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Courting The Cowboy
Courting The Cowboy
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Courting The Cowboy

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Then she returned to the front porch, where Suzy was crying now. Ella gently took the cat from the little girl. Thankfully Oreo curled up against her, settling down right away...

“Why don’t we all go back to the house,” she said, glancing over at Boyce who was still struggling to catch his breath.

“Good idea,” Boyce said as he stood. “Where’s your dog?”

“Inside. In his kennel. I don’t trust him around the kitten.”

Boyce shook his head. “Figures that their grandparents would give them a cat without talking about it to Cord first.”

Ella decided it might be best not to pursue that conversation. Suzy was still upset and she needed a distraction.

“So how old is Oreo?” she asked Suzy as they walked toward the trees.

“Three months old,” Suzy answered. Then she reached up and grabbed Ella’s hand.

Ella’s initial reaction was to pull back, but at the same time, the feel of the sticky fingers woven through hers awoke the same maternal feelings she had when she had first found out she was pregnant.

She choked down an unwelcome thrum of sorrow.

“And does she like it at your place?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation going and keep her mind from going back down the rabbit hole of regret and guilt.

“We just got him yesterday,” Paul chimed in, dancing ahead of them down the path that wound through the trees. It was cooler there amongst the spruce and aspen, and the whisper of the wind in the leaves was soothing. “Grammy and Grampie gave him to us for our birthdays.”

Ella could hear Boyce muttering as he followed them, and in spite of her own tangled emotions, she had to suppress a smile. Clearly he did not approve of the cat. As they walked through the trees she felt a quiet peace enfold her. To one side she saw a bench tucked into an opening, a small respite. She wondered who had put it there and why.

They broke out into the open and Ella gasped. This was the first time she’d seen the house and the ranch. It was hidden from sight by the trees between the two yards.

The house was built in a Craftsman style with heavy trim and large frames around the windows. The porch wrapped around the house, and Ella guessed that the other side had a perfect view of the valley and the mountains beyond.

A ways below the house she could see a barn tucked into a hillside and a herd of cows gathered in an enclosure beyond that. On the other side was a smaller pasture, with a half a dozen horses grazing there.

Past the sweep of a green valley dotted with trees rose the mountains, gray and craggy and iced with snow, a stark white against the blue sky. Though she had a view of the mountains from her cottage as well, it was only a partial glimpse, not this sweeping vista.

“Pretty, aint it?” Boyce said, still winded as he came to stand beside her.

“‘Pretty’ hardly describes it,” Ella said, giving him a cautious smile.

“My wife and I built it many years ago and Lisa renovated it. Lots of memories here.”

He moved ahead of them and Ella followed, still holding Suzy’s hand as they made their way down the slope toward the house.

The front door was flanked with flower pots that had remnants of dead plants hanging limply from them. The flower beds flanking the front door looked equally unkempt. It was sad to see such a beautiful place look so uncared for.

Boyce held the door open for her and she stepped inside, still carrying the cat.

“Just bring that creature indoors,” Boyce said, making a space in the entryway strewn with boots and shoes. “She has a crate there you can put him.”

Ella hesitated but Suzy tugged on her hand. “I can show you the toys we got for him,” she said.

Ella reluctantly followed, and when she stepped into the kitchen she felt a clench of dismay.

Dirty dishes and pots covered the quartz counter. The countertop stove was encrusted with old food and the sink held a few more pots. Pictures hanging askew decorated the stainless steel refrigerator, as did innumerable finger marks and streaks of unknown substances.

Beyond the kitchen a basket piled with laundry sat on the dining room table, clothes spilling out of it onto papers and books and more dishes.

A metal kennel sat in one corner and Suzy crouched down to open it up. “We can put Oreo in here,” she said, reaching up.

Ella relinquished the cat, trying not to grimace at the sight of the family room through the arched doorway of the kitchen. A television was blaring, and toys of all shapes and sizes joined more clothes scattered on the beautiful fawn-colored leather couch and love seat. A fireplace filled one wall, flanked by white columns and bridged by a mantel that held dusty candles next to a framed picture of Cord’s family.

She could see the picture was a candid shot taken outside. Sunlight illuminated Cord and his wife and children.

Cord stood with Suzy perched on his hip, her arms wrapped around his shoulder as she leaned away from him, the sun making a halo of her hair. Cord had his other arm draped around the shoulders of a stunningly beautiful woman with wavy blond hair. She in turn had her hand on Paul’s shoulder, her other hand cupped around her pregnant stomach.

Ella turned away, frustrated that the picture so easily evoked memories. Was she ever going to put the past behind her?

Boyce looked at her and frowned as if he had caught the vulnerability she had allowed to slip over her features.

She lifted her chin, determined to push past it all. “I should get back to the cabin and back to work.”

“Thanks for helping with the kids,” Boyce said, his smile warm and friendly. “And I should get going on supper.” Then he groaned, pressing his hand against his lower back.

He looked tired. It couldn’t be easy for him supervising young, active kids at his age. And having to cook.

“What are you making?”

“Cord pulled out some meat. Not sure what to do with it, though.” He shifted some of the dishes around to make room on the stove, looking confused.

“I’m hungry, Grandpa,” Paul complained.

“Me too,” Suzy added. “My tummy hurts.”

“I know. Just give me a bit and I’ll have supper ready.” Boyce gave her an apologetic look. As Ella watched his aimless meanderings, she felt a flash of sympathy for the man.

“Maybe I can help?” she said.

Boyce shot her a look full of gratitude. “That would be great. This is what Cord took out.” Boyce held up a plate of chicken breasts.

“Chicken is pretty basic. Let’s see what we can do with it.”

She dug through the disorganized shelves of the pantry, and found a bottle of Indian butter chicken sauce. Boyce found an onion, and a few minutes later she was sautéing chicken and cooking rice.

As she worked, Ella was surprised at how easy it seemed, working in this kitchen. With these kids.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt an easing of the band of anguish that usually gripped her heart.

* * *

Cord strode up the front walk of the house and grinned when he smelled the mouthwatering scent of butter sauce wafting out the open kitchen windows.

Before he’d left for his meeting, Boyce had offered to make supper, telling him that he could easily manage. Cord was puzzled by the offer but thankful. He hated cooking and the kids usually hated what he made.

He had hoped his father was able to work around the mess in the kitchen. A combination of his own attempts to cook and Boyce’s easygoing work ethic.

He knew he needed to clean up and it had been bugging him for the past few days, but he was swamped with work. Thankfully his in-laws were willing to take Oliver for most of the spring break and with Boyce around, he and the kids could just about manage until school started again. It was strictly stopgap, but it gave him some breathing space until he found a nanny.

He stepped inside the entrance, frustrated at the kids’ shoes tossed around on the floor and the dirt caked on the tiles beneath them. Lisa would have pitched a fit at the sight. Renovating this house had been a project she’d started since they were first married and moved in. He couldn’t begin to count how many hours, days and weeks she spent on Pinterest and consulting with the contractors to bring her vision to life.


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