Her Twins' Cowboy Dad. Patricia Johns

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Her Twins' Cowboy Dad - Patricia Johns


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pasture on either side of the highway rolled out in low, green hills. Cattle grazed, tails flicking, and Colt’s practiced gaze estimated that the calves were already triple in size from when they were born. As he drove, he kept an eye on the strip of barbed wire fencing, looking for holes or weak areas. He’d always done this, but today, it felt like an honor instead of just the smart thing to do. This was his land now. He was still wrapping his mind around that.

      Colt glanced back at her car in the rearview mirror. Jane was still there, pacing him as they sped down the cracked highway. He’d wanted this—not his uncle’s death, but definitely a chance at running his own ranch. Beau had promised to leave him the ranch for years—reiterating it every time he ranted about his son’s life choices—but Colt had always imagined butting heads with the old guy for a good many years longer than this. Beau’s fatal stroke had taken everyone by surprise. Colt might have worked this land, but Beau had built it up from a few scrubby acres into the viable ranch it was today. Viable, and underwater with a second mortgage. His uncle had been open with him about the financial situation, at least, if not about his plans for his will. Hopefully Beau hadn’t been hiding anything else.

      Strange to think that Beau had put so much thought into reconciling him and Josh, though. Why not reconnect with his son himself? But Colt could appreciate that Josh’s daughters would benefit by the will. It might complicate Colt’s life right now, but it had been the right thing to do.

      The Marshall ranch was about half an hour’s drive outside Creekside. He had driven a little slower than usual to make sure that Jane could keep up with him, and as the turn came up for the ranch, he slowed and signaled.

      The drive wound around a copse of trees and led to the single-story ranch house. It was painted white, with a traditional wraparound veranda. There was a strip of basement windows showing—and those were the windows that let some light into Colt’s part of the house. He parked in his regular spot beside Beau’s black truck, and Jane pulled up next to him. As he hopped out of the truck, Jane’s car door opened, too, and she got out of the car and looked around herself.

      “Wow,” she breathed. “This is gorgeous.”

      He followed her gaze. The front yard had a couple of ancient birch trees towering overhead, providing sun-dappled shade in the July sunlight, and beyond were the fields that stretched out in undulating hills, warmed by the summer sunshine. A sheet of sparrows flapped up from a copse of trees in the distance, billowed, then landed again.

      “It’s a beautiful area,” he agreed.

      Jane opened the back door of her car and disappeared inside as she unbuckled the toddlers. Some local ladies had dropped off some casseroles for him, so he had food to feed her, at least. He wasn’t sure how much tuna casserole a toddler would consume, but he’d leave the problem up to Jane. She was best equipped to handle it anyway.

      The side door to the house opened and Aunt Peg, as she preferred to be called, poked her curly iron-gray head out.

      “You’re back. And you brought company, I see,” Peg said. She always sounded no-nonsense, and it was hard to tell if she was approving or not, much like her brother had been.

      “Yep, this is Josh’s wife, Jane,” Colt said. “And his little girls.”

      Peg blinked at him, straightened and then stepped outside, letting the screen door bang shut behind her.

      “Josh’s family?” Peg said, her voice tight. “Really?”

      Peg wore a flour-powdered apron over a ’70s-style housedress, and she came closer, peering into the car until Jane emerged with one of the toddlers. She put the girl down and shot Peg a smile.

      “Hi, I’m Jane.”

      “Pleasure.” Peg have her a nod.

      “She’s here for a week or so while we iron out an inheritance issue,” Colt said. “She’ll stay upstairs with you, if you don’t mind.”

      “We’ll work something out.” Peg pressed her lips together into a thin line. “What’s the issue with the will?”

      “Beau left me the land, and he left the cattle to Jane’s daughters,” Colt said. “So Jane is going to stay with us while we get that ironed out. I need to buy the cattle back.”

      A smile of amusement tickled the corners of Peg’s lips. “You’d almost think he was trying to get you married off, wouldn’t you?”

      To his cousin’s widow? Not likely. Josh’s estrangement from the family had been an endless source of upset around here, and Colt highly doubted that his uncle would have wanted that. It might not have been logical because Josh got married a few years after he left home, but Beau blamed “the wife” as much as anyone else for his son’s refusal to talk to him. Anything but admit it was his own fault.

      “It had a whole lot less to do with me, and more to do with wanting to fix things with Josh,” Colt replied. Besides, Colt wasn’t interested in marriage, and Beau had known why.

      Jane emerged from the car with the second toddler, and she slammed the door shut.

      “Well...these would be my great-nieces, then,” Peg said, softening immediately. “Do they ever look like their father.”

      They did, and if Josh hadn’t been killed, he would have loved being a dad. He’d always had that gentle-giant quality about him, and with his jovial sense of humor, Colt could see him sliding easily into being a family man.

      Aunt Peg scooped up one of the toddlers in her arms, looking the girl over from head to toes.

      “That’s Micha,” Jane said. “This here is Suzie.”

      “We might as well go inside,” Peg said. “I cleaned up the kitchen, Colt. You’re welcome.”

      Colt had started to expand a little bit in the house—and he’d made his breakfast upstairs in Beau’s place. He’d left some oatmeal out for Peg. Maybe it would be best to keep to his own space until Peg went back home.

      “Sorry about that,” he said with a short laugh. He hadn’t left it in a mess or anything.

      Colt followed the women into the house, letting the screen door bang shut behind him. The house felt different with Beau gone. The kitchen was as it always had been—just the way Beau’s late wife, Sandra, had kept it. She’d been a good cook, unlike Peg, who never did get the touch.

      “Aunt Peg, I asked Jane if she’d give you a hand with emptying out the house,” Colt said.

      “Did you think of asking me what I thought of that?” Peg retorted. She put down the toddler, who beelined back to Jane.

      “It’s my house now, Peg,” he said, but he sent his aunt a tired smile to show her he wasn’t taking it to heart. “I figured it might help. If you’d rather do it alone, I mean—”

      “No, no,” Peg said, sadness filling her eyes. She pulled a dish of what appeared to be apple crisp off the counter and deposited it onto the table along with a serving spoon. “I don’t want to do it alone. Besides...” She looked down at the toddlers. “There’s family to get acquainted with, isn’t there?”

      “I didn’t know Beau,” Jane said quietly. “But he did remember my girls in his will, and I’m grateful for that.”

      “Did Josh talk about us?” Peg asked.

      “A little,” Jane replied.

      “Did he mention why he left and never wanted to come back?” Peg asked, and Colt felt his chest constrict. Did they have to do this—with a relative stranger? He, for one, didn’t want to talk about it.

      Color rose in Jane’s cheeks, but she didn’t answer.

      “Ah, so he did,” Peg went on, then sighed. “Beau wasn’t as bad as he seemed, my dear. We’re all just human.”

      Colt couldn’t help but feel like he’d been the one to


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