Cattleman's Courtship

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “My dad got rid of the cows as soon as he took over the place. Gramps wasn’t fond of them so he didn’t mind. He just kept them around for Gramma’s sake. They never made a lot of money off them. The real money was in cattle and grain.” Nicholas brushed some dust off the large silver bowl mounted on the top, a melancholy smile edging his mouth.

  “And working away from the farm.” No sooner had the words slipped out than Cara felt like smacking her head.

  Silence followed that and Cara turned her attention back to the job at hand.

  “So, let’s decide what we should put where,” she said. “I think we could put the cream separator by the guestbook table and put one of the plants with the trailing lobelia in it.”

  “And the guest table is where?”

  Cara walked to the spot and pushed a stake in the ground. Nicholas followed her with the ATV and hauled the separator out of the trailer.

  “Next, we’ll figure out where we want the chairs.”

  As they paced out, measured and planned, Cara drew on the plans she had made for herself for the brief months of her own engagement to Nicholas. She’d had it all figured out, down to where the guest book would be located and what would have been on the table.

  “This is going to look great,” Nicholas said, looking over the site.

  “So, do you think this will all go through?” Cara asked, thinking of the dozens of cupcakes in her aunt’s freezer. She and Trista had decided to forego the usual wedding cake in favor of a cupcake tower.

  “Yeah. I really do.”

  Cara shot a quick glance Nicholas’s way. “Did you talk to Lorne?”

  “He’s committed to her and to being married. I think his biggest problem was the hoopla surrounding the ceremony.”

  “I can understand. Most guys don’t like the planning part of weddings.” But even as she spoke, she thought of all the work Nicholas put into this wedding.

  He was meticulous and he liked things done in good order. All part of his personality and one of the reasons they were standing here, planning someone else’s wedding instead of their own.

  Don’t go there. Don’t go there.

  “I feel like things are coming together,” Nicholas said, slapping some dirt off his blue jeans. “You seem to know exactly what to do. How did you figure it all out?”

  Cara crossed her arms, looking around the still-empty yard, seeing it the way she thought it would look when done. “I used the plans that I…” Her voice faded on the summer breeze sifting over the yard.

  “Plans that you what?”

  She shrugged, then figured she had nothing to lose and completed her sentence. “That I had in mind for…our wedding.”

  He said nothing and she didn’t want to turn to catch his reaction. She didn’t want to know if she’d see relief on his face because her plans never reached fruition, or if she’d see regret.

  “You had actually thought that far?”

  “I’m like any other girl,” she said. “I made plans. Even bought a bride magazine.”

  She thought of their shared kiss, the tender way he had held her, and her heart stuttered with a mixture of pain and regret.

  Should she have been so insistent on his staying away from his work?

  But now, after seeing his love for the ranch, she knew more than before he would never put her needs before the needs of the place he loved so much.

  “At least I get to use the plans now,” she added, fighting a surprising wave of sorrow.

  Then, to her alarm, Nicholas came to stand in front of her and his finger brushed over the bruise on her forehead.

  “So how come we didn’t get that far?” he asked.

  Cara avoided his gaze. If she let herself be beguiled by him, she’d be headed down the same path they’d traveled before and she knew where that would end.

  Nicholas would leave and she’d be left behind, afraid and worried.

  So her and Nicholas? Dead end.

  “Maybe we weren’t meant for each other,” she said quietly. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

  “That sounds pretty vague to me.”

  Cara shrugged. “Maybe vague is all I can give you.” She looked up at him then, taking a chance. “Maybe I can’t give you any more than I already did.”

  Nicholas’s eyes narrowed and for a moment she wondered if he understood what she meant.

  “You left,” he said, anger threading his voice. “You took off without a word. I thought you didn’t want to marry me and now I find out that you were actually planning our wedding. So it wasn’t the proposal that sent you scurrying away?”

  Cara hardly dared to look at him, not sure he would fully understand. “No. It was your work. Your job.”

  Nicholas took a step back. “So we’re still back to that?” He released a humorless laugh. “Back to where we started.”

  “Has anything changed?” she asked.

  He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but she didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear him say that yes, he had to leave. Had to go work his dangerous job. Had to put the ranch ahead of everything.

  “We’re done here,” Cara said, managing to keep her voice even as it broke into the awkward stillness drifting into the moment. Then she walked toward her car, quickening her pace, before the tears filling her eyes spilled over.

  Chapter Ten

  Cara sat cross-legged on her bed, her Bible on her lap flipping idly through it when she heard a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” she said, looking up from the book, but not closing it.

  Her uncle put his head in the room. “I saw your light on. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay.” She gestured for him to come in and he grabbed a chair, carried it closer to her bed, sat down and caught his breath.

  Though he claimed he was fine, Cara knew his recuperation was taking longer than he hoped.

  “How was your day?” he asked. “I was napping when you got home.”

  “Long. Tiring.” But not all her exhaustion had to do with the vet work she’d done today. Her thoughts kept edging toward the conversation she and Nicholas had on Tuesday then circling back to their time together on Sunday.

  And every time she had to pull herself back to the present she felt a tiny sense of loss.

  “I spent an hour with Anderson’s mare, trying to deliver a colt and then spent three hours taking it apart so I could remove the body.”

  Uncle Alan patted her hand in commiseration. “Surgeries like that are disheartening and draining.”

  “I know. And that poor mare kept straining.” Cara’s voice hitched.

  “At least you won’t be doing that kind of work in Montreal,” Uncle Alan said.

  “No. Thank goodness.” Cara tried to inject a note of relief into her voice, but in the past two weeks she’d been happier at work than she’d been for the past three years.

  As to what that meant for her job in Montreal, she didn’t want to ponder.

  Uncle Alan gestured toward the Bible. “So, you started reading that again?”

  Cara looked down at the book. She’d received it from her aunt and uncle when she graduated from high school. She had read it once in a while, but after her mother’s death, she had put it away.

  “I don’t know if it’s going to help,” Cara said. “But lately I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark—”

  “God’s word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” Uncle Alan gave her a gentle smile.

  Cara laughed lightly. “Yeah, I guess I’m at the right place then.”

  “What are you reading?”

  “I’m just paging through the Psalms.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  Cara sighed as she flipped another page. “Guidance. Direction.” She ran her fingers lightly down the page, as if trying to read the words by touch. “I don’t know what’s happening in my life anymore, Uncle. I have a plan. I know what I’m going to do and yet feel…lost.”

  “Ar
e you talking about your job in Montreal?”

  “It’s a good job, Uncle Alan. I’ll be able to do some traveling and I’ll be challenged and there’s lots of room for upward movement and career advancement.” But as she spoke, Cara kept her eyes on her finger, still tracking the words in the Bible.

  “Who are you trying harder to convince? Me or you?” he asked gently, leaning back in the chair, the light from her bedside lamp reflecting off his glasses.

  Cara looked down at the Bible again and laughed. “I don’t know. Both, I guess.”

  Uncle Alan heaved a heavy sigh. “If that Gordon fellow wasn’t coming I could give you a job here—”

  “I don’t want a job here.” The words fairly jumped out of her.

  “I hope you’re not so adamant because you don’t want to be working with me,” Uncle Alan joked.

  Cara riffled the pages of the Bible with one hand. “Of course not. I would love to work with you.”

  “So then I’m guessing it’s Nicholas?”

  Cara’s head snapped up. Uncle Alan just smiled.

  “I may be recuperating from a heart attack, but I’m not blind.”

  “I never thought you were.”

  “Be careful, Cara,” he said. “Don’t let your past feelings interfere with your current situation.”

  “You don’t have to worry,” Cara said. “In fact as soon as his cattle are tested he’s going on an overseas job. Something more hazardous than the offshore rig work he used to do.” Her voice caught, the emotions and weariness of the day piling on her.

  Thankfully Uncle Alan didn’t say anything. Instead he reached over and gently took the Bible from her unresisting hands. He angled his head up so he could see through his bifocals, licked his finger and turned a few pages. Then he handed the Bible back to her.

  “Read this, my dear. Psalm 139 up to verse 18. Maybe that will give you some comfort.”

  Then he got up, bent over, brushed a kiss over her forehead and left.

  As the door closed softly behind him, Cara swiped at the lone tear trickling down her cheek, blinked the rest away and bent her head to read.

  “‘Oh, Lord, You have searched me and know me,’” she read, “‘You know when I sit and when I rise. You perceive my thoughts from afar.’” Cara stopped there, her mind ticking back to a time when the idea that God knew her thoughts frightened her. But now she realized God now knew her confusion.

  And her fear.

  She read on, letting the poetry of the words nourish and seep into her soul. “‘Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to the heavens, You are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there.’”

  As she read, it was as if hands rested on her shoulders, easing away the burden she carried there.

  She thought of what her aunt had told her, that though she may have turned her back on God, He was still there. Still waiting.

  Deep in her soul, she had always known that.

  She closed her eyes and let her heart rest in God and rest in His love.

  He had to be enough for her, she realized. She had to stop thinking she needed more than God.

  “Forgive me, Lord,” she prayed. “Help me not to look for happiness and contentment in other people. Help me to only seek You first.”

  And as she slowly released her hold on her plans, her life and her heart, peace stole over her soul.

  And slowly she struggled to release her changing feelings for Nicholas into God’s care.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Are you okay?” Trista held Cara by the shoulders, staring into her eyes.

  Cara adjusted the gauzy veil on Trista’s head and frowned. “Why are you asking me? Today is your wedding day.” She knelt and fluffed up the dress, then stood back to admire her friend.

  Yesterday she was wound as tight as a spring, making last-minute calls to the caterer, to Nicholas, to the minister, to Trista’s mother. But it had all come together.

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay with Nicholas and all that.”

  “I’m fine. Trust me.” And just to underline her statement, Cara gave Trista a bright smile, then turned her to face the mirror. “Look at you. You look amazing.”

  Trista’s dress had been worn by her mother and altered to fit. The style was simple, but elegant. Raw silk gathered on one hip by a jeweled pin, then fell in rich folds to the ground. The veil belonged to Lorne’s mother. Just a simple layer of gauzy netting and a bandeau covered with a remnant of silk taken from the dress.

  Cara looked over her friend’s shoulder, smiling at their shared reflections—her blond hair pinned back on one side with a single flower, Trista’s dark hair surrounded by a halo of white. “Remember the wedding plans we used to make?” she whispered, as if unwilling to disturb the moment.

  “You always knew what you wanted,” Trista said, reaching behind her for Cara’s hand. “And just for the record, this should be you. You used to talk about getting married way more than me.”

  “Just silly games,” Cara said, trying to laugh off Trista’s concern. Dredging up old dreams and memories was a waste of time.

  Trista turned and caught Cara’s other hand and gave them a light shake. “I still believe you’ll find the right person.”

  “Thanks, Trista, but today is your day.” Cara adjusted her veil and wiped away a tiny smudge of mascara from her cheek. “And we’re not discussing me anymore.” She glanced around the room, looking for the bouquet.

  Nicholas had cleared out an empty bedroom in the house for Trista’s changing room and had found an old, full-length mirror. Probably an antique, Cara guessed, from the aged wood framing it. Probably something his great-grandmother used.

  Trista ran her hands down the raw silk of her dress and placed her hands on her stomach. “I don’t show yet, do I?”

  “Not even the tiniest bump,” Cara assured her.

  She saw a florist’s box on the bed and pulled out Trista’s bouquet. The bouquet was made of white roses offset with blue larkspur tied loosely together with a blue silk ribbon matching the blue silk of Cara’s dress.

  Cara’s bouquet was made up of blue larkspur.

  “So you go first, then I do, right?” Trista asked with a grin. “Or is it the other way around?”

  “I told you we should have had a rehearsal,” Cara said.

  “As Lorne says, what’s to rehearse?” Trista leaned closer to the mirror and dabbed at her lipstick. “We’re not doing anything fancy.” She pressed her lips together then inhaled deeply, her hand on her stomach. “Besides, there wasn’t time. Lorne and I barely got the marriage classes done.”

  “We’ve been to enough weddings. I’m sure we’ll figure it all out,” Cara said, though on one level, she was thankful there hadn’t been a rehearsal either. Spending an evening with Nicholas at a wedding that had been based on her own plans was difficult enough. Two nights in a row would have been too hard.

  You’ve got a good job waiting, she told herself. A job that will finance any trip you might want to make. You can go anywhere and do anything.

  Just like your mother did.

  Cara ignored the mocking voice. Her mother had a child that she left behind. She was leaving no one behind in her life. No hearts would break when she left.

  And after she had spoken to Uncle Alan, she had drawn more comfort from the Bible. God would not leave her and that was enough for her.

  A knock at the door made them both jump. “Are we ready?” As Trista’s father came into the room, he shook his head in amazement.

  “My girl,” he said, with a little hitch in his voice. “You look so beautiful.” He embraced his daughter and Cara caught the shimmer of tears in his eyes.

  And she would be lying if she said she wasn’t jealous.

  She had Uncle Alan and Aunt Lori and she was thankful she still had both in her life. If she were to get married, he would walk her down the aisle.

  Yet that didn’t seem the same as a father who h
ad raised her from a baby, who had seen every step of her growth, looking with pride at his own daughter on this momentous day.

  Trista’s father pulled back and he shook his head, as if he couldn’t understand himself how the years had slipped away.

  “I’m so proud of you, honey,” he said. “You’ve been a blessing to me and your mother and I pray you will be a blessing to Lorne.”

  Trista wiped a tear and Cara’s throat thickened at this precious moment.

  “Now, let’s deliver you to your future husband.” Mr. Elderveld patted her shoulder and gave her a bright smile.

  They walked together down the stairs of Nicholas’s house and down the wooden steps of the verandah. Ahead of them were the rows of chairs where the guests were seated. Pots of flowers lined the grass aisle, flanked the arbor and hung from the crosspiece, creating a riot of color set against the stunning backdrop of the mountains.

  Soft music played from hidden speakers, adding to the ambience.

  And as they approached, Cara saw the minister, Lorne and Nicholas already waiting.

  Nicholas wore a navy suit and light blue shirt, echoing the colors of Cara’s simple sheath. The shirt softened the gray of his eyes, giving them an azure tint.

  The music changed, and Cara walked slowly toward the front. She kept her focus on the people in the audience smiling their encouragement as she walked past. She saw her aunt and uncle sitting in the crowd. Uncle Alan gave her a wink and Aunt Lori just smiled.

  Then as she came to the front and took her place on the other side of the pastor, she chanced another quick look toward Nicholas.

  This time he looked directly at her. His features were impassive and she wondered what was going on behind those gray-blue eyes of his that shifted away so quickly.

  And why did that bother her?

  Then the music changed to a solemn wedding march, everyone stood and Cara forced her gaze back to Trista. The gauzy veil framed her serene face and her white dress shimmered in the afternoon sun.