Rocky Mountain Proposal Page 9

  “Please, you must let go of my skirts,” she pleaded.

  Just then a second goat snapped another one of her pristine white undergarments from the clothesline and began munching away. Content as she could be, the goat stared up at the line as if to decide what she might have as her next serving.

  As Hope hiked up her dress and ran across the yard after the perpetrator, Aaron couldn’t even begin to stop a smile from shattering his emotionless face.

  She was a willful one, Hope. At first glance, a person could easily think she wouldn’t be caught dead being so close to the farm animals, let alone running after a goat. He’d thought the same thing—at one time. But riding into the yard this morning, he was proven wrong—again.

  Aaron ate up the distance with his long strides. If he didn’t come to her aid, she’d be chasing after the stubborn creatures all day. But when Hope hunkered down, eye-to-eye with the animal, and began speaking in kindly rational tones as one might with a child, he came to an abrupt halt and laughed.

  Laughed for the first time in a very, very long time.

  She shot her focus over to him as he covered his mouth in a feeble attempt to hide his mirth. Wide-eyed, she gave her head a shake and stared at him as though he’d just lost his senses.

  “You’re laughing?” Her own smile begged at her full lips. “At a time like this, you’re laughing?”

  He nodded, feeling his laughter coming from way down deep, as though escaping from some prison. “I’m sorry,” he sputtered as he approached her. “It’s just too funny.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an orange kitten—the same one Hope had saved the day she’d arrived in Boulder—bounding, head over heels, this way. The little guy looked significantly more filled out, as though Hope had been letting him glean the richest creamiest milk.

  “Don’t come too close, sweetie,” she said, stopping Aaron dead in his tracks.

  He stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “Not you, Aaron. The kitten.” She gave a determined harrumph and then turned to the goat and grabbed a corner of her garment. “Now, if you’ll please give me back my camisole, I will escort you over to your pen and feed you a proper meal.”

  When the animal continued chewing, perfectly content with his fibrous serving, she sighed. She wrapped the corner of the garment around her fingers once, then glanced at where the kitten had gotten waylaid by a crisp brown leaf. Turning her attention to the goat again, she continued. “I do believe that you will be far more satisfied with your hay and grain than this old thing, anyway. So, if you will be so kind as to—”

  When the clothesline snapped, she whipped around to see that the other culprit had removed another one of her whispery white undergarments. Standing, Hope stalked toward that goat. But the guilty party managed to stay one hoof ahead of her.

  Aaron was sure she’d give up, but then she lunged forward. She caught the black and white goat around the neck, fell to her knees in the dirt and held on for dear life.

  “All right, enough of this play,” she scolded in the most patient, kindly way Aaron had ever heard. “Be a good goat, and give me back my garment. Now,” she added, with a smidge less tolerance.

  Amazed by her sheer grit, Aaron wrestled the camisole from the nearest goat and approached the one Hope had nearly hog-tied. “Here, let me try.”

  “No. I will get it.” She shot him a stay-right-where-you-are look.

  He backed off and watched her pry her clothing from the goat’s mouth, seemingly unfazed by the garment’s slobbered and slimy condition.

  “Finally.” Collapsing to the dusty earth, she closed her eyes.

  “They’re stubborn,” he muttered as her eyelashes fluttered open. “But not as stubborn as a certain young lady I know.”

  “I retrieved my garments, did I not?” She levered herself up to sitting, smiling triumphantly.

  “Yes, you did. And you look the part of a goat wrangler, too.” A fair amount of her silky hair had escaped from where she’d fastened it at the back of her head. The green-and-white striped dress she wore was clouded with dust and grass stains. And her lily-white complexion, dotted with smudges of dirt, had flushed to a hearty rose color, making her appear like some waif—and almost irresistible.

  When Aaron held his hand out to help her up, she arched her eyebrows over her eyes. “You’re a bit late on your show of chivalry, Mr. Drake.”

  “I—I’m sorry for laughing,” he muttered, dropping his gaze to the delicate camisole in his other hand. Bad idea. He shot his attention to where the two goats were grazing on wiry sprigs of grass. “Really, I am.”

  Hope smiled then—in the most beautiful, natural way that seemed void of her strict adherence to propriety. And for some reason, he couldn’t keep from staring. She’d just chased after then wrestled a goat to the ground and yet she still smiled.

  When he pulled her up to his side, he tried to ignore the way his fingers tingled at her touch.

  “You fared pretty well, I’d say.” He winked at her, before he even realized what he’d done. “One thing you’ve got to learn about goats, though, is that they’ll eat most anything.”

  “So I see.” She brushed her hands down her sleeves then headed toward the escapees. “Come along, Patience. Penelope. You two need to return to your pen.”

  Aaron caught up to her. “You named them?”

  She peered at him as though he was daft then leaned over and fluffed and fluttered her hands to get the goats moving. “Of course, I did. They seem quite happy with their names, as you can see.” She fluffed her hands again. “That’s the way. Keep going,” she encouraged, amazingly enough, herding the animals toward the pen.

  “I named the cows as well. And honestly, Aaron—” she threw his direction “—they’re really something if you take the time to get to know them.”

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He grinned, picturing Hope calling the cattle by name. “Speaking of the cattle—” he glanced over at where they lingered along the fence line, watching intently “—I remember Paul saying that some of his girls—I mean female cows—were going to be calving soon, and I’m guessing that from the way some of their bellies have been looking so plump—”

  “Shh. They’ll hear you.”

  “I doubt they’ll mind,” he dismissed, grinning. “But just to please you, I’ll never refer to them as plump again.”

  “Good, because you never,” she grunted, giving the black and white goat a gentle push, “ever discuss a lady’s age or weight.”

  “Never again.” He held up his hand.

  “That reminds me, did you know that that big bull, Caesar, doesn’t like being all by himself?” She looked at him only for a moment then shifted her attention to the goats again. “He’d much rather be with the rest of the cows.”

  Aaron chuckled. “I’m sure he would.”

  “I was thinking that I could probably take over feeding them now,” she commented, as though mentioning that she’d just tried out a new recipe. “This way, Penelope. Into the gate.” She gave the white goat a gentle pat on the rump.

  Amazed and worried by her adventurous spirit, he sighed, positioning himself on the other side of her charges in case they dodged the gate. “As willing as you are, I just can’t have you feeding them by yourself. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” Aaron tried to understand how he’d grown so fond of this woman—especially when he had his vows to Ellie.

  Was he being disloyal to Ellie? Was his honor so weak as to stumble over the first pretty face he clapped eyes on?

  Those questions had swirled through his mind with relentless force. He longed to find peace with Ellie and the baby’s death, with himself and with God.

  He’d thought that he was getting close and then he’d made that promise to Paul. The result of his words had only seemed to rip at his still gaping wound. But maybe that’s exactly what he needed in order to heal.

  “I’ll let you help me, but I don’t want you going i
n there by yourself,” he finally said. “Promise me?”

  She gave a conciliatory nod.

  “Thank you.” He sighed with relief as she continued that cute hand-fluffing of hers. When the goats trotted inside the pen, Aaron could barely keep his mouth from gaping open. “Good job there, goat lady.”

  “I’m determined to do this.”

  “So, I see.” Leaning against the fence, he hooked one foot over the other as Hope secured the latch. “How’d they get out, anyway?”

  “I have no idea.” She set her hands at her hips and stared at the thick metal closure. “The gate was closed last night after I fed them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” She nodded emphatically. “Early this morning, I’d hung my wash on the clothesline and didn’t notice anything wrong, but when I came out to feed the goats a little bit ago, they were eating my garments.”

  Aaron wanted to believe that Hope had been attentive in the animals’ care, but he had to admit that with the extreme change of lifestyle for her, he had his doubts.

  Morning’s light peeked through the dirt-clouded windowpanes as Aaron tugged on his boots and downed another gulp of coffee. He’d risen before the sun to get home and do his chores before he returned to do Hope’s chores.

  Ever since Ellie and his baby had passed away, he’d done everything he could to steer clear of his home, and the cluttered, unkempt condition stretched before him like a bitter, old drunk. Sometimes he wondered if his home’s befuddled state was a reflection of his life—piled with so much grief and pain that he didn’t have to look beneath the mess and face the bittersweet memories he and Ellie had made under this roof.

  Until recently he’d been focused on his loss—not necessarily wallowing in it but coming to grips with the sudden shock and then trying to keep moving forward despite the gaping hole left in his heart.

  That is, he did until Hope landed in his life.

  Hope.

  She’d taken him by complete surprise. And try as he might, he’d been hard-pressed to find reasons not to like the woman—especially after overhearing her interchange with Julia and Katie at church last week. Aaron’s heart had been pierced, first by the hardship she’d recounted about her family’s misfortune and her broken engagement and then by her determination to focus on the bright side of things.

  There was more to this woman than what he’d been willing to notice. On outward appearances alone, Hope was beautiful…stunning, really. Paul would’ve been pleased. Although Aaron had judged her as a snippety easterner, he realized now that he’d been too quick to shape an opinion.

  Standing, he swallowed the last bit of coffee in his cup, recalling that he’d never heard one peep of distress uttered by Hope, although she certainly had every reason to buckle under her circumstance. Instead, she’d been firm, steady and unyielding in her determination to rise to her new tasks.

  Raking a hand through his hair, he located the only uncluttered corner on the counter to set his mug when a knock sounded at his door. He scuffed across the room to the door, glancing at the mantel clock to see that it was almost six-thirty.

  Opening the door, he found himself peering down at Hope. When she gave him one of her tentative smiles, the kind that seemed to seep straight into his heart like the sun warming the ground after a harsh winter, his dull mood brightened a little.

  “Good morning, Aaron.” Smoothing wayward wisps of dark hair from her face, she stared up at him.

  “Good morning to you.” He dipped his head her way.

  “I’m terribly sorry to bother you so early.” She tugged at her fitted bodice, the lavender color of her dress reminding him of the larkspur dotting the meadows and mountainsides this time of year.

  “It’s no bother. I was just getting ready to finish my morning chores and head back to your place.”

  “How—how are you doing?”

  “I’m just fine. And you?” he asked, amused by her uncharacteristically shy, odd behavior.

  She was something…Hope. She was regal, stubborn, naive and outright charming all in one. Apart from the dirt smudged on the very tip of her cute little nose, she looked ready to attend some elegant affair.

  He breathed in the invigorating spring air, trying to clear his head. “So what brings you by so early?” When she hesitated, threading her fingers together, alarm pulsed through his veins. “Is something wrong?”

  Opening the door wider, he gestured her in before he thought better of it. His house was a mess with dishes, mementos, clothes—even the handmade cradle where Jeremiah’s body had rested in until Aaron had built him a coffin.

  The vivid, heartbreaking memories of that day haunted him day and night, clouding over any solid bit of peace he’d managed to find. Joseph had been there with support and care. In fact, even though he’d just found out that his blindness was permanent, he’d helped Aaron build the coffin. It’d been a painstaking process not because of some elaborate design but because it’d been for Aaron’s son—his only child…stillborn.

  “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting something.” Her tender voice gently tugged him from his silent solitary grief.

  “No, don’t worry. What seems to be the problem?”

  The minutest lines of distress etched in her face. “Well, I’m sure that everything is fine, but just in case, I wanted to check with you.”

  “What is it?” Pulling a chair out from the table, he dusted it off for her to sit.

  He doubted the chair had been used since Ellie had last sat there. It’d been her spot. On several occasions, Katie had offered to come over and clean his house for him, but he’d barricaded his home, just like his heart.

  “It’s one of the cows—Isabel,” she measured out, plastering her hands to her lap. “She seems to be overly restless. She’s groaning and mooing and doesn’t seem to want to be with the other cows this morning.”

  “Are you sure?” He pulled out his chair and sat down to her right. He had to resist the sudden urge to reach out and remove the dirt smudge from her nose.

  “They’re always so kind to each other, licking each other and standing together the way they do but not today. Not with this one, at any rate.” If Hope noticed his home’s state of disarray as her attentive gaze flitted around for a second or two, she did a remarkable job hiding her shock. “Do you suppose she’s sick?”

  “I’m not sure, but as soon as I get my last chore done we’ll head over there and I’ll check her out.”

  “What do you suppose is wrong with her?” Her shoulders slumped slightly.

  “She could be one of the soon-to-be mamas I was checking on last night.” He pulled a hand over his jaw. “Was she standing?”

  She nodded, her brow furrowed in concern.

  “Grazing?”

  “No.”

  Seeing her distress and knowing how hard she worked to keep her composure, he gave her arm a comforting, albeit brief, squeeze, setting his pulse to thumping a little faster. “It’s all right, Hope. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of things.”

  She pulled in a deep breath, resting her hand where his had just been. “I tried to calm her when I gave the cows grain this morning, but it didn’t seem to help. And she didn’t even seem to want to eat.”

  His heart screeched to a halt. “You fed them?”

  When she gave no response but instead fixed her gaze on the cluttered table, Aaron set his hand beneath her chin and nudged her unwilling gaze to his. “Hope, listen to me. I’ve been feeding the cattle every morning and night. I told you I’d do that.”

  “I know you did.” She nibbled her lower lip for a fleeting second. “But I have to learn how to do this myself, Aaron. I can’t count on you forever.”

  That struck him dead in the heart. And for some reason he was overcome by an undeniable longing for her to count on him, to trust him. In spite of her desire for independence, he wanted her to need him.

  “In fact, it is completely unnecessary that you sleep in the barn anymore. I
’m fine by myself.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Truly, I am,” she said.

  He pushed up from the table and scuffed over to where Ellie’s picture sat, crowded among other things that had been hers, on the fireplace mantel. Folding his arms at his chest he told himself that the admission—that he wanted Hope to need him—was outright wrong. Wasn’t it? Every bit as wrong as cutting down the biggest oldest tree in the forest, right?

  He’d stretched the vows he’d made to Ellie across his heart like some thick, solid board, barring those who would think to knock and maybe even barring any rogue emotions he might have, from escaping. He’d been certain there’d never be room in his heart for another woman and had thought that Ellie’s sweet memory would always stake out the forefront of his mind and heart—forever. Until this past week.

  Picking up the small, framed image, he stared at Ellie—nineteen years old, beautiful in her simple ivory wedding gown, young and full of vigor and standing at the beginning of a new life. He was desperate to infuse her image into his mind because she was fading, just like the sepia-toned picture caught behind the tarnished silver frame’s glass.

  When Hope’s chair scraped away from the table, he yanked himself from his thoughts. He scrambled to recall what they’d just been talking about as he set the frame down.

  “You stayed clear of the cattle, didn’t you?” he choked out, remembering the way the cattle had crowded around her that very first day. “I don’t want you getting hurt.” His gut knotted at the horrible thought. “Did you stay away?”

  “For the most part.” She hiked her chin up a notch and pulled her shoulders back in that telling way of hers that promised a fancy-laced boot-to-cowboy boot confrontation, if warranted. “But not entirely. I couldn’t stand to hear Isabel sounding so upset, so I went in the corral to comfort her.”

  He set his back teeth and crossed his arms at his chest, struggling to wrangle in his frustration and fear. She didn’t deserve to be treated like a child—she was too much a woman for that. But, compassion or not, he couldn’t have her acting without taking into account the dangers she faced. “Hope.”