The Cowboy's Family

“Don’t need a housekeeper?”

He shrugged off the sarcasm in her tone. They both knew that he needed a housekeeper. What he didn’t need was that little smile of hers making him feel as if he needed a housekeeper and an intervention.

“Yeah, I don’t need a housekeeper.” It hadn’t been what he’d planned to say, but it worked.

What he really didn’t need was someone who smelled like spring and who reminded him of everything he’d lost.

Chapter Two

Rachel drove away from the Johnson ranch and she was pretty glad to see it in her rearview mirror. She wanted to be a good distance away before the girls released the balloons with messages to their mother. It wouldn’t have done anyone any good to have Rachel crying by their side.

She really should have known that she wouldn’t be able to do this, spend more time with them, and stay detached. After years of considering herself a real pro at detachment, two little girls and a cowboy were going to be her downfall. The signs had been pretty obvious. The girls had been in the nursery and her preschool Sunday school class for six months and it had been way easy to fall in love with them.

Of course Wyatt wasn’t included in those emotions. She felt sorry for him, nothing else. After hearing his conversation with Ryder, she knew he felt about the same for her.

It shouldn’t matter to her what he thought. At twenty-nine, when she finally knew who she was and what she wanted out of life, Wyatt Johnson’s opinion shouldn’t matter. But old feelings of inadequacy didn’t care what she thought of herself now. Those old emotions had a way of pushing to the surface when she least needed them.

So what? She would never be homecoming queen and guys like Wyatt Johnson always laughed behind her back.

It didn’t matter anymore. She wasn’t the fat girl in school or the rebel in the back of a police car trying to prove to people that she wasn’t the good little preacher’s kid.

She knew who she was, and who God wanted her to be. She worked in children’s ministry, helped when her mother’s lupus flared, and she loved her life in Dawson.

All of those pretty sermons to herself didn’t take away a sudden desire for a big, fat chocolate bar. Or brownies with ice cream. She reached for her purse and dug her hand through the side pocket for a pack of gum. As she drove she managed to get a stick of peppermint gum out of the package.

She shoved the gum in her mouth and chewed, trying to pretend it helped the way chocolate helped. It didn’t.

Forget Wyatt, she had other things to do. She was supposed to work for Etta Forrester that afternoon. Etta designed and sewed a line of tie-dye clothing that she sold to specialty boutiques around the country. Etta made sundresses, skirts, pants, tops and even purses. Rachel worked for her a couple of days a week, more if Etta needed. With Etta’s granddaughter, Andie, married to Ryder Johnson and Andie’s twin, Alyson, married to Jason Bradshaw, Etta had more need for help these days.

She drove down the road and pulled into Etta’s driveway. The bright yellow Victorian with the lavender wicker furniture on the wide porch managed to lift Rachel’s spirits. Etta stood on the porch with a watering can in her hand and a floppy hat covering her lavender-gray hair. She waved as she poured water on the flowers. Last week she’d made a trip to Grove and she’d come home with a truck load of plants for the baskets and flower gardens.

Rachel parked under the shade of an oak tree and stepped out of her car. As she walked up the wide steps of the porch, Etta put down the watering can and pulled off her gardening gloves. Her nails were long, painted purple and never chipped. It was a mystery how Etta could take care of this farm, make her clothing and always be perfectly manicured.

The one time Rachel asked how she did it, Etta laughed and said, “Oh, honey, life teaches those little skills.”

Rachel doubted it. She always felt about as together as a pair of old shoes falling apart at the seams. She couldn’t paint her nails without smudging at least one. And her hair. The only good thing that had ever happened to her hair was a ponytail holder.

“Good to see you, honey.” Etta slipped an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “I thought we’d have tea out here before we get started on those T-shirts.”

“Tea sounds wonderful.”

“You look about wrung out. Did you clean Wyatt’s house today?”

Rachel nodded and picked dead blooms off the petunias.

Etta lifted her sunglasses and stared hard. “Well, tell me how it went.”

“The place was definitely a mess.” She shrugged and kept plucking blooms, tossing them over the rail into the yard. “And so is Wyatt.”

“Oh, he isn’t such a mess. He just needs a little time.” Etta lifted the little watch she wore on a chain around her neck. “Goodness, speaking of time. I’m going to keep watering. Do you want to bring the tea out?”

“I can do that.”

Etta had lowered the sunglasses. The big rhinestone encrusted frames covered half her face. “And try not to look so down in the mouth, honey. You’re going to depress me and you know I don’t depress easily.”

Rachel smiled. “Is that better?”

“Not much.” Etta laughed and went back to watering.

“I’ll be back in a few.”

“I’ll be here.”

The dog that had been sleeping under a tree started barking as Rachel fixed the tea tray. She picked up the wooden tray and headed down the hallway to the front door. The door was open and a breeze lifted the curtains in the parlor. Voices carried on that breeze.

“So you think you’re going to learn to cook something more than canned spaghetti and hamburgers?” Etta laughed and said something else that Rachel didn’t hear.

She stopped at the screen door and looked out. Etta was standing on the sidewalk and Wyatt stood next to her. Etta’s skirt flapped in the breeze. Wyatt had taken off his hat and held it behind his back. They were both facing the opposite direction and didn’t see Rachel.

“It can’t be that hard to learn, Etta. I’ve got to show Violet that I’m capable.”

“Of course you’re capable.” Etta turned and waved when she saw Rachel. “There’s Rachel with my tea. Well, have a seat and while you have tea, I’ll look for a cookbook.”

“I appreciate it, Etta, but I don’t have time for tea. The girls are waiting in the truck. We’re going grocery shopping.”

Etta argued, of course she did. “Well, get the girls out.”

Wyatt laughed, white teeth flashing in a kind of hot smile. He shook his head. “I’m not getting them out of the truck. If I do, I’ll never round them up and get them back in the truck. I just thought rather than taking my chance with any old cookbook I found in the store, I’d see if you had one that spelled it all out.”

Etta held the rail and walked up the steps, Wyatt following. “I’ll see what I have. Something with casseroles would be best.”

“If I can throw the whole meal in one pan, I guess that would be the best thing.”

“You ought to know how to cook, Wyatt. It isn’t like you’re a kid.”

“I never thought much about it, Etta.” His neck turned a little red. “I guess I always thought…”

Etta’s eyes misted and she patted his arm. “I’ll be right back. I’ll pick you out a couple and you’ll be cooking us dinner in no time.”

After Etta walked away, Rachel didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t been at a loss for words in years. Probably about twenty-eight of them. Her mom liked to tell people that she was talking in complete sentences when she was two and that she’d been talking ever since.

But at that moment she was pretty near speechless and so was Wyatt Johnson.

“My mother-in-law is coming to visit.” He had placed the cowboy hat back on his head. He leaned against the rail of the porch, tall and confident. His boots were scuffed and his jeans were faded and worn in spots.

How many people would guess that the Johnson brothers had part ownership of a bank in Tulsa and subdivisions named after their family? She only knew those things because Andie, Wyatt’s sister-in-law and Etta’s granddaughter, had told her. Andie had married Ryder Johnson before Christmas and their twin babies were due in a month or so.

“I see.” She nearly offered to help, and then she didn’t. She’d already told him she’d clean or watch the girls. He’d rejected both offers.

“She’s worried that I’m not coping.” His smile lifted one corner of his mouth and he shrugged. “I guess it won’t hurt me or the girls to have a home-cooked meal once in a while.”

“I imagine it won’t.” Rachel poured her tea. “Do you want a cup?”

“No, thanks. I like my tea on ice and out of a glass that holds more than a swallow.”

She smiled and listened for Etta’s footsteps. Etta would give him a long lecture if she heard him demean her afternoon tea ritual.

It was a few minutes before Etta appeared, her arms holding more than a few cookbooks. “Here’s a few to get you started.”

“That’s a half dozen, Etta, not a few.”

“Well, you can find what you really like this way.”

He took the books from her arms. “Thanks, Etta. Rachel, see you at church.”

He nodded to each of them and walked down the steps.

The truck was pulling down the driveway when Etta laughed a little and whistled. “That’s tension you could cut with a knife.”

“What?” Rachel nearly poured Etta’s tea on the table.

“The two of you, circling like a couple of barn cats. I’m no expert, but I think it’s called chemistry.”

“I think it’s called, Wyatt knows that everyone, including his brother, is trying to push me off on him.”

“And would that be such a bad thing?” Etta sat down on the lavender wicker settee.

“I’m not sure, but I think he believes it probably would be.”

“What about you?”

Rachel sipped her tea and ignored the question. Etta smiled and her brows shot up, but Rachel didn’t bite. No way, no how was she chasing after Wyatt Johnson or any other man, for that matter. She’d done her chasing, she’d had her share of fix-ups, and she’d learned that it worked better to let things happen the way they were supposed to happen.

Or not. But she had decided a long time ago that being alone was better than pushing her way into the life of the wrong person.

It had been two days since Rachel cleaned and his house still looked pretty decent. Wyatt stood in the kitchen with its dark cabinets, black granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. A chef’s kitchen for a guy who had to borrow cookbooks because he couldn’t make mac and cheese. That was pretty bad.

He hadn’t planned it, but Rachel was front and center in his mind again. She was a strange one. First glance and he would have thought she had all the confidence in the world. But the other day on Etta’s porch, there had been something soft and kind of lost in her expression, in those dark eyes of hers.

Not that it was any of his concern.

He dropped bread into the toaster and started the coffeemaker. Excited voices and little feet pattering overhead meant the girls were up. His day was about to start.

At least he’d had fifteen minutes to himself. That didn’t happen often these days. It hadn’t happened much in the last eighteen months. Since Wendy left him.

He stopped in front of the kitchen window and looked out. For a minute he closed his eyes and remembered that he used to pray. He used to believe that with Wendy he could build a life far from this ranch and the chaos of his childhood. He opened his eyes and shook his head. Prayer these days was abbreviated. It went something like: God, get me through another day.

That would have to do for now. It was all he had in him, other than anger and guilt.

Eighteen months of trying to figure out what he could have done differently. He was still trying to come to terms with the reality that he couldn’t have done anything more than he’d done. Wendy had made a choice.

The choice to leave him and their daughters. She wrote a note, opened a bottle of sleeping pills and she’d left them for good.

Eighteen months of wondering what he could have done to stop her from going away.

He breathed in deep and it didn’t hurt as much as yesterday, even less than a month ago. He was making it. He had to make it—for the girls. He had to smile and make each day better for them. And he calculated that he had about two minutes before they hit the kitchen, ready for breakfast. Two minutes to pull it together and make this day better.

On cue, they rushed in, still in their pajamas. Man, they made it easy to smile. He leaned to hug them and pulled them up to hold them both. He brushed his whiskered cheek against Kat and she giggled.

“What are we going to do today, girlies?”

“Get a pony!” Kat shouted and then she giggled some more.

“Nope, not a pony.” He kissed her cheek.

“Let Miss Rachel clean again.” Molly’s tone was serious but her smile was real, her eyes shining. She knew how to work him.

He sat both girls on the granite-topped island that sat in the center of the kitchen. “Miss Rachel? Why do you want her to clean?”

He liked the idea of a clean house, but he was determined to find a nice grandmotherly type. He wanted control top socks and cookies baking in the oven. It sounded a lot less complicated than Miss Rachel I’ve-Got-Secrets Waters.

Kat sighed, as if he couldn’t possibly be her dad or he would understand why they picked Rachel. She leaned close. “She hugs me.”

“She draws pictures and sings.” Molly crossed her arms and her little chin came up. “She has sheep.”

“I’m sure she does. But she’s really busy with church and helping Miss Etta.”

“She doesn’t mind cleaning.” Molly was growing up and her tone said that she had a handle on this situation.

“Look, girls, she just cleaned for us that one time. Uncle Ryder hired her.” He reached into the cabinet under the island and pulled out a cereal box. Add that to his list for the day. He needed to go to the store again. Even though he’d had a list, he’d forgotten a lot. “How about cereal?”

“And a pony?” Kat grinned and her eyes were huge.

A pony. Would it work to buy himself a break from this?

“Maybe a pony.” He was so weak. “But first we have to eat breakfast and then we need to go outside and feed the horses and cows we already have.”

He lifted them down from the counter and sat them each on a stool at the island.

“You girls are getting big.”

Molly. He shook his head because she wasn’t just big, she acted like an old soul, as if she’d had to learn too much too soon. And she had.

Most of it he doubted she remembered. If she did, the memories were vague. But she remembered being afraid. He knew she remembered that.

He took bowls out of the cabinet and set one in front of each girl and one for himself. He opened the cereal cabinet door again and looked at the half-dozen boxes. “Chocolate stuff, fruity stuff or kind-of-healthy stuff?”

The girls giggled a little.

“That does it, you get kind-of-healthy today. I think you’ve had way too much sugar because you’re both so sweet.” He grabbed the box and then reached for the girls and held them, kissing their cheeks. “Yep, sweet enough.”

Normal moments, the kind a dad should share with his daughters. Eighteen long months of going through the motions, but they were all coming back to life. They were building something new here, in this house. They would have good memories. He hadn’t expected to have something good for his family here, in Dawson. His own dad hadn’t provided that for him and Ryder.

But he wasn’t his dad. He guessed he learned something from his dad’s mistakes. Like how to be faithful. And how to be there.

His phone rang and he answered it as he poured cereal into three bowls. Two partially filled and his to the top. He talked as he poured milk and dug in a drawer for spoons. When he hung up both girls were looking at him.

“I have to go pick up something for Uncle Ryder.” He ate his cereal standing across the counter from the girls.

“A pony?” Kat giggled as she spooned cereal into her mouth. Milk dribbled down her chin and her brown eyes twinkled.

“No, a bull.”

“We can go?” Molly didn’t touch her cereal and he knew, man, he knew how scared she was. He was just starting to get over it, he hadn’t been a two-year-old kid alone with a mommy who wouldn’t wake up.

That kind of fear and pain changed a person. Molly was watching him, waiting for him to be the grown-up, the one who smiled and showed her that it was okay to be happy.

“Of course you can go.” He took a bite of cereal and she followed his example. She even smiled. He let out a sigh that she didn’t hear.

Fifteen minutes later he walked out the back door with them on his heels. Today they’d slipped back into the old pattern of leaving dishes on the counter and dirty clothes on the floor in the bedroom. He didn’t have time to worry about it right now. He’d barely had time to pull on his boots and find his hat.

Horses saw him and whinnied. The six mares in the field closest to the house headed toward their feed trough. He whistled and in the other field about a dozen horses lifted their heads and headed toward the barn, ready for grain.

A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Kat and Molly were close behind him. They weren’t right on his heels now, but they were following, grabbing up dandelions and chasing after the dog.

He turned away from the girls and headed for the fence. He watched for a chestnut mare. She walked a short distance behind the others. Her limp was slight today. She’d gotten tangled in old barbed wire out in the field. Sometimes a good rain washed up a lot of junk from the past.

This mare had stepped into that junk one day last week after a gully washer of a rain. He’d found her with gashes in her fetlock and blood still oozing from the wound. She headed for the fence and him, the extra attention over the last week had turned her into a pet.

A car driving down the road honked. He turned to wave. The red convertible slowed and pulled into his drive. The girls hurried to his side, jabbering about Rachel’s car. He had worked hard at building a safe life for his girls.

What was it about Rachel that shook it all up? He glanced down at his girls and they didn’t look too scared.

He tossed the thought aside. Rachel was about the safest person in the world. She was a Sunday school teacher and the preacher’s daughter.

So what part of her life had been crazy enough for butterfly tattoos?

Rachel had meant to drive on past the Johnson ranch, but the girls waving dandelions had done it for her. She had seen them from a distance, first noticing the horses running for the fence and then spotting Wyatt and his girls. She had slowed to watch and then she’d turned.

As she pulled up to the barn she told herself this was about the craziest thing she’d done since… She had to think about it and one thing came to mind. The tattoo.

She’d thought about having it removed, but she kept it to remind herself to make decisions based on the future and not the moment. So what in the world was she doing here, at Wyatt Johnson’s? He probably wanted her around as much as she wanted to be there.

This was definitely a spontaneous decision and not one that was planned out. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The girls dropped the dandelions and raced across the lawn, the dog at their heels. As she pushed her door open, Molly and Kat were there, little faces scrubbed clean and smiles bright. No matter what, he’d done a great job with the girls, even if he did seem to be color-blind. That had to be the reason the girls never seemed to have an outfit that matched.

This time they were in their pajamas.

“What are you girls up to?”

“We’re going with Daddy.” Molly held tight to her hand.

Wyatt had disappeared. Into the barn, she decided. She could hear him talking and heard a door shut with a thud. He walked back out, his hat pulled down to block the sun from his face. He had a bag of grain tossed over his shoulder, his biceps bulging.

She let the girls tug her hands to follow him. He stopped at a gate and unlatched it with his free hand. Cattle were at a trough, waiting. From outside the fence she watched him yank the string on the top of the bag and pour it down the length of the trough. He walked back with the empty bag. After closing the gate he tossed the bag into a nearby barrel.

And then he was staring at her. The hat shaded his face, but it definitely didn’t hide the questions in his dark eyes. And she didn’t have answers. What could she tell him, that her car suddenly had a mind of its own? But she’d have to think of something because the girls were pulling her in his direction.

“What are you up to today?” He pulled off leather gloves and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans.

She didn’t have an answer. The girls were holding her hands and she was staring into the dark eyes of a man who had been hurt to the deepest level. And survived. Those eyes were staring her down, waiting for an answer.

She was on his territory. She’d never felt it more than at that moment, that territorial edge of his. He protected the ones he loved.

“I saw the girls and I realized you might not know about our church picnic Wednesday evening. Instead of our normal service, we’re roasting hot dogs and marshmallows.”

It wasn’t a lie, she had forgotten to remind him. He seemed to need reminding from time to time. He had a degree in ministry and yet church seemed to be something he forced himself to do. She got that. She had done her share of avoiding church, too.

He’d actually been in youth ministry until eighteen months ago.

“Sounds like fun.” He glanced at his watch.

“I should go. Listen, if you need anything, any more help around here…”

“Right, I’ll let you know.”

She should have known better than to think he’d want to talk. A momentary glitch in her good sense had made her believe that he might want a friend. But then, he probably had friends. He’d grown up here.

“See you two Wednesday.” Time to walk away.

Kat grabbed her hand. “Come and see my frog.”

“Kat, you don’t have a frog.” Wyatt reached for her but Kat pulled Rachel the other direction and two-year-olds were pretty strong when they had their mind set on something.

“I have a frog.” She didn’t let go and Rachel didn’t have the heart to tell her no. She went willingly in the direction of an old log.

“Is that where your frog lives?”

“There are millions of frogs.” Kat dropped to her knees and pushed the chunk of wood. Sure enough, little frogs hopped out. Actually, they were baby toads. She didn’t correct the toddler.

“Wow, Kat, there are a bunch of them.” Rachel kneeled next to the child. “Do you have names for them?”

Kat nodded. “But I don’t ’member.”

“I think they’re beautiful. I bet they like living under this log.”

Kat nodded, her eyes were big and curls hung in her eyes. Rachel pushed the hair back from the child’s face and Kat smiled. A shadow loomed over them. Kat glanced up and Rachel turned to look up at Wyatt. He was smiling down at his daughter. The smile didn’t include Rachel.

He had a toe-curling smile, though, and she wanted her toes to curl. Which was really just plain wrong.

“Kat, we have to go, honey.” He got hold of Molly’s hand. “I have to finish feeding and you two need to be getting ready to jump in the truck.”

“We’re getting a pony.” Kat patted Rachel’s cheek with a dirty hand that had just released a toad back to its home under the log.

“Are you?” She looked up and Wyatt shook his head.

“We’re picking up a bull.”

“I see.” Rachel stood and dusted off her jeans. “I could stay here with them, Wyatt.”

She had offered the other day and he’d said no, so why in the world was she offering again? Oh, right, because she loved, loved, loved rejection. And to make it better, she loved that look on his face when his eyes narrowed and he looked at her as if she had really fallen off the proverbial turnip truck.