The Cowboy's Family

He took in a breath and she wondered why it was so hard for him to leave them. “No, they can go with me.”

“But we could stay, and Miss Rachel could help us draw pictures.” Molly bit down on rosy lips and big tears welled up in her eyes. “I always get carsick.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“That’s a thought.” Wyatt picked up his little girl. “Molly, you’re going with me.”

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’ll see you later.” Rachel brushed a hand down Molly’s little back.

Yes, driving up here had been the wrong thing to do. She leaned to kiss Kat’s cheek and then she walked away. She had a life. She had things to do today. She definitely didn’t need to get tied up in the heartache that was Wyatt Johnson’s life.

She made it to her car without looking back.

Wyatt put Molly down and he held tight to Kat’s hand because he had a feeling that if he let go, she was going to run after Rachel. Molly was looking up at him, as if she was wondering why in the world he wasn’t the one running after her new favorite person.

He needed this as much has he needed to hit his thumb with a hammer. If God would give him a break, he’d get the hammer and hit his thumb twice.

He wasn’t going to run after a woman, not one who made more trouble in his life. And that’s what she was doing. She was causing him a lot of trouble. She was upsetting the organized chaos of his life with her sunny personality and cute little songs.

She was getting in her car and Kat was next to him, begging him to stop her. He stared at the preacher’s daughter in jean shorts and a T-shirt. Not for himself, for Kat. Man, he didn’t need this. He let go of his daughter’s hand and went after Rachel. Yelling when she started her car. Waving for her to stop when she put it in reverse.

The radio was blasting from the convertible. She loved music. He shook his head because today she was listening to Taylor Swift and a song about teen romance gone wrong. He really didn’t need this.

She had stopped and she turned the radio down and waited for him to get to her. This was proof that he’d do anything for his girls. He’d even put up with Miss Merry Sunshine for a couple of hours if it made Molly and Kat smile.

When he reached the car she turned and lifted her sunglasses, pushing them on top of her head. He realized that her eyes were darker than he’d thought, and bigger. They were soft and asked questions.

“The girls really want you to go with us. I thought it might help. They’ll be bored if this takes too long.”

She just stared at him.

“I’ll pay you,” he offered with a shrug that he hoped was casual and not as pathetic as he imagined.

She laughed and the sound went through him. “Pay me?”

“For watching them.”

She was going to make him beg. He shoved his hat down a little tighter on his head and then loosened it.

“You don’t have to pay me. It would be kind of fun to see that bull. Is it one they’ll use for bull riding?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Fun. Where should I park?”

He pointed to the carport near the barn. “That’ll keep it a little cooler. I have to finish feeding and the girls have to get dressed.”

“Can I help?”

Hadn’t she helped enough?

“No, I can do it.” He walked away because it was a lot easier than staying there to answer more of her questions. He knew it probably seemed rude, but she didn’t have a clue.

She didn’t know that he was rebuilding his family and that it took every bit of energy he had. Everything he had went to his girls, into making them smile and making their lives stable.

As he walked into the barn he glanced back. She leaned to talk to Kat. Curls fell forward, framing her face, but a hand came up to push her hair back. She smiled and leaned to kiss his daughter on the cheek. And then the three of them, Rachel, Kat and Molly, headed into the house.

He walked into the shadowy interior of the barn and flipped on a light. He breathed in the familiar scents. Cows, horses, hay and leather. He could deal with this. He couldn’t deal with Mary Poppins.

Chapter Three

If it hadn’t been for Kat and Molly she wouldn’t have climbed into this truck and taken a ride with Wyatt. But the girls, with their sweet smiles and tight hugs, they were what mattered. Little girls should never hurt. They shouldn’t hide their pain in cheesecake or think their self-worth depended on the brand and size of their jeans.

Oh, wait, that had been her, her childhood, her pain.

“You aren’t carsick, are you?” Wyatt’s voice was soft, a little teasing. Yummier than cheesecake. And she hadn’t had cheesecake in forever.

She glanced his way and smiled. “I don’t get carsick.”

“Good to know. The girls do. Not on roads like this, fortunately.”

“We keep a trash can back here.” Molly informed her with the voice of young authority. Rachel heard the tap, tap of a tiny foot on plastic.

She looked over her shoulder at the two little girls on the bench seat behind her. Kat’s eyes were a little droopy and she nodded, her head sagging and then bouncing up. Molly looked as if she had a lot more to say but she was holding back.

Poor baby girls. Wyatt loved them, but there was an empty space in their lives that a mom should have filled. And they wouldn’t even have memories of her as they grew older. They would have pictures and stories their dad told.

If he told stories. She chanced a quick glance in his direction and thought he probably didn’t tell stories about the wife he’d lost. He probably had a boat load of memories he wished he could lose.

“Here we are.” He flipped on the turn signal and smiled at her as he pulled into a gated driveway. “Can you pull through and I’ll open the gate?”

“I can open the gate.” She reached for the door handle and opened it, ignoring his protests. It was a lot easier to be outside away from him. A soft breeze blew in warm spring air and she could hear cattle at a nearby dairy farm.

She loved Oklahoma. Growing up she’d lived just about everywhere, but mostly in bigger towns and cities. She’d never felt like she belonged. Maybe because she had always been the pastor’s kid, poor in wealthy subdivisions, trying to fit in. Or maybe because deep down she’d always wanted to be a country girl.

She had wanted to jump out of trucks and open gates. She had studied about sheep, wool and gardening. Pitiful as it sounded, she’d watched so many episodes of The Waltons, she could quote lines. She couldn’t think about it now without smiling.

The truck eased through the gate and stopped. She pushed the gate closed and latched the chain. When she climbed back into the truck, Wyatt wasn’t smiling.

“I said I’d get it.” He shifted into gear and the truck eased forward again.

“I don’t mind.”

“No, you don’t.”

Oh, no, he hadn’t! She shot him a look. “I’m not five. I don’t mind opening gates. I really don’t have to mind you.”

His brows went up. He reached for the hat he’d set on the seat next to him and pushed it back on his head. The chicken wasn’t going to comment. She glanced back at the girls and smiled. Kat was sleeping. Molly stared out the window, her eyelids drooping.

Wyatt parked next to the barn, still silent. But when she glanced his way, she saw the smile. It barely lifted the corners of his mouth, but it was there.

“This shouldn’t take long.” He opened his door and paused. “I think you and the girls can get out and look around.”

“Thanks, we’ll do that. If you think I can handle it. After all, I’m five.”

“You’re not five. You’re just…” He shook his head and got out of the truck. He didn’t say anything else. He opened the back door of the truck and motioned for the girls to get out. He set each of them on the ground and then glanced back in at her. “Getting out?”

“Yeah, I’m getting out.”

She’d been crazy to stop at his house. She was still trying to figure it out. He smiled at something Kat said. Oh, that’s right, now she remembered. It was that smile. She wanted him to smile like that at her.

“Wyatt, good to see you.”

She turned to face the man who’d spoken. He stood outside the barn and everything about him said “rancher.” From his dusty boots to his threadbare jeans, he was a cowboy. His skin was worn and suntanned, making deeper lines around his mouth and crinkles at his eyes. His hair was sun-streaked brown. He winked at her.

“Jackson, I’m surprised to see you here. I thought your brother was meeting me.” Wyatt stepped toward the other man, hand extended.

“Yeah, he’s at the bank. You know, he’s Mr. Work-aholic.”

“Got it. So what are you doing these days?”

“Oh, trying to stay away from trouble. But most of the time, trouble just seems to find me.” He smiled at Rachel. “Hi there, Trouble.”

Heat climbed her cheeks.

“Jackson Cooper, meet Rachel Waters. Her father is the pastor of the Dawson Community Church.”

If Wyatt had used that introduction to put the other man in his place, Jackson Cooper didn’t look at all embarrassed. “If our pastor’s daughter looked like you, I might just get right with God.”

Wyatt wasn’t smiling. “Okay, let’s look at the bull.”

“You gonna ride him?” Jackson laughed.

“I doubt it.”

“Chicken?” Jackson Cooper obviously didn’t know about backing down. She thought it might be a family trait; not backing down. She had heard about the Coopers. There were about a dozen of them: biological and adopted.

“Nope, just smarter than I used to be. I haven’t been on a bull in a half-dozen years and I don’t plan on starting again.”

“There’s a lot more money in it these days,” Jackson continued, his smile still in place.

“Plenty of money in raising them, too.” Wyatt turned to his daughters. “You girls stay with Rachel and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The men left them and Rachel smiled down at the girls. “I think we should make clover chains.”

One last glance over her shoulder. Wyatt picked that moment to stop and watch them, to watch his girls. Rachel turned away.

“Nice bull.” Young, but definitely worth the money the Coopers were asking. Wyatt watched the young animal walk around the corral. He was part Brahma, long and rangy with short legs. He’d been used in local rodeos last year and was already on the roster for some bigger events.

“Want me to get a bull rope and chaps?” Jackson leaned over the corral, a piece of straw in his mouth.

“No, I think we know what he’ll do. And we know where you live if he doesn’t.”

“He’ll go out of the chute to the right for about four spins and then switch back and spin left. He’s got a belly roll you won’t believe.”

“Your brother, Blake, told Ryder that he isn’t mean.” Wyatt continued to watch the bull. The animal pushed at an old tire and then stomped the dusty ground.

“He’s never hurt anyone. But he’s a bull, Wyatt. They’re unpredictable, we both know that.”

“Yeah, I know we do.” They’d lost a friend years ago. They’d been teenagers riding in junior events when Jimmy got killed at a local event.

“That was a rough one, wasn’t it?” Jackson’s sister had dated Jimmy.

“Yeah, it was rough.” He brushed away the memories. “Do I write you a check?”

“Sure. So, is she your nanny?” Jackson nodded in the direction of Rachel Waters. She was in the large yard and the girls were with her. They were picking clover and Rachel slipped a chain of flowers over Molly’s head.

Wendy should have been there, doing those things with their daughters. He let out a sigh and refocused on the bull. It took a minute to get his thoughts back on track. Jackson didn’t say anything.

“No, she isn’t.” Wyatt pulled the checkbook out of his back pocket. “I like the bull, Jackson. I don’t like your price.”

Jackson laughed. “Well, now, Wyatt, I don’t know that I care if you like my price or not.”

“He isn’t worth it and you know it.”

“So what do you think would make him worth it?” Jackson’s smile disappeared. Yeah, that was the way to wipe good-natured off a guy’s face, through his bank account.

“I’ve been thinking of adding Cooper Quarter Horses to our breeding program. I’d like one of your fillies.” His gaze swept the field and landed on a small herd of horses. One stuck out, but it wasn’t quite what he’d planned to ask for. “And that pony.”

“You want a pony. Shoot, Wyatt, I’ll throw in the pony. We’ll have to talk about the horse, though. This bull’s daddy was Bucking Bull of the Year two years in a row. He isn’t a feedlot special.”

“Okay, let’s talk.” Wyatt let his gaze slide to where the girls were still playing with Rachel. Kat was sitting on the grass, a big old collie next to her. Molly and Rachel were spinning in circles.

They needed her. The thought settled so deep inside of him that it ached. His girls needed Rachel. Maybe more than they needed him. He couldn’t make chains with clover or even manage a decent braid in their hair.

“Do you think she’d go out with me?” Jackson walked over to the gate and tugged it open. “I mean, if you’re not interested.”

“I’m not interested.” Wyatt walked through the gate, sidestepping a little snake that slid past. “I’m not interested, but I think maybe you’re not her type. Shoot, I’m probably not her type either.”

“Yeah, well, I always had this idea that when I settle down it’d be with a woman like her, the kind that goes to church on Sundays and probably makes a mean roast.” Jackson shot him a smile. “Yeah, a guy would live right with a wife like her.”

“Right.” He’d had enough of this talk. “Let’s take a look at the pony first. How old?”

“Ten. He was my niece’s. But Tash is getting older and Greg bought her a bigger horse.”

“I don’t want to take someone’s pony.”

“He’s just eating grass and getting fat.”

Wyatt stopped in front of the paint pony. It was a pretty thing, brown and white spotted with a black mane and tail. The pony lifted its head from the clover that it was munching on and gave him a look.

“He isn’t mean?”

“Never seen him be mean.”

Wyatt knew all about horse traders and lines like that. He wasn’t about to take Jackson Cooper’s word for it. He patted the fat pony and leaned against him, holding his mane to keep him close.

“Yeah, but I want a little more reassurance than that, Jackson. This is for my kids.”

Jackson walked up and lifted a leg to settle it over the pony’s back. His normal smile had disappeared and he was all serious. “Wyatt, I might be a lot of things, but I can tell you this: I wouldn’t get a kid hurt. This pony is the safest one you’ll find. I broke him myself and I wouldn’t be afraid to let my own kids on him. If I had a kid.”

Wyatt nodded and he didn’t take his eyes off the pony. Even with part of Jackson’s weight on his back, the little pony hadn’t moved, hadn’t been distracted from the clover he was tugging at. He didn’t even startle when shouts from the gate meant that he’d been spotted by the girls.

The girls were on the gate, standing midway up, waving. Rachel stood next to them, her smile as big as theirs. He wondered if she was still dreaming of having a pony someday? He’d known girls like her his whole life. Wannabe cowgirls. He used to like them. They were fun on a Friday night at a rodeo in Tulsa. They were easy to impress and soft to hold.

That had been a lifetime and another Wyatt Johnson ago. Before. His life fell into two slots. Before Wendy, and after. The first half had been full of hope and promise. The second was about getting it back.

He was just standing there, staring, when Jackson waved them into the field. They yelled and before Rachel could open the gate, they were running toward him. The little pony looked up, watching, dark ears pricked forward. Yeah, he’d do for a first pony.

Rachel caught up with the girls halfway across the field and spoke to them. He watched them settle and reach for her hands. One on each side of her.

Jackson whistled and shook his head, laughing a little. Wyatt shot him a sideways glance and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Keep it to yourself, Jackson.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Yeah, I know what you’re saying.” He wasn’t blind.

And then the girls were there, Rachel standing quietly behind them. They were all hands, reaching for the pony, saying it was the prettiest pony ever. Jackson Cooper looked as if he had created the thing himself and set it in front of them with a ribbon.

“Be careful, girls.” Rachel moved closer and her hand went out, reaching to brush through the pony’s mane.

“What do you think, girls? Would this be a good pony?” Wyatt wanted to be the hero. He’d been fighting the pony conversation for a while. They were still little, still needed to be held and couldn’t brush their teeth alone. He’d been on horses his entire life, but that was different. When it came to his girls, it was different.

Molly nodded. “This is a perfect pony named Prince.”

“Actually, his name is…” Jackson grinned. “His name is Prince.”

Rachel smiled at him. Wyatt lifted his hat and settled it back in place. “We’ll take him. And a filly.”

“Let’s talk price.” Jackson looped a bit of rope around the pony’s neck. “Can you girls lead Prince back to the barn so we can load him in the trailer?”

Molly was nodding, her hands moving in anticipation, but Jackson handed the lead rope to Rachel. Wyatt started to tell them to be careful, but he clamped his mouth shut. He hadn’t been real good at letting go lately. It wasn’t easy, letting someone else take care of Molly and Kat. It wasn’t easy watching them with someone who was not their mother.

But they needed this. They needed to let go of him once in a while.

His good intentions almost came undone when halfway to the gate Rachel stopped, picked up Molly and then Kat and placed them on the back of that pony. Kat was in front and Molly wrapped her arms around her sister. Rachel stood close to them.

“Might as well breathe and let it go, Wyatt.” Jackson laughed and slapped him on the back. “Two things are going to happen. They’re going to grow up, and that woman’s probably going to get under your skin.”

Wyatt didn’t smile. He watched as Rachel led the pony with his girls on it through the gate and then he settled his attention back on Jackson Cooper and the filly he wanted.

And he repeated to himself that Rachel Waters wasn’t going to get under his skin.

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