The Rancher's Twins

by Carol Ross

  “They should be fine. We had to move a few of them into the calving shed, which is never fun. I promised the girls I’d take them out to see the new babies tonight. You don’t want to, uh... You wouldn’t want to join us by any chance, would you? There’s not much cuter than a new calf.” Nice, Jon, you sound like you did back in high school, when you asked Marilee Inez to the spring dance. But unlike Marilee, Lydia did not look eager. She looked more like a scared calf herself as she stared back at him.

  “Oh, um...thank you so much for asking. But not tonight.”

  Even though he’d expected as much, disappointment churned inside of him. The words came out before he could stop them, “Seems kind of tough to learn about something that you won’t even take a look at.”

  “What? No, that’s not it. It’s not that I don’t want to. I...”

  “You what?” Now he felt like a fool. Why had he asked? Cattle had to be so boring compared to what she was used to in Philadelphia.

  “Um, I would, except...I need to prepare some stuff for tomorrow. The girls have dentist appointments and I wanted to make some worksheets and...”

  Standing, Jon let her off the hook. “I understand. I’d better go round them up so I can get them back before bedtime.” It was obvious she was lying. And now they were both uncomfortable.

  “I’d appreciate that. It’ll make our day go so much smoother if they get enough sleep.” Her voice was soft, her big blue eyes wide. He had the feeling she wanted to say more, but Jon didn’t need to hear it. He knew all the excuses; about the mud, the dust, the heat, the cold, the smell. The animals might hurt her or she might break a nail, she didn’t want to get her jacket dirty, and didn’t one cow look like all the rest?

  CHAPTER NINE

  STANDING AT THE island in the kitchen, Lydia studied the supply list she’d made and tried to decide what she should go ahead and purchase in Falcon Creek and what could wait until her overdue packages arrived. She wasn’t even sure what she’d be able to find in town.

  A knock sounded on the back door.

  She opened it to find Tom standing on the porch. He was reading a slip of paper. Looking up, he removed his hat to reveal sandy-colored hair curling around his ears. “Good morning, Ms. Lydia.” Lydia had liked the handsome foreman from the first moment she’d met him. Talkative wouldn’t be a word she’d use to describe him, but she liked his quiet confidence, respectful manner and especially his gentle way with the twins.

  “Hi, Tom. How are you?”

  “Just fine. Jon said you’re headed into town?”

  “Yes, the girls have dentist appointments.”

  Piercing green eyes met hers. “I feel confident that will go real smooth for you.”

  That seemed like kind of an odd remark, but Lydia had the feeling he was trying to convey something to her. She smiled and said, “Thank you.”

  “Jon and I need a few things, if you please?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Tom handed over a list. Lydia scanned it, her spirits sinking as she realized that most of the items she’d never heard of.

  “Um, what’s a—”

  Tom said, “You can just hand that paper to Frank at Brewster’s. He’ll collect it for you.”

  “Great. Thank you, Tom. That should save me time.” About three or four hours, she wanted to joke. But didn’t. She couldn’t risk that Tom would report to Jon that she was clueless. Not that he didn’t already know it, but she was trying hard not to advertise.

  “You’re welcome. I, uh, I added something on the back there you might want to consider.”

  Lydia flipped over the list. The word boots was neatly printed, and beneath it, he’d written a brand and style. Like a thermometer dipped in hot water, she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

  “Brewster’s has a real nice selection. These are the best for you.”

  She brought her gaze up to meet his. “Did you see—?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Does Jon—”

  “No, ma’am, just myself.”

  Lydia stared at him, wondering why he would help her. He was Jon’s foreman, his friend and, from what she’d seen, his most trusted employee.

  Her face must have betrayed the question because he cleared his throat. “Gen and Abby are real special to me, like my own family. I’ve known them since they were babies. Walked the floor with them more than a time or two.” He paused, adjusting his stance. Lydia felt for him as he struggled to explain without saying too much. “What I’m getting at is, I know they’re good kids. But it’s been a long while since they’ve had the chance to prove it. With you, they...” Tom’s gaze dropped to the ground. Taking a breath, he looked back up. “They’re doing just fine, Ms. Lydia. And I’d like to do my part to see it on. Sorry for the sermon.”

  Lydia’s heart went light. She wanted to hug the man but knew instinctively he’d be uncomfortable with that. Instead, she reached out and squeezed his forearm. “Thank you so much, Tom.”

  * * *

  SPIRITS BOOSTED BY Tom’s confidence in her, Lydia and the girls set off toward Falcon Creek. She hadn’t even driven through the town on her way to the JB Bar. Now, she turned at the four-way stop and headed toward downtown. She counted three church steeples dotting the immediate horizon. How refreshing to discover that they seemed to be the tallest structures around. In the back seat, the girls discussed the merits of dill pickles versus sweet. Lydia had no idea how the topic had come up, but she enjoyed their chatter.

  Falcon’s Nest Hotel seemed ideally located on the edge of town with the Clearwater Café across the street. On the right was White Buffalo Grocers. Up to this point, Dusty had been supplying her with groceries, but she was thinking they could start sharing the duty.

  There were no cars behind her, so she inched into downtown, taking it all in, trying to absorb the magic that the town’s history had fashioned all around her. Old, old buildings of brick and stone and wood stood side by side, all apparently still in use by someone or something. Lydia was charmed.

  On the right, a stately, redbrick structure appeared before her like something out of a movie set. Captivated, she glanced in her rearview mirror and stopped. Right there. In the middle of the street.

  “Hold on, girls.” Getting out, she stood by the car and gaped at the Falcon Creek National Bank. It wasn’t hard to imagine robbers busting out the door and firing guns while jumping on their getaway horses. Turning her head, she noticed Pots & Petals Flower Shop, Mountains Past Antiques and Bee Balm Gifts. Down the street she saw the red, white and blue barber pole, just as Sofie had described.

  Whoop. One short burst of a siren had Lydia spinning around, pulse pounding, hand on her chest. Cop car. Before she could even move, a familiar cap of red hair appeared out the window of the vehicle.

  “Mornin’, Ms. Lydia.”

  “Scooter, you need to quit sneaking up behind me like that.”

  With a loud guffaw, he climbed out of the car. “Not hard to do when you’re always parking in these odd places. You lost again?”

  As he approached, Gen and Abby cried, “Hi, Scooter. We’re going to Brewster’s.”

  “Hey, girls. Aren’t you lucky? Brewster’s is always a good idea.”

  Lydia explained, “We have dentist appointments today. Then we’re going to do some shopping.”

  “And something led you to believe this was Dr. Beazley’s parking lot? Boy, they sure do things different in Philadelphia, don’t they?”

  Lydia laughed. “Sorry. Getting my bearings. It’s my first trip to town and I was doing a little gawking.”

  Scooter held out a hand. “Wait right here.” He walked back to his vehicle, ducked inside and returned with a paper in his hand. Standing beside her in the middle of the street, he took a moment to look around. “Yeah, kind of pretty, isn’t it? Can’t give you a ticket for
gawking so I’ll give you this map instead.”

  Handing her the paper, he pointed down the street. “This is Front Street and Brewster’s is down past the drugstore. If you want to see it all, turn left just beyond Brewster’s, and then left again. That’ll be Back Street.” Leaning toward the SUV, he said, “You girls have a nice day.”

  To Lydia, he said, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you parked askew again real soon.”

  “Thank you, Scooter. You are like the north in my compass.”

  Chuckling, he walked away and got into his car.

  Lydia climbed into her vehicle and kept driving. A giant silver dollar on the side of a dark brown building advertised the Silver Stake Saloon. A lighted ice-cream cone in the window of a large, redbrick building on the corner caught her eye. The sign above said South Corner Drug & Sundries.

  Brewster Ranch Supply would have been difficult to miss. A large, freestanding building with attractive, weathered gray siding, it reminded Lydia of a general store from an old television Western. Convenient, she thought, as she spotted the dentist’s office across Front Street. There was a law office next door to that.

  Gen piped up. “Lydia, can I show you the saddles at Brewster’s?”

  Lydia smiled. Five-year-old translation—can we look at the saddles? How was it possible to already adore these little ones as much as she did? “As soon as you girls rock your dentist appointments we can look at whatever you want.”

  Lydia turned left where Scooter recommended, turned left one block later and toured Back Street. Businesses here included a quilt shop, a veterinarian and a bookstore, as well as the fire station. A row of older well-kept homes, with their picket fences and tidy flower beds awash with early spring color, had Lydia fighting the urge to pull over again.

  “Bear claws from Maple Bear Bakery are the best,” Abby commented as they passed the shop. In the window, a carved wooden bear displayed a pie in one paw and a rolling pin in the other.

  “I like the maple muffins,” Gen said.

  “Those both sound delicious to me,” Lydia commented.

  Misty Whistle Coffee House looked fun, too, housed in the old train station. The bronze steam whistle displayed out front reminded her of a café she and Meredith adored back in Philly.

  She turned at the credit union and then again onto Front Street. Lydia parked near the barber pole. Sofie had told her about Jem Salon when Lydia had wondered if there was a place in town that offered printing services.

  “It’s a beauty and print shop?” Lydia had asked, trying not to laugh.

  “And a nail salon, yes. Trust me, it’s not what you’re thinking. The owners, June and Emma, relocated here from Los Angeles. We’re so lucky to have them. People are coming from all over to get their hair done. June’s also a graphic designer. She has all these cool printers and stuff in the back.”

  Now she told the girls, “We need to make a quick stop here at Jem Salon.” She’d filled a flash drive with worksheets, ideas, crafts and activities that Hailey had sent her. She’d supplemented those with others she’d found online.

  “We love June and Emma. They cut our hair sometimes. And Daddy’s, too.”

  The girls unbuckled and climbed out. Holding hands, with Lydia in the middle, they walked inside. She could see what Sofie meant. Classy and tasteful meets vintage Montana country. Old red brick and mortar made up one entire wall. She wondered if it and the distressed wood floor were original to the building. To the left was the waiting area with an espresso-colored leather sofa, two matching chairs and a round table, which had stacks of neatly arranged magazines on top. Black-and-white photos hung on the walls.

  An antique display case served as the reception desk. Beyond that was the busy salon, where a gorgeous vintage barber chair stood ready. Lydia and the girls took a few steps forward and the room went silent.

  At least seven women looked in their direction. Two were seated in the black-and-silver styling chairs situated in front of large mirrors. An apron-wearing stylist holding scissors and a comb stood nearby. Another woman was perched on a chair in front of the shampooing sink, a white towel twisted on her head like a dollop of soft-serve ice cream. Under the dryer was an older woman, her silvery hair coiled tight with blue curlers.

  Two fancy pedicure chairs were positioned near the back corner. Lydia loved a good pedicure. Might be fun to treat Sofie one of these days. At the manicure station a pretty blonde was filing another lady’s nails.

  “Hello, there. I’ll be right with you.” A slender woman with long black silky, straight hair came hustling out of a doorway in the back. She carried a stack of fluffy white towels. Glancing their way, she set the bundle on the counter and approached them.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Blackwell beauties.” She wore skinny jeans tucked into tall boots. Her brown-eyed gaze flicked from Abby to Genevieve, back and forth a couple of times. Shrugging helplessly, she added, “Looking extra beautiful today. And girls! Your. Hair. Is. Gorgeous!”

  “Thank you, Emma.” Abby beamed. “Lydia does it for us now.”

  “You must be Lydia?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m Emma. Excited to meet you.” Emma reached out a hand. Over her shoulder, she called out, “June, come over here and take a look at this.”

  Lydia had braided Abby’s hair and then twisted it into an intricate updo on top of her head. She’d threaded in a sparkly ribbon she’d found in the basket of hair supplies. Gen preferred French braids, so Lydia had parted it on the side and braided around each side of the crown, arranging the ends into a bun.

  “Hi, June,” Abby said.

  “Hey, Abigail and Genevieve. How are my favorite twins?”

  “Good,” Abby said.

  June beamed at Lydia. “Hi, I’m June.” June was shorter than Emma with a chic blond A-line cut, moss green eyes and bow-shaped lips. Both women looked hip and stylish enough to work in an upscale salon anywhere.

  “Genevieve, let me look at you.” June took her gently by the shoulders and guided her into a slow circle while she examined Lydia’s handiwork. “I love this!”

  “Thank you.” Gen smiled shyly, her hand coming up to touch the braids. “Lydia can braid real good.”

  “She sure can.”

  The women traded knowing glances, silently communicating in a way that reminded Lydia of herself and Meredith. Emma said, “This is excellent work. Any chance we could hire you to work for us on prom days and maybe an occasional wedding? We do hair for a bunch of different proms now. People are driving hours and we’re getting booked for this season already.”

  Lydia smiled, grateful for the stint she’d done at Luxe Salon as a shampoo girl. Marta, one of the stylists, had taken Lydia under her wing and instructed her in the fine art of braids and updos. “I could maybe be persuaded to work out a trade. The girls and I are all going to need a trim one of these days. And I understand my boss gets his hair cut here, too?”

  June looked at Emma, who clapped her hands together. “Done. But you don’t have appointments today, do you? I’d remember if the Blackwell beauties were on our books.”

  June pointed a finger at Lydia. “You called about having some printing done, didn’t you?”

  “That was me.” Lydia fished the flash drive out of her bag.

  June waved her forward. “Come on back and we’ll get you set up.”

  “Great. I bet you ladies carry a good leave-in conditioner here, too.”

  “Finally.” Emma sighed. “I told Jon he needed to get one.”

  Lydia laughed. “I don’t think he understood. He’s been using shampoo and conditioner in one.”

  “Shampoo and conditioner in one,” Emma repeated with a resigned shake of her head. “On hair like these girls have... I’ll leave some up at the counter. Part of the deal.”

  June informed her she could pick up her order in a coup
le of hours. Lydia thanked her, and they went on their way. Approximately three minutes later, she was parked at the office of Dr. Richard Beazley, DDS, DMD. Lydia silently extolled the virtues of running errands in a small town.

  “Okay, girls, we’re here. We talked about what’s going to happen but before we go inside, do you have any questions?” It was just for checkups and the girls had been here before, yet Jon had seemed concerned when they’d discussed it, even offering to bring them himself.

  Gen looked troubled. “It’s not going to hurt, right?”

  “Nope.” She reached back and gave Gen’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “And I’ll be with you. Abby?”

  “I’m ready, I guess.”

  Inside, the receptionist checked them in and directed them to the waiting area. Another woman joined her. They spoke in hushed tones and kept glancing toward the waiting room. Lydia wouldn’t have thought much about it if they hadn’t been the only ones there. Removing crayons from the bag she’d brought, she handed them to the girls along with the worksheets she’d made. She instructed them to color all the images that began with the letter A.

  “Ms. Newbury?”

  Lydia looked up to find one of the women now standing in front of her. “Yes. Please call me Lydia.”

  “Hi, I’m Nell. Can I speak with you at the front desk?”

  “Sure. Girls, I’ll be right back.”

  Nell led her beyond the reception area, out of earshot, but with a clear view into the waiting room. She said, “So, we worked out a strategy this time.”

  “A strategy?”

  “Yes. Last visit was a little...chaotic. We weren’t prepared. Although...” Nell looked toward the girls, a curious expression on her face. Lydia followed her gaze to where they were both serenely coloring away.

  “Although what?”

  “Abigail and Genevieve, right? Jon Blackwell’s daughters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm. Maybe things have changed now that you’re, um...”

  “Nell, please feel free to speak openly. What happened last time?”