The Cowboy's Triplets
Author
Patricia Johns
Reads
16.2K
Chapters
39
Chapter 1
Nora Carpenter could have cared for one baby easily enough. She could somehow have juggled two. But three—she’d never imagined that accepting the role of godmother to her half sister’s babies would actually put her into the position of raising those babies on her own. She was still in shock.
Nora stood in her mother’s brilliantly clean farmhouse kitchen, more overwhelmed than she had ever felt in her life. The three infants were still in their car seats, eyes scrunched shut and mouths open in hiccoughing wails. She stood over them, her jeans already stained from spilled formula and her tank top stretched from...she wasn’t even sure what. She unbuckled the first infant—Rosie—and scooped her up. Rosie’s cries subsided as she wriggled up against Nora’s neck, but anxiety still made Nora’s heart race as she fumbled with Riley’s buckle. She’d come back to Hope, Montana, that afternoon so that her mother could help her out, but even that was more complicated than anyone guessed. These babies weren’t just orphans in need of care; they were three tiny reminders that Nora’s father hadn’t been the man they all believed him to be.
Everything had changed—everything but this kitchen. The counters were crumb-free, as they always were, and the room smelled comfortingly, and very faintly, of bleach. Hand-embroidered kitchen towels hung from the stove handle—two of them, one with Monday sewn across the bottom, and one with Thursday. Today was Friday. Unless Dina Carpenter was making jam or doing canning, this was the natural state—immaculate, with no care for properly labeled towels. The babies’ cries echoed through the house.
Rosie, Riley and Roberta had finished their bottles just before Nora’s mother had left for a quick trip to the store for some baby supplies.
“I’ll be fine!” Nora had said. Famous last words. The minute the door shut, the cries had begun, and no amount of cooing or rocking of car seats made a bit of difference.
There was a knock on the back door, and Nora shouted, “Come in!” as she scooped up Riley in her other arm and cuddled both babies close. Riley’s cries stopped almost immediately, too, and that left Roberta—Bobbie, as Nora had nicknamed her—still crying in her car seat, hands balled up into tiny fists.
Nora had no idea who was at the door, and she didn’t care. Whoever walked through that door was about to be put to work. Served them right for dropping by.
“Need a hand?” The voice behind her was deep—and familiar. Nora turned to see Easton Ross, the family’s ranch manager, standing in the open door. He wore jeans and cowboy boots, his shirt pushed up his forearms to reveal ropy muscle. He’d changed a lot since their school days. Back then he’d been a skinny kid, perpetually shorter than she was. Not anymore. He was most definitely a grown man...and she was no longer the one with all the power. When her father died a few months ago, he’d left Easton a piece of property.
“Easton.” She smiled tiredly. “Would you mind picking up Bobbie there? She needs a cuddle.”
Her personal grudge against the man would have to wait.
“Yeah...okay...” He didn’t sound certain, but he crossed the room and squatted in front of the car seat.
“You know how to pick up babies, don’t you?” she asked.
“Uh...sort of.” His face had hardened, his jawline now strong and masculine. He used to have acne as a teenager, but there was no sign of it now. Looking at him squatting there, she realized that she’d missed him more than she’d realized—and that wasn’t just the fact that she didn’t have enough hands right now. And yet, while she’d been away in the city, he’d been here with her dad, building a relationship that her father would reward him with her great-grandparents’ homestead. Bile rose every time she thought about it.
“Support the head and the bottom,” she instructed. “The rest will take care of itself.”
Easton undid the buckle then cautiously scooped up the baby in his broad, calloused hands. Bobbie settled instantly as Easton pulled her against his chest. He looked down at the baby and then up at Nora.
“There,” he said. “That worked.”
“Thanks...” Nora heaved a sigh. The quiet was more than welcome.
“Bobbie?” he asked. The babies were all in pink sleepers.
“Her full name is Roberta. But she’s my little Bobbie. It suits her.”
Nora had only had the babies in her charge for a few days of her twelve-week parental leave from work, but she was already attached. They were so sweet, and so different from each other. Rosie was the quietest of the three, and Riley couldn’t abide a wet diaper. Bobbie seemed to have the strongest personality, though, and Nora could already imagine their sisterly dynamic as they grew.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She gave him a tight smile. “Nice to see you again.”
Last time she saw him was at the reading of the will. She pushed back the unpleasant memory. Regardless, Easton was a fixture around here. They used to be good friends when they were younger, and they’d spent hours riding together, or just sitting on a fence and talking. When times were tough, Easton always seemed to materialize, and his solid presence made a difference. Apparently, her father had had equally warm memories.
Easton met her gaze, dark eyes softened by a smile. “You look good.”
“Babies suit me, do they?” she joked.
“So the word around town—it’s true, then?” he asked.
There it was—the beginning of the town’s questions. There would be a lot of them, and the answers were complicated.
“What did you hear?” she asked warily. “How much do people know?”
“That you came back to town with triplets,” he said. “That your dad had an affair, and you had a half sister...” He winced. “It that part true? I find it hard to believe of him. I knew your dad better than most—”
She chafed at that reminder. The homestead was an old farmhouse her great-grandparents had built with their own hands. Over the years, the Carpenters had maintained it and Nora’s parents had used it as a guesthouse. It mattered, that old house. It was Nora’s connection to her family’s past and she’d loved that old place. For her father to have left it to someone else...that had stung. She only found out that he’d changed his will when he died. Her mother had been surprised because she said they’d talked about doing something for Easton, but hadn’t landed on what exactly. Normally Cliff and Dina talked through everything. But it looked like even Easton had been in the dark about her father’s biggest secret.
“Yes, it’s true.” Easton wouldn’t be the only one to be disappointed in this town. “My half sister, Mia, introduced herself a couple of months ago. Her mom—the other woman—” those words tasted bitter “—passed away a few years ago, and Mia was looking for her dad’s side of the family. When I met her, she was already pregnant. There was no dad—she’d gone to a sperm bank. She really wanted kids and hadn’t met the right guy yet.”
Mia had had no idea about the affair and she never got a chance to meet Cliff. She had introduced herself after he died. It had been an awkward meeting, but Nora and Mia had recognized something in each other. Maybe they felt the genetic link. They’d both been raised only children, and to find a sibling was like a childhood daydream come true. Except this was real life, and they’d both had to come to terms with their father’s infidelity.
“And you’re godmother,” Easton concluded.
“Yes. When she asked me to be godmother, I swear, I thought it was just a kind gesture. I never imagined this...”
Mia had died from childbirth complications—triplets being a high risk pregnancy to begin with—and Nora had grieved more deeply than she thought possible for a sister she’d only known a couple of months, whose existence rocked her own world. Nora was certain they’d have been close.
“Wow.” Easton cleared his throat. “So your mom... I mean, these babies...”
“Yes, these babies are my father’s illegitimate grandchildren.” Nora sighed. “And Mom isn’t taking it well.”
That was an understatement. Nora hadn’t told her mother, Dina, about Mia for a few weeks, afraid of causing her mother more grief than she was already shouldering since her husband’s death. So Dina Carpenter hadn’t had long to adjust to this new information before Nora and the babies arrived on her doorstep.
And Dina hadn’t adjusted. She was still coming to terms with her late husband’s infidelity and learning to run the ranch on her own. The babies only seemed to fuel more heartbreak.
“So what are you going to do?” Easton asked.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden staircase outside; then the door opened and Dina came inside, dropping some shopping bags on the floor. She was plump, with graying blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She shut the door behind her then looked up.
“You’re back,” Nora said.
“I got some baby clothes, diapers, formula, soothers, three bouncy chairs—they might help with...” Dina’s voice trailed off. “Hi, Easton.”
Nora recognized the trepidation in her mother’s voice. The secret was out. She’d been holding this one close to her chest, and Nora knew how much her mother dreaded the whole town knowing the ugly truth about her husband’s affair. So did Nora, for that matter. It was worse somehow that her father wasn’t here to answer any questions, or take the brunt of this for them. He deserved to feel ashamed; they didn’t. Nora and her mother hadn’t been the ones to betray trust; he had. But he was dead, and they were left with the fallout of Cliff Carpenter’s poor choices.
“Hi, Mrs. Carpenter.” Easton stood awkwardly, the baby nestled against his chest, and seemed almost afraid to move. “Just lending a hand. I came by to tell you that we’re rotating pastures for fence maintenance, and that will require a bit of overtime from the ranch hands.”
“More overtime?” Dina sighed. “No, no, do it. The southwest fences, right? We put them off last year, so...” She sighed. “Is that all?”
“Yeah.” Easton nodded. “I can get going.” He looked down at the baby in his arms then at Dina as if he didn’t know what to do.
If the homestead was still in the family, Nora would have moved in there with the babies to give her mother some space, but that was no longer an option. Nora and Dina would just have to deal with this together.
“I guess we’ll have to get the babies settled in your old bedroom,” Dina said. She paused, put a hand over her eyes. “I still can’t believe it’s come to this.”
“Mom, you know I can’t take care of them alone—”
“And why did you agree to be godmother?” Her mother heaved a sigh. “I swear, your generation doesn’t think!” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry, Nora. What’s done is done.”
Dina grabbed the bags and headed down the hallway toward Nora’s old bedroom. Nora and Easton exchanged a look.
“She’s not taking this well,” Nora said, feeling like she had to explain somehow.
“I can see that.” Easton glanced in the direction his boss had disappeared. “You going to be okay here?”
“Do I have a choice?” Nora failed to keep the chill from her tone. The guesthouse would have been the perfect solution, but Easton owned it now. That wouldn’t be lost on him. No matter how big the ranch house, the five of them would be cramped. Her mother was right—she hadn’t thought this through. If she’d imagined that she’d ever have to step in and raise these girls, she would have found a polite way to decline the honor. Mia must have had some close friends...maybe some relative on her mother’s side that she could have named as godparent.
Dina came back into the kitchen, her eyes redder than before. Had her mother been crying in the other room?
“Okay, let’s figure this out,” Dina said, her voice wooden. “Where are they going to sleep?”
Nora was staring blankly, and she looked like she wanted to cry. Two of the babies were snuggled in her arms. It was a stupid time for Easton to be noticing, but she was just as gorgeous as she’d always been, with her honey-blond hair and long, slim legs. He’d been halfway in love with her since the sixth grade. She’d never returned his feelings—ever.
Bobbie took a deep breath in her sleep then scrunched her face. He felt a surge of panic and patted the little rump as if soothing the baby would fix all of this. He glanced toward the car seat then at Bobbie. He wanted out of here—to get some space of his own to think this through. Except Nora and Dina looked like they were ready to collapse into tears, and here he stood, the legal owner of the obvious solution.
Easton was a private man. He liked quiet and solitude, and he had that with his new home—Cliff had known exactly how much it would mean to him. But Cliff hadn’t known that he’d have three granddaughters landing on his doorstep after his death...
Dina obviously needed some time to process all this, and Nora needed help—he could feel her desperation emanating from her like waves...
Guilt crept up inside him—a nagging certainty that he stood between Nora and her solution. He didn’t want to go back to the way things were when they were teens, and he certainly didn’t want to give up that house and land that his boss had given him, but he couldn’t just stand here and watch them scramble for some sort of arrangement as if it didn’t affect him, either. He felt responsible.
The words were coming out of his mouth before he had a chance to think better of them. “You can stay with me, Nora. It’s not a problem.”
Nora and Dina turned toward him, relief mingled with guilt written all over both faces. There had always been tension between mother and daughter, and the current situation hadn’t improved things.
“You sure?” Nora asked.
“You bet. It’ll be fine. There’s lots of room. Just for a few days, until you and your mom figure this out.” He was making this sound like a weekend away, not a complete invasion of his privacy, but he was already entangled in this family and had been for years. This was for old time’s sake—for the friendship that used to mean so much to him. And maybe this was also a guilt offering for having inherited that house to begin with.
The next few minutes were spent gathering up baby supplies and getting the car seats back into Nora’s four-door pickup truck. As Nora got into the driver’s seat, Dina visibly deflated from where she stood at the side door. She’d been holding herself together for her daughter’s sake, it seemed, and she suddenly looked small and older.
Cliff may have been many things, but he had been a good man at heart, and no one would convince Easton otherwise. A good husband? Perhaps not, given the recent revelation. But a man could be good at heart and lousy with relationships. At least Easton hoped so, because he seemed to fall into that category himself. If it weren’t for Cliff, Easton’s life would have turned out a whole lot differently. Loyalty might be in short supply, but Easton knew where his lay.
He got into his own rusted-out Ford and followed Nora down the familiar drive toward his little house. His house. Should he feel so territorial about the old place? He’d fixed it up a fair amount since taking ownership, and the work had brought him a lot of comfort. He’d grown up in a drafty old house in town filled with his dad’s beer bottles and piles of dishes that never got washed. So when he found out that Cliff had left him the house and the land, something inside him had grown—like roots sinking down, giving more security than he’d ever had. He’d stared at that deed, awash in gratefulness. He’d never been a guy who let his feelings show, but he had no shame in the tears that misted his eyes when he shook the lawyer’s hand.
I shouldn’t have gotten attached. And that was the story of his life, learning not to get attached, because nothing really lasted.
The farmhouse was a small, two-story house with white wooden siding and a broad, covered front porch. He hadn’t been expecting company when he’d headed out for his morning chores, and he hoped that he’d left it decently clean. But this was his home, and while the situation was emotionally complicated, the legalities wouldn’t change. Mr. Carpenter had left it to him. The deed was in a safety deposit box at the bank.
After they’d parked, Easton hopped out of his truck and angled around to her vehicle, where she was already unbuckling car seats.
“Thanks,” Nora said as she passed him the first baby in her seat. “I don’t know how to balance three of them yet. I should probably call up Mackenzie Granger and see if she has any ideas. She’s got the twins, after all.”
He held the front door open for her with the heel of his boot and waited while she stepped inside. The sun was lowering in the sky, illuminating the simple interior. Nora paused as she looked around.
“It’s different than I left it.”
“Yeah...” He wasn’t sure how apologetic he should be here. “I got rid of the old furniture. It was pretty musty.”
Easton hadn’t put anything on the walls yet. He had a few pictures of his mother, but they didn’t belong on the wall. She’d run off when he was eight—left a letter stuck to the fridge saying she couldn’t handle it anymore, and that Easton was now his father’s problem. He’d never seen her again. Considering the only family pictures he had were a few snapshots of his mom, the walls had stayed bare.
“Why did my dad leave this house to you?” Nora turned to face him. “I can’t figure that part out. Why would he do that?”
Easton hadn’t been the one to hurt her, but he was the one standing in front of her, regardless, and he felt an irrational wave of guilt. He was caught up in her pain, whether he meant to be or not.
“I don’t know...” It had been a kind gesture—more than kind—and he’d wondered ever since if there were hidden strings. “A while ago, he said that he needed someone to take care of it, put some new life into it. I’d assumed that he wanted to rent it out or something. I didn’t expect this.”
“But this is my great-grandparents’ home,” she said. “I loved this place...”
She had... He remembered helping the family paint the old house one year when he was a teenager, and Nora had put fresh curtains in the windows in the kitchen—she’d sewn them in home economics class. She did love this old house, but then she’d gone to college and gotten a city job, and he’d just figured she’d moved on.
“You had your own life in the city. Maybe your dad thought—”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have roots here in Hope!” she shot back. “This house is mine. It should have been mine... My father should never have done this.” She had to point her anger at someone, and it was hard to tell off the dead.
“What he should have done is debatable,” Easton said. “But he made a choice.”
She didn’t answer him, and he didn’t expect her to. She hated this, but he couldn’t change facts, and he wasn’t about to be pushed around, either. They’d just have to try to sort out a truce over the next few days.
“I’m making some tea,” he added. “You want some?”
They’d been friends back in the day, but a lot had changed. Easton grew up and filled out. Nora had gone to college and moved to the city. He was now legal owner of a house she was still attached to, and an old friendship wasn’t going to be cushion enough for all of this.
“Yes, tea would be nice.” Her tone was tight.
“Nora.” He turned on the rattling faucet to fill up the kettle. “I don’t know what you think I did, but I never asked for this house. And I never angled for it.”
“You didn’t turn it down, either.”
No, he hadn’t. He could have refused the inheritance, but it had been an answer to midnight prayers, a way to step out from under his past. Mr. Carpenter’s gift had made him feel more like family and less like the messed-up kid who needed a job. Mr. Carpenter had seen him differently, but he suspected Nora still saw him the same way she always had—a skinny kid who would do pretty much anything she asked to make her happy.
And as dumb as it was, he also saw her the same way he always had—the beautiful girl whom he wished could see past his flaws and down to his core. He was a man now—not a boy, and most certainly not a charity case. Nora was a reminder of a time he didn’t want to revisit—when he’d been in love with a girl who took what he had to offer and never once saw him as more than a buddy. It hadn’t been only her...he’d been an isolated kid looking for acceptance anywhere he could get it, and he didn’t like those memories. They were marinated in loneliness.
That wasn’t who he was anymore. Everything had changed around here. Including him.
