Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets

by Jill Kemerer

  And as for working here and helping with the babies...shouldn’t Raleigh be thanking him instead of accusing him of flirting with Ainsley?

  Marshall carried the saddle outside, his breath visible before him.

  Maybe he’d made a big mistake quitting his job and moving here.

  Well, so what if he had?

  He didn’t exactly have any alternatives.

  * * *

  It had been a terrific day! Ainsley wanted to spin in circles with her hands in the air and shout for joy. Instead she settled for knocking on Marshall’s door that evening. When he opened it, she had to bite her lip to keep from swooning. He’d clearly just showered since his hair glistened with dampness. He wore a dark blue Henley pushed to his forearms, jeans and bare feet. She took a mental snapshot of the image to replay in her head later.

  “Guess what?” She tore off her coat and slung it on a hook.

  “What?”

  “You know how your sister was holding Lila when you stopped by earlier? She helped me take care of the babies all day, and she didn’t go to her room once!”

  His mouth dropped open, and he blinked. “You’re being serious?”

  “I wouldn’t kid about something this important.”

  He took her by the waist and pulled her into a quick hug. She almost gasped at his touch. Then he stepped back, his hand in his hair. “I can’t believe it. That’s great news.”

  “I know.” She clapped her hands. “I offered to babysit tomorrow so she and Raleigh can get off the ranch for a while. I think they need to reconnect. Who knows, maybe a little shopping and a meal out will give them the boost they need.”

  “You offered to babysit so they can go on a date?” He sounded incredulous.

  She nodded happily. “Mmm-hmm, and I told her not to hurry back. Your sister is actually really nice when she’s not hiding in her room or insulting me.”

  Marshall was staring at her oddly. She ran her tongue over her teeth. Did she have lettuce stuck in her gums or something?

  “Come on. We’re getting out of here.” He held up a finger. “First, let me get my socks.” He raced to the bedroom and before she could figure out what he was doing, he was back.

  “Getting out of here?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “You. Me. Sweet Dreams. We’re going out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is cause for celebration.”

  “O-kay.” She scrunched her nose, looking down at her old lavender sweater. “I need to change first. I look terrible.”

  “No, you don’t, you look incredible.” He shoved his feet into shoes and unhooked both their coats.

  “Wait, I at least need my purse.” Had she been caught in a tornado? Everything was happening so fast.

  She kind of liked it.

  “Grab your purse. I’ll start the truck. If you’re not out there in fifteen seconds, I’m coming in after you.” He gently pushed her out the door.

  She laughed, enjoying the thought. “I’ll meet you out here in a minute.”

  “Fifteen seconds.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

  “Promise?”

  She waved him off. Inside her cabin, she changed her sweater, ran a brush through her long hair and swiped on pink lip gloss before snatching her purse and locking the door behind her. She hopped into Marshall’s truck. “What now?”

  “Barbecue.”

  “Ooh, I like the sound of that.”

  “Me, too.”

  They drove in easy silence. Ainsley relaxed into the seat and let her thoughts scatter. She closed her eyes. Just for a moment...

  “Ainsley?” A hand shook her arm. “Wake up. We’re here.”

  She shivered, staring into Marshall’s eyes. His tender expression jolted her awake.

  “It’s time to eat,” he said.

  She reached for her purse and got out of the truck. Marshall escorted her into the log building with a large hunter green sign spelling Roscoe’s BBQ.

  “It’s your fault, you know.” She gave him a sly glance as they stood inside the entrance.

  “What is?” He told the hostess they needed a table for two. The teen gestured for them to follow her.

  “Me falling asleep.”

  “Oh, yeah? You can’t stop thinking about me or something?” His eyes teased her.

  He had no idea how close he was to the truth, but she didn’t want him knowing that.

  “You wish.” She playfully slapped his arm. “No, I noticed you’ve been heading over to the main house very early every morning.”

  He slid into the booth, deep grooves setting in his forehead.

  “Yeah, well, not anymore,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” She sat across from him. Country music played over the speakers, and laughter erupted from nearby tables. The tangy scent of barbecue sauce made her stomach growl. “I hope you don’t think I’m lecturing you. If you want to go over there and help, I’m not going to stop you.”

  “No, that’s not it. Raleigh and I had a...disagreement earlier.”

  The way he paused at the word disagreement raised her suspicions.

  “A disagreement, huh?” She leaned forward, giving him her full attention.

  “He acts like he did me this big favor by letting me work on the ranch. I don’t even want to work there. I could care less about cows and calves and riding out in the freezing cold constantly. If I had my way, I’d be back at Beatty Brothers Repair, taking apart big machines every day.”

  She’d never seen him so riled up. She knew ranching wasn’t his ideal job, but she hadn’t realized how much he disliked it.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pour all that on you.” He rubbed his chin. “I guess his words hit me the wrong way.”

  “I get it.” She propped her elbow on the table and rested her cheek on her hand. “You don’t feel appreciated. And instead of him thanking you, he got defensive.”

  He nodded. “I don’t even blame him, not really. He’s the one getting up in the middle of the night with the babies, not Belle, the way I’d assumed. And I could be wrong, but I feel like dealing with the babies is way over his head, which brings out his prickly side.”

  The waitress stopped by and took their orders. Marshall’s earlier good mood had changed to pensiveness, and Ainsley wanted to bring back his happy side.

  “Tell me about your old job.” She steered the conversation away from the ranch. She was going to enjoy this night. It was Friday, and they were at a hopping restaurant, and...she liked him. A lot.

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Sure there is. When did you learn how to repair big machinery? Tractors, right?”

  “Yes, among other things.” His eyes brightened. “One of the bonuses of living in the group foster home was that I found a part-time job after school as soon as I turned sixteen. I worked for an auto mechanic here in town. Jim Clark showed me basic auto repairs and maintenance, and I took to it naturally.”

  “I can tell you loved it.” She couldn’t take her gaze off his animated face.

  “I did. Jim saw something in me and let me assist him more and more until I was doing repairs on my own. His brother had a ranch nearby, and his combine had broken down. I begged to go over there and have a look at it. I called the manufacturer, got the manual, talked to local ranchers known for fixing their own equipment, and I was hooked.”

  The waitress dropped off their drinks. After they thanked her, Ainsley unwrapped her straw. “So how did you end up in Cheyenne? Why didn’t Belle move here when you guys turned eighteen?”

  “Jim was retiring, and Belle already lived in the area. I didn’t mind. I couldn’t find a job in a repair shop right away, so I did some time at McDonald’s. But I put applications in at every auto maintenance and repai
r shop, and within a few months, William Beatty hired me.”

  “Did you work there for long?”

  “Ten years.”

  Ainsley took a long drink as she pondered what he’d said. Ten years at a job he loved. And he’d given it all up to move to Sweet Dreams. To work on a ranch so he could help his sister.

  He was too good to be true.

  Really, he was.

  He tapped his knuckles on the table. “Maybe it’s for the best Raleigh and I had it out.”

  “Why?”

  “I told him to talk to Belle about seeing a doctor.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “A lot better than I did. I still think he should push his schedule back an hour so he can feed the babies at five, though.”

  And just like that he was no longer too good to be true.

  The words dropped to her stomach like a stone in a stream. Marshall had admitted Raleigh was already feeding the babies in the night. Belle could take the early-morning shift. Why did Marshall keep pampering his sister?

  She gripped the glass. “Why don’t you want Belle to do it?”

  “If she’s helping you during the day, she’s going to be tired at night.”

  “Yes...but if she’s not getting up with them, surely, she’s getting enough sleep. And today was the first day she’s helped me at all.”

  Marshall massaged the back of his neck. “So?”

  “She’s not made of crystal, Marshall. She won’t shatter.”

  “You don’t get it.”

  “I do get it. I think you’re the one in denial.”

  He glowered. “Let’s drop it.”

  “Fine with me.” She looked around, and the festive atmosphere no longer felt joyful. She’d heard things like “you don’t get it” and “drop it” many times over the years. Always when she confronted her father about his drinking.

  Marshall isn’t your father. Look at him. He’s good and kind and generous.

  Her dad had been good and kind and generous, too—when he was sober. But the drinking turned him into a different person. A blind man. Someone she couldn’t rely on. Someone who didn’t value himself the way she valued him.

  Why did thinking about her father still hurt?

  And why had he never reached out to her? She’d given him her number. Hadn’t changed it. He could easily look up her address on the internet. But three years had passed without a word.

  “Hey, Ainsley?”

  She blinked away her turmoil and met Marshall’s eyes. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry. Can we go back to celebrating?”

  She gave him a smile. “Absolutely.”

  Maybe it wasn’t right for her to compare Marshall to her dad. And maybe she was being too hard on him about Belle.

  The hospital would be calling soon. A concrete job offer in her hand would go a long way to getting her thoughts back where they belonged.

  She was a realist. Marshall had hammered it home to her ever since she’d met him that Belle came first in his life. Period.

  Falling for him would be a disaster. Because she’d always come in second.

  Chapter Eight

  He’d messed things up with Ainsley. Late the next morning in the far pasture, Marshall injected a shot of medicine into a black calf. The animal was clearly sick, but the minute Marshall had started swinging the rope, the crafty gal had decided she wasn’t ailing after all. Marshall had chased her for several minutes before catching an ankle and bringing her down. He murmured sweet nothings to her as he patted her side. The rest of the herd quietly grazed as if nothing was going on.

  The cold air and clear skies gave him too much time to think. And his thoughts ping-ponged among Belle, the babies, Ainsley and Raleigh. Every time they bounced to Ainsley, he shooed them away. He’d disappointed her last night. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he was 100 percent sure he had.

  She’d been fine before he mentioned wanting Raleigh to take over the early-morning feeding. Why had she taken Raleigh’s side, anyhow? She’d been so easy to talk to before that. Few people asked about his life, and she’d seemed genuinely interested.

  What had he done wrong?

  He prodded his horse into a trot to return to the stables. His chores were done for the day. Saturdays held a lighter workload for him. No doubt Raleigh wouldn’t stop working until later in the afternoon. Let him be a glutton for punishment. The other cowboys were more than capable of handling the afternoon duties on their own.

  After taking care of his horse, Marshall left the stables. He figured he’d clean up, then check on Ainsley and the babies. But after taking three steps, he halted, belatedly remembering Ainsley had offered to babysit the quadruplets so Belle and Raleigh could get away as a couple today.

  But Raleigh was still out riding, which defeated the purpose.

  One person did not a couple make.

  Why was Ainsley so generous to his sister? Especially after giving so much energy to the children while Belle barely did a thing? While his sister had her good points, treating Ainsley nicely wasn’t one of them. Yet Ainsley continued to shower her with kindness.

  Shame shot an arrow into his heart.

  If Ainsley could sacrifice for his sister, couldn’t he sacrifice for Raleigh?

  Forget it. I don’t want to. I’m mad at him. He was a real jerk yesterday. He doesn’t deserve my sacrifice.

  He took four more steps toward the cabins. Stopped in his tracks. When he’d lived at Yearling Group Home, Dottie had made him and the other guys memorize scripture. One verse came to mind. “Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.”

  Ugh. He hated when his conscience reared up. He could practically hear Dottie’s voice in his ear from all those years ago. “You can’t earn salvation, hon. We all sin. And we show our thanks to Jesus by following His commands. Love God with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

  He muttered, “Love your neighbor,” and trudged back to the stables. Guess he was getting back in the saddle. To his surprise, Raleigh was already there brushing his horse.

  “I was just coming to find you.” Marshall gave him a hand.

  “Oh, yeah? Why?”

  “Ainsley offered to babysit so you and Belle can go into Sweet Dreams and spend some time together.”

  “Belle mentioned it.” Raleigh glanced up at him. “I’m worried about a section of fence out past the creek. I’m getting ready to drive my truck out there now.”

  Marshall clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man, why don’t you let me handle the fence? Go home. Get cleaned up. Enjoy your wife. I’ll help with the babies when I’m done, so you don’t need to worry about hurrying back, okay?”

  Raleigh slowly rose, blinking. “Really? You’d do that?”

  “Sure.”

  He went through detailed instructions about the fence until Marshall finally laughed and said, “Enough. I’ve got this. Now get out of here.”

  Raleigh nodded, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Watching his walk turn into a run lightened Marshall’s heart. Offering to help had been the right thing to do. And fixing the fence wouldn’t take more than an hour.

  Then he could spend the rest of the day doing what he wanted—holding his nieces and nephews and spending time with Ainsley. If she wanted him around...

  * * *

  “He’s not coming,” Belle called from the hallway.

  “It’s still early.” Ainsley made kissy faces at Max as she lifted him in front of her face. He licked his lips, his eyes growing wide. She brought him closer and kissed his tiny cheek. He smelled like baby shampoo. All the babies did—she’d given them baths earlier. She’d tried to get Belle involved, but to no avail. Belle had been curling her hair and picking out
an outfit to wear. “Why don’t you text him?”

  Belle entered the living room wearing black leggings and a long, cream-colored sweater. Her hair lay in pretty curls over her shoulders, and her makeup highlighted her brown eyes and high cheekbones.

  “You look gorgeous.” Ainsley rose from the couch, holding Max to her chest. “I love your outfit.”

  “It’s okay?” Belle held her arms out and turned back and forth. “It’s not too tight? Oh, who am I kidding? It is. I’ll never lose the baby weight.”

  “It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.” Ainsley waved her concerns away. “And your curves look good on you. Send some of those my way, why don’t you?”

  Belle tugged on the sleeve of the sweater. “I ordered this online a few weeks ago. It’s so weird not knowing my size. I had to guess.”

  “Well, you guessed correctly.” Ainsley set Max on the floor next to Ben, and she picked up Grace. “Why don’t you relax for a while?”

  Belle’s eyes darted from the babies to the clock on the wall. It was after three. Then she dropped to sit on the couch. “I might as well. I’ve been stood up.”

  “He’ll be here. He probably got tied up with the cows.” Ainsley ran her fingers over Grace’s head. The fine hair was soft. Ainsley would love to see her and Lila in matching headbands.

  “The cows. Hmmph.” Belle stretched her legs out on the couch and let her head fall back on the throw pillow. “Cattle is so much more important than anything going on in here.” She waved her arm to take in the living room. “He hasn’t even set up the Christmas tree.”

  “Do you get a real tree?” Ainsley sat on the other couch and made silly faces at Grace. The baby cooed in response.

  “No, an artificial. Raleigh puts it together and strings the lights every year. He usually has it up by now. We like to wait until night falls, turn on Christmas music and decorate it together.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” She glanced at Belle, who was chewing a fingernail. Maybe holding a baby would relax her. “Want to hold Lila?”

  Belle turned her head away. “I’d better not.”

  Ainsley frowned. What did that mean—she’d better not? Sometimes the woman exasperated her. She snuggled Grace against her shoulder. The gurgles and aahs Grace uttered filled her heart. There was nothing better than holding a happy baby.