The Bull Rider's Twins

by Tina Leonard

  “No, this is my natural state now,” he said, and she nodded.

  “Probably.” She handed him the daughter who’d gone to sleep on her breast.

  “So,” he said, taking the baby tenderly, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to make this a solid, no-holds-barred commitment. I have a feeling you’re going to like being married to me.”

  Darla laughed. “Well, confidence isn’t your short suit.”

  “So, I’ll go rustle up some breakfast. What are you in the mood for, little mama?” The least he could do was grab some grub, since she was doing all the work—and as lovely as that work was, she didn’t seem to need him all that much.

  “Fruit,” Darla said. “I’d kiss you for fresh fruit.”

  “Really? Does a truckload rate more than a kiss?”

  Darla smiled at him, and Judah tried to ignore the fact that she hadn’t said a whole lot about staying married to him longer than the time it took to give his daughters his name.

  Which was now.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” he said, “speaking of gifts and whatnot—”

  “We weren’t,” she said. “We were just talking about breakfast.”

  “Well, I know, but a guy has to work in opportunity when it presents itself.” He handed her the jeweler’s box he’d picked up in town. “It’s not a banana or an apple, but it’s something.”

  She indicated the baby on her breast she was supporting with one arm. “Would you mind opening it for me? My hands are full at the moment.”

  Okay, so maybe his timing wasn’t all that great. Judah told himself it didn’t matter—timing wasn’t everything.

  Or maybe it was. He snapped open the lid, and Darla gasped.

  “Judah!”

  He laughed when she freed a hand to grab the box so she could look at the sapphire bracelet more closely.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she said. “But what’s it for?”

  He chuckled and took the box back. “To thank you for my babies? To work my way out of the doghouse I land myself in occasionally? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I love you.”

  She looked at him, cornflower-blue eyes assessing him. “Do you?”

  “I might,” he said, putting the sapphire-and-diamond bracelet on her wrist. “Maybe. When you’re ready.”

  She looked at the bracelet, then smiled. “Thank you. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Judah stroked his daughter’s tiny head. “Our babies look like their mom. So they are the most beautiful things I own.”

  Darla’s eyes sparkled, and then she broke eye contact. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “You’re welcome. So,” he said cheerfully, feeling better about his place in the world already. “Bananas? Apples? Peaches?”

  “All,” she said, looking back at him, “and when does the moving truck arrive?”

  Chapter Twenty

  “About that moving truck,” Judah said. “I think it’s too soon, don’t you?”

  Darla touched the lovely bracelet he had given her, and wondered why he was so worried about every little thing. She was fine; their daughters were fine. He’d asked her about making a real commitment, and that commitment was best made in a home they started out in together. Maybe Rancho Diablo was just so much a part of him that he couldn’t relax until he was there.

  “If you’re worried about me, Judah, don’t be. I’ve waited a long time for us to be a family. You don’t have to stress out all the time.”

  “I do,” Judah said. “It’s a new husband, new dad thing.”

  “All right,” Darla said. “But the sooner you’re not feeling like a fish out of water, the sooner you’ll de-stress.”

  “I don’t know. I’m accepting stress as my due in life at the moment. But,” he said, clearly trying to take all the blame for his unease, “I would feel better at the ranch, although not for the reason you assume. I’m not unhappy here with you, Darla. If things were different, this house would be fine for a month or two. At least until our daughters start needing some elbow room.”

  Darla gazed down at their diminutive babies. “I think that’ll be a while, don’t you?”

  “Nah. They’re going to be tall like their mother and father.”

  “That’s probably true, but I don’t think it’ll happen overnight.”

  “The way they’re chowing, I wouldn’t underestimate them,” Judah said enviously, eyeing his breast-feeding daughter.

  Darla smiled. “So what’s the reason?”

  “What reason?” He appeared momentarily disoriented from staring at her breasts, and Darla shook her head.

  “The real reason you want to move to the ranch, if it isn’t for a bigger house to raise your family in.”

  “Oh,” Judah said, bringing his gaze back to her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  She frowned. “Yes, you do. You’re a pretty practical guy. You know why you do things. So quit hiding it.”

  “Uh, I have to get breakfast for my love right now,” he said, edging toward the door. “Don’t you worry about a thing while I’m gone, and when I get back, I’ll watch babies so you can shower.”

  He escaped out the door, and a second later she heard his truck roar off down the driveway, no slower than he’d driven in. He was always in a hurry. Darla looked down at the bracelet on her arm, mesmerized by the twinkling diamonds and deep blue sapphires, and wondered why Judah wouldn’t just tell her what he was thinking.

  “Maybe he’s one of those men who keep everything inside,” she murmured to her daughters. “The strong, silent type. Which will be hard to deal with since I’m not a mind reader.”

  She knew he’d wanted her out at the ranch yesterday—but he’d just said it wasn’t because of building their life together in a bigger house. Darla closed her eyes after a moment, deciding to relax and not think about her mysterious man. Judah was Judah—and he moved to a drummer that only he seemed to be able to hear.

  “WELL, LOOK AT YOU, making the doughnut run,” Bode Jenkins said as Judah loaded the groceries he’d grabbed onto the checkout counter. Bode glanced over his purchases. “Hungry wife?”

  Judah grunted. “Bode, mind your own business.”

  “Hey, that’s no way to talk to a neighbor.”

  Judah ignored the comment, paid his bill with cash and departed. Bode followed, trying to keep up with Judah’s long strides.

  “I mean to give you a wedding gift,” the older man stated, and Judah said, “Don’t bother.”

  “Callahan,” Bode said, his voice changing to a more insistent tone, “you really ought to be nicer to me.”

  “Why?” Judah asked. “Nice really isn’t my deal, but most especially not to you. And I don’t have time to chat this morning, Bode. If you have a complaint with me, lodge it with someone who cares.” He got in his truck, tossing the groceries on the seat next to him.

  Bode stood at the window. “Listen, I think I know who shot you.”

  Judah hesitated in the act of turning on the engine, surprised that Bode had brought up the shooting, and wondering if he should even bother to listen to anything the old man had to say. “If you think you know, why don’t you tell the sheriff?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather I tell you?”

  Judah scrubbed at his morning growth of beard, wishing he had a magic club he could beat Bode over the head with and make him disappear. “Jenkins, if you knew anything at all you’d be shouting it from the rooftops, not trying to keep me from my family when you can see I’m on a mission.” He started the truck. “To be honest, I don’t care who shot me. You can’t scare us off our land, Jenkins. Callahans don’t scare.”

  “It involves your aunt, and some other things I think you’d be interested in.”

  “All right,” Judah said, “spit it out so I can get home to my hungry wife and kids.”

  “Ask your aunt,” Bode advised, and Judah said, “What?”

  “Ask your aunt who likely shot you.”


  “Jump, Jenkins,” Judah said, “’cause this truck door’ll swing open in two seconds and knock you flat to the ground.”

  Bode jumped away from the vehicle and Judah drove off, swearing under his breath. He cursed colorfully, using words he rarely said, and told himself it was against the law to back up over an old man, even if Bode deserved it. Judah pressed the pedal down, peeling out of the parking lot, eager to get home. Never had he been more anxious to see his wife and children.

  DARLA HEARD JUDAH’S TRUCK roar up the drive, and was mentally ready when the front door blew open with a great sucking sound. “Shh,” she said, “the babies are asleep, Attila.”

  “Attila?” Judah handed her the bag of fruit. “Who’s he?”

  “He was a man who was always on a conquering mission. You’ve just about conquered my driveway and my door frames. I’m going to need to have everything Judah-proofed.”

  “Sorry,” he said, and she sighed.

  “You were going to start acting like a human being?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it takes a while.”

  “Hmm.” Darla went to the kitchen and got out plates. “Thank you for the fruit. It’s beautiful.”

  “Babies are beautiful.” Judah threw himself onto the sofa, looking rattled even for him, Darla thought. “Fruit is just appetizing. Or not.”

  She shook her head and cut the fruit into two bowls. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” He got up, went to her fridge. “Any beer in here?”

  Darla’s eyes widened. “At eight o’clock in the morning?”

  “Maybe just a fruit chaser.” He found a Dos and opened it gratefully.

  “That’s older than you want, like from a picnic last summer. How about some coffee instead?”

  “I’m jacked enough already.” He opened the beer and took a swig, made a face and sucked down another swig before pouring the rest down the drain. “That was just what the doctor ordered.”

  Darla shook her head and handed him a bowl of fruit. “Are you all right?”

  “Never been better,” Judah said, but Darla had the strangest feeling he wasn’t being honest.

  And it wasn’t the first time she’d felt this way.

  She heard a tiny cry from one of the babies, and set her bowl down.

  “I got it,” Judah said. “Eat.”

  She hung back in the kitchen as he’d told her to. It would be all right. Judah would call her if he needed help. No sound came from the other room. She chewed her fruit halfheartedly, listening, and when she still heard nothing, she peeked around the corner.

  Judah had both babies on his chest as he lounged on the sofa. He peered down one baby’s back, hooked a finger in her diaper and peeked. “Nothing there, Dad,” he said, talking for the baby, then hooked a finger in the second diaper. “Nothing here, either, Dad,” he said, still being a baby ventriloquist.

  Darla smiled and brought him his bowl. “What do you know about changing diapers?”

  “Just that it needs to happen often or everybody’s unhappy.” Judah smoothed a hand over tiny heads. “And I did a lot of babysitting in high school. Fiona was a big believer in us working whatever odd job came our way. Babysitting, wrangling, bush hogging. Didn’t matter. She said it was good for us to respect a buck.”

  Darla didn’t know where to put herself. She wanted to sit next to Judah, but something held her back. “If you’re good with the girls, would you mind if I grab a shower?”

  “Go. The babies and I are going to watch an educational flick.” He turned on her television, flipped channels with the remote and chose the movie download. “For our first foray into intelligentsia,” he told his daughters, “we’re going to examine the societal differences between Little Women and Gone with the Wind. I’ll expect spirited discussion during intermissions.”

  Darla laughed. “Oh, you’ll get spirited discussions, but they’ll all be concerning dinner.”

  “Switch out the lights, please. We must have the proper surroundings to begin the study of our topic of females in society.”

  “Okay,” Darla said. “By the way, your aunt will be here in thirty minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see,” Darla said with a smile, and left the room.

  “When you become literary bra burners,” Judah told his daughters, “please remind yourselves that men don’t like surprises.” He said it loudly enough for Darla to hear in the next room, and she rewarded him by saying, “Men like spice, girls. Never forget the spice.”

  And then Darla put tape on the final packed box in her room, sealing it and marking it “Darla and Judah’s bedroom.”

  We’ll see how well my husband handles surprises.

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Judah had just gotten comfortable watching Little Women when the door banged open.

  “We’re here!” Jonas called out. “Darla, we’re here!”

  “Hi,” Fiona said, poking her head into the living room. “What are you doing here, Judah?”

  His brothers and Burke piled in behind Fiona.

  “Have you guys ever heard of being quiet so as not to wake sleeping babies?” Judah said with a growl.

  “Not those two. They sleep like puppies.” Fiona came to kiss each great-niece on her downy head.

  “Anyway, what do you mean, what am I doing here?” Judah didn’t appreciate the inference that he might not be where his wife and daughters were.

  “Well,” Sam said, “we thought you’d be off doing something stupid, like trying to solve the universe’s problems. We’re trying to give you a surprise party.”

  “Party?” Judah raised a brow. “What kind of surprise party? I don’t like surprises.”

  “And yet it’s been one after another for the past several months. Good morning, girls,” Rafe said, touching a palm to each of his niece’s tufts. “Miss me?”

  “No, they don’t,” Judah said. “We are trying to have a literary discussion.”

  “Oh, your favorite movie.” Jonas laughed, and when Darla came into the living room he told her, “Judah always wanted to be Laurie.”

  “Didn’t happen, though,” Sam said. “Judah was never polite enough to be Laurie.”

  “True. He’s been a little on the crabby side lately.” Darla smiled, and Fiona said, “Are we ready?”

  “Everything is boxed up.” Darla took them back to her room, and Judah tried to spy down the hall to see what they were doing. He couldn’t move the two tiny bundles on his chest, however, because they were so warm and satisfied right where they were.

  “What’s happening?” he demanded as Burke went by with a wheeled dolly.

  “We’re moving your wife and girls to the ranch,” Jonas said. “Surprise!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Once they had Darla and Molly and Belle moved into the bunkhouse, Judah really did feel peace come over him. There were so many people coming and going all day long at Rancho Diablo that he knew his ladies were safe.

  Which meant it was time to talk to Fiona. He caught her heading to the basement, her favorite haunt besides the kitchen. “Whoa, frail aunt, let me carry those for you.”

  She sniffed and gave him the box of party lights she’d hung in June. “I’m not frail. You’re frail.”

  “In what way?”

  “You’re making your wife do all the heavy lifting.”

  He stared at Fiona as they made their way down the stairs. “What lifting?”

  “She’s making all the sacrifices.”

  It was true. “Not much I can do about that right now.”

  “You could take her on a honeymoon. Let me keep the babies.”

  He hesitated. “Uh, she’s breast-feeding.”

  “True, but trips aren’t planned in a week, nephew. Good ones, at least. There are logistics involved. And I’ll probably have to fight Mavis tooth and nail for baby time, so I want to get my request in first.”

  She sniffed again, and Judah said, “Catching a cold, Aunt?”

  “No.
I’m merely allergic to bone idleness.”

  “I suppose you have the name of a travel agency you prefer?” he asked with a sigh.

  “I do. But I refuse to pick a destination. You’ll have to ask Darla what she wants. I can’t do everything for you.”

  He smiled. “Thanks for thinking of it. I’d forgotten.”

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind.” She showed him where to shove the box, and pointed to another she wanted.

  “I thought you were going to have a monster garage sale and get rid of all this.”

  “I might, if we ever have to move. But right now, Sam’s doing a bang-up job. I’m only fifty percent worried these days. And Jonas has become quite the financial investor, something I was never aware of before. Guess he has to have something to do now that he’s not cracking open people’s chest cavities.”

  Judah winced. “Aunt, speaking of cracking things open…”

  “Oh, let’s don’t,” she said. “I hate to think of it. Only eggs should be cracked open.”

  His gaze slid to the dirt patch that was unlike the rest of the basement floor. They’d asked Fiona about it when they were younger, and gotten some water-seeping-in, covered-over-mold story. The boys had told each other ghost stories about the dead body in the basement, but these days, Judah wondered if he could dismiss any tale about his fey aunt.

  “What about safes? Safes get cracked open.”

  “No,” she said dismissively, “not unless one is a thief, and we have none of—” Her gaze met his, and then slid to the floor where he’d been looking. “Now, nephew,” Fiona said. “Don’t go odd on me just because you’re lacking sleep due to your darling daughters. In fact, you should go—”

  “Bode says I should ask you about who might have shot me,” Judah said quietly, and Fiona stared at him.

  “Bode’s a fool. Why would he say such a thing?”

  “You tell me.”

  She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Whose side are you on, Judah?”

  “Callahan side, ma’am,” he answered, “but why are there sides?”