Cowboy Enchantment - By Pamela Browning Page 0,20

because without her glasses she’d been as blind as a bat. After her delight over her new hair color and the cut that made her hair bouncy and the teasing on top that gave her some height, she had been way too vain to wear her glasses. She’d settled on the sunglasses, which were made to her prescription, but they were for distance, and they blurred things close up. When she was fortunate enough to get that close to Hank, she wanted to see everything she could—the little scar on his chin (maybe he’d gotten it when he was thrown from a bronco), the freckle next to his left eye (too much sun) and the bump on the bridge of his nose (another bronco, or maybe a roadhouse brawl). Cowboys often led rough lives, which led to their having imperfections, and Erica wanted to know every one of Hank’s.

When she reached her room, she turned on her laptop. Charmaine’s e-mail reply was waiting for her.

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

Erica

HE HAS A BABY? How did that happen?

Charmaine

Erica smiled and tapped out her reply.

Charmaine

I believe it happened the way all babies happen.

Love, E.

For the moment it was nice to contemplate what it would be like to engage, with her cowboy, in the activity that made babies. Nice to contemplate, nice to fantasize.

Which she would do for the next few minutes. And then she’d go to dinner and hope that Hank would stop by to see Justine and maybe bring his baby.

Padre Luis Speaks…

OH, THAT CAT! Kiss her, she says to the cowboy. Would I ever say a thing like that? Por supresto que no! Of course not.

This Erica, she is still not real. She wants the cowboy. She thinks he is perfect. But her cowboy is not really a cowboy. And the cowboy wants her, but not the real her. It is a confounding thing, this. Why do they not see that until they become real to each other, they will not find love?

I think that they do not know they seek love. They believe they are looking for something else. Sex, perhaps, or…Hmmph. When will these two people learn that love is the only thing that matters? By Jesus, Joseph and the Blessed Mother, I pray that they may triumph over their confusion.

I am spending more and more time on my knees lately. I am glad that I cannot feel the cactus spines when I kneel to pray. Often in my previous existence I wondered why our Lord’s garden of earthly delights had to include such a hurtful plant as the cactus. Now I see that it does not matter. Truly the Lord is beneficent.

Still, He seems to ignore my pleadings concerning the cat. If that cat comes around, why, it is apparently up to me to tell her what I think about her stealing my voice.

Not that she will hear me. No one hears me now except God, who sometimes does not answer.

For I am only a humble priest, after all. But I try, I try.

Chapter Four

“You look, well, different,” Justine marveled when Erica arrived at the Big House for dinner. “I like you with sassy hair.”

“Your Tico is a wonder,” Erica told her. “He has released my hair from its brown boringness, and I’m never going to change the color.” She all but pirouetted, basking in the attention.

Justine only smiled. “Not to diminish what Tico has done, but the low humidity here is great. You’ll need to use more moisturizer on your skin, though.”

Erica followed Justine into the kitchen, where a pot was bubbling on the stove. “What’s that?”

“The chef sent over chicken and tarragon dumplings, which should help us put on the pounds. Would you mind handing me that dish?”

Erica busied herself spooning fattening hollandaise sauce over asparagus spears and carrying it to the table, which was set with earthenware pottery and chunky candlesticks. Justine brought the main dish to the table and said with a slight laugh, “The table looks so lonely with only the two of us. Sometimes I ask Hank to join me, but these days he doesn’t like to take time away from Kaylie.”

“That’s his daughter?” Erica tried not to appear too curious, but her ears perked up at the mention of Hank’s name.

“Yes, and he’s new to the job of being a daddy. Poor Hank—he’s had a hard time of it.”

Erica spooned chicken and dumplings onto her plate, keeping her eyes lowered so that Justine wouldn’t suspect her interest. “A hard time—how do you mean?”

“Oh,