Stand-In Rancher Daddy

by Renee Ryan

  She would never know what it felt like to watch her husband’s love and admiration diminish with each passing month she failed to conceive a child. And because she would never know those things, she could never truly understand her daughter’s despair.

  Molly jumped to her feet and, stifling a cry of pain, rushed out of the room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thoughts of Molly filled CJ’s head for the next several days. Courting her was proving alarmingly difficult. Part of the problem was logistical, primarily due to the limited free time at his disposal. More cattle had gone missing, this time from Edmund’s ranch. There was also the extensive prep work for the barn raising. Not to mention running the Triple-T.

  All these things would have been surmountable, if not for the stubborn woman herself. Plain and simple, Molly was avoiding him. And not doing a very subtle job of it, either. She seemed determined to prevent spending time alone with him, resorting to any means possible. She consulted with Cookie every evening about how to make johnnycakes and other recipes that were her personal specialties.

  She kept the girls close to her side, too close. She even pulled Roscoe into their inner circle, which pleased the cow dog to no end. It was as if Molly was intentionally raising barriers to prevent CJ from courting her.

  On Sunday morning, the day of the first official meeting of local ranch owners, he woke from a fitful sleep. Groggy and feeling off balance, he was no longer confident he would succeed in his mission to win Molly’s heart.

  Giving his nieces his undivided attention that morning helped lighten his dark mood. CJ got them dressed, fed and loaded into one of the Triple-T wagons with minimum fuss, a far cry from the early days after Ned left home. Throughout each task their happy chattering rolled over him, eventually restoring his own joy.

  With them flanking him on the bench, CJ drove into Little Horn for church service with his tenacity firmly in place. He would win Molly’s affection.

  Patience was his greatest weapon. He would wield it with the force of a mighty warrior.

  “I can’t wait to tell Miss Molly you made oatmeal this morning and didn’t burn it even a little,” Sarah announced in her sweet, little-girl voice. “She’s going to be so proud of you.”

  Feeling rather proud of himself, he steered the wagon to a halt by the revival tent, set the brake and smiled down at his niece. “She’ll not believe you.”

  “Yes, she will.” Grinning broadly, she kissed him on the nose. “I love you, Unca Corny.”

  The last remnants of his gloominess disappeared. “I love you, too, buttercup.”

  As he assisted the child to the ground, then followed suit with her sister, he marveled at how far the three of them had come. He felt like a real father, rather than a temporary stand-in for Ned. CJ owed most of his success to Molly and would probably never tire of telling her just how grateful he was for her influence on his life.

  Imagine how far we’ll go as a family, how much happiness and joy we’ll experience.

  He and Molly would have a good life together, once the stubborn woman accepted his marriage proposal.

  Laughing, Anna tossed her head, the ribbons in her hair fluttering in the wind, and motioned for CJ to come closer. As her sister had done seconds before, she kissed him on the nose, then said, “I love you, too, Unca Corny.”

  With no small amount of wonder, he hugged her close. “I love you, sweet pea.”

  Taking each child by the hand, he turned toward the tent, but paused after two steps and studied the distant sky. A wall of dark, menacing clouds churned in the west. The promise of a storm sounded in the distant rolling thunder. With the barn raising scheduled for the next day, CJ prayed the rain would blow through quickly and they could start construction as planned.

  He hustled the twins toward the shelter of the tent.

  “Hi, Miss Molly!” Anna waved at the lone figure standing by the tree where they met every Sunday—their tree, as CJ thought of it.

  He briefly wondered if they would continue the tradition of sitting together during service if Molly refused his suit yet again. Nothing would be the same without her in his and the twins’ lives.

  He must win her hand.

  Waving back at Sarah, a smile dancing in her eyes, Molly started toward them.

  Impatient as always, the twins ran ahead to meet her.

  CJ covered the distance at a slower rate. He could only stare at the beautiful picture Molly made, as striking in her Sunday best as she was in her everyday work clothes. She’d twisted her hair in some sort of complicated style atop her head and wore a dress in a pale, pretty blue that matched her eyes. To CJ’s way of thinking, she looked like a dream come true.

  His breath caught at the sight of Molly encircling the girls in her arms and pulling them close. She was so natural with them, so unconsciously affectionate. They were equally at ease with her. In a matter of weeks, she’d become the mother they’d been missing.

  CJ shouldn’t think of her that way. He shouldn’t allow himself to feel this sense of amazement over a simple interaction he’d seen a dozen times in the weeks since Ned had taken off. Then again, why not?

  She was going to be his wife one day. He was that determined.

  Molly’s feminine voice was musical this morning, capturing CJ’s senses, running across his heart like a caress. He wasn’t supposed to feel this connected to a woman who might never be his.

  She could still turn you down again. It would be foolish of CJ to forget that Molly had already rejected him more than once. Anything between them was quite possibly doomed.

  Yet she pulled at places in his soul no other woman had touched. CJ cared for Molly deeply. He cared so much it scared him. If she refused his next offer of marriage, he would ask again. And again. And again.

  “You’re sitting with us, aren’t you, Miss Molly?”

  “Of course I’m sitting with you, Sarah.”

  With that decided, the four of them stepped into the tent and found their usual seats in the back row. Only after they were settled, with CJ on one end of the small bench, Molly on the other, the twins in between, did he realize they were sitting in the same order as they had the last two Sundays. They’d fallen into a pattern.

  As if they were a family.

  Even more telling, neither Sarah nor Anna had asked about their father this morning. They’d rarely mentioned his name in the past week.

  The girls were slowly forgetting Ned, or at least getting over the loss of him in their daily lives. They were starting to turn to CJ. He swallowed back the well of emotion rising in his throat.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance as Mrs. Hickey took her place at the piano and pounded out the first bars of the opening song. With her characteristic smile, Molly handed CJ a hymnal.

  His voice rough as gravel, he thanked her.

  Three hymns later, Brandon Stillwater took his place at the pulpit. Unusually somber, he looked out over the congregation, then began his sermon with a bang.

  “Sin.” A clap of thunder punctuated the word. Lips twisting at an ironic angle, he continued. “Sin. It has the power to devastate individual lives, divide families and ruin entire communities.”

  He paused, letting his words sink in. “Our God is merciful. He forgives sin, all sin, even the sins we keep secretly hidden in our hearts. However—and this is important, so lean in...” He waited a beat. “Though the Lord forgives, He does not always take away the consequences of our sin.”

  CJ shifted in his seat, glanced around the congregation. It was clear the preacher was calling out the cattle rustler and arsonist, as surely as if he’d pointed a finger at the culprit.

  Out of the corner of his eye CJ saw Molly sit up straighter, her lips pressed tightly together. Apparently, she’d come to a similar conclusion.

  “The Lord c
ommands us to love one another and to do no harm. Thievery, deliberate acts of destruction, the abandonment of a loved one, these wicked acts hurt not just the victims but also our entire community.”

  A collective hush filled the area. This was serious talk and not everyone appeared comfortable.

  “As we deal with the destruction that crime has brought to Little Horn, I urge all of us to consider our own actions. Think through the consequences of our sins, and what our choices mean to those around us.”

  He paused again, ran his gaze over the flock, stayed silent a moment.

  CJ looked around the congregation again, wondering if the cattle thief was among them. The arsonist? He heard a rustle of material as Molly shifted in her seat. He caught her gaze over the children’s heads. She gave him a sad, shaky smile.

  After his short discourse on sin, the preacher turned the rest of his sermon to God’s merciful capacity for forgiveness. “No sin is too great that it can’t be forgiven. With our God, all things are possible.”

  Brandon continued speaking, urging the community to draw together in this difficult time. He then called for all able-bodied men and women to join in the effort to rebuild the Carsons’ barn. He concluded the sermon with a prayer, or rather a petition for God to bring healing to their community.

  The congregation rose to sing the closing hymn.

  Having already worked it out with Molly that she would take the twins to her parents’ ranch while he and Edmund conducted the cattlemen’s meeting, CJ kissed each girl goodbye. Then he lifted his head and concentrated on Molly.

  Her lips parted softly.

  It took everything in him not to kiss her, too. He refrained, primarily because Constance Hickey was eyeing them from the crowd. He blessed the odious woman with a hard glare.

  She didn’t even flinch.

  Shaking his head, CJ returned his attention to Molly. “I’ll meet you out at your parents’ ranch later this afternoon.”

  He turned to go.

  She stopped him with a brief touch to his forearm. “I’ll be praying your meeting goes well.”

  “Appreciate that.”

  Two seconds later, he turned away. He caught Edmund’s eye and angled his head toward the front of the tent. If all went according to plan, they would have a local ranchers’ association before nightfall.

  * * *

  Molly watched CJ saunter to the front of the tent, where he met up with Edmund. She wanted to listen to what the two men had to say to the other ranchers. But CJ had left her in charge of his nieces and a meeting to discuss hunting down a cattle thief was no place for four-year-olds, especially ones already showing signs of restlessness.

  Besides, there was a storm moving in. She’d be wise to hurry home.

  Casting a final glance at the two men, she lifted up a prayer for success and then guided the girls away. Her constant supervision of Anna and Sarah no longer drew raised eyebrows from other Little Horn residents. Well, except for Mrs. Hickey’s. That, Molly supposed, was to be expected. The woman lived for drumming up gossip.

  Ignoring the woman’s piercing scowl, Molly helped the girls into her family’s wagon. Roy and Donny made room for them. She’d just gotten them settled when Lula May marched over. “Molly, a word, if you please.”

  With Daisy showing the girls her latest sewing creation, a lace cap with embroidered flowers around the edges, Molly stepped away from the wagon and approached her stone-faced friend. “Yes?”

  “Do you have any idea what that meeting is about?” She looked pointedly toward the tent.

  “I...” Molly blinked at her friend, wondering why she was distressed. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do know. The men in our community are banding together to help the sheriff catch the cattle thief.”

  “Oh.” Lula May’s scowl disappeared. “That’s actually a good idea.”

  Molly had thought the same thing when CJ had told her.

  The meeting appeared to be under way, with CJ and Edmund doing all the talking, while the others found seats in the first two rows of benches. A clap of thunder had Molly and Lula May issuing each other a hasty farewell, then separating.

  Molly lifted up one last prayer for the meeting’s success before settling on the wagon’s front seat with her mother.

  * * *

  After Edmund called the meeting to order, then explained the initial idea behind the association, CJ took over. “We hope to model our organization after the stock-raisers’ association in Graham. Due to their members’ vigilance, cattle theft has dropped dramatically.”

  Bo Stillwater’s hand went up. “How much?”

  “Seventy-five percent.”

  “Impressive,” Bo allowed.

  Other ranchers nodded.

  Clyde Parker raised his hand next. “You got a system in place for cataloging the ranches in the area and a description of each brand?”

  “Not yet,” CJ admitted. “But it’s an important first step toward becoming an official association.”

  “I’ll do it,” Clyde offered, giving CJ a moment’s pause. For a man who’d initially fought the idea of an association, he certainly seemed eager to participate now.

  “Thank you, Clyde. That would be a big help.”

  Men sitting near the crusty rancher added their thanks by way of hearty backslaps.

  Out of the corner of his eye, CJ saw Lula May Barlow watching them from her wagon. He couldn’t read her expression, so wasn’t sure if she was upset or simply curious. CJ considered motioning her over.

  Then he remembered that Edmund had insisted Lula May wouldn’t be interested in joining an association of cattle ranchers. She owned only a few cows and focused most of her efforts on raising horses. With his thoughts consumed with other matters, CJ hadn’t argued the point.

  Now, he wasn’t sure they should have excluded her.

  Deciding to discuss the matter with Edmund again before their next meeting, if there was a next meeting, CJ returned to the subject at hand.

  “It’s become clear we have a cattle rustler in the area and possibly an arsonist. We’re unsure if we’re dealing with one man or several. Either way, we need to band together to fight this menace. Jeb—” he motioned the other man forward “—you want to take it from here?”

  The sheriff laid out the need for policing the region and beating back the present threat of cattle theft. “I can’t be in two places at the same time.”

  He went on to explain his ideas for keeping an eye on the various properties, which mostly amounted to neighbors watching out for neighbors. “Eventually, I’ll want to train you on the finer points of peacekeeping.”

  “Why would we need to know something like that?” Cecil Sorenson asked.

  “The association would assist in other ranch-related property loss aside from cattle,” CJ explained, moving to stand next to Jeb. “On that note, I propose the rebuilding of the Carsons’ barn be our first priority.”

  The ranchers gave their collective agreement.

  “Preparations are already under way. I’ve enlisted help from some of the youth in town with the ground cleanup.” He explained about his idea for a Young Ranchers program, then added, “Once we apprehend the cattle thief we’ll get the boys out on the range and teach them some real ranching skills. But for now, it’s important that you know I’ve been impressed with all five boys’ commitment to working hard.”

  Pastor Stillwater offered his help with the program.

  CJ thanked him for his support. “John,” he said to Molly’s father. “Can you fill us in on the preparations you’ve already done for the barn raising, and the tasks that still need completing?”

  The older man stood. “The plans are drawn up and the materials purchased. The ground is cleared and the lumber laid in, with most of the hardware sorted, as well. C
J and I will do a walk-through this afternoon to make sure there’s nothing we’ve missed.”

  The rest of the meeting was devoted to last-minute organizational issues. It took less than an hour for CJ to cover all the points. He appointed crew chiefs and assigned the critical jobs of joinery and dowelling to men with the necessary skills.

  When he was finished, Edmund once again took over the meeting. “Now that we’ve presented our idea of an association and laid out the benefits, I’d like to see a show of hands. All those in favor of forming an official cattle raisers’ association...?”

  Every hand went up.

  Edmund adjourned the meeting just as the first drops of rain hit the ground.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The morning of the barn raising arrived with a considerable amount of noise and commotion. Before the first light of dawn had barely staggered over the horizon, Molly heard the creak of wagon wheels slogging across the muddy land. Neighbors calling to one another accompanied the sound.

  The work would soon begin.

  Eager to add her effort to the cause, she dressed quickly and made her way downstairs. Momentarily forgoing her morning coffee, she stepped outside, and into what could only be described as controlled chaos.

  So many people, she thought, all here to help my family.

  She was quite literally stricken speechless by the outpouring of support.

  Just last night, her father had claimed it would take the entire community pulling together to raise the barn in a single day. As wagons pulled up, and even more approached from the distance, Molly realized the entire community had shown up.

  The rain from the day before had come in fierce and vicious, and had left with equal speed less than an hour later, giving the hot Texas sun hours to burn away some of the water, not all, and certainly not the scent of wet ash or soot.

  The fragrance of freshly cut lumber, sawdust and iron, leather and tar, wafted over the putrid odor of charred wood. Molly leveled her shoulders, breathed in a lungful of the pungent air.