Her Twins' Cowboy Dad. Patricia Johns
to see Mr. Davis?” Colt asked.
She nodded. “You, too?”
“Yeah. I’m Colt Hardin. And you are...?”
The color drained from her face and she licked her lips. Did she recognize his name? “Jane Marshall. Pleasure.”
“So you’re...a relative of Beau’s?” he asked, and his stomach sank. There weren’t too many Marshalls left—at least not in name. It seemed like every Marshall family had girl after girl, and after they married and took their husbands’ names there was yet another branch of the family tree without the Marshall name. Beau had complained about it to no end.
“My husband was Josh Marshall,” she replied. “He died, but Beau Marshall was his father.”
Josh—his cousin. Colt’s heart stuttered, then hammered to catch up. So this was the wife—but he didn’t even know that Josh had had kids. None of the family had ever seen pictures of his wife—Josh had only announced his marriage and then gone silent. This woman was slim, with dark hair and pale skin. She was pretty, but rumpled. Her pink sundress tugged up at one hip where she held Michal, and the other toddler was pulling at a loose thread at her shoulder.
“You’re Josh’s wife?” Colt repeated. His voice sounded choked in his own ears.
She nodded. “I am. And you’re his cousin. Josh told me about you.”
That was almost more than he could say. When Josh took off for the city, he’d cut contact with all of them except for an email once every few years with some pertinent information, like when he joined the army and when he got married. And the army had told them when Josh was killed... So Colt had heard absolutely nothing about her besides the fact that she’d married into the family.
“What was your name, again?” he asked.
“Jane Marshall,” she replied. “This is Susanna and Michal, or Suzie and Micha for short.”
“They have the Marshall look,” he said. The fiery red hair that hung in curls around those identical, chubby faces, for one. “But Josh died, what, three years ago?”
“They are Marshalls,” she replied, her tone hardening just a touch. “Josh never got to meet them. He...” She swallowed. “He died before they were born.”
“He never told us—” he said.
“Yes, he did. He told his father I was pregnant,” she cut him off. “Beau contacted me once after they were born.”
“Really.” Beau had never mentioned it to him, and they’d worked together daily for twenty years. Beau had complained often enough about his ungrateful son.
So there had been granddaughters that Beau had never made reference to. That was just like the man—keep Colt working like a horse and never tell him anything that might interfere with his dedication to the ranch. Because Josh wasn’t any help at all having left for the city, and Colt had been the one to shoulder the responsibility of keeping this ranch running all these years. Beau’s health had only been getting worse, and he’d been handing off more and more of the daily running of the place until Colt was doing just about everything. Beau had promised Colt ten years ago that he’d leave him the ranch, keep it in the family. In fact, that was what pushed Josh away to begin with, when Beau told him that if he wasn’t going to take ranching seriously, he’d cut him out of the will. Not a single acre would go to Josh, Beau had vowed, but now that Josh’s widow was here for the reading of the will, he had to wonder if Beau had been stringing him along all these years.
Anything was possible with Beau.
The office door opened and Steve Davis, a portly older gentlemen, poked his head out. Colt knew the lawyer relatively well. There weren’t too many lawyers in Creekside, and he attended the same church that Colt did. Steve had been at the funeral.
“Colt, again, I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Thank you.” Colt stepped forward and shook Steve’s hand. “I appreciate it.”
“And you must be Jane?” Steve asked turning to the woman beside him.
“Yes, that’s me.” She hitched a toddler higher on her hip. “I hope bringing the girls with me wasn’t a problem.”
“No, of course not,” Steve said. “Let’s go into my office.”
Colt stood back as Jane passed into the office first. Micha stared at him with those big brown eyes as she passed, while Suzie seemed more interested in trying to squirm out of her mother’s arms. He stepped into the office after Jane, then pulled the door shut behind him. Jane took a seat in front of Steve’s wide desk and dug in her shoulder bag, emerging with a ziplock bag of crackers.
Colt eased into the seat next to her, and he watched as she doled out crackers into the toddlers’ hands. They sat down on the floor, two crackers each, and set to munching on them.
“You were the only people mentioned in Beau Marshall’s will,” Steve began. “Colt, you were named, as well as his grandchildren. After Josh’s death, Beau updated his will so that their mother would be conservator of their inheritance if he were to die while they were still minors.”
“He knew about them,” Colt said woodenly.
“Yes,” Steve confirmed. “He did. He spoke to me about them after they were born.”
“Josh told him about my pregnancy,” Jane said. “Josh died when I was about six months pregnant and he was deployed. Anyway, I emailed Beau with a couple of pictures once they were born. I think Josh would have wanted that.”
“Did anyone else know?” Colt asked, still trying to make sense of all of this in his head. How much had his uncle been hiding from him?
“Not that I know of,” Steve replied. “Beau was a man who kept his own counsel. I think you know that.” Steve opened a file folder and looked between Colt and Jane.
“A conservator—what does that mean?” Jane asked.
“It means that you will be able to manage your daughters’ inheritance as you see fit and split the remainder of it between them when they turn eighteen.”
“Oh...”
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Steve said.
Colt looked over at Jane, and she glanced toward him at the same time. She looked nervous—her lips were pale and she was fidgeting with that plastic bag of crackers. He knew what Beau had promised him, but he also knew exactly how far Beau could be trusted. Somehow, after Josh left because of this will and all the pain the family went through surrounding it, Colt hadn’t considered the idea that Beau might change the will completely. But it was possible.
“To Colt Hardin, my nephew, I leave the ranch,” Steve read, his voice calm and quiet, and Colt felt a wave of relief. “I leave him all of the land, the buildings and the debt that has accrued over the years. Of anyone, Colt will be able to make something of it. I’m pleased to keep this ranch in the family.”
The ranch. Thank You, God. He knew the land was mortgaged to the hilt, but if everything just continued as it was, he could work his way out of debt. The ranch was his. Uncle Beau had done as he’d promised, and Colt could go on running this ranch like he’d hoped.
Steve turned toward Jane. “And to my grandchildren, the children of my only son, Joshua Marshall, I leave the herd to be split between them equally.”
The lawyer’s words hung in the air, and Colt felt like his breath had been knocked out of his chest. Beau had left Colt the land, but he’d given his toddler granddaughters the cattle? How on earth was he supposed to run a floundering ranch when he didn’t own the actual animals? Beau had kept his promise, all right. Colt had the land. But without that herd, without the income at market time, Colt could lose it all.
* * *
Jane