The Rancher's Texas Twins Page 3

  “Everything’s so pink, Mama!” Dinah called, arms and legs flailing in little girl delight.

  Marlene chuckled. “What little girl doesn’t love pink?” She gave Avery a knowing look. “You’ve got your hands full, bless your heart.”

  If I had a dime for every time I heard that, Avery thought. She did hear it all the time. Everyone always said it back in Tennessee, but folks rarely lent a hand to help with the twins. Avery sighed. “I do indeed. I’m sorry for the racket.”

  “Don’t you be one bit sorry. Five Rocks is a big and beautiful place, but I’ve always found it far too quiet. Oh, I know Gabriel says he likes his peace and order, but I think it’ll be nice to have some happy noise around for a change,” Marlene said as she walked into the room. “Now,” she said, pointing to one girl, “are you Dinah or are you Debbie? I’m gonna have trouble keeping you two straight.”

  Any version of the “who’s who?” game sent Debbie into peals of laughter. “I’m Debbie,” she said, rolling over to grin at Marlene and point at her dark hair.

  “Well, I’m glad for that hair,” Marlene said as she eased herself onto Debbie’s bed. “I need all the hints I can get. Tell me, Debbie, are you ready for lunch? I have bologna sandwiches cut out into heart shapes with carrots and sweet, juicy peaches.”

  “Dinah’s a notoriously picky eater,” Avery offered from the doorway, hoping to spare dear Mrs. Frank one of Dinah’s all-too-frequent mealtime tantrums.

  “Oh, that don’t scare me none. I raised three sons and five grandchildren. I’ve seen it all.” She winked at Avery. “This grandma’s got a few tricks up her sleeve.”

  Avery couldn’t help herself. “Use any on Gabe?”

  Marlene gave a hearty laugh. “Don’t tell. It works best if we let him think he’s in charge.”

  “That’s because I am.” Gabe’s voice came from the hallway behind Avery. His dark eyebrows furrowed down over the man’s astonishingly blue eyes as he peered into the room. “Where’d all this come from?”

  “Rhetta’s twins outgrew their beds last year. Jethro went over and borrowed them early this morning.”

  “It’s a whole lot of princess pink!” Dinah called with glee.

  “I’ll say,” Gabe said, wincing. “My teeth hurt just looking at it.”

  “Girls, you should say thank you to...” Avery stopped, realizing she wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence. “What do you want them to call you?”

  It seemed like a land mine of a question. Gabriel Everett was an imposing figure of a man. Tall and dark-haired with strong, solid features, he certainly wasn’t the “Uncle Gabe” type. Not even “Mr. Gabe.” Still, Mr. Everett sounded like a mouthful for a four-year-old.

  “Do they have to call me anything?” Gabe seemed to find the question just as daunting.

  “Well, of course they do,” Marlene said.

  Gabe gave a bit of a twitch, as if he’d just realized housing the girls was going to mean he’d have to actually talk to them on occasion. Avery would have classified his behavior yesterday as an awkward tolerance—or perhaps it was more of a cornered surrender, now that she thought about it. The discomfort seemed to grow larger as Gabe scratched his chin and considered how the girls should address him. “Mr. Everett?” he offered halfheartedly, as if he couldn’t come up with anything better.

  Avery was afraid he’d say that. She really didn’t think she could refuse, so she was especially glad when Marlene countered, “Don’t you think that’s a bit formal for someone their age?” The housekeeper shot a disapproving look Gabe’s way.

  Avery was wracking her brains for a suitable moniker when Debbie bounced off the bed and walked right up to Gabe with the air of a woman in possession of the solution. “Boots,” she declared, pointing to Gabe’s large brown cowboy boots.

  Gabe looked around, waiting for someone to pronounce what a bad idea that was.

  “You can be Mr. Boots!” Debbie said again, this time squatting down to pat her hand up against the dusty leather.

  Dinah, not to be outdone, slid off her bed and began to chant “Mr. Boots” while pointing at Gabe’s other leg. Poor Gabe, he’d been christened against his will now; once the girls latched on to something like this, they rarely let go.

  “Could have been worse,” Marlene offered with a grin that broadcast just how much she was enjoying this. “They might have picked ‘Mr. Scowl.’”

  Avery felt like she had to at least try. “Don’t you think you girls could learn to say ‘Mr. Everett’?”

  In reply, the girls only chanted “Mr. Boots!” louder.

  “Um, I’ll try to keep that down to a minimum,” she said above the noise as the girls began to circle around Gabe’s legs like little pink cats, patting Gabe’s boots while he stood there in mild shock and not-so-mild annoyance.

  Avery was composing a suitable apology when Gabe just seemed to shrug and resign himself to the new nickname. “I’ve been called worse.”

  The man was huge and intimidating—she didn’t doubt he’d been called a great deal of things. Only right now, she called him her host, and that deserved whatever kindness she could provide. “If it helps, I promise I’ll never use it.” It seemed slim consolation to a man whose spare bedroom had just been transformed into a tidal wave of pink gingham.

  Gabe stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’d be much obliged for that.”

  “Well, I’m making no such promises,” Marlene offered with a wink and a grin. “I rather like ‘Mr. Boots.’”

  Gabe gave her a dark look and carefully extracted his long legs from the girls’ endless circles. “I’ve got to return a couple of calls, ladies. Marlene, how long before lunch?”

  “We were just discussing lunch now. It’ll be ready in twenty minutes. So no cookies.” Marlene slanted a sideways glance at Avery. “That man always sneaks food into his office.”

  “Too late!” Gabe called, and Avery caught sight of the man producing a stack of cookies from his shirt pocket and waving them in the air like a schoolboy who’d just gotten away with a prank. Clearly, Marlene and Gabe one-upped each other on a continual basis.

  Such behavior didn’t fit the domineering, driven Gabriel Everett she’d met on her first day in Haven. That man was bent on getting what he needed, pressing for her compliance, pushing hard for whatever it took to secure the boys ranch. His own ranch was huge and clearly prosperous—those sorts of businessmen didn’t sneak cookies or open their homes to little girls.

  Of course, Gabe Everett had opened his home because he needed something from her—she knew that. He hosted to keep her from leaving because he needed her here for the celebration. Cyrus’s will stipulated that she, as well as the three other original residents of the Lone Star Cowboy League Boys Ranch, had to be present on March 20. If not, the property left to the ranch would be sold to a strip mall, which would send half the ranch’s current residents elsewhere. Well, she told herself as she led Dinah and Debbie to the bathroom to wash up for lunch, if I’m going to be stuck between a rock and a hard place, at least the hard place is looking nicer every minute.

  Chapter Three

  “I hate him, you know.”

  Gabe looked at Avery later that evening as she stood on the porch watching the stars come out. Jethro had taken the girls inside to read them one of his cowboy stories—Jethro had written down stories for as long as Gabe could remember, and was taking full advantage of his tiny new audience. The quiet of the falling dusk was as thick as a blanket after the commotion of moving-in day. Gabe felt like he could exhale for the first time since that wild meeting on Roz’s porch.

  “Who?” Gabe replied. He had a notion who she meant, since she’d just refused a tour of the ranch—her grandfather’s home—but felt he ought to ask anyway.

  “Grandpa Cyrus. Well, Cyrus Culpepper to all of you.
Even before I knew who he was, I hated him.”

  Between the imposter Avery and the real Avery, Gabe was having trouble keeping his Cyrus stories straight. “I thought you never knew Cyrus.” Of course, Gabe knew knowing didn’t really come into a situation like this—he, of all people, knew how easy it was to hate someone you’d barely known. In fact, it was almost easier to hate the idea of someone than to hate an actual person. He resented his own grandfather deeply for abandoning him at a young age; it wasn’t hard to believe Avery felt the same.

  “Daddy would always say that if things went bad, Grandpa would come and save us. ‘Grandpa will do this’ and ‘Grandpa will do that.’” She turned to look at Gabe, pain filling her eyes. “I know I was only six, but I remember the promises. And I waited. After Daddy died, I waited in one foster home after another. Only Grandpa never came. Never. That man never did a single thing to help me.” Her words were sharp and bitter.

  “You’re sure? I mean, he could have been trying.” Gabe remembered harboring the silly hope that somehow his own grandfather had tried valiantly to get in touch with Mom. He made up all kinds of reasons how their many moves had stumped Grandpa Theo’s efforts. After a while, the hard truth of his abandonment won out over the optimism of such stories. Gabe knew what a hollow space that left.

  Avery turned to look at him. “That’d make a nice story, wouldn’t it? Only no. The foster service tried multiple times to find him and reach him. They had contact information for him. No one ever answered.” She hugged herself, shoulders bunching up. A sore point to be sure, and who could blame her?

  “That must have been hard,” Gabe offered.

  She didn’t answer, simply nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried again, even though it felt intrusive and inadequate. Gabe was all too familiar with how rejection brewed a slow, sour kind of pain, one that was deep and hard to shake. “I think maybe Cyrus regretted it in the end, if that helps.”

  She gave a lifeless laugh. “It doesn’t.”

  Gabe walked over beside her, putting one boot up on the lower rung of the porch rail. It made him think of the chorus of “Mr. Boots!” he’d heard all afternoon, and he felt the surprise of a smile curl up the corners of his mouth. “It’s why the boys ranch is so important, you know.”

  “The bumper crop of lousy parents in the world?”

  It was becoming clear that Avery Culpepper rarely minced words. In that way, she was a lot like her grandfather—not that he’d be foolish enough to point that out at the moment. “Sure, some parents are lousy,” Gabe replied. “Some are just gone. And some just plain don’t have it in them. More helpless than mean.”

  “No one has the right to abandon a child. I’d bleed to the last drop before I’d walk away from my girls.” She didn’t say “like their father did,” but Gabe felt it hang in the air just the same.

  “That’s the way it should be. Only it doesn’t always happen that way, does it? The kids at the ranch did nothing wrong—well, some of them have acted out in bad ways, but you know what I mean. They didn’t set their lives up badly, but things haven’t worked out for them just the same. And that’s not fair.”

  “I suppose not. I never felt much of life was fair, to tell you the truth.”

  “It isn’t. That’s what keeps me working for the boys ranch. Every boy we house and counsel is one less man who grows up hauling a ball of hate around.” Even as he spoke the words, Gabe wondered if he really believed them. After all, he’d been a resident at the ranch some twenty-odd years ago, and the ball of hate was still following him around like a lead shadow.

  Avery leaned up against the thick porch column, her arms still wrapped around her chest. “I didn’t ask to be the only thing saving the Culpepper land from becoming a strip mall. I can’t say for certain that I can stay all the way until the twentieth.”

  “I understand you need to do what’s best for you and your girls. But that doesn’t change how much we need your cooperation. Think about it this way—if you’d had a girls ranch to go to instead of that long string of foster homes, would things have turned out differently for you?”

  She didn’t reply, which told Gabe he’d perhaps made his point, so he went on. “The boys ranch is a good thing. It’s worth expanding.” Gabe planted his hands on top of the porch rail and looked out in the direction where the ranch lay beyond a line of trees. If he could just get her there, even once, it would help to convince her.

  “And while I wish old Cyrus would have been nice enough to help that without all these hijinks, I’ve got to take his help the way it came.”

  Avery’s dark laugh returned. “‘Hijinks.’ That’s one way to put it.” She ran one hand through the neat fringe of brown hair that framed her round face. “You know, those messages and emails from Darcy Hill just about knocked me over. I didn’t know what to think. It’s a crazy scheme, even you have to admit that. I only decided to come on the hopes I’d get some answers. Or maybe I came half out of curiosity. Or amusement.” She paused for a long moment, then added, “I didn’t count on it hurting so much, you know?”

  Gabe shifted his gaze to her, startled by the admission. “How so?”

  “To walk around here and see this picture postcard of a little town. To know I could have been here rather than those dumps of foster homes if only he’d...” Her words fell off and she turned away. “Like I said, I know it’s not very Christian of me, but I hate him.”

  Up until this moment, Gabe hadn’t been able to fathom what would allow Avery to walk away from a possible inheritance. Here he’d thought it was just the frustration of living under Roz Sackett’s glare, that getting her here would solve everything and be worth the chaos he’d just launched upon his household.

  That wasn’t the half of it. What was eating Avery Culpepper was so much more than just squirrelly twins. Cyrus Culpepper cast a long, cold shadow here in Haven, and he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to spend any time in it. Neither her nor her girls. It was, as Pastor Walsh would put it, “a God-sized problem” of history and pain.

  History and pain. The world was flooded with it. He’d lived it, she’d lived it. The boys ranch fought against it, one young life at a time. How do I solve this, Lord? How can I override twenty years of a dead man’s neglect? I’ve got to find a way. Gabe pleaded to the heaven he’d once imagined hid behind the veil of stars. Somehow he’d have to convince this woman to set aside the mountain of pride and pain she clearly carried while trying to make his own grandfather appear out of thin air.

  A God-sized problem indeed.

  * * *

  Avery groped her way toward the kitchen coffeemaker Wednesday morning, every bone aching from lack of sleep. How had the girls managed to be so sleepless and fidgety well into the wee hours after such an eventful day?

  “Oh, dear,” said Marlene as she stood slicing bread at the counter. “You don’t look like you’ve slept a wink.”

  “I think it was three...four, maybe, by the time the both of them finally nodded off for good.” Avery didn’t even have the energy to stifle her yawn. “I thought they’d be exhausted. I sure am.”

  Marlene looked crestfallen. “They didn’t like their beds?”

  “Oh, they love them. I think the changes of location keep knocking them for a bit of a loop. By one a.m. I had both of them crawling in bed with me, all kicking and sprawling and fidgety.” She spooned sugar into the strong-smelling brew. “It was like sleeping with a pair of mules on espresso.”

  That made Marlene laugh. “I was sure Jethro and I had worn them out. We tried.”

  The older couple really had gone out of their way to play with Dinah and Debbie, especially after supper, when Avery felt drained from the stresses of the day. “At least they’re still out cold, the little darlings. My bed is up against the wall, so when I smelled coffee, I propped up a few pillows on the open edge and s
lipped out. I’m hoping that will buy me at least five minutes to grab a cup.”

  “Oh, honey, the way you look I ought to send you out to the porch swing with a thermos and a blanket. Young ones take so much out of you, don’t they?”

  Avery sipped the coffee, letting the bracing hot brew pull her toward clarity. The coffee at the boardinghouse was passable, but this coffee was marvelous. And not all the way down a flight of stairs, where she didn’t feel right leaving the girls. She wrapped her hands around the stoneware mug and breathed a sigh of gratitude. A cup of morning coffee in quiet felt like the grandest of luxuries. “I wouldn’t trade them for the world,” Avery answered the housekeeper, “even when they stomp on my last nerve.”

  “And we all know little ones can surely do that.” Marlene put a compassionate hand on Avery’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. Truly.”

  “I hope Gabe can say the same.” Avery ran her hands through what must be a bird’s nest of bed hair. “Where is he?”

  “Off into Waco on business bright and early this morning. That man has risen before the sun every day I’ve known him. If you like the coffee, you can thank him—he makes it before the rest of us even open our eyes.”

  Her mind concocted a vision of Gabe vaulting into his truck and peeling down the gravel road, eager to escape the girlish invasion. It would have been smarter to refuse his offer. He must be regretting it after yesterday’s chaos, but he’d been a gentleman and hidden any sign of it. Either that or the boys ranch must be truly desperate to win her compliance.

  The discomfort must have shown on her face, for Marlene squeezed her shoulder. “Oh, I know Gabriel can look like a stiff old bull sometimes, but he’s got a heart of gold down under it all. It’ll work out just fine, I promise you. Just takes a little adjusting.”

  Avery leaned up against the counter. “What I don’t get is, why did he make the offer in the first place?”