Brenda Minton - The Cowboy's Family

Hadn’t she helped enough?

“No.” Wyatt walked away because it was a lot easier than staying there to answer more of her questions. He knew it probably seemed rude, but she didn’t have a clue.

Rachel didn’t know that he was rebuilding his family and that it took every bit of energy he had. Everything he had went to his girls, into making them smile and making their lives stable.

As he walked into the barn, he glanced back. Rachel leaned to talk to Kat. Curls fell forward, framing her face, but a hand came up to push her hair back. She smiled and leaned to kiss his daughter on the cheek.

He walked into the shadowy interior of the barn and flipped on a light. He breathed in the familiar scents. Cows, horses, hay and leather. He could deal with this. He couldn’t deal with a beautiful woman who seemed to love his girls as much as he did.

started creating stories to entertain herself during hour-long rides on the school bus. In high school she wrote romance novels to entertain her friends. The dream grew and so did her aspirations to become an author. She started with notebooks, handwritten manuscripts and characters that refused to go away until their stories were told. Eventually she put away the pen and paper and got down to business with the computer. The journey took a few years, with some encouragement and rejection along the way—as well as a lot of stubbornness on her part. In 2006 her dream to write for the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line came true. Brenda lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband, three kids and an abundance of cats and dogs. She enjoys a chaotic life that she wouldn’t trade for anything—except, on occasion, a beach house in Texas. You can stop by and visit at her website, www.brendaminton.net.

Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing:

Thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness.

—Psalms 30:11

To my readers.

And especially to Julie, for your prayers, your thoughtfulness and your insight.

To Stephanie Newton, for those last minute critiques!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Why had she thought this was a good idea, cleaning house for Wyatt Johnson? Rachel Waters cut the engine to her car and stared up at the big, brick home that Wyatt had built over the winter. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as she mulled the reasons for being here. First of all, she’d agreed to this as a favor to Ryder and Andie. Second, she struggled with the word no.

There were plenty of reasons not to be here. She didn’t need the money. She didn’t need the headache.

She especially didn’t need the heartache.

And Wyatt Johnson had heartache written all over his too-handsome face. Heartache was etched into his eyes. It was the whisper of a smile on his lips. It hovered over his lean features when he picked up his girls from the church nursery, hugging them but saying little to her or the other nursery workers.

So what had she gone and done? As if she didn’t have enough to occupy her time, Rachel had agreed when Ryder Johnson asked her to clean the house his brother Wyatt had built on land across the road from the original Johnson ranch house, the house Ryder and his wife Andie now called home.

Rachel eyed the brick, French country-style home. The windows were wide, the porch was brick and stone. The landscaping was professionally done, but the flowers were being choked out by weeds.

It was a far cry from the parsonage she’d shared with her parents for the last year; since her dad took the job as pastor of the Dawson Community Church. Their little house could fit into this one five times. But the parsonage was immaculate. If her father could get hold of these gardens, he could do wonders with the place.

Oh, well, she couldn’t put it off forever. She hopped out of her car. A border collie bounded toward her, tail wagging. The animal, black-and-white coat clean and brushed, rolled over at her feet. Rachel leaned to pet the dog’s belly.

“So, at least you get some attention, huh, girl?”

That wasn’t fair. Wyatt tried, she was sure he tried. But his girls often came to church with ragged little braids and mismatched clothes. Not that the girls seemed to mind. They smiled and hugged him, and then waited for him to pick them up again.

Rachel cast a critical gaze over the lawn and the house. The barns and fences surrounding the place were well-kept. The horses grazing in the fields gleamed in the early spring sunshine. She’d spent a lifetime dreaming of a place like this.

She walked up the patio steps and knocked on the back door. She stood there for a long time, looking out over the fields, talking aimlessly to the dog. She knocked again. From inside she heard children talking and the drone of the television.

She knocked a third time.

Finally footsteps headed her way and a male voice said something about the television show they were watching. She stepped back and the door opened. Wyatt Johnson stared at her, his dark hair longish. His brown eyes with flecks of dark green were fringed with long lashes. Gorgeous eyes and a gorgeous man. She nearly groaned. He stared at her and then looked down. Two little heads peeked out at her. Molly, age three, and Kat, age two. Molly had told her that she’d be turning four in a few of weeks.

“Can I help you?” Wyatt didn’t move, didn’t invite her in. He just stared, as if he didn’t have a clue who she was. Six months he’d been home. Six months she’d held his girls and read them stories. Sundays had flown by and each week he’d signed the girls in, signed them out and she’d asked how he was doing.

She was the invisible Rachel Waters. He was probably trying to decide where he knew her from.

“I’m here to clean,” she explained, and she managed to smile.

“Clean?”

She held up the bucket she’d taken from her car and the tub of cleaning supplies. “Clean your house. Ryder hired me.”

“He didn’t say anything to me.”

“No, he probably didn’t. Surprise!” She smiled at the girls. They giggled. At least they thought she was funny.

Kat, hands pudgy, her smile sweet, pushed against Wyatt and slipped outside. Rachel wasn’t invisible to Kat. Or to Molly.

“We have crayons.”

“That’s wonderful, Kat. Are you coloring a picture?”

Kat nodded. “For Mommy. Daddy said we could mail it to heaven.”

“That’s a lovely idea.” That was the heartache in his eyes. Rachel didn’t look up because she didn’t want to see his pain. His story was his, private, that’s how he’d kept it. She understood. She had her own stories.

Molly remained behind Wyatt, but she moved a little and peeked out from behind his legs. “I like coloring flowers.”

“I think flowers are one of my favorite things, Molly. It’s April, we’ll have lots of flowers blooming very soon.”

Rachel glanced up. Wyatt hadn’t moved. He just stared for a long minute and then he shook his head and let out a long sigh. It sounded a lot like someone giving up. It didn’t seem as if he’d changed his mind about her, though, because he didn’t move an inch.

“I don’t think we need help with the house.”

Rachel peeked past him and her nose wrinkled. “I disagree.”

He glanced back over his shoulder and shrugged. “It isn’t that bad.”

“It is bad.” Molly waved a hand in front of her nose. “It’s smelly bad. That’s what Uncle Ryder said when he came home last week from the rodeo circus.”

“Circuit.” Wyatt corrected and then his gaze was back on Rachel. “I don’t need help with the house.”

He leaned against the door frame, faded jeans, bare feet and a T-shirt. She took a step back, putting herself out of his personal space and back into her own.

“Ryder already paid me.” And she didn’t like backing down. “I have a few hours free today, no time tomorrow. I’m not going to take his money and not do the job.”

“Ryder should have checked with me. The girls and I were about to clean.”

“After Daddy traces our hands and then does bank stuff.” Molly supplied the information with all the innocence of an almost-four-year-old.

“Sounds like fun.” Rachel stood on the porch, sun beating down on her back. Wyatt continued to stare and she felt fifteen and overweight. She wasn’t, but that look took her back about fifteen years to a place in her life that she really didn’t want to return to.

“Honestly, Rachel, we don’t need a housekeeper.”

“Sorry.” She smiled and took a step forward. Ryder and Andie had warned her that he’d be stubborn about this.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“So, I can come in?” Rachel glanced at her watch. She really didn’t have all day.

Wyatt, tall and cowboy lean, shrugged and stepped back. He waved her in and she was pretty sorry she’d ever agreed to do this. Dishes covered the counters and the sink overflowed. Toys were scattered across a floor that hadn’t seen a mop in, well, it looked like a long time.

“I guess it’s a mess.” Wyatt smiled a little and scooped up Kat to settle her on his shoulders. “We haven’t really paid much attention.”

She wanted to ask how he could not pay attention but that insult piled up on top of a dozen other things she wanted to say to him. His daughters were still in their pajamas and he hadn’t shaved in days. This wasn’t a life; this was hiding from life.

Wyatt had been home for more than six months and from what she’d seen, he hadn’t done a thing to step back into life here, other than church on Sundays and meals at the Mad Cow. Oh, and he’d bought horses. He always had his girls in tow, though. She had to give him credit for that.

He couldn’t match an outfit for anything, but he loved Molly and Kat.

So this was how his brother planned on pushing him back into the dating world. She was probably clueless and really thought this was about cleaning the house. Wyatt planned a few choice words for Ryder as Rachel Waters stepped away from him and leaned to talk to Kat, dusting his daughter’s hands off in the process. The back of Rachel’s shirt came up a little and he couldn’t look away.

He must have made a sound because she straightened and shifted her shirt back into place. Her face was a little pink and she glanced away from him as she pulled her dark, curly hair into a ponytail. She continued to ignore him and he couldn’t stop thinking about a butterfly tattoo at the waist of her jeans. Did the church nursery worker have secrets?

A little late he remembered to be resentful. His younger brother had a habit of pushing his way into people’s lives and shoving his ideas off on them. Rachel cleaning the house was Ryder’s idea.