hurt expressions, it was obvious neither child understood their father’s sudden absence. And Molly wasn’t doing a very good job covering for him. She wasn’t even sure she should try.
A huge crack split across her heart and she thought it might break in two. The twins were such sweet children. She loved them with the heart of a mother. How could Ned have left them without even saying goodbye?
In his note, he’d claimed that the girls reminded him too much of Penelope. There had been more in his note, hints at other reasons, but the part about his daughters resembling his wife had stuck out for Molly. It was true that the twins favored their mother, but they had a lot of Ned in them, as well.
“Your father might have left home for a while.” She chose her words carefully, silently praying to the Lord for guidance. “But I know he loves you very much.”
Sarah’s expression turned serious. “We love him, too.”
Anna nodded feverishly.
Sighing, Molly stood, reached for their hands. “Let’s get you some breakfast and then we’ll—”
The door swung open and in stormed an angry range cook, sputtering and mumbling incoherent words under his breath.
“Where’s the note?” Cookie demanded. “I want to see it.”
Releasing the girls’ hands, Molly moved quickly toward the grizzled old man glaring at her from the doorway. With a full head of white hair that stuck out from every angle, and a girth as wide as he was tall, Lawrence Robbins—“Cookie” to everyone who knew him—looked as furious as he sounded.
But he was more bark than bite, and Molly wasn’t intimidated in the least. She was, however, determined to keep him from saying something inappropriate in front of the twins.
“Good morning to you, too, Cookie. The girls and I were just about to sit down to breakfast.” She looked pointedly at the children in an attempt to remind him to monitor his speech.
Moving deeper into the house, he parked two beefy paws on his sizable hips. “Ned’s really done it this time. That good-for-nothing, worthless excuse of a—”
“The children,” Molly growled, placing a hand on his shoulder, “are standing right here.”
As if her words finally registered, Cookie’s cheeks turned a bright red. “Oh, right. I, uh...” He started backing toward the door as fast as his pudgy feet could carry him. “I’ll come back another time.”
“I’d rather you stay a moment.” She could use an ally. For all his blustering and uncensored opinion giving, Cookie was trustworthy, loyal and loved the twins with the devotion of a kindly grandfather. “The note is on the table beside the sofa.”
He picked up the piece of paper and scanned the words in silence. When he looked up again, his expression was even more furious than before. But then he glanced over at the girls and his stern features melted into a look of compassion. “Poor little things.”
Molly’s sentiments exactly.
“I’ll stick close to the house all day. You need anything, anything at all, you just ring the bell and I’ll come running.”
“Thank you, Cookie.”
Eyes luminous with sympathy, he ruffled Sarah’s hair, then Anna’s, then headed for the door. By the time it shut behind him, Molly had the girls seated at the table and the eggs frying in the skillet.
She might not be able to bring either of their parents back, but she could feed Sarah and Anna a satisfying breakfast. For as long as she had the honor, she would care for the twins to the best of her ability and love them with her whole heart.
The rest she would leave up to the Lord.
* * *
CJ returned to the ranch later that afternoon bone-tired from a full day on the range. The cattle, more than five hundred of them, had been successfully moved to the north pasture, where they would fill their bellies with fresh grass. Getting them to their new grazing area had been hot, dirty work.
Ordinarily, he would be pleased with all he and his men had managed to get done in a single day. But Ned’s absence had been felt. CJ was short on manpower, and he could have used his brother’s help moving the herd.
Mouth set in a grim line, CJ pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes. His three ranch hands dismounted ahead of him and guided their horses into the barn. He followed them at a slower pace, his gaze roaming over his domain.
Most days, he was proud of all he’d accomplished. With the guidance of his neighbor, Edmund McKay, CJ had learned solid ranching skills and had been able to turn his struggling spread into a modest success.
Now, he considered the cost of that single-minded focus. Perhaps if he’d tried harder to understand the extent of Ned’s grief, CJ could have saved his brother.
Too late, a small voice whispered inside his head.
Frowning, CJ led Scout into the barn, removed the horse’s tack, then picked up a brush off the shelf where hoof picks, files and clippers were neatly organized. He began making slow sweeps across the horse’s back.
What could he have done differently with Ned?
CJ had known his brother was tipping back the bottle. Every time he tried to talk to him, Ned would promise there wasn’t anything to worry about. He always stopped at one drink. The fact that Ned’s drinking never interfered with his duties on the ranch had been enough for CJ to believe the claim. Until recently.
Ned’s behavior had become more sporadic in the past two weeks. CJ had been worried enough to confront him. But his brother had refused to admit there was a problem.
Like father like son.
Letting out a hiss of frustration, CJ moved to the other side of the horse and resumed grooming the animal. He’d been hoping, even praying, that something would happen to make Ned realize his drinking was getting out of hand.
Ned must have finally admitted the truth to himself. His solution was to abandon his family. Of all the routes his brother could have taken, CJ had not expected that one.
Was it his fault Ned left? Had he run off his own brother?
Whatever the reason, he’d failed Ned. That was irrefutable. Despite evidence to the contrary, CJ worried that the same weak character in his father—and now his brother—lurked inside him, as well. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t tried very hard to find a wife.
CJ wasn’t convinced he’d make a good husband. He’d recently turned to Edmund McKay with his fears. His friend had asked him a simple question: “You ever tempted to drown your sorrows in a bottle?”
His response had been immediate. He’d never once felt the urge. Still, he was a Thorn. All Thorn men eventually broke. And CJ had never really been tested. When that day came, would he discover the same lack of character?
Anna and Sarah deserved a father who would protect them and keep them safe. What did CJ know about raising little girls?
With more force than necessary,
