Leigh Riker - Twins Under The Tree

Hadley turned to the young cowhand he’d hired half an hour ago. “I’ll be at a cattle auction tomorrow. While I’m gone, make sure the south fence is tight—and if there’s a hole, fix it. With luck I’ll bring back some stock.” He planned to use the ranch’s meager amount of cash to buy the cows. After those funds were gone, he’d have to see Barney again about the loan he hadn’t applied for before he stomped out of the bank.

Cory Jennings grinned. Shorter than Hadley by an inch or two, he still stood over six feet. His dancing dark eyes met his. “Said I’ll do a good job for you. That means taking the horse to ride fence.”

A few days ago, Hadley and Clara had pooled enough money to buy the ranch’s one horse, a rangy sorrel from a “dealer” who’d stopped in Barren on his way to Colorado. Hadley doubted the gelding was worth even the three hundred dollars they’d paid. In his view the horse had been on the road to the glue factory. Lucky for the horse, he’d found two people with soft hearts and desperate for any help the sorrel might provide in return for saving his life. “You sure you can ride him?”

Cory pointed at the big belt buckle he wore, a prize he’d won in some rodeo. “I can ride anything.” Retired from competition, Cory was one of many mid-level players in the sport, Hadley supposed, but he didn’t lack confidence. Cory could even be cocky. “Mean broncs, rank bulls… I’m an all-around cowboy.”

Hadley tilted his head toward the nearby stall. “Yeah, well, this one has a tendency to buck so I guess that means you can handle him.” He suppressed a brief flash of concern. Should he trust Cory? How capable was he? He knew very little about him. “Just in case, carry your cell. You get into trouble, call Clara at the house.” Before the upcoming auction, Hadley hadn’t found time to check the fence himself.

Cory’s grin widened. “I’ll not only secure your fence, I’ll whip that nag into shape real quick. I’ve got the touch.”

“But remember, the horse spooks at the slightest cause for alarm. A piece of white paper blowing across the yard. The hoot of a barn owl. A car coming up the drive.” If that was Jenna, he could understand the reaction. The gelding took particular exception to the sound of Clara’s dinner bell, rusty after years of disuse, being rung from the back porch. “Treat Mr. Robert like the gentleman he should be.”

“He’s no gentleman, all right.” Cory ran a hand through his wheat-colored hair. “But then, neither am I.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Hadley muttered. The ex–rodeo “star” had come with only vague references, but he and Clara weren’t in any position to demand them. For now, they needed help—and Cory had been their only candidate. “Just do the job, keep your nose clean, and I’ll pay you.” Somehow.

Still, he had to admit, the guy was an enigma. He’d seemed to fall from the sky exactly when Hadley had needed him, and Hadley couldn’t be choosy. In a way he reminded him of the kids he and his brother had been long ago, being abandoned here and there, which had turned Hadley into a drifter. He wondered if the same had happened to Dallas and where he might be now. On the road somewhere, as Cory had been? How long would he stay? Hadley blocked out the thought. If he was going to get Clara’s ranch going again, he had to make it happen any way he could. For her, the twins and himself.

Cory started down the aisle toward the feed room, which was a mass of cobwebs at the moment, then stopped. When he turned around, his gaze faltered. “I left my gear in my truck. Where am I supposed to sleep?”

Hadley hadn’t considered that. There was no room in Clara’s house. The day after they’d hatched their plan to get the ranch on its feet again, he’d inspected the old foreman’s bungalow. But the floor had nearly buckled under his feet, the boards were so rotten and warped. The front windows were broken, the toilet was missing, and there were mouse droppings everywhere. The bungalow made the foreman’s house at the NLS seem like a palace. “If I were you, I’d lay some fresh straw in the loft tonight. You can eat your meals with me and Mrs. McMann. We’ll figure something better out—but not today.”

“I can sleep anywhere,” Cory said with a shrug. He walked back to Hadley, then stuck out his hand. “Thanks for taking a chance on me.”

As if not many people did. Hadley could understand that. They shook, and Hadley couldn’t help but think of today’s meeting with Barney Caldwell and Jenna at the bank. He sure could have used that account money—at his discretion—to put the McMann ranch on solid footing again, but Amy hadn’t given him that power. Hadley had a new idea, though, which made him smile. He would definitely speak to Jenna again.

But all he said to Cory was, “Don’t let me down.”

AFTER A LONG DAY of beating the bushes for clients, Jenna let herself into the apartment she’d rented on the far edge of Barren. The sun had gone down half an hour ago, and although she’d enjoyed the mesmerizing sight of color splashed across the sky on the drive home, it hadn’t raised her spirits.

She tried not to feel discouraged. Her ad in the local paper didn’t seem to be working. Neither had the flyers she’d placed on the front counters at the library, the Bon Appetit or the Sundown Café. Oh, and every store in town. Sherry had taken some for the Baby Things shop, assuring Jenna that many of her clients were young marrieds and first-time homeowners who might welcome her advice on decor. None of her canvassing had worked so far, nor had her new website. Not a single person had liked the website or her Facebook page, and as of tonight Jenna had zero genuine followers. She wouldn’t count her sister, her friends or her mom, who supported her but didn’t need her services.

She certainly couldn’t count Hadley. Their meeting in Barney’s office preyed on her mind and soured her mood. Why blame her for Amy’s decision about the bank account? She only wished she’d been more proactive instead of avoiding Barney for so long. They could have met without Hadley there and avoided the confrontation. Then she’d have been better prepared.

She set down her tote bag containing the leftover flyers just as someone knocked at her door.

“I’ve brought dinner,” her mother said, breezing into the apartment, the aroma of pizza from the box she carried following her inside.

“I’m not hungry, Mama.” Jenna turned on some lights.

“You have to eat. You’re too thin. Do you have anything to drink?”

“Soda. Orange juice. Water,” she said after mentally reviewing the contents of her fridge.

Wanda set the box on the kitchen table, the new diamond ring on her finger flashing as she moved, reminding Jenna of her talk with Shadow about their mother’s engagement to Jack Hancock. Familiar with Jenna’s kitchen, Wanda pulled out two glasses, then plates from the cupboard, and silverware from a drawer.

“Mama, really.”

Her mother took a seat, then waved Jenna toward the opposite chair. Without warning, she said, “I hear there was an incident at the bank.” As if she or Hadley Smith had robbed it. “Is that why you look so down in the mouth? Here.” She pushed a slice of pizza across the table. “As I tell Jack’s uncle Bertie, food cures everything.”

Jenna merely raised an eyebrow. She and Clara should start a cooking school. Jenna wouldn’t talk about the bank, or about Hadley. “Did you cut your hair?”

“I had it done at the salon,” Wanda said, a lifelong do-it-herself-er. This was yet another change in her mother’s life for the better. Wanda patted the sleek new style, her once-dull dark hair now shiny with coppery highlights. “Jack likes it.”