Cara chanced a look ahead, watching Nicholas from behind.

Nicholas glanced sideways at the fields they rode beside, a smile curving his lips.

This is where he belongs, Cara thought, looking at him now silhouetted against the mountains. This is his natural setting.

Pain twisted Cara’s heart.

And where do you belong?

Before she met Nicholas the question had resonated through her life. Then, for those few, magical months with Nicholas, she’d thought she had found her place.

And now?

She was expending too much energy wondering how to react to Nicholas and thinking of how to behave around him.

They were outside on this beautiful day and were headed out into the hills. Just enjoy it. Don’t put extra burdens on it.

Nicholas sat easily on his horse, his one hand on his thigh, the other loosely holding the reins. He had rolled his shirtsleeves over his forearms, and as he rode, she could see his broad shoulders moving ever so slightly in response to the movement of the horse.

He’s an extremely good-looking man, she thought with a touch of wistfulness.

And he doesn’t belong to you anymore.

CAROLYNE AARSEN

and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in her office with a large west-facing window through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey.

Cattleman’s Courtship
Carolyne Aarsen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.

—Philippians 4:11

I’d like to dedicate this book to Linda Ford, my friend and critique partner. You rejoice with me and weep with me and help me struggle with stories. Especially this one. You are an inspiration and an encouragement. I couldn’t do what I do without your help.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Panic spiraled through Cara Morrison as she stared at the cowboy standing with his back to her looking at a chart on the wall of the vet clinic.

Nicholas Chapman. The man she was once engaged to. The man she thought she didn’t care for anymore.

He wasn’t supposed to be back in Alberta, Canada. He was supposed to be working overseas.

And she wasn’t supposed to be reacting to her exfiancé this way.

The familiar posture, the slant of his head with its broad cowboy hat, the breadth of his shoulders, his one hand slung up in the front pocket of his faded blue jeans all pulled at old memories Cara thought she had pushed aside.

Bill, the other vet, was out on call and her uncle had chosen this exact time to grab a cup of coffee, leaving the clinic in her capable hands, he had said. If she’d known who the next client would be, she wouldn’t have let him leave!

Nicholas turned and Cara’s heart slowed for a few heavy beats, then started up again. She sucked in a quick breath as her mouth went dry.

Gray eyes, the color of a summer storm, met hers in a piercing gaze. Eyes she had once looked into with love and caring. Eyes that once beheld her with warmth instead of the coolness she now observed.

“Hello, Cara. I heard rumors you were back in town.” Nicholas pushed his hat back on his head, his well-modulated voice showing no hint of discomfort.

The last time she saw him, three years ago, he wasn’t as in control. His anger had spilled over into harsh words that cut and hurt. And instead of confronting him, challenging him, she had turned tail and run.

And she and Nicholas hadn’t spoken since then.

Her friend Trista had assured her Nicholas was working overseas on yet another dangerous job.

Yet here he stood making her heart pound and her face flush.

“I’m visiting my aunt and uncle for a week,” she said, forcing a smile to her face, thankful the trembling in her chest didn’t translate to her voice. “After that I’m heading to Europe for a holiday.”

“What made you decide Europe?”

Okay, chitchat. She could do chitchat.

“My mother spent some time in Malta.”

“Ah, yes. In her many travels around the world.”

Cara frowned at the faint tone of derision in his voice. Though Cara had wished and prayed that her mother would stay with her instead of heading off on yet an other mission project, she also had wished she shared her mother’s zeal.

“She did some relief work there,” Cara said. “I’d like to visit the orphanage where she worked.” She folded her arms over her chest. “And how are things with you and your father?”

“We’re busy on the ranch,” he replied. He drew his hands out of the pockets of his denim jeans and placed them on the counter.

The hands of a working man. Cara fleetingly noticed the faint scars on the backs of his hands, a black mark on one fingernail.

His eyes bored into hers and for the smallest moment she felt like taking a step back at the antagonism she saw there. But she clung to the counter, holding her ground.

“And how are you enjoying Vancouver?” he asked.

“I’m moving.”

Nicholas raised one eyebrow. “Where to this time?”

“I’ve got a line on a job in Montreal working for an animal drug company in a lab.”

He gave a short laugh. “Didn’t figure you for a big-city person working in a lab.”

“The job is challenging.” She gave a light shrug, as if brushing away his observations.

At one time this man held her heart in the callused hands resting on the counter between them. At one time all her unspoken dreams and wishes for a family and a place were pinned on this man.

She couldn’t act as if he were simply another customer she had to deal with. “What can I do for you?” she asked, going directly to the point.

He gave her a smile that held no warmth and in spite of her own hurt it still cut.

“I need to vaccinate my calves before I put them out to pasture.”

“How many doses?” she asked, sliding the large glass refrierator door open and pulling out the boxes he asked for.

“Anything else?” she asked, favoring him with a quick glance, hoping she looked far more professional than she felt.

“Yeah. I’m sending a shipment of heifers to the United States. I need to know what I have to do before I send them out.”

“From your purebred herd?”

Nicholas nodded, reaching up to scratch his forehead with one finger. He often did that when he contemplated something, Cara thought. She was far too conscious of his height, of the familiar lines of his face. The way his hair always wanted to fall over his forehead. How his dark eyebrows accented the unusual color of his eyes. How his cheekbones swept down to his firm chin.

He looks tired.

The thought slipped past her defenses, awakening old feelings she thought she had dealt with.

She crossed her arms as if defending herself against his heartrending appeal.

“I’m sending out my first shipment of heifers along with a bull,” he continued. “If this guy likes what he sees, I could have a pretty good steady market.”

“You’re ranching full-time now?” Cara fought the strong urge to step back, to give herself more space away from the easy charm that was causing her tension.

Nicholas frowned, shaking his head. “After I ship out the heifers I’m heading overseas again.”

“Overseas?” She’d been told that, but she didn’t know the details. Guess working offshore rigs wasn’t dangerous enough, or didn’t pay enough. “Where will you be?”

“A two-month stint in Kuwait. Dad’s still able to take care of the ranch so I figure I better work while I can.”

“And how’s your leg?” she asked, referring to the accident he suffered working on the rigs just before their big fight. The fight that had shown Cara that Nicholas’s ranch would always come before anything or anyone else in his life. Including her.

Nicholas eyes narrowed. “The leg is fine.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Before they could get into another dead-end discussion, Cara pulled a pad of paper toward her. “As for the heifers you’ll be shipping, you’ll need to call the clinic to book some tests.” Was that her voice? So clipped, so tense? She thought after three years she would be more relaxed, more in control.

She reached for a pen but instead spilled the can’s contents all over the counter with a hollow clatter.

Of course, she thought, grabbing for the assortment of pens. Nicholas Chapman shows up and hands that could stitch up a tear in a kitten’s eyelid without any sign of a tremor suddenly become clumsy and awkward.

“Here, let me help you,” he said as he picked up the can and set it upright.

For the briefest of moments, their hands brushed each other. Cara jerked hers back.

Nicholas dropped the handful of pens into the aluminum can, then stood back.

Cara didn’t look at him as she scribbled some instructions and put them in her uncle’s appointment book. “I made a note for my uncle to call you, in case you or your dad forget.” She didn’t want to sound so aloof, but how else could she get through this moment?

He took the paper she handed him and, after glancing down briefly at it, folded it up and slipped it into his pocket. “I could have phoned for the information, but I was in town anyway.”

He’d heard she was around, but was seeing her as much of a shock to him as to her?

He grabbed the bag, murmured his thanks then left. As the door swung shut behind him, relief sluiced through her.

Their first meeting had finally happened.

Maybe now she could finally get past her old feelings for him and get on with her life.

It had been three years since they’d broken up over the very thing they had talked about. His blind devotion to his ranch and his commitment to working dangerous jobs that paid high wages, which all went back into the ranch.

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

Sorrow, 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?

Images flickered in her mind. Uncle Alan wheezing as he lifted a box. His unusually high color.

Though he only worked part-time, Cara knew he’d been under stress lately. The practice had been extremely busy and Alan was called more often to fill in on the large animal work.

Another vet, Gordon Moen, was supposed to be coming to help out, but he wasn’t arriving for another three weeks.

Too late for Uncle Alan.

The stone in her chest shifted and tears thickened her throat.

Please, Lord, don’t take him away, too. You already took my mother, please spare him.

Then she caught herself.

God didn’t listen to prayers. How many had she sent up that her mother would come back to her? Would put her first in her life?

Had God listened when she prayed Nicholas would choose her over his work? Over his ranch?

Sometimes she wondered if her prayers were selfish but she believed that anyone else in her situation would want the same things.

Aunt Lori always said God moved in mysterious ways. Well, they were certainly mysterious to Cara.

Cara rolled her head slightly, chancing a glance at Nicholas, who had stayed at the hospital. The knot of his tie hung below his open collar of his rumpled shirt. She couldn’t help the hitch of her heart at the sight. He looked more approachable now, more like the Nicholas she remembered.

As if aware of her scrutiny, he glanced back at her. And again their gazes locked. He turned, then walked back in her direction.

He sat down in the empty chair beside her, resting his elbows on his knees. “How are you doing?” he asked.

The deep timbre of his voice still made her heart sing. Still swept away her natural reserve. “I’m okay.”

He frowned, as if dissatisfied with her reply. But what else could she say? She felt especially vulnerable now and if she said more, she would start to cry. She needed to maintain what dignity she could. To stay aloof, calm and in control. Nothing had changed in his life and she couldn’t put herself through that emotional wringer once again.

“Here’s your aunt,” he said suddenly, standing up.

Lori came down the hallway, clutching her purse. A nurse walked beside her, talking in hushed tones. As they came closer Cara heard snatches of the conversation.

“He’ll be on the monitors for a couple of days…good pulse…healthy man…”

Lori nodded, but Cara knew she wasn’t absorbing all this.

Cara got up, stretching her tired muscles, and walked toward her aunt.

“How is he?” Cara knew the question was superfluous but she had to ask.

Her aunt shook her head. “He looks so awful with all those things attached to him. You don’t want to see him yet.”

But Cara needed to.

“Can I see him?” she asked the nurse.

“You two can go in,” she said, gesturing at Cara. “But only for a minute. We don’t want to tire him out.”

Cara realized with a start the nurse had included Nicholas in the invitation. She was about to correct her, when the nurse turned, her shoes squeaking on the gleaming floor.

Cara didn’t look back to see if Nicholas was coming, but as she followed the nurse, she could hear his measured tread behind her, slightly slower than her own.

The nurse motioned for Cara to come closer. “You’ve got two minutes then I’ll come and get you.” She smiled at Cara, then past her. Cara could tell the moment her smile connected with Nicholas. Nicholas always had that effect on women, she thought dully, pushing aside the curtain around her uncle’s bed, her fingers trembling.

She stepped forward, then faltered at the sight before her.

Her uncle, a large, strapping man, lay on the bed, his face still obscured by the oxygen mask. Lines attached to circular pads snaked out to a machine beeping out a regular rhythm. His arms lay beside him, bare except for a blood-pressure cuff attached to a machine. Two IVs ran out from his arms.

He looked like death.

Cara pressed her hand to her mouth, stopping the faint cry of dismay, her knees buckling beneath her.

She would have fallen, but strong arms caught her from behind. Held her. Just for those few seconds she allowed herself to drift back against Nicholas’s comforting strength, thankful for his presence.

We fit so well, Cara thought, letting him support her. His touch, his smell, his warmth felt so familiar it created an ache deep in her chest.

Then, when she caught her balance, his hands settled on her waist, held a moment and then gently pushed her away.

As if he couldn’t stand to touch her any longer than he had to.

Cara disguised the pain of his withdrawal by catching her uncle’s hand and clinging it to it, hoping he would pull through this emergency. She stayed by her uncle’s side a moment longer, then turned away.

“I want to…go,” she said to Nicholas.

Aunt Lori sat huddled in the hard plastic chair, her hands kneading each other. As Cara came closer, her head came up. “Is he awake?”

Cara shook her head.

“He was working too hard.” Aunt Lori’s voice sounded so small. So wounded.

Cara stifled the flicker of guilt her aunt’s innocent comment created. It wasn’t her fault, she reminded herself. Even if she had stayed behind and worked at the clinic as her uncle had always envisioned, Alan Morrison wouldn’t have slowed down. Wouldn’t have done less.

“We should go home,” Cara said quietly, taking her aunt’s arm in hers.

“Can we come back tonight?”

“Of course we can. But you should go home and rest a bit before we do.” Cara took her aunt’s arm and, as they walked to the door, she leaned heavily on Cara.

The air outside smelled fresh, new. The sun shone down with a benevolent spring warmth, but Cara couldn’t stop the chill shivering down her spine.

“My truck is parked over here,” Nicholas said, stepping ahead of them to lead the way.

Cara acknowledged his comment with a nod, following him more slowly, holding her aunt up.

“I made him eat his vegetables. I made him go for walks,” Aunt Lori was saying, clutching Cara’s arm. “I took good care of him.”

“Of course you did,” Cara said quietly, her attention split between her aunt and the man who strode in front of them, leading the way to his truck.

He opened the door and Cara felt a jolt of dismay. The cab had one bench seat with a fold-down console.

Which meant her aunt would be sitting by the window and Cara…right beside Nicholas.

She helped her aunt into the truck, then had to walk around to Nicholas’s side. She began to get in slowly, wishing she’d worn sensible shoes instead of high heels made for walking short distances, not climbing running boards of pickup trucks.

She faltered as she stepped up and Nicholas caught her, his hand on her elbow. She tried to ignore his touch, wished her heart didn’t jump at his nearness.

She settled on the seat beside her aunt, and buckled herself in. Nicholas got in and Cara’s senses heightened.

“Can you move over a bit,” Aunt Lori asked, nudging Cara with her elbow. “I’m feeling claustrophobic.”

Cara shifted as much as she dared. No matter what, though, she sat too close to Nicholas. She felt the warmth of his arm through the sleeve of her sweater and the scent of his cologne drew up older memories of other trips in this truck. Trips when she didn’t mind sitting as close to him as she was now and often tried to sit even closer.

That’s over, she thought.

The trip back to Cochrane was quiet, broken only by the hum of the tires on the pavement, the intermittent noise of the fan sending cooling air over the truck’s occupants.

Cara kept her arms folded over her purse and tried, like her aunt did, to keep her eyes fixed on the road rolling past them.

But she couldn’t stop her awareness of the man sitting next to her. Each curve in the road and each bump in the pavement brought the two of them in contact with each other.

“Did the doctor say anything about what might have caused the heart attack?” Nicholas asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Cara took a breath. “He told me his cholesterol levels were high. And I imagine the stress of working added to that.”

“Did they say how serious it was?”

“A heart attack is serious. Period,” Aunt Lori said in a tone that didn’t encourage any further discussion.

A heavy silence followed her remark. Cara wished she dared turn the radio on. She wished she and her aunt could share casual conversation. Anything to keep the picture of her uncle falling down the stairs out of her mind.

Anything to keep her from being so sensitive to Nicholas’s presence.

The beginnings of a headache pinched her temples and by the time Nicholas pulled up to her aunt and uncle’s home, Cara felt as if a vise gripped her forehead.

“Thanks for all your help,” Aunt Lori said, leaning past Cara to give Nicholas a worn smile. Then she stepped out of the truck and headed up the walk to the house.

Cara slid over and from a safer distance risked a glance at Nicholas.

He draped one arm over the steering wheel, his other across the back of the seat, bringing his fingertips inches from her shoulder.

“Thanks for the ride and for all the help,” Cara said. “I’m so glad you could bring Aunt Lori to the hospital.”

Nicholas didn’t say anything, his eyes holding hers. “Are you going to be okay?” His voice sounded cool, as if he were asking a mere acquaintance.

Cara shrugged and slipped her purse over her arm. “I don’t know.”

Quiet fell again and Cara didn’t have anything more to say. So she slipped out of the truck and trudged up the sidewalk. But before she got to the house, she couldn’t help a glance back over her shoulder.

Nicholas was watching her.

She took a chance and lifted her hand in a small wave, but he started his truck and drove away.

Cara closed her hand and pressed it to her chest, surprised at the jab of hurt.

Did you expect him to come running down the walk, pull you into his arms and beg you to give him another chance? Did you really think he was pining for you the whole time you were gone? He doesn’t care for you anymore.

The words mocked her, and she turned and entered the house.

Aunt Lori sat in her usual chair in the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her midsection.

“Do you want some tea?” Cara asked, walking to the stove.

Aunt Lori nodded.

While she waited for the water to boil, Cara joined her aunt, glancing around the papers piled up on the room table, the dishes scattered over the kitchen counter. She wished she had the energy to start cleaning.

Her aunt was not a housekeeper. She always joked that she preferred to paint walls than wash them and she could always afford to get someone to do it for her.

Though she missed her aunt and uncle, she didn’t miss the mess either in the house or her uncle’s vet clinic. Her mother wasn’t much different and at times Cara wondered if she really was a Morrison. Every time she came back to her aunt and uncle’s place, either from university or visiting, she spent the first few days tidying up.

However, in spite of the chaos, Uncle Alan and Aunt Lori’s home had been Cara’s most stable home since Audra Morrison dropped Cara off at their place. Audra had assumed Cara was old enough to be without her while she followed her conscience and went to work overseas.

Cara still remembered the grim voice of her uncle, trying to plead with his sister, Cara’s mother, to think of Cara.

Her mother’s reply still rang in her ears. Cara had been raised with more privileges than any of the children she left to help. She didn’t need her mother as much as these destitute young orphans in Nicaragua.

And then she left. Aunt Lori had come upstairs and had sat beside Cara, not saying anything, simply holding her close, letting Cara’s tears drench the front of her shirt.

When Cara turned fifteen, everything changed. Cara’s mother was killed flying into the Congo to help yet another group of lost and broken children.

And Cara was alone.

Uncle Alan and Aunt Lori were named her guardians. They paid for all her expenses, bought her a car. Put her through vet school and Uncle Alan offered her a job when she was done.

She started working for her uncle, met Nicholas and she thought her life had finally come to the place she’d been yearning for since she was a young girl.

A home of her own. A family of her own.

And now, her uncle lay in a hospital bed and Nicholas was more removed from her than ever.

“How are you doing?” Cara asked, reaching over and covering her aunt’s icy hands with hers.

“I’m tired. And I’m scared.” Lori looked up at Cara. “Will you pray with me?”

Cara was taken momentarily aback. How could her aunt talk about praying after what had just happened? What good would it do?

But she wasn’t about to take what little comfort her aunt might derive from praying, away from her.

“Sure. I’ll pray with you.” Cara folded her hands over her aunt’s and bowed her head.

Cara waited, then realized her aunt wanted her to do the praying.

Her heart fluttered in panic. What was she going to say? But her aunt squeezed her hands, signaling her need. So Cara cleared her throat and began.

“Dear Lord, Thank You for today…” She paused there, wondering what she could be thankful about when her uncle was so ill, but she carried on. “Thank You that we could worship with Your people in Your house…” She stopped, hearing the inauthentic words in her own ears.

She glanced up in time to see Aunt Lori looking over at her.

“Why did you stop, honey?”

Cara sighed. “I sound like Uncle Alan.”

“That’s not so bad.”

Cara gave her aunt a quick smile. “No, but…”

“It’s not from your heart.” Aunt Lori finished the sentence for her.

“I don’t know if I can pray from my heart.” Cara tightened her grip on her aunt’s hands.

“Why not?” Aunt Lori asked, her smile sad.

Cara sighed lightly, knowing she would have to be honest with her aunt. “I don’t think I’ve been able to pray since…”

“Audra died?” Aunt Lori stroked Cara’s hand with her thumbs.

“Mom’s death was the beginning.”

“And what was the end?”

Cara looked down, working her lower lip between her teeth. “I know it sounds kind of funny now, maybe even a bit childish, but after Nicholas and I broke up, I haven’t been able to pray at all.”

“That was a hard time for you.”

“Not as hard as what you’re dealing with right now.”

“I still have Alan’s love. I know how much you cared for Nicholas and I know the hurt he caused in your life made you pull further away from God.” Aunt Lori looked down at their joined hands, her thumbs still making their soothing circles around Cara’s hand. “I hoped that by asking you to pray, you would be able to at least let God’s love fill you. Let God break down that barrier you’ve put up between you and Him.”

“He was the one that put it up, Aunt Lori,” Cara whispered.

“God always seeks us,” Aunt Lori assured her. “He never puts up walls. We do.”

Cara’s soul twisted and turned. “Love hurts, Aunt Lori. It hurts so much.”

Her aunt reached out and cupped her cheek. “That’s the risk of loving, my dear girl.”

Cara let the words settle into the wrenching of her soul. She knew her aunt was right, but she also knew, for now, she wasn’t going to take the chance of getting hurt again.

“I’ll pray this time,” Aunt Lori said, taking her hands.

Cara bowed her head and let her aunt’s prayer wash over her. And for the merest moment, she felt a nudging against the walls she’d put around her heart.

She knew that everything had changed. In the space of a heartbeat, or lack of a heartbeat, her world had spun around.

There was no way she could wander around the streets of Malta knowing that her uncle, the man she thought of as her father, lay helpless and recuperating from a devastating heart attack.

She had no choice now. She would have to cancel her trip and stay in Cochrane to support her aunt. Even if it meant running the risk of seeing Nicholas and having her pain reinforced.

Though she had told her aunt she didn’t pray much, she caught herself praying that when the time came she would be able to leave with her heart still intact.

Nicholas pulled up to his father’s house and slammed on the brakes, dust swirling around his truck as it fishtailed then abruptly stopped. He was being juvenile and he knew it, but his anger and frustration had to find some release and driving like a fool seemed to be a part of it.

The events of the past days piled on top of each other. Seeing Cara in at the clinic then at church. She acted so cool. So remote. He knew part of it was his own fault. He’d put up his own barriers to her and he had to remind himself to keep them up.

Like you did at the hospital?

For a brief moment, when he and Cara had seen Alan lying on the hospital bed, he thought she might lean on him just a little longer. But she had quickly pulled herself together and had drawn away from his support.

Nicholas grabbed his tie from the seat and opened the door, his anger fading with each moment. He felt tired and drained. In the next couple of weeks he had to get fences fixed, his haying done and then get ready for another work trip overseas.

He sighed as he trudged up the sidewalk. He wished he could stay home, at the ranch. Wished he could get on his horse and head up into the mountains.

He thought of Cara’s past insistence that he not go back to work and the ensuing fight that had sent her running.

Nicholas stopped at the top step of the house and, turning, let his eyes drift over the valley spread out before him. Cattle dotted the pasture near the house. His purebred herd painstakingly built up by him and his father over the past five years, had been paid for by the work he did.

Beyond this valley lay the land he and his father had purchased back from the bank after his parents’ divorce. When missed payments led to foreclosure, this, too, had been paid for by his work. He had focused his entire life on this ranch.

He could have found work closer by, but it wouldn’t have paid near what he got from working on oil rigs. The time off gave him the opportunity to work on the ranch. His father managed the ranch while he was gone. All in all it had been a convenient and lucrative arrangement.

One he wasn’t in a position to change. Not yet. He knew the beating his father’s pride took when they had to go, hat in hand, to the bank to refinance the ranch.

Four generations of Chapmans had farmed and ranched on this land and each generation had added to it and expanded it. Nicholas was the fifth generation and he wasn’t going to let the ranch fail on his watch.

He knew Cara couldn’t understand. She didn’t have his attachment to the land. She didn’t have the continuity of family and community he had. Though he didn’t appreciate his father’s puzzling antagonism toward Cara, he did agree with his father on one point.

Cara’s lack of strong roots made it hard for her to appreciate the generations of sweat equity poured into this place. She couldn’t understand how important the ranch was to him and to his father.

And if she didn’t get that, then she wasn’t the girl for him. Logically he knew his father was right about that.

He just had to convince his heart.

Chapter Three

“And how’s Uncle Alan?” Cara asked, shifting the phone to her other hand as she slowed the car down and steered it around a tight corner. Dust from the gravel road swirled in a cloud behind her.

“He’s still very tired, but the doctor says that’s normal. How are you doing?” Aunt Lori sounded tired herself.

“I’m fine, busy, but things are going well. I’m on my way to take a stick out of a horse.”

“Just another day at a vet practice,” Aunt Lori said with a small laugh. “Uncle Alan asked me to remind Anita to do the supply checklist. He thinks the clinic is running low on—”

“You tell Uncle Alan that Anita has already sent in the order and everything at the clinic is under control.” Except my driving, she thought, as she pushed the accelerator down, hoping she didn’t hit any washboard on her way to the next call.

The Chapman ranch.

The last call she’d been on had taken too long. A sheep with trouble delivering her lambs. Something that could have been dealt with at the clinic, but the woman insisted someone come out to look at it.

Then the woman wanted her to check out her dog’s gums and have a quick peek at her laying hens.

Which now meant that in spite of keeping the accelerator floored, she was twenty minutes late.

So it was easier to blame her heavily beating heart on the pressure of trying to get there on time rather than possibly seeing Nicholas again.

“But I gotta run, Aunty Lori. Tell Uncle Alan I’ll be there tonight and give him a full report of how things are going.”

“You take care, sweetie. I’ll have supper ready for you when you come.”

Cara smiled as she hung up. She was busy, sure, but there was a lot to be said for coming home after a hard day of work to supper cooking on the stove.

While she enjoyed cooking, many of her suppers back in Vancouver consisted of pizza or a bowl of cereal in front of the television. Hardly nutritious, despite the claims of the cereal manufacturers.

Cara made the last turn up the winding road leading to the ranch. She allowed herself a quick look at the mountains edging the fields. The bright spring sun turned the snowcapped peaks a brilliant white, creating a sharp relief against the achingly blue sky.

When she and Nicholas were dating, they seldom came to the ranch. This suited Cara just fine. Every time she came, she received the silent treatment from Nicholas’s father, which created a heavy discomfort. Cara knew Nicholas’s father didn’t approve of her, though she was never exactly sure why.

All she knew was each time she saw Dale he glowered at her from beneath his heavy brows and said nothing at all.

So she and Nicholas usually went to a movie, hung out at her uncle and aunt’s place or visited Nicholas’s best friend, Lorne Hughes.

So when she found out the call came from Dale Chapman, she was already dreading the visit, and running late just made it more so.

She parked the car and, as she got out, she heard Dale Chapman speaking.

She grabbed a container with the supplies she thought she might need out of the trunk of the car. Then she headed around the barn to the corrals, following the sound of Mr. Chapman’s voice.

Dale was holding the horse’s head, talking in an unfamiliar gentle tone to his horse.

Just for a moment, Cara was caught unawares. She wasn’t used to gentleness from Dale Chapman in any form.

“Good morning, Dale. Sorry I’m late.”

His cowboy hat was pulled low on his head, shading his eyes, but when he looked up, his mouth was set in grim lines.

“I came as soon as I could.” Cara knew trying to explain to him about unexpected problems with her previous case would be a waste of time.

Cara set the kit down in what seemed to be a safe place, pulled a pair of latex gloves out and slipped them on as she walked toward the horse.

She knew from the phone call that Dale had found the animal with a stick puncturing the muscles of its leg.

From here she could see the stick hanging down between his front legs. As she bent over to get a closer took, her mind skimmed frantically through her anatomy lessons, trying to picture which muscles the stick could have injured.

Watching the horse to gauge its reaction, she gently touched the leg, feeling for heat. But he didn’t flinch.

“When did this happen?” she asked, looking up at the wound. There was surprising little blood on the stick, which led her to believe it hadn’t punctured anything important.

“Um…let’s see…” Mr. Chapman hesitated, as if trying to recall.

“I found Duke this morning in the new pasture.”

The deep voice behind her reverberated across her senses. Then Nicholas crouched down beside her and she caught the scent of hay and the faintest hint of soap and aftershave.

She couldn’t stop the quick flashback to another time when she was at the ranch watching her uncle working on one of Nicholas’s horses. It was the first time she met him.

Too easily she recalled how attracted she had been to him. And when his eyes had turned to her, the feeling of instant connection that had arced between them.

And right behind that came the memory of his father, watching her with narrowed eyes. He still doesn’t like me, she thought, wondering once again why.

Not that it mattered. The way Nicholas acted around her, she was sure the son and the father were finally on the same page as far as she was concerned.

“Doesn’t look like any veins or arteries are punctured,” Cara said, gently touching the stick. It slid easily to one side. “I’m guessing it slipped between the muscles.”

Duke shifted its weight and the stick moved down a bit more.

“I’m going to pull this out, but before I do, I want to give him some anesthetic,” she said as she went back to the kit for a syringe and a needle. “How heavy is he—”

But as she spoke, Nicholas gave her the weight, as if anticipating her question.

She drew up the proper amount, pleased to see her hand held steady. She walked back to the horse but Nicholas was already at the Duke’s head, brushing the mane back, giving her a clear injection site.

“Are you sure you should just pull that stick out?” Dale’s voice said over her shoulder as she found a site for the needle. “That’s going to be trouble.”

“The stick is simply inserted between the sheaths housing the muscles. Pulling it out won’t cause more problems.”

Cara stifled her momentary irritation with Nicholas’s father. When she had worked for her uncle before, she had occasionally encountered resistance from people who didn’t think a woman was tough enough to do large animal work. And while she knew Nicholas’s father never particularly cared for her, she didn’t think that dislike extended to her capabilities as a vet.

“You haven’t been doing this for a while—”

“I’ll need a hose and water,” Cara said, interrupting his questions. “Could you get that for me, Mr. Chapman?” she asked, gently tugging on the stick.

He grumbled a moment, but left, giving Cara room to breathe.

Cara eased the stick the rest of the way out, moving more carefully than she might have with someone else’s horse, with someone else watching. She wanted to prove herself to Nicholas—to prove she wasn’t as incompetent as his father seemed to think.

The stick came out without too much exertion. It was exactly as she had said. It had slipped between the muscles and had only punctured the skin.

“Thankfully the injury isn’t major.” She stood up and held out the stick to Nicholas, who took it from her without a word.

She got a large jug of distilled water and a bottle with a squirt cap from the car.

She gently ran her hands over the wound, then, pulling apart the skin, began to rinse. “I’m just doing an initial cleaning of the wound to make sure everything is okay,” she said, intent on her task. “The rest will have to be done with a hose.”

“Won’t that be too cold?” Nicholas asked.

Cara shook her head, gently cleaning away a few bits of wood she had rinsed out of the wound. “The cold water will probably be soothing and help reduce any inflammation.”

“And it will heal on its own? You’re not going to stitch it up?”

“The wound needs to stay open so you can irrigate it. It will heal better that way.”

“Really?”

“Are you questioning my abilities, as well?” she asked, as an edge entered her voice.

“What do you mean, ‘as well’?”

Cara didn’t reply. The words had spilled out in a wave of frustration with Mr. Chapman and Nicholas, but mostly with herself for her silly reactions to their presence.

“Duke is my father’s favorite roping horse. You can’t blame him for making sure he’s being taken good care of.” Nicholas frowned at her. He seemed surprised at her anger.

And he should be. When they were dating, she never lost her temper. She had always done what was expected. Been the one to keep the peace.

Fat lot of good that had done her.

Now, despite her simmering anger, she still couldn’t break an age-old habit of avoiding confrontation, so instead of defending herself, she simply turned back to her patient and kept working.

“Here’s the hose,” Dale called out as he climbed over the corral fence. “You sure this will work?”

Cara didn’t bother to answer. She just held her hand out for the end.

“You want to be careful with the angle of the hose. You don’t want to be streaming the water directly upward into the wound,” Cara said, demonstrating what she meant. “And keep the pressure low. You don’t want to reinjure any regenerating tissue.” She handed the hose to Nicholas and straightened, easing the crick out of her back.

“How will I know when I’m done?”

“Just do it for about ten minutes at a time. You’ll also want to rinse the edges of the wound to keep it clean and to prevent it from scabbing over.”

“It will never grow together.” Dale planted his hands on his hips as if challenging her expertise. “You’ll need to stitch it.”

“I’ve seen a horse with a foot-long gash in its side that healed up on its own,” Cara replied. “It’s quite surprising how the body heals.”

Dale didn’t reply, and Cara hoped he was finished questioning and doubting her abilities.

She crouched down again, getting a closer look at what Nicholas was doing.

“Just keep doing that,” she said, gently prying aside the skin. “I don’t see any more bits of wood coming out and the water is running clean, so I think the bleeding has gone down.”

She gently ran her hands down the leg, to double-check. “I’ll give him some long-acting penicillin and I think that’s all I need to do.”

Nicholas stayed where he was and shot her a quick glance. As soon as their eyes met, she felt a lightness in her chest, as if someone had pulled her breath away. Stop. Stop.

She caught her breath again, wishing her heart would settle down. How would she last until Gordon Moen, the new vet, came if a few glances from Nicholas could create such a strong reaction?

Cara closed the kit, latched it shut and drew a long, steadying breath, thankful she was just about done. “Do you have any more questions?”

Nicholas held her gaze and she saw a question in his eyes. It seemed as if he was going to say something, but then he drew back and shook his head. “If I do, I guess I can call the clinic.”

She nodded, then turned away, surprised at a little flare of disappointment.

When she got to her car she was dismayed to see that Mr. Chapman had followed her.

“So you’re all done?” he asked, staring at her from beneath his cowboy hat.

“The wound is clear and it looks like it should heal up just fine. I’ll come by next week to double-check if I have time.” Cara kept her tone professional. Detached, even, as she wondered why Dale had followed her.

Dale folded his arms over his chest, frowning. “He’s over you, you know.” His voice was quiet, determined. “He’s started dating again.”

She shouldn’t care. Of course Nicholas would date again.

“That’s good. I’m glad for him.”

“He’s got his own plans and his own life,” he said, and though his voice had a threatening edge, as he spoke Cara caught the faintest note of desperation. Did he think she had any influence over his son’s behavior?

“Again, I’m glad for him and you,” she said, keeping her tone even. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another call to make.”

She pushed past him, her heart pounding with a variety of emotions. Frustration with Dale and her own silly reaction to Nicholas.

Too emotionally draining, she thought on the car ride back. Give it time.

She walked into the clinic and glanced at the clock as her stomach growled.

“Bill, you here?” she called out.

“He went out on a call,” Anita replied from the front of the office. Anita came to the back of the clinic where Cara was replenishing her kit, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Did he say when he’d be back?”

“He had to go to Hunt’s place and you know what a zoo that is.”

“So, not until this afternoon.” Cara sighed. Her workload just got heavier. She had a few appointments after lunch and she hoped no emergencies cropped up in the meantime.

Anita gave her an apologetic smile. “I know you’ve had a busy morning, but I have to run to the bank and deal with an overdraft. Do you mind covering the office for me?”

Cara didn’t want to, but she didn’t feel like telling Anita that. “If I get an emergency call, I’ll have to call you back,” Cara warned.

“Yeah. Sure.” Anita flashed her a smile. “You’re a dear. I’ll make it up to you sometime.”

Cara nodded as she closed the lid of the kit. Anita already owed her two lunch hours and a coffee break, but Cara wasn’t about to get fussy about collecting on them. Once Gordon arrived, her job here was done.

Then, two minutes after Anita left, the buzzer to the front door sounded.

Of course, Cara thought, wiping her hands.

Trista Elderveld stood in the foyer, holding aloft two plastic bags and a tray of coffee. Her trim suit made her look far more professional and put together than Cara knew she actually was.

“Hey, girlfriend,” Trista said with a quick grin. She put down the bags and coffee and gave her old friend a hug. “I’m so sorry to hear about your uncle.”

Cara returned the hug. “Thanks. It’s so good to see you again.”

Trista pulled back and tugged at Cara’s hair. “I like the longer length. Looks romantic.”

“I was going for ‘easier to care for,’” Cara said, deflecting Trista’s loaded comment. “What do you have there?” she asked, pointing to the bags on the counter.

“Coffee and sub sandwiches from Hortons.”

Cara’s stomach groaned as she caught the scent of roasted onion. “You are a lifesaver. I just got back from a call at the Chapman ranch and thought I’d have to miss lunch.”

“Really?” Trista angled her a curious glance. “And how did that go?”

“I was working. That’s how it went.” Cara’s stomach reminded her again that she hadn’t eaten anything since the banana she gobbled down on the way to work this morning. “Why don’t we go eat in my uncle’s office so the front doesn’t smell like a deli.”

“Did you see Nicholas at all?” Trista asked as she followed Cara down the hall to the back office. “Did you talk to him? I heard he went to the hospital with you and your aunt.”

“We’re not talking about Nicholas, okay?” Cara said, keeping her tone firm, just in case Trista didn’t get the hint.

“Changing subject, now.” Trista unwrapped her sandwich. “How’s your uncle doing?”

“He wants to come home already, but the doctor wants to keep an eye on him for a while.”

“You doing okay, jumping back into large animal after treating puppies and guppies at your last job?” Trista asked with a grin.

“It’s a nice change of pace.” Cara took another bite and sighed with satisfaction. “No one makes sandwiches like Hortons. Thanks a bunch for doing this.”

“I had an ulterior motive,” Trista said, popping a pickle in her mouth. “I had stuff I needed to talk about without your aunt or uncle around. Anita told me Bill is gone on a call, so I hoped I could catch you alone.”

“Sounds mysterious,” Cara said, pushing an errant onion back between the slices of bread.

“Not so mysterious.” Trista finished her sandwich, balled up the paper and tossed it in the garbage can. “I’m getting married.”

Cara almost choked. “What? When?”

“A couple of weeks.”

This time Cara did choke. Trista bounced across the room and pounded her friend on the back.

“What’s the supersonic rush, girlfriend?” Cara gasped as she reached for her water bottle, struggling to gain her breath and composure.

Trista rubbed the side of her nose, then sighed. “Well, I’m pregnant.”

Cara almost coughed again and was about to say something when her friend held up her hand.

“Before you say anything, you need to know that this isn’t, well, wasn’t a regular thing.” Trista was blushing now and Cara was still speechless. “It just, well, happened. And we were talking about getting married anyway, so this just hurries up the process.”

Cara sat back, still trying to absorb this information.

“Lorne’s a great guy,” Trista hastened to explain. “And I know he and Mandy used to be engaged, but that was different because she never liked his parents and they never really liked her.”

Which sounded exactly like Nicholas’s father, Cara thought.

“…but I love him and I know he loves me and I know we’ll be happy together.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Cara said, wishing she could be more enthusiastic about the situation.

Trista’s smile trembled a moment and her eyes shone as if with tears. “I wish you could be happy for me. I know I’m happy in spite of how things are going.”

Cara got up and gave her dear friend a quick hug. “If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

“He will and he does,” Trista said, her eyeblink releasing a tear. She brushed it away and sniffed lightly. “I love him more than I ever thought I could love someone, and he’ll be a great husband and a fantastic dad.”

Trista’s enthusiastic defense of Lorne created a genuine smile in Cara.

Trista sniffed again, then looked back at Cara. “So now, I’m wondering how long you’re sticking around?”

Cara felt a peculiar warmth as she guessed exactly where this was going. “I guess long enough to be at your wedding.”

“So will you stand up for me at my wedding?”

Cara’s smile blossomed. “Of course. For all the times you stood up for me when I first came here and for all the times you stuck up for me, yes, my dear friend, I will stand up for you.”

Trista laughed aloud. “I’m so glad. You know your being here is an answer to prayer.” Then a horrified look crossed her features and she held her hand up. “Not that I think your uncle’s heart attack is an answer to prayer, but the fact that you’re here and that you’re not leaving and—”

“I know what you meant,” Cara said with a melancholy smile as her own emotions veered from a tinge of jealousy to genuine pleasure. “And I would be honored to be your maid of honor.”

Trista heaved a satisfied sigh. “I’m so, so glad. I know the wedding is sudden, but we both knew we wanted to get married and figured why waste time on a long engagement, which worked out perfectly because that means you’re here for the wedding and everything seems to be falling into place…and I should stop talking so much, shouldn’t I?” Trista gave a short laugh as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “You know I always talk a lot when I’m nervous and I was so worried you’d say no.”

“Why would I do that?” Cara tossed her own sandwich wrapper in the garbage can and leaned back to smile at her friend.

Trista flapped her hand, as if erasing the question. “Nothing. I’m just babbling.”

“You can stop babbling. I will do all that is in my power to be the best maid of honor ever.” Cara couldn’t stop a quick glance at the clock, figuring she could spare Trista a few more minutes. After all, they had a wedding to plan.

“What’s the first thing you need my help on?” Cara asked.

“Lorne and I decided we wanted an outdoor wedding so tomorrow night we’re checking a place out.”

“An outdoor wedding.” Cara sighed, thinking of the plans she had made. Her plan had also been an outdoor wedding on a hill overlooking the mountains on Nicholas’s ranch. “Where did you have in mind?”

Trista gave her hair another twirl. When she looked down, avoiding her gaze, a trickle of premonition chilled Cara’s neck.

“Nicholas said we could get married at the ranch.”

Her words fell like stones. No. She couldn’t plan someone else’s wedding at Nicholas’s ranch.

“And one other thing,” Trista said, clearing her throat. “Lorne asked Nicholas to be his best man.”

“Trista—”

“It’s not a setup,” Trista rushed to say. “Honestly. I knew you wouldn’t be crazy about the idea and you can turn me down if you want, but I really, really could use your help and I want you to be my bridesmaid. Though you’ve been gone for a while, you’re still my best friend. You’re the only one who gets me.” Trista sighed. “And you know how my mother is when she’s flustered. She’s no help at all and of all my high-school friends, you’re the only one I stay in touch with and the only one who is organized enough to help me out.”

Cara held Trista’s earnest gaze while her practical nature fought with her rising emotions.

Trista had been her dearest friend since she moved to Cochrane. All through college and vet school, Trista was the only one Cara kept in contact with. It was Trista who had listened to her long-distance sorrow when Cara ran away from Nicholas.

If her friend wanted her help, then Cara knew she had to get past her own problems and do this.

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. We’re meeting at the ranch.” Trista got up then gave Cara a hug. “I know this could be awkward, but hey, it’s been three years and you’re moving on, right? Like you told me?”

Cara nodded her agreement. She had to make Trista believe what she had told her all along. She was well and truly over Nicholas. “Of course I am. It will be fine.”

But as she waved goodbye, her mind slipped back to that moment in the hospital when Nicholas had stood at her side at her uncle’s bed.

Fine was too small a word to cover the emotions that could still grab her. She’d tried praying, but it was as if God, as He had before, didn’t listen. Or didn’t care.

You’ve got to take care of yourself, her mother’s voice mocked her.

And you’ve got to guard your heart, her own memories told her.

Chapter Four

He’s built a new shed, Cara thought as she took inventory of the main yard of Nicholas’s ranch. And torn down the old one. The barn had gotten a new coat of paint and the fences of the corrals were painted, as well.

A faint breeze moved across the yard and Cara wrapped her thin sweater around her. Cara and her aunt had gone to the hospital to visit her uncle and as they were heading home Cara finally mentioned where she was going afterward.

She’d seen the questions in her aunt’s eyes, but thankfully Aunt Lori said nothing.

Cara walked farther, her eyes moving from the buildings to the fields and pastures. The land, broken by swaths of evergreens, flowed upward to the blue-gray mountains with their jagged, snow-covered peaks guarding the ranch.

She’d seen the place for the first time when her uncle came here to do a Cesarean on one of Nicholas’s purebred cows. Cara came to assist and learn what she could. Uncle Alan had walked briskly toward the barn, a man intent on his work while she had dragged her feet, unable to look away from the craggy peaks capped with snow. She had wondered what it would be like to wake up every morning and see this breathtaking view.

And for a little while, when she and Nicholas were serious, the wondering moved toward reality.

Don’t venture down that path, she reminded herself, pulling her thoughts back to the job at hand. Stay in the present, the now.

Cara glanced around the yard, dismayed to see that neither Trista nor Lorne had arrived.

She walked around the wooden fences of the corral, to see better, and as she did, the sound of hoofbeats caught her attention.

She looked toward the noise.

And her heart did a slow somersault.

A horse and rider moved toward her. Nicholas and Two Bits, she thought, recognizing the distinct blaze on the horse’s dun face.

Nicholas had his cowboy hat pulled low over his face and he looked toward the mountains, as well, away from Cara. He held the reins loosely, moving easily with the chestnut horse as it cantered toward the corrals. Dust covered Nicholas’s faded blue jeans. The tan shirt, with its cuffs rolled up, was also caked with dust.

Nicholas pulled Two Bits up short, then, with a subtle movement of his hands on the reins, turned his horse toward her. As horse and rider came near, Cara steeled herself. Seeing Nicholas on the horse, in his natural environment, resurrected a wave of nostalgia and unwelcome emotions.

Two Bits whinnied and Nicholas glanced up, a quick movement of his head.

In that moment, their eyes met and Cara felt it again.

That connection she thought she’d moved beyond. The attraction she thought she’d pushed aside.

“So, what brings you here?” he asked, pulling up beside her, curiosity edging his voice.

Had she come on the wrong day? Had she misunderstood?

“You come to check on Duke?” he continued.

“How is he?” she asked, seizing on the question as she tried to get her bearings.

“Good. I have to give him another shot tomorrow.” Nicholas seemed to sense her puzzlement as he pushed his hat farther back on his head. “But you didn’t come for Duke, did you?”

“Trista said we were meeting here to talk about the wedding. Her and Lorne’s wedding, that is.” Cara clamped her mouth shut, angry at the flush staining her cheeks. She took a step back so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him.

Nicholas frowned, then, in one fluid motion, got off the horse. He pulled his hat off and hit it against his pants, releasing a cloud of dust. “Today?”

“That’s what I understood.” She was fairly sure she hadn’t gotten the date wrong. Yesterday Trista had called her twice to confirm.

He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair, as if trying to dredge up the memory, his gray eyes looking confused. “I forgot completely about it.”

Cara watched his hands, then swallowed, forcing herself not to take another step back.

“They’re not here yet,” Cara said, “but I’m pretty sure we had agreed to meet here today.”

“And you came because you’re the maid of honor,” Nicholas said, a faint edge to his voice.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose up at his tone. “I hope that’s not a problem?”

Nicholas shot her a frown. “Not unless it is for you.”

“It’s been three years. Long enough to have moved on,” she said, thankful she sounded so casual and in control.

“And you have,” Nicholas added.

His comment made it sound as if she had caused the breakup.

However, she could be an adult about this. She was only around for a while and then moving on.

“Looks like you’ve been busy with some improvements to the ranch,” she said, striving for an airy tone of interest.

“Dad and I did a bunch of painting last time I was home. I’ll have enough money to do some reno on the house when I come back from my next job.”

Next job. A good reminder to Cara about where his priorities lay.

The growl of a diesel truck broke into the moment and with relief Cara looked around to see Trista clambering out of Lorne’s truck.

“Hey there,” she called, waving as she strode toward them. “Sorry we’re late. Lorne had a flat tire on the way here.”

Lorne, a tall, slender young man, his baseball cap shoved over dark hair, followed Trista, his walk an easygoing lope.

“Hey, bud,” Lorne said, sending a grin Nicholas’s way. “Were you out riding?”

Then before Nicholas could answer, Trista heaved a heavy sigh. “Don’t tell me. You forgot.”

Nicholas’s gaze flicked from Trista to Lorne then back to Cara. “I did. Sorry.”

“Honestly, Nicholas. How many messages do I have to send you?” Trista complained.

“I was out riding fences the past couple of days.”

“I told your dad.”

“I got the message. I just forgot. Sorry.” Nicholas slapped his hat against his ripped pants, releasing an other cloud of dust. “Give me twenty minutes.”

“I’ll put Two Bits away for you,” Lorne said, taking the reins of the horse from his friend as he shot a frown at his friend. “You might want to rethink the wardrobe.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be right back.”

Trista shook her head as she watched Nicholas jog toward the farmhouse. “That guy never changes. This ranch is his everything, that’s for sure.”

Which was something Cara had to keep in mind if she wanted to keep her heart whole.

Ten minutes later, Two Bits was rolling on his back in the pasture with the other horses, looking ungainly and undignified but happy. Cara laughed at the sight.

Then Nicholas joined them, shoving the tails of his plaid shirt into his blue jeans.

“Sorry. Again,” he said, pushing his still-damp hair away from his face. A fan of pale lines radiated from his eyes, which were steel gray against his already tan skin. The eyes of a man used to squinting at the sun, looking out over pastures and hills.

“I know I forgot all about today, but I thought about the wedding and I had a few places in mind for the ceremony,” Nicholas said, dropping a clean hat on his head. “One of them is close by, the other we’d have to drive to.”

“Let’s check the close one first,” Trista said, pulling out a digital camera.

“It’s over here. Past the barn and down the hill a bit.”

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