The Rancher's Family Wish

by Lois Richer

  A Home for His Heart

  All Tanner Johns ever wanted was a place to call home. After inheriting Wranglers Ranch, Tanner is determined to carry on with his guardian’s legacy and turn it into a camp for troubled kids. Widow Sophie Armstrong is just as focused on her goals—and on raising her two young children…alone. Meeting the rugged cowboy changes everything. Tanner is a natural with her kids, and he lightens Sophie’s load in ways she couldn’t have imagined. But as the shadows in his past come between them, Tanner must convince Sophie he’s a man she can count on—for keeps.

  “It’s Mr. Cowboy,” Beth yelled, racing to the door.

  Then to Sophie’s utter dismay, her daughter said to Tanner, “Houston, we have a problem.”

  Tall, lanky and lean, with wide denim-clad shoulders that looked perfect for leaning on, Tanner Johns was every woman’s fantasy cowboy.

  Not her fantasy cowboy, of course, but—

  “What’s the problem, er, Houston?” His gaze rested on Sophie.

  Sophie couldn’t explain because there was something wrong with her breathing. As in, she couldn’t. Then Davy came racing down the stairs, tripped on the perpetually loose runner at the bottom tread and tumbled headlong into the cowboy’s arms. Tanner caught her son and held on just long enough to make sure Davy could stand on his own.

  “Something I said?” he joked, winking at her.

  The man winked at her! The control Sophie had almost recovered vanished. She figured she probably looked like a beached fish, gulping for air. Stupidly, she wished she’d had time to fix her hair.

  Where’s your independence now?

  Lois Richer loves traveling, swimming and quilting, but mostly she loves writing stories that show God’s boundless love for His precious children. As she says, “His love never changes or gives up. It’s always waiting for me. My stories feature imperfect characters learning that love doesn’t mean attaining perfection. Love is about keeping on keeping on.” You can contact Lois via email, loisricher@gmail.com, or on Facebook (Facebook.com/LoisRicherAuthor).

  Books by Lois Richer

  Love Inspired

  Wranglers Ranch

  The Rancher’s Family Wish

  Family Ties

  A Dad for Her Twins

  Rancher Daddy

  Gift-Wrapped Family

  Accidental Dad

  Northern Lights

  North Country Hero

  North Country Family

  North Country Mom

  North Country Dad

  Healing Hearts

  A Doctor’s Vow

  Yuletide Proposal

  Perfectly Matched

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  THE RANCHER’S

  FAMILY WISH

  Lois Richer

  Fan into flame the gift of God that is within you.

  —2 Timothy 1:6

  For James,

  who teaches me about love and trust.

  Contents

  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

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from The Single Dad’s Redemption by Roxanne Rustand

  Chapter One

  “Mr. Cowboy!”

  Lost in thoughts of his upcoming meeting, Tanner Johns barely registered the call of the child standing outside the door of the Tucson grocery store he’d just left.

  “Hey, Mr. Cowboy!”

  When the call came a third time, Tanner realized the girl had to be addressing him since there was no one else in the parking lot wearing cowboy boots and a Stetson, no one else who could even remotely be called a cowboy. He walked toward the child, taken aback by her extraordinary beauty. The piercing scrutiny of intense blue eyes enhanced her ivory skin and flaxen hair. He was a few feet away when he noticed the obvious signs of Down syndrome.

  “Were you calling me?” Tanner glanced around to be certain.

  “Uh-huh.” Her smile made her skin glow.

  “Why?” Tanner automatically smiled back. This little cutie was a looker with a grin that would melt the most weather-beaten hide.

  “’Cause you’re a cowboy and cowboys have ranches.” Her bell-like voice carried on January’s breeze as it whispered across blacktop shimmering in the Arizona heat.

  Several people turned to study them. After a glimpse at Tanner their focus veered to the child, benevolent smiles widening when they spied the big cage at her feet. Wait a minute—rabbits? How had he missed that?

  “A ranch is a good place to keep bunnies,” she said.

  “Uh, how many are there?” Tanner couldn’t decipher one ball of fur from another.

  “Only eight.” She was probably five or six, he guessed. Sadness filled her voice as she explained, “We can’t keep them anymore.”

  “I see.” In spite of Tanner’s reluctance to get involved, her innocence evoked a memory long buried inside him. Had he ever been that guileless?

  “What happened to your face, Mr. Cowboy?” The question was open and honest. Tanner liked her steady stare better than others’ quick gawks. Empathy beamed out from her blue eyes. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little,” he admitted. “I scratched myself on a wire fence.”

  “People stare at you.” She nodded. “They stare at me, too. It’s ’cause we’re different.”

  “They stare at you because you’re beautiful.” Affection for this spunky child flared inside him. “And because you’re special.” He meant her Down syndrome.

  “I’m not special.” She shook her blond head firmly. “I’m just me. Mama says I’m exactly the way God made me.” The happiness wreathing her round face made Tanner wish he’d had a mother like hers. His brain skittered away from that sensitive subject.

  “Where is your mom?” Tanner glanced around curiously.

  “Getting my brother.” She pointed to a young woman with glossy, shoulder-length hair. It was clear the mom was trying to reason with a reluctant boy whom she held by one arm as she drew him forward. Her brightly flowered sundress billowed around her slim figure. She looked too young to have a daughter and a son. “That’s Davy. He gets mad. A lot.”

  “What’s your name?” Tanner forced his gaze from the brunette’s lovely face to the girl in front of him. Mother and daughter shared translucent skin that seemed to bloom from within, but that’s where the resemblance between the cute mom and this blonde sweetheart ended.

  “I’m Beth. I’m almost six.” When she grinned, dimples appeared in her apple cheeks.

  “Pleased to meet you, Beth.” Tanner held out a hand. He suppressed a laugh when she shook it heartily, her face completely serious. Beth’s trusting gaze made him feel ten feet tall.

  “Cowboys have horses, don’t they?” Beth scanned the parking lot with a frown.

  “Yes.” Tanner choked d
own his mirth. “But today I left Samson at the ranch.”

  Beth’s mother arrived breathless, studying him with a protective look flickering in her cocoa-toned eyes. Beauty certainly ran in this family.

  “Hello. I’m Tanner Johns. Beth was just asking if I’d take her rabbits to my ranch.”

  “Will you?” A desperation the harried mother couldn’t mask leached through her words before she huffed a laugh. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m Sophie Armstrong. This is my son, Davy—David.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” Tanner took one look at the surly-faced boy and returned his attention to the easy-on-the-eyes mother.

  “So can you take the rabbits?” The pleading in Sophie’s voice was hard enough to resist, but that sound—half hope, half desperation—that’s what got to Tanner. “I’d be very grateful.”

  “I—uh—” You should have walked away, Tanner.

  “Do we have to give them all away, Mama?” Beth’s gaze implored her mother to rethink her decision.

  “I’m sorry but we do, honey. Mrs. Jones is very upset that the bunnies got out of their pen again and ate her flowers.” The gentleness of Sophie’s “mom” voice and the tender brush of her fingers against her daughter’s flaxen head didn’t need translation. She loved this child.

  “Who cares about stupid old rabbits?” Davy scoffed. “Good riddance.”

  The words were a bluff to hide his anger. Tanner knew that because as a kid he’d used that same tone when life had jabbed him with reality once too often. But when Beth’s blue eyes watered and her bottom lip wobbled, Tanner’s chest tightened.

  “Davy, that’s mean,” his mother reproved. “Beth loves the rabbits.”

  “She shouldn’t. We always have to let go of stuff we love.” The boy turned away to scuff his toe against a hump in the pavement, head bent, shoulders stiff.

  Sophie’s face fell and her amazing smile dimmed. Though Tanner understood the pain behind the words, he wanted to ream out the kid for hurting his lovely mother and sister.

  Whoa! You don’t do getting involved, Tanner, his brain scoffed. Never have, though Burt tried his best to teach you. Walk away.

  But two pairs of eyes, one a rich Arizona sky blue and one dark as the dust trails on Mount Lemmon’s highest slopes, wouldn’t let him leave.

  “I can’t—that is, uh, I don’t know anything about keeping rabbits.” Tanner gazed longingly at his truck, his way of escape. Why had he answered Beth’s call in the first place?

  “Okay, thanks anyway.” Sophie smiled politely as her fingers squeezed Beth’s shoulder. “Come on, kids. Let’s get these guys loaded up. We’ll have to take them to the pet shelter. I don’t dare take them home again or Mrs. Jones will call the landlord.”

  “Old bag,” Davy muttered almost under his breath.

  “Manners, David,” his mother reproved. “Now let’s get moving. I’m working tonight, remember?”

  “Again,” Davy complained in a grumpy tone.

  “Yes, again. Because that’s how I pay for those new sneakers you’re wearing. So carry the cage, Davy, and let’s go.” Sophie Armstrong offered Tanner a distracted smile before urging the children forward.

  As they walked away Tanner heard Beth protest.

  “This morning you said the pet shelter can’t keep them,” she said. “What will happen to our bunnies, Mama?”

  “God will take care of them.” Sophie paused long enough to glance Tanner’s way. He thought he glimpsed a hint of guilt in her brown eyes before she resumed her speed-walk to a red van. “After all, He cares for the sparrows and the lilies of the field, remember?”

  Nice sentiment but her tone held no assurance.

  It’s not your problem. That did nothing to lift the blanket of guilt weighing down Tanner’s shoulders. As he turned from watching Davy wrangle the cage into the van, his gaze slid past then returned to the logo printed on the side.

  Sophie’s Kitchen—Home-Cooked Food Without the Hassle.

  Home-cooked. Tanner studied the bag in his hand.

  Doughnuts again? In his head he heard the other church ushers’ laughter. Is that all you ever eat, Tanner?

  An idea sprang to life. He whirled around and saw Sophie, er, Mrs. Armstrong getting into her van. “Wait.”

  She frowned at him but waited for his approach. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, yes—” He pointed at the writing on her vehicle. “You make food? For people to eat?”

  “That’s usually what they do with it.” Amusement laced her voice.

  “Do you ever make desserts? Or treats for coffee time?” Tanner felt ridiculous. But the thought of serving the same old store-bought doughnuts he always provided, the thought of overhearing the same snarky comments made him wait, albeit impatiently, for her response.

  “Cakes, tarts, that kind of thing? Sure.” She noticed Beth licking her lips and winked. Eyes dancing, Sophie looked young and carefree, not at all motherly.

  What would it be like to be loved by a mom like her?

  She frowned. “Look, I’m in a hurry—”

  Tanner took a leap of faith. “I’ll take the rabbits and make a home for them on the ranch in exchange for something.”

  “What?” Suspicion darkened her brown eyes.

  “You making me some kind of dessert for tonight.” Sophie’s face said she wasn’t sold on the trade. Hoping to sweeten the deal, Tanner glanced at Beth. “You could bring your kids to see the rabbits in their new home if you want, to make sure they’re okay.”

  Sophie’s eyebrows drew together. “What kind of dessert?”

  “I don’t care.” He glanced down at the bag he still clutched. “As long as it’s not doughnuts.” He knew from the furrow on her forehead that she was considering his offer.

  “You haven’t given me much notice,” she complained.

  “Can’t help it. That’s the deal.” Tanner tipped back on the heels of his boots, Stetson in hand, and waited while she deliberated. “There will be twelve of us.”

  “All men?” Sophie asked.

  “Yes. Does that matter?” She nodded. “Why?” he asked curiously.

  “Well, for one thing, women often appreciate different desserts from men, say something like cheesecake over pie,” Sophie explained.

  “Pie?” Tanner’s stomach tap-danced in anticipation. “You could make pies for twelve people for tonight?”

  “You’d only need three, maybe four.” She tapped her chin. “That’s not the problem.”

  “What is?” Could she see he was almost salivating at the mere thought of cinnamon-scented apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream dripping down its sides?

  “I have a catering job tonight, which means I couldn’t possibly bake and deliver your pies today.” When she shook her head, strands of shiny chocolate-toned hair flew through the air in an arc then fell back perfectly into place.

  Tanner loved chocolate. Even more so now.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”

  “But you don’t even know where I live.” He wasn’t giving up so easily.

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have time to bake and deliver,” she said. “If it could be tomorrow—?”

  “It has to be today. Maybe I could pick them up. Where do you live?” He noted her hesitation. Why not? She had a couple of kids to think of. “Or perhaps your husband could meet me somewhere with them?”

  “I’m a widow.” The note of defiance buried in her comment intrigued Tanner.

  “Well, I could pick them up,” he offered. She wrinkled her nose. “Would it make a difference to you if my pastor vouched for me?” Even as Tanner said it, he wondered what his life had come to that he was willing to ask someone to vouch for him in order to get pie.

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated.

>   “The meeting tonight is for our church ushers’ group. I’m head usher so it’s at my place and I’m supplying the food,” he explained before she could say no. “We get together every three months or so to organize the schedule of who’s covering which services when at Tanque Verde First Community Church.”

  “Hey, that’s where we go,” Davy said from the backseat.

  “I thought you seemed familiar.” The furrow of worry disappeared from Sophie’s forehead. “You’re Burt Green’s successor at Wranglers Ranch.”

  She knew Burt? Well, of course she did. Tanner figured pretty well everyone at First Community Church must know about the burly rancher and the transient kids he’d often brought to church.

  “I was sorry to hear of Burt’s passing.” Sophie glanced at the van’s clock, hesitated a moment then nodded. “Okay. It’s a deal. You can pick up your dessert at my place in exchange for taking the rabbits. But I’m not promising pie.”

  “Oh.” His balloon of hope burst.

  “I’ll make you something delicious, though, don’t worry.” Sophie tilted her head toward the rabbits. “I really appreciate this. It’s a great relief to find a home for those guys but—I have to go. My roast is due to come out of the oven.”

  “Wait here.” Tanner drove his truck next to her van, loaded the rabbits and promised Beth she could come see them anytime. With Sophie’s address tucked into his shirt pocket, he handed her one of Burt’s cards with the phone number at Wranglers Ranch.

  “So you can let me know when I should come and pick up the desserts,” he said. Sophie nodded, fluttered a hand, then quickly drove away.

  Chuckling at the goofy sunflower stuck on the van’s rear bumper, Tanner started his engine. Thanks to Sophie, his usher friends were going to get a surprise when they arrived at Wranglers Ranch tonight.

  That’s when it occurred to Tanner that he didn’t even know if she was a good cook. For some reason that worry immediately dissipated. Strangely he felt utterly confident that whatever Sophie Armstrong made would be delicious. Tonight was going to be a good meeting.

  Tanner gave the doughnut bag on his seat a glare, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw it out. Living on the street in his teens, he’d felt that painful gnawing ache of hunger once too often to ever waste food. Spying a solution, he pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it, the doughnuts and a business card to a disheveled man sitting in the parking lot by a light standard, exactly what Tanner would probably be doing if not for Burt Green.