The Double Heart Ranch

Pushing back a glimmer of hope, she managed to ask, “Anything else?”

He nodded. “Someone who can make a commitment and stick with it.”

She wondered if he were looking for the impossible. She’d learned long ago that promises were meant to be broken. At least by others. When she’d wrestled her turbulent emotions under control, she looked up at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “And what do you have to offer this make-believe marriage?”

This time he sat back against the seat. “What?”

“You want some woman to move out here and live with you as man and wife, tend to your child, and I assume do her wifely duties like cooking and cleaning and…” Heat stung her cheeks and she glanced away, unable to meet his intense gaze.

A palpable pause thrummed between them. Elise toyed with her pen, turning it over and over between her numb fingers. Why had she gotten involved with this man’s problem? Why did he make her yearn for something she’d long ago given up on?

She didn’t care if he found a wife or what he and this new wife would or would not do in an intimate setting. Good grief! What had gotten into her?

“Look,” she said, breaking the silence, “you have to bring something to the table, something of value. Why would a woman who doesn’t know or love you want to marry you? What are you offering?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, making dark brown tufts stand on end. The lines around his eyes and those bracketing his mouth deepened with tension. “I hadn’t really thought in those terms.” He rocked forward, then back. “But you’re right. She ought to know what she’s getting. I’m no lottery ticket. No real prize. At least that’s what my ex-wife said.”

She’d almost expected him to start cataloging his selling points. Rusty certainly would have. But she was beginning to realize that Cole Dalton wasn’t like the showboat she’d followed out west.

After a slow, thoughtful breath, Cole stated, “I’m offering a home. A family.” His mouth compressed into a firm, thin line. “I make a decent living. Nothing fancy. But I can provide for a wife and my child. I’m honest. Faithful. And loyal.” He gave a sputtering laugh. “Jeez, I sound like a hound dog for sale.”

She smiled at his analogy. He was anything but. And much, much more. Her pulse skittered at the thought of the possibilities. More anxious to hear his response to her next question than she cared to admit, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Do you want more kids?”

He blew out a pent-up breath. “You ask tough questions. Are you sure you didn’t take a class at the Barbara Walter’s school of journalism?”

She chuckled. “I’m sure.”

He turned his attention to the sun-splattered window that looked out onto the main thoroughfare that bisected Desert Springs. In the distance, a car horn blared. A furry dog pranced past, hunting for a scrap of food or his owner.

Elise watched Cole—the sternness of his profile, the decisive way his nose slanted toward his chin, the hard curve of his determined jaw.

Finally, his lips thinned, and he spoke. “I used to want a whole passel of kids. I was raised in the house where I live now. It’s a rambling old place. Been on our land for four generations.” He rubbed his palms together, and then clasped his hands, folding his long fingers, making Elise remember his gentle yet firm touch earlier. A warmth spread through her limbs, and she had a hard time concentrating on his next words. “I was an only child. It was a lonely existence.”

It sounded heavenly to Elise. She imagined the total adoration of two parents being focused on one child—her. The air in her lungs compressed.

“My folks wanted more kids, but were never able to have any more. I always wanted to give them plenty of grandkids, to fill up all the bedrooms in the house. Hear the laughter…”

“The shrieks. The arguments,” Elise added, remembering what it was like to grow up in an orphanage with at least twelve kids to a room. She’d always dreamed of a peaceful home, some place quiet and calm. She’d imagined a town much like Desert Springs where not much happened but where plenty of folks cared about each other, a place she could be a citizen, a neighbor, a member of the P.T.A. As she’d grown older, she’d started helping out with the younger kids. She’d enjoyed spending time with them, helping them get dressed, supervising their playtime. And she’d started dreaming of a family of her own.

She placed a hand over her stomach. Someday, she thought, someday soon. She wouldn’t have all of her dream. But she’d have a small, precious part.

“Maybe that was simply a fairy tale I’d conjured up,” Cole said. “Maybe it would have been more chaotic than I imagined.” He shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to discuss the possibility of more kids with the woman who answers the ad to be my wife.”

“You sound like there will be only one.”

In an aw-shucks manner, he shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’ll be lucky if there is one.”

She had a feeling women would flock to this little town on the edge of nowhere to meet this tender cowboy and his child. Suddenly a part of her didn’t want to help with the advertisement. Because she’d started contemplating something foolish and inconceivable.

Maybe, just maybe, his solution was the answer she’d been looking for.

One week later, Elise jounced the borrowed truck over the cattle guard and down the graveled drive toward a large, two-story farmhouse that looked better than Cole had described. And even better than she’d imagined. A white picket fence surrounded it. Tiny pink flowers in the yard battled the May heat. A solitary tree leaned toward the side of the house in the direction she’d learned the wind always blew here in west Texas. On either side of the house were sprawling fields dotted with rusty brown-and-white speckled cows.

A hot, stiff breeze blew through the open window of the truck and brought the scent of earth and animals. She parked in front of the house, breathed in the warm air, absorbed the sights and knew she’d finally come home. This was where she wanted to stay. Now, she simply had to convince Cole that she was the wife he needed.

The truck’s door squeaked as she opened it and stepped out of the dusty cab. She fluffed out her loose-fitting skirt that felt sticky against the backs of her thighs from the oppressive heat in Chuck’s non-air-conditioned pickup. Sunshine warmed her shoulders and made her squint as she turned toward the house.

Maybe she should have called first. But then if she had, Cole might have turned her down flat. No, she had a better chance in person. Not that she had much to offer, she thought, in the looks department. She was of average height, but her features had always seemed plain to her. She was too pale and had too many freckles. She’d never measured up to other children at the orphanage who’d been adopted early. Meanwhile, she’d been left waiting…waiting for someone to want her.

Well, she wasn’t going to wait any longer. She’d done her homework by asking questions about Cole Dalton. She’d learned he was a respected rancher in the community. No one had a bad word to say against him. All had confirmed what she’d suspected—he cared deeply for his daughter. What more could she ask for than an honest, upstanding man who loved being a father?

So what if love wasn’t a bargaining chip? She’d realized a long time ago that Prince Charming wasn’t going to ride up and save her. There wasn’t always a perfect situation. She’d take what she could get. If she could get Cole.

She marched up the steps to the house and rang the doorbell. Impatiently she tapped her foot. Her nerves were tangled up like a ball of yarn. What would Cole say when he saw her? Would he laugh at her audacity? Would he turn her away? Her insides twisted and knotted, but she squared her shoulders. She’d been rejected before. If Cole laughed at her now, it wouldn’t kill her.

“Hello.” The voice came from behind her, and she swung around to find Cole at the bottom of the steps.

Her gaze stuck to his sweat-slicked bare chest. His rock-hard, suntanned muscles gleamed in the sunlight as if he were a marble statue. But she knew he was flesh and blood. She’d felt his electric touch the week before. Now she couldn’t stop staring at the play of muscles along his chest. Her mouth went bone dry, and she couldn’t have swallowed to save her life.

Casually, he leaned against a white-painted post. With his thumb he tipped his cowboy hat backwards on his head, framing his face with shadows and sunlight. Slowly her gaze slid down the length of him. He wore tight-fitting faded jeans and a pair of scuffed boots. At that moment she began to doubt the wisdom of coming here.

“Elise?” he asked, his voice crisp as an early morning chill.

She nodded, feeling as if the heat had zapped her ability to think or speak. Her purse slipped off her shoulder, and she grabbed for it. Twisting the strap around her fingers and cutting off the circulation, she hoped blood would rush back to her brain and she’d be able to answer his simple question. “Hi.”

His mouth remained firm and unmoving.

She scuffed the soles of her shoes against the porch planks. What am I doing here? The silence echoed between them. Cole lifted his Stetson, ran his fingers through his thick brown hair and then lowered the brim. It shaded his eyes and thoughts from her, unnerving her even more.

She had to get a firm grip on herself and take charge. “I came about the ad.”

Cole’s silence weighed heavily on her. He crossed his arms over his chest, making his shoulders appear as wide as the Texas landscape.

She swallowed the last of her pride. “Have you sent it to the papers yet?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I mean, uh…” Her thoughts became scrambled beneath the heat of his gaze. “I have an idea that you might want to consider. That is, if you’re still interested.”

He gave a slow nod. “It’s warm today.” He ran his hand down his chest. Sweat clung to his skin, making it shimmer in the sunlight.

Her pulse skittered.

“I could probably hunt us up something cool to drink. Come on in.”

“Sure.” She clasped her purse at her waist, feeling as awkward as a girl about to ask a boy to a Sadie Hawkins dance. “That’d be nice.”

He walked up the steps in a slow, sauntering way that only a cowboy could manage. He pushed open the door and nodded for her to enter ahead of him. Doffing his hat, he hung it on a peg inside the door.