Authors: Judy Christenberry
In the distance, Camille heard a siren. “I think the ambulance is getting close.”
“Toby, you want to go outside and show them where they’re needed?” Jake suggested.
“Aw, Daddy, I want to stay here and—”
Jake shot his stepson a sternook, and the little boy broke off his protest. With dragging boots, he shuffled out of the barn to do his father’s bidding.
Camille smiled. Jake and Toby were a pair. It was hard to believe he wasn’t Toby’s biological father. BJ. had been widowed when Toby was a baby. Jake and Toby shared the same coloring, and now, after B.J. and Toby moved here a couple of years ago, Toby patterned his behavior after his new dad.
Camille’s gaze came back to the stranger, who was carefully studying all of them, but most especially the two Randall men. He had the same dark hair and brown eyes as the Randalls. But he couldn’t have intentionally developed their expressions, their mannerisms, because he’d never seen them before.
So why was he just like them?
The ambulance, from Rawhide, had arrived and Toby led the two paramedics into the barn. Everyone stood back while they examined the man and rolled out a stretcher.
“Looks like busted ribs and a mild concussion,” one of the medics said to B.J. “We’d better get him into town for Doc to look at him.” They laid Barney on the stretcher and rolled him out to the ambulance, with everyone trailing.
Once they closed the back door of the ambulance, Pete said to the driver, “Tell Doc to fix him up. I’ll be in after dinner to check on him, unless it’s more serious than you think.”
“Naw, Pete, he’ll be all right. I’ll pass the message on to Doc.”
Silence fell over the group as they watched the ambulance drive away. Then Jake turned to the new arrival. “Griff, I owe you thanks. I might be in the same shape as Barney if you hadn’t grabbed that mangy horse.”
“No problem.”
“How did you settle him down?” Pete asked.
The man shrugged his shoulders. “I just talked to him.”
Pete studied the man. Camille wondered if Pete realized how expensively dressed the man was. In Wyoming, everyone dressed in jeans and a shirt. The man was wearing jeans, but with a designer label. And his starched shirt didn’t look as if it came cheap, either. She knew the Rolex on his wrist cost a bundle.
“You lookin’ for work?” Pete asked finally.
“No.”
As if he hadn’t heard the abrupt answer, Pete continued, “’Cause I could use a good hand. I run rodeo stock. Sometimes they’re hard to deal with.”
“Sorry.”
Not a talkative man, Camille decided with a grin.
“Whether you want a job or not,” Jake said, “you earned a good meal. Come on in. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
“No. I don’t want to intrude. I need to have a word with you, that’s all,” the man said, his gaze meeting Jake’s.
“With me?”
“Yeah, you’re head of the family, aren’t you?” He shifted his gaze from Jake to B.J. and back again. “That’s what your wife said.”
Jake’s lips twitched as he looked first at BJ. and then Pete. “Hell, yes, I’m the head of the family. But I don’t think I can talk until after I feed myself. Come on, Griff. We won’t poison you.”
Taking BJ.’s hand, he led the way into the house, expecting everyone to follow. Everyone did, except the stranger. Camille watched out of the corn of her eye as the man clearly stood debating the invitation.
She unconsciously gave a sigh of relief as he finally began walking after them. Startled, she questioned her interest in the man’s capitulation. After all, it meant nothing to her. She wasn’t part of the Randall clan. Well, except by connection.
Her father had briefly been married to Megan’s mother. They’d divorced, but she and Megan had remained friends. Since Megan had married Chad, that made Camille an ex-step-sister to one of the Randall wives.
All of which had nothing to do with the intense interest she felt in the man behind her. When his arm came around her to hold the back door open, her breath caught in her throat. He was as big as the other Randalls—but he wasn’t one, of course, or they would’ve recognized him.
Besides, they had no other family members—
Suddenly, she gasped and whirled around to stare at the man behind her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gravelly.
“Nothing!” she snapped, and faced forward again, passing through the mudroom to the kitchen, hoping the heat in her cheeks would quickly dissipate. But the thought that had popped into her head left her mind spinning.
She’d read about such events in books. Was she going to see it played out before her? And would it hurt Jake and the others? Because it suddenly occurred to her that this man could be an illegitimate brother.
Which would mean their father, Gus Randall, had betrayed their mother.
Oh, dear.
“What’s going on out there?” Red, their cowboy housekeeper, called as they all entered the kitchen. “We heard the ambulance.”
“Barney tried to work with the new bronc I brought in. He got pounded,” Pete explained.
“He gonna be all right?” Red asked calmly. He’d seen many a disaster in his long years on the ranch.
“Yeah. Concussion and ribs,” Pete added.
“Red, we need to set an extra plate for dinner,” Jake said, changing the subject. “Griff, here, helped me out, and I invited him to eat with us.”
“Please, if it’s any trouble—” the man began.
“No trouble at all,” Red said. Then he looked at Jake. “Did you warn him?”
Jake shook his head, and everyone grinned. Camille saw the puzzled look on the man’s handsome face. She’d had the same reaction. Since she was closest to him, she said softly, “It’s rather a large family. With a lot of babies.”
BJ. sighed. “I’m afraid Camille is right. But we feed the babies first and put them in the playpens,” she said, gesturing to the three playpens that lined the far wall.
“Not me!” Toby protested. “I’m too old for those things,” he assured the man, stretching to look taller.
“And you’re big enough to lend a hand, pardner,” Red added. “Start hauling these platters to the table.”
“I’ll help, too, Red,” Camille said as she moved to the stove. Unfortunately, she didn’t allow enough space as she cut through the men and bumped into the newcomer’s rock-hard chest. His large, warm hands caught her shoulders as she bounced back from him. “Sorry,” she muttered, trying to hide her reaction to his touch. The shivers coursing through her body didn’t make sense.
“No problem,” he returned.
“Where’s Mildred?” Jake asked, naming Red’s wife, his assistant and B.J.’s aunt all rolled into one lady.
“She’s up helping Janie with all the little ones. With Anna teaching that class and B.J. working and Megan gone to town, she needed help.”
“I’ll go hurry them up,” B.J. said as she headed for the stairs.
“I’ll show Griff where he can wash up,” Jake said.
As the man followed Jake, Red stopped him. “Hell, you look just like the others. Who are you, boy?”
The man seemed startled by Red’s frankness. Pete rescued him. “He’s a hell of a horseman, and I’m trying to hire him.”
“Don’t mind Red,” Jake added. “He’s not known for his subtlety.”
Red snorted as the three men left the room. “No need to circle the mountain for days before climbing it. You see the resemblance?” he asked Camille.
“Yes, but Red, what if he’s an illegitimate son? What if their daddy—?”
“Nope. Their daddy didn’t mess around. Even after their mother died when Chad was born, he didn’t have any women.”
She sighed. “Then I don’t understand it. I mean, everyone is supposed to have a double in the world, but I’ve never seen—”
“What have you never seen?” Chad asked, a grin on his face as he and Brett, the two youngest of the Randall brothers, strolled into the kitchen.
Brett ignored his brother’s question. “Is Anna back yet?”
“Or Megan?” Chad added.
The Randall men liked to keep track of their women. It restored Camille’s faith in love.
“Nope. Neither of ’em. And dinner’s almost ready.”
Camille carried another platter to the table, this one full of chicken-fried steak. Toby was putting out napkins. Then he began pulling high chairs to the table. They needed three high chairs, for Elizabeth, two and a half years old, Chad and Megan’s child; for Caroline, nineteen months, Toby’s little sister; and one for Victoria, Brett and Anna’s baby, the youngest at seven months.
The three-year-old twins, Richard and Russell, Pete and Janie’s boys, used booster seats.
When Camille had first arrived, it had taken her a few days to recover from the shock of them all. But the longer she stayed, the more she fell in love with a family who worked together, pitching in whenever one of the adults needed an extra hand.
It sounded like a thundering herd coming down the stairs as Mildred, B.J. and Janie arrived with all the children.
Mass pandemonium reigned for a few moments as they all tried to get the children settled in their places and start dinner. Even Toby played a role, helping the twins. He always said the menfolk should stick together. But he was sweetly tender with the girls.
Jake and Griff returned to the kitchen in the middle of all the settling in, and Camille grinned as she saw the startled expression on Griff’s face. It was an improvement over the grim look he’d shown them earlier.
She wondered what he’d look like if he smiled. He caught her staring, and she hurried back to the sink to find something to do to hide her red cheeks.
“It’ll be our turn in a minute,” Jake assured him. “Our kids don’t mess around when it comes to dinner.”
“How true,” B.J. agreed with a big smile. “They take after their fathers.”
“And that’s how we like it, sweetheart.” Jake stroked a strand of hair behind her ear that had escaped from B.J.’s long braid. “Need any help?”
“No, I think we’ve got it covered. Do I hear a car?”
Brett and Chad met each other at the window. “Two cars. Megan and Anna are home,” Chad announced. Both of them headed to the door, eager to greet their wives.
By the time both couples had returned to the kitchen, the children were fed. Everyone grabbed a child to transfer him or her to a playpen, though the twins protested, asking to stay with Toby.
In no time, Mildred and Red had cleaned up and invited everyone to sit down at the huge table.
Jake led Griff to the last place on the side next to his seat, at the head of the table. Camille found herself next to him. She shivered again as his broad shoulder brushed against hers.
What was wrong with her? She’d been around men before. She’d even been engaged recently. Before disaster had struck her. So why did this man affect her so? She eased along the bench, trying to put some distance between them, but Brett, on her other side, wasn’t shifting.
Jake offered an introduction of Griff to the newly arrived family members. After the blessing was asked and the plates began making their way around the table, Brett noted what had struck the others.
“Man, you sure look like the rest of us, Jake in particular,” Brett said. “Are you some long-lost relative?”
Griff, who had been serving himself from the steak platter, stilled. Then he carefully put the meat on his plate and laid down his utensils.
His chin came up and his lips firmed into a straight line. “Yes. I probably should’ve introduced myself before I sat down. If you want me to leave—”
Camille watched him, fascinated and unexpectedly anxious, but she also caught a glimpse of Jake out of the corn of her eye. He didn’t seem alarmed at the man’s words. Just curious.
. “We’re not going to take back our invitation, Griff,” Jake said quietly. “You more than earned a meal when you helped out in the barn. But why don’t you tell us just who you are.”
He cleared his throat and stiffened his shoulders, as if he was about to impart bad news. “I’m Margaret’s son. Griffin Randall.”
Chapter Two
I
n the silence that fell, Chad stared at Griff and asked, “Who the hell—uh, heck,” he repaired after Megan elbowed him in the ribs, “is Margaret?”
Red didn’t wait for an answer. Seated at the other end of the table, he stood, his face paling, and began walking toward Griff.
Ah, here it came, Griff thought almost with relief. He’d been a little lost in the midst of the warm hospitality of these people. He’d expected anger.
He stood to meet what was coming head-on.
“You’re Margaret’s son?” Red asked softly, with wonder in his eyes. “How is she? Where is she?”
“Who is she?” Chad repeated, frowning.
“She’s Dad’s sister,” Jake explained quietly.
Red came closer, and Griff thought the old man intended to punch him out. Then, all at once, Red enveloped him in a bear hug. Griff reared back in surprise.
“Sorry, boy, I startled you, didn’t I?”
Griff frowned at the older man and nodded his head. “You’re not angry?”
“Why would I be? We worried about Margaret for years. Gus finally gave her up for dead.”
“She is dead,” Griffin said harshly. He watched the various reactions of the people gathered around the table.
Jake stood and extended his hand. Again Griff stared at the gesture. Finally, he gripped Jake’s strong hand and looked into his unknown cousin’s gaze.
“Welcome home, Griff.”
“This is not my home.” His words were uttered with the anger he’d expected from them.
“Maybe not, but it should’ve been,” Jake said, sitting back down. “Don’t let your food get cold. We’ll find out why you’re here later.”
Griff stared at Jake and then Red. The older man patted his arm and returned to his seat at the head of the table.
These people weren’t what he expected. In looks, yes, though it had startled him to see how much he resembled his cousins. But, somehow, after listening to his mother’s heartbreaking words when she talked of her home, he’d expected a lot of hostility.
And he felt a lot of hostility inside himself. His mother had suffered because of these people.
Or their relatives.
With a sigh, he sat back down. The lady beside him, Camille, he thought her name was, silently offered a plate of biscuits. When he glared at her, she gave him a sympathetic smile.