A Brother's Promise

by Mindy Obenhaus

  “Let’s get married. You and me.”

  Mick’s expression went from dumbfounded to completely horrified in a matter of seconds. “Woman, have you lost your mind?”

  Ignoring the direct hit to her ego, she said, “Perhaps. But if that’s what it takes to protect Sadie, then so be it.”

  Standing, he crossed to where she stood. “Christa, I appreciate what you’re doing here, but you can’t marry someone you don’t love.”

  “Oh, as if there aren’t plenty of married people who don’t love each other. And I wasn’t talking about moving in together or anything like that.”

  “No, you were thinking of a little girl who’s been tossed around by enough of life’s storms. And I admire you for that. But I would never dream of tying you down in some marriage of convenience. You’re a beautiful, spirited woman who deserves to love and be loved.”

  Christa knew Mick was just being nice, that her suggestion to get married was totally ludicrous, yet staring up into his green eyes, she found herself wondering what it might be like to be loved and wanted by a good, hardworking man like him.

  It took Mindy Obenhaus forty years to figure out what she wanted to do when she grew up. But once God called her to write, she never looked back. She’s passionate about touching readers with biblical truths in an entertaining, and sometimes adventurous, manner. Mindy lives in Texas with her husband and kids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys cooking and spending time with her grandchildren. Find out more at mindyobenhaus.com.

  Books by Mindy Obenhaus

  Love Inspired

  Bliss, Texas

  A Father’s Promise

  Rocky Mountain Heroes

  Their Ranch Reunion

  The Deputy’s Holiday Family

  Her Colorado Cowboy

  Reunited in the Rockies

  Her Rocky Mountain Hope

  The Doctor’s Family Reunion

  Rescuing the Texan’s Heart

  A Father’s Second Chance

  Falling for the Hometown Hero

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  A BROTHER’S PROMISE

  Mindy Obenhaus

  Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.

  —Psalms 37:4

  For Your glory, Lord.

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to Leonard Peters

  for putting up with my multitude of

  legal questions. You are a patient man.

  Michelle Courtney, thank you

  for your real estate insight.

  I greatly appreciate all of your help.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from A Texas Bond by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  Chapter One

  Christa Slocum had to expand her hardware store before Crane’s Building Supply infiltrated the area. And this might be the ticket.

  A cold rain fell outside as she stood near the paint counter Wednesday afternoon, contemplating the brick wall Bliss Hardware shared with the vacant building next door. Not even a gust of wintry January air someone ushered in could jar her from her thoughts.

  Bliss Hardware was a fixture in the small Texas town and under her ownership, the once sleepy little business was now bursting at the seams. But if she could take out those bricks to create an opening, the two spaces would be joined, nearly doubling her space and allowing her to add the home improvement section people had been wanting.

  Giddiness bubbled inside of her. This was the best option she’d come up with so far and it was so simple she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before.

  Eager to contact her real estate agent, she turned and nearly ran into Mick Ashford, local rancher and good ole country boy. Except he wasn’t a boy. He was a grown man, maybe a year or two older than Christa’s forty-three years, with gorgeous light green eyes and the kind of rugged good looks that had many of the town’s single women acting like fools whenever they were anywhere near the cowboy.

  As far as Christa was concerned, though, he was simply her neighbor. Well, he lived in the house nearest to hers, anyway. A cabin tucked in the woods, far beyond the old farmhouse that had once belonged to his family. Until he and his sister, who lived near Austin, sold it to her.

  At the moment, though, he stood in front of her wearing a Carhartt jacket and mud-spattered Wranglers, his chocolate-colored felt cowboy hat in one hand while the other fisted a color chip he must have snagged from the adjacent paint display. Deep lines she wasn’t used to seeing creased his brow, suggesting something had him troubled. Which might explain why he hadn’t razzed her yet.

  “What can I help you with, Mick?”

  “I need a gallon of this.” He held out the paint swatch.

  One glance and her brow shot up. “Mick Ashford, what could you possibly want with Pepto-Bismol-pink paint?”

  “It’s not for me.” His tone was more serious than she was used to. “It’s for Sadie. I’m hoping it’ll make her feel more at home.”

  Sadie? Christa wasn’t aware that Mick was dating anyone, or that he’d gotten married. Like Christa, he’d always been comfortable being single. But if he wanted to make someone feel at home, that could only mean someone else had moved in with him.

  If so, it must have been a whirlwind romance. She could only hope it wasn’t some woman he’d met online then proposed to after only a few dates. Because while Christa may not be interested in Mick, she considered him a friend and didn’t want to see him hurt by someone with less-than-honorable motives.

  “I guess you haven’t heard.” He watched her curiously.

  “No.” Which, given how small Bliss was and the fact that she owned a business many of the townsfolk frequented, was rather unusual. “I haven’t seen much of you since Christmas.” They shared a driveway, so she usually saw him in passing at least once a day. But he’d disappeared right after Christmas. Even had someone else checking on his cattle.

  “I reckon I should have let you know I was leaving, but it was pretty sudden.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a calloused hand. “And these last few weeks have been a blur.”

  Christa hoped he wasn’t planning to tell her some long tale about his love life. “The holidays can do that to us.”

  His green eyes were filled with sorrow as they met hers. “My sister and her husband were killed in a helicopter crash in Colorado right after Christmas.”

  Remorse mingled with grief to squeeze Christa’s heart. “Oh, Mick, I’m so sorry.”

  Clearing his throat, he simply nodded. She could only imagine how raw his emotions were. “Sadie is my niece. Jennifer and Kyle left her in my care.”

  And she thought he’d gotten married. Now her heart went out to the man who was obviously struggling. Mourning the loss of his sister while being thrust into the role of caretaker for a child.

  She rubbed her suddenly chilled sweatshirt-clad arms. “How old is Sadie?”

  “Five. She’ll be six in March.”

  Christa f
roze. The same age she’d been when her mother died.

  For a moment she found herself battling back her own tears. Oh, how she ached for this poor child. At least Christa had still had her father. Sadie lost both of her parents in one fell swoop.

  “She’s at school right now,” Mick added. “Started Monday. She’s in kindergarten, so I thought it best we work on getting a routine in place.”

  “Yes. Definitely. Kids need routine.” Didn’t mean things were going to be easy, though. For either Sadie or Mick.

  “I want to make her feel at home, so I thought I’d surprise her by painting her room.”

  “Of course, you want her to feel welcome.” She looked at the horrid color still in her hand, recalling the wintergreen flavor of the elixir her father had given her every time she had an upset stomach. “But I’m still not going to sell you this color of paint.”

  “Why not?” He stiffened. “You’ve seen my place. It’s nothing but brown and green. You know, like the outdoors. But Sadie’s a little girl, and little girls love pink, don’t they?”

  “Sometimes. But not necessarily this shade.” She held it up so he could get a good look. “Besides, they also like blush, periwinkle and aquamarine.”

  Shifting from one booted foot to the other, he ran a hand through his light brown hair. “Oh, boy.”

  “What is it?” She waved at one of the local contractors as he grabbed two cans of stain from a nearby shelf.

  Mick acknowledged the man with a nod before turning back to Christa. “I have no idea what any of those colors are.”

  Of course he didn’t. He was a guy. A man’s man, at that. In his world, pink was pink and that’s all there was to it.

  Moving a few steps toward the paint display, she grabbed swatches of the colors she’d mentioned and set them on the counter in front of him. “Blush, periwinkle and aquamarine.” She pointed to each one.

  “Looks like pink, purple and blue to me.”

  She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out.

  The long, tall stretch of cowboy stared down at her, looking more like a brokenhearted little boy. “I can’t bring back Sadie’s parents, but I want to do everything I can to give her the best life possible. Jen trusted me enough to leave Sadie in my care, and I want to do right by her.” The determined edge in his voice was hard to miss.

  Christa respected him for that. And while she probably didn’t know much more about kids than Mick did, she had once been a little girl and knew what it was like to lose a parent. Enough to nudge her out of her comfort zone and do whatever she could to help Mick create a space little Sadie would love.

  “Tell you what. Why don’t I drop by this evening with some paint swatches for Sadie to look at? Maybe she and I can talk so I can get a better feel for what she likes. Whether she’s into princesses or horses. Then I can help you come up with a plan for her bedroom. Wall color, bedding, pictures—”

  He gripped his hat tighter. “You’d do that for me? I mean, you and me don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

  “That’s because you’re stubborn.”

  His face turned red. “Well now, ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black. Who was it I found stuck up on a ladder last spring, trying to trim some tree branches because she was too stubborn to wait until I could get over there with my pole saw?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not stubborn.” Strong-willed, perhaps. Determined. “Do you want my help or not? I mean, it’s obvious you need it.” In more ways than one. “You’re out of your comfort zone when it comes to decorating for Sadie and, well, I am a girl.” She softened her expression. “I’m happy to help.” Besides, now that the renovations on her house were complete, she welcomed another challenge. One that would tide her over until she could get her hands on the building next door.

  Mick’s smile almost erased those lines in his forehead. “I don’t know how to thank you, Christa.”

  “Well, you could start by making sure that brown cow stops moseying into my yard and helping herself to my pansies and purple fountain grass.”

  He winced. “I don’t know why she keeps jumping your cattle guard.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? She likes my flowers.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I just need to clean out the cattle guard.” He set his hat atop his head. “What time should we expect you tonight?”

  “Store closes at five. I should be out of here by five thirty. I’ll grab a quick bite to eat and—”

  “You could eat with me and Sadie.” He shrugged. “Nothing fancy, just some pinto beans and venison sausage, but it’ll be hot. And with this cold snap we’re having...” He nodded toward the window.

  A hot meal waiting for her on a cold winter’s night. She could get into that.

  “Mind if I bring Dixie?” Since rescuing the two-year-old golden retriever a week before Christmas, Christa had been devoting all of her free time to the dog. She’d never realized how much she’d enjoy having a pet, but Dixie seemed to fill a void, keeping Christa company and giving her a reason to go home at night.

  “Are you kidding? Sadie would love having a dog to play with.”

  “In that case, we’ll be there around six.”

  Watching him retreat, Christa found herself with an admiration for the rugged cowboy that hadn’t been there before. He had a tough road ahead of him, navigating the unfamiliar territory of parenthood. Just having a little girl in his house was enough to throw someone like Mick for a loop.

  Even though Christa’s father had taken care of her since she was born, the role of sole parent had been a challenge. Ballet lessons and playdates had been her mother’s forte. Dad wasn’t used to fixing dinner every night, nor was he adept at braiding hair. But, like Mick, he bravely faced the challenge before him, determined to fill the gap her mother’s death had left behind. And as far as Christa was concerned, she was better because of it.

  If Mick raised Sadie with half the passion he approached ranching, hunting and fishing with, then Sadie would thrive. But they had a big adjustment period to get through first. And Christa was happy to help with that in any way she could. Even if it meant spending time with her stubborn neighbor.

  * * *

  Mick Ashford lifted the lid on the cast-iron pot atop the stove in the kitchen of his camp house and gave the beans another stir. He wasn’t one to go asking for help, but when Christa offered her assistance with Sadie’s room, there was no way he could refuse.

  From the moment he’d gotten the call from the authorities three weeks ago, notifying him of his sister’s death, his life had been turned upside down. He’d traveled to Colorado to get Sadie, then back to Texas to plan Jen and Kyle’s funeral in Fort Worth, all the while having to deal with Kyle’s domineering parents and their obvious disdain for both Mick and his sister.

  No wonder Kyle had been so adamant about naming Mick as Sadie’s guardian in the event anything happened to them. Of course, when Mick agreed, he never imagined it might actually happen. He could only pray that Jen would forgive him for allowing her to be buried in the Sanderson family plot. But between Chuck’s badgering, Belita’s never-ending tears and the fact that Mick was running on little to no sleep, he’d caved. At least Jen was with Kyle.

  Mick replaced the lid, his gaze drifting beyond the Formica-topped island, across the open space to the living area on the opposite side of the room and the little girl with golden-brown hair and green eyes reminiscent of his own. She looked so tiny, sitting in his overstuffed leather recliner while she watched some pony cartoon on the television. Perhaps he should consider getting Sadie her own chair. He could even let her pick it out.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. At this point, he’d do just about anything for his niece. To have her parents stolen from her at such a young age, taken away from everything familiar, then forced to live with a middle-aged cowboy... He’
d give her the moon if he could.

  A beep sounded from the stove, indicating the oven was hot. Grabbing a pot holder from the counter, he opened the oven door to retrieve the cast-iron skillet inside. He quickly added the corn-bread batter to the hot grease, then returned the pan to the oven and set the timer.

  “Uncle Mickey?”

  Yeah, he’d even endure being called Mickey. An endearment Sadie had picked up from her mama.

  Turning, he saw her little body draped over the arm of the chair. “Yes, ma’am?”

  She frowned. “I’m not a ma’am. I’m a girl.”

  How could he not chuckle? “Okay, then, yes, girl?”

  “No.” Scowling, she scooted off the chair and marched toward him, still wearing the pink cowboy boots he’d bought her, despite him telling her multiple times that boots were to be left in the mudroom, not worn in the house.

  Looking down at her, he said, “All right, princess, what is it?”

  Smiling, she held out her arms for him to pick her up and he readily obliged. Sadie sure looked like her mother. And Mick, who’d been ten years old when Jen was born, had been wrapped around his sister’s little finger from the day their parents brought her home from the hospital.

  After giving him a hug, Sadie met his gaze. “When are we going to eat?”

  “Soon. We’re just waiting for my friend.”

  Her little head tilted. “What friend?”

  “Miss Christa. She lives in that white house up by the road.”

  Sadie’s eyes widened. “The one with the big tree with the swing?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Do you think she’d let me swing on it?”

  “Probably. Once the weather gets a little warmer.” He set her feet on the worn vinyl floor he hoped to change out this spring. “Speaking of warmer, I need to stoke that fire.” He started toward the woodstove situated in the corner adjacent the couch.

  “I’ll help.” Adding wood to a fire that was inside seemed to be a novelty for Sadie. At least the weather had been cold enough to warrant the stove’s use. With Texas winters, you never knew. Eighties one day, thirties the next. Yet this winter had been different, and he was ready for it to be over. He didn’t much care for the cold.