A Rancher for Christmas

by Brenda Minton

  * * *

  Jake walked back inside. He found Marty waiting for him.

  “Are the girls down for a nap?” he asked on his way to the kitchen, knowing Marty would follow.

  “Yes. They were asking again.” She shook her head, and he knew that meant the girls wanted their mommy and daddy. “They’re a little lost, of course.”

  Jake tossed his hat on the counter as he went for a glass of iced tea. “Aren’t we all?”

  “Yes, but I worry about you, Jake, about you taking on one more burden.”

  He shook his head at that. “The twins are family, not a burden.”

  “You’ve raised a family. You’ve been taking care of people your whole life.”

  Of course, he’d raised a family. His brothers and sisters had been counting on him for as long as he could remember. He’d made sure they were fed. He’d been the one to hire Marty years ago when his dad was sick and not really paying attention. He’d made sure the ranch kept making a profit.

  Now he’d make sure Rosie and Violet were loved and protected.

  Marty handed him a cup of coffee and then patted his arm the way she’d been doing for a long time, since she and her husband first came to town. Long before she was the cook and housekeeper, she’d figured out what life was like at the Circle M for a bunch of ragtag kids trying to make do with a mom that had left and a dad who had checked out.

  “Brody called,” she said as she moved back to the counter and a bag of carrots that suddenly held her interest.

  “And?” His younger brother had a knack for finding trouble.

  “He and Lincoln had a fight. He’s coming home.”

  Brody and his roommate and traveling partner were always one argument away from killing each other so Jake wasn’t surprised. He shrugged and took a drink from his cup. Marty started peeling carrots again.

  “Well, I guess he’ll figure it out. The bull-riding season is almost over. He’s probably tired of being on the road.”

  “He does get homesick, even if he doesn’t admit it.”

  He set the glass in the sink and leaned a hip against the edge of the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for Marty to tell him what he needed to do. She was good at giving him advice. And, even if he wouldn’t admit it, she was usually right.

  “Don’t lecture him,” she finally said. “I heard something in his voice.”

  “I’ll go easy on him. He’s a grown man. It’s time he made his own decisions, anyway.”

  Marty put a hand on his arm. “Is it really possible for you to do that?”

  He grinned at her fairly unsympathetic tone. “No, probably not. What’s for dinner?”

  “I’m making beef stew.”

  “Okay.” He waited, watching. He could see the furrow in her brow and knew she had more on her mind than the stew.

  “It’s okay for you to let this young woman help. I know you have reservations...”

  “Because we don’t know her at all,” he reminded.

  Marty shot him a look that he couldn’t fail to understand. He was being too “Jake” for her liking. He did like to take control. He liked to know his family was taken care of and safe. Old habits were hard to let go of.

  “You’ve raised your siblings. Now you’re looking at raising two little girls. And I’m sorry, but they need more than you, Jake. I think Lawton was right. These girls need Breezy. I might not know her well, but I think I’m a good judge of character and she seems like someone you can trust.”

  “It’s possible she won’t stay.”

  Marty stopped dicing up an onion. “Because of her childhood? All I see is a young woman that was a victim of her situation.”

  He grinned and kissed the top of Marty’s head. “I love you, Marty.”

  She sniffled and wiped at tears trickling down her cheeks. “Silly onions.”

  “Onions never make you cry.”

  “Oh, hush. Go to town.”

  As Marty cried, he placed a hand on her shoulder. She covered that hand with her own.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Of course you are.”

  She was always okay. He’d known Marty most of his life. She and her husband had moved to Martin’s Crossing to pastor the Community Church at the edge of town. That had been close to twenty-five years ago. After Earl passed away, Marty had stayed on. She’d been the cook and housekeeper for the Martins. Then she’d gone to work for Lawton and Elizabeth after the girls were born.

  “I need potatoes,” Marty said on a sigh.

  “I’ll get a bag in town.”

  “I should have planned better.”

  He shrugged it off. “I’m sure there are other things we need. I’ve got a calf to check on, then I’ll come back in for a list.”

  As he reached for his hat, she stopped him. “Give her a chance. I don’t think she’s had a lot of them.”

  “That’s the Marty I know and love. You always see the good in people.”

  “This is the Marty who knows that God doesn’t need us to judge for Him. That doesn’t mean she gets a free pass. Our baby girls come first.”

  He laughed at that. “And there’s the Marty who protects her little ones.”

  Her smile returned, settling in her gray eyes. “You’d better believe it.”

  Jake believed it.

  And he’d do his best to give Breezy a chance. But flat-out trust? That was something he’d have to work on. He’d learned—in life and in business—to reserve the right to form opinions at a later date.

  Time would tell, he told himself as he headed out to the barn. She’d stay or she’d go. While she was in Martin’s Crossing he’d do his best to treat her like family, because that’s what Lawton would have wanted.

  Chapter Three

  Breezy was standing on the porch when Jake pulled up to Lawton’s house the next day. She could see two little girls in the backseat of the truck. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. This was it. Her new life.

  She’d spent the rest of yesterday and this morning wondering how she would do this. How would she stay in Martin’s Crossing? How would she know how to take care of two little girls? After cleaning a layer of dust off the furniture the previous evening, she’d sat down and tried to list the pros and cons of staying in Martin’s Crossing.

  And she’d gotten stuck on Jake Martin, on the wariness in his eyes, on the way he’d questioned her, on the way his hand had touched her arm. Jake Martin had trust issues. Breezy had her own issues. She didn’t know how to settle, how to put down roots.

  Sticking around now took on a lot of importance, for herself and for two little girls. She watched Jake unbuckle the girls from their car seats. Staying meant everything. She headed his way to help.

  If he would let her.

  It shouldn’t bother her. She’d grown up used to people giving her suspicious looks. She’d spent her life adjusting to new people, new situations. She knew how to reinvent herself. She could be the person two little girls needed her to be. Once she figured out who that person was.

  She stepped close to the car, watching as he unbuckled one of the twins. Then he placed that little person in her arms. Dark hair straight, face thinner than the other little girl. “Hello, Violet.”

  The little girl just stared, her eyes big and unsure. Yes, Breezy was getting used to that look. It mirrored the expression on Uncle Jake’s face. The man in question pushed the truck door closed. He held Rose in one arm against his side and the little girl patted his cheek with her tiny hand. Breezy watched the change that took place when he was in the presence of these little girls.

  The twins made him human. They softened the distrust in his blue eyes.

  “Are you ready for us?” he asked with a grin that surprised her.

/>   Breezy nodded. “I’m ready.”

  She walked in front of him, Violet in her arms. The little girl smelled like baby soap and fabric softener. Her arms had gone around Breezy’s neck. They reached the front door and Jake reached around her to push it open, a small touch of chivalry she hadn’t expected.

  As they stepped inside, Violet struggled to be free. Breezy let the little girl down and Violet toddled as quickly as her little legs could carry her. In the center of the living room, she looked around, unsure. And then she cried.

  “Momma!” Violet wailed, walking through the room. “Momma!”

  Jake went after her, scooping her up with his free arm. “It’s okay, baby girl.”

  By then both twins were crying and clinging to Jake.

  “I’m sorry.” Breezy stood helpless and unsure of how to help. Should she reach for the twins? Maybe she didn’t have the mom gene. How could she, really? She’d never truly had a mother of her own.

  Jake noticed and his expression softened although the concern remained in his eyes.

  “It isn’t your fault. It’s just too soon to bring them here.”

  Breezy looked around, trying to come up with something. “They have toys here. Let’s pull out the toys and let them settle down. I’m not sure that avoiding this house is what they need. They lived here. It’s familiar to them.”

  “I think I know where they lived.”

  “I think you should give me a chance.” She reached over and this time Rosie held her arms out and fell into Breezy’s embrace. The toddler’s arms around her neck took her by surprise.

  “I’m working on it,” he said in a raspy voice.

  Of course he was. She sat down on the edge of the sofa and Rose slid off her lap and headed for the guitar Breezy had left leaning against the wall. The little girl moved quickly. Breezy moved faster, getting the instrument before the child could grab it. But she held it, letting Rose pluck the strings. With a few strands of hair on top of her head in a pink bow, Rose smiled and jabbered.

  “Do you want a song?” Breezy asked, settling on the sofa again. Rose rested against her knees.

  Jake had moved to the nearby chair, still holding Violet. As Breezy started to play, the child slid down from his lap and joined Rose. Breezy swallowed past the lump of emotion that lodged in her throat. She managed not to cry. Instead she sang a Christmas song because it sounded like one a child would be soothed by.

  As she sang, Rose clapped a few times and sounded as if she might be singing along. But it was hard to tell in the language of a two-year-old. She finished and set the guitar back on the floor. Violet had wandered back to Jake and was leaning against him, her thumb in her mouth, twirling dark curls around her finger.

  He cleared his throat, and the little girl looked up at him. He scooped her into his arms. “We should feed them.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  If the music had soothed the girls, it seemed to have had the opposite effect on Jake. He headed off to the kitchen like a lion with a thorn in his paw. She remembered the folk tale, and knew, with certainty, that she wasn’t the mouse who would offer to remove the thorn. She wouldn’t want to get that close to the lion.

  “I made soup and grilled cheese.” She walked to the stove, ignoring the man who had taken the girls to the dining room. “I have the sandwiches ready to grill and the soup is warm.”

  She wasn’t about to admit that she’d pondered for a very long time over what to feed the girls. She had no idea if they could eat a sandwich or if they were still eating baby food.

  “They’ll eat that.” He settled Violet in her high chair and then reached for Rosie.

  Breezy watched from the doorway but then turned to the kitchen and the job of finishing lunch. She turned the griddle on and pulled the already buttered bread out of the fridge, along with the cheese slices she would put in the middle. When she had them on the electric griddle, she found Jake Martin in the doorway watching her.

  “You play well,” he said in an easy tone.

  “Thank you,” she said, turning back to the griddle. “What would you like to drink?”

  “I can get our drinks. The girls are buckled in and I can see them from here,” he offered as he took glasses from the cabinet.

  She nodded, as if she wasn’t making a mental list of parenting dos and don’ts. One: always make sure they are buckled and within line of sight. Yes, those things seemed like common sense, but what if she forgot something? What if there was a rule that most people knew but she didn’t? She’d learned a lot of those rules when she’d moved in with Mia, but Mia’s stepson, Caleb, was almost seven now. He didn’t require safety seats or high chairs anymore.

  “Are you talking to yourself?” He opened the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of tea she’d made that morning. Tea should never be instant. Mia had taught her that rule. There were other rules, too. Going to church on Sunday was another one.

  Had she been talking to herself? She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head, hoping that was the right answer. “No, of course not. I was telling you there are sippy cups here and milk in the fridge.”

  “Of course. Because the word milk sounds like rules.”

  “It could,” she hedged. She flipped the sandwiches off the griddle onto a plate.

  He laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She started to feel a little bubble of laughter coming to the surface. She didn’t want to laugh, not with him. Laughing with Jake would make them feel like friends and he clearly was not a friend.

  “There aren’t rules, Breezy.”

  “Aren’t there?”

  She ladled the soup into bowls, adding just a tiny amount for the twins. How much soup would they eat?

  “A little more than that,” Jake responded to her unasked question. “And I guess there are some rules.”

  Great, she loved rules. She might as well ask now and get it over with before she broke them all and found herself dismissed from the lives of her nieces. He’d made it clear he had the power to do that.

  “Okay, tell me the rules.”

  Jake cut up the sandwiches and placed them in front of the girls. She’d forgotten to do that. Next time, sandwiches in four triangles. That was simple enough. She set the soup on the table. Jake moved it back.

  “What?”

  “Soup out of reach or it’ll be on the floor before we can turn around.”

  “Rule one, no soup.”

  He laughed, the sound a little rusty but nice. He should laugh more often.

  “I didn’t say no soup,” he clarified. “I said out of reach.”

  She handed him a glass of tea and he took the seat next to Violet. Breezy took that as her cue and moved to the seat next to Rose. The little girl had already reached for a triangle of sandwich and was nibbling crust.

  “Next rule?” Breezy asked as she reached for her sandwich.

  Jake held out his hand. “We pray before we eat.”

  Of course. She let out a sigh and took the hand he offered. She ignored the fact that with one hand in his and one hand holding Rose’s, she felt connected.

  And a little bit trapped. No, she couldn’t ignore that.

  * * *

  Jake took a bite of sandwich and nearly choked. “What in the world is that?”

  Next to him Violet gagged. Rose continued to nibble as if it was the best thing she’d ever eaten.

  “It’s grilled cheese.”

  “That is not cheese,” he pointed out.

  “No, it’s not,” she admitted. “It’s cheese substitute.”

  Jake put the sandwich down on his plate and took a long drink of tea, hoping it was real tea. It was. After he washed the taste of fake cheese out of his mouth he pinned the woman across from him with a look. “Rule three, no
fake cheese. That’s not even real food.”

  She laughed a little and smiled at Rose, who was happily chowing down. Rose grinned up at Breezy. Drool and cheese slid down her chin.

  “Rose likes it,” she informed him.

  “Rose doesn’t know better.” He pushed back from the table and headed for the kitchen. “I think we’ll have more soup and crackers, if you haven’t found a substitute for those.”

  When he returned to the dining room, she looked less than sure of herself. “I thought it would be healthier for them.”

  “They’re two, they need to eat dairy.” He ladled more soup in the bowls and tossed a sleeve of crackers in front of Breezy. She had taken a bite of sandwich and made a face.

  “It is pretty gross.”

  “So you’re not really a vegetarian?”

  She shook her head. “No, I just thought it sounded like the right thing for children.”

  He laughed and then she laughed. Maybe this is how they would get through this mess, with laughter. Maybe they would work out a friendship and he would learn to trust her. But he wasn’t ready for that. Not right now. He sat back down and pushed the sandwich away. “I think maybe next time we’ll stick to real cheese.”

  “Right,” she said. “And maybe we should go over the rest of the rules.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on Violet’s dark hair as she sipped soup from her spoon. “It isn’t as if I’ve made a list of rules, Breezy. I’m not trying to make this difficult. I just have to be the person who keeps them safe.”

  “You think you’re on your own with this?”

  He didn’t answer the question because he didn’t want to explain that having Sylvia Martin for a mother meant he’d been taking care of children since he’d been old enough to reach the stove.

  He didn’t know how to let go. And in his experience, women had a tendency not to stick around. At least not the ones in his life.

  “I’m not on my own,” he finally answered. “But I’m the head of this family and I will always make sure these little girls are taken care of.”