Shoulda Been A Cowboy

She turned quickly and made her escape before she did something foolish, like standing on tiptoe to kiss him good-night.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in recent memory, Ethan had slept like a rock. Not a single nightmare, not one of the terrors that had stalked his dreams every night for the past few months had disturbed him. Instead of confronting the usual twisted, sweat-soaked sheets, flung pillows and a residual uneasiness, he had awakened to sunshine, birdsong and a sense of hopeful anticipation. Mercifully absent was the smothering cloud of depression that had cloaked his waking hours. After a shower and shave in the old-fashioned but spacious bathroom, he found himself humming as he dressed in jeans and T-shirt and pulled on socks and work boots.

Minutes later, lured by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, he entered the dining room, where a single setting at the huge table indicated he was the B and B’s only guest. That fact meant he’d have more time alone with his lovely innkeeper. The grin that had taken residence on his face since he’d awakened in such good humor widened at the prospect.

He poured himself a cup of steaming coffee from the carafe on the sideboard and settled at the table to consider his situation. Just his luck to encounter the most fascinating woman he’d ever met on the day she’d lost one of her best friends. Last night, Caroline had been understandably preoccupied. This morning, he faced the problem of how to get to know her better without intruding on her grief and looking like a jerk.

Before he could frame a solution to his dilemma, the door that led to the kitchen swung open, and Caroline, carrying a serving tray, entered the dining room. With her cheeks flushed from cooking, her blond hair gleaming in the morning sun, and a light blue denim apron embroidered with Tuttle’s Bed and Breakfast covering her pale green shorts and shirt, she looked even more enticing than when he’d found her yesterday, dozing in the backyard.

Bedazzled by her smile, Ethan imagined waking up to such a vision every day, and the contemplation robbed him of breath.

“Sleep well?” Caroline set a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, sausage and fluffy grits in front of him, then placed a basket of warm muffins at his elbow.

“You bet. Must be the peace and quiet. I’m used to city noises.”

A closer look revealed faint shadows beneath her eyes, and a slight tremor in the hand that served his orange juice. Caroline, from the looks of her, hadn’t rested well.

“Why don’t you join me?” he asked. “I hate to eat alone.”

Actually, lately he’d preferred his own company, but his time at the B and B was limited, and he didn’t want to lose the chance to learn more about Caroline Tuttle.

His mother would be pleased.

“What you need, Ethan Garrison, is a nice girl. Settle down. Have children,” had been her mantra for the last ten years. After Jerry’s death, her not-so-subtle suggestions had turned to almost frantic pleas. “I’m not getting any younger. I’d like to know my grandchildren before I die.”

“You wouldn’t want me to marry a woman I don’t love,” Ethan had countered, “just to give you grandkids?”

“Of course not.” His mother had set her pleasant face in a pout. “But the right woman’s out there, just waiting for you to come along.”

“And how will I know when I’ve found her?” His question had been more teasing than serious. “Far as I’m aware, even a state-of-the-art GPS is no help in locating a prospective wife.”

“You’ll know,” his mother had insisted in poetic terms contrary to her practical nature. “Her name will sing in your soul and you won’t be able to think of anything but her.”

Ethan had laughed and called his mom a hopeless romantic, but watching Caroline pour herself a cup of coffee and take a seat across from him, he was beginning to understand what his mother had meant.

He buttered a warm muffin, took a bite and almost moaned with pleasure at the burst of flavors.

“Good, huh?” Caroline said with a smile that made him want to rise from his chair and kiss her.

“So good I’d be willing to marry the woman who baked these.”

Caroline laughed. “You’d have to fight off her husband first. And as a former Marine, he’d be tough to beat, even for you.”

“You didn’t bake these?”

She shook her head. “Jodie at the cafе. They’re her specialty.”

“What’s your specialty?”

Caroline nodded toward his plate. “I wish I had a dollar for every breakfast I’ve cooked the past fifteen years.”

“And what would you do with all that cash?”

“Buy a horse.”

He almost choked on his grits. “A horse?”

She nodded and her brilliant blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the tall east windows. “I’ve always wanted to learn to ride.”

Caroline was nothing if not full of surprises. Most women he’d met would have wished for jewelry, designer clothes or a trip to some exotic locale. But horseback riding?

With his time with Caroline growing short, Ethan decided to take a chance. He’d never ridden a horse, but if climbing onto the back of an unfamiliar animal was what it took to make headway with the woman who captured his imagination, he’d gladly make a fool of himself. “Go riding with me today.”

She considered him with a cool stare over the rim of her coffee cup. “You’re not serious?”

“Why not? I have a couple of days to kill. So why not spend one of them horseback riding?”

She cocked a feathery eyebrow in a manner that shot a bolt of heat through him. “Have you ridden much?”

“Never,” he admitted. “But there’s always a first time.”

She shook her head, but whether in astonishment or refusal, he couldn’t tell.

“Is that a no?”

“That is most definitely a no.” A slight smile softened her rejection.

“Because your mama warned you not to take up with strangers?”

“Because, one, there’s no place to ride horses within a hundred miles, and, two, I have…arrangements to make.”

“Your friend?”

She nodded and her smile faded, replaced by a sorrowful expression that dimmed the light in her eyes.

His opportunity was sliding away, slipping from his grasp, and he couldn’t think of a damned thing to stop it. “I’m sorry.”

She pressed her lips together as if fighting back tears and pushed away from the table, taking her coffee cup with her. In a moment, the kitchen door closed behind her, leaving Ethan alone to finish his breakfast and contemplate his next move. He’d be leaving tomorrow, and he was running out of time.

THE FOLLOWING DAY, after a funeral attended by more than half the town and families from the outlying farms, Eileen Bickerstaff was laid to rest behind the Pleasant Valley Community Church in a cemetery plot on a rolling hill that overlooked the Piedmont River and far mountains. At the end of the service, Rand and Brynn Benedict invited the mourners to their home at River Walk for lunch.

River Walk, an impressive multistory log mansion with multiple decks that descended to the river, was the perfect spot for a crowd. Teenage boys from Archer Farm directed arriving guests to parking spots and to the buffet, catered by Jodie and set up on the largest deck beneath the shade of spreading oaks. Conversations centered on Eileen and the impact her life had made on so many people in the valley.

Caroline, wearing a sleeveless black linen dress, helped Jodie serve. Amy Lou Baker, beautician at the Hair Apparent, and Jay-Jay, the mechanic from the garage, heaped their plates and moved away to find a seat at one of the many tables Rand had rented for the event.

“Eileen was an angel,” Jodie said during a lull in the buffet line. “When I was fifteen, unmarried, and pregnant with Brittany, an anonymous benefactor gave my parents a thousand dollars to help with my expenses. I didn’t know until Rand told me yesterday that the gift came from Eileen.”

Caroline nodded. “From the snippets of conversation I’ve heard this morning, she showed that same generosity to lots of others in the valley, too. She was a good neighbor and a good friend.”