The Rancher's Twins

by Carol Ross

  “I am udderly cow-ignorant. Get it—udder?” She cringed. “That was a bad joke. I apologize. I’m trying to cover up for my embarrassing lack of bovine knowledge.”

  Still smiling, he said, “I don’t imagine there’s a lot of cattle grazing around the streets of Philadelphia. I’m guessing at that, though, I’ve never been there.”

  “No, you’re right. There’s not. But I did see a camel downtown once.”

  That grin of hers was contagious. And it made him curious. What could it hurt to get to know her a bit before she headed back to Philadelphia or moved on to another family? It was possible he was procrastinating but he didn’t care.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  Eyes shifting, her mouth opened and then closed again as her forehead furrowed.

  “I’m sorry, is that a trick question?”

  She chuckled. “No. Yeah, um, sort of. I mean, yes, I have a stepbrother, a stepsister and a half sister.”

  Jon watched her worry the cloth, discomfort splashed all over her face. “Not close?” he asked gently.

  “That’s one way to put it. They’re a lot younger than me and they live in Florida with my father and my step—” Changing course, she went with, “His wife.”

  The “step” aversion he could relate to, but it was kind of funny how she said the word Florida. When she didn’t elaborate he took it to mean it wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss. That he could also respect. He went with a joke instead. “Yeah, Florida.”

  Her eyes snapped up to meet his and she burst out laughing. “Right? Who would live there? Not a cattle rancher, for sure.”

  “Actually, the largest ranch in the United States is in Florida.”

  “It’s a gator ranch, though, right?”

  He chuckled. “Nope, I meant largest cattle ranch.”

  She eyed him skeptically. “Is that a bunch of bull?”

  “It is not.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you. You do a really good deadpan.”

  He grinned. “Why would I lie about that?”

  “People lie about all kinds of things,” she returned quickly. “For all kinds of reasons.”

  Leaning against the counter behind him, he studied her. He was struck with the feeling that there was a whole lot more to her than met the eye. Too bad he didn’t have time to find out what that was. It reminded him of how he’d felt when he met Ava—intrigued and drawn in by a woman completely different than him. That thought sobered him. Opposites might attract but in Jon’s experience that attraction didn’t last.

  “Not me. I don’t lie.”

  “Really?” Her tone was as skeptical as her expression. “Never?”

  “Not about ranching, anyway.”

  “Well, who would lie about that? Have you always been a rancher?”

  “Plenty of people would lie about ranching. And, yes, pretty much since the day I was born. Never wanted anything else.”

  “Nothing?”

  Nothing besides a happy marriage, a wife who wanted to be my partner and a houseful of kids. The words danced across his tongue, surprising him. It was a hard lesson, but he’d learned that not everyone could have it all. Big E, who was on his fifth marriage, was proof of that. Jon was grateful that he learned much quicker than his grandfather. Luckily, she was referring to his career choice and he could tell the truth he’d just claimed he was good for.

  “Never wanted to be anything but a rancher.”

  “Wow. I’ve always had the opposite problem—trying to figure out what I wanted to do. It must be nice to be so passionate about your work.”

  “Most of the time.” It could also get a little lonely. He had to admit that with Ms. Lydia Newbury around life would probably be anything but lonely. She was like a ray of sunshine standing right in the middle of his kitchen.

  That wistful smile was back on her face and it pulled at him like a mystery he wanted to solve. Unfortunately, he needed to get to that work they were discussing, which meant he needed to circle around to the point. He hated the idea of being the one to make that smile fade. “We need to have that talk we started this morning.”

  She must have picked up on his anxiety because she sobered. “Okay.”

  Pausing, he struggled for the gentlest approach. Which was not exactly his strong suit. Preferring directness, he decided to give her the same courtesy. “I called the agency to ask them to send a replacement for you.”

  “What?” Her already pale skin faded to the color of a Montana blizzard. Her palms flattened on the counter in front of her. “You’re firing me?”

  “I’d rather we agree that I never hired you. The agency gives us both the right to rescind the employment agreement if one party is not satisfactory to the other.”

  “Not satisfactory? What did I do? I haven’t even started.”

  “I know and I’m sorry for that. I blame the agency.”

  “What is the problem exactly? I’m sure we can work it out.”

  “The problem is that you don’t have any experience with ranch life. I specifically requested a nanny with a country background.”

  A long moment drew out between them while her blue eyes traveled over him. Jon wasn’t generally susceptible to intimidation, but he found himself feeling uncomfortable. No way to tell if she wanted to cry or hit him with a frying pan.

  Finally, she barked out a bitter sound that he wouldn’t quite call a laugh. In a tone rife with sarcasm, she asked, “A country nanny? Is that even a thing?”

  “I was told it was. Or rather, I was informed I could expect an employee with ranching experience or one who had experience with life in the country.” Jon sighed and scrubbed a hand across his now itchy jaw. “I know how it must sound to you, but I need someone familiar with our lifestyle.”

  “Why didn’t you go ahead and order Mary Poppins while you were at it? If this is an April Fool’s joke, it’s the worst one ever.”

  “Ms. Lydia, I understand—”

  Pointing a finger at him, she bit off the words. “Don’t you call me that.” Her previously pale cheeks were now pink with what he assumed was anger. He couldn’t blame her. She’d come a long way to not even be given a chance.

  Stuffing down his guilt was no easy task. “I’m sorry. What should I call you?”

  “Lydia,” she said through gritted teeth. “My name is Lydia.”

  “Okay. You can call me Jon.”

  “That’ll be easier now that I don’t work for you.”

  “I understand that you’re disappointed. But please try and understand how difficult this is for me. I’m a single dad with a cattle ranch to run. Every minute of my time is taken up with one task or another and I need someone who understands how life works under these conditions. You just told me yourself that you know nothing about cattle. It’s not you. I mean it’s not personal.”

  She scoffed. “You have got to be kidding me? This is the first time I’ve heard the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech about a job.”

  He tried to explain. “You’re obviously good with children. In a very short time you’ve gone quite a long way in proving that, and I admit my children are not easy. I’d be happy to recommend you.”

  Her glare was formidable. “Recommend me? But isn’t what you just pointed out the most important thing? Your children? They like me. And I’m already half in love with them. Can’t you teach me the rest?” She gestured around with frustrated hands. “The ranching...country...lifestyle stuff? I’m a quick study and a very hard worker.”

  Anxious eyes sought his and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. But he knew what would happen if he acquiesced. He’d seen it with Ava, he’d seen it with Big E’s wives. He saw the tendency in the tourists who came to his grandfather’s guest ranch. Even if they had the desire, 99 percent of them couldn’t handle the kind of stamina and for
titude this life required. Ranching was the center of his world and everything else revolved around it.

  “This kind of hard work is not like normal hard work.”

  Her gaze grabbed a hold of his with surprising intensity. He’d expected her to bow out gracefully. He’d been under the impression the JB Bar wasn’t what she’d been hoping for, anyway.

  “Listen to me, I’ve been working since I was fifteen. I’ve had...a lot of jobs, backbreaking physical labor included. I’ve never been fired.” She paused to add a slow, thoughtful head-tip. “Except for one time but that wasn’t my fault. How could I possibly be responsible for a broken water pipe? I promise I can do this.” Sincerity mixed with the desperation in her tone. Her eyes were the color of a mountain bluebird and he could feel them pleading.

  He cleared his throat. “I believe that you could eventually, but...” He didn’t have time for eventually. “I don’t have time to teach you.”

  “You have internet. You can learn how to do anything on YouTube these days.”

  “You want to learn about ranching on the internet?” he asked skeptically.

  “Yes! Sort of. I mean not entirely. I would learn as I go, too. And you didn’t hire me to be a ranch hand, did you? You just want me to understand ranching life, right? You want like an informed nanny.”

  “I need a nanny with exceptional skills. It’s asking too much of a city...person. Honestly, it’s probably too much to ask of a normal person.”

  “Exceptional how?”

  Frustrated by both the situation and the need to let her go, he drew in a deep breath. Then he said, “I need someone who can teach and take care of the girls, cook, clean, do the laundry and manage the house. I need someone who can tend to the yard, the fruit trees, the garden and the compost pile. I want the girls to be a part of this place, to feel invested, so I need a person who can feed the chickens and gather the eggs, take care of the cats, two goats and probably an occasional orphaned calf. I need someone who will make phone calls, order supplies and run errands with two holy terrors in tow. I need more than a nanny. I need an assistant. If you think you can learn all of that on YouTube or wherever in the next two weeks, then you are welcome to try. I’ll be happy to pay you for your time.” Jon hadn’t thought it through before he’d rattled off that challenge. Part of it he’d made up on the spot. He hadn’t anticipated that she’d fight so hard for the job.

  Fisting her hands on the countertop, she stared at him. No, it was more than a stare. It was contemplation. That look, coupled with her feisty determination, nipped at his resolve. He could only hope that he’d said enough to scare her off. That wasn’t entirely true; part of him was trying to convince her not to stay while another piece reminded him that he did indeed need child care. Especially in light of the situation out at Big E’s. He didn’t even want to think about the time he’d have to spend at the Blackwell Ranch if his grandfather didn’t return soon. There was also another slice of him that wanted her around for a reason he didn’t want to think about because he didn’t want it to matter; he liked her.

  “Why two weeks?”

  “It’s fifteen days to be exact. At least, that’s when Eileen from the agency will be back from vacation.” The thought occurred to him that that would almost give him enough time to get through calving season and prepare for his upcoming interview.

  She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and Jon watched, transfixed, as she gnawed nervously for a few seconds. The resolve firing in her blazing blue eyes had him shaking his head. He should have added some truly unsavory tasks to that list, like mucking out stalls and butchering chickens, because she was looking at him and he knew she was going to say exactly what she did.

  A slow smile curved into place—it lightened her expression and, despite his misgivings, his mood. “Done,” she said. “I can do all of that and more.” Then she tilted her chin and seemed to savor his name on her lips when she added, “Jon.”

  Against every bit of the good sense howling at him like a wolf inside his head, he smiled back. “Fine.” He waited a beat and then added his own softly delivered, “Lydia.”

  * * *

  SLOWLY, LYDIA SHIFTED out of panic mode. She was safe. For now. Fifteen days wasn’t much but she’d learned more difficult jobs than this one in less time. She was sure of it. It was almost like all the work she’d done in her life up to this point had prepared her for this. Well, almost. The one place where she most wanted to make a difference, no matter how long she was here, was where she needed the most help. She poured two cups of coffee and handed him one.

  “Now that the matter of my employment is settled, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What are your thoughts on the girls’ education?”

  He answered immediately, which told Lydia he’d given the subject some thought. She liked that. “They just turned five, so they should be getting ready for kindergarten, which they’re supposed to start in the fall. But I’m afraid they’re a little behind academically. Especially Genevieve. She’s more than a little.”

  “Where will they go to kindergarten?” She could get a list from the school about what concepts they should know before then. She knew that states had standards regarding what a child should know for every grade. Specific schools had recommendations as well.

  “They’ll be going to school here.”

  “In Falcon Creek?”

  “No. Here on the ranch.”

  The mug she held froze at the halfway point between her mouth and the countertop. She was going to need more than a little help. Then she remembered that she likely wouldn’t be here in the fall. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do what she could do before the next nanny took over. She carried on with her sip and then lowered her mug. “I see. Is that your plan for their entire education?”

  “I’m going to play that one by ear. But the first several grades, yes.”

  “That sounds good. I have a friend who homeschools her troop and they’re the smartest, sweetest kids you’ll ever meet.” She was thinking of Meredith’s sister, Hailey. Tapping a finger on the countertop, she stared out the window and wished she could call Meredith. A bluebird hopped across a branch on what looked like a plum tree in the yard. Tiny buds were popping out along its scraggly branches. She hoped she’d be here long enough to see it bloom. Remembering Nana’s plum tree made her long for a hug and a bite of the tree-ripened fruit.

  Jon carried his mug toward the sink. Giving it a quick rinse, he moved to open the dishwasher. Lydia said, “Uh-uh. Just leave it there on the counter. I’m going to earn my paycheck.”

  Ignoring her, he slid it into the dishwasher and then turned toward her. “You sure are. The girls have dentist appointments next week. Dusty goes into Falcon Creek once a week for groceries so anything you need just let him know.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Do you have a cell phone where I can reach you?”

  Lydia paused. She didn’t want to lie but the way he’d asked the question made it easy to avoid. “I prefer not to use a cell phone if I can avoid it.”

  If he thought that was odd, he didn’t show it. He pointed. “I’ve got a house phone here, so the girls can call me anytime. The speed-dial numbers are written on the card hanging next to it. My cell phone is one, Tom is two, three is the bunkhouse and so on.”

  “Got it.”

  “I’m already mourning the fact that I won’t make it in for lunch today. If those pancakes are a sample of what I have to look forward to, it won’t be much of a hardship to eat in here with you and the girls whenever I can.”

  She grinned, already making plans for dinner. “You haven’t tasted anything yet. Anyone can cook breakfast.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true. And not pancakes like that, they can’t.”

  “Thank you. It’s a treat to cook for people who appreciate it. You know
what I’m looking forward to?” She answered her own question before he had a chance. “April fifteenth.”

  Frowning, he joked, “Well, that’s just wrong, Lydia. No one likes filing their taxes.”

  She fought a smile. “Including me. But it will be special for me this year, Jon, because that is the day when you beg me to stay here on your ranch.”

  “I hope you’re right about that. But I don’t think two—”

  “Shh.” Her hand shot up to cut him off. “Don’t say it.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “All right then. I’m getting to work.”

  Trout had been lying on his dog bed near the mudroom doorway. At Jon’s comment, he was up and ready to go. Unnerving how the dog seemed to understand everything he said. She swished a finger from Trout to Jon and back again. “What happened here? Is it the word work?”

  “Maybe. That and body language probably.”

  “Huh.” After a last admiring look at Trout, she brushed him away. “Get out of here, then. I have things to do—a lot of things apparently. My boss has superhigh expectations and until I came along he was impossible to please.”

  His eyebrows edged up in an I-warned-you gesture, but he was fighting a smile. Without another word, he and Trout headed into the mudroom. Only when she heard the door close did she exhale the breath she’d been holding. How in the world was she going to pull this off?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LATER, LYDIA WOULD blame the bee for the chicken incident. Gen blamed Lydia’s shoes. Abby blamed her technique.

  With the girls flanking her and a feed pail in each hand, Lydia cautiously approached the chicken pen. She noticed all the chickens moving toward them, running actually, wings flapping. A feathery mass of noisy clucking. Why had Nana never kept chickens?

  She opened the latch and pushed the gate forward with her hip. Abby said something, but it was too late, she was being chicken-mobbed. That’s when she saw the bee zipping toward her face like a tiny, buzzing, heat-seeking missile. As she ducked and swiveled, her right foot slipped off the bed of her flip-flop right into slick chicken poo, causing that leg to shoot out from under her and slide beneath the fence. She landed on her butt with a thump, chicken feed spilling on and around her. Only vaguely did she register pain in that foot. Chaos erupted. A chicken riot. Chickens running over her. Chickens squawking, lurching and weaving all around her.