Cathy Gillen - The Texas Rancher's Marriage

Chase did the same for Jeffrey. “And that brought in more than enough to pay the mortgage and the taxes and the upkeep on the property?”

“As well as a small salary for me.”

“But…?” he prodded, sensing there was more.

Merri climbed into the passenger seat. “Eventually, I realized I needed to build something of my own for me and the kids, and take a more active part in the running of the ranch.” She tugged her dress down over her knees. “Which is when I converted the barn on the south part of the property to a milking operation, hired one full-time hand to help me manage it and bought a dozen Jersey cows and a dozen Guernseys.”

Chase did a double take. “You’re turning the Broken Arrow Ranch into a dairy farm?”

“Uh, yeah.…I am.”

His jaw tautened. “You never mentioned it in any of your letters.”

That’s because I knew you wouldn’t approve. “Hmm. Didn’t I?”

He made a face.

“The cows are really cute,” Jessalyn interjected from her booster seat. “Some are brown and white and some are black and white....”

“I like it when they moo,” Jeffrey declared.

Chase continued gaping at Merri as if she were a complete and utter fool. She refused to let his skepticism get her down. “It’s a good thing,” she promised, sure about this decision even if she wasn’t so certain about others. Cheerfully, she predicted, “And it will be even better in a few years, when we get the dairy operation expanded to quadruple the size.”

* * *

MERRI HADN’T BEEN KIDDING, Chase noted thirty minutes later when all four of them had changed into “ranch clothes,” hopped in the pickup truck and headed for the south side of the Broken Arrow Ranch. Just as she had claimed, there were twenty-four cows pastured outside the big barn. All were big, robust, surprisingly handsome animals. Most were heading slowly for the barn door as the truck approached.

“The cows like to come in all on their own!” Jessalyn announced.

“But if they don’t, Mutt—the doggie—will help Slim get the cows inside the barn, so they can get hooked up,” Jeffrey added helpfully.

“The cows know when it’s time to be milked, so they head for the barn,” Merri explained.

Chase parked in the gravel area and everyone got out.

A tall, thin cowboy in his mid-fifties came out of the barn, with a border collie at his heels. The gray-haired hired hand tipped his hat at Merri before glancing at Chase. “I expect you want to have a look around,” he drawled, with the respect due one of the original Armstrongs.

Did he? Chase wondered.

Finding out what Merri had been doing to the place was his worst nightmare. He was stunned no one had mentioned it. But maybe they’d figured—rightly so—that it was going to be a sore subject with him.

Chase tipped his hat back to Slim, a cowboy he recalled meeting at the barbecue in his honor. “May as well,” he grumbled.

Clasping the children’s hands, Merri led the way inside the sparkling, clean barn.

Chase was stunned to see twenty-four stalls, and plenty of stainless-steel, state-of-the-art milking equipment with hoses running to a big steel vat.

Merri murmured with pride, “I joined a co-op dairy that supplies organic milk to a big grocery store chain. Every day a truck comes in and takes it to the processing plant, for ultrahigh-temperature processing and packaging.”

“I don’t like the truck,” Jessalyn complained, covering her ears. “It’s too noisy.”

“But we like watching the cows get milked,” Jeffrey said.

As the bovines were ushered into the stalls, they were hooked up to the milking machines. For all the activity, the barn was surprisingly quiet and peaceful.

Chase’s cell phone rang.

He stepped outside to take the call, then walked back in to let Merri know the latest. “That was Liz Cartwright Anderson. She got us on Judge Roy’s docket for tomorrow afternoon at four. We’re the last case the judge is going to hear before the Thanksgiving break.”

A fact, Chase thought happily, that put them one step closer to his ultimate goal: to have this family officially his.

Chapter Three

“You know what I think?” Judge Priscilla Roy said after listening to Chase and Merri’s joint request for guardianship. In her black robe, glasses perched on the edge of her nose, the dark-haired justice cut an imposing figure as she glared at Chase. “None of what is going on here today, or what happened yesterday in the hospital chapel, has anything to do with the kind of unconditional love and commitment needed for a successful marriage, never mind a stable family unit.”

She was right about that, Merri thought. Their union wasn’t about the feelings she and Chase had for each other.

“I think you’re just doing this to provide access to the children slash heirs and get back control of the family ranch.”

Merri blinked. What?

“Your Honor. There has been no request from Mr. Armstrong for control of the children’s estate,” Liz interjected with lawyerly calm.

Judge Roy waved her hand, then drew her glasses farther down the bridge of her nose and peered at Chase. “Don’t tell me you’re happy about what happened to the ranch you grew up on. Armstrongs and the Broken Arrow have always raised beef cattle. Not dairy cows.”

“That’s true,” Chase admitted with admirable candor. “What’s happened there would not have been my choice. But I do understand.” He turned to glance at Merri. “My wife had to raise these kids on her own and take care of the property. She’s done the best she could under the circumstances.”

Unmoved, Judge Roy continued, “But you could do better?”

Chase lifted his hands. “I’m a surgeon.”

Sternly, the judge commanded, “Answer the question, please.”

He released an exasperated breath and looked at her, squaring his shoulders deliberately. “Yes. I think I could do better. But that’s not the point, Your Honor.”

“Actually, Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong, I think that is exactly the point. Mr. Armstrong is back in town and wants what was previously denied him by his mother’s estate—control of the ranch and its assets, which are currently held in trust for the children. To get that, he would have to be co-guardian of the kids.” Priscilla Roy paused meaningfully. “And to achieve that, at least in my courtroom, he has to be married to Merri Duncan. Which he has managed in very short order, with no prior courtship, at least that anyone in the county seems to know about.”

Merri didn’t know what they could say to that, without breaking the promise she and Chase had made to each other to keep the twins’ biological origins private and hence protect the children from scandal. It was bad enough that they’d been orphaned at eight weeks of age, without making Scott and Sasha out to be conniving liars.

Thank heavens the twins didn’t understand any of this. At four and a half, they simply wanted Merri to be their mommy, and hopefully soon, for Chase to be their daddy.

“Judge,” Liz interrupted, “if I may… I have spoken at length with my clients. They both want what is best for these children. Jeffrey and Jessalyn need a father and a mother, and my clients are willing to make the necessary sacrifices and work together to provide that.”

Judge Roy looked at Merri. “An early Christmas gift?”

Wary of making a mistake that would put them in even deeper trouble, she admitted cautiously, “Something like that.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong. You worked as a wedding planner before settling back in Laramie County?”

Merri nodded. “That’s true.”

Judge Roy rocked back in her chair. “And isn’t that a romantic profession?”