Her Cowboy's Twin Blessings

by Patricia Johns

  “You have it?” he asked, his voice low, and she nodded, so he pulled back, cool air rushing between them once more. “You’re a natural.”

  “It’s just a helpless little thing,” she said.

  Yeah, so were the twins back at the house, but she hadn’t engaged with them like this—wholeheartedly. So what was the difference?

  Milk foamed around the calf’s slurping mouth and dripped down its chin.

  “You’re a person who connects with animals, then,” he said.

  “I always liked the idea of a hobby farm,” she said, then glanced up at him. “And I know that probably sets your teeth on edge.”

  “A little,” he admitted with a low laugh.

  “You never did tell me what drew you to this line of work,” she said, her eyes still on the calf as it drank.

  “I was born on a ranch,” he said. “I told you that. It’s what I know.”

  “Yeah, but plenty of country boys end up in the city,” she replied.

  He shrugged. “True. I like it. I—” He wasn’t sure he had the words to encompass what this meant to him. “It’s like it’s a part of me somehow. When I’m on horseback, everything else melts away. When I look at a herd, I’m already looking ahead to what needs to be done...but it’s more than that. Cattle are soothing. A contented herd almost purrs.”

  Ember looked up at him; her expression softened. “And you’re willing to work another man’s land in order to work with cattle.”

  “Yeah. It’s not the ideal, but it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

  “But you won’t work for me.”

  Casey let out a soft laugh. “No, ma’am, I won’t.”

  She smiled ruefully and dropped her gaze. “I like that.”

  “That I won’t work for you?” He squinted at her, unsure what to make of this woman.

  “No, you refusing to work for me is annoying, because from what I can see, you’re the best around, and I want only the best,” she said. “What I like is being called ‘ma’am.’”

  “Aren’t you called ‘doc’ or anything like that at work?” he asked.

  “It’s not the same. ‘Ma’am’ is...based on nothing more than the fact that I’m a woman. It’s...reassuring somehow.”

  “That’s country manners,” he replied.

  She was silent, and Casey sank down onto an upturned bucket, watching as the calf drained the last of the bottle. Ember pulled the nipple out of the calf’s grasping mouth and passed it over.

  “So what drew you to therapy?” he said.

  “I want to help.” She smoothed a hand over the calf’s head. “After I started college I hit a really rough patch. I struggled with depression, and there was a therapist on campus who helped me through it all. I was young, scared, heartbroken, orphaned—”

  “You had a father.”

  “I had a biological father, not someone who loved me like Mom had.” She sighed. “That therapist helped me to straighten it all out in my head. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have partied away my life, looking for comfort in all the wrong places. She’s the one who said that faith could be a safe place in all the chaos. I was angry at God then, and she wasn’t even a Christian therapist. She was just helping me find my footing again, and that one comment she made stuck. I thought about it for a week or two, and one morning after a rough night, her words seemed exceptionally true and I gave my heart to God. I needed to look higher. And when I’d made it out of my own hard time, I realized that I wanted to do that for other people—help them sort it all out and point them higher.”

  “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” Casey said quietly. “You were pretty young.”

  “It was tough.” She nodded. “But even in our darkest valleys, there is always something brighter on the other side. There has to be, or how could we keep going? Sometimes we just need another person to believe it strongly enough that we get swept along in their current of hope.”

  “I guess that’s faith,” he said. “Believing, even though you’ve been marching around those walls for what feels like an eternity.”

  “I guess it is.” She smiled up at him.

  Except Ember was the one standing between him and the one thing he’d been longing for—independence, land of his own. She was vulnerable, beautiful, and just as impossible to get around as stone walls. So why did he have to feel this strange mixture of emotions when he was with her? She was part of the problem, and he just couldn’t bring himself to resent her anymore. But whether or not he found her likable, beautiful, or endearing in her own way, she’d walk away with this ranch if she wanted it.

  Absolutely nothing was simple with Ember.

  Chapter Seven

  Ember watched as Casey settled the calf with another, older calf. They curled up together in new hay, and Ember and Casey leaned against the rails, watching them.

  “The calf will be okay, won’t it?” Ember asked.

  “The odds are pretty good,” Casey said. “A belly full of milk goes a long way.”

  Funny how attached she could get to a calf in half an hour. But the little guy looked like he was settling in comfortably in the hay, and she sent up a silent prayer that he’d thrive. It was tough to picture now. He was so small, so dependent.

  “That’s a hard start without a mother,” she said softly.

  “Oh, but he’ll get attention and bottles full of milk. He’ll be part of a rotation of bottle-fed calves, so the ranch hands will come by every three hours and give him another bottle.”

  “So this is normal,” she said.

  “There’s always three or four,” Casey said. “Come on. Let’s let the little guy rest.”

  Ember could see why Casey loved this ranch so much. It was more than charm—the place had a certain amount of heart to it. And almost all of the employees would be left out of work if she fulfilled her goal. Change was never easy, and a success for one person always meant a failure for another...or for a whole ranch worth of employees.

  That thought sat heavily for Ember as they drove back to Casey’s house.

  Casey breathed out a long sigh as he turned off the truck, and Ember eyed him curiously. He looked worn and tired, but also eager.

  “You’ve missed the babies,” she said.

  He looked over at her, lifted his cowboy hat off his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I have.”

  The first few fat drops of rain started to fall, each landing on the windshield with a wet thwack, and Ember leaned forward to look up at the darkening sky.

  “Let’s get in there before the skies open, shall we?” he said.

  “Excellent idea,” she said with a grin, and they both pushed open their doors.

  Ember had farther to run than Casey did, but he waited for her at his side of the truck all the same. Then they made the dash to the side door together. He turned the knob and pushed open the door, then stood back to let her inside first. As they erupted into the house, there was a flash of lightning and the rain came down in sheets. Ember shivered and Casey swung the door shut. It was then that she heard the reedy wails of the babies crying in unison.

  “You’re back,” Bert said, coming into the kitchen with a baby propped up on his shoulder and a panicked look on his lined face. “They just won’t settle. Fiona’s finishing with Wyatt’s diaper, but—”

  Fiona came into the kitchen at that moment with Wyatt in her arms. She looked less stressed than her husband, and she held Wyatt close to her cheek, making a soft shushing sound next to him that didn’t seem to be helping much.

  “Thanks for standing in,” Casey said, taking Will from Bert’s arms. “Much appreciated.”

  Fiona handed Wyatt over, and the older couple exchanged a look of unmitigated relief.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Fiona said, putting a gentle hand on Ember’s shoul
der as she tried to adjust the wailing infant in her arms. “Too much change, I’ll warrant. They just need a quiet evening with their daddy. Will’s settling down already.”

  And he was—Will’s cries had softened into whimpers, and as Casey swung the baby from side to side, he seemed to be winding down.

  “Thanks again,” Casey said, raising his voice over the babies’ sobs. “I’m really grateful. My aunt will be here to help me out middle of next week, so there’s an end in sight for you, Bert.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Bert said with a grin, but all the same, he put a hand in the center of his wife’s back and propelled her forward toward the door. “Have a good night!”

  When Bert and Fiona had left, Ember’s attention turned to Wyatt, who hadn’t calmed in the least. She jiggled him a couple of times, her heart filling with misgiving.

  “Just rock him,” Casey said, still swinging Will in that perfect arc that seemed to be working for the baby.

  “I am!” Ember jiggled Wyatt a few more times, then started rocking back and forth, but Wyatt wasn’t having it. And in Ember’s heart, she saw a tiny calf without a mother, and deeper down still was the memory of her own tiny boy, who had cried for her so desperately as another woman took him away.

  “He wants his mother—that isn’t me,” she said, tears rising up inside her.

  “Well, she isn’t an option anymore, is she?” Casey shot back. “She’s gone! So hold that baby like you mean it!”

  Like she meant it. She’d been holding herself back whenever she cradled either baby, and she’d been repressing all those instincts on purpose. She was trying to stem the flood of memories of her own little boy, and the harder she tried, the more vivid he was in her heart.

  She’d never named him, had let his adoptive parents have the honor—that was supposed to make it easier. But it hadn’t been. They hadn’t let her be a part of anything...and nothing of her had gone with her son to his new home, nothing but his memories that would have faded eventually, and she couldn’t help but wonder if a part deep inside him would always be wounded, wondering why his mother gave him up.

  “No—” Ember’s voice quivered as she swallowed back tears, but Casey’s arms were already full, and she couldn’t very well just put the sobbing baby into the cradle and walk away. He needed something, and she wasn’t enough—she couldn’t be.

  “Ember, just—” Casey didn’t seem to know how to put it into words, but Ember knew what it would take to quiet this child—it would take her whole heart.

  So with a prayer for strength, she pulled Wyatt in close against her cheek, shut her eyes to the room around her and rocked him with all the love that had lain dormant in her heart this long, long decade. She rocked him the way she wished she could have rocked her own little boy, soothing away that anguished cry as they’d walked away with him, cooing over him as if his tiny heart hadn’t been searching for her in that swarm of strangers.

  And as she rocked, her tears flowed, and Wyatt calmed. He sucked in a few ragged breaths and snuggled against her neck. That was what he’d needed—for her to open herself up, empty herself out.

  “Ember...” Casey’s voice was low and concerned, and she opened her eyes to find him looking into her face. He put a hand out and touched her cheek with the back of one finger.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “It’s—” She swallowed.

  “What happened to you?” he whispered. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because I’m no fool.”

  Ember had never told anyone else about her son. He’d been her heavy secret, and giving him up had been her deepest heartbreak. She looked down at Wyatt, now stilled and soothed in her arms, then back up at Casey.

  Casey stepped closer still and pushed her hair away from her face, wiping a tear off her cheekbone with the same movement. Those brown eyes were locked on hers, and she sucked in a ragged breath.

  “I gave up a baby boy for adoption ten years ago, and it’s been hard lately,” she admitted softly. It sounded so...ordinary.

  “So that’s why...” He nodded a couple of times. Had she not hidden her pain as successfully as she thought?

  “I’ve been trying to just set it aside for now,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek with the flat of her palm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this. I knew I’d have to deal with it, but I wanted to wait until I was back home...and alone. So... I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be melting down here—”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” He met her gaze tenderly. “You weren’t ready to give him up, were you?”

  “I thought I was.” Ember licked her lips and looked down at little Wyatt, whose eyes had drooped shut. Her arms were already feeling tired, and she looked up at Casey helplessly.

  “Come sit,” Casey said. “It’ll be more comfortable.”

  Ember followed Casey into the living room, and they sank down into the couch, side by side. For a few beats they sat in silence, and then Casey said quietly, “So what happened?”

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice raspy with unshed tears.

  “I’m asking as...I don’t know...a friend, I guess.”

  Ember looked over at Casey. “Are we friends?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I thought so. We seem to have gotten there. Aren’t we?”

  Ember let the silence flood around her once more, and then she sucked in a breath. “I was seventeen when my mother died, and I didn’t know how to grieve. I was stuck being angry—I was so mad that my mother had left me. It wasn’t her fault, but I wasn’t ready to be alone without her yet...” Ember’s voice trembled, and she cleared her throat. “So instead of feeling it all, I tried to avoid it. While she was dying, I was busy running away from the heartbreak I wasn’t ready to feel. I drank. I partied. I did whatever I could to numb the pain.”

  “And your father?” Casey prodded.

  “My father told me that if I didn’t straighten up, I’d never see another penny from him. I don’t blame him. Obviously, I was out of control.” Ember looked down at the slumbering infant, then smoothed his hair with her fingertips. “So I pulled myself together enough to pass muster. I started college—my dad got me in—and I tried to just put my childhood behind me. I actually thought that was possible! I’d kept up the partying through college, and one night... I don’t remember anything from the party, but the next morning, I was pretty sure I did some things I regretted. Some friends took pictures, and I was—” She looked away, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, even after all this time. “It doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say, while I didn’t know it yet, I’d conceived my son that night, and I had no idea who the father was.”

  “How old were you?” he asked.

  “Twenty. Old enough to know better,” she said, then shook her head. “I had to tell my father, and he suggested—rather strongly—that I give the baby up for adoption. I wasn’t in any position to be properly supporting myself, much less a child. I had no idea who the father was, so I couldn’t get help from him. I was halfway through my first degree, and if I dropped out and raised my son on my own, I’d have been a poor, single mom, just like my own mother. I was scared, and I thought that if I could only adjust my thinking and know from the start that I was giving the baby up that I wouldn’t get attached.”

  “Did it work?” he asked softly.

  “I thought so... I chose a family—a pastor and his wife who were childless. They were good people, and I knew they’d love him and raise him well. I brought them to doctor’s appointments and everything. But then when he was born, it felt different,” she said, and the memory of her little boy’s squished, red face rose up in her heart so forcefully that it felt like a punch. “His adoptive mother talked to me a little bit. She said they were naming him Steven. And that name was all wrong...my son wasn’t a Steven, but I had no say. I forced myself to sign the papers, thinking that if I just got over that hurd
le, it wouldn’t hurt so badly. Then she asked if she could hold him. I tried to be strong, and I said yes. She took him from my arms.” Ember closed her eyes, steadying her breath. “I’ll never forget that cry... I dream of it still.”

  She felt Casey’s hand close over hers, and she looked over at him to find his eyes misted with tears.

  “They say it’ll get easier, that you’ll go on with your life... Except it never got easier for me.” She shook her head faintly. “I can’t call my son Steven. I still haven’t named him in my heart, but he isn’t a Steven. He’s just my baby.”

  And her heart still ached for him, as did her arms. She wouldn’t be complete again, because he was gone, and he was no longer a baby, either. Time had swept him away along with that adoptive family.

  “I’m sorry,” Casey murmured, and his grip on her hand tightened. It was comforting, and she was glad for the contact with him, rooting her to the present.

  “Ironically, I thought that searching out this property would be a welcome distraction from it all.” She smiled bitterly.

  “And then I show up with the twins.” He finished the thought for her.

  She didn’t answer, but they both knew it was true.

  “Is this why you don’t want children of your own?” Casey asked.

  “Yes.” She nodded, her control coming back. “I didn’t pray about it—not in earnest—before I gave my son up. I just closed my eyes and did it, and it was the biggest mistake of my life, trying to please a father who never really loved me in order to keep my financial security. Adoption is a good and right decision for so many people, but not for me.”

  Ember looked over at the big cowboy, wondering what he was thinking just then, but he didn’t say anything, just looked down at her hand in his.

  “You don’t stop being a mother when you give your child away,” she went on, hoping he could understand this. “I carry him in my heart, and I pray for him constantly. He has a birth mother who loves him more than he’ll ever know.”