Cattleman's Courtship (2 page)

When she found out he’d broken his leg on one of his jobs, she’d been sick with worry. After his accident, she’d pleaded with Nicholas to quit working the rigs. But he hadn’t even entertained the idea.

When he’d left, when he chose the work over her, she’d left, too.

She’d come back to Cochrane periodically, but only when she was sure he was gone. So they had never talked about her sudden departure and they had never met each other face-to-face. Until now.

Cara wished she could do exactly what Trista, her best friend, had been telling her ever since she left. Get over Nicholas. Start dating.

Trouble was she had no interest in dating. She never did.

As a young girl, she had moved every couple of years as her mother sought the elusive perfect job. Each move meant pulling up roots and breaking ties.

Then, at age fifteen, she moved in with her aunt and uncle in Cochrane. Determined to make something of herself, she applied herself to her studies and worked summers in her uncle’s vet clinic.

It wasn’t until she graduated medical school and started working at her uncle’s clinic full-time that she met Nicholas and truly fell in love for the first time. They dated for six months and got engaged.

And six months later they broke up.

Though she knew she had to get over him, seeing him just now was much, much harder than she’d thought it would be.

One thing was sure, Cara couldn’t stay, knowing she’d run into Nicholas again. Her reaction to him showed her that quite clearly.

She’d stay the weekend and go to church with her aunt and uncle. Then, on Monday she would be on the phone to a travel agent getting her ticket changed as soon as possible.

Nicholas adjusted his corduroy blazer, straightened the tie cinching his collared shirt and shook his head at his own preening.

Since when,
he asked himself,
did you get so fussed about what you look like when you go to church?

Since he knew Cara Morrison would be attending. He had almost changed his mind about going this morning. He had to trim horses’ hooves and check fences, but at the same time he felt a strong need to be at church. When he worked rigs, he couldn’t attend at all, so he when he had a chance to worship with fellow believers, he took it.

He turned away from his image in the bathroom mirror and jogged down the stairs.

His father was rooting through the refrigerator and looked up when Nicholas entered the kitchen.

Dale Chapman still wore his cowboy hat and boots. Obviously he’d been out checking the cows already this morning. He was a tall, imposing man and, in his youth, had been trim and fit.

Now his stomach protruded over the large belt buckle, a remnant from his rodeo years that had taken his time and money and given him a bum back and a permanent limp. Though his hair was gray, he still wore it long in the back.

“What’s with all this vaccine?” He pulled out one of the boxes Nicholas had purchased yesterday.

“I thought we were out.”

Dale Chapman narrowed his eyes. “I heard that Morrison girl was back in town,” his father said as Nicholas pulled out the coffeepot and found it empty. “Is that the reason you went to the vet clinic?”

Nicholas shrugged off the question, wishing away a sudden flush of self-consciousness as he pulled the boiling kettle off the stove and rinsed off an apple. Not the most balanced breakfast, but it would hold him until lunchtime.

“If you think she’s going to change her mind you’re crazy,” Dale said as he pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge. “She’s not a rancher’s wife and we all know how that can turn out.”

Nicholas ignored his father’s little speech as he poured grounds and hot water into the coffee press. Though it had been fifteen years since Nicholas’s parents’ divorce, Dale had mistrusted women ever since. And that mistrust had seeped into his opinion of Cara. His father’s negative opinion of Cara Morrison hadn’t been encouraging when he and Cara were dating. When Cara broke off the engagement, Dale had tried and failed not to say “I told you so” in many ways, shapes and forms.

“How long she around for this time?” his father asked, pouring the milk over his bowl of cereal.

“Didn’t ask.”

“Probably not long, if she’s like her mom.”

Nicholas didn’t say anything, knowing nothing was required, and he wasn’t going to get pulled into a conversation about Cara.

He thought he had been prepared to see her again. Thought he had successfully pushed her out of his mind. Hadn’t he even dated a number of other girls since Cara?

Again he could feel the miscreant beat of his heart when he turned and saw her standing behind the counter, almost exactly as she had the first time they had met.

That first time he’d seen her, he’d been enchanted with her wide eyes, an unusual shade of brown. The delicate line of her face. She had looked so fragile.

But he knew better.

He’d seen her covered in mud, rain streaming down her face as she helped deliver a foal. He’d seen her do a Cesarean section on a cow in the freezing cold, seen her manhandle calves that weighed almost as much as she did.

Cara Morrison was anything but fragile.

And he was anything but over her.

She left without a word,
he told himself.
She couldn’t even break up with you to your face. She ran away instead of facing things. Get over it.

So why was he going to church knowing he might see her?

Because he wasn’t the kind of person to run away or get chased away.

He had some pride, he thought, finishing off his apple and tossing the core into the garbage can. And because, when he stayed away from church, his heart felt empty and his soul unnourished.

He said a quick goodbye to his father and ran to his truck. He was already running late.

Half an hour later a helpful usher escorted him to one of the few empty spots in the building. He sat down, got settled in and ended up looking directly at the back of Cara Morrison’s head.

He glanced around, looking for another place to sit, but then the minister came to the front of the church and encouraged everyone to rise and greet their neighbors.

Nicholas immediately turned to the person beside him and then Cara’s aunt called out his name. Was it his imagination or did Cara jump?

“So good to see you here,” Lori Morrison said, catching his hand. He shook Lori’s hand and then, with a sense of inevitability, turned to Cara.

She gave him a tight smile but didn’t offer to shake his hand. “Good morning, Nicholas. Good to see you again.”

“Is it?”

The words came out before he could stop them.

Well, that was brilliant.
Nicholas watched Cara slowly turn away from him. Why couldn’t he be as cool as she was? Why couldn’t he return her greeting instead of running the risk of antagonizing her again?

Now she stood with her back to him, the overhead lights catching glints of gold in her hair. Three years ago she wore it short, like a cap. Now it brushed her shoulders, inviting touch.

He crossed his arms, angry at his reaction to her. It had been three years. It was done.

And Nicholas spent the rest of the church service alternately trying to listen to the minister and trying to ignore Cara Morrison.

He was successful at neither.

Finally the minister spoke the benediction. The congregation rose for the final song. As soon as the last note rang out and the minister stood at the back of the church, Nicholas made his escape.

He had his hand on the bar that opened the exterior door when he heard someone call his name. His first impulse was to ignore whoever called him. And he would have managed if the helpful person behind him hadn’t tapped him on the shoulder.

“I believe Mrs. Hughes wants to talk to you,” his neighbor said. He pointed out a thin, short woman waving at him from the top of the stairs in the foyer.

Nicholas smiled his acknowledgment and, with a sigh of resignation, walked back through the crowd of people in the foyer.

He had his hand on the handrail of the steps and looked up in time to see Cara walking down the stairs past Mrs. Hughes.

Cara caught his eye, then glanced quickly away.

Right behind her stood her uncle, Alan Morrison.

Nicholas caught Alan’s piercing gaze. It was as if he were making sure Nicholas didn’t “hurt” his precious niece yet again. Nicholas wanted to reassure him that as far as Cara was concerned, he had gotten the memo long ago.

Then Nicholas saw a look of puzzlement cross Alan’s face as his step faltered. Alan’s hand clutched the handrail on his right side as he cried out.

Then, as if in slow motion, he crumpled and folded in on himself.

Cara turned. Her aunt Lori screamed.

And as Nicholas watched in horror, Alan Morrison fell heavily down the rest of the stairs.

Nicholas was the first one at his side. Cara right behind him. “Call an ambulance,” Nicholas shouted to the people who now milled around.

“Stretch him out.” Cara pulled on Alan’s arm, falling to her knees beside him. “Straighten him out and open his coat.”

Alan’s face held a sickly gray tinge, his eyes like dark bruises, unfocused, staring straight up.

As Nicholas unbuttoned Alan’s suit jacket, Cara placed her hand above his mouth then, bending over, put her mouth on his and gave him two quick breaths.

Her fingers swept his neck, pressing against it.

“No pulse,” she murmured.

“I’ll do the CPR, you take care of the breathing.”

Nicholas counted to himself, one and two, pressing down on each count. Cara was bent over her uncle’s head, breathing for him.

Nicholas felt vaguely aware of the people around them as they worked, Lori crying, someone else telling people to move away.

But for Nicholas, the only thing that existed was the two of them fighting to save Cara’s beloved uncle’s life. A tiny cosmos among the shifting crowd around them.

He didn’t know how long they worked. It seemed like a few moments, a brief snatch of time.

Yet by the time someone called out to make room for the paramedics, the tension knotted his shoulders and the hard floor dug into his knees.

“I’ll take over, sir.” Hands pulled him back as others caught the rhythm he had maintained.

Nicholas caught the glimpse of two uniformed men and he got slowly to his feet, his legs tingling as the blood rushed back to them.

Another paramedic strapped an oxygen mask on Alan’s head, manually pumping life-giving oxygen into him.

Cara sat back, her hands hanging slack by her side, her eyes huge in her pale face.

Nicholas tried to work his way around Alan to be at her side. But someone else took her by the shoulders. Lifted her up. Held her as she visibly trembled.

That’s my job, my place,
he thought, feeling ineffective and surprisingly possessive as someone else stroked her hair in comfort.

In a flurry of activity the paramedics had Alan on a stretcher and then wheeled him out the doors.

Beyond the double doors Nicholas saw the whirling lights atop the ambulance and the enormity of what had just happened struck him.

“Cara. Go with him,” Nicholas heard Lori Morrison called out.

Cara glanced around, looking confused at the sound of her aunt’s voice.

“Please,” Lori pleaded. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

Nicholas found her this time and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the ambulance. “I’ll take care of your aunt. You go. Be with your uncle.”

He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before she whirled away, running after the paramedics.

Nicholas hurried to Lori’s side. “I’ll take you to the hospital,” he said, slipping his arm over her shoulder. “We’ll meet Cara there.”

Lori only nodded, clutching his arm.

He steered Lori to his truck and soon they were speeding down the highway to the hospital, trying in vain to keep up with the ambulance. Lori sat curled against the passenger’s-side window, a silent figure clutching her coat, her face strobed by the flashing red lights of the ambulance they were following.

While he drove, Nicholas sent up a quick prayer for Alan Morrison and for Cara, praying the ambulance would get to the hospital on time.

Chapter Two

S
orrow, huge as a stone, lodged in Cara’s chest. Tears threatened, but she held them back. In the past couple of hours her aunt had cried enough for both of them.

She wanted time to rewind. She wanted to go back when her uncle was still walking around. Still talking and telling his terrible jokes.

Not strapped to a gurney with a paramedic working on him while they raced to the hospital in the swaying ambulance.

Myocardial infarction, the paramedics had said. Heart attack.

How could a heart suddenly decide to stop working? What triggered it?