Chapter Four

      Gabe knocked on the weather-beaten door of Harley Jones’s small cottage on the west side of his ranch Friday morning. It was early, but Harley was an early riser like himself. The old man would be glad for the pot of hearty food, and Gabe liked to check in frequently on the widower’s deteriorating health. “Harley?”

      The sound of shuffling came from the other side of the door. “Hold your horses, I’m a’comin’.”

      The door creaked open, and Gabe made a mental note to bring oil on his next visit. Harley was trying to hold the place together on his own, but he needed help.

      “Gabe.” Harley pulled open the door, then hobbled on his cane back inside to the cabin’s meager kitchen. “The league meeting’s not today, is it?”

      “Not today, Harley. I just thought you might help me finish off some of Marlene’s good stew. She always makes enough to feed an army, and now with our—” Gabe groped for some way to describe Avery and her daughters’ descent upon his quiet household “—houseguests, she’s making even more.”

      He opened Harley’s fridge, scanning the near-empty appliance as he settled the casserole dish Marlene had sent. Harley wasn’t eating nearly as well as he should. Gabe made a note to visit again soon with some groceries. The pretense of escaping the noisy state of the ranch house would work well for everyone.

      Not that he needed any incentive to visit Harley. Even as a young man on his stepfather’s ranch—back when things were still tight, before Gabe stepped in as owner and made Five Rocks the prosperous ranch it was today—Gabe loved to spend time with Harley at this cabin. Leon, the last of Gabe’s two stepfathers, had been a hard man who’d grown harder when Gabe’s mother died.

      Gabe warmed at the welcome sound of Harley putting on coffee—the old-fashioned way, in a blue enamel pot on a stove burner, never one of those “newfangled electric gizmos.” Most of the happy memories Gabe had of his time on this ranch were his afternoons with Harley. Five Rocks wouldn’t be Five Rocks without Harley Jones puttering around, even if he’d stopped doing any real work on the ranch years ago.

      “Houseguests?” Harley had reason to look surprised. There hadn’t been a houseguest at Five Rocks for years. “Who you got staying at the ranch?”

      Gabe mused at his own reluctance to own up to what he’d done. “Tiny pink things.” He’d found markers on his study desk this morning. Actually, he’d found marker drawings on his study desk blotter, too. A great big pink blob he suspected was supposed to be a heart. Or an elephant. Or a flower—it was tough to tell.

      Harley turned toward him, cupping a hand to one ear. “Come again? You got piglets up at the house?”

      Now Gabe laughed outright. “Not piglets. Little girls. Two little four-year-old girls and their mother. They’re staying with us since Roz Sackett wasn’t much for the noise and they need to stay in Haven.”

      “You took in little girls?” Harley shook his head. “That’s a first. No wonder you’re knocking on my door so early.” Harley got two cups down from his cupboard. “Ain’t nowhere for them to stay in town? Really?”

      “The Blue Bonnet’s full up with some women’s thing and we need Avery Culpepper and her girls to be present at the anniversary celebration.”

      “Culpepper? More kin of Cyrus’s, you mean?”

      Gabe remembered that Harley’s health had forced him to miss the last several Lone Star Cowboy League meetings—the old man knew nothing of the soap opera that had played out in the last few months. “His real long lost granddaughter, to be exact.”

      “I thought you said she showed up last month.”

      “Yes and no.” Gabe reached for a simple way to recount the crazy turn of events. “Turns out that Avery Culpepper wasn’t the real Avery Culpepper, but a gold digger out to grab Cyrus’s estate.”

      “No kidding? Sounds just like ol’ Cyrus to be stirring up trouble even from his grave.” He pointed a bony finger at Gabe. “So you got the real Avery—and her daughters, no less—living with you down at the big house?” Harley began to laugh but it dissolved into a hacking cough that had the old man reaching for his handkerchief and sitting for a spell. “How’s that working out?” he snickered in between wheezes.

      Gabe felt himself smile. “I’m here before you put the coffee on. What do you think?”

      Harley shook his head and dabbed his eyes. “You’re a good man, Gabe. A bit crazy from the sound of it, but a good man.” He made to rise as the coffeepot boiled, but Gabe stopped and got up himself so that Harley could sit and recover his breath. “The funeral was months ago. Why’s she here now and not then?” Harley asked.

      “Cyrus made his granddaughter’s presence one of the crazy requirements in his will. You remember—we’ve got to have her here to deed his land and house to the boys ranch. We just found her. The real her, I mean.”

      “Requirements? There’s more than that one?”

      Harley must be the only person in Haven unaware of Cyrus Culpepper’s wild scheme. Gabe must have told him about the Avery bit, but forgot to mention the other requirement of finding the ranch’s original residents. Probably because the hunt for those three old men was making him crazy lately. “Nothing you need to worry about, Harley. We got it covered.”

      “Good place, the boys ranch.” The words sputtered out between raspy hacks that left Harley reaching for his coffee. “You know that. Cyrus knew it, too. What a fool notion to play games with a good cause like that.”

      “I know. But the boys ranch will lose the best thing to happen to it in years if we don’t play along. So we’re playing along.” Gabe put his hand on Harley’s arm, disturbed to feel it tremble under his palm. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll take care of it. You know me, I don’t ever give up.”

      Harley looked up. “Never did.”

      “And I won’t now.” Gabe checked his watch, not wanting to bother the old man any further with the weight of his problems. “I’ve got to run by the sheriff’s office and pick up some supplies at the store before I get back for lunch. I’ll get some oil for that door while I’m out. You take care of yourself and I’ll come out in a day or so to fix those hinges.”

      “Sure.” Harley looked lost in thought. The old man really was declining, and way too fast for Gabe’s liking.

      “Thanks for the coffee. See you later, Harley. I’ll see myself out.”

      “Sure.”

      Gabe pulled the squeaking door shut behind him. Harley wasn’t doing well. Another problem to add to the growing mountain of challenges around him these days.

      * * *

      Avery was sitting on the porch emailing furniture websites to a client—she’d found quite a few ways to keep business going remotely once she put her mind to it—when Gabe pulled up. He hauled a pair of large boxes out of the back of his truck. “What’s that?”

      “Those,” Gabe said with a sheepish smile