Linda Goodnight - Home to Crossroads Ranch

“More often than I’d like,” she said grimly.

Kathy Underkircher and her hostility were wearing thin, for Rainy was certain that the woman who had decided to hate her for reasons that had nothing to do with these children had once again called the police.

“Why? You don’t seem the kind to cause trouble.”

“I’m not.” She waved him off. “It’s too complicated to explain right now.”

The doorbell screamed again and, under other circumstances, Nate’s flinch would have made Rainy laugh. The awful music had that effect on everyone.

“What is with the musical doorbell?” he asked.

“My brother installed it. His idea of a joke.” She pushed a stray lock of hair behind one ear and said a little prayer as she gazed around the living room. The place looked better, if not perfect. But who expected perfect with children?

“Not your kind of music?”

“What?” she asked. “Oh, the bell. Despise it. Don’t know how to dismantle it.” She reached for the doorknob as the raucous tune restarted. Through gritted teeth, she said, “If that thing wakes the babies, I’ll take a hammer to it.”

Behind her Nate chuckled. “Sounds like a handyman job to me.”

It occurred to her then that he was still here. By now the handsome cowboy—the handsome single cowboy—would be convinced he’d fallen into some alternative dimension filled with screaming kids, throw up, overflowing washers, irritating music and a policeman on the doorstep. Could her day get any worse? Might as well find out.

She ripped the door open with a little more force than needed.

A familiar officer in a blue uniform stood in the cool shade of the tulip-bordered porch. Sun glinted off his silver Summervale police badge.

“Miss Jernagen?”

“Hello, Officer Wagner,” she said with a sigh. “Kathy Underkircher again?”

The policeman’s head dipped slightly. “Anonymous caller. Sorry to disturb you but screaming was reported again. Is there a problem?”

The anonymous caller was Kathy, all right. The woman would never forgive her, no matter how she tried to mend the rift.

“None that needs police,” Nate said, stepping up beside Rainy to extend his hand to the officer. “Nate Del Rio. Rainy and I attend the same church. Don’t I know you?”

“Del Rio?” the young officer rubbed his chin. “Yeah, yeah. You got that ranch outside of town. Right?”

“That’s right. Crossroads Ranch.”

“My dad bought a heifer off you a while back for my little brother’s agriculture project at school. I came with him to pick her up.”

Nate’s head bobbed. “I remember. Good breeding stock.”

Rainy looked back and forth between the two men. It was considerate of Nate to be cordial but he had no idea she and Officer Wagner were old hands at this. She didn’t need anyone to soften up the policeman with chitchat.

“Listen, gentlemen, I have four frightened children in there to attend to. Could we have this little reunion later?”

Chagrined, the officer nodded. “Sorry, ma’am. Do you mind if I come in? Check things out?”

“You know there’s nothing wrong in here,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am, but I have to check.”

“I know. I know.” She rolled her eyes heavenward, as much to beseech the Lord’s help as for effect. “What a crying shame that Kathy can’t get a life of her own and leave mine alone.”

To let the officer in, she stepped back…and collided with the cowboy. Strong fingers caught her upper shoulders. “Whoa now.”

A few minutes ago, she’d been entertaining the idea of getting to know him better. Now that she was completely humiliated, she wanted him gone before she and her family further debased themselves in his presence.

“Nate, I appreciate your help in fixing the washer. Thanks so much. I’ll call you later about visiting the ranch.”

Nate didn’t seem the least bit moved by her obvious dismissal. “Someone’s crying back there.”

Her head swung toward the back of the house and then returned to the officer. “I need to see about the kids.”

“This will only take a minute.”

“I’ll go.” Before she could protest, Nate’s lanky legs carried him down the hall.

Surprised and more than a little touched, Rainy lifted both hands toward the officer and said, “Come on in and have a look. This morning has been incredibly hectic but all the noise is harmless, as always. Katie had a stomach virus. She screams when she hurts. Or about any other time she wants to communicate.”

“Yes, ma’am. I understand.” The officer glanced around the now tidy living room. “I see you have a couple of new ones over there.”

“Temporaries. They arrived last night.” She cast a glance toward the bedrooms. The crying had stopped.

Astonishingly, the twins remained asleep. As if he couldn’t resist, the sturdy young cop headed toward the playpen. “I got one about this size. They can be into everything.”

“These two have been so exhausted, they’ve mostly slept and eaten.”

“That’s not natural,” he said with a chuckle. “Just wait till they get rested up.”

“Hopefully, social services will find another placement for them by then. I’m not exactly set up for infants.” She turned toward the hallway. “The other children are back here. But please be very gentle with them. They’re terrified of you.”

“I’m sorry about that, but I have to do my job.”

“I know. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Officer Wagner was young, fresh-faced and genuinely kind, but that had never mattered to the kids. He wore a uniform and that was enough to set Joshua and Emma back for a week. Didn’t Kathy Underkircher understand that the real victims of her animosity were innocent children? Even if she knew, would she care?

Bitterness gathered like acid on Rainy’s tongue. She’d prayed about the woman, asking the Lord to deal with Kathy’s hard heart. And now this. Again. On the worst day possible. In front of Nate.

Thanks a lot, Lord.

Whipping around, she led Officer Wagner through the house and pushed open the door to her bedroom. Her embarrassment at having two men see her unmade bed and pink pajamas was quickly forgotten. Nate Del Rio perched on the edge of her desk chair with Emma clinging to his knee like a blond wood tick. The boys were huddled next to his sides like baby chicks against a hen. In ordinary circumstances, the comparison of the hunky cowboy with a hen would have been amusing. Today, the sight was endearing.

“Everything okay in here?” she asked, her gaze searching each of the children’s faces.

Will nodded solemnly. Joshua, bless his heart, trembled like an earthquake but followed his brother’s example. Rainy’s heart ached for the little guy. Emma’s wide, troubled eyes were glued to the policeman.

“As you can see, Officer,” Nate said, dropping a hand onto each of the boys’ shoulders, “the kids are fine.”

“Is this all of them?”

Katie chose that moment to answer for herself. She screamed.

Nate didn’t sleep a wink that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rainy Jernagen and her big-eyed foster kids. Worse, he felt the pressing weight of responsibility, worrying about them. None of which made any sense, other than he’d agreed to the foolish request to let Rainy bring the children to the ranch today. What had he been thinking?

Kids made him nervous. Not that he didn’t like them, but he sure didn’t want them running around the ranch getting into danger. Town kids wouldn’t know the first thing about staying safe on a ranch. He’d known the dangers and still hadn’t been able to avoid a tragedy.

The memory slapped him a good one, and following hot on its heels was the other memory. The one that kept him humble and praying for forgiveness.

He stalked through the kitchen toward the bubbling silver coffeemaker. His grandpa sat at the worn wooden table, glasses on the end of his nose, sipping stout black coffee and reading the Bible. As always, the sight touched a place deep inside Nate. Ernie Del Rio had come to the Lord after the tragedy that had nearly broken their family, and Grandpop’s witness had eventually led his oldest grandson to Christ. Nate would be forever grateful to his grandfather for loving him enough to lead the way. Sadly, neither his brother nor his sister displayed the least bit of interest in changing their ways.

As Nate’s boots tapped across the tile, Grandpop peered at him over the top of his half-rims. “Looking rough, boy. You going to church?”

“Lousy night.”

The old man poked a thick finger onto the printed page. “Says right here that the Lord gives His beloved sleep.”

“Guess I’m not His beloved then.” The truth was he’d long suspected he was low on God’s list of favorites. But he understood and didn’t hold it against the Lord. He had a lot to make up before God could be pleased with him, but he was working at it.

He dumped two spoons of sugar into his coffee, sipped and grimaced. “Pop, you make the worst coffee on earth.”

His grandfather didn’t take the grumbling to heart. “Don’t drink it then.”

They’d had this conversation at least once a week since Pop moved in with him three years ago. Grandma’s passing had left the older man at a loss, and Nate needed help on the ranch. They’d blended their lives amicably—two old bachelors set in their ways, raising cows.

“Janine called a bit ago. I wrote the number on the pad.”

“What now?” His sister was like a leech, sucking the blood out of him, always needy. He was the go-to man in the family, the only functional member of a dysfunctional mess. At least, he considered himself functional. He had a steady job and a permanent home, which was more than he could say for Janine and Blake most of the time.

He reached for the phone number, but Pop’s voice stopped him. “Sit down and drink your coffee first. You don’t have to jump every time she hollers.”

Nate dialed anyway. Pop didn’t understand. No one did.

Every time one of his siblings called, he got this sick pull of dread and fear in the pit of his stomach. What if…

“Janine? What’s wrong?” There was always something wrong. She didn’t call otherwise. “I thought you and Sal worked everything out yesterday.”

“We did, Nate. I promise. Sal’s being good as gold.”

Nate grimaced. Sal was a beer-guzzling lout who came and went at will, leaving Janine and their baby to fend for themselves.

“So what’s up?”

“Well, you see.” She paused and he heard a shaky influx of breath. “Now don’t get mad, Nate.”

Nate braced one hand against the kitchen cabinet and stared out the window over the sink. Fat black calves grazed on two hundred acres of quickly greening Bermuda grass. His cows, his grass, his hard work, soon to be bigger and better if all went well.

“Just tell me what you want, Janine.”

The whining commenced. “See? You’re already getting mad. I can’t help that I’m the unluckiest person in the world. You just don’t understand what it’s like to be in my shoes. You’ve got it made out there on your ranch. You’ve always had it made.”

Nate didn’t remind her of what they both knew. He’d started this ranch on a loan and a prayer, working sixteen-hour days for a long time. Since then, he’d leased an adjacent eight hundred acres with an option to buy. If he could save enough money before the lease ran out, the land would be his and he’d finally feel solvent as a rancher. But that was a big if, and Janine’s constant requests for money didn’t help him save any extra.