A Cowboy For The Twins

“So. Car trouble.” He sucked in a quick breath and looked into the engine, the acrid smoke telling him everything he needed to know.

“Yes” was her clipped reply.

He gave her a cursory glance, but she was glaring at the engine ticking loudly in the ensuing silence.

“So what happened?”

“It started making a clunking noise and then it got louder.”

“Can you fix it?” one of the girls asked, poking her head around the hood.

Noah shook his head. “Not with what I’ve got in my toolbox. I’m guessing the engine seized up.”

“That sounds bad,” the other girl said with a frown.

Noah took a closer look at the girls, surprised he hadn’t seen the similarity between them and their mother previously. Of course, he’d had no reference point until he realized they were Shauntelle’s daughters.

“It is. But let me see for sure.” He flashed them a grin, then looked more closely at the engine. That’s when he saw the quarter-sized hole in the engine block. He shook his head in dismay. “Sorry. It looks like a rod went through your engine. It’s toast.”

“So it’s done?”

The rusted-out car looked like it had many better days behind it and none ahead. “Probably,” he said, wishing he could give her better news.

Shauntelle pressed her hands to her mouth, and for a moment he thought she was going to cry. Not that he blamed her. From what he knew about her, she’d had a lot to deal with.

In the past two years she’d lost her husband, moved in with her parents and then, to bring it all to a tragic trifecta, lost her brother only a year ago.

Noah shoved that memory down. Josiah Rodriguez had been working for him when he fell to his death off a scaffold. And no matter how many times Noah went over the situation, how many times he tried to remind himself he wasn’t to blame, he still felt at fault. He should have trained Josiah better. He should have been at the job site that day instead of chasing that other job, trying to make a few more bucks and keep his huge crew of guys busy.

“So where were you headed?” he asked, fighting the blame and self-loathing that always accompanied thoughts of Josiah. “Can I give you a ride?”

“That would be awesome,” one of the twins piped up. “We’re doing deliveries.”

“Of what?”

“Baking and stuff,” the other one put in. “My mom makes bread and buns and all kinds of goodies for the Farmer’s Market. We go every Saturday, but Mrs. Fisher is in Calgary and my mom promised her and some of her other customers that she would get their stuff to them.”

“I’m sure Mr. Cosgrove has other things he needs to do,” Shauntelle said, a sharp tone to her voice. It wasn’t hard to see she preferred he be anywhere but here.

“But he’s the only one who stopped.”

“Millie.” The tone grew harsher as Shauntelle shot her daughter a look of warning.

Millie glanced away, her hands fiddling with the bottom of her T-shirt as she pouted.

“I’m calling a tow truck,” Shauntelle said, pulling a phone out of her pocket.

While she did that, Noah took another look at the car in the faint hope he had misdiagnosed the problem. He turned on the flashlight function of his cell phone, but it only showed him the full extent of the irreparable damage.

“Is it bad?” the one named Millie asked.

He gave her an apologetic glance and nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“My mom always said this car was a beater. I thought she meant like a mixer, but my grandpa said that it meant it wasn’t reliable. My grandpa is kind of smart. Just like my dad was.” Millie sighed and gave Noah a wistful look. “My dad is dead. He died in the overseas. Two years ago.”

“Two and a half,” her sister corrected, her mouth pursed as she clutched her book. “And it’s not in the overseas, it’s just overseas. It was in Afghanistan. He was a doctor without borders. We used to be sad, but now we’re not so sad anymore. My name is Margaret and my sister’s name is Millie.”

“I’m sorry for you,” Noah said. He’d heard bits and pieces about Roger Dexter from Josiah whenever Noah stopped by the work site. Josiah had been proud of Roger, and when he was killed, Josiah was devastated. Noah gave him a week off to be with his parents and sister.

Now Josiah was gone as well.

Noah wondered again about the wisdom of coming back to Cedar Ridge. But he had made a promise to his mother and his cousin Cord, whose wedding he had come to attend, and he couldn’t back out now.

“My daddy was a hero,” Millie put in. “That’s what my grandpa says. A genuine hero.”

Noah experienced a tinge of melancholy at the girl’s admiring words. A doctor working selflessly for other people. That was the very definition of hero. “He sure was,” he agreed.

“Not for two hours?” Shauntelle’s annoyed cry broke into the conversation. She clutched her cell phone in one hand, the other grabbing her head. “Okay. I guess I don’t have a choice.”

She slid her phone in the back pocket of her blue jeans, her hands clasped around the back of her neck. It wasn’t hard to read the frustration on her face.

“That’s a long wait,” Noah said.

“Yep.” Shauntelle massaged her neck with her hands, then dropped them on her hips. “Well, girls, guess we’re stuck here for a while.”

An awkward silence fell at that. Noah knew he couldn’t leave Shauntelle here. The road dead-ended at his mother’s ranch. If Carmen Fisher was in Calgary, she wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours. There was only one other family who lived down this road.

“Do you know if Mr. and Mrs. Anderson are home?” he asked.

“They only come in the summer,” the other twin said with a tone of resignation. “No one else will come down this road.”

And his mother couldn’t help them out either. She hadn’t been feeling well the past few weeks, which was one of the reasons he’d made the trip back to Cedar Ridge. She hadn’t been diagnosed with anything specific. Some vertigo, some headaches, low iron. Just worn and weary, was all she would tell him.

“Can you help us do deliveries?” Millie asked. “You have a big truck.”

“Mr. Cosgrove is probably busy.” Shauntelle’s voice held an undertone of condemnation. “I’ll try Leanne. Maybe she can help. She’s got a big SUV.”

She punched in another set of numbers, which was followed by a few seconds of silence. Guess that was a no-go too. He saw the battle on Shauntelle’s face, and he knew she fought her anger with him and the reality of her situation.

“I don’t mind helping,” he said.

“Okay. Fine.” She tossed out the words like they were poison. “I need to make a delivery to Mrs. Fisher’s place. If you could bring me back to my parents’ house after, that would be great.”

“But what about all the other stuff?” Millie put in. “You said we need to deliver them to get enough money for the eggs in your nest.”

Noah repressed a grin at the mash-up of the term.

“Can you help us deliver those too?” Millie asked, turning to Noah and giving him a mournful look.