The Rancher's Texas Twins

“That must have been hard,” Gabe offered.

She didn’t answer, simply nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he tried again, even though it felt intrusive and inadequate. Gabe was all too familiar with how rejection brewed a slow, sour kind of pain, one that was deep and hard to shake. “I think maybe Cyrus regretted it in the end, if that helps.”

She gave a lifeless laugh. “It doesn’t.”

Gabe walked over beside her, putting one boot up on the lower rung of the porch rail. It made him think of the chorus of “Mr. Boots!” he’d heard all afternoon, and he felt the surprise of a smile curl up the corners of his mouth. “It’s why the boys ranch is so important, you know.”

“The bumper crop of lousy parents in the world?”

It was becoming clear that Avery Culpepper rarely minced words. In that way, she was a lot like her grandfather—not that he’d be foolish enough to point that out at the moment. “Sure, some parents are lousy,” Gabe replied. “Some are just gone. And some just plain don’t have it in them. More helpless than mean.”

“No one has the right to abandon a child. I’d bleed to the last drop before I’d walk away from my girls.” She didn’t say “like their father did,” but Gabe felt it hang in the air just the same.

“That’s the way it should be. Only it doesn’t always happen that way, does it? The kids at the ranch did nothing wrong—well, some of them have acted out in bad ways, but you know what I mean. They didn’t set their lives up badly, but things haven’t worked out for them just the same. And that’s not fair.”

“I suppose not. I never felt much of life was fair, to tell you the truth.”

“It isn’t. That’s what keeps me working for the boys ranch. Every boy we house and counsel is one less man who grows up hauling a ball of hate around.” Even as he spoke the words, Gabe wondered if he really believed them. After all, he’d been a resident at the ranch some twenty-odd years ago, and the ball of hate was still following him around like a lead shadow.

Avery leaned up against the thick porch column, her arms still wrapped around her chest. “I didn’t ask to be the only thing saving the Culpepper land from becoming a strip mall. I can’t say for certain that I can stay all the way until the twentieth.”

“I understand you need to do what’s best for you and your girls. But that doesn’t change how much we need your cooperation. Think about it this way—if you’d had a girls ranch to go to instead of that long string of foster homes, would things have turned out differently for you?”

She didn’t reply, which told Gabe he’d perhaps made his point, so he went on. “The boys ranch is a good thing. It’s worth expanding.” Gabe planted his hands on top of the porch rail and looked out in the direction where the ranch lay beyond a line of trees. If he could just get her there, even once, it would help to convince her.

“And while I wish old Cyrus would have been nice enough to help that without all these hijinks, I’ve got to take his help the way it came.”

Avery’s dark laugh returned. “‘Hijinks.’ That’s one way to put it.” She ran one hand through the neat fringe of brown hair that framed her round face. “You know, those messages and emails from Darcy Hill just about knocked me over. I didn’t know what to think. It’s a crazy scheme, even you have to admit that. I only decided to come on the hopes I’d get some answers. Or maybe I came half out of curiosity. Or amusement.” She paused for a long moment, then added, “I didn’t count on it hurting so much, you know?”

Gabe shifted his gaze to her, startled by the admission. “How so?”

“To walk around here and see this picture postcard of a little town. To know I could have been here rather than those dumps of foster homes if only he’d...” Her words fell off and she turned away. “Like I said, I know it’s not very Christian of me, but I hate him.”

Up until this moment, Gabe hadn’t been able to fathom what would allow Avery to walk away from a possible inheritance. Here he’d thought it was just the frustration of living under Roz Sackett’s glare, that getting her here would solve everything and be worth the chaos he’d just launched upon his household.

That wasn’t the half of it. What was eating Avery Culpepper was so much more than just squirrelly twins. Cyrus Culpepper cast a long, cold shadow here in Haven, and he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to spend any time in it. Neither her nor her girls. It was, as Pastor Walsh would put it, “a God-sized problem” of history and pain.

History and pain. The world was flooded with it. He’d lived it, she’d lived it. The boys ranch fought against it, one young life at a time. How do I solve this, Lord? How can I override twenty years of a dead man’s neglect? I’ve got to find a way. Gabe pleaded to the heaven he’d once imagined hid behind the veil of stars. Somehow he’d have to convince this woman to set aside the mountain of pride and pain she clearly carried while trying to make his own grandfather appear out of thin air.

A God-sized problem indeed.

* * *

Avery groped her way toward the kitchen coffeemaker Wednesday morning, every bone aching from lack of sleep. How had the girls managed to be so sleepless and fidgety well into the wee hours after such an eventful day?

“Oh, dear,” said Marlene as she stood slicing bread at the counter. “You don’t look like you’ve slept a wink.”

“I think it was three...four, maybe, by the time the both of them finally nodded off for good.” Avery didn’t even have the energy to stifle her yawn. “I thought they’d be exhausted. I sure am.”

Marlene looked crestfallen. “They didn’t like their beds?”

“Oh, they love them. I think the changes of location keep knocking them for a bit of a loop. By one a.m. I had both of them crawling in bed with me, all kicking and sprawling and fidgety.” She spooned sugar into the strong-smelling brew. “It was like sleeping with a pair of mules on espresso.”

That made Marlene laugh. “I was sure Jethro and I had worn them out. We tried.”

The older couple really had gone out of their way to play with Dinah and Debbie, especially after supper, when Avery felt drained from the stresses of the day. “At least they’re still out cold, the little darlings. My bed is up against the wall, so when I smelled coffee, I propped up a few pillows on the open edge and slipped out. I’m hoping that will buy me at least five minutes to grab a cup.”

“Oh, honey, the way you look I ought to send you out to the porch swing with a thermos and a blanket. Young ones take so much out of you, don’t they?”

Avery sipped the coffee, letting the bracing hot brew pull her toward clarity. The coffee at the boardinghouse was passable, but this coffee was marvelous. And not all the way down a flight of stairs, where she didn’t feel right leaving the girls. She wrapped her hands around the stoneware mug and breathed a sigh of gratitude. A cup of morning coffee in quiet felt like the grandest of luxuries. “I wouldn’t trade them for the world,” Avery answered the housekeeper, “even when they stomp on my last nerve.”

“And we all know little ones can surely do that.” Marlene put a compassionate hand on Avery’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. Truly.”

“I hope Gabe can say the same.” Avery ran her hands through what must be a bird’s nest of bed hair. “Where is he?”

“Off into Waco on business bright and early this morning. That man has risen before the sun every day I’ve known him. If you like the coffee, you can thank him—he makes it before the rest of us even open our eyes.”

Her mind concocted a vision of Gabe vaulting into his truck and peeling down the gravel road, eager to escape the girlish invasion. It would have been smarter to refuse his offer. He must be regretting it after yesterday’s chaos, but he’d been a gentleman and hidden any sign of it. Either that or the boys ranch must be truly desperate to win her compliance.

The discomfort must have shown on her face, for Marlene squeezed her shoulder. “Oh, I know Gabriel can look like a stiff old bull sometimes, but he’s got a heart of gold down under it all. It’ll work out just fine, I promise you. Just takes a little adjusting.”

Avery leaned up against the counter. “What I don’t get is, why did he make the offer in the first place?”

“Well, you know the obvious reason.”

Avery put her hand to her forehead. “My grandfather and his kooky demands.”

Marlene sighed. “That old coot was a puzzle if ever there was one. Kept to himself mostly, and grumbled when he did speak up. You could have knocked me over with a feather when Gabriel told me about his bequest.” She straightened up suddenly. “Listen to me talking ill of the deceased. Forgive me.”

Avery glanced up from her coffee. “That’s just it, Marlene. He wasn’t my grandfather. I mean he was, but I never really knew him. I was surprised when Darcy found me and sent those messages. I ignored them at first, thinking they were some kind of internet hoax. Then I got to thinking...” She let her words trail off. “I don’t know what I got to thinking.” Avery knew she was too tired to get into this now, but the words seemed to tumble out of her without permission.

Marlene’s hand covered Avery’s own. “This has to be hard, all the demands and the messy history. And that other Avery! You two are night and day—and I can’t tell you how glad I am it’s you who’s the real granddaughter.”

Avery had heard a few harrowing tales of the woman who preceded her into Haven claiming to be Cyrus Culpepper’s flesh and blood. The kind folks called her things like “a piece of work” and “up to no good.” Others had far harsher terms for the woman. High heels, long nails, fancy cars? Avery thought she surely must look dumpy and unsuccessful when compared to that imposter! It just made everything in this crazy mess that much more complicated.

“I know Gabriel was downright relieved to know that other woman wasn’t going to stay in Haven.”

Avery didn’t know how to answer. She wasn’t going to stay in Haven, either.

Marlene clucked her tongue. “I wouldn’t want that woman in this house, and Gabriel would have never made the offer, that’s for sure.”

Which brought the conversation around to Avery’s original question. “Why did he offer to put us up? I don’t get the sense he’s fond of children.”

Marlene let out a soft laugh. “Oh, he’s not. Your girls stump him but good. Kind of entertaining, actually. His face when he saw those pink sheets? Priceless.”

It would be amusing—if it wasn’t so disconcerting—to see commanding Gabe Everett overrun by little people in pigtails. “All the more reason not to offer. I’m sure we could have found someplace else to go—if we chose to stay,” Avery felt compelled to add. “Waited it out until there were rooms at the Blue Bonnet. Or convinced Mrs. Sackett to keep us on.”