Читать книгу Stand-In Rancher Daddy - Renee Ryan - Страница 13

Chapter Five

In the aftermath of the twins’ emotional outburst, ripples of raw tension moved through Molly. Concern for the children continued threatening her composure. They’d been so upset, practically inconsolable. Even now, though the prospect of ice cream had cheered them considerably, the remnants of tears still glistened on their tiny black eyelashes.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Molly slipped a glance at CJ. He looked as flummoxed as she felt. Yet despite his obvious unease, he’d confronted the explosion of little-girl panic with remarkable calm. He’d called on Molly’s assistance only as a last resort.

Molly hadn’t thought she could admire CJ any more than she already did. But watching him with his nieces had charmed her beyond measure. If she wasn’t careful her admiration could easily turn into something deeper, more lasting.

She put the thought out of her mind.

CJ asked the twins what their favorite ice cream flavor was as he steered them across the open field. Vanilla was at the top of their list. Molly agreed. Not so, CJ. “I prefer chocolate.”

He said this with such conviction the girls immediately changed their minds and insisted Molly do the same.

She refused to be swayed, which earned her a wink from CJ.

There he went, charming her again. Molly focused on her surroundings instead of the way her pulse sped up.

Children of all ages and sizes ran past their subdued little group. Boys chased one another in a rowdy game of tag. Several girls played hopscotch, while others sat on blankets with dolls. Molly’s brothers tossed a ball with the Barlow boys and a few others their same age.

At the end of the grassy field, a long table had been set up in front of large, wooden tubs being hand-cranked by men of the congregation, Molly’s father included. Her sister and their mother had joined other smiling women and were now serving up ice cream in plain, nondescript cups.

CJ reached for two filled with the twins’ new favorite flavor.

“Thank you, Unca Corny,” they said in tandem as they took the cups from him. Although their faces were still red and puffy, they dug into the ice cream with enthusiasm.

CJ watched them eat. His face showed strain, yet he managed a smile for each of the twins, then another, softer one for Molly.

For the breadth of a heartbeat she held his stare.

She saw reliability when she looked into his eyes. She also saw rough honesty, conviction and the deep code of ethics that ruled him. CJ Thorn would make some woman a wonderful husband.

There was no joy in the knowledge, only an ache of longing. The sensation plowed deeper when he picked up a cup of vanilla ice cream and offered it to her. It was such a simple thing yet spoke of his attentiveness.

Unable to imagine swallowing a single bite past the walnut-sized lump lodged in her throat, she lifted her hand, palm facing him. “None for me.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Shrugging, he set the cup back on the table, then speared his splayed fingers through his hair as he gazed at her. When he pulled his hand away, several wild strands were left sticking out.

Molly desperately wanted to reach up and smooth the black locks back in place. It was oddly distracting, this need to take care of CJ. Not as she did the twins, but as a woman took care of her man.

The thought staggered her. She deliberately glanced away, and realized her mistake when she caught her mother watching her interacting with CJ and the twins.

A familiar look of concern fell across Helen Carson’s face, or was that disapproval? Dread pulled in Molly’s stomach, twisting hard when the older woman made a jerking motion with her chin, as if to say she wanted a word with Molly in private.

She had a good idea what was on her mother’s mind. Molly had made a bold statement when she’d chosen to sit with the Thorns during service, and then had stuck by their sides ever since.

Well, this wasn’t the time for a heart-to-heart between mother and daughter. Ned’s absence had been noticed and publically remarked upon by Little Horn’s most voracious gossip.

No doubt Mrs. Hickey was already discussing the situation with her cronies and anyone else who cared to listen. Talk would inevitably turn to the twins, then to CJ, and ultimately to Molly’s role in their family. Assumptions would be made, conclusions drawn.

A hard knot of frustration balled in Molly’s stomach. No wonder her mother wanted to speak with her.

As inconspicuously as possible, Molly slipped to the other side of CJ, then made the mistake of sending another glance in her mother’s direction. She was still watching her. This time, Molly definitely saw worry in the older woman’s eyes.

Feeling marginally guilty, she started toward her mother, but paused midstep when a neighboring rancher moved directly into her path. He was clearly heading her way. Or rather, he was heading toward CJ.

What little Molly knew about Edmund McKay, which admittedly wasn’t much, she liked. He was a hardworking, dedicated rancher and one of the most respected men in the community. Somewhere in his early thirties, he’d lived in the area for nearly thirteen years. Tall, several inches over six feet, he had a strong muscular frame, light brown hair and intense green eyes that held a hawk-like sharpness.

He was a bit rough around the edges, but he was one of CJ’s closest friends, which was a large point in his favor.

Drawing to a stop at a polite distance, he took off his hat and gave Molly a kind, if somewhat tentative smile. “Good day, Mrs. Langley.”

“Good day to you, Mr. McKay.”

Looking slightly uncomfortable, he jammed his hat back on his head and fumbled for words. “It’s...ah...” He trailed off, swallowed several times, then tried again. “It’s a...beautiful day, is it not?”

Molly felt her lips twitch at the innocuous comment about the weather. Clearly, conversation wasn’t the man’s strong suit.

“Why, yes, it’s a lovely day indeed.” She brightened her smile. “I trust all is well at your ranch.”

“Very well, thank you.”

He broke eye contact, placed his palms on his knees and greeted the girls.

Anna grinned around her spoon. “Hi, Mr. McKay.”

Sarah showed off her pink bow, which he took considerable time admiring. “It’s very pretty.”

“I know!” She shoved a bite of her ice cream in her mouth. “I tied it myself,” she announced, after swallowing.

“Impressive.” He patted her shoulder, then straightened and faced CJ.

The two men had barely shaken hands before they launched into a conversation about the unpredictable cattle prices this year due to inconsistent demand in the northern states.

Molly found the conversation fascinating. She nearly joined in the discussion, but the girls chose that moment to finish their ice cream. She took their empty cups.

As she set them on the table, a movement on her left had her looking over her shoulder. Her friend Lula May Barlow stood beneath the shade of a large oak tree. Her eight-year-old daughter, Pauline, was with her.

Though Molly’s friend was also a widow that was where the similarities between them ended. Lula May had five children, ages six to seventeen. She was also beautiful and kind, with strawberry blond hair, dark blue eyes and a no-nonsense, take-charge nature Molly admired.

She waved at her friend. Lula May waved back, then beckoned to her. Molly looked in the direction of her mother, discovering she was engaged in a conversation with Beatrice Rampart.

Deciding she could use a good chat with Lula May, whose daughter looked as restless and bored as the twins had become, Molly laid a hand on CJ’s arm. “If you have no objection, I thought I’d take the girls away to play with my friend’s daughter.”

He appeared to consider her request with a hint of indecision.

Giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, she hitched her chin toward where Lula May and Pauline waited. “We’ll be right over there.”

“Ah, yes.” He nodded at Lula May. “That’ll be fine.”

Molly dropped her hand. “It was lovely to see you again, Mr. McKay.”

The rancher tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

“Come on, girls.” Molly placed a smile in her voice and took hold of their hands. “Let’s go say hi to Mrs. Barlow and Pauline.”

The twins declared this the grandest of grand ideas. They adored Pauline Barlow, as did Molly. Lula May’s only daughter was a sweet girl with bright red hair, a sunny disposition and eyes the same indigo blue as her mother’s.

Seeming as eager as the twins, Pauline hurried to meet them halfway across a grassy knoll, her enthusiasm propelling her forward.

“Hello, girls!” She barely stopped to take a breath before asking, “Want to play jacks with me?”

“I do.” Anna all but vibrated with excitement. “I really, truly do.”

Sarah frowned at her sister. “You don’t even know how to play jacks.”

“Neither do you.”

“I can learn.”

Anna stuck out her bottom lip. “Well, I can, too.”

Undaunted by the girls arguing, Pauline stepped between them. “I’ll teach you both how to play. I’m really good, just ask anyone.”

Once she was given permission by Molly and her mother, Pauline led the girls to a flat spot on the other side of the tree, placed a wooden board on the ground and got down to the business of teaching the twins how to play jacks.

Not until the three were chattering happily away did Lula May take Molly’s hand and hold on tight. “How are you? And I won’t take a pat answer. I want the truth.”

Something in her friend’s eyes put Molly instantly on guard. “I’m...fine.”

Looking far from convinced, Lula May dropped her hand, but continued holding Molly’s stare. She tried not to react to the searching glance.

Her friend was known for being determined and direct. Sometimes too direct, as evidenced by her next words. “There’s talk going around about Ned and—” she leaned in close and lowered her voice to a hushed whisper “—it’s not very kind.”

Dread swam through Molly’s mind, thundered inside her ears. She shouldn’t be surprised the gossip about Ned had spread so quickly. Constance Hickey enjoyed spreading rumors, the faster the better.

Molly noted ever so gratefully that the girls were deep in to learning the new game. Nevertheless, she dropped her voice to the same low tone as her friend. “What have you heard?”

Darting a worried glance at the twins, Lula May sighed. “Talk is going around that he left town without a single word of warning. And, I’m sorry to say—” she shot another quick glance at the girls “—there’s speculation he isn’t coming back.”

Molly stared dully at her friend, dismayed at how detailed the gossip had become already. CJ and the twins had enough to worry about without having to fight off the stigma of rumors.

It was so unfair.

“I know it’s been rough for Ned since Penelope died,” Lula May said, not unkindly. “But I can’t imagine he would up and leave his daughters without a word.”

In that, at least, Molly could set the record straight. “He left a note.”

“Oh. Oh, my.” Lula May’s hand went to her throat. “Then it’s true. He’s really gone.”

In quick, halting terms, Molly gave her friend the bare bones about Ned’s departure. She stuck to the basics and didn’t mention the whiskey, or that he’d taken CJ’s prize stallion.

Proving she was a mother first and foremost, instant tears sprang into Lula May’s eyes. “Oh, those poor, dear little girls.”

Molly nodded, her gaze automatically returning to the twins. They seemed to be having fun, but she couldn’t help but notice that they were more subdued than usual. “CJ is doing his best to fill the void their father left.”

“I’m sure he is.” Lula May couldn’t keep the obvious distress out of her voice. “It must be difficult for him, though, having to step in to the role without time to prepare.”

“Ned’s only been gone three days.” Molly spoke the words in a near whisper. “There’s still hope he’ll return.”

“There’s always room for hope.”

Yes, Molly thought, there was. With God all things were possible.

The sweet sound of giggling had Molly once again watching the girls at play. Sarah tucked her tongue between her teeth, tossed the small red ball in the air and then gathered up a handful of jacks.

Molly’s smile came quickly, then faded as she thought of Penelope and all she would miss in her daughters’ lives. “Death is so final,” she whispered.

“Yes, it is.” Lula May glanced out into the distance, seemingly lost in thought, or perhaps in memories. Molly knew she had been a mail-order bride. Yet from all accounts, and despite a rather sizable age difference, her friend’s marriage to Frank Barlow had been a good one. Certainly fruitful.

Lula May had been Frank’s second wife and had taken over mothering his sons, Calvin and Samuel, loving them as if they were her own. She’d given birth to three more children, two boys and a girl. Despite the death of her husband, or perhaps because of it, Molly’s friend had created a large, happy family for herself and her children.

Family. There was that word again. A vague sense of wistfulness spread in Molly. Why, Lord? Why did You punish me with a barren womb?

Lula May took her hand again and, as if attempting to lighten the mood for them both, changed the subject to something innocuous. “Will you be attending the quilting bee this week?”

The question took Molly by surprise. “Of course I’ll be there.”

She never missed the quilting bee and not simply because they met at the Rolling Hills ranch. Molly liked sewing, as did all the women in her family. Years ago, Helen Carson had turned an empty room off the kitchen into a permanent quilting room. The women, eight of them counting her mother, met weekly, weather permitting. As they sewed, they shared family news, discussed recipes and addressed various community concerns.

“I assume the twins will be with you?”

“That would be correct.” Molly always fetched Anna and Sarah. It never occurred to her to do otherwise. She’d taken them into her heart, and her life, long before Ned had left town.

In truth, his departure changed very little in Molly’s day-to-day existence. CJ and the twins were the ones having to make adjustments, CJ even more than the girls.

Unable to stop herself, Molly searched out his tall, lean form. He and Edmund McKay had moved away from the ice cream table and were now playing a game of horseshoes. They appeared to be in a serious conversation.

Was CJ telling his friend about Ned?

Possibly.

Probably.

Molly was glad he had someone to talk to about his situation. He surely hadn’t opened up to her and that made her unspeakably sad. She wanted to be more to CJ than simply the neighbor woman who cared for his nieces while he ran the ranch. She wanted to be his friend, his companion and confidant, the woman he turned to in good times and bad.

Quite simply, she wanted what could never be.

Of course, it was early days yet. Perhaps she and CJ could be friends, at least. He simply had to learn he could trust her with more than the cooking and cleaning of his house. Perhaps he would eventually come to think of her as a friend.

What if he never did?

Molly suddenly felt very alone, though she was surrounded by nearly half the town and was conversing with a dear friend.

In the deep recesses of her mind, for what must be the hundredth time, she admitted the truth to herself. She wanted someone special in her life again. She wanted a man—a husband—who would listen to her darkest secrets without judgment and calm her fears, someone who would look past her failings as a woman and love her anyway. Want her, anyway.

Her chance for that sort of happiness had come and gone with George. She was no longer naive enough to think she had much to offer a man. Unless God intervened, or something dramatically changed, the best Molly could hope for was to spend the rest of her life caring for another woman’s children.

A humbling and deeply depressing thought.

* * *

CJ’s attempt at playing horseshoes was halfhearted at best. His mind refused to focus on the game. Residual stress from the twins’ breakdown had his skin feeling hot and prickly, as if he were coming down with a fever. Sweat trickled a wet, uncomfortable trail between his shoulder blades.

He was fully aware people were watching him, discussing him and his family. His brother. CJ wasn’t fool enough to misunderstand the hushed whispers and darting looks. Thanks to Mrs. Hickey’s nosy interference in matters that weren’t her concern, all of Little Horn, Texas, knew Ned had taken off. CJ could feel their judgment.

The pretense was officially over.

He couldn’t keep living in a state of indecision tempered with hope. He had to think in terms of next steps. He was in charge of raising his nieces in his brother’s stead. Drawing in a tight breath, he glanced up, thought about praying, but got distracted by puffs of silky white clouds in constant motion against the blue-blue sky above.

“You gonna take your turn or give up and forfeit the game to my superior skill?”

Rolling his shoulders at his friend’s jab, CJ lowered his head and threw the horseshoe toward a stake some fifty feet away. The clatter of metal hitting metal rang out.

“Nicely done.” Edmund nudged him aside and lined up his next shot.

While he took a few practice swings, CJ found himself glancing in Molly’s direction. The sun seemed to wrap its golden arms around her small, petite frame. What a picture she made in the bright midday light. CJ couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Clank.

“Your turn.”

Dragging his gaze free, CJ sent another horseshoe in the general vicinity of the previous one he’d thrown. This time, he missed the post by two full feet.

Edmund laughed, then slapped him on the back in commiseration. “You’re distracted this afternoon. Can’t say I blame you.”

CJ gave his friend a sidelong glance. He’d already told Edmund about Ned’s departure. He might as well share the rest. “I keep wondering if my brother will come home soon. But I fear that’s nothing but wishful thinking on my part.”

“You seem certain.” Edmund bounced the horseshoe from hand to hand. “Is there something about Ned’s leaving town you’re not telling me?”

CJ reached in his pocket, pulled out Ned’s note and passed it to his friend.

The other man gave the page a cursory scan. “There’s not much here.”

“Keep reading.”

He turned the paper over, blew out a harsh, angry hiss. “He gave you custody of the twins? Is that why you think he’s not coming back?”

CJ nodded, then went on to explain how he’d come to that conclusion. “Ned hated it when our father went on benders.” CJ closed his eyes, remembering those terrible days and wanting desperately to forget. “He admitted to secretly wishing that our pa would have left home when we were younger. He claimed having no father was better than having one who was a drunk.”