Allie Pleiter - The Rancher's Texas Twins

“Who says I’m not well settled in Tennessee? I have a job, Mr. Everett. I have clients and decorating jobs waiting on my return. We have a house in Dickson. It may not seem like much to a big rancher like you, but it’s the place the girls have known all their lives. I can’t imagine needing whatever is in that will.”

He noticed she had not mentioned friends or family. And she’d said house not home. Avery Culpepper might not have much, but she surely had her pride. “Please stay,” he said as congenially as he knew how. “I know it’s asking a lot, but lots of boys’ welfare depends on us meeting the requirements of your grandfather’s will. And you’re one of those requirements, even though I know that doesn’t sit well with you.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t.”

“Haven’s full of good people. Kind folks I know would help with the girls while you’re here and all.” He was desperate for any argument that would convince the woman not to head back to Tennessee.

Exhaustion pulled at her pretty features. His mother had worn herself thin trying to raise him all on her own, and there had been only one of him. Almost every memory he held of his mother contained the same bone-tired countenance Avery Culpepper now wore. The pain that singed her brown eyes told him she was feeling alone, used and overwhelmed.

Could he really blame her for being ready to put the drama of Haven behind her? Her estranged grandfather, Cyrus Culpepper—who was evidently just as ornery on both sides of the grave—had ignored her all her life only to demand her appearance now. Half the town had been on a wild-goose chase to find her and bring her here. And to receive what? So far Cyrus had bequeathed her just a run-down cabin. True to Cyrus, he’d hinted that there might be more. Only how much more—and what—was anybody’s guess until they opened a designated envelope at the seventieth anniversary celebration of the boys ranch a few weeks from now.

An unusable half an inheritance with a commanded appearance for a mystery other half—that was pure Cyrus. It was just like him to pull some ridiculous stunt as a final goodbye to the town that had put up with his bullheadedness all his life.

Gabe hated having to plead with this poor young woman. Was Cyrus fool enough to think an inheritance could make up for years of being ignored? At least Gabe had a mom—even if it was a tired one; Avery had been shuttled from foster home to foster home from what he’d heard.

No, Avery had dozens of reasons not to go along with that old curmudgeon’s ridiculous set of final demands. Only Gabe didn’t have the luxury of her refusal.

The eyes of the ranch’s residents—problem kids through little fault of their own, just like he’d been—seemed to stare down the back of his neck as if the boys stood behind him. Tomorrow is March 1. The clock was ticking on the March 20th deadline for the anniversary celebration. Keep her here. Do whatever it takes. Grinding his teeth, angry that a coot like Culpepper could still stir up such trouble from the grave, Gabe tried again. “Please say you’ll stay. Just until we get this all straightened out. We’ll all pitch in to make it as easy on you as possible.” He hated that it sounded like he was begging. He hated even more that he was begging.

“I don’t know.” She didn’t look at all convinced. She was barely paying him any attention with the wiggly girls skipping all around the porch as they played some noisy singsong of a game. Mercy, but there was a good reason he’d never married or started a family. Gabe’s fingers twitched as if he could reach out and grab Cyrus’s spindly neck and shake the endless meanness from the man. “Honestly,” she continued as she grabbed Debbie just before the girls started skipping in circles around each other. “I just can’t see how...”

The porch door swung open and a very irritated Roz Sackett emerged holding a frilly doll. Oh, no. Roz owned the boardinghouse, and her doll collection was her pride and joy. Everyone in town knew it. Everyone also knew Roz was not a woman known for grace or patience. One look at the colored smears on the doll’s china face told Gabe that Roz had reached the end of her already-short fuse.

“Miss Avery,” the innkeeper began in a clipped tone, “I’ve told you more than once to keep those girls away from my collection.”

At the sight of what was evidently her handiwork, Dinah left her skipping to head over toward the delicate doll. “She’s pretty. Can I hold her?” Gabe grabbed the girl before she could reach her target. Nobody dared mess with Roz’s precious doll collection—but Debbie and Dinah didn’t know that.

Debbie, not to be bested by her sister, squealed, “Me first!” and darted around the table, rocking it and sending more markers rolling out over the porch floor.

Roz cried out in alarm, holding the doll above her head as if the thing was in mortal danger. While still holding Dinah by one elbow, Gabe managed to wedge a leg in front of Debbie. He’d hoped to simply impede her progress, but ended up tripping her instead, which sent her to the porch floor in tears. Naturally, Dinah began to cry, as well.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Sackett,” Avery called over the increasing wails as she ducked around Gabe to reach Dinah and pick up Debbie. “It won’t happen again.”

“Oh, yes, it will,” countered Roz as she continued to hold up the doll, out of little hands’ reach. “Bless your heart, child, I know you’ve got your hands full, but this simply won’t work. They’re too rambunctious.” Given everything that had just happened, Gabe found himself surprised Roz hadn’t called the girls flat-out wild. “I’m at my wit’s end!” the innkeeper declared, throwing up her free hand.

She wasn’t wrong. The girls were wild. That wasn’t necessarily Avery’s fault. From what Gabe knew about four-year-olds—which was next to nothing since the youngest guests of the boys ranch were in first grade—preschoolers didn’t come any other way but rambunctious.

Avery’s eyes went narrow with hurt. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to head back to Dickson.”

Gabe threw Roz a look he hoped said “we can’t let her leave.” The Blue Bonnet Inn—the only other place in Haven to stay—was full up and, as fancy as it was, would be no place for these youngsters.

Roz threw back an exasperated glare. “Well, I’m sorry to say it, but you can’t stay here.” She didn’t look one bit sorry to have said it. Avery Culpepper didn’t need anyone handing her reasons to leave. Didn’t Roz realize half the town had been working toward meeting Culpepper’s absurd ultimatums—which meant finding Avery and keeping her here—since October?

Do something. Anything. It jumped out of his mouth before he had even a moment to think better of it, the foolish notion of a desperate man. “You don’t need to head back. You can come stay at Five Rocks.”

Roz Sackett’s eyebrows nearly popped through her hairline at the offer. If a face could shout impropriety for no good reason, it was hers.

“With me and Jethro and Marlene,” he clarified immediately, adjusting his hat, which had gone askew in the mayhem. “My housekeeper and her husband live on my ranch with me, remember?”

“Stay with you?” Avery looked shocked. She ought to. He was still shocked he’d made the offer at all.

“No,” Gabe clarified a second time, “with me, my housekeeper and her husband.” When both Avery and Mrs. Sackett still stared at him, he reached down and began gathering the markers off the floor. “If nothing else, four adults might give you a fighting chance against these two.”

Debbie reached over and began picking up markers herself, but ended up knocking Gabe’s hat off his head.