Stand-In Rancher Daddy

by Renee Ryan

  Suddenly a Father

  Rancher CJ Thorn isn’t ready to graduate from uncle to brand-new daddy—but he has no choice. After his widowed brother runs off, a pair of adorable twins have no one but CJ...and lovely neighbor Molly Langley. She’s helped with the girls for so long that she’s almost part of the family. Almost. CJ knows his family isn’t good enough for her. Not when his brother’s actions have disgraced the Thorn name yet again.

  Watching CJ become a devoted father would soften any woman’s heart. Yet Molly must remain immune. CJ deserves more than a woman who can’t have children. Held back by fear, it’ll take a disaster forcing the community together before they’re ready to risk a chance on happiness.

  “Miss Molly, look. I’m wearing my favorite pink ribbon. It’s Pa’s favorite, too.”

  Sarah’s gaze skittered around, searching. “I wore it just for him.”

  The twins had gotten it into their heads that Ned would show up at church today. CJ wasn’t as confident.

  Molly pasted on a cheery smile. “Why don’t we wait inside the tent?”

  “No,” Anna said. “I want to wait for Pa here.”

  “What if Pa doesn’t come back?” Sarah’s eyes grew wide. “What if, like Mama, he never comes back?”

  Anna burst into tears.

  Molly pulled the children into her arms. “No matter what happens here today, you will always have me.”

  “And you’ll always have me.” CJ looked from one precious face to the other, his resolve growing. These girls were his responsibility now.

  He risked a glance at Molly. He remembered what she’d said earlier. We’re in this together.

  Eyes never leaving his, she took Sarah’s hand. CJ reached for Anna’s.

  Together, they guided the girls into the tent.

  * * *

  LONE STAR COWBOY LEAGUE:

  THE FOUNDING YEARS—

  Bighearted ranchers in small-town Texas

  Stand-In Rancher Daddy—

  Renee Ryan, July 2016

  A Family for the Rancher—

  Louise M. Gouge, August 2016

  A Rancher of Convenience—

  Regina Scott, September 2016

  RENEE RYAN grew up in a Florida beach town where she learned to surf, sort of. With a degree from FSU, she explored career opportunities at a Florida theme park and a modeling agency and even taught high school economics. She currently lives with her husband in Nebraska, and many have mistaken their overweight cat for a small bear. You may contact Renee at reneeryan.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @reneeryanbooks.

  Stand-In Rancher Daddy

  Renee Ryan

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

  —Hebrews 11:1

  I dedicate this book to Louise Gouge and Regina Scott, two incredibly talented authors who made writing this book easy. It was a joy and honor to work with you on this series.

  Contents

  Cover

  Back Cover Text

  Introduction

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Bible Verse

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Extract

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Little Horn, Texas, June 1895

  A full hour before the sun peeked over the horizon, Molly Carson Langley slid out of bed. Ranch work started early in Texas Hill Country. If she wished to make her morning journey before the sun rose, she must hurry.

  With fast, measured steps, she padded through the room. The hardwood floor was polished to a smooth patina and felt warm beneath her bare feet. A muffled sigh slipped past her lips. After three years of marriage and successfully managing her own household, she didn’t belong in her childhood home anymore.

  She wasn’t sure where she belonged. Until she figured it out, a pair of motherless four-year-olds needed her. That mattered. It had to matter. Of course it mattered.

  Jaw set at a determined angle, Molly stuffed her feet inside a pair of ankle boots and put on her favorite calico dress with the lavender floral print. She wound her blond hair in a loose braid down her back, then packed a small bag with personal items from her dresser. A hairbrush, a rack of pins, several ribbons in colors she hoped the girls would like, and her worn Bible with the pages crinkled at the edges.

  One glance out the window told her the morning sky was shifting from black to deep purple. Dawn was drawing near.

  Hurry, Molly.

  She made her way toward the door. The other occupant in the room slept peacefully, her soft, feminine snoring the only sound cutting through the still, humid air.

  Without breaking stride, Molly smiled down at her sister. At sixteen, the dreams of youth were still fresh and untarnished in Daisy’s young mind. Seven years older, Molly could hardly relate to the girl. The death of her husband eleven months ago made it all the more difficult.

  Her feet grew heavy as stone and, for a brief moment, despair filled Molly’s heart. She’d lost more than her husband. So. Much. More.

  No. She would not feel sorry for herself. If he were here, George would tell her that the good Lord had a plan for her life. No matter how dark it seemed right now, the particulars were already worked out. She just needed to have faith.

  Molly wasn’t as faithful as her preacher husband had been. Not anymore. Perhaps she never had been.

  At least she’d had somewhere to go after George’s death. Molly would concentrate on being grateful her family had welcomed her home.

  Her future might look bleak, but she was still young, still vital, still necessary to a family facing their own tragedy. When she’d returned home, she’d never expected her best friend to die suddenly and leave behind twin daughters. Molly would take care of Penelope’s children until she was no longer needed.

  Resolve firmly in place, she slung the satchel over her shoulder and tiptoed into the empty hallway. She entered the kitchen, took two full steps and froze.

  A pang of guilt whispered through her.

  “Good morning, Mama.” Molly adopted what she hoped was an airy tone. “You’re up early.”

  “I was going to say the same about you.” The soft, musical lilt was in stark contrast to the concern in her mother’s eyes.

  Even after birthing five children, Helen Carson remained a beautiful woman. Her blond hair, streaked with silver strands, was pulled back in a serviceable bun that revealed a face nearly identical to her two daughters. Save for a few lines and wrinkles, the high cheekbones were the same, as were the straight nose, pale blue eyes and stubborn set of her chin.

  “Well, I’m off to the Thorn ranch.” Molly attempted to shift around her mother.

  “I’d like a word with you before you leave.”

  Molly tried not to sigh. This was the reason she’d woken early: to avoid a difficult conversat
ion with her mother.

  Helen Carson was fiercely protective of all her children, and that included her oldest daughter. What she refused to understand was that Molly was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. “There is nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

  Her mother’s features showed distress and something else—not censure, precisely, but close. “It’s been nearly a year since your husband’s death. George wouldn’t want you hiding from the world.”

  “I’m not hiding from the world.” Molly blew out a frustrated burst of air, hating the defensive note in her voice. “I’m serving a family in need.”

  George would understand. He would even encourage her. An itinerant preacher, his personal mission had been to help the less fortunate. Before he’d contracted the fever that ultimately killed him, George had shared a love of serving others side by side with Molly.

  Her marriage had been a happy one. Until Molly failed to provide her husband with the one thing he wanted most—a child. She’d been bitterly disappointed over her failure as a wife. George’s resentment had only added to her shame.

  If her mother knew the truth, Molly was certain she’d give her words of comfort, the kind meant to heal her troubled heart. But Molly didn’t want sympathy. She certainly didn’t want to discuss her secret shame.

  Anything but that.

  She stood straighter, lifted her chin and attempted a second time to step around her mother.

  Helen Carson moved directly into her path. “It’s been six months since Penelope became ill and died. Surely there is someone else who can care for her daughters.”

  “There is no one else.”

  Besides, Molly had given her friend her word. Even if she hadn’t made a promise, the twins needed a woman’s influence in their lives. They had their father, yet even after six months he was still absorbed in his own grief. And lately, Molly had noticed him distancing himself from his daughters, barely going through the motions of being a parent.

  Their uncle sometimes stepped in and filled the void. Molly admired him for that—oh, how, she admired him—but CJ had his hands full running the Triple-T ranch.

  “If you won’t listen to reason,” her mother said, “then at least consider taking Daisy with you.”

  “You need her here.”

  Her mother opened her mouth to argue.

  Molly cut her off. “Please try to understand. Until Ned marries again, or another solution presents itself, I will honor my promise to Penelope. If our roles were reversed, she would do the same for me.”

  “I can’t help but think there’s something you’re not telling me, some reason you’re not sharing with me.”

  “The twins need me.” What woman didn’t want to be needed, especially one who couldn’t have children of her own? “I should think that reason enough.”

  “Molly, won’t you please be honest with me?”

  “It’s nearly dawn.” She looked pointedly at the band of gray riding low on the horizon. “The girls will be awake soon.”

  This time, when Molly made for the back door, her mother pulled her into a fierce hug. “As soon as you’re ready to tell me what’s troubling you, I’ll be here to listen.”

  “There’s nothing troubling me.” She stepped out of the embrace. “Other than my concern for two small children.”

  With her mother’s sigh of resignation ringing in her ears, Molly hurried out of the house. She made quick work of saddling Sadie, the ten-year-old gray mare born the same year as Molly’s youngest brother, Donny.

  Halfway between her family’s large spread and the much smaller Triple-T ranch, Molly felt the tension in her shoulders melt away. A soft flutter of air stirred the leaves of the Texas oaks nestled in a small grove on her left. She breathed in, smelled the faint scents of sassafras and wild cherry.

  Molly loved this time of morning, when night slowly surrendered to day and everything felt new again. When possibilities stretched before her and the future didn’t feel so hopeless.

  Rolling Hills ranch was the largest cattle operation in the area. Tall, rugged bluffs peppered the landscape as far as the eye could see. The green leaves of cottonwood trees shared space with large granite and limestone rocks. The sound of water sloshing on the lakeshore near the edge of her parents’ property accompanied a bobwhite’s distinctive whistle.

  A movement in the distance caught her attention. Narrowing her eyes, she watched a horse and rider race across a flat patch of land. The man’s slouched posture was at odds with the magnificence of the black stallion beneath him.

  Molly’s stomach dropped.

  She knew that horse, and the rider. But the two did not belong together. Why hadn’t Ned taken his own gelding? What was he doing with his brother’s horse?

  No one rode Thunder but CJ. The animal was too valuable to be mishandled and...

  Molly had a terrible, awful feeling about this.

  Please, Lord, let me be wrong. The evidence suggested otherwise. She should have seen this coming.

  Why hadn’t she put the pieces together before now?

  Ned had become increasingly morose in recent weeks, muttering things under his breath such as “What’s the use?” and “I can’t keep doing this.” Molly hadn’t thoroughly understood what he meant and she certainly hadn’t wanted to overstep her bounds. After all, she was helping out the Thorn family in a temporary capacity.

  Another unsettling thought occurred. Surely Ned hadn’t left the twins alone in the house.

  What if he had?

  Molly wrapped her arms around Sadie’s neck. “Come on, old girl.” She gave a gentle kick to the mare’s ribs. “I need you to run faster than you ever have before.”

  The horse responded with a burst of speed. Once they were on Thorn land, Molly urged Sadie to a trot, guiding her past the outbuildings, around the corral and on to the main house, a simple, one-story, whitewashed clapboard structure.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed smoke coming from the bunkhouse, a sure sign Cookie had already started making breakfast for the handful of ranch hands CJ employed.

  Was CJ eating with the hands, as he did every morning? Was he even aware his brother had left the main house?

  Molly pulled Sadie to a halt and scrambled off the horse’s back. She hurried onto the porch she and the girls had swept clean yesterday afternoon. Without bothering to knock, she rushed inside the house.

  Thick gloom closed in around her. The silence was so heavy she decided the children were surely still asleep.

  The children.

  Molly must get to Anna and Sarah. She must ensure they were safe. She moved deeper into the house and froze when she caught a faint whiff of whiskey. Oh, Ned.

  The situation was far worse than Molly had feared, and certainly explained Ned’s increasing unpredictability. Her friend’s husband had evidently turned to the bottle to swallow his grief. Unfortunately, consuming alcohol was not a wise solution.

  Heart in her throat, Molly blinked through the darkness. Her vision slowly cleared, then locked on the tall silhouette of a familiar figure.

  A ripple of longing flowed through her before she ruthlessly shut it down.

  CJ Thorn stood before her, silent, his eyes on the piece of paper in his hand. His features were inscrutable in the dim light cast by the lamp on the table beside him, but Molly knew every line and curve by heart.

  She knew every precious angle of his handsome face, the strong, square jaw and the dark eyebrows slashed over eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee. He was more than merely good-looking. He was a man of integrity and one who’d worked hard to keep his brother from following in their father’s footsteps.

  Ned had taken to whiskey, anyway. CJ must be so disappointed.

  “CJ?” She gently touched his sleeve.

&nb
sp; He looked up. Blinked. Then blinked again, as if he hadn’t expected to find her standing so close.

  “I saw Ned riding away from the ranch.” She waited a beat, then supplied the rest of the bad news. “He was on your horse.”

  Surprise flared in his eyes. “Ned took Thunder?”

  She nodded.

  Anger replaced the earlier shock, followed by such sorrow Molly could actually feel the weight of the emotion in her own heart. The vulnerable expression made him more compelling than usual.

  CJ Thorn was not a man who needed to be more compelling than usual.

  The children, she told herself. Anna and Sarah must come first. With the twins in mind, Molly released CJ’s arm and stepped back.

  * * *

  In the predawn gloom, CJ tried to focus on the woman standing beside him. But his mind kept returning to Ned and the terrible choice his brother had made.

  No matter how hard CJ fought to keep his breathing steady, his gut roiled with regret. This was the moment he’d been dreading for weeks, when his brother gave up completely.

  Rage boiled into something CJ couldn’t begin to name. Ned had not only made his escape on CJ’s prize stallion, he’d not only abandoned his own children, but he’d left the girls alone in the house. Any number of things could have happened to them.

  Even for Ned, that was an all-time low. What was next? Cattle rustling? Bank robbery?

  For months, CJ had held out hope that the worst of Ned’s grief was behind him. He’d prayed that his younger brother was on the brink of returning to the man he’d been while Penelope was alive.

  Obviously, that had been wishful thinking.

  All the emotion CJ had been holding back threatened to spill over, filling him until he thought he might explode.

  “Is that a note from Ned?” Molly’s voice seemed to come at him through a thick wall of water.

  He gave a brief nod before returning his gaze to the hastily scrawled note. The handwriting was messy, the message even messier.

  Ned had always preferred the easier tasks on the ranch, but he’d been a decent man at the core. Penelope had brought out the best in him. Since her death, Ned had slipped deeper and deeper into despair.