The Rancher's Texas Twins

Chapter Two

Following a mountain of exasperating Lone Star Cowboy League business, Gabe came home that Monday afternoon to find Marlene and Jethro Frank cleaning a batch of old toys. Even the squeal of joy Marlene had given over the phone hadn’t prepared him for just how much the older couple was going to enjoy this spontaneous setup. As he cut the ignition on his truck, Gabe couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking at his last quiet evening on the ranch for a while.

“Evening, Gabriel,” Jethro called from over a bucket of sudsy water. “Just getting things ready.”

Gabe looked to his left to see child-sized pastel sheets hanging on the line. “You had all this?”

“A few calls around church was all it took,” Marlene said with a smile. She chuckled as she handed a bright green doll carriage to Jethro. “Little girls! And twins at that!”

Jethro shot Gabe just a hint of a “you sure you know what you’re doing?” glance, one gray eyebrow raised as he plunged a sponge into the soapy water.

Gabe had no idea what he was doing. He’d been asking himself all afternoon what on earth had made him offer to house Avery and the twins. He didn’t especially like children—but he liked failing a whole town even less.

It wasn’t as if life hadn’t complicated itself tenfold in the past few months. Cyrus’s will was forcing him to hunt down Theodore Linley, his maternal grandfather—someone Gabe never wanted to see again. Worse yet, Linley clearly didn’t want to be found. No one else in Haven had been able to locate him, and even the private investigators hired to find the man had failed.

Cyrus Culpepper’s set of demands was beginning to look more impossible with each passing day.

Desperation, he decided. That’s what made him do it. The desperation he felt to save the boys ranch from losing the larger facilities it so dearly needed.

If necessity was the mother of invention, it seemed desperation was the father of foolishness.

“Supper’s in the slow cooker,” Marlene called as Gabe pulled his briefcase from the truck. His stomach growled at the mention of supper—Gabe hadn’t had time to eat lunch today. He’d spent the time after seeing Avery in an endless stream of appointments for his role as president of the Lone Star Cowboy League’s Waco chapter. The civic organization did important work supporting area ranchers, but lately it seemed the league devoured all his time. Gabe was a highly organized and precise man, and the length of his list of undone tasks was making him nuts. “We’ll eat in thirty minutes,” Marlene advised. “We’ve got enough for Harley, if you want to fetch him over.”

Harley Jones was an old ranch hand who had been here since Gabe’s stepfather owned the ranch. Gabe could never bear to put him off the property, even though the man had long outlived his usefulness.

Much as he liked Harley, Gabe was too tired and hungry for extra faces around the table tonight. In fact, if he thought Marlene would let him get away with it, he’d prefer to spend the evening eating at his desk, working through the pile of emails and other documents that still needed tending today. “Put some in the freezer and I’ll drop a pot of leftovers over on Friday.” Gabe grinned at his cleverness—it might serve him good to pile up a bunch of reasons to visit Harley and escape the house once those girls descended.

Marlene cooed at a doll she had plucked from a box. “Your mail’s on your desk.”

“Thanks. Did you manage to make it out for extra groceries?” he asked as he walked up his ranch house’s wide front porch. The house was expansive—“too large for one man alone” Marlene never stopped saying. He would always point out that he wasn’t alone—he had her and Jethro—but she would just scowl and give him a “you know what I mean” motherly glare.

On his worse days, Gabe called her Meddling Marlene. On his better days, he tolerated her attempts to fix up his life as well as his house with a begrudging affection. Much as he preferred solitude, the Franks were good company. Big-hearted people, faithful, loyal and kind. What would the state of that beloved solitude be after the three weeks he needed Avery to stay? Shredded, no doubt, but the boys ranch was worth the price.

“We stocked up at the store,” Jethro informed him. “Marlene’s baked cookies already.”

Gabe’s stomach paid attention to those words. “Cookies?”

“Gingerbread,” Marlene said. “You don’t want something too sugary with little ones in the house.”

Marlene had better be more worried about her cookie jar being raided by the big guy in the house. “Better hide those cookies,” Gabe teased as he pulled open the door. “I’ve always liked gingerbread.”

“I knew that,” Marlene declared. “Why do you think I made a double batch? No sneaking till after supper, Gabriel.”

Gabe laughed, but detoured through the kitchen to what he knew to be Marlene’s hiding spot. He grabbed half a dozen of the delicious-smelling goodies before dragging himself to his desk. Only a fool would attack the mail on an empty stomach, he justified.

On top of his far-too-tall stack of mail was a hand-addressed envelope from Mike Tower. Gabe smiled as he broke the seal to open an invitation to Mike’s thirty-fifth birthday party in Houston.

That’s why I’m doing this. Mike had been a best friend during Gabe’s years at the boys ranch. They’d both had tough starts in life, but turned out fine. Gabe ran a prosperous ranch and was president of the Lone Star Cowboy League. Mike ran one of Houston’s top law firms. The boys ranch turned lives around and deserved to expand. If he had to suffer a pair of little girls for three weeks—three weeks! He surely hadn’t thought this through carefully—to ensure that the ranch could continue its good work, he could ride it out.

He started to fill out the reply card, then changed his mind and picked up the phone. The mountain of mail could wait another five minutes.

“Howdy there, Gabe!” The sound of a squalling baby filled the air behind Mike’s distinctive drawl.

“Caught you at a bad time, did I?”

“It’s Terri’s night out with the girls. Me and Mikey are just a couple of happy bachelors tonight.”

Gabe winced at the weariness that tugged at the corners of Mike’s joke. “One of you fellas doesn’t sound too happy.”

“Teething,” moaned the new father. “I’ll never take a set of pearly whites for granted ever again. My little buckaroo’s been miserable for days, and he’s taken Terri right down with him. She needed to get out of Dodge tonight, that’s for sure, and I’m coming to realize why.” As if to underscore Mike’s point, Mikey let out an enthusiastic howl.

Gabe tried to imagine the halls of Five Rocks Ranch reverberating with a pair of such howls. Just the five minutes of crying on Roz’s porch had set his nerves on edge. Four-year-olds didn’t cry as much as babies, did they? “I guess I should let you go, then.”

“No, please,” Mike begged above the wailing, “I need the human contact.”

“Aren’t lawyers humans?” Gabe replied with a laugh.

“Only barely. One of my cases has the staff in fits, so work isn’t as much fun as usual. Speaking of fun, how are those investigators working out? My or Phillips’s guys turned up anything on your grandfather yet?” Mike had added the best private investigators he knew to a set hired by local attorney Fletcher Snowden Phillips. All in an effort to find Theodore. All without success. After today’s complication, Gabe had a few choice words for the late Cyrus and his preposterous demands.

Gabe tossed his hat onto the bentwood coatrack that stood in the corner of his office. “Nothing past the jail term we knew about before. Honestly, Mike, it’s like the guy disappeared into thin air. I hate having to hunt him down. The only good side to finding him is that I can finally give him a piece of my mind. What man gives his daughter the slip like that? Leaving Mom and me to scrape by in the world?”

Gabe tamped down the burn of resentment that rose too easily these days and eased himself into the big leather chair behind his desk. Right now he could see exactly why Avery might want to put Cyrus and all of Haven behind her. Not much in life stung worse than being abandoned by the family that was supposed to love and care for you.

He heard Mike’s sigh above the baby’s noisy cries. “Think of it this way. That’s what makes the boys ranch so important. A boy can go so wrong so fast when he’s ignored or abandoned.”

“True, counselor.” Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose and reached for a cookie.

“And that’s why you’ve got to find him,” Mike said. “It’s up to you to ensure the boys ranch won’t lose the chance to expand. That place can’t be sold to a strip mall and half those kids sent elsewhere. You and I both know that.”

“I know, I know. And I’ve gone to extremes, Mike, believe me.”

“How so?”

“I invited the real Avery and her girls to stay here since Roz Sackett was fixing to kick them out of the boardinghouse on account of their ‘rambunctiousness.’”

“You what?” Mike was understandably shocked at a move so far out of character for Gabe.

“You remember Roz Sackett.”

“I remember she can be mean.”

“Mean enough to hand Avery a reason to head back to Tennessee and keep us from our goal. Who boots out a single mom with a pair of four-year-olds?”

“Wait a minute,” Mike said, nearly laughing. “You mean to tell me you invited children to stay at your house? Just how pretty is this single mama?”

Avery Culpepper was pretty, but that didn’t have anything to do with it. Even the prettiest mom, if she came with kids in tow, wasn’t for him. Gabe was many things, but a family man hadn’t ever been one of them. He’d stayed a bachelor all his years by choice, thank you. “I had to keep her from heading out of town, Mike. She’s got to stay for the seventieth anniversary party—you know it’s one of Cyrus’s cockamamy demands. I was fresh out of options.”

“I’ll say. Boy howdy, I’d like to see you with a pair of little girls pulling on your pant legs. Sounds entertaining.”

“About as entertaining as that opera singer you got there,” Gabe joked back. Every minute Mikey kept up the crying dug a deeper hole of doubt regarding what he’d just done in offering his own home. Little girls. What had come over him?

“You coming to my party?” Mike asked. “I mean, if you live that long?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Gabe growled, thinking it would have been far smarter to just fill out the reply card.

“Good,” Mike replied. “Say, when do the kiddos move in?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

Mike laughed. “I’ll call you Thursday and see if you’re still standing. Let me know if my guys find your grandpappy. Sure would be nice if this whole circus actually worked out, but then again, this is Cyrus we’re talking about. Anything could happen.”

“Don’t I know it. Cowboy up and get through the night watch, okay? I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t you worry about me,” Mike responded with a weary laugh. “I’m not the one about to be surrounded by females.”

Gabe ended the call with the sinking feeling that Mike was all too right.

* * *

“This place is huge.” Avery stared down the long hallway that led to the pair of rooms she and the girls would occupy. They had their own wing, which was practically the size of their house in Tennessee. Back at the boardinghouse, they’d been all stuffed into one room with a bathroom down the hall. Avery felt like she hadn’t had the space to take a deep breath since she came to town.

Marlene, Gabe’s wonderfully friendly housekeeper, put an encouraging hand on Avery’s shoulder. “We’ve definitely got room to spare, honey. I’m so glad you took Gabriel up on his offer.” The woman was a natural-born grandmother if ever there was one. The girls had taken to her and her husband, Jethro, instantly. Of course, the freshly baked gingerbread cookies may have had a great deal to do with that, but right now she didn’t care. This place felt miles better than where they had been, and Marlene felt like desperately needed support.

Debbie raced past them, nearly knocking the housekeeper over as she catapulted into the room and flung herself onto one of the two small beds. In seconds Dinah was right behind her, flopping with a squeal onto the bright pink gingham sheets that topped each bed.

“Everything’s so pink, Mama!” Dinah called, arms and legs flailing in little girl delight.

Marlene chuckled. “What little girl doesn’t love pink?” She gave Avery a knowing look. “You’ve got your hands full, bless your heart.”

If I had a dime for every time I heard that, Avery thought. She did hear it all the time. Everyone always said it back in Tennessee, but folks rarely lent a hand to help with the twins. Avery sighed. “I do indeed. I’m sorry for the racket.”

“Don’t you be one bit sorry. Five Rocks is a big and beautiful place, but I’ve always found it far too quiet. Oh, I know Gabriel says he likes his peace and order, but I think it’ll be nice to have some happy noise around for a change,” Marlene said as she walked into the room. “Now,” she said, pointing to one girl, “are you Dinah or are you Debbie? I’m gonna have trouble keeping you two straight.”

Any version of the “who’s who?” game sent Debbie into peals of laughter. “I’m Debbie,” she said, rolling over to grin at Marlene and point at her dark hair.

“Well, I’m glad for that hair,” Marlene said as she eased herself onto Debbie’s bed. “I need all the hints I can get. Tell me, Debbie, are you ready for lunch? I have bologna sandwiches cut out into heart shapes with carrots and sweet, juicy peaches.”

“Dinah’s a notoriously picky eater,” Avery offered from the doorway, hoping to spare dear Mrs. Frank one of Dinah’s all-too-frequent mealtime tantrums.

“Oh, that don’t scare me none. I raised three sons and five grandchildren. I’ve seen it all.” She winked at Avery. “This grandma’s got a few tricks up her sleeve.”

Avery couldn’t help herself. “Use any on Gabe?”

Marlene gave a hearty laugh. “Don’t tell. It works best if we let him think he’s in charge.”

“That’s because I am.” Gabe’s voice came from the hallway behind Avery. His dark eyebrows furrowed down over the man’s astonishingly blue eyes as he peered into the room. “Where’d all this come from?”

“Rhetta’s twins outgrew their beds last year. Jethro went over and borrowed them early this morning.”

“It’s a whole lot of princess pink!” Dinah called with glee.

“I’ll say,” Gabe said, wincing. “My teeth hurt just looking at it.”

“Girls, you should say thank you to...” Avery stopped, realizing she wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence. “What do you want them to call you?”

It seemed like a land mine of a question. Gabriel Everett was an imposing figure of a man. Tall and dark-haired with strong, solid features, he certainly wasn’t the “Uncle Gabe” type. Not even “Mr. Gabe.” Still, Mr. Everett sounded like a mouthful for a four-year-old.

“Do they have to call me anything?” Gabe seemed to find the question just as daunting.

“Well, of course they do,” Marlene said.

Gabe gave a bit of a twitch, as if he’d just realized housing the girls was going to mean he’d have to actually talk to them on occasion. Avery would have classified his behavior yesterday as an awkward tolerance—or perhaps it was more of a cornered surrender, now that she thought about it. The discomfort seemed to grow larger as Gabe scratched his chin and considered how the girls should address him. “Mr. Everett?” he offered halfheartedly, as if he couldn’t come up with anything better.

Avery was afraid he’d say that. She really didn’t think she could refuse, so she was especially glad when Marlene countered, “Don’t you think that’s a bit formal for someone their age?” The housekeeper shot a disapproving look Gabe’s way.

Avery was wracking her brains for a suitable moniker when Debbie bounced off the bed and walked right up to Gabe with the air of a woman in possession of the solution. “Boots,” she declared, pointing to Gabe’s large brown cowboy boots.

Gabe looked around, waiting for someone to pronounce what a bad idea that was.

“You can be Mr. Boots!” Debbie said again, this time squatting down to pat her hand up against the dusty leather.

Dinah, not to be outdone, slid off her bed and began to chant “Mr. Boots” while pointing at Gabe’s other leg. Poor Gabe, he’d been christened against his will now; once the girls latched on to something like this, they rarely let go.

“Could have been worse,” Marlene offered with a grin that broadcast just how much she was enjoying this. “They might have picked ‘Mr. Scowl.’”

Avery felt like she had to at least try. “Don’t you think you girls could learn to say ‘Mr. Everett’?”

In reply, the girls only chanted “Mr. Boots!” louder.

“Um, I’ll try to keep that down to a minimum,” she said above the noise as the girls began to circle around Gabe’s legs like little pink cats, patting Gabe’s boots while he stood there in mild shock and not-so-mild annoyance.

Avery was composing a suitable apology when Gabe just seemed to shrug and resign himself to the new nickname. “I’ve been called worse.”

The man was huge and intimidating—she didn’t doubt he’d been called a great deal of things. Only right now, she called him her host, and that deserved whatever kindness she could provide. “If it helps, I promise I’ll never use it.” It seemed slim consolation to a man whose spare bedroom had just been transformed into a tidal wave of pink gingham.

Gabe stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’d be much obliged for that.”

“Well, I’m making no such promises,” Marlene offered with a wink and a grin. “I rather like ‘Mr. Boots.’”

Gabe gave her a dark look and carefully extracted his long legs from the girls’ endless circles. “I’ve got to return a couple of calls, ladies. Marlene, how long before lunch?”

“We were just discussing lunch now. It’ll be ready in twenty minutes. So no cookies.” Marlene slanted a sideways glance at Avery. “That man always sneaks food into his office.”

“Too late!” Gabe called, and Avery caught sight of the man producing a stack of cookies from his shirt pocket and waving them in the air like a schoolboy who’d just gotten away with a prank. Clearly, Marlene and Gabe one-upped each other on a continual basis.

Such behavior didn’t fit the domineering, driven Gabriel Everett she’d met on her first day in Haven. That man was bent on getting what he needed, pressing for her compliance, pushing hard for whatever it took to secure the boys ranch. His own ranch was huge and clearly prosperous—those sorts of businessmen didn’t sneak cookies or open their homes to little girls.

Of course, Gabe Everett had opened his home because he needed something from her—she knew that. He hosted to keep her from leaving because he needed her here for the celebration. Cyrus’s will stipulated that she, as well as the three other original residents of the Lone Star Cowboy League Boys Ranch, had to be present on March 20. If not, the property left to the ranch would be sold to a strip mall, which would send half the ranch’s current residents elsewhere. Well, she told herself as she led Dinah and Debbie to the bathroom to wash up for lunch, if I’m going to be stuck between a rock and a hard place, at least the hard place is looking nicer every minute.

Chapter Three

“I hate him, you know.”

Gabe looked at Avery later that evening as she stood on the porch watching the stars come out. Jethro had taken the girls inside to read them one of his cowboy stories—Jethro had written down stories for as long as Gabe could remember, and was taking full advantage of his tiny new audience. The quiet of the falling dusk was as thick as a blanket after the commotion of moving-in day. Gabe felt like he could exhale for the first time since that wild meeting on Roz’s porch.

“Who?” Gabe replied. He had a notion who she meant, since she’d just refused a tour of the ranch—her grandfather’s home—but felt he ought to ask anyway.

“Grandpa Cyrus. Well, Cyrus Culpepper to all of you. Even before I knew who he was, I hated him.”

Between the imposter Avery and the real Avery, Gabe was having trouble keeping his Cyrus stories straight. “I thought you never knew Cyrus.” Of course, Gabe knew knowing didn’t really come into a situation like this—he, of all people, knew how easy it was to hate someone you’d barely known. In fact, it was almost easier to hate the idea of someone than to hate an actual person. He resented his own grandfather deeply for abandoning him at a young age; it wasn’t hard to believe Avery felt the same.

“Daddy would always say that if things went bad, Grandpa would come and save us. ‘Grandpa will do this’ and ‘Grandpa will do that.’” She turned to look at Gabe, pain filling her eyes. “I know I was only six, but I remember the promises. And I waited. After Daddy died, I waited in one foster home after another. Only Grandpa never came. Never. That man never did a single thing to help me.” Her words were sharp and bitter.

“You’re sure? I mean, he could have been trying.” Gabe remembered harboring the silly hope that somehow his own grandfather had tried valiantly to get in touch with Mom. He made up all kinds of reasons how their many moves had stumped Grandpa Theo’s efforts. After a while, the hard truth of his abandonment won out over the optimism of such stories. Gabe knew what a hollow space that left.

Avery turned to look at him. “That’d make a nice story, wouldn’t it? Only no. The foster service tried multiple times to find him and reach him. They had contact information for him. No one ever answered.” She hugged herself, shoulders bunching up. A sore point to be sure, and who could blame her?

“That must have been hard,” Gabe offered.

She didn’t answer, simply nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he tried again, even though it felt intrusive and inadequate. Gabe was all too familiar with how rejection brewed a slow, sour kind of pain, one that was deep and hard to shake. “I think maybe Cyrus regretted it in the end, if that helps.”

She gave a lifeless laugh. “It doesn’t.”

Gabe walked over beside her, putting one boot up on the lower rung of the porch rail. It made him think of the chorus of “Mr. Boots!” he’d heard all afternoon, and he felt the surprise of a smile curl up the corners of his mouth. “It’s why the boys ranch is so important, you know.”

“The bumper crop of lousy parents in the world?”

It was becoming clear that Avery Culpepper rarely minced words. In that way, she was a lot like her grandfather—not that he’d be foolish enough to point that out at the moment. “Sure, some parents are lousy,” Gabe replied. “Some are just gone. And some just plain don’t have it in them. More helpless than mean.”

“No one has the right to abandon a child. I’d bleed to the last drop before I’d walk away from my girls.” She didn’t say “like their father did,” but Gabe felt it hang in the air just the same.

“That’s the way it should be. Only it doesn’t always happen that way, does it? The kids at the ranch did nothing wrong—well, some of them have acted out in bad ways, but you know what I mean. They didn’t set their lives up badly, but things haven’t worked out for them just the same. And that’s not fair.”

“I suppose not. I never felt much of life was fair, to tell you the truth.”

“It isn’t. That’s what keeps me working for the boys ranch. Every boy we house and counsel is one less man who grows up hauling a ball of hate around.” Even as he spoke the words, Gabe wondered if he really believed them. After all, he’d been a resident at the ranch some twenty-odd years ago, and the ball of hate was still following him around like a lead shadow.

Avery leaned up against the thick porch column, her arms still wrapped around her chest. “I didn’t ask to be the only thing saving the Culpepper land from becoming a strip mall. I can’t say for certain that I can stay all the way until the twentieth.”