Rocky Mountain Proposal Page 6

  “The horse could be gifted, too, I suppose,” Aaron added watching as Joseph pulled his wife close and gave her a hug.

  “You two…” Katie melted into her husband’s embrace. “You knew what I meant.”

  Aaron was glad for Joseph’s happiness, but whenever he witnessed the love that Joseph and Katie shared, his own loss seemed to grow deeper and stronger, like a stubborn root. Time hadn’t healed his heart, as some well-meaning folks had assured him. Instead it had exaggerated the pain. Someday, maybe, he wouldn’t be plagued with the familiar ache, but never again would he love.

  The idea that he’d almost entered into marriage yesterday made his heart lurch to a grinding halt. What had he been thinking?

  He’d been thinking like a Drake, that’s what. Honor your word. Let loyalty and right-living be your trademark.

  He could be grateful until his dying day that Hope had been good enough to turn him down.

  “As I was saying,” Katie began again, “Aaron will be a great help. Besides, Joseph has been talking about hiring on another craftsman.”

  “What kind of gossip am I missing out on?” Zach edged into the gathering, standing beside Aaron as he slid Katie a playful wink.

  “Don’t you go winking at my wife, Zach,” Joseph warned. “Do you hear?”

  Zach waggled his eyebrows at the lot of them. “And how would you know I did that?”

  “Because that’s what you always do. You’re predictable,” Joseph added with a grin.

  Zach grabbed at his chest, winking at Hope this time. “You wound me, Joseph. Predictable? No man wants to be thought of as predictable.”

  “We know you up one side and down another.” Joseph chuckled. “Face it. You’ve got the cowboy nod and wink down to a science. You could teach a class on it at Boulder College—that is, if they offered such things.”

  “Ben, Joseph and Aaron like to accuse Zach of being the quintessential ladies’ man,” Katie explained to Hope.

  She turned an amused expression on Zach and studied him for a long moment. “Perhaps they underestimate you?” The warmth of her smile made the air suddenly seem unbearably stuffy.

  Aaron pulled at his collar. If there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was give his brothers any kind of weakness to pounce on. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, but with the way they’d acted yesterday about Hope, he couldn’t help but feel like they were pushing for something that could never be—plain and simple.

  “Now there’s a smart woman,” Zach proclaimed, sweeping his Stetson from his head and making a grand bow toward Hope. “I’m barely acquainted with her and already she knows me better than my own flesh and blood.”

  On a sigh, Aaron gave his head a shake. “My family. I can always count on them to be welcoming to strangers and to make awkward situations more comfortable.”

  Like now. Hope had to be overwhelmed by everything she’d gone through the past day. He doubted she was eager to have a houseful of strangers, but at least his family would be here to buffer the discomfort of it all.

  And there was Jane to consider. She would need support.

  Besides, he and his brothers had all agreed that, though they’d like to put it off for another time, they’d have to talk with Hope at some point today about the farm—how she wanted to handle things, what kind of chore schedule they could work out and if she was considering hiring a farmhand.

  If that was the case then no man would work for her unless he passed to Aaron’s satisfaction. Even then he would insist on closely guarding the situation. A woman like Hope—beautiful, helpless and alone—would be a dark-minded man’s dream.

  “I just figure if I keep my contact with the ladies to a harmless wink here or there then I don’t have to worry about stuttering.” Zach jammed his hat back on his head. “Although, thank the good Lord I hardly ever have a problem with it anymore.”

  “Are we missing out on something?” Ben asked as he closed the door behind his family, Callie—his wife of six months—and her seven-year-old daughter, Libby.

  “Uncle Aaron, Uncle Aaron,” Libby squealed as she ran the short distance and jumped into Aaron’s arms.

  “Well, hello there, Libby-Loo.” He gave her a big hug.

  Callie had shown up on Ben’s doorstep last October, wanting a job. Little did they all know that this stranger was their brother Max’s widow. Having endured seven years of abuse and suffering at Max’s hands, Callie had sought Ben out, per Max’s dying words, as a last resort. Aaron gulped past the lump that always formed in his throat whenever he thought of the situation and how she’d been reunited with her daughter from Max after he’d used the child, a newborn at the time, to pay off a gambling debt. He’d lied to Callie, saying that the baby had died just as Callie had passed out with the final birthing push. God had definitely redeemed many a heartache.

  “I been missing you, Uncle Aaron.” Libby wrapped him up in a gigantic hug then pulled away and held his face between her small hands. “You have to come see the new kitty Papa brought home. She’s real pretty.”

  “Really? A new kitty, huh?” Aaron glanced at Hope, thinking about the helpless yellow tabby she’d rescued.

  With the way Hope was gazing at him, her eyes full and bright and laden with enchantment, he couldn’t seem to look away. He didn’t know what was getting into him. Why did he seem so captivated by her?

  “Uncle Aaron, did you hear me?” Libby tugged his head to square his focus with hers. “I said the kitty is all white. Like a bride. Like Mama was when she married Papa.”

  “Oh, how sweet,” Hope whispered.

  Libby twisted in Aaron’s arms and peered at Hope, as if noticing her for the first time. She wiggled out of his hold and went to stand in front of Hope. “You’re a pretty lady.”

  Hope’s cheeks suddenly flushed to pink as she clasped her slender hands together in front of her. “Why, thank you. Might I say that you are a very pretty girl.”

  A sweet smile spread across Libby’s face as she studied Hope. “I like your blue dress. Mama said that Miss Jane thought your dress was too blue, but I—”

  “Libby.” Bending over, Callie whispered something in the girl’s ear.

  Libby tucked her chin a notch. “Well, I think it’s very pretty. Don’t you, Uncle Aaron?” She peered up at him.

  Heat instantly infused his cheeks. He brushed his hand down his arm, dusting imaginary dirt from his sleeve.

  “Uncle Aaron, you’re not listening to me.” Libby furrowed her brow in that adorable way of hers that always tugged at Aaron’s heartstrings.

  “Yes, the dress is very nice. Beautiful.” He set his gaze just over Hope’s shoulder, but even out of the corner of his vision he caught a whisper of vulnerability cross her face.

  If he looked at her now, straight in the eyes, she might be able to see the way his soul had suddenly begun churning with the smallest bit of tenderness, attraction.

  He was being ridiculous. He was as silly as a smitten schoolboy. He’d been widowed for ten months. He’d not spared any woman a single glance. So why would he now? Aaron struggled to pull himself together as he wondered what had gotten into him.

  “You have a lovely dress, too. Pink is such a charming color—just like you.” Hope nodded at Libby with a fair amount of fancy manners. Which probably went far with Libby seeing as how the girl considered herself an expert in ladylike ways.

  The way Libby perched her hands in front of her in the same manner as Hope provoked a few light chuckles from his family.

  “My name’s Libby.” She reached out and fingered Hope’s satin dress. “What’s your name?”

  She knelt and met Libby, eye to eye. “Hope.”

  Hope. Aaron’s promise once again unfurled in his mind like a heralding banner. He’d like to just roll it up and stuff it away, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to catch the thing and bring it back.

  “I like your name. Hope. Mama and Papa say that we should always have hope.” She turned and looked at B
en and Callie, her earnest expression melting Aaron’s heart. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes, we do,” Ben answered on a wink. He pulled a hand over his mouth as though to wipe off a grin. “We’re all for hope.”

  Aaron couldn’t feel any more cornered than he did right now. Ben, Zach, Joseph, Callie and Katie.…

  At least sweet little Libby hadn’t forsaken him.

  Just then Libby peered back at Hope, reached out and took her hand. “So I guess that means you’re gonna be part of our family.”

  Hope yawned as long and wide as she imagined humanly possible. Five o’clock in the morning was far earlier than she was accustomed to rising, but after Aaron and his brothers had set her down yesterday and noted the numerous chores and details of the farm for her, she was quite certain that this ghastly hour wouldn’t be nearly early enough.

  All night long she’d been deliberating the enormous changes in her life and had just nodded off when a loud cackling call from outside her window had pierced her slumber. Once again, she peered out the bedroom window, watching as the large chestnut-colored rooster strutted as pretty as you please, right underneath her opened window. With one eye aimed her way, he stared up at her as if to get a glimpse of the newcomer.

  She tugged her long white opera gloves on as far as they would go, adjusted her pale green silk dress, then drew her shawl around her shoulders and walked out to the barn. Her warm breath fanned out in a ghostlike cloud into early morning, the hint of purple, pink and orange hanging on the horizon, heralding the day. When she opened the barn door, an earthy, not exactly unpleasant, scent met her square in the face. Holding a lantern before her, she stepped inside, the dim light lapping up the darkness in warm, gentle waves.

  The crude dwelling closed her in but not so that she felt unsafe. Holding the lantern high, she looked the barn over, noticing the sturdiness and how solid and thick the beams were that endured the weight.

  Just then a shifting sound came from somewhere up ahead. Then it came again followed by a low groan.

  She froze on the spot and slid her gaze to the left where the noise originated. When another low groan met her, she nearly dropped the lantern.

  Her heart pounded hard and fast inside her chest as she scanned the dwelling. She held her breath, images of a mountain lion leaping from the shadows and pouncing on her flashing through her mind. The hair on her neck stood on end. With needlelike claws, fear pierced deep, delving into her peace, her mind, her composure.

  The noise came again followed by a distinctive mooing sound.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Hope sighed in the most unladylike way she’d ever permitted herself. “It’s only a cow.”

  She was being silly. Aaron had cautioned her on many issues, but milking the cow had not been counted among them. There was nothing to fear. Right?

  In truth, she could find trepidation in nearly every place she looked. But if she let fear guide her thoughts, she might not have the fortitude to manage on her own. Growing up in a wealthy Boston family, she’d never been exposed to farm animals except for the horses that had pulled their carriages to and fro. She’d often begged for a cat or a dog to love, but her mother had refused, noting that animals belonged in the country.

  Willing one foot in front of the other, she followed a generously large, dirt-packed corridor to a stall where a fat brown cow stood, its tail swishing from side to side as it chewed on something. It peered over at her, its big brown eyes looking no more malicious than its thin, long tail looked like a weapon.

  “Now, then, aren’t you a fine-looking cow?” She willed her pulse to even out.

  Nonplussed by her greeting, the creature continued chewing in a slow and lazy way.

  She opened the latch to the wood-plank half door and squeezed inside, quickly closing it behind her. Although this four-legged being seemed docile enough, Hope couldn’t be sure that, given the opportunity, it might not escape. And she definitely didn’t fancy the idea of chasing it about the farm yard.

  “You must be the cow I’m going to milk this morning.”

  The beast sighed, its warm breath hanging like a peaceful mist in the crude stable. Aaron had cautioned her never to stare into the eyes of a bull, but he’d obviously never met this cow.

  “Well, I can assure you that I shall honor your modesty in every way possible.” She hung the lantern on a hook by the entrance then draped her shawl over the door. “And I shall be as quick and as thorough as possible—though you’ll forgive me,” she added, peering behind her at where the cow stood as amiably as a child on his first day of school. “With this being my first time tending to such a chore, it may not go quite as well as what you are accustomed to.”

  While she secured her long gloves once more, she tried to remember what Aaron had said last night about this chore. He’d mentioned something about a stool.

  “Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the stool?” she asked, addressing the gigantic beast to calm herself as much as it—in case it got aggravated by her presence.

  Spotting a rough-hewn stool hanging in the corner, she hiked up her skirts and picked her way over two overly large piles of dung. When she had the stool in hand, she set it next to the cow, then stroked her hand down the cow’s side where the soft and warm feel of his fur met her touch.

  The gentle beast turned a bored look on her as if to say, “Enough with the pleasantries. I’m ready to be milked.”

  She smiled at that as she stood back and assessed the situation. “Aaron had insisted on coming over and doing all of the chores this morning, but I thought I’d beat him to it.” She moved up to the cow’s head and gave the beast a scratch behind the ear. “Just between you and me, I’m fairly certain that he doesn’t believe I possess the strength and perseverance to keep up with everything.”

  When the cow turned its head, nearly knocking Hope off balance, she dragged the stool back an inch or two, a little unsettled at the thought of sitting so close to such a powerful animal.

  “Well, Mr. Aaron Drake has a bit of a surprise in store for him, doesn’t he?”

  The cow swished its tail from one side to the other as though offering some kind of agreeable response.

  “Being alone and new to Boulder, I have nothing better to do than to take care of the farm, right? After all, how hard can this really be? At least once I am well-acquainted with every little nuance. I’ll show him that his preconceived idea of Hope Gatlin as a useless city bauble is not even close to being true.”

  Just as quickly as her ire raised thinking about Aaron and his judgmental bossy nature, it diminished to barely a trace as she recalled the compliment he’d given her yesterday regarding her dress—and the way it seemed to have cost him dearly. She also recalled how loving, how very gentle he’d been with his niece. Hope’s heart had fairly melted in that moment, seeing the sweet way Aaron had interacted with Libby and the way Libby adored him.

  Hope knew little of Aaron—only that he loved his family. That had been evident in the way he’d related with them. She’d also noticed that something weighed heavy on the man. The telltale marks of sadness in his gaze had pierced her heart on several occasions.

  She would never forget his tortured gaze as he’d watched Joseph and Katie, the tender, loving way they acted with each other. The image of Aaron stealing admiring glimpses at them stirred Hope’s compassion, her sympathy and a deeply buried vulnerability.

  And that she most certainly couldn’t afford. She must stay strong.

  Although, she had been very grateful for his patience and kindness yesterday. She certainly hadn’t expected to be treated like a fragile flower, but she was appreciative of his understanding and his seemingly genuine consideration for her well-being—even if his duty was misplaced.

  If not for the way he rubbed her wrong, with his general doubt regarding her fortitude and his obligatory offer of marriage, she might consider him a saint—at least in the way he treated Jane.

  Hope trailed her hand down the
cow’s back to where a long tail ended in a wiry tuft of hair. Jane’s image instantly came to mind, her frizzed, unkempt hair poking out from where she’d pulled it back in a haphazard fashion. When the woman had arrived at the gathering yesterday, the amiable conversation with Aaron’s family had come to a screeching halt. In a matter of moments, Jane had swung from public displays of near-sobbing to private, vindictive barbs directed at Hope. And whenever Aaron was anywhere near Hope, Jane would descend on him like a vulture, with talons so sharp Hope was almost certain she’d witnessed Aaron wincing once.

  The cow’s low mooing sound jolted Hope from her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry. I almost forgot about you.” She chuckled at the very idea that she was about to milk a cow. “All right then, if you’re ready to begin, why don’t we get started?”

  Grasping a handful of her skirt with one hand, she straddled the stool and sat down. She retrieved the two teacups she’d brought with her from the crude drawstring bag she’d found in Paul’s pantry and wrapped around her wrist.

  She gave the cow’s belly a whisper of a pat, marveling at just how close she was to it. “I was told that when all is said and done I might get two full containers, if I’m lucky. So, here they are.” She held up the two china cups for the cow to see. “Aaron informed me of that. You might know him. He frowns often, but, in fact, he’s very handsome, rather roguish in his features, really. But I daresay, he would never make a good husband.”

  Chapter Six

  Aaron fastened one of the buttons on his shirt, swallowing hard as he stood at the stall door, his gaze riveted to Hope, her fancy dress and long white gloves as uncommon in a cow’s stall as a miner’s coal dusted garments in some upscale opera house. His hearing totally occupied by her words…that he was very handsome…would never make a good husband…and frowned often.

  He had plenty to frown about, but he didn’t exactly like the idea that this was the first thing she could find to say about him—and to a bovine, no less. And he’d like to think that he’d made a good husband for Ellie. He hadn’t been standing there for more than a minute, but it’d been long enough.