The Rancher's Family--A Clean Romance

by Barbara White Daille

  Why had she spent so much time spinning fantasies about him based on nothing more than a provocative suggestion from one of Jed Garland’s assistant matchmakers? Cara didn’t want to imagine what Wes would think if he ever found out.

  She didn’t want to stand here watching him work. “I’ll take care of the salad,” she offered.

  “Fixings are in the fridge.”

  She kept her eyes focused on the cutting board, hoping he wouldn’t see the hot flush spreading across her face.

  When she put the salad bowl on the table and settled next to Mark, he said immediately, “Miss Cara, read me a story?”

  Her job waited upstairs. But no matter what else was going on, no matter how awkward she suddenly felt around Wes, she had to think of the kids. “Yes, I’ll read a story. After we clean up the dishes from dinner.”

  “And dessert,” he corrected. “What’s for dessert, Daddy?”

  “The ice cream we picked up from the Big Dipper this weekend. That’s for after you eat your supper.”

  Mark immediately reached for a French fry.

  “Did you see Lizzie while you were there?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Something going on? She wasn’t her usual talkative self.”

  Not today, either. At the store after school, she’d said only that her situation hadn’t changed. Despite Cara’s gentle encouragement, she still wanted to wait and see.

  Wes looked at her, expecting a response. Shrugging, she speared a few green beans with her fork. “Teenagers can be temperamental” was all she could think to say. Too late, she recalled Mo telling her the same about him.

  He shook his head. “Don’t I know it.” He turned his attention to his plate.

  Evidently eager to get to dessert or a story or both, Mark kept his focus on his food. Tracey played with her green beans.

  Cara gave another shrug—a mental one this time—and asked innocently, “You mean you were temperamental, too?”

  “That and other descriptions not appropriate for the family supper table.”

  She didn’t know which she liked more, his inclusion of her with his family or his willingness to talk about himself. “Somehow, I don’t get that picture of you.”

  “Talk to my brother. After our dad died, Garrett finished raising me, and I have to confess to giving him a hard time.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Teenage rebellion, I guess. Not wanting to be ordered around by anyone, especially not a brother only a few years older than me. Maybe not wanting to follow any rules at all.”

  “Have to follow the rules, Daddy,” Mark told him. “Miss Rhea says so.”

  “And she’s right, buddy. I hope you listen to her.”

  Mark nodded. “Yes.”

  “That’s good.”

  Wes tilted his head toward his son but made eye contact with Cara. “I just hope what goes around doesn’t come around. Even though it might be what I deserve.” As if the words made him uncomfortable, he abruptly reached for his plate and Mark’s.

  While he took care of dishing up dessert, she cleared the rest of the dishes, then carried bowls of ice cream to the table. As soon as she set Mark’s bowl in front of him, he grabbed his spoon and dug in.

  She smiled. “Mark, did you tell your daddy about your special day on Friday?”

  Immediately, he stilled, staring down at his bowl.

  “Mark?” Wes prompted. “Miss Cara asked you a question.”

  “That’s for mommies,” Mark said. “I don’t have a mo-mmy.” His voice cracked and his lip trembled and to her dismay he burst into tears.

  She turned, ready to wrap him in her arms.

  “I got this,” Wes snapped. He reached past her to lift Mark from the bench. He settled in his seat again. Perched Mark on his knee. Cleared his throat...twice.

  The seconds ticked away. She bit her lip to keep from speaking. Wes’s reaction to her instinctive response had unsettled her, but this nonreaction was so much worse. Mark was upset, and his daddy didn’t know what to say.

  Finally, Wes ruffled his son’s hair. “Hey, buddy, no need to worry. The special day at Miss Rhea’s is for mommies and daddies. Miss Rhea told us that. Remember?”

  “And daddies?” Mark’s voice shook.

  “Yes. And daddies. We talked about this the other day. Daddy told you he’s going to be there. Daddy’s always going to be here, because that’s what daddies do. You remember that now, too?”

  Blinking, Mark nodded.

  “Everything okay, then?”

  He nodded again.

  “Good.” Wes hugged him.

  “I want my ice cream.” Just that quickly, Mark’s voice had steadied, his problem was solved and he’d returned to putting his priorities in order.

  Why couldn’t everyone do all that so easily?

  Mark returned to being his usual cheerful self.

  Tracey, also as usual, babbled away. She hadn’t seemed to notice her brother’s tears.

  Wes stared silently at his son.

  And Cara couldn’t come up with a thing to say.

  While Mark finished his dessert, Wes smiled at him. “Hey, buddy, it will be time for baths and bed soon. If you want Miss Cara to read to you and Tracey, you’d better go pick out a couple of books.”

  Mark immediately climbed down from his bench.

  Cara picked up her dessert bowl.

  “About that episode earlier,” Wes said.

  She set the bowl down and sat back. “Mark was so upset and I just went on autopilot. Sorry for trying to jump in.”

  “He doesn’t usually cry over anything.” He made no comment regarding her apology.

  “Maybe he’s stressing about the recital.”

  “I doubt that.” He spoke calmly, yet the tiny pulse in his jaw hinted at strong emotion. “He’s not used to doing things without his mother around. I don’t know how much he still remembers about Patty. Maybe he knows he used to have a mommy and now he doesn’t. Or he knows there’s a hole in his life he didn’t have before.”

  And in yours. “He’s got a connection to her through his artwork.”

  “Yeah, but who can tell what goes through his mind when he does all that coloring. Maybe he doesn’t remember Patty at all, but coloring brings back the same happiness he felt when he was with her. If that’s the case, those memories are worth all the paper and crayons I can give him.”

  “I’m sure he misses her, and whatever memories he has are precious. Wes... This isn’t the same thing at all, and I’m not pretending it could be. But it might help. The kids might not miss their mother so much if they had more people in their lives. If—”

  “If only I’d get out more with them? Right. Jed’s always on me about that. So is his family and Sugar and Mo and almost everyone else I can name. And now you.” He grabbed Mark’s empty bowl and shot to his feet. “I hate to tell you, but taking the kids to a cookout or for ice cream or to the bowling alley isn’t going to bring their mother back to them.”

  “That’s not what I said. You’re not hearing—”

  “I am hearing. Loud and clear. People don’t trust I can do what’s best for my family.”

  “I didn’t mean that, and I don’t think anyone else does, either.”

  “Mark cried—which is not at all like him—and I choked. It happens. Becoming a parent doesn’t mean you have all the answers near at hand, all the time. If you had kids of your own, you’d know that.”

  Cara swallowed a cry. Wes couldn’t have any idea how much his comment hurt.

  He would never admit he hurt just as much.

  Mark came through the doorway, his arms filled with books.

  Grateful to end this conversation, she caught Wes’s attention and gestured toward the door.

  At the sight of his son with his armload of books, he
laughed. Though it sounded strained, she gave him an A for effort. She could barely manage to smile.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ON THE COUCH next to Cara, Mark sorted through the pile of books spilled across his lap. “Which story should we read first?” she asked.

  She couldn’t shake the memory of his tears. She watched him, his dark head bent over the books as he carefully considered each one. He seemed to have gotten over being upset.

  What about Wes?

  Though she hadn’t said what he’d claimed she had about Patty, he was right. Taking Mark and Tracey for treats wouldn’t bring their mother back. He was wrong about the rest, about people not trusting him. He couldn’t see that when it came to his kids, no one in Cowboy Creek put more pressure on him than he put on himself.

  Daddy’s always going to be here, because that’s what daddies do.

  A loving, beautiful promise from a man who loved and wanted to do all he could for his family.

  Andi had been so right when she’d told Cara Wes needed someone to talk to. She was glad he had confided in her about Mark and his drawing but sad to know he had regretted that so soon. She had read the change in his expression as clearly as she had seen the tears in Mark’s eyes.

  Maybe as they spent more time together, Wes would open up, confiding without later feeling sorry about sharing.

  Maybe she would, too.

  “Where’s Tracey?” Mark asked.

  “She’s still in the kitchen with your daddy, getting her hands and face washed.”

  As she spoke, Wes appeared holding his daughter. He leaned over the coffee table and plopped her onto the couch on Cara’s other side.

  When he took a seat in the chair across from them, her heart skipped a few beats. Considering the way he’d withdrawn after their conversation in the kitchen, she had never expected him to stay.

  He grabbed a magazine from the coffee table. “You got this covered?”

  I got this. Consoling Mark had been his job. It looked like reading to the kids tonight was hers. “I’m good.”

  “I want this, Miss Cara.”

  When she took the book from Mark, he gave her his sweet smile. Tracey shifted, snuggling against her and resting a hand on her stomach.

  Cara’s heart filled with happiness as she realized these two precious babies had come to mean so much to her.

  * * *

  “THAT’S ENOUGH READING for tonight,” Wes said to Mark. “It’s late. Time to get your pajamas ready for your bath.”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Mark slid from the edge of the couch. He headed toward the stairs off the living room, leaving Cara with the books.

  As she straightened the pile, she looked at her watch in surprise. She had read to the kids for nearly an hour. Well, to Mark, at least. In the last few minutes, Tracey, her thumb in her mouth, had fallen asleep slumped against Cara’s side.

  Wes rose from his chair. “I’ll carry her upstairs and tuck her in.”

  “I’ll do it. If we move her too much, she might wake up.” Carefully, she took the baby into her arms.

  Wes led the way upstairs to the kids’ room, which she had often seen on her trips down the hall to the office.

  Mark sat in front of a small dresser, playing with a couple of toy cars. Seeing him sitting on the floor reminded her of the day his daddy had landed on his rear while trying to help her with the sticking dresser drawer. The day she had first gotten a genuine laugh from Wes. The memory made her smile.

  Besides the small dresser and a twin bed, the room held a crib and a baby’s changing table. Cara settled Tracey in the crib.

  “Tracey needs jammies, Daddy,” Mark said.

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll take care of her in a minute. I’ll be right back. While I’m gone, you pick out a pair of your pajamas.”

  Mark nodded. “Okay, Daddy.”

  Cara scanned the border traveling around the walls, a wide strip decorated with horses and wagons and pint-size cowboys. “Guess your daughter’s going to grow up to be a cowgirl, like it or not, huh?”

  Wes smiled as they moved out into the hallway. “Well, I hope she’ll like horses, anyhow. She’s got her own room next door, and that’s more girly-girl, as Patty used to say.”

  That explained the door beside the kids’ room. Cara had never seen that one open.

  “Tracey hasn’t slept in there yet,” he said. He glanced back into the kids’ room. “Before Patty died, the baby was so young we were still keeping her in with us. A while after that, Mark went through a bad time waking up from nightmares. I moved Tracey in here with him, hoping the company would help.”

  “Did it?”

  “It seemed to. From then on, he settled down again. We haven’t had any other issues, except for that crying earlier tonight.”

  Mark waved a pajama top and bottom in either hand. “I picked my jammies, Daddy.”

  “Okay, pardner, let’s get this show on the road. Say good-night to Miss Cara.” He turned to her. “You won’t mind finding your own way out?”

  “Of course not.”

  Mark flung his arms around her legs in a hug. “Good night, Miss Cara. See you tomorra, right?”

  “Good night, Mark. Yes, you’ll see me then.”

  Wes and Mark headed in the direction of the bathroom. She lingered in the doorway of the kids’ room.

  Tracey still lay sound asleep with her thumb resting against one cheek, as if she was keeping it close by in case she needed it.

  Cara took a deep breath, waiting for an if-only to bring her to tears.

  Nothing hit her but the reminder that if-onlys came from the past and she needed to think about now. About moving forward. About tomorra.

  * * *

  CARA’S WEEK QUICKLY settled into a routine. After breakfast, she drove to town, where she spent her time at the store talking to some of the local women about their crafts, sketching a floor plan and taking measurements for the shelving units and display tables Andi intended to buy.

  She made a point of being there when Lizzie arrived after school every afternoon. While she again seemed as chatty and energetic as ever, dark circles had begun pooling beneath her eyes, and she avoided talking about what Cara most wanted to discuss. She hoped Lizzie would come in one day and either confirm she wasn’t pregnant, after all, or say she had made an appointment to see a doctor. Meanwhile, all Cara could do was be there for her.

  And every afternoon, Cara made the trip to Rhea’s to pick up the kids, then spent most of the evening working at Wes’s house.

  Once in a while, she felt guilty about not spending more time at the Hitching Post, but Andi assured her everyone there was busy prepping for the hotel’s upcoming wedding.

  On Thursday, she stopped by SugarPie’s for a late lunch. As usual, the owner of the sandwich shop and bakery greeted her warmly. She followed Cara to a table to take her order. “Y’all going to get that store open any time soon?”

  “As soon as we can.”

  “Good. Anything that brings in new customers will be a benefit for everyone in Cowboy Creek.”

  As Sugar returned to the kitchen, Mo O’Neill arrived and joined Cara at her table. “I hear you’re getting interest from the knitting circle members Andi talked to last week.”

  “Lots of interest. Judging by the women I’ve spoken to so far, Andi is going to have plenty of stock for the store. I only hope she’ll have lots of customers, too.”

  “That seems promising, considering the talk at the town council meeting. Once construction for the new exit begins, they plan to set up a detour temporarily. Traffic will come right down Canyon Road.”

  “That is good news. I’ll tell Andi when I get back to the hotel...later today.”

  “This evening, once you return after your supper, will be time enough.” Mo’s eyes positively twinkled.

  Cara bare
ly kept from sighing aloud. Obviously, Mo knew about her evenings with Wes and his kids. But unless she had psychic abilities, even she couldn’t know whether or not Cara would be staying for dinner tonight.

  That was a given, though. After all, she had been invited to dinner, now followed by story time, every night this week. The thought of taking “her” place at Wes’s table again sent a few tingles racing along every nerve.

  Right now, she had to stop thinking about Wes and deal with this conversation. Hearing Mo comment on the blush now heating her cheeks would be worse than seeing the woman’s all-knowing eyes twinkle. Cara needed a diversion, a topic other than where she spent her evenings.

  She needed an answer to a question that had troubled her for days. A question she wasn’t comfortable asking Wes or even Andi. “Mo,” she blurted, “why does Wes’s brother work on Jed’s ranch instead of with him?”

  “Ah. I wondered if you’d considered that. You remember the other day, I mentioned Garrett’s lightness of heart?”

  Cara nodded.

  “He’s too much of a free spirit to tie himself to anything—to property or a family or even to a single woman. Not like Wes. Surprisingly, of the two boys, Wes became the one to settle down.”

  “And the one with all the responsibility for his family’s ranch.”

  “That’s very true, and something no one knows much about. How it all came to happen is between them, which might be where it will always stay.”

  “Everything must have been so much easier for Wes when his wife was alive. Now he’s single-handedly taking care of the ranch and his kids. He can’t manage all that on his own.”

  Lips pursed, Mo stared thoughtfully across the table at her.

  Cara focused on lining up her silverware on her napkin. Even that reminded her of Mark and Tracey and Wes. Her life was slowly becoming intertwined with theirs—not a good thing when she knew she had to leave.

  She did plan to go home. When she was done helping Andi... After she found an apartment... Once she had a job lined up...

  Cara had enough on her own agenda to worry about. It wasn’t up to her to determine what Wes could and couldn’t handle. Still, she couldn’t keep from worrying about him, too.