The Texan's Twin Blessings. Rhonda Gibson

William looked about for a place to set the squirming twins, who wanted to get down and explore this new place. William realized he didn’t dare put them in the layer of dust that covered the floor. He shifted their weight and held them close to his aching chest.

      He’d lost his sister and now his grandmother. Who was next? One of the twins? His brother-in-law? He’d also lost his fiancée, Charlotte, thankfully not by death, but she’d been clear that having children or taking care of someone else’s was not a part of her future with him. They’d parted ways since he wanted children and intended to protect and keep his nieces until their father’s return.

      The questions returned once more. How much more could he take? And how was he going to care for the girls by himself until his brother-in-law returned? This was not how he had pictured his life. Doubt rose in multiples. Why was the Lord testing him? Had he offended Him in some way? He loved the fellowship with his Lord and tried to honor and please Him above all others. But his load seemed to get heavier every day. As if the Lord had heard his thoughts, William’s troubled spirit quieted, and he forced his lips to part in a curved, stiff smile at the woman staring solemnly back at him.

      * * *

      Emily Jane watched the emotions cross the handsome face of the man in front of her. William Barns wore a dark brown cowboy hat. Wavy black hair peeked out from under the brim and curled about his collar. It was his sapphire-blue eyes that held her attention; they told a story of their own. From the depth of sorrow staring back at her, Emily Jane read that this wasn’t the first time death had recently broken his heart.

      Without giving her actions much thought, she reached for one of the babies, who had resumed kicking and crying. “Here, let me take one of them.” Poor little mites needed their mother. Emily Jane felt sure that Mr. Barns mourned her death as well as his grandmother’s; why else would he show up alone with the two little girls?

      He placed the little child into her outstretched arms. “Shhhh, it will be all right.” Emily Jane rocked from side to side as she held the small one against her shoulder.

      The child settled down and sniffled but no longer cried as if she were being tortured. Emily Jane looked to Mr. Barns and saw that he copied her actions. She offered him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “Do you have fresh diapers for these sweet girls?” Emily Jane asked, as she continued to rock and pat the small back in her arms.

      “Out in the wagon.” He spun on his booted heels and limped away. “I’ll be right back,” Mr. Barns called over his shoulder.

      “Go!” The little girl in her arms tugged in the direction that Mr. Barns had left. She cried in earnest when he and her sister continued out the door.

      Emily Jane pulled the darling close and patted her back some more. “He’ll be right back.” Emily Jane looked about the room during his absence. In the short time Mabel Barns had been gone, the house had become quite dirty.

      Would William Barns stay here now that he knew his grandmother had died? Or would he take his daughters and go to other family members for help with the children? She assumed the need for help with the girls had been what prompted him to visit his grandmother.

      She refocused on the room as she jiggled the sobbing little girl in her arms. Dust covered every inch of the furniture, fireplace mantel and floors. If he stayed, it would take him a few hours to clean up the mess. Mabel had died a little over a month ago. Dusting was a daily job if you lived in Texas, especially Granite, a task Mabel had seemed to enjoy.

      Emily Jane’s throat closed. Fresh waves of sadness rolled over her as she mourned the loss of her friend. The child in her arms began to twitch and quiet down as if she sensed Emily Jane’s sorrow.

      “Let’s get this wet diaper off of you, little one.” Emily Jane walked to the sofa and pulled the dust-covered protective sheet off of it. To keep the sofa from getting wet, she took off her apron and laid it on the cushion. Then Emily Jane sat down and began to unpin the soiled cloth diaper.

      She guessed that the child was about a year old, maybe a little older. Twins were often smaller than other children. Her black wavy hair matched the color of her father’s, and brilliant blue eyes shone from her face. A frayed yellow ribbon had been tied in her hair. “You sure are a pretty little girl,” Emily Jane said in a soft voice, happy the child was no longer screaming and crying. The tot looked like her handsome father.

      Emily Jane shook her head to erase the memory of melancholy within his eyes. She didn’t want to focus on William Barns’s good looks, either. No, she wasn’t interested in handsome men. She had a new life ahead of her. One of independence with no controlling husband or demanding children to steal her joy of baking.

      The little girl looked up at Emily Jane and sucked her thumb while Emily Jane pulled the wet cloth from under her. As soon as she was free of the sodden diaper, she pulled her thumb from between her lips and said, “Shew wee.”

      Boot steps clacked against the wood floor. Then Mr. Barns handed her a leather pouch that resembled a saddlebag. “Shew wee is right.” His warm voice brought a grin to the child’s face. Emily experienced an unusual feeling in the pit of her stomach. What would it feel like to have someone’s happiness within your power? She’d probably never know since she had chosen another direction for her life. One where she decided which path to take instead of a man doing it for her.

      Emily Jane took the bag and found the clean diapers. As soon as she got the cloth pinned into place, she handed the first little girl over to Mr. Barns and took the second child.

      “Thank you, miss, but you really don’t have to do that.” He moved as if to change places with her.

      “I don’t mind,” Emily Jane answered as she proceeded to change the second child. The big man hobbled about the room. He touched the fireplace mantel and sighed. She wondered what had happened to his ankle but didn’t think it was her place to ask. As soon as the second child was diapered, Emily Jane stood.

      “Did Grandmother sell this house to you?” he asked. His voice broke, and he turned his face away.

      Emily Jane shook her head. “No, a few days before her passing, she gave me a key and told me that if any of her kin should show up to let them in. I suppose she was worried you’d arrive after bank hours and wouldn’t be able to get the extra key from the bank and so therefore wouldn’t be able to get into the house.”

      Confusion furrowed the skin of his brow. “Does the bank own the house?”

      “I’m not sure. All I know is what she told me. That Doc had done all he could for her and to give you the house key. Oh, and she also instructed me to tell you that you need to go to Mr. Fergus at the bank and tell him you are her kin. He has further information as to what is to become of this place.” Emily Jane knew her words were rushed, but she hadn’t expected a handsome man with two small children to be the “kin” that Mrs. Barns had predicted would come.

      Mr. Barns frowned and voiced his thoughts. “How did Grandmother figure I was coming? There was no way she could have known. I didn’t even know myself until a short time ago.”

      Emily Jane shrugged. “I’m not sure if she knew which of her grandchildren would arrive. She sent a letter off, but I don’t know to whom. I assumed, since you are here, it was you.”

      He shook his head. “Maybe her letter was one of the letters that Mary dropped on the day she died. The wind blew several letters away, but in all the ruckus no one heeded them.”

      The soft words were spoken as if he were talking to himself. Emily Jane was pretty sure he wasn’t speaking to her. His blue eyes were focused in the past as if he’d forgotten she and the little girls were in the room. But now she knew the little girls’ mother’s name and that she’d recently died.

      Not willing to be ignored, both of the children began to whine and fret once more.

      He seemed to snap out of the memories and return to them. His voice sounded tired and hopeless as he said, “They are hungry. I was hoping Grandmother would be able to feed them and help me get them ready