Harlequin American Romance October 2013 Bundle: Twins Under the Christmas Tree\Big Sky Christmas\Her Wyoming Hero\A Rancher's Christmas (9 page)

Yeah, he would
. “He loved his pecan trees.”

“It was a good place to grow up, wasn't it?” Will said. “Plenty of room to run without disturbing any neighbors.”

“That's for sure.”

Will pointed to the farmhouse, where Javier and Miguel played. “What do the boys do while you work in the orchards?”

“I made them bring their crayons and coloring books and told them to stay on the porch.” Conway didn't want the kids anywhere near the shaker machine when he drove it through the rows.

“I could take the boys into town for root beers at Vern's Drive-In,” Will said.

No way was Will honing in on his charges. “They're fine right where they are.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.” Conway gritted his teeth, pissed off that his brother had riled him.

“Think I'll say hi to the boys.” Will walked off and it was all Conway could do to not tackle him to the ground.

Will stopped at the porch steps and spoke to them. Miguel laughed at whatever Will had said and it irked Conway that his brother amused the twins—that was his job.

Conway marched toward the group determined to find out what was so dang funny. He climbed the steps then froze. The boys had colored a highway system of roads from one end of the porch to the other. What happened to coloring in their books?

Miguel made
vroom
-
vroom
sounds as he moved a toy car over a bridge.

“Pretty ingenious if you ask me,” Will said.

Conway glared at his brother. “No one asked you.”

“Can I have a ride on the tractor?” Javier set his car aside.

“Not now. I want both of you to stay on the porch. It's too dangerous to be in the groves with pecans flying everywhere.”

“I don't care if I get hit by one,” Javier said.

“I'll make a deal with you,” Conway said. “I'll give you a ride on the tractor after I finish each row.” He figured one row up and down would take thirty minutes. He hoped the boys had enough patience to wait an hour. “Deal?”

“Okay,” Javier said.

“What if we get hungry?” Miguel asked.

“I could—”

“I'll take care of that right now,” Conway said, cutting off Will. He marched inside the house and rummaged through the pantry and fridge then returned with a stash of food—boxes of cereal, bags of chips, cans of soda and water bottles. “Don't eat all of this at once.”

“What if we have to use the bathroom?” Javier said.

Before Will had a chance to offer his services again, Conway said, “Don't you have somewhere to go?”

Will raised his hands and backed away. “See you later, guys.”

Conway motioned for the boys to follow him. “I'll show you where the toilet is.” They trailed Conway through the kitchen and up the stairs to the second floor. He opened the bathroom door and the boys poked their heads inside. “Make sure you flush the toilet and wash your hands, okay?”

“Okay,” the twins echoed.

They returned outside and Conway issued one last warning. “Don't leave the porch.”

“We know,” Miguel said.

“I'll be back when it's your turn for a ride on the tractor.” Conway skipped down the steps and walked to the orchard where Will waited. “What are you still doing here?”

“I forgot to tell you Johnny said he got a call a few days ago from an agricultural company.”

“What company?”

“Bell Farms out of southern California. They want buy the orchard.”

“Why didn't Johnny tell me?” Conway asked.

“I think he's waiting to see how you do with this year's harvest.”

“Grandpa would spin in his grave if we sold the place,” Conway said.

“Johnny wants to discuss selling at Thanksgiving and put it to a vote.”

Conway deserved more say in the decision than a simple vote.

“Good luck this afternoon.” Will got in his truck and drove off.

After Conway started the tractor he decided he was more determined than ever to show his siblings he could bring in the harvest by himself. He steered the tractor into the second row of trees, where the vibrating robotic arms shook trunk after trunk until it rained pecans.

After the fifteenth tree he noticed Miguel and Javier waving their arms at the end of the row. He turned off the tractor and shouted, “What's the matter?”

Miguel spoke but Conway was too far away to make out the words. He hopped off the machine and walked toward the boy. “What's wrong?”

“We don't want to color anymore,” Miguel said.

Swallowing his irritation, Conway said, “You can watch TV in the bunkhouse.” Isi had told him that she didn't allow the boys to watch TV very often, but he was running out of ideas to entertain them. Inside the bunkhouse he turned on the big-screen TV mounted against the wall across from the row of single beds. “What channel?” Will had installed a satellite dish behind the shed and they got over a hundred different television programs.

“Disney,” Javier said.

While Conway flipped through the directory, he noticed Miguel studying the posters of rodeo cowboys above the beds. “Do you like rodeo?”

Miguel shrugged.

“Have you ever been to a rodeo?”

The boys shook their heads no. Shoot, Conway had competed in his first mutton bustin' contest when he'd turned five. He positioned the sofa toward the TV. “Sit down.” After they crawled onto the cushions, he said, “Don't get into any trouble.”

“Is it my turn for a ride?” Javier asked.

“Not yet.” The way things were going Conway would be lucky to drive the shaker machine through five rows before dark. “I'll come get you in a while.”

A half hour later, Conway had made it to the end of the row and was about to head down another when Miguel dashed across the yard. The kid couldn't sit still for a minute. He raced up the porch steps, gathered an armful of snacks and attempted to carry them to the bunkhouse. He made it halfway, before he lost his load.

Conway considered helping Miguel, but he didn't have time. An hour later he shut down the machine and went into the bunkhouse. “You guys ready for a ride?” He gaped at the table covered in candy wrappers. “Did you eat all Porter's candy?”

“He lets us eat his candy,” Miguel said.

“You didn't ask him.”

“Can we ask him when he gets back?” Javier said.

“Forget it. You want a ride on the tractor or not?” He hated losing his patience, but he'd yet to make decent progress and half the afternoon was gone. When they reached the tractor, Conway sat Miguel next to him on the seat and Javier in his lap. He wasn't wasting time giving separate rides.

When they pleaded for Conway to show them how the shaker machine worked, he gave in and allowed the twins to remain on the tractor as he drove down the row, shaking tree after tree. Javier appeared fascinated by the process, Miguel not so much—he grew antsy and wanted to get off the tractor. When Conway reached the end of the row, he sent the boys back to the bunkhouse with the promise to check on them in an hour.

Time flew by and Conway shut down the tractor and shaker machine and made his way through the orchard. He got to within fifteen yards of the bunkhouse and heard shouting.

“You're in big trouble!” Miguel's voice carried through an open window.

“No, I'm not, you are!” Javier said.

Conway opened the door and stepped inside.

Both boys looked at each other and said, “He did it.”

Conway stared in disbelief at the large-screen TV resting facedown on the cement floor. “Don't move.” He crossed the room, grasped both boys by the seat of their pants and lifted them away from the broken glass, then carried them outside. “What the heck were you doing in there?” He didn't give the boys a chance to answer. “That TV cost over a thousand dollars.”

The boys' eyes widened.

He shoved a hand through his hair. “How am I supposed to harvest the pecans if you two won't stay out of trouble?”

“We didn't mean to break the TV,” Miguel said.

“Stay here.” Conway retrieved a broom and dustpan from the storage closet then spent the next twenty minutes sweeping up glass. When he returned outside, the boys were lying on their backs in the dirt staring up at the sky.

“How much is a thousand dollars?” Miguel asked, crawling to his knees.

“A lot of money.”

Miguel kicked Javier's leg. “It's your fault.” Miguel faced Conway. “Javi threw his pillow at me, but I ducked and it hit the TV.”

“Are you gonna be mad at us forever?” Javier asked, getting to his feet.

“No, but I need time to cool off.” He walked the boys back to the porch.

“Are you gonna tell our mom we broke your TV?”

“I haven't decided.” Conway's anger was dying a fast death at the scared expressions on the boys' faces. He'd broken his share of things as a kid and Grandma Ada hadn't punished him harshly.

“We're gonna be grounded forever.” Miguel sighed.

The boys walked to the end of the porch and sat on the swing.

“We won't leave the porch,” Javier said.

Conway trusted them to keep their word. No doubt they were more than a little worried about what their mother would say when she found out what they'd done.

Chapter Nine

Isi reread the first paragraph of her term paper, satisfied she'd nailed the opening. Three sentences later, her mind wandered. The boys should be awake by now. Rarely did they sleep in and she worried they were coming down with colds.

Last night when she'd arrived home from the bar, she'd been surprised to find Conway's truck parked in front of her trailer, because they'd agreed that the boys would sleep at the farm while he harvested the pecans. When she'd asked why he'd brought them home, he'd said he thought it was best that they sleep in their own beds.

She shut down the computer and left the kitchen. When she opened her sons' door, she discovered them dressed and sitting on their beds, wearing glum expressions. “Hey, you two, what's the big secret?” Their eyes widened—not a good sign.

“Aren't you hungry?” she asked.

They hopped off their beds and filed past her, shoes dragging across the carpet.
Oh, dear
. They sat at the kitchen table and she felt their foreheads—no fever. “What's going on?”

“Conway's mad at us,” Miguel said.

“Why?” When neither of them explained, she pulled out a chair and sat. “What happened at the farm yesterday?”

Javier refused to make eye contact with her, so she swung her gaze to Miguel. “I'm waiting...”

“We broke Conway's TV.”

Isi gasped. “How?”

Miguel stamped his foot. “It was Javi's fault!”

“Was not!”

“Was so!”

“Stop.” She slapped her hand against the table, startling her sons. “Javi, how did the TV break?”

“We had a pillow fight 'cause we were bored.”

“Where was the TV?” she asked.

“In the bunkhouse,” Miguel said.

Why had the boys been in the bunkhouse by themselves? Conway had promised to keep them close by while he worked.

“How big was the TV?” Isi mentally calculated the meager amount she'd saved for the boys' Christmas presents.

“This big.” Javier spread his arms wide.

“It cost a thousand dollars,” Miguel said.

A thousand dollars?

Why hadn't Conway told her about the TV last night?

Because he knows you don't have the money to replace it
.

Isi rubbed her brow. Conway had done so much to help her—more than he should have, and the boys breaking his TV made her feel horrible. “We're going to have to pay for a new TV.”

As she cooked breakfast, she worried over how she'd come up with the money to replace the TV. Maybe Conway would allow her to make monthly payments. Poor Conway—he needed a break from her sons. She could skip class but not work—she couldn't afford to lose any hours when she lived paycheck to paycheck. There had been many times when she'd almost given in and confronted Tyler Smith, demanding he pay child support but pride had stopped her. If she'd had to choose between her pride and feeding the boys she would have pursued Tyler with relentless determination, but things had never gotten that bad.

A half hour later Conway's truck pulled in front of the trailer and Isi's heart pounded with dread. “Conway's here.” She turned from the window and caught her sons fleeing to their bedroom.
Chickens
.

She met a sober-faced Conway at the door. “The boys told me about the TV. I'm sorry.”

He shrugged off her apology. “It was my fault. I shouldn't have left them alone in the bunkhouse.”

“The boys knew better than to have a pillow fight when they were a guest in someone else's home.” She squeezed his hand. “I want to cover the cost of the TV, but I'll have to make monthly payments.”

“You're not paying for the TV,” he said.

When the boys' bedroom door banged open, Isi realized she still held Conway's hand. She released her grip as her sons walked into the living room with their ceramic piggy banks.

“You can have our money to pay for a new TV.” Miguel held out his pig to Conway.

“Mine, too,” Javier said.

Isi was so proud of her sons.

“And you can smash 'em 'cause we smashed your TV,” Miguel said.

“I have an idea on how you can make up for breaking the TV,” Conway said.

“How?” Miguel asked.

“You're both going to collect the branches and twigs that fall from the trees after the shaker machine knocks the nuts loose.”

“How many sticks do we gotta collect?” Javier asked.

“All of them.” Conway kept a straight face, and Isi bit her lip to keep from laughing at her sons' astonished expressions.

“Let's get going. We've got a lot of work to do.” Conway held open the door and waited for the boys to put their banks away.

“Be good.” Isi watched them walk off as if marching to the gallows. Once they were out of earshot, she said, “Please let me make payments on the TV.”

“Forget about it, Isi. It was an accident. Porter and Buck are shopping for a new TV right now.” He stepped onto the porch. “See you tonight.”

“You're bringing the boys back here to sleep then?”

“I think it's best for all three of us to have a break from each other at night.”

“Would you mind staying a bit longer then? Will and I are going to a late movie at the mall after I get off work.”

“You're going out with Will again?”

“You sound surprised,” she said.

“Will never said anything to me.”

“Is it okay if we go to the movies?”

“I guess.”

He didn't sound too enthusiastic. Maybe Conway was jealous of his brother.

She could only hope.

* * *

“H
OW
COME
WE
gotta get boots?” Miguel asked, following Conway through Boot Barn with Javier.

“'Cause that's what rodeo cowboys wear. Jeans, a long-sleeve shirt and boots.” Conway had felt guilty the past week while he'd harvested the nuts. Since breaking the TV, the boys had been on their best behavior and hadn't stepped off the porch—not once—unless Conway said it was okay. He'd finished most of the harvesting and was ahead of schedule, that's why he decided to surprise the twins and take them to a rodeo, where they could enter a mutton bustin' competition.

“Can I help you, sir?” An older gentleman approached them.

“These wranglers need a pair of boots,” Conway said.

“Have a seat.” The salesman pulled up a bench. “Be right back.” He brought two boot boxes from the storeroom and knelt before the twins. He slid a brown pair on Javier's feet and a black pair on Miguel's. “Walk in them and tell me if they fit.”

The boys shuffled up and down the aisle.

“What do you think?” Conway asked.

“I want the black ones,” Javier said.

“I want the brown ones,” Miguel said.

The salesman shook his head. “Thought for sure I had the right colors picked out for them.”

“Okay, switch boots,” Conway said.

Once the boys traded pairs, they raced to the end of the aisle. “Can we wear 'em now?” Javier asked.

“You bet.” The salesman placed the boys' sneakers into the boot boxes then escorted them to the register and Conway got out his credit card.

After they left the store, he drove to Somerton, a small town twelve miles south of Yuma, where the Tamale Festival was in full swing. The annual event was sponsored by an Arizona State University Alumni chapter and the proceeds benefited local students attending ASU. Mutton bustin' happened to be one of the moneymakers at the festival and Conway hoped the boys would have fun.

“Where are we going?” Miguel spoke from the backseat.

“The Tamale Festival.”

“My mom makes tamales,” Javier said.

“What are we gonna do at the festival?”

Conway glanced at Miguel in the rearview mirror. The kid never stopped talking. “Wait and see.” Fifteen minutes later, he parked in a gravel lot next to a small outdoor arena then opened the back door and helped the boys out of the truck. As soon as their boots hit the ground, Conway said, “Wait here.” He rummaged through the truck toolbox and removed a pair of straw cowboy hats then set them on the twins' heads. “Now you're ready to rodeo.”

After paying for their admission, he bought hot dogs then they sat in the stands and ate, while watching rodeo helpers set up the arena for the mutton bustin' contest.

“Ladies and gents, welcome to the twenty-first annual Tamale Festival and Rodeo. Hold on to your hats, we're about to kick off the mutton bustin' races.” After the announcer spoke, one of the chute doors opened across the arena and a sheep ran out with a young boy clinging to its back.

Both Javier and Miguel watched the sheep race through the arena. The kid finally fell off then he got to his feet and waved to his parents in the stands.

“Well, folks, Billy Baker will have to keep working on his technique. Better luck next time, buckaroo!”

“What do you guys think? Would you like to ride a sheep?” Conway asked.

“Can we?” Miguel's eyes shone with excitement. Javier inched closer to Conway.

“You don't have to ride, Javi. Only if you want to.”

Javi poked Miguel in the shoulder. “You go first.”

“Let's sign you up, Miguel.” Conway guided the boys through the throng of rodeo fans to a table next to the chutes. While they waited in line, he studied a man and his daughter a few feet ahead of them. The cowboy looked familiar. He turned and Conway recognized him. Tyler Smith's gaze clashed with Conway's then he spotted the twins and stiffened. Even though Isi had told Conway that Smith had rejected his sons, the cowboy had probably seen her and the boys around town.

“Smith,” Conway said.

“Cash.” There were questions in Smith's eyes, but damned if Conway would answer them. “Is your daughter entering the contest?”

“Yes.” Smith's gaze strayed back to the boys.

“We gotta move up.” Miguel tugged on Conway's hand.

“Hold on, Miguel,” Conway said.

“Are you gonna ride a sheep?” Javier asked the young girl standing with Smith.

She smiled shyly and nodded.

“Me, too,” Javier said.

Hell, the boys had no clue the little girl was their half sister. Talk about ironic—Tyler Smith's kids all chatting together as if they were best friends. Smith's face paled as he took his daughter's hand and pulled her out of line. “Let's go.”

“But, Daddy...”

Conway didn't catch the rest of the girl's words as her father walked off with her.

“How come they left?” Javi asked.

“I don't think her father was feeling well.” Served Smith right to see what he'd tossed aside. They moved up in line and Conway paid Miguel's entry fee then pinned his contestant number to the back of his shirt.

Next they stood behind the sheep chute, waiting their turn. The boys took in all the action, watching the rodeo helpers put helmets on the kids before setting them on the sheep.

“Ready, cowboy?” a rodeo worker asked when Miguel arrived at the front of the line. Once he sat on the sheep, Conway said, “Wait a second. I want to take a picture.” He removed the camera he'd purchased at the drugstore earlier in the week after he'd decided to take the boys to the rodeo. Isi was always snapping photos of the boys, and he figured she'd be upset if she didn't have pictures of them mutton bustin'.

“Done,” he said.

The gate opened and the sheep trotted into the arena.

He climbed the rails to take a second picture. “Go get 'em, Miguel!”

Miguel had no trouble hanging on until the sheep switched gears and ran hard. Conway thought for sure the boy would fall, but he clung to the sheep's fur. The cheering crowd rose to their feet.

Hang on, Mig
.
Hang on, buddy
.

Miguel made it all the way across the arena before the rodeo helpers caught up with the sheep and cornered it.

“Folks, I think you witnessed a future National Finals Rodeo bronc rider!”

As applause echoed through the stands, Conway felt Smith's eyes watching him from two chutes away. He'd thought the man had left the rodeo. Pissed off, Conway hopped down from the rails. “Stay here, Javi. I'll be right back.”

He approached Smith. “You're an ass, you know that? And wipe that grin off your face. You haven't earned the right to smile at your son.” Conway didn't know what had possessed him to speak that like to Smith, but he felt protective of the boys.

“This is none of your business, Cash.”

“The hell you say?” Conway noticed a woman talking to the little girl Smith had been with at the sign-in table—probably his wife. “You're wrong. It is my business, you know why?” Smith didn't rise to the bait. “You abandoned your sons. I know all about fathers who walk out on their kids. Those kids never want anything to do with their fathers after they're grown-up. When you're old and wanting to make amends for your sins, don't expect forgiveness.” He nodded to Javier and Miguel back at the sheep chute. “Kids don't forget and they don't forgive.” He'd had his say, so Conway walked off.

“Are you mad, Conway?” Javi asked.

“No. You did great, Miguel. I'm proud of you.” He gave the boy a high five.

“Javi you gotta try it,” Miguel said.

Conway bent down and looked Javier in the eye. “You ready?”

Javier slipped his hand inside Conway's. “What if I get hurt?”

“You won't, 'cause you gotta wear a helmet,” Miguel said. “C'mon, Javi, you can do it.”

Javier straightened his shoulders. “I'm gonna ride.”

Once Conway paid his entry fee, the rodeo helpers put a helmet on Javier and set him on the sheep's back. The gate opened and Conway snapped two pictures before Javi slipped sideways and dropped to the ground. He got up, brushed off his jeans and raced back to the chute.