A Family for the Rancher Read online

  From Neighbor to Daddy

  Rancher Edmund McKay likes his life simple and quiet—everything feisty neighbor Lula May Barlow is not! But with a cattle rustler on the loose, he’s duty-bound to protect the widowed mother, even without her approval. Yet he never expected to enjoy her company. And he certainly never thought her crowded, bustling house would be the first place he’d ever feel at home...

  After a harsh childhood, Lula May knows how to stand on her own two feet. She doesn’t need Edmund’s help—but she’s starting to want it, all the same. So are her children, who clearly have matchmaking in mind. And when a threat from the past resurfaces, she realizes all that’s at stake...including her chance for a lifetime of love.

  “You don’t need to see us home.”

  “Thought maybe I could help you put those young’uns to bed.”

  She laughed softly. “You mean you want to be sure the cattle rustlers didn’t take advantage of our day in town to steal my few head of cattle.”

  He grinned. “That, too.”

  “I do appreciate it, but you don’t need to watch over us.” She had a strange longing for that exact thing, but with Uncle’s threats hanging over her, she didn’t dare lean on Edmund.

  “Me?” He put a hand on his chest and gave her a mock-wounded look. “Watch over you? The independent, capable Mrs. Lula May Barlow?”

  Hmm. Maybe he wasn’t so guileless, after all. But at least she knew he meant her no harm. She rewarded his little performance with another light laugh and the skeptical arching of one eyebrow.

  And was rewarded with that chest-deep chuckle she’d come to like far too much.

  * * *

  LONE STAR COWBOY LEAGUE:

  THE FOUNDING YEARS—

  Bighearted ranchers in small-town Texas

  Stand-In Rancher Daddy—

  Renee Ryan, July 2016

  A Family for the Rancher—

  Louise M. Gouge, August 2016

  A Rancher of Convenience—

  Regina Scott, September 2016

  Florida author Louise M. Gouge writes historical fiction for Harlequin’s Love Inspired Historical line. She received the prestigious Inspirational Readers’ Choice Award in 2005 and placed in 2011 and 2015; she also placed in the Laurel Wreath contest in 2012. When she isn’t writing, she and her husband, David, enjoy visiting historical sites and museums. Please visit her website at blog.louisemgouge.com.

  Books by Louise M. Gouge

  Love Inspired Historical

  Lone Star Cowboy League: The Founding Years

  A Family for the Rancher

  Four Stones Ranch

  Cowboy to the Rescue

  Cowboy Seeks a Bride

  Cowgirl for Keeps

  Ladies in Waiting

  A Proper Companion

  A Suitable Wife

  A Lady of Quality

  Love Thine Enemy

  The Captain’s Lady

  At the Captain’s Command

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  LOUISE M. GOUGE

  A Family for the Rancher

  You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you and ordained you that you should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain:

  that whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he shall give it [to] you.

  —John 15:16

  Writing this Lone Star Cowboy League continuity series with Renee Ryan and Regina Scott has

  been such a delightful experience for me. Not only are these lovely ladies two of my favorite authors, but they made my story better with their input.

  I can only aspire to reach their heights of talent

  and success. I would also like to dedicate this story to my daughter and granddaughter, Jane and Savannah Reese. These two horsewomen supplied me with the information I needed regarding

  Lula May’s horses. As always, I am grateful to my dear husband, David, who is my biggest encourager and loving supporter. Most of all, I thank

  my Lord Jesus Christ, from whom come all things pertaining to salvation, life and godliness.

  Contents

  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

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Wolf Creek Wife by Penny Richards

  Chapter One

  High Bar Ranch

  Little Horn, Texas

  June 24, 1895

  “The very idea, Mr. McKay. You think I don’t know my fence needs repairs?”

  Widow Barlow stood in her kitchen, fists posted at her waist, shoulders hunched high as she glared at Edmund McKay, looking a whole heap like an angry, ruffled-feathered brood hen protecting her nest. Looking a whole heap like Edmund’s ornery widowed cousin, Judith, who’d raised him. Which made his unexpected visit all the more difficult for him. Behind Mrs. Barlow in the dim kitchen light of a kerosene lamp, Edmund could see her two teenaged stepsons and her own three smaller children watch him with wary expressions, like he was a grizzly bear about to attack their mama.

  “You don’t need to worry that my horses will wander over into your pasture, because we always keep an eye on them.” Mrs. Barlow waved a hand toward the kitchen window that faced out that way. The sun was just appearing over the horizon, chasing away night shadows as it rose. “I’ve ordered the barbed wire, and it will be in at the general store any day now.”

  “Well, ma’am—” Edmund swallowed hard, partly to get past the mouthwatering aromas of fresh baked bread, bacon and coffee filling this room—this family had just finished eating breakfast, and the remains littered the kitchen table—and partly to hide his vexation. He didn’t know much about women, but Mrs. Barlow’s defensive, self-sufficient attitude puzzled him, just as his cousin’s meanness always had. And Mrs. Barlow sure wasn’t anything like his sweet, compliant sister-in-law, who always acted real pleased when his brother Josiah offered to help her. Not only did Mrs. Barlow not want any help, she didn’t even dress like other women. Instead of a dress, she wore some sort of mixed skirt and trouser getup, probably to make it easier for her to do a man’s work on her horse ranch, seeing she no longer had a husband to do it. If this woman was always so disagreeable, Edmund couldn’t imagine why Frank Barlow had married her in the first place.

  Great hornets, if Edmund had known Mrs. Barlow would get all in a huff, he never would have mentioned the weakened fence. So much for the guilt he felt for not looking in on this little widow woman right after Frank died last winter. He blamed his neglect on his preference for being a loner, a man who loved his freedom and solitude. On the other hand, the Good Book said folks should take care of widows and orphans. Loner or not, he’d failed in his Christian duty, and now look what he got for it.

  “I just thought—”

  “Never you mind.” The lady spoke in a snippy way, just like Judith used to do. “Calvin’s been riding fence lines since he was ele
ven, and he let me know about the problem over a week ago. As you can see, we manage just fine.”

  As if to emphasize her assertion, sixteen-year-old Calvin gave Edmund a decisive nod as fierce protectiveness smoldered in his eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure you do.” Not given to a temper, Edmund felt more foolish than angry. Did the older boy really think Edmund would harm his stepma? Didn’t this family know about the hard-won respect and trust most other local folks gave him? If he’d suspected they didn’t trust him, he never would have come. Edmund never went where he wasn’t wanted.

  Once was enough for that. When he, Josiah and their brother, David, were just little mites, their parents died, and they were each sent to a different relative. The cousin who raised Edmund was a strong-willed, bossy widow who hadn’t welcomed another mouth to feed. Forced to take his meals in the kitchen while the family ate in the dining room, Edmund always felt like an outsider, so he hit the trail as soon as he turned sixteen, Calvin’s age. If not for an old cowboy taking him under his wing, Edmund could well have ended up an outlaw. Hunger can do that to a man. These Barlow young’uns might have lost their pa, but they still had each other, and they still had a strong ma to hold them together. He could almost envy them that, if envy weren’t a sin.

  Mrs. Barlow kept on looking at him with her light brown eyebrows bent into a frown. He shuffled from one foot to the other and rolled his brown Stetson in his hands. Maybe he should just apologize for living and go back home.

  Nope. He needed to tell Widow Barlow why he’d bothered her this early in the morning, so he cleared his throat.

  “Um, well, I didn’t come about the fence. I came over to invite Jacob—” he gave the ten-year-old a slight nod and was rewarded when the boy’s eyebrows shot upward with surprise and his lips formed a lopsided grin “—that is, you may know that after John and Helen Carson’s barn burned down, CJ Thorn came up with a plan to teach local boys about ranching. CJ calls them the Young Ranchers’ Club and says they were a big help to Molly’s folks in cleaning up the place after the fire and getting the new barn built.” Maybe invoking his friends’ names would influence Mrs. Barlow. “What with CJ and Molly newly married, I’m gonna have the boys over to my place this week. The Forester boys and the Gillen boys and a few others are the regulars. Jacob would fit right in—” That was a mighty long speech for Edmund, and he was beginning to feel worn out despite it being first thing in the morning.

  Mrs. Barlow’s blue eyes narrowed, and her frown turned into a scowl. “Jacob learns everything he needs to know about ranching right here at home, and it’s past time for him to start doing his chores.” She glanced toward the door, a clear invitation for Edmund to leave.

  Edmund would be glad to do that, but he couldn’t let his nephew Adam down. “Yes, ma’am, I’m sure you’re teaching him a whole heap. But Adam will be there, too, and he’ll be disappointed if his best friend can’t join the group.” A tiny bit of guilt crept into his mind. Using CJ’s name to add credibility to his invitation was one thing, but he shouldn’t blame Adam for this intrusion into her world. Jacob’s surprised look turned to excitement as he glanced between Edmund and his ma.

  “Adam?” She blinked those big blue eyes, and her entire countenance changed from antagonism to something a lot more pleasant, almost a smile. In spite of her grouchiness, she was a nice looking woman any day, but a smile made her right pretty. “Hmm. If Adam will be there—” She glanced at Jacob, who chewed his lip and pleaded with his gaze. She relaxed her stance and gently pulled him forward. “You want to go?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Full-on happiness shone on the boy’s face, giving Edmund a kick of satisfaction in his chest.

  Mrs. Barlow heaved out a sigh. Was it relief or defeat? “All right, then.” She ruffled her son’s hair. “You may go. We’ll shift your chores around with your brothers so everything gets done.”

  To their credit, not a hint of grumbling or disapproval came from either Calvin or Samuel. Not even from little Daniel, who was a mite young to join Jacob and the others.

  When Mrs. Barlow turned back to Edmund, he caught a hint of worry—or was it fear?—in her eyes that didn’t seem to have anything to do with Jacob. Not knowing much about women, he had no idea how to figure it out. Still, he was pleased she’d let Jacob join the other boys. He’d saved the best part until last.

  “You’ll be glad to know Pastor Stillwater will cart the boys back and forth each day.”

  “That’s not necessary. Jacob can get there by himself.” She posted her fists at her waist again. “And I have only one condition for him to join.”

  Edmund’s chest tightened. Now what? “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I want you to bring him home every evening and have supper with us. That’ll repay you for your efforts.”

  “You don’t have to repay—”

  “If you won’t come, he can’t go.” She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin.

  Now that Edmund had a little bit of her trust, he didn’t want to lose it. But supper with this big family? Not something he’d ever seek, even with the fine breakfast aromas tempting him just now. She was probably a real fine cook. For a brief moment, he let himself admire her pretty face with its upturned little nose sprinkled with freckles and eyes that seemed not to miss anything going on in her domain. He had no place for women in his life, especially not peevish women, but he could admire them from a distance.

  “Well?” She tapped one foot on the broad board flooring and raised one eyebrow.

  Suddenly, he felt like a schoolboy being scolded by the schoolmarm. Yet he had to admit, if only to himself, that he was tired of his own cooking and the occasional bland fare served up by Mushy, his cowhands’ cook. Maybe he should give it a try.

  She was standing there waggling those fine eyebrows expectantly, and he bit back a chuckle. “Yes, ma’am. That’ll be fine.”

  “Good.”

  Good? Maybe so, maybe not. Edmund wasn’t so sure. Sitting down with a large family when he was used to eating in peace and quiet...and alone...might prove to be more of a challenge than teaching young boys about ranching.

  Mrs. Barlow sent the other children off to do chores while she went to help Jacob get ready. Alone in this spotless kitchen with all of its tempting smells, Edmund felt both pleased and a bit frustrated by her behavior. Women! Who could understand them? He’d stick with what he did know, running a cattle ranch. He’d worked with cowboys all of his adult life, so he felt confident he could wrangle the young boys in his charge. In a way, it would be payback to kindly Old Gad, the cowboy who’d mentored him both in his job and in his spiritual life. When he’d tried to repay Old Gad for his kindness, he’d told him just to pass it on. That’s what he was trying to do now, what he always tried to do.

  And in the back of his mind, he felt the Lord’s nudge challenging him to figure out ways to help his pretty, stubborn little neighbor take care of her ranch...without her knowing it, o’course.

  * * *

  Once Lula May and Jacob were back in the kitchen, she tied a clean red kerchief around the neck of her oldest birth child. She made a final inspection of his fresh tan shirt and brown trousers and his well-brushed, hand-me-down boots. Nobody could say she didn’t take care of her children or, as they grew up, that she didn’t teach them to take care of themselves. “There. All ready to go.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jacob’s bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement, the most joy she’d seen on his face since his pa died last January. She and the children had all grieved Frank’s passing, still grieved it, but for some reason she’d yet to figure out, Jacob seemed to take his pa’s death the hardest.

  “Go on, then.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen door where Mr. McKay stood waiting, hat in hand. “Get your horse.”

  The man gave her a quick nod and an almost-grin. She’d never known wha
t to make of her quiet, somewhat aloof neighbor. Frank had called him a good person, and she’d always respected her husband’s judgment, but now she was on her own deciding whom to trust. Besides, being a good person didn’t mean this man would teach her son properly.

  “Let’s go, cowboy.” Mr. McKay clapped a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, and the two of them exited the house through the narrow mudroom off the kitchen. On the way out, Jacob grabbed his well-worn hat from a peg by the door.

  Doubt darted through Lula May. Exactly what would Mr. McKay teach Jacob? She should have asked. She hurried out the door behind them, passing the man’s horse ground-tied a few yards from the house. Nibbling at a clump of grass, the stallion stayed in place, a good sign, because she kept her broodmares in a nearby field. The stallion not taking off in that direction meant he was well trained not to move once his reins hit the ground.

  “I’ll help you saddle up,” the man said. “Which one’s your horse?” He looked across the corral where a dozen or so of Lula May’s quarter horses awaited their morning feeding.

  “It’s in the barn,” she called out. “And he can saddle his own horse.”

  Mr. McKay turned, surprise registering on his face. Or was it annoyance? Never mind. If he was going to teach her son anything, she had a right to know about his methods.

  “Go on, Jacob. Get Buster.”

  Her son hurried obediently into the barn while Lula May joined Mr. McKay at the corral fence.

  With one boot on the lowest rail and his arms resting on the top one, the rancher appeared to be studying her stock. Was he interested in buying? She could use a sale right now to pay for that barbed wire when it came in. Raising cow ponies wasn’t as lucrative as cattle ranching, but it was a business she and the children could manage without having to hire cowboys.

  “You need a horse?” She followed his gaze, which seemed to have settled on the paint gelding Calvin had raised to sell.

  “No, ma’am.” Still studying her horses, Mr. McKay left it at that.