“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too happy.”
“He didn’t even like that picture.” He paused before asking his brother in a whisper, though no one could hear them, “Was she really naked?”
“Naw,” Gareth assured him. “She was wearing a swimsuit or something. But girls sure are different from us.” He glanced down at his flat, narrow chest with a frown.
“Yeah. Curly looks at pictures like that sometimes,” Justin added, naming one of their father’s cowboys.
“Yeah.”
Justin thought a littler longer, a mighty frown on his face. “If Daddy doesn’t even like to look at pictures of girls, how will he find us a mommy?”
“He’s trying to find someone to take care of us instead of a mommy. He said.”
“I know. But no one answered that ad. I heard Moss and Curly talking,” Justin explained. Moss, their father’s foreman, was a great favorite with the twins. “They said Daddy didn’t get no answer to his ad. But when Mrs. Meggy’s husband changed the ad to one for a wife, then ‘every bloomin’ female in the country wrote a letter,’” Justin finished triumphantly, having produced a semblance of Moss’s drawl as he quoted him.
“But if Daddy doesn’t like ’em, it doesn’t matter,” Gareth reasoned.
“Yeah.” Justin slumped against the back of the sofa. “But I want a mommy. Don’t you?”
“Yeah. One who makes cookies…and tucks us in at night.”
The two boys sat in silence, contemplating the idea of having a mother. They were a little fuzzy on the details, but they knew they wanted one.
“But if Daddy won’t pick one, how will we find a mommy?” Justin finally asked.
“We could send a letter to the paper, like Mrs. Meggy’s husband did.”
“We don’t know how to write.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“We need someone to help us,” Justin said, frowning again. “Someone who will give us what we ask for.”
“That sounds like Santa Claus,” Gareth said before he straightened, excitement filling his voice. “Hey! We can ask Santa for a mommy for Christmas. She can be our present this year!”
THE INCESSANT RINGING of the phone had Doug muttering a few more of those forbidden words beneath his breath. He trudged down the hall and into the kitchen to grab the receiver.
“Yeah?”
“Doug Graybow? Ooh! You sound hot! Wait till you see just how hot I can be, too. We’ll be perfect for each other.”
“Look, if this is about the ad, it was a mistake.”
“But, Dougie, I’m sure you’ll be interested in what I have to offer. I’m 38-22-34, have long blond hair and—”
Doug interrupted the sultry voice. “Sorry, not interested.” He slammed down the phone and started back to his office. That was the fifth call this evening, interrupting his paperwork. Fed up, he paused by the living room door. Sticking his head in, he said to his sons, “If the phone rings anymore, just tell them I’m busy and hang up. Okay?”
“You mean we get to answer the phone?” Gareth demanded, excited about the new responsibility.
“That’s right. But do exactly like I tell you. If they ask to speak to me, tell them I’m busy and hang up.”
“Okay,” the twins chorused.
He turned away from his grinning sons, a little uneasy about what he’d done, but he couldn’t take care of everything and continue to answer those ridiculous calls.
Life was screwy. Four weeks advertising for a housekeeper and not a single call or letter. One week of that stupid ad for a wife, and he was being driven crazy by the calls and, even worse, the letters. The picture Gareth had found was mild in comparison to some he’d received. He blushed just thinking about them.
When he’d come in this evening, his answering machine had been full of suggestive messages, asking him to call. Most left their home numbers. One particularly sexy voice had suggested he call her at a motel in Dodge City, Kansas, so they could discuss fulfilling their mutual needs. Maybe she expected him to drive to meet her so they could “try out” married life.
He settled back in at his desk and, in disgust, swept the letters into the trash. He’d wasted enough time on such foolishness!
LESLIE HIBBETS SWITCHED the TV channel again. The tired, out-of-date motel room in Dodge City, Kansas, didn’t offer much in the way of entertainment. But she couldn’t leave unless she wanted to risk missing her return call.
Last night, she’d gone to the diner next door for a late meal, discouraged and unsure of her next move. She’d spent the past four years nursing her mother after an accident had killed her father and left her mother crippled. Six months ago her mother had died.
Feeling her life had been put on hold, albeit for a good reason, Leslie wanted to experience life, to find excitement. Instead, all she’d found was loneliness.
Eventually, she wanted to have a family, much like the life she’d experienced as a child. Her parents had provided a loving home for her, a home where she knew her parents loved each other as well as her. In the meantime, she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for.
While waiting for her food, she’d glanced at the weekly newspaper someone had left on the counter. Out of boredom, she’d turned to the want ads. The only one that caught her eye was for that of a housekeeper for a rancher with five-year-old twins.
If there was one thing she could do, it was keep house. She didn’t know much about children, but she could cook. Of course, she had no intention of being tied down, she reminded herself. She was free now to discover the world.
A rueful laugh had escaped at such grandiose thoughts. All she’d discovered had been highways with traffic whizzing by and lonely motel rooms. She looked at the ad again. If she took something like this job, on a temporary basis, just until the children started school, it would give her time to figure out what she wanted to do. And she wouldn’t feel so…so unconnected.
Money wasn’t a problem, but she couldn’t go forever without a job. Why not earn her keep while she was determining her future?
She’d decided to sleep on her decision. When she awoke this morning, she’d made the phone call to Mr. D. Graybow in Wyoming and gotten the answering machine. His gruff, sexy growl had startled her and she’d hung up. Before she lost her courage, she redialed the number and this time, she left a message, suggesting he call her to discuss fulfilling their mutual needs.
“There!” she’d exclaimed as she’d hung up. She’d sounded cool and professional—she hoped. Now all she had to do was wait for him to call.
By nine o’clock that evening, her patience was wearing thin. The least the man could do was return her call. Impatiently, she picked up the phone and dialed the number in the ad.
“Hello?”
She realized a child had answered the phone, probably one of the twins. “May I speak to Mr. Graybow, please?”
“He’s busy.”
Before she could respond, the line went dead. She held the receiver from her ear and stared at it as if it had insulted her.
Irritated, she dialed the number again. The same little voice answered and she hurriedly asked, “Mr. Graybow, please.”
“He’s busy.” Again the line went dead.
With steely determination, she dialed again. “Don’t hang up!” she immediately said when the child answered again. “I’m calling about the ad. Has Mr. Graybow hired