The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands?

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “What is it?” Emily asked with a puzzled smile.

  “You’re not…” Janie began, then paused.

  “Go on.” Libby elbowed her sister. “Ask her.”

  “Ask me what?” Emily wanted to know. “Come on, out with it.”

  Janie cast a final glance at Libby, then licked her lips. “You’re not going to marry Sloan just because our car can’t get fixed, are you?”

  “What?”

  “I mean, you’d marry him even if our car was fixed, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course I would, honey. This has nothing to do with our car. Sloan and I are getting married, and that’s that. I thought you were happy about it.”

  “We are!” Libby cried. “We’re real happy, aren’t we, Janie?”

  “Real happy,” Janie confirmed. “We get a new daddy.” She grinned at Sloan. “And we get a great- grandmother.”

  “You sure do,” Rose told them with a big smile.

  “And we get uncles.” Janie looked pointedly at a beaming Caleb and Justin.

  Justin leaned back in his chair and stuck out his chest. “Hear that, Caleb? We’re gonna be uncles.”

  “Yeah. Pretty cool,” Caleb decided.

  Then Janie frowned. “Do you know how to be uncles?”

  The two men frowned and shared a brief look.

  “Well,” Caleb said. “I guess we can figure it out as we go. Unless you want to give us a few pointers.”

  Libby nodded. “Give ’em pointers, Janie. Tell them the rules.”

  Justin chuckled. “There are rules for uncles?”

  “Oh, yes.” Janie nodded vigorously. “Uncles are like playmates, only they’re already grown-up. They play with you and take you places and let you do things your parents wouldn’t let you do.”

  Emily pursed her lips, wondering what else was coming, because after a speech like that, there was certain to be a bombshell.

  “And they always take your side,” Janie added.

  The two prospective uncles scrunched up their faces in thought, looked at each other, then nodded.

  “Yep,” Justin said. “That sounds about right to me.”

  “We can do that,” Caleb said.

  Libby leaned over and whispered to Janie. “They gotta promise.”

  “You promise?” Janie asked earnestly.

  “Cross my heart,” Justin said.

  “We promise,” Caleb said solemnly.

  The two girls looked at each other, but they didn’t grin. Here it came, Emily thought. Whatever it was.

  “Okay, then.” Janie reached beneath the table, pulled out a long skinny tube and held it across the table toward Caleb. “Then I guess you might want this.”

  At the foot of the table Sloan choked on a sip of iced tea.

  Next to him, Justin pressed his knuckles over lips that wanted to curve up.

  Caleb blinked. “Well.” He blinked again. “You found the missing oil pickup tube.” Another blink, and what might have been a twitch of his lips, a sharp sideways glance at Justin. “Thank you,” he said to Janie. “Where did you find it?”

  Emily gaped. “That’s the part that disappeared?”

  “We found it on the tarp, underneath the car,” Janie said in a rush.

  “You did?” Caleb took the tube and studied it, shaking his head. “Must have been there all along and I just overlooked it.” He cut another look at Justin, this one promising a reckoning. Caleb knew his younger brother. This thing had the kid’s fingerprints all over it, figuratively if not literally. “Thanks, Janie. I’m glad you found it.”

  Janie and Libby looked at each other and let out a long breath of relief.

  Janie grinned across the table. “You’re welcome, Uncle Caleb.”

  Caleb beamed back at her.

  “Young ladies,” Emily said in her mother voice. “I think—”

  Justin cut her off. “I think that’s just great, the way you girls found that missing part. After supper Caleb and I can show you where it goes. We’ll make mechanics out of the pair of you yet.”

  Libby giggled. “You’re gonna be a good uncle, Uncle Justin.”

  He winked at her. “I’m gonna be the best.”

  “Now, hold on,” Caleb protested. “I’m older than you. I get to be the best uncle.”

  Sloan rolled his eyes. “Lord, help us. I think you’ve just lost control of your daughters, Em. Their new uncles are going to take over.”

  “Not to worry,” Rose said cheerfully. “No one spoils little girls like a great-grandmother. You just leave everything to me.”

  Sloan narrowed his eyes at his grandmother. “I know you. I know what you’re thinking. You are not going to buy them each a horse.”

  “A horse?” Janie and Libby squealed together. “We get a horse?”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Now you’ve done it,” she muttered.

  “Of course you do, dears,” Rose said to the girls, her eyes narrowed at her eldest grandson.

  “Of course you do,” Sloan said. “But I’m getting them for you.” He jabbed a thumb at his own chest.

  “We get horses!”

  Emily looked across the table at Caleb and Justin. “Help.”

  They just grinned at her. “Welcome to the family, sister.”

  Sudden tears blurred Emily’s vision. “Oh.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. In all the excitement it hadn’t really dawned on her. Yes, she was getting married—that alone took her breath away. Her daughters were getting a new father, a great-grandmother and two uncles. But it hadn’t sunk in that Emily herself was getting brothers. She’d never had siblings. Now she would have brothers. Two of them.

  “Em?” Sloan took her hand in his. “Em, what’s wrong?”

  Her smile might have wobbled, but it came straight from her heart. “I love you.”

  Someday she hoped to make him understand just how grateful she was. Not only was he giving her himself, but an entire family, as well.

  Thank you, her heart sang.

  Epilogue

  Five weeks later Emily Nelson married Sloan Chisholm at the Rose Rock Baptist church in what was to have been a small intimate ceremony. Nearly fifty people showed up.

  Brenda and Tommy drove in from Fort Smith. That was the extent of Emily’s contribution to the guest list. Everyone else had come for Sloan.

  Emily had known that Sloan had a lot of friends—she had met a few of them. She and Melanie had even become friends in recent weeks. But Emily had had no idea about the Chisholm relatives. Aunts and uncles and cousins came from all over the country. Farmers and ranchers, doctors and soldiers, and a few she was just as glad not to know about.

  The groom, all agreed, was a handsome devil in his black tux, his head held high with pride. His brothers, serving as his groomsmen, were no slouches, either.

  The bride wore an off-white dress that fell in graceful folds to her ankles. Everyone agreed that she glowed with a special beauty. But it was her bridesmaids dressed in pink who stole the show. Libby and Janie were full of their own importance, excited at taking part in their mother’s wedding and absolutely adorable.

  They stood beside their mother and stared at her, and at Sloan, in wonder, their young minds not sure what to make of all the fuss, but understanding that it might be the most important thing that had ever happened in their lives.

  Their mother was marrying Mr. Sloan. He’d been the best daddy candidate they had found, and, as far as they were concerned, he was wonderful.

  To Janie’s mind, they had stated their goal—a new father. They had made a plan and surveyed every man they met. In the end, it was a matter of adding up the numbers, totalling the scores. Everything logical, sensible. If you kept things sensible, you could have what you wanted.

  Libby looked at things differently. To her this wedding was proof that if you squeezed your eyes shut tight enough and wished hard enough, good things happened.

  They had argued about their opposite views and decided that maybe, just maybe, they w
ere both right.

  When the I-dos were said and the groom kissed his bride, Libby and Janie shared a look.

  “Now?” Libby whispered, her eyes alight with excitement.

  “No.” Janie shook her head and held on to her sister’s arm. “We have to ask first.”

  The instant the kiss was over, as the newlyweds turned to face their guests, Libby tugged on her mother’s dress.

  Misty-eyed, with her heart full to bursting, Emily turned to her daughters.

  “Mama,” Libby asked, “is Mr. Sloan our daddy now?”

  Emily shared a look with Sloan, then touched a hand to each daughter’s cheek. “That’s right. Sloan is your new daddy now.”

  “Does that mean we don’t have to call him Mr. Sloan anymore?” Janie asked.

  Several guests in the front rows chuckled.

  “No,” Emily said. “You don’t have to call him Mr. Sloan anymore.”

  Sloan slipped his arm around Emily’s waist and smiled at his new daughters. “So, what are you going to call me?”

  Janie and Libby moved to stand before Sloan and looked up at him. “If it’s okay,” Janie said, taking her sister’s hand in hers and squeezing, “I mean, if you don’t mind…”

  Sloan’s heart started pounding. “What is it you want to call me?”

  Libby stepped up and craned her neck to look up at him. “Can we call you Daddy?”

  For an instant, Sloan’s heart stopped, his vision blurred. The next thing he knew, he was on his knees, hugging his new daughters to his chest. He looked up helplessly at Emily.

  Emily’s own vision blurred. She gave him a wobbly smile.

  “I’d be honored,” he said in a voice that shook, “to have you call me Daddy.”

  Then all he could do was mouth the words thank you to Emily. Someday he hoped he could make her understand just how grateful he was that she had come into his life. For, not only had she given him herself, she had given him two precious daughters. He prayed that he could fill the shoes Michael Nelson had left and be the type of father these girls needed to see them through childhood, through the awkward teen years and on into womanhood.

  But, for now, they were little girls, and they were his. And so was their mother.

  Life, he decided, could not be better.

  * * * * *

  The Other Brother

  Chapter One

  The fiddler’s bow moved so fast it was little more than a blur beneath the gaily colored Chinese lanterns strung from barn to house and back again. Feet stomped, hands clapped, and couples whirled on the makeshift plywood dance floor. The winter wheat was in the ground, which was enough of a reason to party, but that wasn’t what brought people to the Cherokee Rose ranch in central Oklahoma this early-October night. Cherokee Rose Chisholm’s eldest grandson had taken a wife, and the celebration was in full swing. From farmers and ranchers to bankers to down-on-their-luck cowboys, people from all over the county, the state of Oklahoma and beyond filled the ranch yard to welcome Emily Nelson Chisholm and her two young daughters to the community.

  There was even a rumor that a token Texan or two had shown up. Of course, to an Oklahoman, there was no such place as Texas. All that land south of the Red River was simply known as Baja Oklahoma.

  Texans didn’t like this description much, since they considered the area north of the Red River to be nothing more than North Texas. But what the heck. The annual Red River Rivalry, better known to the rest of the world as the Oklahoma University versus the University of Texas football game, was still two weeks away. For now, the Sooners would let the Longhorns drink their beer.

  That beer was being tapped from the keg by Caleb Chisholm, the middle brother of Cherokee Rose’s pride and joy—her three grandsons. Most people thought of Caleb as the quiet Chisholm. Sloan, the eldest, was outgoing and friendly, kindhearted and always ready to help someone in need. Justin, the youngest, had earned the nickname Wild Man back in high school; it was appropriate, and it had stuck. He liked to party, play practical jokes, and generally have a good time with the ladies.

  But Caleb kept mostly to himself, when he wasn’t trying to keep his two brothers from pounding on each other just for the fun of it. He was steady and dependable, and considered one of the best catches in the county, according to local beauty-shop gossip. He was a quiet man with a sober demeanor that added just a touch of mystery and made his rare smiles all the more powerful.

  He flashed one of those rare smiles now as their nearest neighbor sashayed her way over to his keg of beer in time with the country band knocking them out from the front porch.

  If anybody asked the three Chisholm brothers what kind of woman Melanie Pruitt was, three different answers would come back. She was a cute kid who didn’t know what she really wanted; she wore her heart, usually broken, on her sleeve for all the world to see; and she was a tomboy who wouldn’t think twice about playing along with, or even instigating, a good practical joke.

  From her point of view, Caleb knew, Melanie considered herself none of those things, and all of them. She was right on both points. They’d known her all her life. She was the kid sister they’d never had. She’d been in love with Sloan, cried on Caleb’s shoulder when that had proved to be all one-sided, and helped Justin egg the high school principal’s house on Halloween.

  As far as anyone in the Chisholm family was concerned, Mel was solid gold.

  “Hey, Caleb. Some party.” Her grin curved her mouth but did not reach the depths of those emerald-green eyes.

  This troubled Caleb. Melanie had supposedly been over Sloan for a couple of years now. She had made friends with Emily, and encouraged Sloan to marry the woman. Now she came to the party held in honor of their marriage, and something was bothering her.

  Her gaze strayed, and he followed it. She stared at Sloan and Emily as they two-stepped their way around the dance floor, laughing together as if they didn’t have a care in the world. And to them, they didn’t. Not this night, anyway.

  “Dammit, Melanie,” Caleb complained. “I thought you were over him.”

  Melanie blinked and looked up at Caleb. Twin lines formed between her eyes. “What? Who?”

  “Who, hell. Sloan.” It was all he could do to keep from shaking her. “You were staring at him like you just lost your best friend.”

  Her eyes widened. “I was not. I wasn’t even looking at him, much less thinking about him.”

  She seemed sincere enough, Caleb thought, but something was definitely troubling her. “If it’s not Sloan, then what’s wrong?”

  Melanie shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

  “Come on, Melanie. This is me you’re talking to.”

  “Okay, I’ll rephrase. It’s nothing I want to talk about, but it has nothing to do with Sloan. You know better than that, or you should.”

  He shrugged. “I thought I did. You’re sure you’re over him?”

  She narrowed those deep green eyes at him. “You’re going to make me mad, you keep asking that. I’ve been over him for years. And even if I wasn’t, look at them.” She waved a hand toward Sloan and Emily on the dance floor. The tall, dark-skinned man and the small golden-haired woman danced and gazed at each other as if they were the only two people in the world. “Even a blind person can see how perfect they are together, how much in love they are. And, Caleb?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not blind.”

  “Got it. Consider me sufficiently chastised.”

  Her lips quirked. “That’ll be the day.”

  “Uncle Caleb, Uncle Caleb, look at us!”

  The cry came from little Libby, Emily’s six-year-old daughter. She and her eight-year-old sister, Janie, were both being whirled around the dance floor by Justin, Caleb and Sloan’s youngest brother. At their begging, Justin had been teaching the girls to two-step for the past week. They had wanted to be ready for the party.

  “Look, Uncle Caleb!” Janie called.

  Uncle. Damn if Caleb didn’t get a great big kick
out of that. He couldn’t help but grin. “I see,” he called back. “Looking good, ladies.”

  “Look at them,” Melanie said, clearly delighted. “Inside of a month he’ll have them doing the Cotton-Eyed Joe and the schottische.”

  Caleb laughed. “Month, nothing. Those two are quick. They’ve already just about got the Cotton-Eyed Joe down pat.”

  “You’re getting a kick out of this uncle thing, aren’t you?” Melanie asked.

  “You better believe it,” he said. “They’re angels, both of them.”

  “Oh, look.” Melanie pointed across the dance floor. “There goes your grandmother, with the Methodist minister.”

  “Grandmother loves to dance,” he said.

  “So do you,” Melanie said. “Why aren’t you out there?”

  “I’m on beer duty.”

  “To heck with that. We can get our own beer. Besides, barracuda at twelve o’clock. Bearing down on you with a gleam in her eyes. You’re going to want to dance with me. And I mean right now.”

  Caleb started to turn around to see what she was talking about, but she grabbed his arm and started dragging him toward the dance floor.

  “Don’t look,” she hissed. “It’s Alyshia Campbell.”

  “Enough said.” Caleb took her right hand in his left, put his right hand on her waist and spun her into a fast two-step amid the other dancers.

  Caleb shuddered. Alyshia Campbell, aka the barracuda, aka the shark, the piranha, the pariah and a dozen other names that weren’t so nice. Alyshia knew about all the names people called her. She enjoyed her nasty reputation.

  She was older than Caleb’s thirty-three by at least ten years, and she was married to the local used-car salesman who happily turned a blind eye to his wife’s numerous boyfriends while she turned a blind eye to his. A person couldn’t talk about Alyshia or Jerry Campbell without getting a bad taste in the mouth. And for some reason, Alyshia had apparently decided Caleb was going to be her next conquest, although word was that she hadn’t dumped her current one yet.