Twins For The Texas Rancher. Marin Thomas
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“What do you think, Tyler?” The boy hadn’t spoken since he and his brother arrived at the ranch with their mother and Amelia fifteen minutes ago. Logan had returned from delivering hay to the cattle just in time to entertain the twins while Gramps and the women gathered in the kitchen to discuss Amelia’s latest wacky idea.
Tyler remained silent and he didn’t press the boy to speak. Logan had been drawn to the brothers the moment he’d met them. He’d always anticipated being a dad, but fatherhood wasn’t in the cards for him. When he’d had to quit rodeoing and returned home to run the ranch, he’d missed interacting with the children who traveled the circuit with their fathers.
Logan didn’t badger Tyler into talking. Instead he asked, “Who wants to feed Sweet Pea a carrot?”
Tommy walked off and climbed onto the hay bales in the corner. Logan looked at Tyler, whose gaze remained on the horse. After a few seconds he said, “She looks sad.”
Startled, he studied the mare. “You’re probably right. A few weeks ago her best friend went away.” Ranger had been twenty-eight and had developed a tumor that put pressure on his heart. The vet had had to put him down.
Tyler’s brows scrunched in concentration. “Is her friend gonna come back?”
“No, he isn’t.” A sliver of guilt pricked Logan. He should pay more attention to the mare, but when did he have time? He was the only one who did any work around the ranch. Gunner was busy running the motel and fixing up Emmylou Schmidt’s downtown antiques shop, which Amelia had purchased for Lydia as a wedding gift. They’d converted the lower floor into an office for Lydia’s interior design business and were turning the upper floor into an apartment.
That left his middle brother to help Logan, and Reid sure in heck wasn’t going to leave New Mexico to muck stalls. The thousand dollars Reid sent to their grandfather every month was guilt money, but Logan couldn’t figure out what his brother had to feel remorseful about.
“I think Sweet Pea could use a friend,” Logan said.
Tyler’s blue eyes blinked at Logan. “I can be her friend.”
“How about you climb up that ladder—” Logan pointed across the aisle “—and I’ll bring Sweet Pea out of her stall so you can rub her nose. She likes that.”
Logan checked to make sure Tommy wasn’t getting into trouble at the back of the barn, then he set Tyler on the ladder. “Sit back so your butt sticks through the opening.” Tyler obeyed. “Are you wedged in there nice and tight?” Another nod. “Don’t move.”
Logan walked Sweet Pea out of her stall and brought her to stand before Tyler. “Touch her like this.” Logan stroked the mare’s nose.
When Tyler rubbed Sweet Pea’s face, the horse snuffled the front of the kid’s shirt. “She’s soft.”
“Can I have a turn?” Tommy tugged on the back pocket of Logan’s jeans.
“Wait over there until I tell you to come closer.” He didn’t want the boy to get kicked by a horse, or to have to explain to Sadie how he’d let it happen.
Tyler leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Sweet Pea’s neck, resting his cheek against her face. The tender scene yanked Logan’s heartstrings.
“Do you boys have any pets at home?” he asked.
“Mom says we can’t have a dog,” Tommy answered. “’Cause she’s gotta work and it costs a lot of money.”
Logan and his brothers had grown up with dogs, barn cats, horses, chickens and even a pet raccoon that took up residence beneath the shed behind the house. Their last hound dog, Blue, had died several years ago, and when Logan had asked his grandfather if he wanted to get another dog from the shelter, the old man had declined, arguing that he wouldn’t be around long enough to take care of the mutt.
Gramps acted as if death was knocking at his door, but Gunner believed their grandfather was too ornery to ever die. When Amelia Rinehart had begun her campaign to resurrect Stampede, Logan and his brother had seen a change in their grandfather. He was still a grumpy old man, but he had more get-up-and-go and was determined to contest the older woman in all manner of ways.
Tommy patted Logan’s leg. “Is it my turn?”
Logan set Tyler on the ground behind him, then lifted Tommy into his arms and held him by Sweet Pea’s head. After petting the horse twice, the boy said, “I’m bored.”
Logan placed Tommy on his feet and returned the mare to her stall. “I promised Tyler he could read in the hayloft.” Logan nodded to the ladder. “When you reach the top, keep away from the edge.”
“I wanna see the hayloft,” Tommy said.
Logan followed the boys up the ladder.
Tommy walked around the space. “How come it’s full of hay?”
“The hay is for the horses and the cattle to eat.” Logan pulled the string hanging from a naked lightbulb. “Do you think this is a cool place to read, Tyler?”
The boy nodded.
“What else can we do up here?” Tommy asked.
“Not much, I’m afraid. While Tyler reads, you can help me muck stalls.” Tyler stared at the bales Logan had stacked in the shape of a giant chair. “You want me to toss your backpack up here?” Logan asked.
Tyler nodded.
Logan helped Tommy down the ladder, then walked to the barn entrance, where the boys had tossed their backpacks aside. He grabbed the one with the image of the dog on the front. “Stand back so you don’t get hit.” Logan flung the bag into the loft. “Holler when you’re ready to come down and I’ll help you.” Logan had fond memories of playing in the hayloft as a kid. As soon as he and his brothers were old enough to climb the ladder, their grandfather had let them hang out in the barn while he’d taken care of the horses.
“How do you muck stalls?” Tommy asked.
“You’ll see.” The boy dogged Logan’s heels as they left the barn. “First, you’re going to sit on the corral rail and watch me bring the horses out.” He plopped Tommy down. “After that we take the wheelbarrow and—”
“What’s a wheelbarrow?”
“You’ll see.” The only way to spare himself the twenty-question game was to tire the kid out, but Logan knew from personal experience that boys like Tommy were never tired out.
* * *
THIS WAS NOT how Sadie anticipated spending her first day in Stampede. She and her aunt sat at Emmett’s kitchen table while he stood at the counter with his back to them, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing—obviously not happy at having to play host to an afternoon coffee klatch.
At eighty-five, Emmett was the same age as Sadie’s aunt, but he looked older. His shoulders sloped toward the ground as if life’s problems had piled on year after year, weighing him down. Decades of ranching had etched deep crevices across the back of his neck and marked his arms with scaly sunspots.
Sadie surreptitiously studied her aunt. Blue veins crisscrossed the back of her hands, but unlike Emmett’s leathery skin, Amelia’s appeared pearlescent beneath the box light in the ceiling.
During the drive to Paradise Ranch, Aunt Amelia had rambled on about how developers had built single-family-home subdivisions north of the towns of Mesquite and Rocky Point. Stampede was too far away for those families to shop. And with a population that had never exceeded three thousand—even in its heyday—the dusty hidey-hole needed to find a way to survive or it would become nothing more than a ghost town. Which, apparently, was exactly what the old-timers who’d elected Emmett mayor wanted. When Sadie had asked why her aunt hadn’t sought someone else’s help to carry out her plans, she’d grown misty-eyed and said she was trying to involve Emmett because he’d been in a funk for such