The Rancher's Answered Prayer

“I can’t vouch for the bedding,” he told her, as she began positioning suitcases around the room and opening them.

“I brought my own.”

“Thank God,” he said. “All we brought are sleeping bags, and I doubt Jake would want to share one with Frankie even for a single night. Kid’s a mini tornado in his sleep, all flailing arms and legs.” He chuckled, thinking of the nights he’d spent with Frankie when both Jake and Jolene had been deployed. If not for the overwhelming relief of having his brother return safely from the war zone, Wyatt might have been jealous of his brother for taking Frankie home with him. Then Jolene had been killed in a training exercise just weeks after returning home, and Wyatt’s envy had turned to grief.

Tina looked at Wyatt, her expression solemn. “Are you the kind of man who normally thanks God?” she asked.

Wyatt blinked and nodded. “I am.” To his surprise, her coppery gaze softened a bit before she turned away, a pair of worn jeans and a faded red tank top in her hands.

“Good to know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to change. Then we can strip the beds and haul the mattresses outside to beat the dust out of them.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Of course.” He backed out of the room and caught Jake by the elbow as he was heading downstairs, informing him of their latest chore.

While he and Jake manhandled the mattresses down to the porch to whack the dust out of them, Tina wiped down and swept out all seven rooms upstairs. Thankfully, she found additional bedsheets in the linen closet at the end of the hall. After tumbling them in the dryer to remove dust and anything else that might have found its way into the folds, she made up the beds. In the end, the sleeping bags weren’t needed, so Wyatt had her use those to make a comfortable pallet for Tyler.

Unfortunately, the dryer repeatedly threw the breaker in the outdated junction box in the laundry room. Worse, more than one outlet sparked noticeably when they tried to use it. So, after the sheets were refreshed, they turned off the electricity. Considering the poor wiring, a portable generator—if they could even find one—didn’t seem wise.

“Guess I’d better put an electrician at the top of my list,” Tina said tiredly as the waning sun threw shadows across the room.

“Looks like it,” Wyatt agreed. “We can manage with flashlights for a while. Tomorrow I’ll order some propane and see about changing the utilities into—”

“My name,” Tina said flatly, dropping down onto the chair.

Wyatt sighed but remained silent.

“For the record,” she went on, looking as weary as Wyatt felt, “I intend to divide two of the bedrooms upstairs into bathrooms. That will leave five bedrooms, though I intend to turn one of those into a sitting room that can be shared by the back two bedrooms. Just so you know.”

“That leaves just four bedrooms for six people.”

“Eventually, Tyler and I will sleep downstairs.”

“In what? The den?”

“The den can be divided,” she pointed out. “It’s an enormous room. And there’s the junk room.”

Man, he hated this added complication. He and his brothers already had enough to deal with. They didn’t need all this confusion, what with rooms being divided all over the house.

Lord, show me how to get through this, he silently prayed. Don’t let me say and do things I’ll regret. We need the ranch to work for us.

“Is there any food?” Tina asked, running a hand through her thick, spiky hair. “If so, I’ll start supper as soon as the water is heated.”

She had two huge pots of water on the stove for the boys’ baths, but the adults would have to make do with cold showers tonight.

“I’m afraid there’s not much here,” Wyatt informed her. She looked too tired to cook, anyway, but he didn’t say so. “Jake offered to head into town to pick up burgers for supper, if that’s all right with you.”

“Works for me. I’ll hit the grocery store tomorrow and buy some food.”

Wyatt’s stomach applauded that plan. He just hoped she could actually cook. If not, they’d be back to living on canned goods, cereal and the limited fare from the town’s single eatery. Wyatt had fond memories of the old diner, but he wouldn’t want to eat there three times a day.

“You didn’t seem to bring much in the way of housekeeping supplies,” Ryder commented, rubbing his dark head with a thin towel.

She shook her head, her short chestnut hair flopping over her eyes. Pushing aside the glossy strands, she said, “Didn’t have much to bring, but surely Dodd left enough pots and pans to see us fed.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, but we should have everything you need,” Wyatt told her, heading toward the bathroom. “In fact, I don’t know where we’re going to put all the furniture.”

“You’re moving in furniture?” Tina squawked in obvious surprise.

Actually, they had enough furniture for two households, but he kept that information to himself for the moment.

“Don’t get in a huff,” he said, coming to a halt. “The moving company will store our things until the bunkhouse is ready. You’ll have plenty of room for your furniture.” That came off as surly, which was not his intention. Before he could soften his remarks, however, she wearily lifted the back of her forearm to her brow.

Sighing, she muttered, “I don’t have any furniture. This is it for us.”

Wyatt frowned. “What? Not even a TV?”

She shook her head again. “Nearly everything was rented, and what wasn’t, I sold.”

Suddenly, Wyatt felt guilty because he’d silently grumbled that she’d brought more suitcases than he and his family together.

“Besides,” she said, keeping her gaze averted, “I didn’t have room for anything else.”

That was the truth. The car had been stuffed. He’d assumed that the bulk of her goods would follow, but now he remembered something she’d said earlier.

One man has already taken me for everything I owned, and I’ll never let that happen again.

Apparently, she’d left her marriage with very little. Wyatt had been under the impression that belongings were divided equitably during a divorce. Maybe she and her husband hadn’t acquired much, but she and her ex should have had at least four or five years to acquire a few furnishings.

Had her ex sent her and her son into the world without the necessities? Wyatt frowned at the thought. Not that it was any of his business. Besides, he disliked the curiosity that her situation aroused in him. In fact, he disliked her, though he couldn’t honestly say why.

This situation wasn’t her fault, after all. When it came right down to it, what she did with this house was no business of his. The house and everything in it belonged to her. But what on earth had Dodd been thinking when he’d created this mess?

Wyatt hurriedly showered and dressed. He decided not to shave, despite his scruffy appearance. Staying clean-shaven was a near impossibility with his heavy beard, and he wasn’t eager to attempt a smooth shave with cold water. Plus, with daylight fading, he needed to leave time for the others to clean up.

Tina was next and dressed in fresh jeans and a baggy T-shirt. With her hair wet and her subtle makeup scrubbed away, she could have passed for sixteen. For the first time, her hair looked as dark as her gracefully arched brows.

She had the most amazing skin he’d ever seen. Her big, almond-shaped eyes were a bright shade of light brown, somewhere between amber and copper. Wyatt had to work at not staring.

Relieved when she went back into the bathroom to scrub the tub, he got Frankie ready for his bath. Then he helped Ryder carry in the hot water and fill the tub. After adding cool water to achieve the perfect temperature, Tina bathed the boys together and dressed them in pajamas.

With his dad gone to get dinner, Frankie crawled up into Wyatt’s lap at the old kitchen table while Tina scrubbed the table top. The odd domesticity of the situation felt both peculiar and satisfying at the same time.

He hadn’t shared a house with a woman in the nearly twenty years since his mother, Frances, had died, leaving him a fifteen-year-old with younger brothers, aged ten and five, to care for. Their father had been devastated after the auto accident that had taken his wife. Once he’d recovered from his own injuries, Albert Smith had buried himself in work and grief. The job of raising his younger brothers had chiefly fallen to Wyatt. Long before a heart attack had taken their father, almost six years ago now, Wyatt had assumed the role of family patriarch.

Jake’s wife, Jolene, had been the only significant female influence to enter the Smith realm in all the years since Frances’s death. As a soldier, Jolene had been as much warrior as woman in Wyatt’s estimation, so in many ways, she’d felt like one of the guys.

He couldn’t think of Tina Kemp that way.

It would be best then, Wyatt told himself, if he didn’t think of Tina at all.