The Rancher's Texas Twins

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“If you couldn’t contain the girls at the Haven Boardinghouse, they’d have been impossible at Carol’s fancy Blue Bonnet place. And as for Roz Sackett? No one convinces that woman of anything but her own importance. Frankly, I’m amazed she put up with your sweet girls as long as she did.” Marlene sipped her own coffee. “No, what got you here was Gabriel’s determination to do whatever it took to save the boys ranch. Oh, I know he talks a good game, all serious and determined and the like, but if there’s one thing that man can’t resist, it’s a good cause that needs saving.”

Avery had no intention to be thought of as a cause that needed saving. She’d make it with the girls on her own without Danny. She’d head back to Tennessee when—or before—this was all over and give the girls a good life and fine futures.

“Comes from the way he was brought up, I expect,” Marlene continued. “He and his mom went through some hard times. Makes him eager to give back now that he has so much.” Marlene swung her hands around the large kitchen. “And so much space! This big old house practically echoes emptiness some nights. I’m glad for you and the girls. He will be, too, although don’t hold your breath to hear him admit it. The girls will settle in, though, honey, you just watch. Why, in no time I expect—”

Her words were cut off by a loud crash, a tiny wail and the unmistakable sound of little feet running down the hallway floor. Avery practically tossed her coffee on the counter and ducked down the hallway to see Dinah tumbling at her with wide, frightened eyes. “Mama!”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Dinah just buried her face in Avery’s shoulder, clinging tight. “Mama. Mama. My pink’s all gone. All the pink is gone.”

It took a minute for Avery’s undercaffeinated brain to process what Dinah was saying. “Your pink’s not gone, sweetheart.”

Dinah pulled away and rubbed her eyes while she looked at Avery. “I woke up and it was all gone.” Her pout was as sweet as it was serious. Avery stood up, took Dinah’s hand and began walking back toward their bedrooms. “It’s still there. You and Debbie just crawled in bed with me last night. Look.” She reached the girls’ adjoining room and pushed the door open.

“My pink!” squealed Dinah, instantly joyful. She grabbed at the candy-colored sheets and turned to look at her mama. “I thought I dreamed it.”

“Well, isn’t she the sweetest thing ever,” Marlene said from behind her. “Do you like cinnamon toast, Miss Dinah?”

“Cinnamon toast?” Dinah’s eyes grew wide.

“I make the best cinnamon toast in the county. Want to try some for breakfast?”

Dinah nodded. “Ebbie, too?” When Dinah was sad or tired, she often dropped the D in her sister’s name. Avery, who’d never had brothers or sisters, adored how her daughters always thought kindly of each other. Except when one had a toy the other one wanted, in which case kindness went out the window in a heartbeat.

Marlene smiled. “Why, of course Debbie gets some, too.” She hunched down to Dinah’s level. “Let’s go roust her up, shall we?” She slanted her glance up toward Avery with a knowing grin. “That way your mama can have a long, hot shower while we eat our breakfast.”

That, and the hot coffee, had Avery ready to nominate Marlene Frank for Woman of the Year. She’d have to find some friends like Marlene back in Tennessee. There had to be someone in Danny’s hometown who didn’t think she’d driven him off, who would believe that it was he who abandoned them. The only home the girls had ever known was back there; she owed it to them to build her business up enough to make it work with Danny’s alimony.

She was a fighter, always had been. Maybe she’d consider staying just long enough to see if Gabe was right and Cyrus really did leave her something worthwhile.

Chapter Four (#udda3a390-468b-5857-9bb8-da36a273e3de)

Gabe knocked on the weather-beaten door of Harley Jones’s small cottage on the west side of his ranch Friday morning. It was early, but Harley was an early riser like himself. The old man would be glad for the pot of hearty food, and Gabe liked to check in frequently on the widower’s deteriorating health. “Harley?”

The sound of shuffling came from the other side of the door. “Hold your horses, I’m a’comin’.”

The door creaked open, and Gabe made a mental note to bring oil on his next visit. Harley was trying to hold the place together on his own, but he needed help.

“Gabe.” Harley pulled open the door, then hobbled on his cane back inside to the cabin’s meager kitchen. “The league meeting’s not today, is it?”

“Not today, Harley. I just thought you might help me finish off some of Marlene’s good stew. She always makes enough to feed an army, and now with our—” Gabe groped for some way to describe Avery and her daughters’ descent upon his quiet household “—houseguests, she’s making even more.”

He opened Harley’s fridge, scanning the near-empty appliance as he settled the casserole dish Marlene had sent. Harley wasn’t eating nearly as well as he should. Gabe made a note to visit again soon with some groceries. The pretense of escaping the noisy state of the ranch house would work well for everyone.

Not that he needed any incentive to visit Harley. Even as a young man on his stepfather’s ranch—back when things were still tight, before Gabe stepped in as owner and made Five Rocks the prosperous ranch it was today—Gabe loved to spend time with Harley at this cabin. Leon, the last of Gabe’s two stepfathers, had been a hard man who’d grown harder when Gabe’s mother died.

Gabe warmed at the welcome sound of Harley putting on coffee—the old-fashioned way, in a blue enamel pot on a stove burner, never one of those “newfangled electric gizmos.” Most of the happy memories Gabe had of his time on this ranch were his afternoons with Harley. Five Rocks wouldn’t be Five Rocks without Harley Jones puttering around, even if he’d stopped doing any real work on the ranch years ago.

“Houseguests?” Harley had reason to look surprised. There hadn’t been a houseguest at Five Rocks for years. “Who you got staying at the ranch?”

Gabe mused at his own reluctance to own up to what he’d done. “Tiny pink things.” He’d found markers on his study desk this morning. Actually, he’d found marker drawings on his study desk blotter, too. A great big pink blob he suspected was supposed to be a heart. Or an elephant. Or a flower—it was tough to tell.

Harley turned toward him, cupping a hand to one ear. “Come again? You got piglets up at the house?”

Now Gabe laughed outright. “Not piglets. Little girls. Two little four-year-old girls and their mother. They’re staying with us since Roz Sackett wasn’t much for the noise and they need to stay in Haven.”

“You took in little girls?” Harley shook his head. “That’s a first. No wonder you’re knocking on my door so early.” Harley got two cups down from his cupboard. “Ain’t nowhere for them to stay in town? Really?”

“The Blue Bonnet’s full up with some women’s thing and we need Avery Culpepper and her girls to be present at the anniversary celebration.”

“Culpepper? More kin of Cyrus’s, you mean?”

Gabe remembered that Harley’s health had forced him to miss the last several Lone Star Cowboy League meetings—the old man knew nothing of the soap opera that had played out in the last few months. “His real long lost granddaughter, to be exact.”

“I thought you said she showed up last month.”

“Yes and no.” Gabe reached for a simple way to recount the crazy turn of events. “Turns out that Avery Culpepper wasn’t the real Avery Culpepper, but a gold digger out to grab Cyrus’s estate.”

“No kidding? Sounds just like ol’ Cyrus to be stirring up trouble even from his grave.” He pointed a bony finger at Gabe. “So you got the real Avery—and her daughters, no less—living with you down at the big house?” Harley began to laugh but it dissolved into a hacking cough that had the old man reaching for his handkerchief and sitting for a spell. “How’s that working out?” he snickered in between wheezes.

Gabe felt himself smile. “I’m here before you put the coffee on. What do you think?”

Harley shook his head and dabbed his eyes. “You’re a good man, Gabe. A bit crazy from the sound of it, but a good man.” He made to rise as the coffeepot boiled, but Gabe stopped and got up himself so that Harley could sit and recover his breath. “The funeral was months ago. Why’s she here now and not then?” Harley asked.

“Cyrus made his granddaughter’s presence one of the crazy requirements in his will. You remember—we’ve got to have her here to deed his land and house to the boys ranch. We just found her. The real her, I mean.”

“Requirements? There’s more than that one?”

Harley must be the only person in Haven unaware of Cyrus Culpepper’s wild scheme. Gabe must have told him about the Avery bit, but forgot to mention the other requirement of finding the ranch’s original residents. Probably because the hunt for those three old men was making him crazy lately. “Nothing you need to worry about, Harley. We got it covered.”

“Good place, the boys ranch.” The words sputtered out between raspy hacks that left Harley reaching for his coffee. “You know that. Cyrus knew it, too. What a fool notion to play games with a good cause like that.”

“I know. But the boys ranch will lose the best thing to happen to it in years if we don’t play along. So we’re playing along.” Gabe put his hand on Harley’s arm, disturbed to feel it tremble under his palm. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll take care of it. You know me, I don’t ever give up.”

Harley looked up. “Never did.”

“And I won’t now.” Gabe checked his watch, not wanting to bother the old man any further with the weight of his problems. “I’ve got to run by the sheriff’s office and pick up some supplies at the store before I get back for lunch. I’ll get some oil for that door while I’m out. You take care of yourself and I’ll come out in a day or so to fix those hinges.”

“Sure.” Harley looked lost in thought. The old man really was declining, and way too fast for Gabe’s liking.

“Thanks for the coffee. See you later, Harley. I’ll see myself out.”

“Sure.”

Gabe pulled the squeaking door shut behind him. Harley wasn’t doing well. Another problem to add to the growing mountain of challenges around him these days.

* * *

Avery was sitting on the porch emailing furniture websites to a client—she’d found quite a few ways to keep business going remotely once she put her mind to it—when Gabe pulled up. He hauled a pair of large boxes out of the back of his truck. “What’s that?”

“Those,” Gabe said with a sheepish smile on his face, “are two boxes of sanity.”

Avery laughed as she closed her laptop. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten thirty uninterrupted minutes online in the daylight hours—extra adults were indeed a blessing and the sense of accomplishment had lifted her spirits considerably. “Sanity?” She put her hands up to her cheeks in mock surprise. “If only I’d known it came in boxes.” Truly, not much in Haven had met the criteria for sanity since her arrival.

Gabe, who laughed, must have felt the same way, for he replied, “Well, if it came in spray bottles, I can think of a few people I’d douse in a heartbeat these days.”

Avery walked up to the boxes to see a combination of wood planks, plastic pieces and lengths of rope. Sanity, evidently, came with the label Some Assembly Required. It struck her as a fitting metaphor. “Seriously, what are these?”

Gabe sat back on one hip. “Well, if all goes as planned, these will be swings tomorrow. Some boys from the ranch are coming over to help me put them together so Dinah and Debbie have some swings to play on while they’re here.”

Gabe was building swings? Was this some sort of incentive to keep them beyond a short stay? Gratitude and suspicion tumbled together in Avery’s stomach—she didn’t like being indebted to anyone, much less someone like Gabe Everett. And now she’d meet the boys from the ranch. She’d met supporters and volunteers from the ranch—Haven was full of them, as if the whole town had taken up the boys ranch cause. But until now, she’d deftly avoided spending any time with the actual residents. Or on the grounds. She didn’t want to know the people whose lives would be directly affected if she didn’t stay.

“You don’t need to put up swings for us,” she blurted out a bit more sharply than she ought to have.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I found markers in my study, and a pink blob colored on my desk blotter. Marlene suggested that if I wanted to avoid my house being overrun with tiny pinkness, we needed some outside playthings.” He pushed the boxes up against the trunk of an expansive tree and started walking toward the house. “I’ve discovered I have a low tolerance for tiny pinkness.”

His voice held the not-quite-disguised hint of irritation, making Avery think the “box of sanity” metaphor wasn’t all fiction. Which, of course, only made everything worse.

As if to prove Gabe’s point, Debbie and Dinah came barreling through the doors with Marlene behind them. “Mr. Boots!” they shouted, entirely too excited to see their host.

“We’re getting octopus for lunch,” Debbie proclaimed with a ridiculous air of authority.

Both Gabe and Avery looked up at Marlene for an explanation. Preschoolers didn’t eat octopus. She certainly didn’t, either.

Evidently Gabe did. “You’re feeding the girls calamari?” Avery was glad to hear the same shock in his voice that currently iced her stomach.

That made Marlene laugh. “Of course not. I’d never think of such a thing.”

“Hot dogs,” Dinah said, looking as if she couldn’t fathom why the grown-ups weren’t catching on. A “box of sanity” was starting to look like a very good thing indeed.

Marlene planted her hands on her hips. “Land sakes, child, didn’t your mama ever make you hot-dog octopuses growing up?”

The prickly ball of “I didn’t have that kind of childhood” that usually stayed sleeping deep under Avery’s ribs woke itself up. Foster homes weren’t full of warm fuzzy childhood memories. The urge to mutter “I didn’t have a mama like that—I didn’t have a mama at all” crawled to the surface with startling strength. Avery took a breath, swallowed hard and answered with a simple “No.”

“Me, neither.” Gabe didn’t sound eager for the new experience, either, despite the girls’ delighted faces.

“Well, then, lunch ought to be a barrel of fun.” Marlene clapped her hands together and headed back into the house for whatever preparations hot-dog octopuses required. Avery couldn’t imagine what those might be.

“Watcha got?” Dinah said to Gabe, her eyes on the big boxes under the tree.

“A surprise for you and your sister,” Gabe said. He started up the ranch porch stairs, clearly thinking that would settle the matter until after lunch, but he had no idea how wrong he was. At the mention of the word surprise, both girls launched on him with pokes and grabs and questions. Debbie grabbed his hand and practically dragged him over to the boxes.

At the mention of the word swings, the girls were all over him with squeals and hugs and even one squishy kiss on his elbow. It would have been totally charming if Gabe hadn’t been turning shades of red and looking as if he’d contracted the adult version of “cooties.”

Trying not to laugh at Gabriel Everett draped in tiny pinkness, Avery said, “What do you say, girls?”

A chorus of thank-yous erupted, complete with one girl clutching each of Gabe’s pant legs so tightly he couldn’t even walk. He stood there, enduring the outburst, with a face that was mostly long-suffering but not without a tiny sliver of amusement. “I hope it’s nice to be appreciated,” she offered.

He opened his mouth to say something, then simply shut it again, adjusting his hat, which had come askew in the assault of happiness.

“How about we go help Mrs. Frank with lunch and let Mr. Everett get some peace and quiet to settle in before we eat? I want to see these octopuses before I let you eat them.”

Dinah giggled. “They’re really hot dogs,” she whispered.

“I sure hope so,” Gabe said as he tenderly, but firmly, peeled each girl from his legs.

“Swings, Mama,” Debbie said with wide eyes as she gleefully peered into the box.

“I like swings,” Dinah agreed.

The happiness on the two girls’ faces caused a giant lump to form in Avery’s throat. Danny had always said he would put up swings but never did. Now, someone she barely knew was erecting swings just for Debbie and Dinah. Yes, it might be to gain her cooperation, but the weight of the gesture still touched her. I’ll buy the swings from him when we leave, she promised herself. I’ll pay someone to put them up in our backyard. Little girls ought to have swings.

Chapter Five (#udda3a390-468b-5857-9bb8-da36a273e3de)

Saturday morning, Avery stared at the group of boys who had gathered on Gabe’s front lawn to help put up the swings.

It was hard enough to see all those people gathered to do something just for her girls, but the boys themselves tugged at her heart in exactly the way she feared. It bothered her how she could see right into their hearts. That “I’m unwanted” look that lurked behind the eyes of every child in foster care, even on their happiest of days. Could other people see it? Or just those who, like her, had lived it?

“Morning, ma’am,” they said in coached tones, as if boys ranch foreman Flint Rawlings had rehearsed them to greet her with good manners.

“Good morning, boys. These are my daughters, Debbie and Dinah.” The girls waved, and the boys waved back, sort of. With a collection of boys between twelve and seventeen—near as she could guess—just a shuffle and a grunt was almost too much to hope for.

“Are you building our swings?” Dinah said, squinting up at one tall, lanky teen.

“They are,” Flint said, placing a large tool kit down with a thud beside the boxes Gabe had purchased yesterday. “We figured it was the least we could do seeing as to how you’ve agreed to stay until the celebration.”

She hadn’t actually agreed. She’d only agreed not to leave yet. No one seemed to recognize the distinction. The assumption—and now the swings—made her feel cornered, but she could never quite voice her growing concern. Maybe you could try just being grateful, she told herself as she forced a smile in the direction of the makeshift construction crew. Maybe it won’t be so bad to stay and find out what Grandpa Cyrus is up to.

“I’ll be back in two hours to pick ’em up,” Flint said as he peered at his watch. “That’ll be enough time?”

“I expect so,” Gabe replied as he pulled the assembly instructions from the larger of the two boxes. “Five sets of hands ought to be able to get it done in half the time.”

Avery settled down on the porch with the girls to watch the spectacle of the slowly rising swing set. She had two sets of paint colors and four other website addresses to send to another client to view products, as well as two estimates to send to potential customers, but it felt wrong not to at least watch since she couldn’t hope to help.

Not that the girls didn’t want to try. Avery was grateful for the porch rail to keep them corralled away from the sawing of beams and hammering of nails.

One of the older boys stopped and stared at her as he came back from using the ranch house washroom. “So you’re her? The r-real her?”