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The Rancher's Answered Prayer
Arlene James
A single mum. A bachelor cowboy…and an inheritance forcing them to share Three Brothers RanchAccording to the will, single mum Tina Kemp’s stepfather left her his house, but his nephew, Wyatt Smith, inherited the ranch—including the land the house stands upon.With neither willing to give up their legacy, they must find a way to make it work. Can these adversaries possibly share a home…without falling for each other?


A single mom. A bachelor cowboy...
and an inheritance forcing them to share Three Brothers Ranch
According to the will, single mom Tina Kemp’s stepfather left her his house, but his nephew, Wyatt Smith, inherited the ranch—including the land the house stands upon. With neither willing to give up their legacy, they must find a way to make it work. Can these adversaries possibly share a home...without falling for each other?
ARLENE JAMES has been publishing steadily for nearly four decades and is a charter member of RWA. She is married to an acclaimed artist, and together they have traveled extensively. After growing up in Oklahoma, Arlene lived thirty-four years in Texas and now abides in beautiful northwest Arkansas, near two of the world’s three loveliest, smartest, most talented granddaughters. She is heavily involved in her family, church and community.
Also By Arlene James (#u3103c487-f866-52c4-b88c-c2e5e984aaaf)
Three Brothers Ranch
The Rancher’s Answered Prayer
The Prodigal Ranch
The Rancher’s Homecoming
Her Single Dad Hero
Her Cowboy Boss
Chatam House
Anna Meets Her Match
A Match Made in Texas
Baby Makes a Match
An Unlikely Match
Second Chance Match
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Rancher’s Answered Prayer
Arlene James


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08620-2
THE RANCHER’S ANSWERED PRAYER
© 2018 Deborah Rather
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“Don’t you ever want to marry again?”
Tina shook her head. “How could I be sure it wouldn’t turn out like the first time?”
“You have to trust yourself,” Wyatt said. “You have to believe you won’t make the same mistake twice.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you think I haven’t prayed about this? For so long I believed that no self-respecting man would want me.”
“How could you possibly believe that no man would want you?”
She lifted her shoulders, muttering, “My mother was very beautiful.”
“So are you.”
She stared at him skeptically. Suddenly, everything changed. His gaze seemed targeted on her face, and her own heartbeat stuttered to a stop.
Oh, how she wished he was not so disturbingly attractive. That coupled with his kindness and his strength made him very nearly irresistible. But she didn’t need that.
She didn’t.
She didn’t need a man in her life. Not even a man like Wyatt Smith.
Dear Reader (#u3103c487-f866-52c4-b88c-c2e5e984aaaf),
Most of us have had to start over at some point in our lives. This world often throws us curves and catches us unaware. Nothing, however, catches God unaware. Even when our own poor choices cause us to start over, He is ready with a plan. We can rest assured that He never allows anything into the lives of His children that will not serve the best interests of all involved. Of course, we must exercise our free will and get with the program.
That’s what Tina and Wyatt find themselves doing, struggling to get with the program. It’s clear they each must start over in life and where that new start should begin. Just how intertwined their new lives should be, though, is a mystery—until they get their individual suppositions and baggage out of the way. Isn’t that always the struggle?
May your struggles be brief and your trust in Him absolute.
God bless,
Arlene James
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
—Jeremiah 29:11
For Kay Hensley Strickland, who has never lost her sweetness and knows the true meanings of family and friendship.
DAR
Contents
Cover (#ud785f8ab-d3b5-5917-8d5c-2bcb03d4459a)
Back Cover Text (#ub2fedcf7-f861-5185-8195-286d375ae324)
About the Author (#uec902fb9-6fed-5ad0-93ba-aa0056beb820)
Booklist (#ufb187e8c-0519-5c85-9bcf-a8f9b2d4225e)
Title Page (#u1cd5daa0-cfd8-59c2-82bc-d1f91849b3c8)
Copyright (#ud1760d3c-33d5-5339-b8cb-622066b5c330)
Introduction (#u09a6b496-0b1f-5ba3-8394-6cba37315b5a)
Dear Reader (#u6edb5a9b-d725-5a8e-a0b7-42e93cf97146)
Bible Verse (#ucc3641c5-0dbe-549f-bf79-e2db181fd424)
Dedication (#ube4b7957-54ec-5e01-9d12-765b0937bd85)
Chapter One (#u5b81016f-0bc3-5784-bfe3-4785fa7c47a1)
Chapter Two (#u3b208d95-b7da-579a-924e-3af6c498e278)
Chapter Three (#uf3aa4b5b-a5fc-5759-9662-413141a43f35)
Chapter Four (#ub5652c5e-b538-5c84-b8c5-7059fce22788)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u3103c487-f866-52c4-b88c-c2e5e984aaaf)
“Maybe Uncle Dodd didn’t specifically mention the house in the will because he considered it unlivable.”
Wyatt Smith glanced at his brother Jacob and back to the old house in front of them. Jake had only said out loud what everyone else was thinking. Barely a speck of white paint clung to the old two-story ranch house. Its once green scalloped shingles had faded to a military gray. The front door hung slightly askew, broken glass and all, and the porch showed gaping holes where floorboards ought to be. Obviously, Uncle Dodd hadn’t spent any money on upkeep in his final years, so why had he sold off all the cattle, and what had he done with the proceeds?
“We’ll make do,” Wyatt stated flatly, ignoring the anxious hammering of his heart.
He and his brothers could camp out, if necessary, until they got Loco Man Ranch whipped into shape, but Frankie, Jake’s three-year-old son and Wyatt’s nephew, needed a safe, comfortable place to live. There had to be three or four habitable rooms in this big old house. Besides, it was too late to change their minds now.
They’d sold three businesses and two houses in Houston to make this move and raise the funds necessary to restock the ranch. Two thousand acres in south central Oklahoma could support a lot of cattle, and Wyatt was determined to bring the ranch back to profitability without selling off any acreage. Sink or swim, the Smith brothers were now officially residents of Loco Man Ranch on the very outskirts of War Bonnet, Oklahoma.
He’d never dreamed that the old house would be in such a sorry state, however. This was where he and his brothers had spent many a happy summer, playing cowboy and riding horseback every day. They’d stopped coming for the summer, one by one, after high school, but they’d each made time to see Dodd at least yearly until circumstances had kept them in Houston, occupied with the deaths of their dad and Jake’s wife, as well as fully taking over the family’s businesses. But they were ranchers now and, like three generations of Smith men before them, their hopes lay in the land beneath their feet. God willing, they were going to put Loco Man back on the map. And put the past behind them.
At least it wasn’t too hot yet. The weather in mid-April was plenty warm but not uncomfortably so.
“Let’s see what we’re up against,” Ryder said, striding forward.
At twenty-five, Ryder stood three inches over six feet, just like his older brothers. Thirty-five-year-old Wyatt prided himself on keeping in shape, but his build was blocky, while Ryder naturally carried his hefty two hundred pounds in his powerful arms, shoulders and chest. All three brothers had dark hair and brown eyes, but Ryder’s hair was straight and black, whereas Wyatt’s was curly and coffee brown. Jake’s slimmer build and wavy hair gave him a more polished air, especially in a military uniform, so naturally he had been the first—and thus far the only one—of the brothers to marry. Wyatt suspected that he still grieved the death of his wife, Jolene, deeply.
Handing his son to Wyatt, Jake carefully followed in Ryder’s path to minimize the possibility of falling through a weak spot in the porch floor. Wyatt waited, with Frankie in his arms, at a safe distance. The existing floorboards proved solid enough. The door, however, presented a challenge.
Jake elbowed Ryder out of the way and reached through the broken glass inset, saying, “My arm’s skinnier than yours.”
Gingerly fumbling for several moments, he frowned, but then something clicked and the outside edge of the door dropped slightly. Jake carefully extracted his arm from the jagged hole and stepped aside so Ryder could pull the door open. Wyatt followed his brothers inside.
Red-orange sand had blown into the entry through the broken glass, dulling the dark hardwood of the foyer floor and staircase. Framed photographs covered the foyer walls, all dulled by a thick layer of dust. Many of them, Wyatt saw at a glance, were poorly framed school pictures of him and his brothers, but others showed a sturdy girl with long, chestnut brown hair and heavy eyebrows, as well as a baby photo of a wrinkled newborn in a pale blue onesie. Everything else looked the same, dusty but familiar.
Antique furniture still stood around the cold fireplace in the parlor, dimmed by time and dirt. The dining-room wallpaper looked faded, and fragile gossamer webs coated the splotchy brass light fixture above the rickety dining table. Wyatt hoped the comfortable, roomy den and Dodd’s ranch office were in better shape, but the important rooms right now were the kitchen and downstairs bath.
Despite the fact that he and his brothers had run through these rooms like wild boys summer after summer, Wyatt felt as if they were trespassing. A lack of human habitation seemed to have reduced the gracious old house to a shabby pile, and made Wyatt abruptly doubt his plan. Then Ryder pushed through a swinging door into the kitchen, and suddenly Wyatt saw home.
The appliances, cabinets and countertops were hopelessly outdated, and most of the paint had worn off the familiar old rectangular table. Thankfully, however, the room appeared as habitable now as it had the last time Wyatt sat in one of those old ladder-back chairs.
While Ryder checked the water, Jake took Frankie into the bathroom, and Wyatt tried the burner on the big, white stove. Pipes banged as water started flowing. Wyatt struck a match to ignite a tiny flame.
“Looks like we’re low on propane.”
“Pilot light on the hot water heater must be out,” Ryder said, holding his hand beneath the gushing spigot.
“We can heat water on the stove until we can see to it,” Wyatt determined.
Jake returned, Frankie following and hitching up his baggy jeans. “Storage room is full of junk, but everything seems in working order in the bathroom.”
That was good news because unless Uncle Dodd had updated the plumbing, which seemed unlikely, the only shower in the house was in that downstairs bathroom.
“Check the bedrooms,” Wyatt said to Ryder, who strode off at a swift clip for the staircase. “Jake, think you can find a broom?”
Before Jake could even begin to look, the sound of a vehicle arriving turned them both toward the back door.
“Company already?” Jake asked, swinging Frankie up into his arms.
“Folks around War Bonnet are friendly,” Wyatt commented, “but this is ridiculous.” Through the glass inset in the back door, he saw a small, white sedan pull up next to the back stoop. He walked over and threw the deadbolt, relieved that the door swung open easily.
As Wyatt watched, a curvy brunette of average height slid from behind the sedan’s steering wheel. Dressed in a simple gray skirt with a bright pink, sleeveless blouse, she presented a polished, feminine picture. Her short, stylishly rumpled, cinnamon hair framed a perfectly oval face with enormous, copper-colored eyes. Though she seemed oddly familiar, Wyatt couldn’t place her. Maybe she was one of the town kids who the brothers had sometimes played with. Whoever she was, she was lovely.
If this is the War Bonnet welcoming committee, he thought, things are looking up already.
Then she parked her hands on her hips, tossed her cinnamon brown head and demanded, “What are you doing in my house?”
* * *
“Your house?”
After the week she’d had, Tina was in no mood to explain herself, especially not to some big lunk who probably thought he was God’s gift to women. That’s what all the good-looking ones thought, that women should fall at their big feet in stunned silence and stay that way. Well, she’d had enough of biting her tongue and hoping, praying, to be treated fairly. She’d come home—the only place she’d ever thought of as home, anyway—and here was where she intended to stay. Even if the house did look as if might fall down in a stiff breeze.
She reached into the car and grabbed her handbag. “That’s right. My house.” She lifted her chin at the big man in the doorway. “Who are you and why are you here?”
“I’m Wyatt Smith.”
Oh, no. One of the Houston nephews. She should’ve expected this. Another man crowded into the doorway behind the first, a young boy in his arms. Both had the dark Smith hair and eyes. Wyatt slung a thumb at him. “This is my brother Jake and his son, Frankie.”
Wyatt and Jacoby. Well, that was two of the brothers. “I suppose Ryder is also here.”
Wyatt frowned. “Who are you?” he asked, as if he ought to know her, though they’d never met.
“I’m Tina Walker Kemp.”
If the name meant anything to him, he didn’t show it. He folded his arms across an impressively wide chest.
“What makes you think this house is yours, Tina Walker Kemp?”
“I don’t think it,” she said, placing one foot on the sagging bottom step. “I know it. My stepdaddy left me this house.”
“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 (#u3103c487-f866-52c4-b88c-c2e5e984aaaf)
Well, 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.
Dodd had mentioned Walker over the years, even though his marriage to her mother hadn’t lasted long, but Tina Walker hadn’t meant anything to Wyatt, so he’d tuned out the old man whenever he’d started waxing eloquent about the girl. Obviously, he should have paid better attention.
That was in the past, however, and Wyatt had known the only way to settle the current dilemma was to talk to the attorney who had apparently drawn up these ridiculous papers. Using his cell phone, he’d called the number on the will and reached one Callie Billings, the wife of attorney and rancher Rex Billings. Now he and Tina Kemp sat in their warm, homey kitchen sipping coffee and ignoring each other. Callie, as she’d insisted they call her, was a pretty little blonde with a baby boy and a daughter about Frankie’s age playing quietly on the floor. Callie moved about the kitchen with her son perched on her hip, pouring coffee and removing cookies from the oven with one hand.
“Rex should be here any minute,” she said, shifting the baby to the other hip. The front door opened, and Callie smiled brightly.
They heard two thumps, followed by silence. A few seconds later, the swinging door between the dining room and kitchen opened, and a tall, dusty cowboy padded into the space on his stocking feet. The little girl on the floor jumped up and ran to greet him, throwing her arms around his thighs.
“Hello, darlin’.” While Callie went to him, baby and all, he explained the situation. “My boots were filthy so I yanked them off. Now I need to wash my hands.” Holding his hands away from them, he kissed the baby, then his wife.
Wyatt couldn’t help but feel envious. He’d expected to be married and settled into family life by now himself, but somehow it just hadn’t happened. Billings hurried to the sink to wash his hands. Finally, he turned back to the table.
“You must be Wyatt Smith.”
Wyatt stood and put out his hand. “That’s right. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
Shaking hands with Wyatt, Billings glanced at Tina and nodded. He looked to his wife then. “Honey, I’ve been dreaming about your coffee and cookies. Set me up.” He sat down at the table. His daughter crawled up into his lap.
“Daddy, can I hab cookies?”
“Have cookies. What does Mama say?”
“Ask you.”
“Then you can have one cookie.”
“Yay!”
Callie had the cookie wrapped in a napkin by the time Billings set the girl on her feet.
“Sit on your blanket and eat,” Callie instructed gently, as she poured another cup of coffee.
“We were sure sorry to hear about Dodd’s passing,” Billings began as Callie set the coffee in front of him.
“Thank you,” Wyatt and Tina said at the same time.
Wyatt frowned at her. She spoke as if she were Dodd’s next of kin. Then again, Dodd had spoken fondly of her over the years, though if he’d told his nephews nearly as much about her as he had apparently told her about them, they hadn’t been paying attention.
“I was sorry that Dodd left instructions not to have a service,” Billings went on, lifting his coffee cup. “It would have been well attended. He was much liked around War Bonnet.”
“I appreciate you saying so,” Wyatt told the other man, cutting a glance at Tina, who nodded and pressed her lips together as Callie placed a platter of cookies and three small plates in front of them.
“Now,” Billings said, “how can I help you?”
“There seems to be some confusion about my uncle’s will,” Wyatt explained, passing the papers to Billings.
Rex swallowed some coffee and glanced over the papers across the rim of his cup before stacking them on the table at his elbow. “No confusion. Dodd was very certain about what he wanted and how he wanted to do it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Rex shrugged and reached for a cookie. “Your uncle wanted Ms. Kemp to have the house and the mineral rights. You and your brothers get everything else.”
“I told you,” Tina crowed triumphantly. She reached a hand across the table toward Rex. “I’m Tina Walker Kemp, by the way.”
“Not Mrs. Smith, then.”
Both Wyatt and Tina reacted at the same time. “No!”
Billings shot a glance at Wyatt before shaking Tina’s hand. Then he released her and placed some cookies onto plates for her and Wyatt. “Eat up.”
Tina nibbled, but after one bite of cookie, the world as a whole seemed a lot more palatable to Wyatt.
“Mmm. You should market these,” Wyatt told Callie Billings, shaking a cookie at her.
“Don’t even joke about it,” Rex protested. “She has enough to do with me, these kids, my dad and helping her own father run his businesses.”
“If you’re looking to sell Loco Man,” Callie said to Wyatt, “Rex and my dad might be interested in buying. You may know my father. Stuart Westhaven.”
“The banker?”
“Among other things.”
“Beware an ambitious businesswoman,” Rex put in, shaking his head. “Always looking to expand.” He reached out and pulled Callie close to him, kissing her soundly.
Envy knocked around inside Wyatt’s chest again. Unbidden, his gaze stole to Tina Walker Kemp, who stared morosely at her empty plate as if wishing for the return of her cookie or perhaps another. Frowning at himself, Wyatt focused his mind on the subject at hand.
“We’re not interested in selling,” he stated firmly, though once his brothers heard that Tina’s claim was real, they might have other ideas. Blanking his face, he asked, “You wouldn’t know where we might rent a place to stay, would you? There’s four of us, including my nephew, Frankie.”
Rex shook his head. “Not offhand.”
Wyatt grimaced before he could stop himself. “Something affordable to buy, then. Preferably on the east side of town.”
“Lyons might have something for sale.”
“Dix told me they sold that house they remodeled,” Callie put in. “Saw him and Fawn at the grocery store.”
“Well, there’s a realtor in town. He’ll know,” Rex said casually. “I think your uncle was expecting y’all to share, though.”
“Share!” Tina yelped, glaring at Wyatt as if he’d suggested the idea.
“Everyone knows the old house needs some work,” Callie pointed out. She looked to Wyatt then, adding, “Even if you and your brothers aren’t up to that, you could pay rent so Ms. Kemp could afford to hire Lyons and Son.” She smiled at Tina. “They do excellent work, by the way.”
Rent. Wyatt ground his teeth. His business plan didn’t allow for rent, let alone buying a house for himself and his family. He especially did not like the idea of paying rent to live in what was rightly Smith property, but what was the option? Staying in the bunkhouse?
“What about the outbuildings?”
“They’re yours,” Rex told him. “Dodd was very intentional about it. The house and the mineral rights go to Ms. Kemp. Everything else goes to you and your brothers. Technically, you own the ground that the house sits on.”
Well, that tipped the equation in his favor. Wyatt smiled cunningly at Tina Walker Kemp. “Maybe we can work something out.”
She folded her arms mulishly, but Wyatt saw the worry in her big bronze eyes. Suddenly, he wanted to reassure her, promise not to pull the ground out from under her and her son. Literally. But the interested gazes of Rex and Callie Billings squelched the impulse.
Besides, whatever Uncle Dodd’s foolish intentions had been, Wyatt meant to make a home on Loco Man Ranch for himself, his brothers and his nephew—Tina Kemp or no Tina Kemp.
Something told him that she would take nothing less than her due.
So be it.
* * *
Well, wasn’t that just like a man?
Tina had never met a man who could keep his word. In the end, even Daddy Dodd had disappointed her. What did he think he was doing, leaving every square inch of the land to the Smith brothers and only the house that sat upon it to her? All right, the house and the mineral rights, for whatever that was worth.
At this point, she was afraid to hope. Where had hope ever gotten her? As the thought slid through her mind, she quickly followed it with a prayer.
Sorry, Lord. I’m just confused. And frightened. Lord, please, there must be some way to make this work, some way I can keep Tyler with me.
She’d snorted with derision when her ex-husband, Layne, had informed her that he intended to sue for custody of their son. Then his attorney had contacted her, and suddenly the threat had become all too real. Dodd had died only days before. In her grief and panic, she’d gone searching for the copy of the will he’d sent her. At the time, it had seemed as if Dodd had reached down from Heaven and handed her the answer to her problems. She could leave a job that demanded too much of her time and go home to Oklahoma with her son.
She hadn’t given a thought to the land, only to the house. In the back of her mind, she’d sort of assumed that the ranch would go on as it always had, with Dodd’s longtime foreman, Delgado, at the helm and reporting to the nephews. She’d never expected them to leave the big city of Houston, Texas, for the tiny town of War Bonnet, Oklahoma. She certainly hadn’t expected them to take over her house.
She’d decided that she would open a bed-and-breakfast. With the nearest motel room at least 40 miles away, Dodd had often put up folks visiting War Bonnet. That neighborliness was one of the things that her mother, Gina, had disliked so much about small-town life.
Tina smiled wanly at Callie, wishing they had more in common. Perhaps they soon would. Callie obviously placed making a home for her family at the top of her list, but she was also a businesswoman. The fact that Callie and her husband so clearly adored each other was the big difference between her and Tina. Well, that and the fact that Callie’s house wasn’t falling down around her.
Tina wondered if cashing in her small 401(k) to finance this had been wise, but what choice had she had?
Wyatt pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, stretching his hand across the table to Rex. The two men shook as if they were longtime friends.
“We would be most grateful,” Wyatt was saying. “It’s been a long time since I was on a horse, and I’ve never bought a cow in my life.”
“We’re just about through tagging and cutting the calves,” Billings said, hooking his thumbs in the front pockets of his dusty jeans. “Give me another a few days, and we’ll get at solving your livestock problem.”
Callie chuckled. “Be warned. Rex especially loves to shop for horses.”
“No one’s more surprised by that than I am,” Rex told her, hooking an arm about her waist and pulling her close again.
She laughed and said to Wyatt, “My husband has more in common with you than you know, Mr. Smith. He left Tulsa and a stellar law practice to come back here and help out when his father was ill. Then he found that the city no longer had any appeal.”
It was obvious to anyone with eyes what had kept Rex in War Bonnet. Tina wanted to be happy for the couple, but to her shame she found that she could only be envious.
Had Layne ever looked at her like that? She highly doubted it. Why hadn’t she been sensible enough to realize that the only thing about her that had attracted him was her attraction to him?
She had promised herself that she wouldn’t follow in her mother’s footsteps, flitting from husband to husband as if she were a bee darting from flower to flower. Yet, she had been the bee and Layne the flower in their relationship.
She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Thankfully, she had her son, and he was all she needed. She hadn’t been enough for her own mother, and Tina was determined that her son would never feel that cold realization. Her father, whom she’d seen only a few times in her life, was little more than a name to her.
Tina wondered guiltily if she should relent and allow Layne to have custody of Tyler, but then she recalled her ex snarling at her that he would take everything she valued if she dared divorced him. He’d managed it, too, with everything and everyone but their son.
Dazedly, she felt a hand on her elbow. She didn’t remember coming to her feet, but suddenly she realized that their meeting had ended. Wyatt now seemed determined to escort her from the premises. To cover her confusion and dismay, Tina subtly tugged free of him, smiled at their hostess and nodded at Rex before turning toward the door.
“Thank you for your time,” she murmured.
Wyatt held open the door, saying something about paying Rex for the consultation. Thankfully, Rex insisted that no payment was necessary. Relieved, she tried not to look at Wyatt’s big, broad hand as she walked through the door. They moved through the dining and living rooms and into the foyer, Rex following in his stocking feet. Wyatt opened the front door for her. She pushed wide the screen and crossed the porch, stepping down onto the beaten dirt path that ran through the post oaks to the bronze-colored, double-cab pickup truck parked on the side of the red dirt road.
That truck was more luxurious than any vehicle Tina had ever ridden in. An electronic beep signaled that Wyatt had released the locks. Tina yanked open the door and stepped up onto the running board that automatically slid out from beneath the truck. She buckled her safety belt and waited for Wyatt to get in on the driver’s side.
He started the engine and turned on the air conditioning. Then he spoke. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other.”
Stuck. That about summed up her life. She’d been stuck with her mother and then four subsequent stepfathers. No doubt Gina would have added another name to her long list if she hadn’t tripped on the trailing hem of her dressing gown and fallen down a flight of stairs, breaking her lovely neck in the process. That’s what had prompted Tina to accept Layne’s marriage proposal, only to find herself stuck with a handsome chameleon who’d ultimately cheat on her.
She’d left Layne and met with a lawyer the next day. Layne had never again allowed her back into the house. With no choice but to find immediate employment, she’d found herself stuck in the job of secretary to a demanding real estate developer who expected her to toil the same endless hours that he worked.
Now here she was, stuck with the Smith brothers.
“Oh, Lord, why?” she prayed, not realizing that she’d spoken aloud until Wyatt sighed.
“When He answers, be sure to let me know.”
Chapter Three (#u3103c487-f866-52c4-b88c-c2e5e984aaaf)
He didn’t answer. God never seemed to answer her prayers.
She’d prayed that her mother’s marriage to Dodd Smith would last. As easygoing and affable as he was hardworking, Dodd had been Tina’s friend as much as her stepfather. After only nine months, however, Gina had declared herself bored beyond bearing and ended the marriage.
None of her prayers for her own marriage had been fulfilled, either, with one exception. Her son.
Now Layne wanted to take him, too.
For Tyler, she had left Kansas City and come here. For Tyler, she would put up with the Smith brothers and do everything in her power to make this move work.
“I’ll trade you housing for help fixing up the house,” she proposed, glancing from brother to brother.
She had taken a seat at the table in the dusty kitchen. The brothers had positioned themselves around the room. Wyatt leaned against the sink, his arms folded. Jake stood at the edge of the hallway as if listening to his son playing with hers in the laundry room, where the boys were taking turns rolling small cars into the corner of the sadly sloping floor. Ryder had hopped up to sit on the counter between the sink and the stove. Ryder Smith was only a few years her junior, but he had a sweetness about him that made him seem younger.
“I don’t mind helping out,” he said.
Wyatt shot him a glare. Ryder shrugged. “And once the house is fixed up, what then?” Wyatt wanted to know.
Tina lifted her chin. “You’ll need to find other accommodations. I plan to turn this house into a bed-and-breakfast.”
Jake snorted, and Wyatt rolled his eyes. Ryder, however, lifted his head in surprise and blurted, “Well, that makes sense. Uncle Dodd used to take in folks who came to visit family and friends in War Bonnet.”
Tina could have kissed him. She noticed Wyatt again glared at Ryder. She knew instinctively that Wyatt was the brother she had to convince.
“We have a ranch to get going,” he stated flatly. “We don’t have time to remodel an old house.”
“And we’re going to live where while we’re getting the ranch going?” Jake wanted to know.
“We can convert the bunkhouse into our living quarters.” Wyatt turned his glare on Tina. “The outbuildings belong to us.”
“I never said otherwise.”
“Okay,” Jake interjected, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “So, where do we live while we’re converting the bunkhouse? It hasn’t been used in decades, so I doubt there’s even plumbing.”
“Besides, why does it take all three of us to work the ranch when we don’t even have any cattle?” Ryder wanted to know.
“We’ll have cattle soon,” Wyatt insisted, shifting his feet. “Rex Billings is going to help us find the livestock we need, including horses.”
“You and Delgado can handle that, can’t you?” Jake asked. “Meanwhile, I can work on the bunkhouse and Ryder can start putting this place to rights.”
“What do a mechanic and a fight—” He broke off midword and scrubbed a hand over his face, heavily shadowed now with a day’s growth of beard. “What do you and Ryder know about construction?”
“We know as much about carpentry as we do about ranching,” Ryder put in softly. “I don’t say we can do everything that’s needed, but we can do a lot.”
“Actually,” Jake said, “we know more about construction than ranching. You forget that I remodeled my own house while Jolene was deployed and that Ryder worked in construction before...”
Tina glanced between the brothers, first at Ryder’s bowed head, then at Wyatt, who studied his youngest brother with undisguised concern, and back at Jake. She saw sadness in all of them, deep, heavy sadness. But why? Some time ago, Dodd had mentioned that Jake’s wife had died, but Tina sensed something else going on here.
Wyatt shook his head, then he looked at her and nodded. “Fine. Ryder will work for you while Jake takes care of the bunkhouse and I get the ranch started.”
She doubted she would get a better offer. Still... She made a final demand.
“And you agree to deed me the land that the house sits on.”
Wyatt’s dark gaze held hers for several long, tense moments. “We’ll see. I might just buy you out.”
Surprised by the suggestion, Tina again glanced around the room. Apparently, Jake and Ryder were equally surprised.
“What makes you think I’ll agree to that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe you don’t have the money to renovate this old house.”
He was right, but she’d learned a few things over the years, and she did have some connections to draw on. She knew where to find the very best bargains on building supplies and could call in a few favors.
“I’ll manage,” she told him.
“What about meals?” Jake wanted to know.
“I can cook,” Tina drawled, “if that’s what you’re asking.”
Jake looked pointedly at Wyatt, who seemed to require a moment to tamp down his irritation before saying, “We’ll buy the groceries if you’ll cook the meals.”
“Done.”
He waved a hand. “I suggest we figure out who gets what bedroom and settle in.”
Jake pushed away from the wall. “Frankie and I can share.”
“Actually,” Ryder said, “we may all have to share. Some of the rooms are empty of furniture. Two are uninhabitable. The window is missing in one of the rooms, and either the roof leaks or something’s chewed through the ceiling in another.”
Dismayed, Tina gasped. All eyes turned her way.
“What do you mean the window is missing?”
“I mean that it’s gone.” Ryder spread his hands, palms up. “Including the casing.”
“And something chewed through the ceiling?”
“Well, there are tiny teeth marks around the opening.”
Wyatt let loose a long, gusty sigh. “Okay. Get up to the attic and see what you can find. But watch yourself. The last thing we need is for anyone to get hurt. Jake, you and Ms. Kemp look at the other rooms and decide who goes where. I’ll start unloading our gear.”
“Call me Tina,” she corrected. If they were going to be living in the same house, it seemed only right to be on a first-name basis.
Wyatt inclined his head, laying a hand to his chest. “You can call me Wyatt.”
Jake lifted his hand. “It’s Jacoby, but everyone calls me Jake.”
Tina knew this, but she simply nodded.
“And I’m Ryder,” the younger brother said, smiling.
“Dodd told me all about the three of you,” Tina said, smiling in return.
“That’s more than we can say for you,” Wyatt muttered, moving toward the door.
Ignoring him, Tina pushed back her chair and stood. With so much to do and so much at stake, she couldn’t afford to worry about anything else. Time to get to work.
She and Jake spoke to the boys, warning them to stay in the house out of harm’s way while the adults arranged their living quarters. Frankie nodded compliantly, but as usual Tyler argued.
“Why can’t we go outside?”
“Because we haven’t had a chance to look around yet,” Tina told him. “It’s too dangerous until we know the outbuildings are all clear of vermin and the porch is roped off.”
“Aw, I ain’t scared of no vermin,” Tyler sneered.
“You should be,” Jake said. “Rats, squirrels, raccoons and skunks often carry rabies.”
“What’s rabies?”
“A very serious illness,” Jake explained.
“I don’t care,” Tyler grumbled mulishly.
“I hope you don’t mind shots then, because rabies will keep you in the hospital for lots of shots,” Jake informed him.
Tyler frowned, considering this. Finally, he said, “I better make sure Frankie ’n’ me don’t get rabies.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Jake replied gravely, but Tina saw by the twinkle in his dark eyes that he was amused.
“Call out if you need us,” Tina instructed. “We’ll just be upstairs.”
Tyler nodded and went back to rolling the toy car, accompanied by the sound effects of a revving engine and screeching tires. Tina followed Jake from the room, aware that he silently chuckled, his shoulders shaking with mirth.
“Boys,” he commented softly when she fell into step beside him. “I think they’re all born with a certain amount of stubborn pride.”
Tina sighed. “I think Tyler got more than his fair share.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s played well and been very patient with Frankie today.”
She smiled her thanks for that and wondered why it was so much easier to like Jake than his older brother. The same seemed to be true of Ryder. A pity that Wyatt was the better looking one.
Most attractive, least likeable. Thankfully.
The last thing she needed was any sort of romantic entanglement. She had long since vowed that she would not follow her much-married mother’s path. The only thing on her mind now would be creating a safe, stable home for her son. She’d do whatever she had to do to make that happen. Then Layne and his lawyer could take a hike.
Resolved, she accompanied Jake upstairs to see what Herculean tasks awaited her.
* * *
“The last thing we need is possums in the house,” Wyatt muttered, staring at Ryder, who was covered in dust from his head to his shoes. He had cobwebs in his black hair, which he attempted to brush out with his fingers.
They’d all crowded into the upstairs hallway to hear what Ryder had found in the attic. This day just kept getting worse and worse, in Wyatt’s estimation. First they found the house in sorry condition. Then they’d learned that Tina Kemp actually owned the thing. Now they were obligated to help her fix it up, critters included.
“Could be worse,” Ryder reported. “I found evidence of bats.”
Tina surprised Wyatt by letting out a frightened eep. She hugged herself and asked, “Will they come back?”
“Hope not. I’ve blocked every entry point to the attic that I could find, including the hole in the ceiling. I’ll cover up the empty window, and tomorrow I’ll fix the ceiling, but the roof will need to be addressed before long because I also saw evidence of leaks up there.”
Tina muttered something under her breath, but Wyatt chose to ignore it.
“Good work,” he said to Ryder. “You and I can take the room with twin beds. Jake and Frankie can share one of the full beds.” He turned to Tina. “That just leaves you and Tyler.”
“We’ll share my old room for now. There’s only a twin bed, but I can make up a pallet on the floor.”
Wyatt had brought up her many suitcases, so he now carried them to the room with the pink gingham wallpaper, making two trips. Some of the bags had to stay out in the hall.
“I can’t vouch for the bedding,” he told her, as she began positioning suitcases around the room and opening them.
“I brought my own.”
“Thank God,” he said. “All we brought are sleeping bags, and I doubt Jake would want to share one with Frankie even for a single night. Kid’s a mini tornado in his sleep, all flailing arms and legs.” He chuckled, thinking of the nights he’d spent with Frankie when both Jake and Jolene had been deployed. If not for the overwhelming relief of having his brother return safely from the war zone, Wyatt might have been jealous of his brother for taking Frankie home with him. Then Jolene had been killed in a training exercise just weeks after returning home, and Wyatt’s envy had turned to grief.
Tina looked at Wyatt, her expression solemn. “Are you the kind of man who normally thanks God?” she asked.
Wyatt blinked and nodded. “I am.” To his surprise, her coppery gaze softened a bit before she turned away, a pair of worn jeans and a faded red tank top in her hands.
“Good to know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to change. Then we can strip the beds and haul the mattresses outside to beat the dust out of them.”
Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Of course.” He backed out of the room and caught Jake by the elbow as he was heading downstairs, informing him of their latest chore.
While he and Jake manhandled the mattresses down to the porch to whack the dust out of them, Tina wiped down and swept out all seven rooms upstairs. Thankfully, she found additional bedsheets in the linen closet at the end of the hall. After tumbling them in the dryer to remove dust and anything else that might have found its way into the folds, she made up the beds. In the end, the sleeping bags weren’t needed, so Wyatt had her use those to make a comfortable pallet for Tyler.
Unfortunately, the dryer repeatedly threw the breaker in the outdated junction box in the laundry room. Worse, more than one outlet sparked noticeably when they tried to use it. So, after the sheets were refreshed, they turned off the electricity. Considering the poor wiring, a portable generator—if they could even find one—didn’t seem wise.
“Guess I’d better put an electrician at the top of my list,” Tina said tiredly as the waning sun threw shadows across the room.
“Looks like it,” Wyatt agreed. “We can manage with flashlights for a while. Tomorrow I’ll order some propane and see about changing the utilities into—”
“My name,” Tina said flatly, dropping down onto the chair.
Wyatt sighed but remained silent.
“For the record,” she went on, looking as weary as Wyatt felt, “I intend to divide two of the bedrooms upstairs into bathrooms. That will leave five bedrooms, though I intend to turn one of those into a sitting room that can be shared by the back two bedrooms. Just so you know.”
“That leaves just four bedrooms for six people.”
“Eventually, Tyler and I will sleep downstairs.”
“In what? The den?”
“The den can be divided,” she pointed out. “It’s an enormous room. And there’s the junk room.”
Man, he hated this added complication. He and his brothers already had enough to deal with. They didn’t need all this confusion, what with rooms being divided all over the house.
Lord, show me how to get through this, he silently prayed. Don’t let me say and do things I’ll regret. We need the ranch to work for us.
“Is there any food?” Tina asked, running a hand through her thick, spiky hair. “If so, I’ll start supper as soon as the water is heated.”
She had two huge pots of water on the stove for the boys’ baths, but the adults would have to make do with cold showers tonight.
“I’m afraid there’s not much here,” Wyatt informed her. She looked too tired to cook, anyway, but he didn’t say so. “Jake offered to head into town to pick up burgers for supper, if that’s all right with you.”
“Works for me. I’ll hit the grocery store tomorrow and buy some food.”
Wyatt’s stomach applauded that plan. He just hoped she could actually cook. If not, they’d be back to living on canned goods, cereal and the limited fare from the town’s single eatery. Wyatt had fond memories of the old diner, but he wouldn’t want to eat there three times a day.
“You didn’t seem to bring much in the way of housekeeping supplies,” Ryder commented, rubbing his dark head with a thin towel.
She shook her head, her short chestnut hair flopping over her eyes. Pushing aside the glossy strands, she said, “Didn’t have much to bring, but surely Dodd left enough pots and pans to see us fed.”
“I wouldn’t count on it, but we should have everything you need,” Wyatt told her, heading toward the bathroom. “In fact, I don’t know where we’re going to put all the furniture.”
“You’re moving in furniture?” Tina squawked in obvious surprise.
Actually, they had enough furniture for two households, but he kept that information to himself for the moment.
“Don’t get in a huff,” he said, coming to a halt. “The moving company will store our things until the bunkhouse is ready. You’ll have plenty of room for your furniture.” That came off as surly, which was not his intention. Before he could soften his remarks, however, she wearily lifted the back of her forearm to her brow.
Sighing, she muttered, “I don’t have any furniture. This is it for us.”
Wyatt frowned. “What? Not even a TV?”
She shook her head again. “Nearly everything was rented, and what wasn’t, I sold.”
Suddenly, Wyatt felt guilty because he’d silently grumbled that she’d brought more suitcases than he and his family together.
“Besides,” she said, keeping her gaze averted, “I didn’t have room for anything else.”
That was the truth. The car had been stuffed. He’d assumed that the bulk of her goods would follow, but now he remembered something she’d said earlier.
One man has already taken me for everything I owned, and I’ll never let that happen again.
Apparently, she’d left her marriage with very little. Wyatt had been under the impression that belongings were divided equitably during a divorce. Maybe she and her husband hadn’t acquired much, but she and her ex should have had at least four or five years to acquire a few furnishings.
Had her ex sent her and her son into the world without the necessities? Wyatt frowned at the thought. Not that it was any of his business. Besides, he disliked the curiosity that her situation aroused in him. In fact, he disliked her, though he couldn’t honestly say why.
This situation wasn’t her fault, after all. When it came right down to it, what she did with this house was no business of his. The house and everything in it belonged to her. But what on earth had Dodd been thinking when he’d created this mess?
Wyatt hurriedly showered and dressed. He decided not to shave, despite his scruffy appearance. Staying clean-shaven was a near impossibility with his heavy beard, and he wasn’t eager to attempt a smooth shave with cold water. Plus, with daylight fading, he needed to leave time for the others to clean up.
Tina was next and dressed in fresh jeans and a baggy T-shirt. With her hair wet and her subtle makeup scrubbed away, she could have passed for sixteen. For the first time, her hair looked as dark as her gracefully arched brows.
She had the most amazing skin he’d ever seen. Her big, almond-shaped eyes were a bright shade of light brown, somewhere between amber and copper. Wyatt had to work at not staring.
Relieved when she went back into the bathroom to scrub the tub, he got Frankie ready for his bath. Then he helped Ryder carry in the hot water and fill the tub. After adding cool water to achieve the perfect temperature, Tina bathed the boys together and dressed them in pajamas.
With his dad gone to get dinner, Frankie crawled up into Wyatt’s lap at the old kitchen table while Tina scrubbed the table top. The odd domesticity of the situation felt both peculiar and satisfying at the same time.
He hadn’t shared a house with a woman in the nearly twenty years since his mother, Frances, had died, leaving him a fifteen-year-old with younger brothers, aged ten and five, to care for. Their father had been devastated after the auto accident that had taken his wife. Once he’d recovered from his own injuries, Albert Smith had buried himself in work and grief. The job of raising his younger brothers had chiefly fallen to Wyatt. Long before a heart attack had taken their father, almost six years ago now, Wyatt had assumed the role of family patriarch.
Jake’s wife, Jolene, had been the only significant female influence to enter the Smith realm in all the years since Frances’s death. As a soldier, Jolene had been as much warrior as woman in Wyatt’s estimation, so in many ways, she’d felt like one of the guys.
He couldn’t think of Tina Kemp that way.
It would be best then, Wyatt told himself, if he didn’t think of Tina at all.
As he entertained Frankie, Wyatt surreptitiously watched as Tina ruffled her damp hair with a towel. Women with short hair didn’t usually appeal to him, but Tina couldn’t have appeared more feminine.
The woman wasn’t just lovely—she was a beauty, which meant that this living arrangement was going to be a real trial.
Chapter Four (#u3103c487-f866-52c4-b88c-c2e5e984aaaf)
Jake finally returned home with supper, and Tina set out everything and got the boys situated at the table. Tall for his age, Tyler required no help reaching his food. Frankie, however, needed a lift. She found a small plastic tub sturdy enough to serve as a booster seat.
According to his brothers, Jake was famous for his hot showers, so no one was surprised that he came out shivering in his jeans and white T-shirt. Wyatt and Ryder laughed at him, bantering about bathing conditions in Afghanistan and the average military barracks. Tina was not surprised to learn that Jake was former military. Something in his manner marked him as a soldier; yet, Wyatt remained the undisputed head of this family.
Once they were all seated, Wyatt bowed his head. Tina froze in the act of unfolding the paper wrappings on her burger. She caught Tyler’s glance and put her hands together to show him that they were going to pray, something she’d let slide recently. Frankie obviously had been through this routine many times. Folding his chubby hands, he bowed his little head along with his father and uncles.
Wyatt glanced up at her. “Uh, would you like to say grace?”
Tina took the opportunity to prompt her son. “Tyler, maybe you’d like to pray over our meal tonight.”
Grimacing, Tyler bowed his head and intoned the familiar words. “God is great. God is good. Thank You, Lord, for this food. And maybe we can go back home soon. Amen.”
“We are home, son,” Tina corrected softly.
That unenthusiastic prayer stuck in Tina’s head as she ate her meal and the Smith brothers talked over the next day’s plans. With the house a wreck and the cattle gone, she couldn’t help wondering why they were even here. She thought about explaining her own situation and appealing to the brothers’ compassion in the hope that they would simply return to Texas. In truth, however, she needed their help. Actually, if not for Wyatt, she’d be quite happy with the situation.
What was it about him, she wondered, that disturbed her so?
It didn’t matter. She couldn’t see any option other than to follow through with her plan. Maybe Wyatt would be too busy with the ranch to waste time making her life difficult.
Vain hope, that. He was a man, wasn’t he?
On the other hand, despite the fiasco of the wills, Daddy Dodd had been a caring, stalwart friend when she’d most needed one. Maybe his nephews were more like him than first impressions had indicated.
Strange, but that thought brought neither hope nor relief. She could only pray that Wyatt would be so diligent about getting the ranch into shape that he stayed out of her business. Too weary to worry about it, she and Tyler retreated to their room as soon as it was dark. She slept surprisingly well, waking far later than usual to find Ryder frying eggs and bacon that Jake had journeyed back into town to purchase. Thankfully, Wyatt had already departed on ranch business, according to Ryder, who had no idea when Wyatt would return. Tina silently thanked God for that small blessing, and sat down with pencil and paper to discuss with Ryder what repairs were most urgently needed.
* * *
Wyatt shook the dusky hand of the man he had ever only known as Delgado. Relief bolstered his hope. They’d agreed to meet at the diner in War Bonnet, where both had enjoyed a decent breakfast and excellent coffee, while ignoring the obvious interest of the locals. They’d quickly come to terms about Delgado’s continued employment.
“I’m very glad to get you back at Loco Man,” Wyatt said as he pushed through the glass door to the sidewalk.
“I am glad again to work for a Smith,” Delgado replied.
The smiling vaquero’s once dark hair had turned to a dull salt-and-pepper shade that would soon be more salt than pepper, but he’d maintained his lean, ropy strength.
“Do you have time to drive around the ranch with me?” Wyatt asked. “Rex Billings has offered to take me to a sale barn in Tulsa to purchase horses in a few weeks, so we can’t ride.”
“Yeah, sí,” Delgado said with a grin. “We take my old truck. No reason to batter yours. No one better with horseflesh than a Billings, but we had ATVs in the barn, unless Dodd sold those, too.”
“There are two,” Wyatt confirmed, falling into step beside the ranch foreman, “but they don’t seem to run.”
“They pro’ly just need gas and spark plugs,” Delgado surmised.
“I’ll have Jake look at them. He’s our mechanic. Meanwhile, your truck will do fine.”
This wouldn’t be his first time riding with Delgado behind the wheel. Crazy as it seemed, he’d once taken the passenger seat as Delgado had raced his battered old truck across a bumpy pasture while Uncle Dodd had roped a particularly troublesome stud from the truck bed. That was not a feat Wyatt intended to repeat, but because of it he had no qualms about letting Delgado take the wheel.
“Meet me at the house,” Wyatt instructed, “and we’ll go from there.”
“Yeah, sí.”
Wyatt chuckled at the familiar double assent. As a young boy, he’d assumed that ya-sí was the Spanish word for yes. Only later had he realized that Delgado frequently spoke in a combination of English and Spanish.
A few hours later, neither of them could manage a smile. As he brought the dusty old pickup truck to a stop beside the house, Delgado’s expression registered as much confusion as Wyatt’s. Dimly, Wyatt noted that in the intervening hours Ryder had repaired the floor of the porch, rehung the front door and replaced the broken glass pane. Wyatt’s immediate concern, however, was the puzzling condition of the ranch.
They’d driven past fenced acreages sown in what appeared to be a variety of grasses. Those large plots, some of them thirty and forty acres, didn’t even have gates to let cattle in to graze. Some were irrigated with portable, aboveground systems powered by rackety old windmills. Some were not.
“Was Dodd experimenting?” Wyatt mused. “Could he have been trying to figure out which grass was most hardy and would best support cattle?”
Delgado shrugged and shook his head. “He never say. When the worms got the cattle, some had to be put down. The rest we treat and sell. Then he start dragging in old windmills and drilling wells. ‘Times change,’ he say. And he start the grass, many kinds. He hire that Pryor kid to do it, the one with the farming equipment. And we build fence roun’ the grass.”
“Fences without gates,” Wyatt murmured. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Some say he lost his mind,” Delgado reported bluntly, “that he was loco like his great-grandfather, but I think no.”
The legend was that Wyatt’s great-great-grandfather had illegally paid others during the land rush to stake claims to the vast acreage that eventually became the Smith ranch. Then, when authorities called him on the scheme, he’d pretended not to understand the problem, no matter how it was explained to him, leading others to label him loco or insane. Wyatt somehow doubted that a reputation for insanity would have swayed the authorities, even back then, to simply allow Great-Great-Grandpa Smith to keep his ill-gotten gains. Nevertheless, he’d named the ranch Loco Man, with an apparent tongue-in-cheek reference to the rumors.
“I just wish I knew what Dodd was thinking,” Wyatt admitted on a sigh.
“So, we run cattle at Loco Man again, yeah, sí?” Delgado asked.
“We are most definitely going to run cattle at Loco Man again,” Wyatt confirmed, “but there’s a lot to be done before we can stock up. I think I’ll talk to this Pryor fellow to see if he knows what Dodd was up to.”
“Rex Billings, he’ll tell you how to find Pryor. He marry Billings’ sister.”
So, Pryor was Rex’s brother-in-law. That was welcome news.
After Delgado left, Wyatt walked into the main house to find Tina scrubbing a huge cast-iron skillet. She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and jerked her head at the old ice chest on the floor.
“If you’re hungry, I made some sandwiches. There’s fruit on the table and chips in the pantry.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
“The cooler has iced tea, too. I didn’t sweeten it, but there’s a sugar bowl next to the fruit bowl.”
Wyatt didn’t offer an opinion on that. Every real Texan knew that tea had to be sweetened while it was hot. He guessed they did things differently where Tina was from. After tasting the tea, though, he decided he could tolerate it unsweetened, as it was surprisingly mellow. He sat at the table and ate his lunch, pondering Dodd’s actions and trying not to watch Tina as she vigorously scoured the heavy pan. Finally, she rinsed the skillet and transferred it to a flame on the stove, which flared considerably higher than the day before.
“Guess the propane delivery came,” Wyatt said between bites of his ham sandwich.
She dried her hands with a towel, glancing at him. “It did.”
“How bad was it?” he asked.
She pulled a folded piece of paper from the hip pocket of her jeans and showed it to him. He lifted his eyebrows and made an executive decision.
“We’ll split the bill with you.”
Tina blinked at that. “You will?”
“Seems to me we ought to be sharing all the utilities. And paying for groceries. At least so long as we’re sharing the house.”
“I’m not going to argue with that.”
He bit his tongue to keep from blurting out how much that surprised him. Somehow he’d expected her to argue about every little thing, even when it worked to her advantage. Finishing his sandwich, he plucked an orange from the bowl on the table and sat back in his chair to peel it.
“Where are the boys?”
“Giving Ryder headaches, I imagine,” she replied. “He was supposed to put Frankie down for a nap before patching the ceiling in that one bedroom. I told Tyler not to tag along with them, but Ryder said he didn’t mind. Since Tyler and I are going to start his homeschooling tomorrow, I let it go.”
Wyatt nodded, unconcerned but puzzled. Ryder was good with Frankie. He didn’t see why Ryder couldn’t handle Tyler, too. On the other hand, he didn’t understand why Tina didn’t give the War Bonnet elementary school a chance. She had more than enough to do without adding homeschooling to the ever-growing list.
“I’ve always understood that the school here in War Bonnet is above average, with small classes, dedicated teachers and a solid curriculum. There was a time my folks thought about moving up here so my brothers and I could attend this school. If Dad’s business hadn’t taken off so well, I think they might’ve done it.”
After his mom’s death, his dad had almost sent him and his brothers here to live with Dodd. Wyatt would have welcomed that, but even at fifteen he’d understood that sending them away would have meant the end of Al Smith. Their dad had needed them as much as they’d needed him, so Wyatt had argued against the plan and promised to take on more responsibility than a fifteen-year-old ever should.
He wasn’t certain that it had made any real difference in the end. It seemed to him that all Albert had ever done was go through the motions until he’d just given up. Sort of like Tina was doing right now. She pretended great interest in the condition of the worn wooden countertops, scrubbing them with a rag, though they already looked cleaner than Wyatt had ever seen them.
“Semester’s already half-through,” she said, industriously rubbing away with that limp rag.
“What difference does that make? At least Tyler would have a chance to make friends his own age.”
“I know what’s best for my own son,” she snapped, whirling around to confront him.
Wyatt held up his hands in surrender. “I just wondered, that’s all.”
“Well, don’t,” she muttered, turning back to her task. At the last moment, she gave it up, tossing the rag into the sink.
Changing the subject, Wyatt asked, “Did Dodd say anything to you about planting grass?”
“Grass?” she echoed uncertainly. “Not that I recall. Why?”
Wyatt explained about the fenced fields of grass and the windmills. She shook her head.
“That doesn’t make a bit of sense.”
“Doesn’t seem to, but Dodd usually knew what he was about.”
She parked her hands on the edge of the counter behind her. “Like leaving you the land and me the house that sits on it?” she drawled sarcastically.
Maybe the old man had been losing it, after all. Wyatt pushed back his chair. “Think I’ll head over to the Billings place and see if anyone there has a clue.”
“Supper at six,” Tina told Wyatt, as he made for the door, “and it’s flashlights again tonight. Electrician can’t come until tomorrow.”
“At least there’s hot water,” he pointed out, pushing through the screen door, giving Tina one last surreptitious look before walking outside.
Why couldn’t he seem to stop staring at the woman? He saw women every day who he barely noticed. Now the prickliest one he’d ever encountered, the one who’d messed up all his carefully designed plans, had him gawking like a teenage boy.
Lord, whatever You’re doing here, he prayed silently as he strode for his truck, I wish You’d let me in on it.
God brought nothing to mind, however, as Wyatt drove toward Straight Arrow Ranch, so he supposed he’d just have to muddle through as best he could.
He caught Rex finishing up his lunch. His father, Wes, was there, along with the very fellow Wyatt most wanted to see.
Dean Pryor was a tall, muscular, fair-haired man with a ready smile. Wyatt could see why Delgado had referred to him as a boy. He had a sense of relaxed fun about him that was usually associated with carefree children. Still, no one could doubt Pryor’s maturity or resist the sparkle of his blue eyes. Wyatt imagined that he was just the sort to charm every woman he met. He happily answered Wyatt’s every question.
Unfortunately, Dean didn’t have any idea why Dodd had hired him to sow grasses on the property, five varieties in all, especially as every site had been covered with natural grass already standing tall. The selections of sites and grasses had been well planned, however. Dodd had made sure that those varieties that most needed water had water available. The more drought-resistant varieties had gone in where no immediate water source was located.
“I thought he might be cooperating with a government test,” Pryor reported, “but when I suggested that, he just about doubled over laughing.”
“Did he explain why he fenced the grass fields?”
Pryor spread his broad, capable hands. “I didn’t know he had.”
No one else around the table seemed to have any answers for him.
“Boys, we better get back at it,” Wes interjected before taking a final slug of his coffee. “I’ve got a list a mile long of things to get done before the wedding.”
Wyatt glanced at Dean, though he definitely recalled Delgado saying that Pryor had already married Rex’s sister. As if he knew what Wyatt was thinking, Dean grinned.
“Don’t look at me. I’m married and got two kids already.”
Everyone laughed. Wes raised his hand, saying, “I’m the groom. Y’all think you’re so funny.”
“Dad roped and tied the local doc,” Rex chortled.
“Don’t let Alice hear you say that,” Callie scolded. “She’ll rope, tie and sedate you.”
“I’ll be all for it by the time we get these calves cut,” Rex declared, pushing up to his feet.
Dean, too, rose. “I might as well get back to playing cowboy before my wife comes looking for a babysitter.”
“You picked a good day. It’s Wednesday. We’ll have to knock off early for prayer meeting tonight,” said Wes.
“Stark might be able to pitch in,” Rex suggested. “Why don’t I give him a call?”
“Stark Burns is the busiest man I know,” Wes said, shaking his head. “Even if that daughter of mine has slowed him down a notch or two.”
“Wait,” Wyatt interjected, pointing at Dean. “I thought he was married to your daughter.”
“I’ve got two daughters,” Wes said with a big grin. “Three, counting Callie here.”
She went on tiptoe to kiss her father-in-law’s cheek.
“If you need a hand, maybe I can help out,” Wyatt volunteered.
“You know anything about cutting calves?” Rex asked.
“Not really,” Wyatt admitted, “but I ought to, and I’m a fast learner.”
“Can you ride and rope?” Wes asked.
“That I can do, but I might be a bit rusty.”
“You’re hired,” Rex decreed. “We’ve got a bumper crop of bull calves this year, and the sooner we make ’em steers, the sooner they’ll fatten up for market.”
“I can call our ranch foreman, Delgado, to come over if you like.”
“Now, why didn’t we think of Delgado?” Rex asked.
The men all headed for the door, Wes joking, “I’m getting married soon. I’ve got enough on my mind. Why didn’t you think of Delgado? You’re the brains of the operation.”
“Y’all heard him, boys,” Rex bantered. “I am the official head of the Billings brain trust. Just remember that.”
They were stomping into boots and reaching for hats in the foyer when Wyatt pulled out his cell phone to call Delgado. While he waited for the other man to answer, Rex glanced at the hat pegs on the wall, asking, “Where’s your hat? You’re gonna need it.”
“Oh, I don’t have one,” Wyatt admitted, breaking off when Delgado finally answered. Wyatt explained the situation and heard the delight in his foreman’s voice as he agreed to hurry over to the Billings ranch. “He’s on his way,” Wyatt announced, sliding the small phone back into his pocket. He looked up to find Wes and Rex standing with piles of battered cowboy hats in their hands.
“Let’s try this one,” Wes said, passing a stained, cream-colored hat to Wyatt.
After a moment, Wyatt realized he was meant to try on the hat. Unfortunately, it wobbled atop his head like a crown.
“Too small,” Rex announced, plucking the hat off and pushing it into the bottom of his stack. “Maybe the straw.” He plunked it onto Wyatt’s head. Wyatt pushed it up out of his eyes.
“Too big,” Wes decided. “Let’s go with the old silver belly.”
Tired and more than a bit floppy, the once handsome hat nestled down onto Wyatt’s head as if made just for him.
“That’s the one,” Rex announced.
“It’ll keep the sun from baking you, at least,” Wes said, “but the satin lining’s not exactly cool.”
“Good thing it’s not full summer yet,” Dean put in, grinning as he pulled a baseball cap from his hip pocket and slung it onto his head.
“How come you get away with that?” Wyatt asked, only half teasing.
“Aw, I only wear cowboy hats to impress my wife,” Dean said, “and that thing you’re wearing would surely not do it.”
They all walked out laughing, but Wyatt couldn’t help thinking that a cowboy hat, even an old droopy one, surely made a man stand just a little prouder. As he strode along in the company of these men, Wyatt felt a surprising twinge of guilt at not calling to explain the situation to Tina. Then again, he decided, he hadn’t promised to help repair the house. He was doing exactly what they’d agreed he’d do.
For some reason, he thought of her scrubbing that old skillet with such vigor. Then he pictured Callie Billings moving around her comfortable kitchen, and a pang of something like regret or disappointment struck him midchest. Ridiculous.

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