Judy Christenberry - The Rancher Takes A Family

“Yeah, that’s what it is. The thing is, Deb, I can’t keep sending you money and—”

“Sending me money? What are you talking about?”

He turned to stare at her until she warned him about an oncoming car. Then he said, “I’ve been sending your mother money every month to help out. She promised me she was passing it on to you.”

Debra looked out the window, unable to face her uncle, knowing that her mother had betrayed her again. They had never had a good relationship. After her father’s death, when Debra was nine, her mother had become so self-centered, Debra had practically raised herself. But she hated to think that her mother had intentionally kept money intended to help her own daughter.

She scrambled for a response to her uncle. “I guess she forgot.”

Bill slammed the steering wheel. “Damn! I should’ve known. Eileen was always— Never mind. Things will be better now.”

“I hope so,” Debra said softly. “I’ll certainly work hard. And it will be so wonderful to have Andy with me all day.”

Her uncle’s revelation explained why her mother had suddenly pleaded with her not to go. Greed had motivated her sudden maternal concern.

As usual, nothing had changed. But knowing the truth destroyed any light of hope that she’d misjudged her mother.

She shook off any sadness, focusing instead on her new life.

“So I’m going to be a housekeeper. How many people are in the family? Are there children Andy can play with?”

“Um, it’s a widower and his little girl,” Bill mumbled.

“Is there something weird about the job, Uncle Bill?” Something in her uncle’s voice didn’t seem quite right. She should’ve known better. There were no fairy-tale happy endings in the world today. She looked back at her sleeping son. She would protect Andy—whatever it took.

“Now, Debbie, honey, I want you to remember I have your best interest at heart.”

Debra got a sick feeling in her stomach. She’d pinned her hopes on her uncle’s promises. Surely Uncle Bill wouldn’t let her down…Would he? She couldn’t go back to Kansas City, to living with her mother, to being the cook in a diner, getting up at four-thirty every morning, no matter how she felt. Then she would come home at two, clean house while Andy finished his nap, play with him, fix dinner and go to bed to get up and do it all over again. She was growing old at twenty-two.

What was her uncle’s problem? “I don’t mind working hard, Uncle Bill.”

“Good. ’Cause you’ll be working hard.” He smiled at her, and she relaxed a little. In his fifties now, her uncle was still a handsome man, tall and muscular, with not a strand of gray in his full head of brown hair. He looked exactly as she remembered him.

They had been passing through mile after mile of ranch land and now she saw a town up ahead. A few shops, a café, a small bank. “Is this Westlake, Uncle Bill?”

Without answering, her uncle pulled to a stop in front of the only other building easily identifiable—a church.

“Uh, Debbie, there’s something I haven’t told you about the job.”

John heard the rear door of the church opening. He glanced over his shoulder from the front pew where he sat holding Betsy and waiting. This was a day he’d remember forever. March second. His second wedding. Guaranteed to be a disaster.

He turned back when he realized Bill was arguing with his niece. Was she hoping for a better deal? After all, his first wife had taught him well. If this one didn’t want what he was offering, he’d manage without her.

In fact, this was a dumb idea all-around. He stood, prepared to walk out of the church. Only a crazy man would’ve given in to Bill’s plan. And he wasn’t crazy.

The only problem was, he’d have to go past Bill and his niece to get to his truck. And he didn’t want to do that.

Suddenly John realized the woman was holding her son. The boy was the only thing about this agreement he liked. Not that he’d ever trade Betsy. True, he’d originally hoped for a boy, but it had only taken a minute of staring down at his tiny baby daughter to win his heart. But he would enjoy having a boy around, too.

It wasn’t as if he would ever have a son of his own.

More noise echoed from the rear of the church. He looked over his shoulder again. Bill and his niece were walking to the front. Okay, so she’d finally agreed. Too late to escape now.

“Uh, John,” Bill said, sounding nervous, “this here is my niece, Debra Williams, and her boy, Andy.”

“Hello,” John said. He knew he should offer a smile, but he couldn’t. Like a mantra, one line kept repeating in his brain: This is crazy…. This is crazy….

As if on cue, a door in the back of the church opened and the gentle face of their pastor, Reverend Tony Jackson, appeared. He came down the aisle with the big smile of a clergyman who thought he was sending a new couple off to wedded bliss.

“Ah, here’s the happy couple. John, introduce me to your lovely bride.”

John cleared his throat. “Uh, Reverend Jackson, this is Debra Williams, Bill’s niece.” He wouldn’t exactly call the woman lovely. Especially with that frown. Bill must’ve just told her about all the work she’d have to do, John figured. Maybe they should halt the proceedings right here and make sure she was willing to do what was necessary.

The reverend shook her hand. “How nice to meet you. Now, if you two will face forward…” He frowned. “Uh, Bill, can you hold the two little ones?”

“Sure, Pastor, I’ll just sit here in the front row. After all, I’m the witness, too.” He took Betsy out of John’s arms and then took the little boy’s hand after his mother set him down on the floor.

John’s frown deepened. He hated this! After his last marriage, he’d vowed never to marry again. Never to give some woman power over him. And he wasn’t including that vulnerability as a part of this marriage. He’d told Bill that.

He finally forced himself to look his new wife in the face. She had brown hair, pale skin, vulnerable gray eyes…

No! He stopped himself with a sharp command. Her looks didn’t matter. He was hiring her! That was how he was going to get through this day, by pretending he was hiring her for a job. Not to be his wife.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” Reverend Jackson began.

John pressed his lips together, trying to ignore all the wrong things about that statement that seemed to burn a hole in his gut. He felt deceitful—not easy for a man who’d lived an honest life till now.

Before he knew it, the pastor had spoken those terrible words, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

John remembered what would naturally follow those words and he hurriedly said, “Uh, thanks, Reverend Jackson. We’ll definitely have you out for dinner after calving season.” Then he shoved a white envelope in the man’s hand and turned to Bill to get his little girl.

As he reached for Betsy, the shaggy-haired boy looked up at him. Shyly he asked, “Are you a cowboy?”

The question surprised him. He looked down at the blue suit he wore. He’d bought it three years ago when his father died. Not the best memory. He shut it down. “Yeah, I’m a cowboy.”

“Not now, Andy,” the woman whispered.

Turning to stare at her, John wondered what was so horrible that the little boy wanted to ask. He nodded at Bill. “You’ll get them back to the ranch? I’ll see you there.”

He ignored Bill’s protest as he walked out of the church, Betsy in his arms.

Debra watched the man walk away. He was a handsome man, in his late twenties, tall and muscular, with sea-blue eyes. The kind of man any young woman would dream of marrying. Unless she was wise enough to know that looks didn’t matter. Her own husband—her first husband, she reminded herself—had been handsome. But he hadn’t been much of a husband. Not that John Richey seemed so marriage-minded, either.