Stand-In Rancher Daddy

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Proving she was a mother first and foremost, instant tears sprang into Lula May’s eyes. “Oh, those poor, dear little girls.”

Molly nodded, her gaze automatically returning to the twins. They seemed to be having fun, but she couldn’t help but notice that they were more subdued than usual. “CJ is doing his best to fill the void their father left.”

“I’m sure he is.” Lula May couldn’t keep the obvious distress out of her voice. “It must be difficult for him, though, having to step in to the role without time to prepare.”

“Ned’s only been gone three days.” Molly spoke the words in a near whisper. “There’s still hope he’ll return.”

“There’s always room for hope.”

Yes, Molly thought, there was. With God all things were possible.

The sweet sound of giggling had Molly once again watching the girls at play. Sarah tucked her tongue between her teeth, tossed the small red ball in the air and then gathered up a handful of jacks.

Molly’s smile came quickly, then faded as she thought of Penelope and all she would miss in her daughters’ lives. “Death is so final,” she whispered.

“Yes, it is.” Lula May glanced out into the distance, seemingly lost in thought, or perhaps in memories. Molly knew she had been a mail-order bride. Yet from all accounts, and despite a rather sizable age difference, her friend’s marriage to Frank Barlow had been a good one. Certainly fruitful.

Lula May had been Frank’s second wife and had taken over mothering his sons, Calvin and Samuel, loving them as if they were her own. She’d given birth to three more children, two boys and a girl. Despite the death of her husband, or perhaps because of it, Molly’s friend had created a large, happy family for herself and her children.

Family. There was that word again. A vague sense of wistfulness spread in Molly. Why, Lord? Why did You punish me with a barren womb?

Lula May took her hand again and, as if attempting to lighten the mood for them both, changed the subject to something innocuous. “Will you be attending the quilting bee this week?”

The question took Molly by surprise. “Of course I’ll be there.”

She never missed the quilting bee and not simply because they met at the Rolling Hills ranch. Molly liked sewing, as did all the women in her family. Years ago, Helen Carson had turned an empty room off the kitchen into a permanent quilting room. The women, eight of them counting her mother, met weekly, weather permitting. As they sewed, they shared family news, discussed recipes and addressed various community concerns.

“I assume the twins will be with you?”

“That would be correct.” Molly always fetched Anna and Sarah. It never occurred to her to do otherwise. She’d taken them into her heart, and her life, long before Ned had left town.

In truth, his departure changed very little in Molly’s day-to-day existence. CJ and the twins were the ones having to make adjustments, CJ even more than the girls.

Unable to stop herself, Molly searched out his tall, lean form. He and Edmund McKay had moved away from the ice cream table and were now playing a game of horseshoes. They appeared to be in a serious conversation.

Was CJ telling his friend about Ned?

Possibly.

Probably.

Molly was glad he had someone to talk to about his situation. He surely hadn’t opened up to her and that made her unspeakably sad. She wanted to be more to CJ than simply the neighbor woman who cared for his nieces while he ran the ranch. She wanted to be his friend, his companion and confidant, the woman he turned to in good times and bad.

Quite simply, she wanted what could never be.

Of course, it was early days yet. Perhaps she and CJ could be friends, at least. He simply had to learn he could trust her with more than the cooking and cleaning of his house. Perhaps he would eventually come to think of her as a friend.

What if he never did?

Molly suddenly felt very alone, though she was surrounded by nearly half the town and was conversing with a dear friend.

In the deep recesses of her mind, for what must be the hundredth time, she admitted the truth to herself. She wanted someone special in her life again. She wanted a man—a husband—who would listen to her darkest secrets without judgment and calm her fears, someone who would look past her failings as a woman and love her anyway. Want her, anyway.

Her chance for that sort of happiness had come and gone with George. She was no longer naive enough to think she had much to offer a man. Unless God intervened, or something dramatically changed, the best Molly could hope for was to spend the rest of her life caring for another woman’s children.

A humbling and deeply depressing thought.

* * *

CJ’s attempt at playing horseshoes was halfhearted at best. His mind refused to focus on the game. Residual stress from the twins’ breakdown had his skin feeling hot and prickly, as if he were coming down with a fever. Sweat trickled a wet, uncomfortable trail between his shoulder blades.

He was fully aware people were watching him, discussing him and his family. His brother. CJ wasn’t fool enough to misunderstand the hushed whispers and darting looks. Thanks to Mrs. Hickey’s nosy interference in matters that weren’t her concern, all of Little Horn, Texas, knew Ned had taken off. CJ could feel their judgment.

The pretense was officially over.

He couldn’t keep living in a state of indecision tempered with hope. He had to think in terms of next steps. He was in charge of raising his nieces in his brother’s stead. Drawing in a tight breath, he glanced up, thought about praying, but got distracted by puffs of silky white clouds in constant motion against the blue-blue sky above.

“You gonna take your turn or give up and forfeit the game to my superior skill?”

Rolling his shoulders at his friend’s jab, CJ lowered his head and threw the horseshoe toward a stake some fifty feet away. The clatter of metal hitting metal rang out.

“Nicely done.” Edmund nudged him aside and lined up his next shot.

While he took a few practice swings, CJ found himself glancing in Molly’s direction. The sun seemed to wrap its golden arms around her small, petite frame. What a picture she made in the bright midday light. CJ couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Clank.

“Your turn.”

Dragging his gaze free, CJ sent another horseshoe in the general vicinity of the previous one he’d thrown. This time, he missed the post by two full feet.

Edmund laughed, then slapped him on the back in commiseration. “You’re distracted this afternoon. Can’t say I blame you.”

CJ gave his friend a sidelong glance. He’d already told Edmund about Ned’s departure. He might as well share the rest. “I keep wondering if my brother will come home soon. But I fear that’s nothing but wishful thinking on my part.”

“You seem certain.” Edmund bounced the horseshoe from hand to hand. “Is there something about Ned’s leaving town you’re not telling me?”

CJ reached in his pocket, pulled out Ned’s note and passed it to his friend.

The other man gave the page a cursory scan. “There’s not much here.”

“Keep reading.”

He turned the paper over, blew out a harsh, angry hiss. “He gave you custody of the twins? Is that why you think he’s not coming back?”

CJ nodded, then went on to explain how he’d come to that conclusion. “Ned hated it when our father went on benders.” CJ closed his eyes, remembering those terrible days and wanting desperately to forget. “He admitted to secretly wishing that our pa would have left home when we were younger. He claimed having no father was better than having one who was a drunk.”