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“Good enough.” CJ opened the door, paused when Molly called out his name.
He turned back around. The hem of her lavender dress swung in soft waves around her ankles as she approached him. Her eyes, so blue, so beautiful, held the strength of her determination. In that moment, CJ felt a little less alone.
“I want you to know I’m not going anywhere.” She gave him a warm, kind smile that reached inside his heart and squeezed. “We’re in this together. We’ll take it one day at a time.”
She couldn’t know how much her support meant. As he stared into her startling blue eyes, CJ fought to contain thoughts of what might have been, were he a different man. But he couldn’t change who he was or where he came from.
“Thank you, Molly.”
“You’re welcome.”
She was so good, so pure, so beautiful. She deserved better than a Thorn. She’d had better. She’d married a preacher.
CJ could never measure up to a man of God. He wouldn’t even try. All he could do was work to make his ranch a success and ensure that the twins had a safe, stable home. One day at a time, as Molly said, he would provide a secure, loving home for his brother’s children. Who, according to Ned’s note, were now CJ’s.
He jammed his hat on his head. “I’ll see you later this afternoon.”
“The girls and I will be right here.”
For now, that was enough. He turned and walked out of the house. One day at a time, he told himself. With God’s help, CJ would face the future one day at a time.
Chapter Two (#u949ac752-5646-5e70-ab2d-e09288ba34a9)
Molly stood immobile in the doorway, unable to tear her gaze away from CJ as he strode toward the bunkhouse. She liked the way he moved, with that loose-limbed gait of a man comfortable in his own skin. He rode a horse with equal confidence.
As if sensing her eyes on him, he looked over his shoulder. Their gazes connected and, in that instant, time stopped. A silent message passed between them, something her heart understood but her head couldn’t quite grasp. She’d never felt this connected to CJ before.
With a sad, lopsided grin, he gave a tug on his hat, then disappeared inside the bunkhouse. For several long seconds, Molly stayed where she was, drawing in air, willing her racing heartbeat to settle.
She and CJ had a common purpose now, and were facing a shared task that went beyond helping out a friend, or assisting a brother in need. There were two young girls relying on them to work together.
Momentarily overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation, Molly pressed a hand to her throat. She ached from the inside out for the Thorn family, and that included Ned.
She understood what he suffered. She’d experienced her own pain after losing George. Where she’d focused on serving others to help her through her grief, Ned had concentrated solely on himself, to the detriment of his daughters.
Sarah and Anna were too young to understand why their father had taken off without saying goodbye. If Penelope were alive, she’d be devastated by her husband’s selfish behavior.
A ragged sigh worked its way past Molly’s lips. Ned hadn’t even bothered asking CJ if he would raise the girls in his stead. He’d simply assumed.
Well, CJ wouldn’t have to care for them alone. Molly would watch the girls for as long as he needed her. Eventually, he would want a more permanent solution.
Would he take a wife?
Molly’s heart filled with two distinct emotions, first with a spark of hope, then with unspeakable sorrow. As much as she cared about CJ, and thought they would suit, she could never marry him.
A rancher required a large family. Her father had said as much, claiming his life would have been easier if he’d had ten children instead of a measly five.
Molly would love the sort of large family John Carson claimed every rancher needed, but she was incapable of bearing children. CJ deserved a woman who could give him a houseful of sons and daughters.
Taking a bracing breath, Molly stepped back inside the house and shut the door behind her. Deciding to let the girls sleep a bit longer, she entered the kitchen and went quickly to work on their breakfast. She hummed her favorite hymn, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” as she plucked three eggs out of the basket.
She’d barely pulled a clean bowl from the cupboard when a small, sleepy voice asked, “Is Pa going to eat breakfast with us?”
The question came from Sarah, the more outspoken of the twins. Even as she set aside the eggs, Molly couldn’t help noticing that the child’s first concern was for her father.
Taking a moment to think, she smiled down at the girls. Her heart gave a hard tug at the sight they made standing shoulder to shoulder in their plain white nightgowns, just inside the kitchen. Their green eyes were droopy from sleep, their baby-fine, dark brown hair pleasantly mussed.
How could Ned leave them in this house all alone, with only a hastily written note of explanation?
“It’ll just be the three of us this morning.” She filled her voice with what she hoped was a carefree inflection.
“What about Unca Corny? Maybe he could eat with us?”
Molly’s breath clogged in her throat. The girls were sweet and adorable, especially when they called CJ “Unca Corny,” their version of Uncle Cornelius. She had no idea if he liked the name, but he never corrected them, at least not in front of Molly.
“Your uncle needed to get an early start, so he’s eating in the bunkhouse with the ranch hands.”
“But...but...” Sarah’s lower lip jutted out. “I like it when Unca Corny comes over to the big house and eats with us.”
“He tells us funny stories.” The more timid of the two, Anna, stood so close to her sister she was nearly on top of her. “He makes me laugh.”
“Me, too.” Sarah grinned. “I like Unca Corny almost as much as I like Pa.”
Molly’s heart gave another hard tug. The girls would have to be told something about Ned. She was trying to decide how much to reveal when Sarah came to stand beside her. “I heard Pa leave when it was still dark outside. He stumbled over a chair and said a naughty word.”
Molly tried not to show any outward reaction to this disturbing piece of information. Inwardly, she sighed. “I’m sure whatever your father said, he didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, he meant it.” Anna drew alongside her sister. Her expression was grave and her eyes were huge in her small face. “Pa said the word before. And he got real mad when Unca Corny told him not to because it’s a bad word.”
Molly gave another inward sigh. Ned wasn’t a terrible man. He was simply drowning in grief and clearly oblivious to the harm his behavior generated in this house.
“Miss Molly?” Sarah moved slightly in front of her sister. “When is Pa coming home?”
“Oh, sweetie.” Eyes stinging, throat tight, Molly dropped to her knees and pulled both girls close. “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“You think he’ll be gone long?”
“Possibly.” By their hurt expressions, it was obvious neither child understood their father’s sudden absence. And Molly wasn’t doing a very good job covering for him. She wasn’t even sure she should try.
A huge crack split across her heart and she thought it might break in two. The twins were such sweet children. She loved them with the heart of a mother. How could Ned have left them without even saying goodbye?
In his note, he’d claimed that the girls reminded him too much of Penelope. There had been more in his note, hints at other reasons, but the part about his daughters resembling his wife had stuck out for Molly. It was true that the twins favored their mother, but they had a lot of Ned in them, as well.
“Your father might have left home for a while.” She chose her words carefully, silently praying to the Lord for guidance. “But I know he loves you very much.”
Sarah’s expression turned serious. “We love him, too.”
Anna nodded feverishly.
Sighing, Molly stood, reached for their hands. “Let’s get you some breakfast and then we’ll—”
The door swung open and in stormed an angry range cook, sputtering and mumbling incoherent words under his breath.
“Where’s the note?” Cookie demanded. “I want to see it.”
Releasing the girls’ hands, Molly moved quickly toward the grizzled old man glaring at her from the doorway. With a full head of white hair that stuck out from every angle, and a girth as wide as he was tall, Lawrence Robbins—“Cookie” to everyone who knew him—looked as furious as he sounded.
But he was more bark than bite, and Molly wasn’t intimidated in the least. She was, however, determined to keep him from saying something inappropriate in front of the twins.
“Good morning to you, too, Cookie. The girls and I were just about to sit down to breakfast.” She looked pointedly at the children in an attempt to remind him to monitor his speech.
Moving deeper into the house, he parked two beefy paws on his sizable hips. “Ned’s really done it this time. That good-for-nothing, worthless excuse of a—”
“The children,” Molly growled, placing a hand on his shoulder, “are standing right here.”
As if her words finally registered, Cookie’s cheeks turned a bright red. “Oh, right. I, uh...” He started backing toward the door as fast as his pudgy feet could carry him. “I’ll come back another time.”
“I’d rather you stay a moment.” She could use an ally. For all his blustering and uncensored opinion giving, Cookie was trustworthy, loyal and loved the twins with the devotion of a kindly grandfather. “The note is on the table beside the sofa.”
He picked up the piece of paper and scanned the words in silence. When he looked up again, his expression was even more furious than before. But then he glanced over at the girls and his stern features melted into a look of compassion. “Poor little things.”
Molly’s sentiments exactly.
“I’ll stick close to the house all day. You need anything, anything at all, you just ring the bell and I’ll come running.”
“Thank you, Cookie.”
Eyes luminous with sympathy, he ruffled Sarah’s hair, then Anna’s, then headed for the door. By the time it shut behind him, Molly had the girls seated at the table and the eggs frying in the skillet.
She might not be able to bring either of their parents back, but she could feed Sarah and Anna a satisfying breakfast. For as long as she had the honor, she would care for the twins to the best of her ability and love them with her whole heart.
The rest she would leave up to the Lord.
* * *
CJ returned to the ranch later that afternoon bone-tired from a full day on the range. The cattle, more than five hundred of them, had been successfully moved to the north pasture, where they would fill their bellies with fresh grass. Getting them to their new grazing area had been hot, dirty work.
Ordinarily, he would be pleased with all he and his men had managed to get done in a single day. But Ned’s absence had been felt. CJ was short on manpower, and he could have used his brother’s help moving the herd.
Mouth set in a grim line, CJ pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes. His three ranch hands dismounted ahead of him and guided their horses into the barn. He followed them at a slower pace, his gaze roaming over his domain.
Most days, he was proud of all he’d accomplished. With the guidance of his neighbor, Edmund McKay, CJ had learned solid ranching skills and had been able to turn his struggling spread into a modest success.
Now, he considered the cost of that single-minded focus. Perhaps if he’d tried harder to understand the extent of Ned’s grief, CJ could have saved his brother.
Too late, a small voice whispered inside his head.
Frowning, CJ led Scout into the barn, removed the horse’s tack, then picked up a brush off the shelf where hoof picks, files and clippers were neatly organized. He began making slow sweeps across the horse’s back.
What could he have done differently with Ned?
CJ had known his brother was tipping back the bottle. Every time he tried to talk to him, Ned would promise there wasn’t anything to worry about. He always stopped at one drink. The fact that Ned’s drinking never interfered with his duties on the ranch had been enough for CJ to believe the claim. Until recently.
Ned’s behavior had become more sporadic in the past two weeks. CJ had been worried enough to confront him. But his brother had refused to admit there was a problem.
Like father like son.
Letting out a hiss of frustration, CJ moved to the other side of the horse and resumed grooming the animal. He’d been hoping, even praying, that something would happen to make Ned realize his drinking was getting out of hand.
Ned must have finally admitted the truth to himself. His solution was to abandon his family. Of all the routes his brother could have taken, CJ had not expected that one.
Was it his fault Ned left? Had he run off his own brother?
Whatever the reason, he’d failed Ned. That was irrefutable. Despite evidence to the contrary, CJ worried that the same weak character in his father—and now his brother—lurked inside him, as well. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t tried very hard to find a wife.
CJ wasn’t convinced he’d make a good husband. He’d recently turned to Edmund McKay with his fears. His friend had asked him a simple question: “You ever tempted to drown your sorrows in a bottle?”
His response had been immediate. He’d never once felt the urge. Still, he was a Thorn. All Thorn men eventually broke. And CJ had never really been tested. When that day came, would he discover the same lack of character?
Anna and Sarah deserved a father who would protect them and keep them safe. What did CJ know about raising little girls?
With more force than necessary, he tossed the brush back on the shelf, then concentrated on picking pebbles and other debris from Scout’s hooves. After he led the horse into his stall and gave him fresh hay, he felt calmer.
But then Cookie met him at the barn door and wasted no time with pleasantries. “I read the note Ned left.”
CJ pulled in a tight breath, pounded a fist against his thigh. “I think he really means to stay gone.”
“This ain’t your fault, CJ.” Cookie placed a hand on his shoulder in a fatherly gesture. “You did all you could.”
“Did I?”
“Your brother made his choice. If he doesn’t want to be here, then I say it’s a good thing he left.”
CJ couldn’t bring himself to agree. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up on his brother. Like the prodigal son, Ned could still mend his ways and come home a changed man. For the twins’ sake, CJ prayed that was exactly what occurred. Soon.
Anna and Sarah had already suffered enough. CJ would do everything in his power to provide a good life for the twins. He would give them a safe, happy home. No sacrifice would be too great. He might have failed Ned. He would not fail the girls.
He would rise above the Thorn legacy.
At the bunkhouse, he and Cookie parted ways. CJ washed off the trail dust before entering the main house. Little-girl squeals of delight met his arrival.
“Pa! Pa, you’re home.”
The children rushed to greet their father. When they realized it was CJ standing on the threshold instead of Ned, their footsteps ground to a halt.
Sarah’s face scrunched into a frown. “You’re not Pa.”
The disappointment in her voice was mirrored in her sister’s downcast expression. CJ’s heart took a quick, extra thump. He’d never felt more inadequate in his life. “Your pa won’t be home tonight.”
