Suddenly a Father

Rancher CJ Thorn isn’t ready to graduate from uncle to brand-new daddy—but he has no choice. After his widowed brother runs off, a pair of adorable twins have no one but CJ...and lovely neighbor Molly Langley. She’s helped with the girls for so long that she’s almost part of the family. Almost. CJ knows his family isn’t good enough for her. Not when his brother’s actions have disgraced the Thorn name yet again.

Watching CJ become a devoted father would soften any woman’s heart. Yet Molly must remain immune. CJ deserves more than a woman who can’t have children. Held back by fear, it’ll take a disaster forcing the community together before they’re ready to risk a chance on happiness.

“Miss Molly, look. I’m wearing my favorite pink ribbon. It’s Pa’s favorite, too.”

Sarah’s gaze skittered around, searching. “I wore it just for him.”

The twins had gotten it into their heads that Ned would show up at church today. CJ wasn’t as confident.

Molly pasted on a cheery smile. “Why don’t we wait inside the tent?”

“No,” Anna said. “I want to wait for Pa here.”

“What if Pa doesn’t come back?” Sarah’s eyes grew wide. “What if, like Mama, he never comes back?”

Anna burst into tears.

Molly pulled the children into her arms. “No matter what happens here today, you will always have me.”

“And you’ll always have me.” CJ looked from one precious face to the other, his resolve growing. These girls were his responsibility now.

He risked a glance at Molly. He remembered what she’d said earlier. We’re in this together.

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

Together, they guided the girls into the tent.

* * *

LONE STAR COWBOY LEAGUE:

THE FOUNDING YEARS—

Bighearted ranchers in small-town Texas

Stand-In Rancher Daddy—

Renee Ryan, July 2016

A Family for the Rancher—

Louise M. Gouge, August 2016

A Rancher of Convenience—

Regina Scott, September 2016

RENEE RYAN grew up in a Florida beach town where she learned to surf, sort of. With a degree from FSU, she explored career opportunities at a Florida theme park and a modeling agency and even taught high school economics. She currently lives with her husband in Nebraska, and many have mistaken their overweight cat for a small bear. You may contact Renee at reneeryan.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @reneeryanbooks.

Stand-In Rancher Daddy
Renee Ryan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

—Hebrews 11:1

I dedicate this book to Louise Gouge and Regina Scott, two incredibly talented authors who made writing this book easy. It was a joy and honor to work with you on this series.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Little Horn, Texas, June 1895

A full hour before the sun peeked over the horizon, Molly Carson Langley slid out of bed. Ranch work started early in Texas Hill Country. If she wished to make her morning journey before the sun rose, she must hurry.

With fast, measured steps, she padded through the room. The hardwood floor was polished to a smooth patina and felt warm beneath her bare feet. A muffled sigh slipped past her lips. After three years of marriage and successfully managing her own household, she didn’t belong in her childhood home anymore.

She wasn’t sure where she belonged. Until she figured it out, a pair of motherless four-year-olds needed her. That mattered. It had to matter. Of course it mattered.

Jaw set at a determined angle, Molly stuffed her feet inside a pair of ankle boots and put on her favorite calico dress with the lavender floral print. She wound her blond hair in a loose braid down her back, then packed a small bag with personal items from her dresser. A hairbrush, a rack of pins, several ribbons in colors she hoped the girls would like, and her worn Bible with the pages crinkled at the edges.

One glance out the window told her the morning sky was shifting from black to deep purple. Dawn was drawing near.

Hurry, Molly.

She made her way toward the door. The other occupant in the room slept peacefully, her soft, feminine snoring the only sound cutting through the still, humid air.

Without breaking stride, Molly smiled down at her sister. At sixteen, the dreams of youth were still fresh and untarnished in Daisy’s young mind. Seven years older, Molly could hardly relate to the girl. The death of her husband eleven months ago made it all the more difficult.

Her feet grew heavy as stone and, for a brief moment, despair filled Molly’s heart. She’d lost more than her husband. So. Much. More.

No. She would not feel sorry for herself. If he were here, George would tell her that the good Lord had a plan for her life. No matter how dark it seemed right now, the particulars were already worked out. She just needed to have faith.

Molly wasn’t as faithful as her preacher husband had been. Not anymore. Perhaps she never had been.

At least she’d had somewhere to go after George’s death. Molly would concentrate on being grateful her family had welcomed her home.

Her future might look bleak, but she was still young, still vital, still necessary to a family facing their own tragedy. When she’d returned home, she’d never expected her best friend to die suddenly and leave behind twin daughters. Molly would take care of Penelope’s children until she was no longer needed.

Resolve firmly in place, she slung the satchel over her shoulder and tiptoed into the empty hallway. She entered the kitchen, took two full steps and froze.

A pang of guilt whispered through her.

“Good morning, Mama.” Molly adopted what she hoped was an airy tone. “You’re up early.”

“I was going to say the same about you.” The soft, musical lilt was in stark contrast to the concern in her mother’s eyes.

Even after birthing five children, Helen Carson remained a beautiful woman. Her blond hair, streaked with silver strands, was pulled back in a serviceable bun that revealed a face nearly identical to her two daughters. Save for a few lines and wrinkles, the high cheekbones were the same, as were the straight nose, pale blue eyes and stubborn set of her chin.

“Well, I’m off to the Thorn ranch.” Molly attempted to shift around her mother.

“I’d like a word with you before you leave.”

Molly tried not to sigh. This was the reason she’d woken early: to avoid a difficult conversation with her mother.

Helen Carson was fiercely protective of all her children, and that included her oldest daughter. What she refused to understand was that Molly was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. “There is nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

Her mother’s features showed distress and something else—not censure, precisely, but close. “It’s been nearly a year since your husband’s death. George wouldn’t want you hiding from the world.”

“I’m not hiding from the world.” Molly blew out a frustrated burst of air, hating the defensive note in her voice. “I’m serving a family in need.”

George would understand. He would even encourage her. An itinerant preacher, his personal mission had been to help the less fortunate. Before he’d contracted the fever that ultimately killed him, George had shared a love of serving others side by side with Molly.

Her marriage had been a happy one. Until Molly failed to provide her husband with the one thing he wanted most—a child. She’d been bitterly disappointed over her failure as a wife. George’s resentment had only added to her shame.

If her mother knew the truth, Molly was certain she’d give her words of comfort, the kind meant to heal her troubled heart. But Molly didn’t want sympathy. She certainly didn’t want to discuss her secret shame.

Anything but that.

She stood straighter, lifted her chin and attempted a second time to step around her mother.

Helen Carson moved directly into her path. “It’s been six months since Penelope became ill and died. Surely there is someone else who can care for her daughters.”

“There is no one else.”

Besides, Molly had given her friend her word. Even if she hadn’t made a promise, the twins needed a woman’s influence in their lives. They had their father, yet even after six months he was still absorbed in his own grief. And lately, Molly had noticed him distancing himself from his daughters, barely going through the motions of being a parent.

Their uncle sometimes stepped in and filled the void. Molly admired him for that—oh, how, she admired him—but CJ had his hands full running the Triple-T ranch.

“If you won’t listen to reason,” her mother said, “then at least consider taking Daisy with you.”

“You need her here.”

Her mother opened her mouth to argue.

Molly cut her off. “Please try to understand. Until Ned marries again, or another solution presents itself, I will honor my promise to Penelope. If our roles were reversed, she would do the same for me.”

“I can’t help but think there’s something you’re not telling me, some reason you’re not sharing with me.”

“The twins need me.” What woman didn’t want to be needed, especially one who couldn’t have children of her own? “I should think that reason enough.”

“Molly, won’t you please be honest with me?”

“It’s nearly dawn.” She looked pointedly at the band of gray riding low on the horizon. “The girls will be awake soon.”

This time, when Molly made for the back door, her mother pulled her into a fierce hug. “As soon as you’re ready to tell me what’s troubling you, I’ll be here to listen.”

“There’s nothing troubling me.” She stepped out of the embrace. “Other than my concern for two small children.”

With her mother’s sigh of resignation ringing in her ears, Molly hurried out of the house. She made quick work of saddling Sadie, the ten-year-old gray mare born the same year as Molly’s youngest brother, Donny.

Halfway between her family’s large spread and the much smaller Triple-T ranch, Molly felt the tension in her shoulders melt away. A soft flutter of air stirred the leaves of the Texas oaks nestled in a small grove on her left. She breathed in, smelled the faint scents of sassafras and wild cherry.

Molly loved this time of morning, when night slowly surrendered to day and everything felt new again. When possibilities stretched before her and the future didn’t feel so hopeless.

Rolling Hills ranch was the largest cattle operation in the area. Tall, rugged bluffs peppered the landscape as far as the eye could see. The green leaves of cottonwood trees shared space with large granite and limestone rocks. The sound of water sloshing on the lakeshore near the edge of her parents’ property accompanied a bobwhite’s distinctive whistle.

A movement in the distance caught her attention. Narrowing her eyes, she watched a horse and rider race across a flat patch of land. The man’s slouched posture was at odds with the magnificence of the black stallion beneath him.

Molly’s stomach dropped.

She knew that horse, and the rider. But the two did not belong together. Why hadn’t Ned taken his own gelding? What was he doing with his brother’s horse?

No one rode Thunder but CJ. The animal was too valuable to be mishandled and...

Molly had a terrible, awful feeling about this.

Please, Lord, let me be wrong. The evidence suggested otherwise. She should have seen this coming.

Why hadn’t she put the pieces together before now?

Ned had become increasingly morose in recent weeks, muttering things under his breath such as “What’s the use?” and “I can’t keep doing this.” Molly hadn’t thoroughly understood what he meant and she certainly hadn’t wanted to overstep her bounds. After all, she was helping out the Thorn family in a temporary capacity.

Another unsettling thought occurred. Surely Ned hadn’t left the twins alone in the house.

What if he had?

Molly wrapped her arms around Sadie’s neck. “Come on, old girl.” She gave a gentle kick to the mare’s ribs. “I need you to run faster than you ever have before.”

The horse responded with a burst of speed. Once they were on Thorn land, Molly urged Sadie to a trot, guiding her past the outbuildings, around the corral and on to the main house, a simple, one-story, whitewashed clapboard structure.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed smoke coming from the bunkhouse, a sure sign Cookie had already started making breakfast for the handful of ranch hands CJ employed.

Was CJ eating with the hands, as he did every morning? Was he even aware his brother had left the main house?

Molly pulled Sadie to a halt and scrambled off the horse’s back. She hurried onto the porch she and the girls had swept clean yesterday afternoon. Without bothering to knock, she rushed inside the house.

Thick gloom closed in around her. The silence was so heavy she decided the children were surely still asleep.

The children.

Molly must get to Anna and Sarah. She must ensure they were safe. She moved deeper into the house and froze when she caught a faint whiff of whiskey. Oh, Ned.

The situation was far worse than Molly had feared, and certainly explained Ned’s increasing unpredictability. Her friend’s husband had evidently turned to the bottle to swallow his grief. Unfortunately, consuming alcohol was not a wise solution.

Heart in her throat, Molly blinked through the darkness. Her vision slowly cleared, then locked on the tall silhouette of a familiar figure.

A ripple of longing flowed through her before she ruthlessly shut it down.

CJ Thorn stood before her, silent, his eyes on the piece of paper in his hand. His features were inscrutable in the dim light cast by the lamp on the table beside him, but Molly knew every line and curve by heart.

She knew every precious angle of his handsome face, the strong, square jaw and the dark eyebrows slashed over eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee. He was more than merely good-looking. He was a man of integrity and one who’d worked hard to keep his brother from following in their father’s footsteps.

Ned had taken to whiskey, anyway. CJ must be so disappointed.

“CJ?” She gently touched his sleeve.

He looked up. Blinked. Then blinked again, as if he hadn’t expected to find her standing so close.

“I saw Ned riding away from the ranch.” She waited a beat, then supplied the rest of the bad news. “He was on your horse.”

Surprise flared in his eyes. “Ned took Thunder?”

She nodded.

Anger replaced the earlier shock, followed by such sorrow Molly could actually feel the weight of the emotion in her own heart. The vulnerable expression made him more compelling than usual.

CJ Thorn was not a man who needed to be more compelling than usual.

The children, she told herself. Anna and Sarah must come first. With the twins in mind, Molly released CJ’s arm and stepped back.

* * *

In the predawn gloom, CJ tried to focus on the woman standing beside him. But his mind kept returning to Ned and the terrible choice his brother had made.

No matter how hard CJ fought to keep his breathing steady, his gut roiled with regret. This was the moment he’d been dreading for weeks, when his brother gave up completely.

Rage boiled into something CJ couldn’t begin to name. Ned had not only made his escape on CJ’s prize stallion, he’d not only abandoned his own children, but he’d left the girls alone in the house. Any number of things could have happened to them.

Even for Ned, that was an all-time low. What was next? Cattle rustling? Bank robbery?

For months, CJ had held out hope that the worst of Ned’s grief was behind him. He’d prayed that his younger brother was on the brink of returning to the man he’d been while Penelope was alive.

Obviously, that had been wishful thinking.

All the emotion CJ had been holding back threatened to spill over, filling him until he thought he might explode.

“Is that a note from Ned?” Molly’s voice seemed to come at him through a thick wall of water.

He gave a brief nod before returning his gaze to the hastily scrawled note. The handwriting was messy, the message even messier.

Ned had always preferred the easier tasks on the ranch, but he’d been a decent man at the core. Penelope had brought out the best in him. Since her death, Ned had slipped deeper and deeper into despair.

CJ thought he’d be able to save Ned, given time.

Time had just run out.

“CJ, did you hear me?”

He lifted his head and glanced once again at the woman he’d grown to rely on far more than he cared to admit. “Ned took off.”

“Yes, I know.”

His heart began to thump harder.

Five years peeled away and he was twenty-two again, meeting Molly for the first time. She’d been full of light and goodness back then, the same as now. Just being in her company made him wish for...more. But he knew he could never reach so far above his station in life. He’d learned that cruel lesson from another woman and her upright, proper parents.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s happened.”

He handed her Ned’s note.

Feeling oddly nostalgic, he held silent while she read. During Ned and Penelope’s courtship, Molly had acted as chaperone. CJ had been attracted to her from the start. But he’d never let her know. Lillian’s harsh words had taught him a valuable lesson. No decent woman from a respectable family would have a man like him, a man with the last name Thorn.

Penelope had taken the risk and married Ned. Look how that had ended.

“Oh, Ned.” Molly’s hand flew to her mouth. “How could you?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question.”

How could his brother surrender custody of his own daughters to CJ?

Eyes shadowed with sadness, Molly returned the piece of paper. Her fingertips grazed CJ’s knuckles. The touch was barely a whisper, yet he felt the impact like a blow to the gut.

He closed his fist around the words Ned had penned. In a quick, careless scrawl of ink across paper, his brother had become the man CJ feared was deep inside every Thorn. He shuddered to think what would become of Ned now that he’d given in to the dark side of his nature.

“I suppose I understand how he could give up on himself,” Molly said. “But how could he give up on his own children?”

CJ heard the tears in her voice, saw the sorrow in the slump of her shoulders. He wanted to comfort her.

He took a large step back instead.

An awareness of her as a woman had been gnawing at him ever since she’d taken over Sarah and Anna’s full-time care following Penelope’s funeral.

Though he’d often wondered why Molly continued to serve his family, and CJ hadn’t interacted with her very often, he’d been grateful for her help. The girls adored her and he didn’t take that for granted. She’d been the stable force in all their lives. He realized that now.

Once, months ago, CJ had offered to pay Molly for her kindness. She’d been insulted by the mere suggestion and so he’d never brought up the subject again.

Did she understand how much his family relied on her? How much he relied on her? Every day, he felt her presence acutely, hovering on the edge of his life but not really part of it.

“I hadn’t realized Ned’s grief was this great. I thought...” Her brows pulled together in confusion. “How did I miss this?”

“We both missed it.”

Ned hadn’t begun drinking immediately following Penelope’s death, yet it hadn’t been very long afterward. When CJ had first confronted his brother, Ned had claimed he didn’t have a problem. He simply missed his wife. Apparently, the loneliness hit hardest at night, and he needed help sleeping. He’d promised CJ that it was only one drink, after the girls were in bed.

CJ had wanted to believe his brother. For a while, there’d been no reason not to trust Ned’s word. Still, CJ should have been more observant. He should have seen the signs that Ned was slowly spiraling out of control, in the same way their father had.

“Surely your brother will come to his senses and return in a day or two.”

“Perhaps.” CJ spoke without conviction. There was an unmistakable finality to Ned’s actions. By leaving a note that included awarding CJ custody of the twins, his brother had made his intentions clear.

What had Ned been thinking?

CJ knew nothing about raising children, especially girls. He was a rancher, most comfortable around cows and horses. The Triple-T was barely showing a profit. He couldn’t run the ranch and take care of two small children at the same time.

His life had just changed dramatically. He needed to move back into the main house. The twins couldn’t sleep here alone. He’d have to learn new skills, too many to sort through at once.

“I should start breakfast before the girls wake up.”

Molly’s words brought CJ great comfort and reminded him that decisions didn’t have to be made today. Watching her in the pale dawn light, he wondered just how much she did around the house when he was out working the ranch. “I’d be grateful.”

“It’s my pleasure.” She turned quiet, thoughtful. “I see no reason to upset the girls just yet. We probably should tell them as little as possible and hope that Ned changes his mind.”

This was one of the reasons CJ admired Molly. She always put the twins’ needs first. “We’re in agreement.”

Her smile filled him with the sense of peace he craved, but always hovered just out of reach. He cleared his throat. “I’ll head over to the bunkhouse and see if anyone spoke with Ned this morning. Maybe he told one of the men where he was going.”

Or maybe Cookie knew something about Ned’s departure.

Frowning, CJ reached for his hat, slapped it against his thigh. He wasn’t looking forward to speaking with his ranch cook. The grizzled former army captain wouldn’t be sympathetic. He’d warned CJ this day was coming.

CJ had chosen to believe matters weren’t all that dire and that Ned would eventually snap out of his grief.

“We’re moving the herd to the north pasture today.” He paused at the door. “If Ned shows up—”

“I’ll send Cookie to find you.”

“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

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.”

“Will he be back tomorrow?”

Furious at his brother, CJ forced out a calming breath, placed his hands on his knees, leaned over and gave the girls the truth. “I don’t know.”

Identical lower lips trembled.

He swallowed back another wave of anger at Ned. “I was hoping I could eat supper with you two girls.”

Sarah’s face tightened. Anna angled her head. Then both children gave him a small, tentative smile.

“Would you like me to eat with you?”

They nodded slowly, their little minds clearly working furiously behind their clear, rounded eyes.

They looked so forlorn, so disappointed, CJ’s heart twisted in his chest.

“Are you going to stay with us in the house tonight?” Anna asked.

“That’s the plan.”

Twisting the fabric of her skirt between her fingers, the child drew in a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Without pause, with one single motion, he lowered himself to his knees and opened his arms. “How about a hug for your Unca Corny?”

Anna launched herself at him. He caught her against his chest, hugged her close. She smelled of flowers and everything good in this world, and he thought his heart might burst with love.

Shifting her slightly to his left, he reached for Sarah, who’d been studying him very closely. She hugged him just as fiercely as her sister. Emotion swept through him, convicting him. He would do right by these children. Whatever it takes.

He set them away from him and searched their precious faces for any sign of distress. It was there, of course, shimmering in their wide, sad eyes, but with the resilience of youth, they chattered over one another in an attempt to tell him about their day.

How could Ned have walked away from these sweet girls? It boggled the mind.

“...and then Miss Molly showed us how to make cornhusk dolls.”

“Did she?” He looked up and found Molly watching him with soft, watery eyes. Her expression was almost wistful.

He didn’t understand that look. Yet he knew it had something to do with him. His heart pounded against his ribs. His breath clogged in his throat. His mind reeled.

Her, a whisper in his mind seemed to say. She’s the one for you.

CJ shoved aside the thought with a hard shake of his head. There’d been a time when he thought Molly had a special affection for him. But her interest had waned right before she’d gone off and married a preacher.

“All right, girls, give your uncle a chance to catch his breath.” Molly clapped her hands together. “Supper’s ready.”

She herded the twins toward the table, then paused when CJ didn’t follow. “You are joining us, aren’t you?”

“A home-cooked meal with three beautiful females? Try to keep me away.”

They shared a laugh. It felt good to laugh with Molly.

Despite Ned’s noticeable absence, supper went smoothly. CJ credited the easy atmosphere to Molly’s calming presence.

When the dishes were clean and order was restored to the kitchen, she said her goodbyes to the girls. “I’ll be back in the morning. We’ll spend the day making clothes for your new dolls.”

“Will you read to us before you go?”

She glanced out the window, seemed to consider the question thoughtfully. “For five minutes, but no more.”

That was CJ’s cue. “I’ll saddle your horse and bring her around to the front of the house.”

“Thank you.” She gave him one of her sweetest smiles.

He found himself smiling back.

He was still smiling as he made the trek to the barn. He located his foreman and asked him to make sure Molly got home safely.

“You got it, Boss.”

CJ would have preferred to escort her himself, but he couldn’t leave the twins alone and felt confident sending Duke in his place. By the time he stepped back inside the house, Molly was sitting on the sofa between the girls, reading from a small, worn Bible.

The three made a cozy scene, the very essence of family. A yearning so deep shot through CJ that for a moment he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

He pulled the door shut behind him, but stayed where he was, watching, hoping, praying for something so far out of reach he couldn’t make the image form in his head.

“Sadie is saddled and waiting for you outside.”

Molly shut the Bible and kissed each girl on the head. The twins immediately protested her departure. After another round of hugs, and more promises to return before first light, Molly joined him at the door.

They walked outside in silence.

As he helped her into the saddle, CJ felt it again, that powerful wish for something...more. It was the same sensation from this morning. Once again, he pushed it away. Ignored it. Denied it. The process proved far less successful this evening.

Clearing his throat, he rolled his shoulders, shifted his stance. He couldn’t seem to find his balance. His mind filled with all the tasks that lay ahead. He would have to move a few things into the main house tonight. Then he’d have to get the girls settled in bed. And—

“Relax, CJ.” Molly leaned over and touched his arm. Everything in him calmed. “You aren’t in this alone. I’ll continue watching the girls for as long as you need me.”

She’d said nearly the same words this morning. He had no reason to doubt her sincerity, but such a promise wasn’t realistic.

Ever since Penelope died, CJ had focused on ranching, while letting Ned find his own way through his grief. In the span of a single day, CJ’s entire life had changed. His priorities had shifted dramatically. He must move into the future with only frank honesty between him and Molly. “One day, whether Ned returns or not, you will leave us.”

She was shaking her head before he finished speaking.

He pressed on. “One day,” he said with emphasis, to make his point clear, “you’ll marry again, and that’ll be—”

“I’ll never marry again.”

CJ pulled back in surprise. He couldn’t remember a time when Molly had looked this fierce, this determined or this sad.

It was the sadness that led him to say, “You’re still in love with your husband.”

Surely that explained her refusal to wed another man. There was tremendous honor in that kind of devotion, CJ decided, even as he felt something unpleasant twist in his gut.

“A part of me will always love George.” Sorrow came and went in her eyes. “But that’s not the reason I won’t ever—”

She cut off her own words, glanced frantically around, then drew in a sharp breath and started again. “It’s getting late. I better head home.”

Her voice was even as she spoke, but the pain in her eyes made CJ regret bringing up her husband. At a loss for words, he reached for the horse’s reins and handed them to her. “Good night, Molly.”

“Good night, CJ.”

Neither made a move to leave. They didn’t smile, didn’t speak. They simply stared into each other’s eyes. And then they stared some more. One moment stretched into two.

At last, Molly lowered her eyelashes and the awkward interaction was over. She gave the mare a gentle kick in the ribs and set out toward her family’s ranch.

Once Duke moved in behind her, CJ closed his eyes and considered all that had happened in the span of a day. He predicted a long, sleepless night ahead, the reason as much because of the woman riding toward the painted horizon as his brother’s shocking departure.

Chapter Three

The next two days passed by in a blur for Molly. Ned had not returned. In an attempt to distract the twins from missing their father, she’d kept them busy and on a relatively tight schedule. Her efforts proved successful, mostly. Apart from a few tears and a lot of questions, Anna and Sarah seemed to be taking their new situation in stride.

That said a lot about CJ and his determination to step into Ned’s shoes.

Of course, it was early days yet. It was clear CJ wasn’t settling into his new role as a father smoothly. Every morning, when Molly arrived at the Triple-T ranch, he would be waiting for her at the door, looking both harried and vastly relieved to see her.

His discomfort was to be expected. He was completely out of his element with the girls. However, like any Texas cowboy worthy of the name, he was tackling the challenge head-on. Oh, he was still tentative around the twins and they weren’t exactly comfortable around him, either. Which begged the question, why had he given Molly the day off?

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.

He gave a wide, welcoming smile to the assembled group, then immediately launched into his sermon. “As Little Horn nears its two-year anniversary and our Founder’s Day celebration approaches, I find myself thinking about journeys.”

Though his smile remained in place, his tone turned serious. “Through the years, our community has enjoyed countless blessings. Yet we’ve also suffered our share of tragedies. We’ve celebrated marriages and births. We’ve endured drought, flash flooding, disease and the death of loved ones.”

He paused, drew in a slow breath.

“The sometimes happy, sometimes tragic road we’ve traveled is not unlike the one the Israelites took out of Egypt.” He grasped the podium and lowered his engaging voice an octave. “Why did the Lord lead His people through the wilderness instead of taking them directly to their destination? Why did a trip that should have taken a month last forty years?”

He waited while the congregation pondered the questions. Then, with a flourish, he opened his Bible.

After reading the entire thirteenth chapter of Exodus, he set the weathered book back on the podium and repeated a portion of the text from memory. “God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near. For God said, ‘Lest perhaps the people change their minds when they see war, and return to Egypt.’”

Securing his gaze on no one in particular, he looked out over the congregation. “What seemed like a wrong turn to the Israelites was actually a protection. The seemingly easy path would have taken them into a battle they were ill-equipped to fight.”

Molly, thinking of her own journey, smiled down at Sarah and Anna. Her path had certainly not been easy, but it had been rewarding nonetheless. Ever since that first day she’d traveled to the Thorn ranch to reconnect with her best friend, Molly had been captured by the sweet innocence of Penelope’s adorable daughters. In the past six months, as she’d taken over their care, Molly had grown to love them with the heart of a mother.

But they weren’t her children. They weren’t even her distant kin. And, she realized, with a road-to-Damascus kind of revelation, her time with the twins was drawing to a close. If Ned stayed away, CJ would have to marry.

Soon, perhaps within the next few months, some other woman would become the children’s mother. That, Molly thought, would be a blessed day for the girls and one of the worst of her own life.

“...If you find yourself in a difficult season, I urge you to remember the Israelites. Perhaps God is protecting you from a threat you can’t see.”

Molly leaned forward at the preacher’s words. Anna chose that moment to climb onto her lap. The child sighed heavily, swallowed a few times, then rested her head against Molly’s shoulder.

“If you take away nothing else from my sermon today, think on this. You aren’t alone in your troubles. God is with you, guiding your steps. You simply have to follow His lead.”

Follow His lead.

So easy to say. So very hard to do.

Molly glanced at CJ’s profile. How bleak he looked. How alone. He turned his head and something sad moved in his eyes. Yet something volatile was there, as well. He was clearly struggling with grief over his brother’s actions. He must also be angry with Ned.

How well Molly knew the feeling.

“Is service almost over?” Sarah asked, loudly enough to be heard three rows over.

Chuckling softly, CJ pulled the child onto his lap. “Almost.”

The low, deep timbre of his voice, and the way he wrapped his arms gently around the child, made Molly’s heart behave strangely, pounding in her wrists, in her ears, in her throat.

Something shifted inside her, a strange, severe sensation that took over her entire body. An awakening, of sorts, as if she were coming out of a long, unpleasant dream.

Anna wiggled against Molly, her little chest rising and falling. The sound that came out of her tiny lips was part muffled sob, part whimper. From her position on CJ’s lap, Sarah reached over and patted her sister’s back. The gesture was so sweet, so grown-up and mature, Molly’s breath clogged in her throat.

Ned, why did you abandon your children?

“As we prepare for our Founder’s Day celebration,” the preacher continued, “let us remember where we came from, but let us not dwell on the past. We must forge into the future with confidence, knowing that God is always with us. I urge you to draw close to Him, and He will draw close to you. Let us pray.”

Molly bowed her head and pulled Anna closer. A sense of purpose filled her. No more dwelling on the past. She would concentrate solely on the future. She would do so one day at a time, as she’d advised CJ to do.

The preacher dismissed the congregation with a reminder about the ice-cream social. Molly and CJ set the twins on the ground as they each gained their feet.

Anna and Sarah remained unmoving, eyes wide, panic forming in their green depths. They seemed to realize that the end of service signified the end of hope for their father’s return.

Five excruciating seconds of humming silence passed.

Molly reached out and closed her hand over Anna’s. CJ took Sarah’s. Still, no one spoke. None of them moved. They simply stood by their wooden bench, connected and silent, suspended in a wretched moment of sorrow.

People filed past them. Some smiled, a few nodded, but most didn’t even look in their direction. Molly shifted slightly, turned her head. Her gaze immediately caught a pair of soulful, dark brown eyes. CJ was staring at her, unsmiling and grim-faced and seemingly caught in a moment of indecision.

That changed once the tent cleared out. Still holding Sarah’s hand, he took charge and led their sad little group into the empty aisle. The four of them trooped wordlessly toward the cottonwood tree.

As they stood in the shade of the leafy branches, holding hands, waiting, waiting, waiting... Molly felt a bittersweet bond with each member of the Thorn family.

They can never be mine.

She could mother the girls, but she couldn’t be with CJ. He deserved more than she could give him. Molly risked a glance in his direction, muffling a sigh. He had the most remarkable face, strong and handsome. The subtle weathering from long hours outdoors in the elements made him seem more approachable. Molly wanted...

She wanted...

What did it matter what she wanted?

No point in going to a place that could never be, even in the privacy of her own mind. God had provided her a temporary position with a family in need. She would focus on the time she had in their home. One day at a time.

People moved toward the open field south of the revival tent and joined small clusters made up of friends or family or both. Gathering around large tubs of ice cream, they laughed, shared whispered confidences and slapped each other’s backs.

How could they just go about their business? Did they not realize that the lives of two little girls and their stalwart uncle were changed forever?

Molly glanced to the heavens. She wanted to pray, but no words formed in her mind. She lowered her head. Beams of light caught floating, cottony-white particles swirling from the branches of the tree overhead.

The twins remained unnaturally silent, and so very solemn. Again CJ and Molly shared a glance. But then he was no longer looking at her. His face settled into a scowl.

Following the direction of his gaze, Molly nearly groaned out loud. Mrs. Hickey, with her pinched face, tight bun and small, narrow eyes, marched straight toward them. Each step was measured and full of purpose.

Though she feared the worst, Molly forced a smile. She must be strong for the Thorn family. Family. The word stuck in her mind, nagging at her, reminding her they weren’t really hers.

Well, she would stand with them, anyway, because today...today they were hers.

* * *

CJ shifted to stand directly in front of Molly and the twins. The protective move wasn’t discreet and hardly subtle. He didn’t much care. Constance Hickey was the town’s most fearsome gossip, best known for spreading rumors based on half-truths and third hand accounts.

He knew this unpleasant fact about the woman from personal experience. Lillian had barely rejected his marriage proposal when half their community was in possession of the particulars behind her refusal. The talk had been unkind and had added an ugly blemish to the Thorn name.

CJ could weather another round of rumors and backbiting. What he couldn’t—wouldn’t—tolerate was talk about the twins or Molly.

He widened his stance, balanced on the balls of his feet and braced himself for the battle to come.

Mrs. Hickey drew to a stop.

“Ah, Mr. Thorn, good day to you and yours.” The empty pleasantry did nothing to soften her voice. The sound and pitch were as shrill as the whistling of a stiff wind through the crack in a window.

“Good day, Mrs. Hickey.” In an attempt to end the conversation before it began, he said nothing else.

A mistake. The woman filled the conversational void by making a grand show of craning her neck to the left, then the right. “I haven’t seen your brother this morning.” The diamond point of her chin settled back to center. “I do hope he isn’t ill.”

“He isn’t ill.” Not in the strictest sense of the word.

“Well, if that’s true, I must say I’m surprised he isn’t here.” She sniffed indelicately. “I’ve never known him to miss Sunday service.”

The critical comment drew a tortured sob from one of the twins. The miserable sound ripped through the air like broken glass shattering in a million pieces.

CJ moved fast, but not fast enough. By the time he’d spun around and dropped to his knees, Anna had sucked in a big gulp of air and screwed up her face. “Anna, please. Please don’t—”

She let out a piercing wail. “I want my pa.”

“Me, too.” Sarah’s composure disintegrated slower than her sister’s. It started with a wobble of her lower lip, but then her chest heaved and tears exploded from her eyes.

CJ fought for words to ease the children’s misery. He’d never seen the twins this distraught. Their wretched little faces were scrunched up tight and tears tracked down their reddened cheeks.

At a complete loss, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Who wants ice cream?”

The question managed to stun them for a fraction of a second, but then the crying commenced once again.

“I don’t want ice cream,” Anna sputtered between hiccupping sobs. “I want my pa.”

Sarah’s chin began to wobble and then firmed. Never a good sign. “Pa. He’s got to be here. He’s got to. I’ll go find him.”

She made a break for it.

CJ caught her by the sleeve. “No one’s going anywhere.”

“Oh, my. Oh, dear, I’ve upset the children.” Mrs. Hickey’s voice held a surprising amount of remorse. “You must understand that wasn’t my intention.”

Ignoring the woman, CJ hauled Sarah back to stand next to her sister. Bottom lip trembling, she stared hard at him from her tear-ravaged face.

He had no idea what to say. What to do.

What if he made matters worse?

This wasn’t his area. He was out of his element. Panic tried to take hold.

Molly’s soft, calming voice cut through his rising alarm. “Mrs. Hickey, your husband is motioning for you to join him at the ice-cream tubs.”

A rush of air whooshed out of the odious woman’s mouth. “Why, yes. Yes, I believe you are correct.”

With the welcome sound of her retreating footsteps in his ears, CJ leaned slightly forward. The gesture brought his face closer to Sarah’s.

“You can’t run off, not for any reason.” His tone brooked no argument. “I need you to stay close, understand?”

“But I have to find Pa.”

“He’s not coming home. But it’s going to be all right,” CJ added in a rush, not sure if he was saying that for the children’s benefit or his own.

“Did we do something wrong, Unca Corny?” Anna asked the question between two gasping whimpers. “Is that why Pa doesn’t like us anymore?”

“Your father loves you.” Of that CJ was certain. “He...that is...”

CJ lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. How did he explain something he didn’t understand himself?

“This isn’t your fault.” He spoke with more force than necessary. Both girls flinched. Compelling himself to speak slowly, more softly, he stated, “Your father leaving home isn’t your fault.”

His words brought on more crying. Tears fell in rivers down the girls’ cheeks. For three days, he’d managed to keep them from breaking down like this. Their misery was gut-wrenching to watch. Nothing CJ said seemed to calm them.

Cold, hard anger at Ned seeped into the very marrow of his bones. With considerable effort, he shoved the emotion aside and shot Molly a desperate look.

As if she’d been waiting for his signal, she lowered to the ground beside him. “Your uncle is absolutely correct.” She smoothed her hand over each child’s head. “The reason your father left home has nothing to do with you.”

“Will...will Pa ever come back?”

“I don’t know.” Molly touched Anna’s tear-stained cheek, then Sarah’s. “What I do know is that your uncle isn’t going anywhere.”

“That’s right,” CJ reiterated with conviction.

“You promise?” Sarah drew in a long, shuddering breath. “You promise not to leave us, not ever?”

“I will never leave you.”

The child threw her arms around his neck and clung. “I love you, Unca Corny.”

“I love you, too, sweet pea.” He tugged Anna into the hug. “And you, buttercup.”

He placed the girls in front of him, set a hand on a shoulder of each. “How about that ice cream now?”

Sarah slowly nodded, digging her toe at an exposed root beneath her foot. “That would be okay.” Sniffling, she wiped her face on her sleeve. “I guess.”

Anna glanced at her sister uncertainly, then at CJ, then back at her sister. “We like ice cream.”

Relieved they were feeling more agreeable, CJ rose. Molly stood, as well. The quiet support in her eyes soothed him all the way to his soul.

CJ accepted that he was in over his head with the girls. He also accepted that he couldn’t keep wishing Ned would change his mind and come home. Sarah and Anna were CJ’s daughters now. They would be an integral part of his life for at least another twelve years. That was a lot of tears and sloppy hair ribbons and burned oatmeal to navigate.

The prospect of all that stood before him nearly brought him to his knees. Thankfully, things weren’t as dire as they seemed on the surface. The good Lord had blessed CJ with a kind, beautiful woman willing to help him find his way.

Molly Carson Langley was a Godsend. More importantly, she’d promised to stick by him for as long as he needed her. For this one moment, that was enough.

Chapter Five

In the aftermath of the twins’ emotional outburst, ripples of raw tension moved through Molly. Concern for the children continued threatening her composure. They’d been so upset, practically inconsolable. Even now, though the prospect of ice cream had cheered them considerably, the remnants of tears still glistened on their tiny black eyelashes.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Molly slipped a glance at CJ. He looked as flummoxed as she felt. Yet despite his obvious unease, he’d confronted the explosion of little-girl panic with remarkable calm. He’d called on Molly’s assistance only as a last resort.

Molly hadn’t thought she could admire CJ any more than she already did. But watching him with his nieces had charmed her beyond measure. If she wasn’t careful her admiration could easily turn into something deeper, more lasting.

She put the thought out of her mind.

CJ asked the twins what their favorite ice cream flavor was as he steered them across the open field. Vanilla was at the top of their list. Molly agreed. Not so, CJ. “I prefer chocolate.”

He said this with such conviction the girls immediately changed their minds and insisted Molly do the same.

She refused to be swayed, which earned her a wink from CJ.

There he went, charming her again. Molly focused on her surroundings instead of the way her pulse sped up.

Children of all ages and sizes ran past their subdued little group. Boys chased one another in a rowdy game of tag. Several girls played hopscotch, while others sat on blankets with dolls. Molly’s brothers tossed a ball with the Barlow boys and a few others their same age.

At the end of the grassy field, a long table had been set up in front of large, wooden tubs being hand-cranked by men of the congregation, Molly’s father included. Her sister and their mother had joined other smiling women and were now serving up ice cream in plain, nondescript cups.

CJ reached for two filled with the twins’ new favorite flavor.

“Thank you, Unca Corny,” they said in tandem as they took the cups from him. Although their faces were still red and puffy, they dug into the ice cream with enthusiasm.

CJ watched them eat. His face showed strain, yet he managed a smile for each of the twins, then another, softer one for Molly.

For the breadth of a heartbeat she held his stare.

She saw reliability when she looked into his eyes. She also saw rough honesty, conviction and the deep code of ethics that ruled him. CJ Thorn would make some woman a wonderful husband.

There was no joy in the knowledge, only an ache of longing. The sensation plowed deeper when he picked up a cup of vanilla ice cream and offered it to her. It was such a simple thing yet spoke of his attentiveness.

Unable to imagine swallowing a single bite past the walnut-sized lump lodged in her throat, she lifted her hand, palm facing him. “None for me.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Shrugging, he set the cup back on the table, then speared his splayed fingers through his hair as he gazed at her. When he pulled his hand away, several wild strands were left sticking out.

Molly desperately wanted to reach up and smooth the black locks back in place. It was oddly distracting, this need to take care of CJ. Not as she did the twins, but as a woman took care of her man.

The thought staggered her. She deliberately glanced away, and realized her mistake when she caught her mother watching her interacting with CJ and the twins.

A familiar look of concern fell across Helen Carson’s face, or was that disapproval? Dread pulled in Molly’s stomach, twisting hard when the older woman made a jerking motion with her chin, as if to say she wanted a word with Molly in private.

She had a good idea what was on her mother’s mind. Molly had made a bold statement when she’d chosen to sit with the Thorns during service, and then had stuck by their sides ever since.

Well, this wasn’t the time for a heart-to-heart between mother and daughter. Ned’s absence had been noticed and publically remarked upon by Little Horn’s most voracious gossip.

No doubt Mrs. Hickey was already discussing the situation with her cronies and anyone else who cared to listen. Talk would inevitably turn to the twins, then to CJ, and ultimately to Molly’s role in their family. Assumptions would be made, conclusions drawn.

A hard knot of frustration balled in Molly’s stomach. No wonder her mother wanted to speak with her.

As inconspicuously as possible, Molly slipped to the other side of CJ, then made the mistake of sending another glance in her mother’s direction. She was still watching her. This time, Molly definitely saw worry in the older woman’s eyes.

Feeling marginally guilty, she started toward her mother, but paused midstep when a neighboring rancher moved directly into her path. He was clearly heading her way. Or rather, he was heading toward CJ.

What little Molly knew about Edmund McKay, which admittedly wasn’t much, she liked. He was a hardworking, dedicated rancher and one of the most respected men in the community. Somewhere in his early thirties, he’d lived in the area for nearly thirteen years. Tall, several inches over six feet, he had a strong muscular frame, light brown hair and intense green eyes that held a hawk-like sharpness.

He was a bit rough around the edges, but he was one of CJ’s closest friends, which was a large point in his favor.

Drawing to a stop at a polite distance, he took off his hat and gave Molly a kind, if somewhat tentative smile. “Good day, Mrs. Langley.”

“Good day to you, Mr. McKay.”

Looking slightly uncomfortable, he jammed his hat back on his head and fumbled for words. “It’s...ah...” He trailed off, swallowed several times, then tried again. “It’s a...beautiful day, is it not?”

Molly felt her lips twitch at the innocuous comment about the weather. Clearly, conversation wasn’t the man’s strong suit.

“Why, yes, it’s a lovely day indeed.” She brightened her smile. “I trust all is well at your ranch.”

“Very well, thank you.”

He broke eye contact, placed his palms on his knees and greeted the girls.

Anna grinned around her spoon. “Hi, Mr. McKay.”

Sarah showed off her pink bow, which he took considerable time admiring. “It’s very pretty.”

“I know!” She shoved a bite of her ice cream in her mouth. “I tied it myself,” she announced, after swallowing.

“Impressive.” He patted her shoulder, then straightened and faced CJ.

The two men had barely shaken hands before they launched into a conversation about the unpredictable cattle prices this year due to inconsistent demand in the northern states.

Molly found the conversation fascinating. She nearly joined in the discussion, but the girls chose that moment to finish their ice cream. She took their empty cups.

As she set them on the table, a movement on her left had her looking over her shoulder. Her friend Lula May Barlow stood beneath the shade of a large oak tree. Her eight-year-old daughter, Pauline, was with her.

Though Molly’s friend was also a widow that was where the similarities between them ended. Lula May had five children, ages six to seventeen. She was also beautiful and kind, with strawberry blond hair, dark blue eyes and a no-nonsense, take-charge nature Molly admired.

She waved at her friend. Lula May waved back, then beckoned to her. Molly looked in the direction of her mother, discovering she was engaged in a conversation with Beatrice Rampart.

Deciding she could use a good chat with Lula May, whose daughter looked as restless and bored as the twins had become, Molly laid a hand on CJ’s arm. “If you have no objection, I thought I’d take the girls away to play with my friend’s daughter.”

He appeared to consider her request with a hint of indecision.

Giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, she hitched her chin toward where Lula May and Pauline waited. “We’ll be right over there.”

“Ah, yes.” He nodded at Lula May. “That’ll be fine.”

Molly dropped her hand. “It was lovely to see you again, Mr. McKay.”

The rancher tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

“Come on, girls.” Molly placed a smile in her voice and took hold of their hands. “Let’s go say hi to Mrs. Barlow and Pauline.”

The twins declared this the grandest of grand ideas. They adored Pauline Barlow, as did Molly. Lula May’s only daughter was a sweet girl with bright red hair, a sunny disposition and eyes the same indigo blue as her mother’s.

Seeming as eager as the twins, Pauline hurried to meet them halfway across a grassy knoll, her enthusiasm propelling her forward.

“Hello, girls!” She barely stopped to take a breath before asking, “Want to play jacks with me?”

“I do.” Anna all but vibrated with excitement. “I really, truly do.”

Sarah frowned at her sister. “You don’t even know how to play jacks.”

“Neither do you.”

“I can learn.”

Anna stuck out her bottom lip. “Well, I can, too.”

Undaunted by the girls arguing, Pauline stepped between them. “I’ll teach you both how to play. I’m really good, just ask anyone.”

Once she was given permission by Molly and her mother, Pauline led the girls to a flat spot on the other side of the tree, placed a wooden board on the ground and got down to the business of teaching the twins how to play jacks.

Not until the three were chattering happily away did Lula May take Molly’s hand and hold on tight. “How are you? And I won’t take a pat answer. I want the truth.”

Something in her friend’s eyes put Molly instantly on guard. “I’m...fine.”

Looking far from convinced, Lula May dropped her hand, but continued holding Molly’s stare. She tried not to react to the searching glance.

Her friend was known for being determined and direct. Sometimes too direct, as evidenced by her next words. “There’s talk going around about Ned and—” she leaned in close and lowered her voice to a hushed whisper “—it’s not very kind.”

Dread swam through Molly’s mind, thundered inside her ears. She shouldn’t be surprised the gossip about Ned had spread so quickly. Constance Hickey enjoyed spreading rumors, the faster the better.

Molly noted ever so gratefully that the girls were deep in to learning the new game. Nevertheless, she dropped her voice to the same low tone as her friend. “What have you heard?”

Darting a worried glance at the twins, Lula May sighed. “Talk is going around that he left town without a single word of warning. And, I’m sorry to say—” she shot another quick glance at the girls “—there’s speculation he isn’t coming back.”

Molly stared dully at her friend, dismayed at how detailed the gossip had become already. CJ and the twins had enough to worry about without having to fight off the stigma of rumors.

It was so unfair.

“I know it’s been rough for Ned since Penelope died,” Lula May said, not unkindly. “But I can’t imagine he would up and leave his daughters without a word.”

In that, at least, Molly could set the record straight. “He left a note.”

“Oh. Oh, my.” Lula May’s hand went to her throat. “Then it’s true. He’s really gone.”

In quick, halting terms, Molly gave her friend the bare bones about Ned’s departure. She stuck to the basics and didn’t mention the whiskey, or that he’d taken CJ’s prize stallion.

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.”

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