The Rancher's Unexpected Family

by Myrna Mackenzie

  “What’s wrong?” There had to be something wrong. He had left hours ago, and Holt was, as he’d said, a man who never looked back.

  “I lied,” he said. “I do look back. I do remember. And I regret. I think of the things I wish I’d said, and you’d think that would help me the next time, but it doesn’t. So I live with the fact that my father and I never shared our feelings, I probably didn’t give my friend Hank the proper goodbye he needed and if I had been able to tell Lilith what she wanted to hear, our child...well, I don’t know, but maybe the ending might have felt less brutal. Now here you are, and you matter...the most. I can say the unimportant things, the grumpy things, I can discuss minor issues, I can even offer you mundane compliments. But to express what’s in here—” he tapped his chest “—it’s awkward, dumb, not anything anyone would want to hear.”

  For a second she started to say that she would, but that might sound as if she was pressuring him. “Holt, when I came here I didn’t trust anyone, not even myself. I was running scared and bluffing my way through, trying to look capable so no one would see how frightened and unsure I was. Everyone I had cared about had betrayed me and criticized me. And then there was you. You didn’t sugarcoat anything and you didn’t even cooperate half the time, but you were true. You had your principles and your rules and you stuck to them no matter what. You were—are—the most trustworthy man I’ve ever met. Knowing that you existed, that there was one solid, steadfast person in the world I could depend on, come flood or fire, changed me, inspired me to have faith in myself and helped me become more than I’d ever been. So there’s nothing you could ever say that I wouldn’t want to hear, no matter how awkwardly it was phrased. But I want you to know that you don’t have to say anything.”

  “Kathryn. Hell, Kathryn, I didn’t even say thank you for last night.”

  Her heart lurched. She managed a smile. “Yes, you did. You didn’t have to say the words. You showed me.” And then she just couldn’t help herself. She rose on her toes and kissed him. Just once.

  He groaned. He kissed her, too. Just once. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to her and she unfolded it. It was color-coded.

  The code for Physical was yellow.

  You make my knees weak. I wake up every morning wanting to kiss you; I go to sleep each night wanting to hold you. The scent of your hair makes me think of...sunshine and fields of roses. When you grow old, I’ll still love looking at you, because your beauty comes from the inside.

  She didn’t read it out loud because she could already see that Holt was squirming under her scrutiny of his prose. She moved on to blue for Other.

  You make me want to be a better man than I am. You drive me crazy with your demands, but I seem to like being driven crazy because I look forward to seeing you. Every day. You have a beautiful, sweet baby girl I adore.

  Kathryn had to stop reading for a minute while she wiped her eyes. Then she looked down again. There was just one thing more.

  I am so happy for your success. I want you to be happy forever, and I want you to know that I will love you all the days of my life.

  Her face nearly crumpled. “For real?” she asked.

  “It’s on the list, isn’t it?” he asked, drawing her to him and whispering against her neck. “Lists don’t lie. At least ours don’t.”

  “I liked the color-coding.”

  “Two seemed kind of skimpy, but I was afraid you would leave before I finished. Besides, this was my first time. I don’t have any practice in writing love letters.”

  “I’m glad. I wouldn’t want to think of some other woman reading about how you love her.”

  “That won’t happen. You’re the one, the only one. All the days of my life,” he repeated. “Now. What time do you have to be in Illinois?” His voice sounded thick.

  “You’re not asking me to stay?”

  He hesitated. “I don’t want to stand in your way. You worked hard to get your degree and to get this job.”

  “And I’ll get another one. Closer to home. Closer to Larkville. Austin’s close. If I make a big enough nuisance of myself, maybe they’ll like me and give me a job.”

  “Maybe they’ll love you,” he said, and he kissed her nose and then her lips.

  “Just as long as you do.”

  “I definitely do love you, Kathryn.”

  “Do you want to know how much I love you, Holt?”

  “I hope it’s a lot. I hope you’ll agree to marry me.”

  “I think it was written in the cards. Or at least it was written.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “When I was cleaning out boxes for packing today, I came across this. It was written years ago and I was pretty young, so I’m sorry for the girlish cursive and the purple ink.”

  She opened the yellowing sheet of paper where a much younger Kathryn had written “I love, love, love, love, love...”

  The words went to the end of the page where Holt’s name was printed. And in the header of the paper, she had written “Kathryn Calhoun. Mrs. Holt Calhoun.”

  “How could I not marry you?” she teased. “It says right here in bright purple that my name is Kathryn Calhoun.”

  He laughed out loud. “Darlin’, how did I miss you back then?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. You’ve got me now.”

  And he swept her into his arms. He had her.

  EPILOGUE

  ON a sunny blue-sky day in August, three months after Kathryn had walked back into Holt’s world, Kathryn and Holt embarked on their next project together: their wedding. The Double Bar C had never looked so festive. There were white and pale blue ribbons and flowers everywhere. Daedalus even had pale blue ribbons braided into his mane as Kathryn, dressed in a white dress and perched precariously on a sidesaddle, met Holt at the juncture where they were to begin the procession.

  As he mounted his father’s stallion, Storm, he smiled at her. “I hope you know that only the fact that I love you more than I love my dignity or my horse’s dignity is getting me up on a horse that is decked out in ribbons.”

  Kathryn’s heart filled to overflowing. “I hope you know that I love you enough that I would have married you in a mud hut with no ribbons, flowers or guests.”

  “I do,” he said. “But I want people to know how much I care. You deserve only the best.”

  “Well, I’ve got the best. The best cowboy. The best man.”

  “Ah, I see you’re still delusional, love. Well, let’s ride, then.” They turned their horses in the direction of their eager audience.

  The people of Larkville lined a rose-petal-strewn path that led to an altar at the edge of a grassy field. They cheered as Holt and Kathryn passed by.

  When the two of them reached the altar, Wes and Dave led the horses away, and Holt turned to Kathryn. He kissed her.

  “Not yet,” someone shouted and everyone laughed.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “Not yet for that, either,” someone else said.

  Kathryn kissed Holt. “I love you.”

  “Would someone please get these two married already?” a third person called out.

  So the ceremony began. It was short and sweet with the only holdup being when Blue delivered the rings and wanted to lick Kathryn to death. The pastor had barely said the last words before Holt swept Kathryn close. “Thank you for waiting for me,” he said, as his mouth covered hers in a kiss that took Kathryn’s breath away. Then he kissed her again, softer this time. Sweeter, but just as nice. All Holt’s kisses were nice.

  Eventually, however, he set her back on her feet, and they smiled at each other as the recessional music began.

  Holt held his arm out to Kathryn, but she shook her head. “Not yet,” she said quietly. “Gus?”

  Gus, who was seated in the front row, stepped forward. He was holding a book.

  Holt raised an eyebrow. “You want me to read? Now?”

  Kathryn took the book.
“Not exactly. I just... Remember the day everyone was giving you gifts and you wouldn’t take mine? This is it. I researched the history of the Double Bar C, and everyone contributed photographs and stories. It’s made so you can add more pages. Things about your parents and Jess, Megan and Nate only you would know. And your new brothers and sisters.” She smiled at Ellie, who smiled back.

  Holt looked down. He blinked. Then he took Kathryn’s face in both his hands and kissed her, hard. He smiled at his sisters, who were beaming, and at Nate, recently home from the army, who gave him a silent nod. Then he turned to Ellie. “I would love to know more. To know you. All of you.”

  Ellie blinked back tears. “I’m going to love getting to know you, too.”

  In the brief moment that followed, Kathryn leaned toward Holt and whispered, “I didn’t want to put anything about your baby or Lilith in there without talking to you, but I want you to know that he—or she—is going in there. I know you wanted that baby and grieved its loss.”

  Holt didn’t speak for a minute. When he did, his voice was thick. “Thank you. I did love that baby and I hope you know that I love Izzy heart and soul. I consider her mine.”

  She smiled. “You’re going to be such a good daddy if you don’t spoil her silly. She already adores you.”

  He grinned. “I intend to spoil all our children silly. I mean to love them like crazy and tell them so every day, but I’m never going to love anyone the way that I love you.”

  “We can’t hear you,” someone yelled. “What are you talking about?”

  Holt and Kathryn turned to face all of Larkville. “We’re talking about making babies. Kathryn wants to get right on it,” Holt said.

  “Now?” Wes asked, laughing.

  “Just as soon as Holt quits talking,” Kathryn teased. “This man just loves to talk and make long speeches.”

  Everyone laughed, and Holt smiled at his wife. “You’re going to pay for that, darlin’.”

  “I certainly hope so, love,” she said. “Here’s my first payment.” And she launched herself into his arms.

  The people of Larkville went wild. Holt Calhoun had finally found his voice, his love, his future and his reason for living.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of The Cowboy Comes Home by Patricia Thayer!

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  CHAPTER ONE

  WILLIE NELSON’S “On the Road Again” poured out of the open windows of Johnny Jameson’s truck as he drove along the country road. It was January in Texas, but he was energized by the cold air, knowing the temperature would rise to triple digits soon enough come spring. No matter what the weather, he’d much rather be outside than cooped up indoors.

  He always liked to keep on the move. Never felt the need to stay at any one place too long. More times than he could count, he had lived out of his vehicle.

  He’d been lucky lately. The jobs came to him, and he could pick and choose what he wanted to take on. That was the reason he was coming to Larkville. He’d been intrigued when he’d heard the job description. Also because Clay Calhoun and his prize quarter horses were legendary in Texas. But before he got too excited, he wanted to assess the situation before he made any promises to the man, or to the job. If there still was a job, since the offer had been made months ago.

  He’d been delayed by a stubborn colt, but after he’d finished training it, the thoroughbred was worth what the owner had paid. When he’d called Calhoun to let him know he’d be delayed with previous commitments, he’d ended up talking to Clay’s son Holt, who’d explained that his father was ill, but assured him that the job would be there whenever he arrived at the ranch. Johnny had said to expect him around the first of the year.

  As it turned out it was the first of the year, and he was finally headed for the Double Bar C Ranch. He glanced in the rearview mirror at his trailer, and his precious cargo, Risky Business, his three-year-old roan stallion.

  His attention focused back ahead and on the southeast Texas landscape of rolling hills and pastures that had the yellow hue of winter. He looked toward a group of bare trees and a cattle water trough nestled at the base. There was also a visitor, one beautiful black stallion. The animal reared up, fighting to get loose from his lead rope that seemed to be caught on something.

  He glanced around to see if anyone was nearby. Not a soul. He pulled his truck to the side of the road and got out. After walking back to check his own horse, he headed toward the open pasture to hopefully save another.

  * * *

  Jess knew she was going to be blamed for this.

  Since her brother Holt was away on personal business, her sister, Megan, was away at school and her brother Nate was in the army, she was the one family member around to handle Double Bar C emergencies. Even though she really wasn’t involved in the day-to-day running of the ranch—Holt was in charge of that—she knew finding Night Storm had to take top priority.

  The bigger problem was, how do you find, much less bring back, a rogue stallion? No one but Clay Calhoun had ever been able to handle the valuable quarter horse. Now that Dad was gone, the question was what to do with Storm.

  The ranch foreman, Wes Brogan, had decided to let the animal out to the fenced pasture, but before Wes was able to transport Storm there, the horse broke away.

  When she’d gotten the call early this morning, she immediately went to the barn, saddled up Goldie and rode out to find Storm. She’d been on a horse since she was a baby, so there wasn’t any problem keeping up with the ranch hands. To cover more ground, the crew took off in different directions of the vast Calhoun land and so Jess set off on her own.

  The Double Bar C had been in the family for generations, and her father had worked hard so it would remain with the Calhouns for many more. Big Clay had loved his horses, especially this stallion, but there had been trouble since Storm had arrived at the ranch. The valuable horse had been mistreated in the past. Eventually Storm began to trust her father somewhat, but since Clay’s death a few months back, the horse’s behavior had gotten worse and no one had been able to handle him.

  She sighed, feeling the bite of the January cold against her cheeks. She slowed her horse as they came to the rise and suddenly caught a spot of black. Taking out her binoculars, she saw the welcome sight.

  “Hallelujah!” she cried out, seeing Storm. Then she looked again and saw a man holding on to his lead rope. She didn’t recognize him as one of the hands, then she spotted a truck and trailer alongside the road.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not going to steal Double Bar C property.” She kicked her heels into the mare and they shot off.

  * * *

  Johnny had worked with the horse for close to thirty minutes and had made some headway. The animal was still in distress, but at least Johnny had gotten close enough to loop a rope around his neck so he could calm the animal.

  And what a beauty he was. His glistening black coat looked well cared for, he thought as he kept the spirited stallion moving in a circle. He pulled the rope taut, knowing he would need an arena to truly work him.

  The horse got more agitated when he heard a rider approach, but Johnny couldn’t take his attention from his task.

  “What do you think you’re doing on Calhoun land?”

  He was surprised to hear the female voice.

  “Trying to help this
valuable horse.” He managed to maneuver around to see her.

  “He’s not your valuable horse—he belongs to my father.”

  He noticed the pretty buckskin mare, then he lifted his gaze to the tall blond beauty who sat straight in the saddle. Her long slender legs hugged the animal’s flanks and she controlled her horse as if she were born to ride.

  “Then maybe I should be having this conversation with Mr. Calhoun.”

  He heard her gasp, followed by, “That’s a little difficult since his death.”

  Thrown by the news, Johnny slowed the stallion but when the animal acted up, he turned his attention back to him.

  “Please accept my condolences, Ms.…”

  “Jess Calhoun.” She took her lariat off her saddle. “What do you need me to do?”

  Back to the problem at hand. “If you can manage it, throw another rope over the stallion’s head?” he asked.

  “Storm. The horse’s name is Night Storm.”

  She swung the rope overhead and it took a few tries, but she finally hit her target.

  Johnny watched as Ms. Calhoun walked her mare backward, pulling the rope tight. That helped to get the animal under control. Somewhat.

  “Keep it taut.”

  She did.

  But she also needed questions answered. “Not that I don’t appreciate your help, but I have no idea who you are.”

  “Johnny Jameson. I was on my way to see Clay Calhoun. I had no idea about his death.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. “I spoke with your father last September in Dallas at a horse auction. He’d asked me to come to the ranch then, but I had a job to finish first and it went on a lot longer than planned.” He tugged on the rope. Would this horse ever tire out? “I called Clay right away, but I talked with your brother Holt. He assured me that I’d be welcome whenever I arrived.”