Archer's Angels (6 page)

“Mason can I talk to you?” Archer asked, three hours after he’d left Clove to her baking. He’d figured it was best to give her some time to chew on what he’d had to say.

“Sure.” Mason glanced up from the paperwork he was writing on. “What’s up?”

“I’d like to talk to everybody, if you can round up just the boys for dinner tonight. I need some advice, and I’d like to do it privately.”

Mason rose. “Tell Helga we’re going to have a sit-down, then.” Their housekeeper would need to prepare enough food. “Leave a note on the kitchen board for the boys that you’d like everybody present.”

Archer nodded. “Thanks.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I just need to air some things out. Need some guidance.” He smiled, but it was tense. “Had a bit of a surprise today, and a family consult’s the way I’d like to bring it up.”

One thing was for certain, he was going about this differently than Last had. He felt Last had waited too
long to talk to Mason about his baby. He’d avoided the problem. A man, in Archer’s opinion, faced everything with his eyes on the horns. Last was the youngest, of course, and he had a lot of baggage being the Family Philosophe. They’d relied on him over the years, when they’d had their wild stages, to be the family compass. No one had wanted to let the baby of the family, with his incisive opinions of what a family should be, down. Consequently, Archer felt Last was so burdened by their need for him to be the strong one that when he faltered, it was tough for him to face it. Last had changed a lot lately, though, and Archer was proud of the strides he was making. Last sure liked baby Annette, and he and Valentine had turned out to be pretty good at routing visitation hours.

But my goal is to do things my way.

Either way, it wasn’t going to be easy.

M
ASON
, B
ANDERA
, L
AST
, Crockett and Archer gathered at the family table, their plates piled high with barbecued chicken, red beans and rice, rolls and steamed broccoli. Though Calhoun lived nearby, oftentimes he and Olivia ate with Minnie and Kenny and Barley as a family. Two or three times a week, they joined the brothers at the main ranch house, particularly on the weekends, when Helga wasn’t as overburdened by their presence, Olivia said. Helga loved Kenny and Minnie, though, and always claimed meals were better when as much family was around as possible.

With time, the brothers had begun to appreciate their
housekeeper’s genuine love for their family. Besides, they couldn’t not love Helga after her daughter Kelly had married Fannin.

“Group’s getting smaller,” Mason observed.

“Yes, it was even smaller when you were gone so long,” Last said.

Mason put down his roll. “Well, you didn’t have any trouble enlarging the family tree in my absence.”

The rest of the brothers groaned at the continuing warfare and focused on their food. It was, Archer decided, not one reason but many that the moodiness around the ranch was so pervasive.

“Not tonight,” he said on a sigh. “We’re going to have to leave our war drums silent and cogitate on the newest issue at hand. I need your advice and not to be given several refrains of grief.”

“What’s up?” Bandera asked.

“Well,” Archer said slowly, “I, too, will be enlarging the family tree.”

Every brother stopped what he was doing, whether in midbite or mid-dig to stare at him.

“Go on,” Last said with obvious interest. “Don’t leave us in suspense.”

“I’m going to be a father,” Archer said.

“You don’t even have a girlfriend,” Crockett said, dumbstruck. “Don’t you have to have a female for that?”

“Apparently not,” Bandera said. “Let him finish.”

At the head of the table, Mason had turned into a concrete gargoyle, his mouth open, his roll dripping butter onto his plate and the tablecloth.

“I’m going to be a father,” Archer repeated. “To triplets.”

So loud a gasp went up from the brothers that it was amazing the plates didn’t jump an inch from the
whoosh.
Mason leaped to his feet, tossing his roll to the table. It bounced on the floor, to the delight of the dog.

“That is the last straw! What is the matter with you dunderheads! I taught you the condom song. I put condoms in the stockings at Christmas! And all you do is fornicate and populate! Every last one of you is irresponsible, immature and careless about the ranch’s future!”

The dog, fearing she was being yelled at, grabbed her treasure and exited the dining room in a blur.

“Hello,” Mimi Cannady said, sticking her head around the corner. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Yes!” Mason roared at their next-door neighbor, and the only woman he’d ever cared about, though he was Johnny-come-lately to figure it out.

If he’d
ever
figured it out, Archer thought. “Mason,” Archer said sharply.

“Sorry.” Mason sighed. “Mimi, please. Would you care to have a seat and join us?”

“I think not. I just stopped by to let you know that I am putting the ranch on the market next week.”

Mason sank into his chair, staring at her.

“Hate to eat without you, Mimi,” Bandera said. “Grab a plate. Join the Addams Family as we dine. Lurch is speechless, as you can see, so it might be a pleasant meal for a change.”

“No, thanks. I’ve upset Mason’s digestion, so I think I’ll head on off. Bye, guys.” She went around the corner, then poked her head around the door frame. “You know, it doesn’t look the same with just you five sitting there.” Her blue eyes were wide with sentimental tears. “We really had some good times,” she said softly. “I wish my baby was going to get to grow up on the ranch the way I did. But I guess that was a unique childhood.”

Mason stared at the doorway Mimi had left empty. He glanced around at his brothers, his throat working, his face distressed and somehow older. “Dammit to hell and back,” he said, throwing his napkin onto the table. “This place is a freaking zoo. I’m going out.”

He left the room in the opposite direction Mimi had gone.

“Excellent,” Archer said. “So far everything is normal.”

“Oh, yeah,” Crockett said sarcastically. “I think that went very well. Every night should be so warm and cozy. Next thing you know, we’ll have our own reality show, just like the Brady Bunch.”

“That wasn’t a reality show,” Bandera pointed out. “And Helga really isn’t like Alice, do you think?”

The brothers glared at him. Bandera looked at each of them, then picked up his fork and began to chew forlornly.

“So…back to your announcement,” Last said with a grin. “Triplets, eh? I cede the trophy for family error to you, bro.”

“Who is she?” Crockett asked. “Anyone we know?”

“Even I don’t really know her,” Archer said. “She’s an Australian stuntwoman.”

“Dang,” Bandera said, his tone admiring. “Hang ten, brother!”

“We need a woman who can put a little juice back into this family,” Crockett said. “She sounds fun! An Aussie stuntwoman bearing triplets! Does she have an accent? Does she say, ‘G’day, mate’?”

“Jeez.” Archer ran a hand through his hair. “She’s not what I would classify as fun. She has a slight accent. She’s never called me mate, and we don’t even come close to being friends. As far as the stuntwoman thing goes, as exciting as it might be, I’m making her quit her job. Too dangerous.”

“You’re making her quit her job.” Bandera chewed and thought about that. “How did she take that?”

“Very well for a first mention, I thought.”

“Which means he talked, she ignored him or possibly laughed in his face, and he plans to revisit the subject. So, are you moving Down Under?” Last asked. He looked thoughtful. “And…when’s the wedding date?”

His brothers stared at him. Uncomfortable tickling began along his neck and continued up over his skull. Archer cleared his throat nervously. “Too many questions to be answered tonight. Let’s eat this grub.”

Crockett’s eyes were round. “You
are
marrying the mother of your triplets, aren’t you? We Jeffersons are going to start getting a bad reputation if the seed doesn’t stop getting scattered with such enthusiasm.”

Last glared at Crockett. “I know you’re referencing me, and, in case it’s any of your business, which it isn’t, Valentine isn’t interested in marrying me. Nor am I in
terested in marrying her. What happened, happened. We’re happy with our baby, and we’ve worked it out just fine.”

“I guess I have to know, Archer, in the spirit of family history and precedent,” Crockett said, “did the Curse of the Broken Body Parts factor in? Did she hurt you?”

“Yes and no,” Archer said crossly. “She kicked me.”

“Kicked you?” Last asked.

“In the family jewels,” Archer elaborated.

They stared at him.

“And you
still
eked out triplets,” Last said, his tone admiring. “Had she not disturbed the House of Archer, you could be expecting quads or quints!”

“I don’t know if that qualifies for The Curse,” Archer said. “I saw stars and maybe a galaxy far, far away. But nothing broke, although it certainly felt crippled at the time.”

“I think that means you’re safe,” Last opined. “The Curse is a precursor to courtship the hard way, but clearly she didn’t kick you as hard as you thought she did. Although there is probably a story,” he added thoughtfully, “that we need to hear about how a lucky brother goes from receiving a kick in the zipper to unzipping
her
zipper. Even a stallion usually treads carefully around a filly with aim.”

“Did you ask this woman to marry you?” Bandera wanted to know. “Did you give her an option?”

“He doesn’t have to answer that,” Crockett interrupted. “I agree with Archer—let’s just eat.”

“You don’t want to hear about marrying mothers,
Crockett,” Bandera said, “because you’ve got the hots for Valentine.”

Everyone gawked at Crockett now that the secret was out. The silence was stiff and somehow heavy. Uncomfortable. Embarrassed. He pushed back his chair, tipping it over, and left the dining room.

Last vacated as well, throwing his napkin onto his plate with fervor.

Bandera shrugged, got up and left.

Archer blinked as he sat alone. “Congratulations, Archer,” he said to himself. “So happy for you, Archer. Fatherhood will suit you, Archer. Aren’t you the lucky dog, Archer?”

Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” He had his own ideas about family and responsibility, and now that tricky Miss Clove had shanghaied him into being a father, everything—most importantly, her—would go by his set of standards.

Three little boys. They would grow up to be just like his brothers and him. Jefferson males. Hardworking, hard-loving. Hardheaded.

Just like Clove.

One of them was going to have to bend, because he had no intention of ending up without his woman, like Mason, or having custodial arrangements, like Last.

Clove was due a compromise, and he was excellent at the skill of convincing.

“A
RCHER
,” C
LOVE SAID
when he returned late that evening with flowers, “you do not need to romance me. I under
stand you have an ornery need to try to change my mind, but that just shows me you don’t understand how important this is to me. There is not going to be a compromise.”

He grinned at her, slow and sexy. “Yes, ma’am.” Handing her the flowers, he sat at the kitchen table. “I looked forward to your cookies all day long.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“Did I mention I like the new curves on your figure?”

“Flattery isn’t going to work.” She put her glasses on and gave him a look of disdain. “You passed me up when I was wearing these.”

“And any man would,” he said reasonably. “I can’t even see your pretty eyes. Why do you wear those things?”

“Because I can’t see.”

“Obviously, or the salesperson would never have sold them to you. Here, let me help you.” He slid them from her face. “Now, the real you. You shouldn’t hide behind those things.”

Clove blinked. “Hide?
Hide?
I never hide. I’m a stuntwoman. I’m brave, no different than you when you’re on a bull or a bronc or your Appaloosa.”

“I knew we had something in common. Bravery,” Archer said with satisfaction. “This isn’t going to hurt as much as we think it will.”

“What won’t hurt?” Clove gave him another suspicious look as she placed a glass of milk in front of him. “I can’t bear to see you eat cookies without milk, but I am not serving you, for the record. I’m only complementing my baking.”

He grinned, making her heart flutter. “Thank you,” he said. “Even if you’re not serving me. The cookies are delicious, and it won’t hurt much to fall in love with you.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “We’re going to have to, you know. For the sake of the children.”

“We’re going to have to fall in love?”

“Yes. These are the best chocolate-chip cookies I’ve ever eaten. Do you stand in this kitchen all day and bake these wonderful morsels?”

“Yes. It’s the trade-off Delilah and I made. She wouldn’t charge me, though I said I wanted to pay her. But she said no woman related to the Jeffersons ever owed her a dime. No matter how many times I try to explain that I’m not related to the Jeffersons, she seems to think I am.”

“Delilah doesn’t know I’m the father?”

“No. I haven’t told anyone. Remember, I didn’t want you to know.”

“And that makes me quite wary of you, AussieClove. Secretive wasn’t something I saw in your e-mail persona.”

“Guess we were both in for some surprises.”

“Yes.” He sniffed a snickerdoodle, his face wreathed with pleasure. “Definitely worth the wait. So how did Delilah know you were related to me?”

“I told her that you recommended I stay here—and I am
not
related to you.”

“We are related by baby, and I’ll pay your bill while you’re here, at least until I move you to the ranch. You don’t have to stay on your feet all day.”

She ground her teeth. “Back to the have-to-fall-in-love part, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“I’ve done a survey of my family, and between those who have a working relationship with the mother of their child, and those who have fallen in love, Cupid is definitely preferable.” He looked at her. “You have your reasons for doing things, and I have mine. We should work together on this—for the sake of our children.”