Stand-In Rancher Daddy

by Renee Ryan

  “You should be. You spend every day at the Triple-T, caring for two little girls who aren’t your children. Your motives are pure, your father and I have no doubts about that. But others in town won’t be so understanding or willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your reputation will be in tatters if you’re not careful.”

  Molly thought of the twins, of their dear, sweet little faces and the love she felt for them. She also thought of CJ and his commitment to his nieces, a commitment she shared. Her favorite Bible verse from Colossians came to mind. And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men.

  What did it matter what people thought of her or her motives, or that she spent all her days at the Triple-T ranch? She was caring for motherless children, serving the Lord in a way that filled her with joy and satisfaction. “My reputation will survive.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.”

  No, but she didn’t much care, either. She would never marry again. She’d already let one man down and he’d grown resentful and bitter. Her last days with George had been full of strife and accusations. Molly wouldn’t put another man through that agony.

  But that wasn’t the point.

  “You would wish me to abandon two motherless girls because of what people may or may not say about me?”

  Her mother’s lips turned down. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “Isn’t it?” Molly held up a hand to keep her from speaking. “I’m a twenty-three-year-old widow with several years of experience behind me. I am not some naive young girl venturing into the unknown. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  Too late, a tiny voice whispered in her head.

  “I’m grateful you care so much, truly I am, Mama. But the consequences of my actions are mine alone to bear.”

  “That doesn’t make me worry any less. If anything, it makes me worry more.”

  “Well then, you’ll be happy to know my time with the Thorns is coming to an end.”

  “You seem certain.”

  “CJ has plans to marry soon. And before you ask, no, he hasn’t chosen a bride yet.”

  “Oh, Molly, do you think you and he could—”

  “No, I do not.” There was no reason to let her mother finish the thought. “When CJ does eventually marry, it won’t be to me.”

  Her mother’s sympathetic sigh and soft squeeze to her arm proved she understood the situation far better than she should. “Oh, Molly, I’m so sorry.”

  “As am I.”

  If she allowed the conversation to continue, and the topic of her marriage to George was broached, there would be no turning back. At some point, her mother would figure out the truth—that Molly’s childless marriage hadn’t been by choice.

  She simply wasn’t ready for that discussion.

  Will I ever be ready?

  Perhaps. One day.

  But not tonight.

  With nothing more to say, she bade her mother good-night and walked away before the woman could ask the endless questions shimmering in her eyes.

  The next morning, Molly left her parents’ house before the sun rose. She didn’t speak to her mother and she didn’t leave atop Sadie’s back. Since she would be returning later that morning for the quilting bee, Molly borrowed one of the ranch wagons so she could carry the twins back with her.

  The closer she drew to the property line separating her parents’ ranch from the Triple-T, the more agitated her breathing became. She had no idea what to expect when she arrived.

  Would she receive a frosty reception from CJ? Or would he pretend nothing had changed between them?

  She couldn’t decide which response would be worse, and spent the remaining portion of her journey preparing for either scenario with equal parts dread.

  A happy, barking dog greeted her just outside the barn.

  Pulling the wagon to a halt, Molly set the brake and hopped to the ground. “Good morning, Roscoe.”

  The black-and-white cow dog trotted over to her and gave her a big doggy grin. His tail slapped like a whip as he danced around her. Enchanted, she ruffled the animal’s fur, scratched him behind his ears. “Silly, beautiful, boy.”

  Roscoe rewarded her for the compliment with a lick across her knuckles.

  At the sound of a high-pitched whistle from Cookie, the dog immediately forgot all about Molly—fickle creature—and ran off to eat his breakfast.

  Standing just inside barn, CJ’s foreman called out to her. “Good morning, Miss Molly.”

  “Good morning, Duke.”

  A man somewhere in his early fifties, with a stocky build and a bowlegged stance, he flashed her a wide, kind grin from behind his salt-and-pepper beard.

  “Going to be a hot one,” she remarked, breathing in the thick Texas air. “Make sure you and the boys drink enough water while out on the range today.”

  He tipped his hat in a gesture that was becoming familiar. “Yes, ma’am.”

  With nothing more to say, she set off for the main house. Her feet were weighted with nerves, making each step seem slow and awkward. She dismissed her disquiet with a shake of her head and marched up the porch steps. Drawing in a lungful of air, she pushed open the door.

  CJ met her on the threshold, his heart-stopping face registering a look of unmistakable relief. “You’re here.”

  “Of course I’m here.” Had he thought she wouldn’t show up? She’d made a promise to stay on as long as she was needed. She would not go back on her word. “The girls and I have a big day planned.”

  “The quilting bee.” His gaze slid over her face before he stepped aside to let her pass. “They’ve been chattering about it since they woke.”

  Molly paused midstep. “Anna and Sarah are already awake?”

  “And dressed for the day.” A look of masculine pride crossed his face, followed by stubborn determination that said far more than words.

  “You didn’t encounter any problems last night or this morning?” she asked.

  “A few.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he was used to all the rigors of raising young girls and didn’t need Molly’s help as he had in the past. The past being yesterday. Before she’d turned down his marriage proposal.

  CJ was making it perfectly clear, and not being very subtle about it, that the end of her time in his home was drawing near. Her stomach roiled and she thought she might be sick. It wouldn’t be long before another woman became his wife.

  How would Molly ever bear it? She would find a way. But not today. No, she wouldn’t have to face her replacement today.

  Still, she hated this new strain between her and CJ. In that, at least, she could attempt to form a truce.

  “About last night.” The words rushed out of her mouth before she could censor them. “I never thanked you properly.”

  “Thanked me?” His face went blank. “For what?”

  “For asking me to marry you. I consider it a great honor that you think me worthy of becoming your wife.”

  It was the exact wrong thing to say.

  Up went the invisible wall he’d erected the previous evening. They’d become strangers again and Molly had only herself to blame. But now that she’d begun...

  “My refusal of your marriage proposal wasn’t about you.” She needed him to know that. “You are a good, decent man who will make some woman a fine husband someday.”

  “I appreciate you saying so.” He gave her a long, silent scrutiny, then jammed his hat on his head. “The boys and I will be riding the fence line that borders the McKay place. Cookie will assist you if a concern arises today.”

  And with that Molly had just been summarily dismissed. “I understan
d.”

  CJ spoke without looking back. “Goodbye, Molly.”

  The finality of his tone made her wince. Without saying another word, he shut the door behind him with a soft, deliberate click.

  In the deafening silence that followed, Molly puffed out her cheeks and whispered, “Goodbye to you, too, CJ.”

  * * *

  Hat pulled low over his eyes, CJ stalked down the porch steps. There was a dull drumming at the base of his skull and the cause was Molly Carson Langley. The memory of their conversation from last night made his shoulders knot up. Not only had she turned down his marriage proposal, she’d offered to help him find a wife.

  He didn’t need help choosing a woman to marry. He’d already found her. He wanted Molly.

  Unfortunately, Molly did not want him.

  CJ was too much of a man, with far too much pride, to pretend her rejection didn’t hurt. At least he knew where he stood with her. There was peace in that. Oh, but wait, apparently, she liked him. Rather a lot.

  Just not enough.

  They’d turned a corner in their relationship and couldn’t go back to the way things were before he’d proposed. The humbling experience of her rejection wasn’t something he wanted to revisit, ever.

  Twice now he’d had his marriage proposal turned down. Lillian had refused him because of the man he was. Molly, still clearly in love with her dead husband, had rejected CJ because of the man he wasn’t.

  George Langley must have been a remarkable husband.

  CJ could never compete with a dead man. Nor would he try.

  Finding another woman to marry was the wisest course of action. The twins required stability, something that had been sorely lacking in their lives since Penelope took ill.

  A stubborn part of him refused to give up yet. Molly was still the mother CJ wanted for Sarah and Anna. She’d given them a glimpse of the family they could have. Molly was the answer to CJ’s dilemma. He knew it deep in his gut.

  He also knew there was something not quite right about her refusal to marry him. Something she wasn’t telling him, something that made her sad and wistful.

  Perhaps she simply needed time and distance. CJ would give her both. She would either come around. Or she wouldn’t.

  In the meantime, he had a ranch to run.

  Once he and his men were mounted up, he led them in a south-by-southeast direction, where his property bordered Lula May’s spread. The hum of conversation flowing among his ranch hands was familiar and soothing, a balm to CJ’s riotous thoughts.

  Atop Scout’s back, he took a deep, cleansing breath and let the rest of his frustration drain out of him. He always did his best thinking on the back of a horse, even if that horse wasn’t Thunder.

  He felt the loss of the black stallion acutely. CJ had trained the animal from his days as a wild, unruly colt. If CJ thought too hard about why he wasn’t riding Thunder, he would grow angry with Ned all over again.

  That would accomplish nothing.

  His brother would either come home or he wouldn’t.

  With a long, sweeping glance, CJ took in the land he called home. Working the range had been his redemption in the days following Lillian’s harsh words of rejection.

  Today, once again, the rolling hills and craggy bluffs provided a much-needed diversion from his gloomy mood after Molly’s rebuff.

  At the fence line, he and his men spread out, looking for weaknesses and defects in the barbed wire stretched between evenly planted posts. A few minutes into the task, a frayed wire caught his eye. CJ dismounted for a closer look.

  The Texas heat punched like a fist. He pulled on his work gloves and meticulously inspected the steel fencing wire, careful to avoid the sharp, twisted points arranged at strategic intervals along the individual strands.

  Though barbed wire was tricky to work with, it was inexpensive and highly effective at keeping his cattle from wandering off the Triple-T.

  Twenty feet down the line, four posts in a row tilted to the left. The wire strands were uneven in tautness, as well. Some lay flat on the ground.

  “Here,” he called out to his men.

  The ranch hands hustled over and the four of them went to work mending the section.

  They were well into the process of resetting the posts and fixing the wire when a lone rider came barreling in their direction at a fast, steady gait. CJ immediately recognized his friend and neighbor. He couldn’t see Edmund’s face, but the way he pushed his horse indicated trouble.

  Pulling the animal to a stop on his side of the fence, Edmund swung to the ground and looped the reins over a low-hanging tree branch. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure.” CJ finished securing a wire to the line post, then dug a bandanna from his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his face. “What do you need?”

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  CJ braced himself for the bad news. “What sort of problem?”

  “Cattle have gone missing from the Sorenson ranch.”

  “Gone missing,” CJ repeated. “You mean wandered off or stolen?”

  Edmund’s usually mild blue eyes went hard. “Stolen.”

  The word was a solid blow to the gut. Cold anger began to stir inside him, outdistancing all other emotions. Cattle rustling was one of the worst crimes a man could commit in these parts. Outside of horse theft, of course.

  His mind racing, CJ had a bad feeling about this turn of events. He paced a few steps, then a few more, then stopped cold. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Early this morning Cecil Sorenson and his foreman rode out to where his herd was grazing. The herd was decidedly smaller than the day before.”

  “That’s not completely unusual.” Cattle roamed away from the herd, often in groups of five or ten. Like the other ranchers in the area, CJ and his men spent much of May and June rounding up strays. “How much smaller was his herd?”

  “Sorenson estimates he’s missing somewhere between twenty-five and thirty head.”

  A large amount, but it still wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that they’d wandered off.

  As if reading his mind, Edmund added the final blow. “The wire fencing was sliced through with calculated precision, then pulled back together to hide the hole.”

  “And yet Sorenson found it?”

  “With ease, and that’s the odd part. The rewiring was a shoddy job at best, while the initial cuts in the fence line had been perfectly aligned.”

  “Maybe the thief was in a hurry to get away,” CJ suggested. “And that’s why he didn’t take the same care rewiring the fence as he had cutting it.”

  “Maybe.” Edmund shrugged. “Or maybe he was making a point and wanted Sorenson to know someone had taken his cows.”

  Either way, it was a deliberate act of theft.

  “Sheriff Fuller thinks it’s someone local, or someone who knows the area well. Maybe a disgruntled ranch hand or someone with a vendetta against Sorenson or...”

  Edmund left the rest unsaid, his silence significantly hanging in the still, hot air. CJ immediately thought of his brother, of how far he’d sunk before taking off altogether. Surely Ned wouldn’t resort to cattle rustling to earn a living. Their father might have been a drunk, but they’d been raised knowing the difference between right and wrong.

  Thorns were known for many things, but lying, stealing and cheating weren’t on the list.

  Caught between disbelief and fury, CJ pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed his hunch was unfounded.

  “It’s too soon to start speculating. The thief could be anyone.” By the look in Edmund’s eyes, CJ guessed his friend’s mind had gone in the same direction his had.

  Edmund reached for his horse’s reins. “I have to alert others in the area.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”<
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  CJ watched his friend ride off. Left alone with his doubts and suspicions, his chest rose and fell in fast, hard bursts. He couldn’t stop his mind from circling back to one awful thought. Any man capable of stealing his own brother’s horse would be just as likely to grab a few head of cattle that didn’t belong to him.

  The brother that CJ had known all his life would never sink so low. But that man would never have stolen CJ’s horse, or abandoned his daughters.

  Plain and simple, Ned could be the culprit. It would be yet another strike against the Thorn name. CJ wasn’t concerned about what that meant for him. But the twins... Their lives would never be the same if their father was caught rustling cattle.

  A fly buzzed around his ear. CJ flicked it away with a hard sweep of his hand. He was getting ahead of himself, putting two and two together before he knew all the facts.

  One day at a time, as Molly said, which translated to facing one problem at a time, accomplishing one task at a time.

  At the moment, CJ had a fence to mend.

  Chapter Nine

  After ensuring the twins were settled in their game of jacks with Pauline Barlow, Molly took her place at the quilting frame. Careful to avoid eye contact with her mother, she sat in the empty chair between her sister and Lula May, then scooted her legs beneath the unfinished quilt. Seven other women were already hard at work.

  Picking up her needle, Molly pasted a cheery smile on her face and got down to the business of sewing. A riot of gloomy emotions churned inside her. A marriage proposal should be cause for celebration with family and friends, especially when the marriage proposal came from an honorable, upright man.

  Molly only felt guilt and disappointment.

  Instead of sharing happy news with women of her closest acquaintance, Molly held her tongue, tucking yet another secret deep in her heart.

  A great chasm now stood between her and CJ. He’d been different this morning, cautious and distant. She could hardly measure the resulting pain his behavior caused.

  Her hands started shaking and she had to pause a moment or risk creating a crooked row of stitches. As she gathered her calm, Molly proceeded to study the quilt stretched across the frame her father had made last week in anticipation.