Stand-In Rancher Daddy Read online

  She whispered the question in such a low tone she wondered if CJ heard her.

  “It occurred to me.” He shifted in his saddle. “Sadly, the more I contemplate the situation the more I fear it’s a real possibility.”

  Molly’s heart tightened and began to throb. CJ’s tormented expression had her wanting to soothe away his worries with a few kind words. But he’d erected that wall between them once again and she couldn’t think of a subtle way to shove past the invisible barrier.

  “I hope our suspicions are proved wrong,” she said with all sincerity.

  “As do I.”

  They rode to her parents’ ranch in silence, each lost in their own troubling thoughts.

  Just as they crossed onto Carson land, Molly slid a glance at CJ from beneath her lowered lashes. Although he always looked good atop a horse, any horse, there was something not quite right seeing him riding the bay-colored gelding instead of the tall black stallion. Thunder and CJ were a magnificent pair that should never have been separated.

  If Ned was bold enough to steal his own brother’s horse, it stood to reason that cattle rustling was but one step away.

  Oh, Lord, let me be wrong.

  Because if it was true, if Ned had become a cattle rustler, Molly feared CJ would take the blame for his brother’s behavior.

  He had enough to worry about without carrying that additional burden.

  * * *

  Now that he’d shared his worry concerning Ned’s involvement with the stolen cattle, CJ’s first instinct was to defend his brother. Or at least make excuses for Ned’s poor decisions.

  After all, he could be innocent of the crime. There was no proof that Ned was still in the area, and there was certainly nothing concrete pointing to him as the thief.

  Thief. The word reverberated wasplike in CJ’s mind, buzzing and stinging with accusation.

  He glanced over at Molly. Her fingers curled around the wagon reins with a white-knuckled grip. She was clearly upset about the missing cattle.

  There was also outrage in her eyes. CJ realized, with an alarming jolt of insight, just how well he could read Molly’s moods. One glance and he could tell whether she was sad or happy, amused or worried. He could also tell whether she was being completely open with him or hiding some secret hurt.

  He’d felt a connection with her ever since their first meeting. Their bond had grown stronger since Ned’s departure. Despite her turning down his proposal, CJ knew she was the best woman to mother the twins. He knew it all the way to his marrow.

  She claimed she would never marry again. But there was something in her eyes that warned CJ there was more to the story than devotion to her dead husband.

  Somehow he sensed if he walked away from her now, he would be letting her down. He didn’t know how or why, or even if he had the right of it. But there it was, growing inside him, driving him to continue pursuing the issue of marriage despite her initial refusal.

  I like you, CJ. Rather a lot.

  Words to live by, at least a little while longer.

  “Molly, hold up a minute.” He gave his horse a gentle kick in the ribs, enough to get the animal moving. “Let me help you down.”

  She’d already pulled the wagon to a stop outside the large barn and was in the process of setting the brake.

  CJ dismounted and strode toward her. She placed her hands atop his shoulders. His own palms secured at her waist, his eyes never leaving hers, he lifted her from the wagon and set her gently on the ground.

  Unwilling to release her just yet, he kept his hands pressed lightly to her sides.

  She remained equally motionless.

  They stood there, staring at each other in the soft, moody light of dusk. The world seemed to pause, take a breath and wait.

  There was so much CJ wanted, needed, to say to this woman, but his breath stalled in his chest and words eluded him. It was as if he’d been waiting for this moment all his life.

  A breeze rustled through the trees overhead, whispering secrets to the fast approaching night.

  Slowly, Molly blinked her dreamy blue eyes, giving CJ the courage to pull her a step closer.

  “Molly.”

  He wasn’t sure what he meant to say or do next, only that he wanted her near. He could smell the scent of her, lilacs and freshly milled soap and crisp night air.

  A wisp of a sigh glided past her lips. “Thank you, CJ. I appreciate you telling me about the missing cattle.”

  Her words came out husky, slicing through the fabric of his restlessness and reminding him why he’d asked her to marry him in the first place. She brought peace to his chaotic world, and comfort, and things he wasn’t sure how to articulate.

  “You needed to know.” He tugged her a hair closer. “As you pointed out, you spend a lot of solitary time with the twins.”

  An echo of a smile trembled across her lips. “You’re worried about the girls.”

  “And you, Molly. I worry about you, as well.”

  Framed by long, thick lashes, her eyes turned a warm cornflower blue, a beacon in the gray light of dusk.

  CJ never tired of gazing at Molly. Tonight she looked so sweet, so innocent. So kissable. He breathed in a sliver of hot summer air and pulled her the rest of the way into his arms.

  She said nothing, simply stared up at him. Several strands of hair had escaped her braid. He reached up and tucked them behind her ear.

  The warm June air wafted between them and still she remained silent, blinking up at him as though attempting to decipher a difficult puzzle. “You’re a good man, CJ Thorn.”

  He gave a small, humorless laugh. “That’s debatable.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  CJ had no illusions about who he was. He’d been raised by a hard man. He didn’t know how to treat a woman like Molly. She deserved romance, flowers and whatever sort of female things women enjoyed during a proper courtship. His lack of knowledge was a perfect example of what Lillian had meant when she’d said no decent woman would have him.

  CJ needed a decent woman to see past his sullied last name and rough upbringing. Not for himself, but for the twins.

  Molly didn’t hold his legacy against him. She saw him with the goodness of her heart instead of the reality of his name.

  Smiling down at her, he raised her hand tenderly to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, before cradling it against his chest. She released a shuddering sigh.

  His heart beat a rapid tattoo against his ribs. Resolve took hold and he lowered his head toward hers. Closer, closer, until their lips met with a whisper of a touch.

  Seconds later, he lifted his head and stepped back.

  The woman staring up at him looked a little shocked, and certainly confused. She did not look outraged. After the day he’d had, CJ decided to take that as a very good sign.

  Chapter Eleven

  CJ crossed onto Triple-T land with an odd sensation in his heart, part confusion, part conviction. He drew in a breath, smelled the familiar scents of Texas dirt, saddle leather and horse. A fat moon, white as bone, illuminated the darkened sky and splashed its pale glow over the rough terrain.

  Feeling less overwhelmed than he had in weeks, CJ actually allowed himself a small, tentative smile. He had no idea what the future held for him and the twins, or even if he would have the honor of raising them to adulthood. There were too many extenuating circumstances dependent on what his brother did next.

  Renewed fury spiked, abrupt and almost violent.

  At least the twins had Molly. For now. He had no idea if he could convince her to become a permanent part of their lives. Her reaction to his spontaneous kiss gave him hope.

  Dismounting, he took care of bedding down Scout with quick, sure hands. Though he doubted he had an endless supply of d
ays to change Molly’s mind about marriage, she wasn’t going anywhere.

  CJ wasn’t going anywhere. Time was on his side.

  Whistling filled his ears, a lighthearted tune he hadn’t heard since his youth. It took him several seconds to realize the happy sound was coming from him. Warmth poured through his remaining doubts. One brief kiss, nothing more than a momentary meeting of lips, and CJ’s whole world had become less gloomy.

  Was this Molly’s doing? Was it a preview of what marriage to her could be like?

  CJ wouldn’t know. He had no real memory of his parents’ life together before his mother had taken ill. He’d been a boy when she’d first gotten sick, and though she hadn’t died until years later, he couldn’t remember his parents ever having a close relationship. His childhood home had been safe. His and Ned’s basic needs had been met, but there hadn’t been much love. And certainly no joy.

  That left CJ with no model for marriage, other than what he could glean from observing other couples. Ned and Penelope had seemed happy, but CJ had given them a wide berth and a lot privacy to find their way. He didn’t know much of what had really occurred in their marriage, leaving another hole in his knowledge. When CJ did finally marry, he would have to trust his instincts and rely on the Lord’s guidance.

  But first he had to convince a certain stubborn woman to marry him. No small feat. She’d already turned him down once. To step back into the fray could prove devastating. But Molly had tugged at him from their first meeting. There was something between them that wouldn’t let go.

  Anticipation stirred inside him, outdistancing all other emotion. Everything was going to work out. Ned was gone, but his daughters would still have a good life. They would never be alone. They had CJ. Soon, God willing, they would have a mother, as well.

  Hope for the future filled him to near bursting, until he stepped onto the porch stairs and heard little-girl sobs and pitiful whimpers.

  Had one of the twins been hurt?

  Heart in his throat, CJ raced into the house and came to a dead stop. Stunned speechless, he could only blink in shocked silence. The main living area was as tidy as the average pigsty.

  The twins’ toy box had exploded, sending dolls, stuffed animals and who knew what else to the farthest corners of the room. Blankets were strewn everywhere. One even hung from the ceiling, all but defying the laws of gravity.

  And there, in the middle of the mess, stood Cookie. Wringing his hands and looking as if he was under attack by an entire regiment of enemy soldiers, when he was really facing down two small four-year-olds. Granted, they were very upset, very red-faced four-year-olds, who seemed to be crying, whimpering and quarreling all at once.

  CJ could actually feel the poor man’s torment. He felt oddly validated that the seasoned army cook was finding no more success at playing nursemaid than CJ.

  Tunneling his fingers through his hair, he sorted through the mess and blubbering with the speed of a hawk swooping on its prey. No blood—always a good sign. No broken bones—more good news.

  That left a bona fide mystery as to what had upset the girls to such a level.

  “I want my Unca Corny,” Anna whimpered, looking pitiful and exhausted and as pale as the moon on a clear night.

  “Like I told you before,” Cookie groused, “he’s coming back soon.”

  Sarah marched up to the man, slapped her hands on her hips and stomped her foot. “My sister doesn’t feel good.” She stomped her foot again. “And you don’t care.”

  “Oh, I care.”

  Their stares locked, collided. “Her tummy hurts.”

  “You said her head hurt not one minute ago.” Pulling a face, Cookie peered at the whimpering child. “Which is it, her stomach or head?”

  “Both.” Anna’s shoulders slumped. “My eyes feel sticky, too.”

  Cookie stabbed a hand through his bristly hair. “That’s because you’ve been crying for going on near twenty minutes.”

  “I want Unca Corny.”

  “Me, too,” Sarah echoed, dry-eyed and clearly furious on her sister’s behalf. “He promised he’d never go away. But he did. And now he’s never coming back.”

  “I told you he didn’t leave you.” Cookie’s voice held a great deal of panic. “You gotta believe me.”

  CJ had heard enough.

  “Here I am.” Not knowing what else to do, he scooped up Anna.

  Big mistake.

  She twisted frantically against the cage of his arms, which only managed to get her all worked up again.

  “Hush now, sweet pea. Shh, calm down. I’m right here.”

  “I feel sick.” Her face went dead white, then turned a sickening shade of green. No kidding, it actually turned green!

  CJ recognized the curling in his gut as dread. He knew what was coming next, but he moved a second too late.

  The little girl threw up all over them both.

  This was disconcerting for a couple reasons: one, Cookie hightailed it out of the house as fast as his stubby legs could take him, abandoning CJ; and two, no one had warned him that a child as tiny and cute as Anna Thorn could hold that much in her stomach.

  For several beats, he simply stared at his niece in a frozen state of shock. All CJ could think was poor kid. She looked as miserable as he’d ever seen her.

  “I’m sorry, Unca Corny.” She did that choking thing she did whenever she was trying to keep from crying. “I didn’t mean to get sick on you.”

  “These things happen.”

  Her bottom lip trembled and then she gave up the battle and started crying again. “You hate me.”

  “No, I don’t.” Not even close. He loved her with a fierceness he hadn’t known himself capable of feeling.

  She tried to wiggle free. He tightened his hold on her.

  “You hate me and you want to leave me,” she moaned. “Just like Pa.”

  The kid was breaking his heart.

  “Ah, Anna, my sweet girl.” He avoided bringing up her father and focused on the other, more immediate problem. “We all get sick sometimes.”

  “Even you?”

  “Even me. What do you say I get us both cleaned up?”

  “You...” she did that shaky inhalation thing again “...you’re not mad at me?”

  “Not even a little bit.” He actually felt terrible for the girl. She looked pale and not quite herself, and a jolt of terror slammed through him. What if Anna’s illness was serious?

  Didn’t some children die when they got sick?

  Heat crawled under his skin, turning to ice in the pit of his stomach. What if he missed some important sign that would save her life?

  The ice in his gut moved to his throat. Why had he thought he could do this? He wasn’t cut out to be a father.

  Past overlaid the present and he was transported back to the day Penelope took ill. She’d never recovered. Would her daughter die under his care?

  One day at a time, he reminded himself. One problem at a time. One task at a time. It was the only way he would survive this latest nightmare. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Sarah came up beside him and pulled on his sleeve.

  “You can use this to clean up the mess my sister made.” Eyes glittering, she offered him her favorite blanket, the one she slept with every night.

  CJ’s heart took an extra hard tumble. Sarah had to be one of the two sweetest little girls he’d ever met. The other was, of course, her twin sister. Who had just been violently ill and was still looking far too pale for CJ’s peace of mind.

  One problem at a time.

  Careful not to jostle the sick child in his arms, he moved Anna to his hip and smiled down at Sarah. “That’s a nice offer, buttercup. Hold on to that a bit longer. We may need it for later. Right now, I’m going to take Anna outside and
clean her up with soap and water.”

  “Oh, but...” Sarah’s bottom lip jutted out and she looked to be on the verge of crying. “I want to help make my sister feel better.”

  Appreciating Sarah’s intentions, and not wanting to suffer through another round of tears, he gave her head a gentle pat. “How about you go rustle up another nightgown for her to wear?”

  The child’s face instantly lit up. “I can do that.”

  As she raced for the bedroom, CJ headed out the front door.

  He might not be angry, but the foul smell was starting to get to him. Eyes watering, he picked up his pace and made a beeline for the pump. Halfway there, Cookie met him with a bucket of water, a bar of soap and a handful of rags.

  CJ gave the other man a cold-eyed stare. “I thought you deserted me.”

  The heavyset man ducked his head sheepishly. “Crossed my mind.”

  “You’re here now, that’s what counts.”

  Ten minutes later, CJ and Cookie had Anna cleaned up and dressed in a fresh nightgown. Color had returned to her cheeks and her crying had become an occasional sniffle. Relief threatened to buckle CJ’s knees.

  Against every instinct, he left Cookie in charge of the twins while he went back outside to take care of his own soiled clothing. A tick twitched in his jaw as he considered all the things that could go wrong in his absence.

  Not much else he could do. He needed to get cleaned up before he could assess just how ill Anna really was. Lord, please, let it be nothing serious.

  With another bout of panic nipping at him like little rat teeth, he made quick work of washing up and changing his clothes. He returned to the house, carrying a bucket of clean well water.

  Cookie was alone in the main living area, righting the mess with the speed of a cyclone. Clearly, he couldn’t wait to get gone. He’d already put away the toys and was now folding blankets with focused precision.

  CJ took the bucket to the kitchen and ladled water into a small tin cup. “Where are the girls?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Head down, Cookie paid an unnatural amount of attention to the blanket he was folding. “In their bedroom.”