Claiming the Texan's Heart

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  The audience went wild, applauding and whistling. Cricket shot to her feet, but Jack didn’t know where she was in the audience. She was blocked by cheering spectators.

  Suddenly she felt lifted by strong hands, nearly helping her off her feet to the rail. She climbed over to rush across the sawdust-covered arena into Jack’s arms. “I love you,” she told him. “Of course I’ll marry you. You’re the prince I always dreamed of, my rodeo man.”

  He kissed her and the audience clapped louder, loving a happy ending and a good show, and Jack looked down at his deacon, then waved his cowboy hat to his family cheering in the stands.

  Epilogue

  Josiah loved having all his family around. Gisella adored living at the ranch, where it was always active, always filled with love. It was family, the way the Morgans had always dreamed it would be.

  Jack turned, smiling at the huge ranch house he’d never thought he’d call home, where he now found sanctuary and peace. He went inside and found his wife in the den, putting the babies down for naps in the bassinets in front of the huge new windows she’d had installed. Streaming sun illuminated the room, which looked very much like a photograph straight out of Southern Living. The drapes Cricket had created were full, elegant swaths of rich fabric, framing the windows with perfect grace.

  Cricket said she loved living in Union Junction, loved the Morgan ranch. Their lives had changed when Jack won the rodeo, but it had nothing to do with the money and everything to do with Jack’s delight with being a father. He and Cricket had married in a lovely ceremony at the ranch. She’d taken a position as a deacon at a church in Union Junction, thrilled to be doing what she was good at once again. Her parents took over the tea shop, along with Thad, and they were enjoying their new position in the community. They spent a great deal of time running out to see the babies, who seemed to grow by leaps and bounds, and who never lacked loving arms to hold them and adoring hands to guide them. Jack bought Cricket the minivan he’d promised her, but his favorite gift was a three-stone engagement ring, one diamond for each baby she’d blessed him with.

  Josiah gave his son the promised million dollars, which Jack decided to put toward his real dream of endowing a community college in Union Junction. Many times he’d pondered what Cricket had told Josiah that day in the hospital, when she’d told his father Jack was a huge believer in education. The thought had turned into a dream for children of Union Junction to have a college where they could expand their educations without leaving the town, if they wished. Pete, Dane and Gabe helped fund the college, and Josiah was chest-pounding proud. As far as building worlds went, he thought Jack had gotten the hang of it very well.

  Cricket never did parachute again—she said one of them living dangerously was more than enough—but Jack did. He took Gisella up, with Thad’s guidance. The experience was crazy, Gisella and Jack agreed, and it reconstructed a cherished bond that they had both always missed.

  Jack admired his wife’s handiwork for a few more moments, knowing how pleased his father would be with Cricket’s choice of drapes, then gathered his wife into his arms and whispered something to her, soft words not even the babies could have heard.

  But Cricket heard every word her husband spoke to her. She smiled at her rodeo man, and kissed him. “It’s good to be home,” Cricket said, and Jack nodded.

  It had been said before, but there really was no place like home—and Jack’s home was with Cricket and his triplets.

  The true grail for the Morgans had been family.

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Wyoming Cinderella by Melissa Senate.

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  Wyoming Cinderella

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  Chapter One

  There she was.

  Danica Dunbar. The woman of Zeke Dawson’s dreams for as long as he could remember. She stood chatting with another woman in front of Bear Ridge Realty on Main Street. Zeke hadn’t seen Danica since they’d graduated from high school thirteen years ago, when he’d left town and tried not to look back. He’d never forgotten her, though.

  Back in middle school and high school, when he’d have a bad day—and those were plentiful—he’d see Danica walking down the halls, her long, wavy, light blond hair flowing behind her, and the fight he’d had with his dad would leave his head. He’d find his father passed out drunk on the front porch in the middle of winter, no coat, he and his siblings using all their strength to pull him inside, and then at school, he’d see Danica by her locker, dabbing on strawberry-scented lip balm, and it was like magic: his home life evaporated. She’d always had a boyfriend and the rare time she was single, Zeke was dating someone who’d already bought a dress for whatever school dance, so they’d never had a chance. He’d probably spoken to her only a handful of times back then.

  Danica looked just the same, too, beautiful in her long red wool coat and shiny black heels. Zeke stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, surprised that he wasn’t thunderstruck or hit by lightning, that he didn’t hear a marching band with cymbals clanging in his head, something to signify seeing Danica, star of his fantasies for so long, after all these years.

  Maybe he was too old for that nonsense. At thirty-one, Zeke was a workaholic who’d quit the rat race—just last week—and had opened his own consulting firm here in Bear Ridge. He’d spent months on that decision, but last Christmas, when he was visiting his siblings at the family ranch, he’d heard Danica was getting divorced, and that info had been added to the Pros side about moving back to Bear Ridge from Cheyenne. Not that he was glad she’d gone through such a terrible life upheaval and heartache. But they were both finally available at the same time—and Zeke was going to make his move.

  Danica headed into the realty office. Interesting. Was she a Realtor? He was in the market for a house. A perfect reason to reacquaint. The woman she’d been chatting with stopped in front of his own office—Dawson Solutions, Inc.—a few doors down and appeared to be giving herself a once-over in the glass windowpane.

  Ah. That had to be Molly Orton, his two o’clock. She was ten minutes early—a good sign in his book. He’d been interviewing nonstop the past few days, and no one had been quite right for the position of his administrative assistant. He’d just spent the past hour complaining about that over burgers with two of his brothers at the diner.

  The light finally turned green and he headed across Main Street, his interviewee frowning at her reflection as she tried to tuck a long brown spiral curl into the low bun at the nape of her neck. The bun exploded, wild dark curls springing everywhere. He smiled and held back a bit, giving her a chance to redo the bun. She nodded at herself, then headed inside, glanced around and sat down in one of his new leather club chairs in the reception area.

  Zeke approached the office, the matte silver letters spelling out Dawson Solutions, Inc. giving him a deep sense of satisfaction. He’d never expected to move home and open his own business, but circumstances—from the call of family and his pint-size relatives to the breakup from hell with a colleague—had worn him down.

  He pulled open the door, his interviewee popping to her feet with her hand extended. He shook it—warm and firm and smooth. Molly had taken off her long puffy coat and was wearing a light beige pantsuit with a scarf at her neck. A silver pin in the shape of a cat was on her lapel.

  “I’m Molly Orton, here to interview for the administrative assistant position,” she said, that long spiral curl zinging out of the bun again. She shoved it behind her ear, a dimple in her right cheek appearing as she added, “Oh, but I’m sure you know that. I mean, we went to high school together. Middle s
chool. Elementary, too. We were in the same kindergarten class. Mrs. Piedmont with those sparkly red cat’s-eye glasses. Gosh, I loved her.”

  They’d gone to school together? Her name hadn’t registered at all when he’d gone over her application and résumé.

  “I don’t remember Mrs. Piedmont or her glasses,” he said, taking off his coat and hanging it beside hers on the wrought-iron coatrack. “Though the name sounds kind of familiar. I’ve been gone from Bear Ridge a long time.” Over the years, Zeke would be surprised by a random memory flitting into his head, some good, some bad. He’d always tried to limit his thoughts on his hometown to his talisman, Danica Dunbar. “Glad to be back, though,” he added with a smile. That was true.

  Molly started to say something but then clamped her lips shut, her brown eyes widening a bit as she glanced out the front window. He turned to see what had snagged her attention. Nothing out of the ordinary. A few people were crossing Main Street, including the barber from the next block walking his elderly dachshund, and an older woman wheeling a baby stroller with a white box balancing on the handles.

  “So, let’s head to my office. Coffee?” he asked, gesturing toward a short hall. “My sister gave me a great macadamia-nut blend as an office-warming. I could go for a cup myself.” He led the way, appreciating the space he’d overhauled last week: the gray walls, the abstract-art carpet tiles, the sleek charcoal metal and leather furnishings, and the paintings and illustrations. He stopped in front of the coffee station set up on a credenza.

  Molly Orton was staring out the front window again. Hmm. Did she have an attention issue? Would she be staring out the window instead of compiling lists of companies that he needed for research? Staring out instead of answering the phone?

  She snapped her attention back to him. “I’d love a cup. And your sister is Daisy Dawson, right? I don’t know her, really, but Bear Ridge is a small town and of course everyone knows the Dawson Family Guest Ranch. You’re one of six siblings.” Her gaze moved to the window again.

  He set the coffee maker to brew, disappointed that he’d likely have to keep interviewing. He’d been so impressed with Molly’s résumé. Solid experience. Not a single typo. But she couldn’t even make small talk without getting distracted?

  She was right about the ranch; everyone did know it—once upon a time because of how his father had destroyed the original place and now for what a beloved, popular fixture the rebuilt guest ranch had become in under a year. He nodded and reached for two silver Dawson Solutions mugs. “They’ve all moved back home, too, and four of them are married with children. My oldest brother, Ford—he’s a cop here in town—and I are the lone holdouts, but—”

  The earsplitting wail of a baby interrupted him.

  Molly frowned and looked toward the window again. He did, too. The baby in the stroller—maybe a year old—was screaming bloody murder. As the woman pushing the stroller approached the sidewalk, leaning back the handles to raise the wheels over the curb, the box that had been resting on the handles fell off into the street.

  “WAAAAAH!” came another bloodcurdling wail.

  Molly slapped a palm to her forehead. “Excuse me for just one moment,” she said, and went racing out the door. He was right behind her. She hurried to the baby, undoing the straps and lifting the little girl out, holding her against the jacket of her pantsuit. “It’s okay, sweetsums, Mommy’s got you.” She patted the little back, the baby letting out a big yawn.

  Ah. Suddenly things made sense.

  “Mom, are you okay?” Molly asked the older woman, who looked like she was on the verge of tears.

  “I’m okay,” her mother said. “But I doubt the cake is.” She pointed at the white box in the street by the curb.

  Zeke tried to pick up the box, but as he did, the box fell apart and something resembling a cake—lots of pink and white—slid out and landed on his very expensive Italian leather shoes.

  “Oh, dear,” Molly’s mother said.

  Molly grimaced, shifting the baby in her arms. “I’m so sorry about your shoes. I’ll pay for a new pair, of course.”

  “Out of her first paycheck, maybe?” her mother asked with a sly smile.

  Zeke grinned at her mother. He liked her. He liked both of them.

  “Hey, no worries,” he said, flicking his right foot to get a wedge of cake with lots of pink frosting off his shoe. “I’m sorrier the cake got wrecked. Strawberry shortcake? My favorite, too.”

  The two women looked at each other, and he could see relief flitting over their expressions. Zeke could easily see the family resemblance. The mother also had the wild curls, though her hair stopped at her chin, and they both had big brown eyes. “Don’t kill me, honey,” Molly’s mother said. “I shouldn’t have brought Lucy anywhere near your interview, but I guess she saw you through the window and wanted her mama.” She turned to Zeke and thrust out her hand. “Have I even introduced myself? Abby Orton, Molly’s mom. And that little darling is Lucy. She’s a year old today. Isn’t she just precious?” She walked over to Molly and made a funny face at her grandbaby, reaching out her arms.

  “Lucy, you go with Nana, okay, sweetie-kins? Mommy will you see in a little while at home for your party.”

  The baby started screaming again, holding out her arms for her mother.

  Molly sighed. “Or I could just leave now since I completely bombed this job interview,” she said under her breath. “I apologize for wasting your time, Mr. Dawson.”

  “Zeke. And of course you didn’t bomb or waste anything. In fact, I’d say rushing out of anywhere for a family emergency is a sign that you know your priorities.”

  Molly’s eyes widened.

  Her mother beamed. “Oh, she does. Molly is the best mother. And she’s on her own. I tell you, it’s not easy being a single working mother of a year-old baby, but Molly makes it work. She’s so organized and efficient!”

  “Mom,” Molly whispered, her cheeks flushed.

  Lucy let out a giant yawn and this time went right into Nana’s arms.

  “I’ll just get my grandbaby home,” Abby said. “See you later, honey. Good luck!” she added before sliding a hopeful look at Zeke.

  He watched her mother wheel a quiet Lucy down Main Street, turning at the corner. “Well, let me just get as much of the cake as I can onto the bottom of the box and into that trash can,” he said, “and then we’ll head back in.”

  “I’ll help,” she said.

  They scooped the destroyed strawberry shortcake onto a section of the box and got it into the trash can on the corner. Above the sweet smell of the cake he inhaled the faint scent of something spicy, Molly’s perfume.

  “I’ll completely understand if you want to call a halt to the interview,” she said, tucking another escaped curl behind her ear, a small glob of frosting on the sleeve of her jacket.

  “Are you kidding? With your very impressive résumé? Not a chance. And I meant what I said. If my kid was screeching outside while my mom was trying to deal with that and carry a birthday cake that just dropped, I’d go help, too. That you did wins you interview points.”

  Her brown eyes lit up. “So we can start over?”

  “Tell you what. You go home and be with your birthday girl. I’ll see you first thing Monday morning.”

  Molly tilted her head. “We’ll resume the interview then?”

  “The job is yours, Molly. Welcome to Dawson Solutions.” He quickly ran down the excellent benefits package as they ferried cake on the battered box pieces to the trash can.

  In the ten minutes he’d been in her company, he’d learned quite a bit about Molly Orton and he knew she was the candidate he was looking for. He didn’t have to ask his list of questions. She’d worked for an accounting firm for the past three years, her boss a known jerk (per a quick vetting of her résumé), which told him she knew her way around difficult people and stuck it t
hrough—to a breaking point, since she’d quit that job a few days ago, all detailed in her cover letter. He liked the honestly. And based on how she’d handled herself just now, he knew she’d be able to take on trying scenarios, key in a consultancy where nervous clients called at all hours and expected their problems to be handled. Zeke Dawson was a handler. And he needed his admin to be one, too.

  “Wow, that’s even better than I hoped. Thank you, Zeke. I accept!”

  He smiled. “I’ll see you Monday at nine a.m., then. I’d like to take you out to lunch to welcome you to the office and I can fill you in on the particulars of the firm and all that.”

  “Great,” she said. She hurried inside the office and put on her coat, then came back out. “Thanks again,” she said, and then practically ran down the street and disappeared around the corner.

  He had a good feeling about hiring Molly. There was something about her, something efficient and capable and calm. She’d be an asset with clients who came to the office for meetings.

  As he was about to head back inside Dawson Solutions he realized he forgot to bring up Danica Dunbar; he probably could have very easily found out from Molly if Danica was seriously dating anyone. But for once, he’d forgotten all about his old dream girl. He’d ask Molly about Danica at lunch on Monday.