Twins Under The Tree. Leigh Riker

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       CHAPTER FIVE

      WHEN THE SUN went down, Hadley was still fuming. He imagined that the red ball of fire sliding toward the horizon, as if to define the western edge of Clara’s ranch in the blaze of color, might draw him with it. Hadley would slip right over the boundary of her pancake-flat land like a man falling—or jumping—into an active volcano, then vanish from the twins’ lives. That would probably suit Jenna.

      The rare spurt of self-pity lasted just long enough to remind him that he didn’t have the luxury of thinking about himself.

      Before Barney had revealed the surprise bank account, he’d told Hadley that Amy did not have a safe-deposit box at the bank. So the location of the guardianship papers was still a mystery, and now he had a different problem. The threat Jenna posed as the beneficiary of Amy’s account. He felt hamstrung. He didn’t want anyone else in charge, especially a woman with no blood ties to the twins; he could take care of his own babies.

      Hadley turned to the young cowhand he’d hired half an hour ago. “I’ll be at a cattle auction tomorrow. While I’m gone, make sure the south fence is tight—and if there’s a hole, fix it. With luck I’ll bring back some stock.” He planned to use the ranch’s meager amount of cash to buy the cows. After those funds were gone, he’d have to see Barney again about the loan he hadn’t applied for before he stomped out of the bank.

      Cory Jennings grinned. Shorter than Hadley by an inch or two, he still stood over six feet. His dancing dark eyes met his. “Said I’ll do a good job for you. That means taking the horse to ride fence.”

      A few days ago, Hadley and Clara had pooled enough money to buy the ranch’s one horse, a rangy sorrel from a “dealer” who’d stopped in Barren on his way to Colorado. Hadley doubted the gelding was worth even the three hundred dollars they’d paid. In his view the horse had been on the road to the glue factory. Lucky for the horse, he’d found two people with soft hearts and desperate for any help the sorrel might provide in return for saving his life. “You sure you can ride him?”

      Cory pointed at the big belt buckle he wore, a prize he’d won in some rodeo. “I can ride anything.” Retired from competition, Cory was one of many mid-level players in the sport, Hadley supposed, but he didn’t lack confidence. Cory could even be cocky. “Mean broncs, rank bulls… I’m an all-around cowboy.”

      Hadley tilted his head toward the nearby stall. “Yeah, well, this one has a tendency to buck so I guess that means you can handle him.” He suppressed a brief flash of concern. Should he trust Cory? How capable was he? He knew very little about him. “Just in case, carry your cell. You get into trouble, call Clara at the house.” Before the upcoming auction, Hadley hadn’t found time to check the fence himself.

      Cory’s grin widened. “I’ll not only secure your fence, I’ll whip that nag into shape real quick. I’ve got the touch.”

      “But remember, the horse spooks at the slightest cause for alarm. A piece of white paper blowing across the yard. The hoot of a barn owl. A car coming up the drive.” If that was Jenna, he could understand the reaction. The gelding took particular exception to the sound of Clara’s dinner bell, rusty after years of disuse, being rung from the back porch. “Treat Mr. Robert like the gentleman he should be.”

      “He’s no gentleman, all right.” Cory ran a hand through his wheat-colored hair. “But then, neither am I.”

      “I wouldn’t know,” Hadley muttered. The ex–rodeo “star” had come with only vague references, but he and Clara weren’t in any position to demand them. For now, they needed help—and Cory had been their only candidate. “Just do the job, keep your nose clean, and I’ll pay you.” Somehow.

      Still, he had to admit, the guy was an enigma. He’d seemed to fall from the sky exactly when Hadley had needed him, and Hadley couldn’t be choosy. In a way he reminded him of the kids he and his brother had been long ago, being abandoned here and there, which had turned Hadley into a drifter. He wondered if the same had happened to Dallas and where he might be now. On the road somewhere, as Cory had been? How long would he stay? Hadley blocked out the thought. If he was going to get Clara’s ranch going again, he had to make it happen any way he could. For her, the twins and himself.

      Cory started down the aisle toward the feed room, which was a mass of cobwebs at the moment, then stopped. When he turned around, his gaze faltered. “I left my gear in my truck. Where am I supposed to sleep?”

      Hadley hadn’t considered that. There was no room in Clara’s house. The day after they’d hatched their plan to get the ranch on its feet again, he’d inspected the old foreman’s bungalow. But the floor had nearly buckled under his feet, the boards were so rotten and warped. The front windows were broken, the toilet was missing, and there were mouse droppings everywhere. The bungalow made the foreman’s house at the NLS seem like a palace. “If I were you, I’d lay some fresh straw in the loft tonight. You can eat your meals with me and Mrs. McMann. We’ll figure something better out—but not today.”

      “I can sleep anywhere,” Cory said with a shrug. He walked back to Hadley, then stuck out his hand. “Thanks for taking a chance on me.”

      As if not many people did. Hadley could understand that. They shook, and Hadley couldn’t help but think of today’s meeting with Barney Caldwell and Jenna at the bank. He sure could have used that account money—at his discretion—to put the McMann ranch on solid footing again, but Amy hadn’t given him that power. Hadley had a new idea, though, which made him smile. He would definitely speak to Jenna again.

      But all he said to Cory was, “Don’t let me down.”