Stand-In Rancher Daddy

With an impatient shove, she secured the final pin in her hair and stepped away from the mirror. Dressed and ready for Sunday service, she moved to the window and stared out across the front yard of her family’s ranch. The sun had already risen, splashing golden fingers of light across the pink-tinted sky.

She should be atop Sadie’s back by now, heading over to the Triple-T to help CJ with the girls. He’d insisted she spend the Sabbath with her own family. No amount of arguing had swayed him. He was one stubborn, thoughtful, kind man.

Sighing, she placed her palm against the warm glass. She wished CJ would talk to her about Ned. Molly knew he suffered. She often caught the secret pain in his eyes, when he didn’t know she was looking. He clearly blamed himself.

Even without saying the words aloud, they both knew Ned’s leaving could very well be permanent. Awarding CJ custody of the twins made his intentions clear. Molly had no idea if a hand-scribbled note was the same as a legal document. But Ned’s actions had a feeling of finality to them.

It had been only three days, she told herself. There was still reason to hope. No matter how sad he appeared on the outside, Ned always pulled himself together enough to attend Sunday worship with his daughters. Maybe he would return today.

Ned had his faults, but even at the worst of times he’d been a committed churchgoer. Molly hated thinking any man, especially a believing Christian, could abandon his own children, but if Ned stayed gone...

Lord, please bring him home this morning.

Molly pushed away from the window and nudged her sister’s shoulder.

A muffled groan was Daisy’s only response.

Shaking her head, Molly poked the girl’s shoulder with a bit more force.

She received yet another feminine groan, followed by a muffled, “Go away.”

“Mama won’t hold breakfast for you,” she warned.

More mumbling.

“Fine. You’re on your own.” Mildly frustrated, yet still loving her sister dearly, Molly left the room with a little more noise than necessary.

The rest of her family was already seated around the breakfast table. Molly’s three younger brothers alternated between passing platters of food and shoveling impressively large bites into their mouths. Boys.

It amazed her how much her brothers had grown in the years she’d been married to George. All three were good-looking and had the Carson blond hair. The younger two, Donny and Roy, had their father’s hazel eyes, while Thomas’s were deep brown.

Smiling fondly at each of them, Molly took her seat beside Roy. At twelve, he was inquisitive and seemed to be always taking things apart. Donny was the talker. Thomas was the calmest and most logical of the three. At fourteen, he was also the most mature.

As they did nearly every Sunday morning, Roy and Donny debated which one of them would ride old Walker into town and which would have to sit in the bed of the wagon.

“It’s my turn.” Donny’s voice held more whine than reason.

Roy begged to differ, loudly, and with equal amounts of whining. The heated discussion continued another fifteen seconds before their father put an end to it.

“Thomas is the oldest,” he said. “He’ll ride Walker. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

He pointed to their plates. Once they obeyed his command, he turned toward Molly. “I trust you slept well.”

“I did, thank you.” Actually, she’d tossed and turned most of the night. But there was no reason to upset her father.

Or her mother, who was eyeing her with her usual worried scowl. Keeping her own expression bland, Molly took the platter of cured ham from Roy and concentrated on eating her breakfast.

Conversation turned to the ice-cream social after service. Apparently, Mercy Green, owner of Mercy’s Café, was supplying the ingredients.

Laughter soon replaced dissent among her brothers. It was a lovely, boisterous sound that represented the very heart of family. Head down, Molly took a few calming breaths.

She loved her parents and siblings, and was happy to be home, but she desperately wanted her own family. Despite what she’d said to CJ, she wanted to be a wife again and run her own household.

George had been a good husband, handsome, kind and dedicated to the Lord. During the first year of their marriage, his devotion to Molly had been above reproach. But the longer she’d gone without conceiving, the more distant he’d become.

The pressure to bear a child had taken over every part of their life together. Instead of bonding them closer, their mutual frustration had put a wedge between them. With every month that passed, and no baby on the way, Molly’s life had grown a little less happy, a little less joyful.

Her eyes stung with remembered pain, from the loss of hope and the certainty that she was a failure as a wife. And as a woman.

“Molly?” Her mother’s hand covered hers. “Are you unwell?”

“No.” She put on a brave face and slowly lifted her head. “I was just thinking about...George.”

Helen Carson’s eyes softened. Molly was saved from further questioning when Daisy rushed into the room, her words tumbling out faster than her footsteps.

“I’m not late.” She hopped to the empty chair at the table with one shoe on her foot, the other dangling in her hand. “I’m merely running a bit behind.”

“A bit behind?” Releasing her grip on Molly, Helen Carson sat back in her chair and turned her full attention to her other daughter. “Is that what we’re now calling your proclivity to oversleep?”

Daisy opened her mouth, presumably to defend herself, but wisely shut it again.

Even with Daisy’s tardiness, the Carson brood set out for town with plenty of time to complete the two-mile journey before service started. Thomas did indeed receive the honor of riding Walker. The younger boys piled into the back of the wagon. Helen and John Carson took the front seat. Molly and Daisy settled on the smaller bench behind them.

Before they were even off Carson land, her parents leaned in close, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. Watching them brought Molly another wave of unexpected yearning. Even after twenty-five years of marriage, and the challenges of building one of the largest working ranches in central Texas, they were still very much in love.

It was quite lovely to witness. And utterly depressing.

Molly despaired of ever finding that kind of happiness. She’d had her chance at marriage and had failed miserably. What man would want her now? She was a barren, twenty-three-year-old widow living on her family’s ranch.

From a distance, the town of Little Horn beckoned. Welcoming the distraction, Molly studied the small settlement, which had been incorporated two years ago.

As her father took the most direct route through town, Molly watched the various buildings pass by. There was the general store on her left, the grocer on her right. The shoemaker and both coopers were farther up ahead. One street over was a well-established livery and blacksmith, and a cotton gin-gristmill lay just beyond the outskirts of town.

At the end of the wide main street, Molly noticed that Mercy’s Café, situated between the train depot and bank, had a brand-new sign. The pretty blue lettering really stood out against the stark white background.

The one building Little Horn lacked was a church. For now, the congregation met beneath a large, serviceable tent that had been erected for a revival last year and never taken down.

When her father pulled in beside a row of carriages, Molly gathered herself in preparation for exiting the wagon. Her brothers were much quicker. Roy and Donny scrambled out of the flatbed before the brake had even been set.

Jacob and Sam Barlow, boys from a neighboring ranch, called out to them. Her brothers quickly changed direction and met up with their friends. Thomas hitched his horse to the back of the wagon, then took off to find his own friends.

Molly, Daisy and their parents disembarked from the wagon at a much more sedate pace.

“John, dear.” Molly’s mother caught her husband’s arm. “Would you mind keeping an eye on our younger sons? Whenever they get together with the Barlow boys, well, mischief soon follows.”

“Heading over there now.”

“Much appreciated. Oh, look, it’s Beatrice Rampart.” Helen lifted her hand in greeting. “I haven’t spoken with her since last week. I’ll just go over and say hello.”

“I guess you’re stuck with me.” Daisy linked arms with Molly. “And I’m stuck with you.”

She laughed at the teasing tone. “So it would seem.”

Arm in arm, they stayed close to the wagon and watched the milling crowd. Daisy seemed unusually focused. Her gaze kept sweeping from one side of the tent to the other. Molly wondered what—or perhaps, who—her sister was searching for so diligently.

She had her answer when sixteen-year-old Calvin Barlow caught sight of them and lifted his hand in greeting, much as their mother had done moments before. Daisy returned the gesture, then let out a soft, shuddering sigh when he started in their direction.

“Promise you won’t leave me alone with him,” Daisy whispered.

“You have my word.” Molly tried not to smile as she spoke. But, really, who was this young woman standing beside her?

She hardly recognized her sister. Daisy was outspoken and full of more than her share of opinions. She was certainly never shy. But now, with Calvin Barlow bearing down on them, Daisy’s cheeks had turned a becoming shade of pink. Her eyes sparkled with an odd mix of trepidation and excitement.

Molly remembered that look. She’d seen it in her own mirror five years ago, when she’d first discovered she had tender feelings for CJ Thorn.

He’d been completely oblivious of her, which had hurt at the time. Looking back, she realized he’d been far too consumed with running his ranch to notice her.

Now, it was too late for her to catch his eye. Even if she did, she had so little to offer him.

Calvin drew to a stop several feet away. He greeted Molly first, then put all his focus on Daisy. “Good morning, Miss Carson.”

“Miss Carson? Miss Carson?”

Eyes wide, Calvin blinked at her for several long seconds. “That is your name.”

“Of course it’s my name.” Sputtering in outrage, Daisy pulled her arm free of Molly’s and jammed her hands on her hips. “What’s with the sudden formality?”

His mouth worked but no words came out.

“Well?” Daisy demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself, Calvin Barlow?”

He frowned, clearly taken aback by her heated question. “I’m trying to show you respect, Daisy.”

“No, what you’ve done is insult me.”

“How do you figure that?”

Molly was wondering the same thing herself.

“We’ve known each other all our lives.” Daisy said this as if it explained everything. “I should think it obvious.”

“Well, it’s not.” Calvin blew out a frustrated hiss, moving a step closer to Daisy. “Why are you being so difficult?”

“Difficult? Me? What about you?” She leaned forward, practically touching noses with him. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were up to something devious.”

Chest puffed out, eyes narrowed, Calvin launched into a lengthy defense of his actions, whereby Daisy proceeded to dismantle each and every one of them. The more they argued the happier they seemed.

Molly hid a smile behind her hand. The conversation reminded her of several she’d witnessed early in Ned and Penelope’s courtship.

They’d bickered...er, bantered much like this. It hadn’t been long before they’d fallen deeply in love. Ned had been an attentive, patient, caring husband. Grief had turned him into a different man. But that didn’t have to be how their love story ended. He could still return and become a father to his children, the way Penelope would have wanted.

With hope building in her heart, Molly searched the area for Ned’s rangy build and shaggy brown hair. She found no sign of him. But there, beneath a tall cottonwood tree, stood the rest of the Thorn family.

CJ was larger than life, handsome and clean-shaven and so very capable. He didn’t wear a hat this morning, but still looked like the quintessential rancher, strong and leanly built, yet with shoulders broad enough to carry the burdens of his loved ones.

The girls clung to his hands with utter confidence that he would keep them safe. On closer inspection, Molly realized CJ wasn’t as in control as he seemed. He had that harried look again. His features were weary and a little rough around the edges. He’d had a trying morning.

He needs me.

The thought drew her several steps toward him.

“I’ll be over there,” she said to her sister, “with the Thorn family.” She nodded toward the rancher and two little girls standing beneath the large tree.

Still in a heated discussion with Calvin, Daisy waved her away with a flick of her wrist. As Molly moved in CJ’s direction, she came to the conclusion she should have never agreed to take the morning off.

He was clearly in over his head with the twins. She couldn’t begin to imagine how alone he must feel with Ned gone.

Or perhaps she could.

Hadn’t she, even surrounded by her family, felt alone since returning home?

Well, she wasn’t alone. And neither was CJ.

They had each other. They had solidarity in their common purpose to provide a home for the twins. Their bond wouldn’t last forever, but for now, Molly and CJ were connected.

She moved quickly, suddenly in a great hurry. She’d barely made it halfway to her destination when she made the decision to sit with the Thorns during service instead of her own family.

Deep down, where she understood the pain of loss, Molly knew it was the right thing to do. Nothing could induce her to change her mind, not even the prospect of her mother’s, and possibly even her father’s, disapproval.

* * *

At last, CJ thought. Help was on the way.

With each step Molly took in his direction, he felt the tension draining out of him.

He let out a slow, careful breath. All morning he’d been feeling raw. Too raw. He wasn’t a man who liked to accept defeat. Yet he wasn’t so full of pride that he couldn’t admit, at least to himself, that this morning had nearly done him in and demonstrated just how much he relied on Molly. Not only to care for the girls, but also for the day-to-day running of his household.

She was a calming influence and the stability they all needed—not just Sarah and Anna, but CJ, too.

If she ever left him...

Not the point, he told himself.

He needed to figure out how to thank her for all she’d done for his family since Penelope’s passing. Somehow he would find a way to repay her for her sacrifice.

She looked uncommonly beautiful this morning in a blue cotton dress with a white lace collar and long sleeves. The cut of the garment emphasized her tiny waist and petite frame.

He attempted to swallow past the lump in his throat, without much success. Molly took his breath away.

If he were from a different family...

“Miss Molly,” Anna called out. “Miss Molly, over here! We’re over here.”

Sarah wasn’t content with merely waving. She pulled her hand free of CJ’s and raced to meet Molly across the small expanse of grass. Anna followed hard on her sister’s heels.

Molly greeted both girls with a hug and a kiss on the top of their heads.

“Well, look who it is.” She stepped back and smiled down at the twins. “My two favorite girls in all of Little Horn, Texas. And don’t you look especially pretty this morning.”

“Unca Corny picked out our dresses,” Sarah told her.

“He tried to make breakfast.” Anna swayed her shoulders back and forth with little-girl pride. “He didn’t do so good. He burned the oatmeal and Cookie had to make more.”

Molly’s compassionate gaze met his. “Sounds like you had an...interesting morning.”

Finding humor in the situation now that she was here to share it with him, CJ chuckled softly. “Though I wouldn’t want to repeat the experience any time soon, we survived well enough.”

“Is that so?” She lifted her eyebrows and simply looked at him for a single beat. The pause was small but marked. At least she refrained from reminding him what he already knew. The exasperating morning could have been avoided if he hadn’t insisted she take the day off.

“Miss Molly, look. I’m wearing my favorite pink ribbon.” Sarah touched the floppy bow with reverent fingers. “I tied it all by myself.”

“You did a lovely job.” Under the guise of inspecting the ribbon, Molly retied the bow, then moved it around until it sat straight on the child’s head. “Pink is my favorite color.”

“It’s Pa’s favorite, too.” Sarah’s gaze skittered toward the crowded tent. “I wore it just for him.”

The wistful note in her voice broke CJ’s heart. He shared a tortured look with Molly.

Her ragged sigh told him she was thinking along the same lines as he was. His brother always made it to church, a fact the twins had reminded him of this morning.

“Pa says Sunday is the most important day of the week,” Sarah had told him, while Anna had added, “And we’re never supposed to miss Sunday service. Not ever.”

Somewhere along the way, the two had gotten it into their heads that Ned would show up at church today. CJ wasn’t anywhere near as confident. If Ned didn’t make an appearance, the twins would know that their father was truly gone.

Anger at his brother burned the air in his lungs. How could Ned have done this to his children?

Service was about to begin. CJ knew this because Mrs. Hickey climbed in to the back of the wagon where an ancient piano had been carted in from the schoolhouse. Lips pursed, she positioned her sharp-boned, skinny self at the ancient keyboard and pounded out a wheezing refrain of the opening hymn.

CJ’s muscles went taut. His nerves clawed and scrambled beneath his skin. He looked around, tugged on his collar. The air felt too heavy, too still. A baby’s squall sounded over the din of the organ music.

Where was Ned?

Until that moment, CJ hadn’t realized how much he’d allowed the girls’ enthusiasm to seep through his skepticism. He’d actually been expecting his brother to make an appearance.

“Miss Molly?” Anna’s small, tormented voice sounded a bit weepy, as if she were on the verge of tears. “Will...will you stay with us until Pa shows up?”

“Of course.” She pasted a cheery smile on her face and reached for the child’s hand. “Why don’t we wait inside the tent?”

“No.” Anna shoved her arms behind her back. “I want to wait for Pa here.”

“Me, too,” Sarah said, eyes mutinous in her thin face.

CJ closed his own eyes, gathered up his patience and stepped into the fray. “We’re not going very far, just a few steps in that direction.”

He pointed to the back of the tent, where they usually sat, then made the mistake of trying to steer the girls in that direction.

They dug in their heels.

“No, Unca Corny, no.” Sarah stomped her foot. “Pa won’t be able to find us if we move from this spot. We have to stay right here.”

Eyes brimming with tears, Anna joined in her sister’s rebellion. “I’m not leaving until Pa comes.”

Out of ideas, CJ looked desperately to Molly for help.

“Tell you what.” She sank to her knees. “We’ll save a seat for your father on the very last bench, the one closest to this tree. He’s sure to see us there.”

CJ added his own pledge. “I’ll keep an eye out for your pa during the entire service. He won’t make it anywhere near this tree without me seeing him. That’s a promise.”

“What if Pa doesn’t come back?” Sarah’s eyes grew wide and her voice dropped to a frightened whisper. “What if, like Mama, he never comes back?”

Anna burst into tears.

“Hey, hey now, it’s going to be all right.” Molly pulled the children into her arms. “No matter what happens here today, you will never be alone. You will always have me.”

“And you’ll always have me.” CJ looked from one small, precious child to the other, his resolve growing with each beat of his heart.

These girls were his responsibility now. He was committed down to the bone. He would stumble along the way and surely make mistakes, but he would love Sarah and Anna until the day he died. He would protect them with his life.

Emotion ripping at his throat, he risked a glance at Molly. Their gazes locked and held. He remembered what she’d said the morning Ned left town. We’re in this together.

Eyes never leaving his, she stood and took Sarah’s hand. CJ reached for Anna’s.

Together, they guided the girls into the tent.

Chapter Four

Sitting with perfect posture, in a pose of perfect serenity, Molly felt like a perfect fraud. It took every ounce of willpower not to fidget on the thin, wooden bench she shared with CJ and the twins. For the sake of the children, she forced herself to remain outwardly calm.

Inside, she burned.

Truly, there was nothing more trying than pretending all was well when matters were anything but. Lips pressed tightly together, Molly folded her hands in her lap and considered the heartbreak that lay ahead.

When Ned didn’t show, what would Molly and CJ say to the twins? Words formed in her head, disappeared, then reformed again in a vastly different order. While she certainly agreed that “the truth shall set you free,” she also knew that the truth often caused pain and sorrow. Molly didn’t want that for Sarah and Anna.

Too late. The thought whispered through her mind.

Ned had made a terrible, selfish decision. How easy it would be to say something unkind about the man. But that would only upset the girls further.

Out of the corner of her eye, Molly looked down at them sitting between her and CJ. At first glance, they represented the very picture of polite, well-behaved children. Having adopted a pose similar to hers, they were uncommonly still. The hollow look in their eyes warned that the truth about their father was starting to sink in.

Molly wanted to weep for them.

CJ seemed to be fighting his own internal battle. Though his features were impassive, Molly could practically feel the tension coming off him in waves.

She nearly sighed, but the breath caught in her throat and came out sounding like a strangled sob.

Eyes full of silent understanding, CJ reached around the girls and squeezed Molly’s shoulder. The gesture was so CJ, solid and yet somehow tender. For that one, brief moment, Molly let go of her anxiety and simply basked in the man’s quiet strength. Everything was going to be all right. The children would survive this trauma. CJ would make sure of it.

Giving in to that sigh after all, she broke eye contact and forced her gaze straight ahead. Now that the singing had concluded, Mrs. Hickey, all-around busybody and notorious gossip, took an eternity shuffling toward her seat in the front row beside her husband.

The woman might move at the pace of turtles, but with her rust-colored hair pulled tightly against her head and her narrowed gaze sweeping over the congregation, she looked more like a rat contemplating its next meal.

Molly took the opportunity to glance at the crowd as unobtrusively as possibly. She found no sign of Ned, neither inside the tent nor out. Not that she’d expected a different outcome. But still...

Ned, where are you?

A dozen possible answers slammed through Molly’s mind. But then the local preacher took his place behind the pulpit and a collective hush filled the air.

At twenty-eight, Brandon Stillwater was a big, muscular man who resembled a rancher rather than a man of God. Tall, broad through the shoulders and chest, he had piercing silver eyes, light brown hair and a surprisingly relaxed demeanor that put everyone at ease.

His identical twin, Bo, was the more reserved of the two. They owned property just south of town. Bo did most of the ranch work, while Brandon focused on serving the Lord and seeing to his flock.