The Cowboy's Family

by Brenda Minton

  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. Tha
t 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.

  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.