Arlene James - The Rancher's Answered Prayer

“Your stepdaddy,” Wyatt repeated, his tone skeptical.

“Dodd Smith.”

“Whoa!” Wyatt exclaimed. “Uncle Dodd left us this place.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what the will says.”

“That’s exactly what it says,” Wyatt countered firmly. “And I have the will to prove it.”

Tina lifted her eyebrows. “So do I.”

Just then her six-year-old son, Tyler, yelled, “Mo-om, I gotta go!”

Tamping down her impatience, Tina turned back to the car and opened the door for him. They’d just driven four hours without stopping, after all, and she’d let him have that extra juice box. Besides, if the house was safe for Jake Smith’s son, it must be safe for hers. She signaled for Tyler to join her, and he hopped down out of his seat, having already released his safety belt.

When Tyler reached her side, she automatically lifted a hand to smooth down the spike of reddish-blond hair that always managed to stand up. He automatically dodged her, jerking his head out of reach. The Smith brothers exchanged glances, and Jake stepped back, gesturing at Tyler.

“Come on in.”

Tyler followed without bothering to look to his mother for permission. Sighing inwardly, Tina followed her son up the steps. Tyler squeezed past Wyatt, who didn’t bother to move out of the way. Instead, Wyatt just stood there, challenging her with every ounce of his considerable weight. Mimicking his stance, Tina stopped on the narrow stoop, folded her arms, met his gaze squarely and purred, “Excuse me.”

His shadowed jaw worked side to side as he ground his teeth, but then he stepped back and let her pass. She walked into the kitchen, both dismayed and comforted by its condition. Fortunately, she had learned long ago to keep her opinions to herself, so she made no comment. Just in case the Smith nephews thought she might be unfamiliar with the place, however, she pointed to the back hallway and addressed her son.

“Right down there, honey.”

Tyler trotted off, flipping a curious wave to the youngest Smith, who hugged his father’s neck with one arm and copied Tyler’s gesture with the other.

“Potty,” the boy said just as Tyler disappeared from sight.

“Frankie’s what? Three now?” Tina asked Jake.

Nodding, Jake narrowed his eyes suspiciously before stooping to set the boy on his feet. “That’s right.”

The boy darted away from his father and into the arms of his uncle. Wyatt scooped him up with practiced ease. Jacoby, meanwhile, frowned at Tina.

“You sure seem to know a lot about us.”

“I ought to. Daddy Dodd talked about you constantly.”

“Unca Wyatt,” Frankie asked, pointing a timid finger at Tina, “who’s that?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Wyatt replied dourly.

Tina sighed. “I told you. My name is Tina Walker Kemp. Dodd Smith was my stepfather. He left me this house and—”

“You are confused,” Wyatt interrupted. “Uncle Dodd left this place to us, all two thousand acres of it.”

“I’m not confused,” Tina insisted. “Daddy Dodd sent me a paper which states clearly that the house and mineral rights to Loco Man Ranch are mine .”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Jake erupted.

“In Oklahoma,” Wyatt said, his voice low and growling, “mineral rights are separate from property rights. But nothing was ever said to me about the house not being part of our bequest.”

Jake threw up his hands. “That’s just swell.”

Ignoring him, Wyatt demanded of Tina, “And just when did Daddy Dodd send you that paper leaving you his house and mineral rights?”

Ignoring the lump of fear that had risen in her throat—if Daddy Dodd had written a later will without telling her—Tina calmly answered, “Over two years ago, right after my divorce.”

Wyatt scowled, but whether it was due to the timeline, the fact that she was divorced or the paper in her possession, Tina couldn’t say. Not that it mattered. She had come home, and she had no intention of leaving. She couldn’t. She had no other safe place to go.

“Now, why would Dodd leave you the house and mineral rights?” Jake wanted to know.

“Because he knew I love it here,” Tina replied, sweeping aside a stray hair on her forehead. “I didn’t want to leave when he and my mom split up, and I came to visit as often as I could.”

Wyatt’s dark eyes held hers. “You were how old when they split?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“And that was how long ago?” Jake demanded. Grimacing, he added, “Sorry, you just don’t look old enough to be the only stepdaughter I ever knew Uncle Dodd to have.”

“Well, I am old enough,” she retorted firmly. “I’m twenty-nine.”

“So, thirteen years ago,” Wyatt muttered. Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Wait a minute... You’re Walker.”

Tina couldn’t help chuckling. “That’s right. He called me Walker because my mother called me Tiny instead of Tina, and I had some issues with that nickname. He was the only person in the world to call me by my last name.”

Wyatt finally put it together. “Your mother was Gina Walker.”

“Correct.” Though technically it was Gina Schultz Walker Haldon Smith Murray Becker. Gina hadn’t believed in dropping the surnames of her husbands; she’d just added to them.

“That’s you in the photos in the foyer,” Wyatt deduced.

Tina grimaced. She’d been a tubby teenager, self-conscious about her shape, and her overbearing mother had called her Tiny in a futile effort to get Tina to slim down. When she looked in the mirror now, Tina still saw an overweight woman, but at least she knew how to dress for her figure these days.

“I think one of Tyler’s baby pictures is hanging there, too,” she said in a half-hearted attempt to change the subject. “At least that’s where Dodd said he was going to hang it last time we were here.”

“And when was that exactly?” Wyatt asked, sounding tired suddenly.

“Tyler was maybe eight months old, so about five-and-a-half years ago. Maybe a month or two longer. I think it was June.” She thought a moment. “Yes, it was June. I was hoping to stay through the Fourth of July, but...”

She flashed back to the sound of the telephone ringing in the middle of the night. Her husband, Layne, had raged that she’d abandoned him when he’d needed her most and demanded that she return home. She’d stupidly gathered up her sleeping baby and hit the road, only to find that the emergency he’d referred to was nothing more than a lost commission. As his wife, accepting blame for everything that went wrong in his life had been her primary role, but at the time she’d still believed that if she was just patient and long-suffering enough, Layne would magically morph into the steady, loving husband and father she’d imagined he would be when she’d married him.

Pushing aside the unwanted memories, Tina cleared her throat. “Things were in better shape the last time I was here.”

Wyatt shook his head grimly. “Wait’ll we check the roof and plumbing, not to mention the electricity.”

Fear tightened into a lump in Tina’s stomach. The electricity had been downright scary the last time she was here, so she had no doubt that the wiring needed upgrading, but she refused to be daunted. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll set things to right.” Somehow.

“You sound awfully sure of that,” he said, “even though I stand here with a will that leaves me and my brothers everything.”

She gave him her steeliest glare. “Oh, I am sure. One man has already taken me for everything I owned, and I’ll never let that happen again.”

Chapter Two

W ell, this is a fine mess.

Wyatt looked at the two papers in his hands, but no matter how long he stared, nothing changed. Both were dated identically and drawn up by the same attorney, Rex Billings. Sighing, Wyatt dropped the papers to the table in the Billings’ ranch house kitchen and rubbed a hand across his brow. What had Uncle Dodd been thinking? And how could the lawyer let him do this? Wyatt’s stomach roiled.