Rescuing the Cowboy

by Cathy McDavid

  He exhaled long and slow. “If things were different...”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “There’s my daughter. And I have a record I’m trying to clear.”

  She nodded.

  “There’s also your ex-husband.”

  He’d listed three of the dozen reasons she had for not kissing him. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Stop right there. This has been the best three minutes of my life since my release. We don’t need to ruin it with a list of our mistakes.”

  He backed away from her car, but not before cupping her cheek and caressing her lips with the pad of his thumb. It was lovely, and she nearly pulled his head down for another scorching kiss.

  Getting into the car, she told herself not to cry. What good would it do?

  With a last wave, she shut the door and checked on Teddy—he was sound asleep—then pulled forward. At the end of the long driveway leading to the main road, she came upon a minivan just sitting there, red brake lights glowing in the dark. She recognized the vehicle—it belonged to a family whose son was a classmate of Teddy’s. When had they left?

  Summer suddenly panicked. Had the mother and her son finished early and spotted Summer and Quinn kissing? Was she waiting to confront Summer for acting inappropriately with an employee?

  The driver’s side door of the minivan opened and the mother emerged, her face illuminated by Summer’s headlights. She motioned for Summer to roll down her window.

  “There you are. I was just about to phone you.”

  Summer’s anxiety escalated, though she acted nonchalant. “Hi, Mindy.”

  “Sorry about parking here.” She motioned to her minivan. “I try not to call or text while I’m driving.”

  “It’s a good habit to have.” Summer’s palms grew clammy. She glanced again at Teddy, who continued sleeping. At least she didn’t have to worry about him hearing the conversation. “What’s going on?”

  “Have you met that new guy Cara hired for the therapy program?”

  She must be referring to Quinn. “Yes.”

  “Then you’ve heard he’s a convict.”

  “What I heard is that he was exonerated.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s innocent.”

  “Actually, it does.” Summer’s relief was extremely short-lived. Mindy obviously hadn’t seen the kiss. However, Summer didn’t like the accusing tone in her voice.

  “He worked the system,” Mindy said. “Probably got a good attorney.”

  “It’s my understanding new evidence was uncovered that cleared him. Another man was arrested. He took a plea agreement and is serving time. That amounts to admitting guilt.”

  Mindy braced her hands on Summer’s open window. “This Crenshaw guy spent years in prison.” She said years as if it was twenty and not two. “You can’t possibly want that kind of person around our children.”

  Summer didn’t want to give her and Quinn away. On the other hand, she felt an overwhelming need to defend him and not just because they’d kissed moments ago. In her opinion, right was right and wrong was wrong.

  “I admit, I’m human and a parent. I would be cautious about a hardened, violent former convict working in close proximity to our children. But I also believe people can change and everyone deserves a fair chance. In Qu—” She caught herself before blurting his name. “In Mr. Crenshaw’s case, he’s innocent.”

  “And hardened. We’ve all heard about the terrible things that happen in prison.”

  “Have you met him?”

  “Yes.” Mindy lifted her chin.

  “He’s very nice.”

  “That could be an act. Jeffrey Dahmer’s neighbors claimed he was a nice guy.”

  “Oh, Mindy.” Summer couldn’t hide her shock and horror. “Quinn Crenshaw is nothing like Jeffrey Dahmer. Please don’t compare them.”

  Mindy backed away from Summer’s car, her expression sour. “I’ve been talking to the other parents. They feel the same way I do.”

  “Really? All of them?” There were over thirty students in the therapy program.

  “I’m still making calls,” she said. “But the Gonzaleses agree with me. Also, Felicity Curtis.”

  Summer frowned. “Where’s all this heading?”

  “We’re putting together a petition demanding Cara fire him.”

  “No.” Summer gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “Why?”

  Mindy made a sound of disgust. “Honestly, I can’t believe your attitude.”

  Summer could easily say the same thing about her. “Tell me you’ll think this through before you contact any more parents.”

  “I’ve thought plenty about it already.” Mindy pushed at her hair as if the strands were the source of her irritation. “My mind’s made up. This guy is bad news, and I refuse to allow him near our children.”

  She wouldn’t allow it? Really? Well, Summer wouldn’t allow this farce to continue a moment longer.

  Opening the car door, she stepped out.

  “Mindy.” She waited until the other woman looked at her. “Your son has Tourette’s syndrome.”

  “Yes.” Mindy huffed, then demanded, “And?”

  “Hasn’t he been the object of teasing and pranks and tormenting from his schoolmates? Haven’t you and your family suffered misunderstanding and—I hate to say it—prejudice from people who are ill-informed and ignorant about your son’s condition?”

  “Your point?” Her voice cracked when she spoke.

  “Quinn Crenshaw deserves the same kind of treatment and tolerance from others as our sons do. As all people do.”

  “Our children aren’t criminals.”

  “And neither is Quinn.” Summer took a leap off the deep end. “You’re a better person than this, Mindy. I’ve seen you fight for your son. Go toe-to-toe with the school administration and win them over with the sheer force of your convictions.”

  Mindy averted her gaze. Summer thought some of the fight might have gone out of her.

  “Go home tonight, hug your child,” she said, “and consider what I’ve said, okay?”

  “I’m not making any promises.”

  “All right.” She couldn’t drag one out of Mindy if the woman wasn’t ready. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Even though she lived ten miles away, Mindy attended the same support group as Summer. “Fine.”

  On impulse, she pulled Mindy close. “We wouldn’t be good parents and love our children if we didn’t worry about them.”

  “I guess I am used to battling.”

  “Your family’s lucky to have you.”

  Summer wanted to feel better after leaving the ranch, but she couldn’t shake the concerns building inside her. Would Cara seriously consider a petition if things went that far? Should Summer mention the petition to Quinn and give him a heads-up or wait in the hopes Mindy reconsidered?

  Mulling over the questions during the drive home and as she was putting Teddy to bed didn’t provide any answers, other than affirming that she would do whatever was in her power to help Quinn and discourage Mindy from continuing with her petition.

  * * *

  QUINN SAT IN Marty’s office, his hands gripping the visitor chair armrests and his right foot tapping nervously. It had been hard enough waiting a full twenty-four hours from Marty’s initial phone call yesterday to this appointment. The last ten minutes had been grueling.

  Summer had led him into the office, told him to sit and that Marty would join him shortly. That was—

  He started at the sound of Marty coming in and shutting the door behind him. Thank God. He’d been ready to come unglued.

  “How you doing, Quinn?” Marty sat behind his desk, the leather chair cr
eaking as he settled himself.

  “Okay.”

  Truthfully, he’d been a wreck. Unable to eat, unable to sleep and unable to concentrate. Growing increasingly irritated with him, his cousins had insisted he take the morning off work. Rather than ease his anxiety, Quinn had spent the hours until the appointment alternately pacing and searching the internet on his phone for articles about ex-convicts getting shared custody of their children.

  Marty cut to the chase. “I heard from the attorney we hired in Seaside earlier.”

  Earlier! And he hadn’t bothered to call Quinn? “What did he say?”

  “First off, he’s not representing Jenny. He’s simply acting as her messenger at our request. But be advised, she will be retaining an attorney. Possibly one here in Arizona to ease the process.”

  “Is that what she said?”

  “Yes.”

  Quinn had expected as much. He’d sought legal counsel—Jenny would, too. Nonetheless, it bothered him. Did she not trust him to do right by Corrine?

  “The good news is,” Marty continued, “she’s agreed to bring your daughter here for a supervised visit.”

  Quinn’s pulse jumped. “When?”

  “The weekend of the sixteenth.”

  “Wait. No.” He drew in a breath. “That’s the same weekend as my cousin’s wedding.”

  “Is it local?”

  “Yeah. Mustang Valley.”

  “Good. You’ll be available.”

  “I’ll also be busy. I’m one of the groomsmen.”

  Marty tapped the screen on his electronic tablet, apparently reading his notes. “She wants to come on the sixteenth because it’s her mother’s birthday, and they’re having a family party.”

  Anger surged inside Quinn. “My family’s having a wedding. I think that trumps a birthday.”

  At Marty’s frown, Quinn clamped his mouth shut and mentally counted to ten, then twenty. Losing his temper wouldn’t advance his cause.

  “I suggest you not start out making demands. Jenny’s being reasonable, bringing your daughter here. Insisting she alter her plans might cause her to reconsider and dig in her heels.”

  “Alter her plans? She was already bringing Corrine here and not telling me.”

  “Remember, Quinn, she didn’t know you were released.”

  She might have known if she hadn’t run off and gone into hiding.

  Rather than voice his feelings, he asked, “How am I supposed to spend time with Corrine when I have to go to a rehearsal dinner on Friday, the wedding and reception on Saturday and help clean up after the reception on Sunday?”

  Marty’s jaw visibly clenched but he remained calm. “Can’t you find two hours each day? That’s how long the visits will be. Friday afternoon, Saturday morning and Sunday morning. You might be able to pick up Jenny and Corrine at the airport, if that helps.”

  “Two hours? I thought I’d get to spend the whole day with Corrine.”

  “Frankly, you’re lucky Jenny was already planning a trip to Arizona. Otherwise, you might not be seeing Corrine for weeks or even months.”

  “She kept my daughter from me all that time, and she can’t give me one stinking day?” The hell with counting to twenty. Quinn was officially mad.

  “Take it easy,” Marty cautioned. “This isn’t a battle you need to be fighting.”

  Little by little Quinn reined in his temper. It wasn’t easy. Yes, Marty was right. That didn’t make what he said easier to swallow.

  Quinn tried to remember some of the things he’d read in the articles he’d researched. “Can she demand back child support?”

  “Doubtful, since she didn’t tell you about Corrine. Of course, she can ask for it now and likely will.”

  “I don’t earn much.”

  “It might not hurt if you offered Jenny a share of your settlement from the state.”

  Quinn did take heart that Marty spoke with confidence, as if winning their suit against the state for wrongful conviction was a done deal.

  “I’d be agreeable to that.” Quinn didn’t ask how much, assuming that would depend on the amount of the settlement. “Can I request that she and Corrine move back to Arizona?”

  “You can’t stipulate it.” Marty shook his head. “But maybe she’ll consider moving if you reach an amicable agreement. Her family does live in the Phoenix area.”

  “And if she doesn’t move? How am I supposed to see Corrine? I can’t afford to fly to Oregon more than once a year, if that.”

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? We start by asking for three-hour-a-day supervised visits rather than two, at a place of Jenny’s choosing.” Marty made entries on his tablet, seeming to be talking more to himself than Quinn. “One reasonable request sets the tone.”

  “Why does the visit have to be supervised? I’m not going to try to kidnap Corrine.”

  “That’s not the only reason.”

  “She’s my daughter. I would never hurt her.”

  “Supervised visits in the beginning are standard. Don’t take it personally. In fact, don’t take any of this personally. It’ll only frustrate you.”

  “Is it because I was in prison?”

  Marty grew impatient. “I said supervised visits are standard in the beginning. She needs to see you with Corrine. Feel confident you’re good with her, and that she has nothing to worry about.”

  “She’s kept my daughter from me for almost three years. Longer if you start counting from the time she got pregnant. I’m the one who’s been wronged. Me and Corrine. Not Jenny.”

  “I understand your frustration. But there’s a legal system in place we need to follow. Fighting her will only damage your case.”

  Quinn didn’t think for one second that Marty understood his frustration.

  “It’s in your favor that you have a steady job and a stable home.”

  “I barely earn enough to put food on the table, and I live in an apartment over a horse barn.”

  Marty lowered his reading glasses in order to peer at Quinn. “Is it large enough for Corrine to stay with you?”

  “Yeah. I suppose.” He could always sleep on the sofa bed and give Corrine the bedroom.

  “Really, Quinn. We’re making progress. We located Jenny and Corrine quickly, and in a little over a week, you’ll be seeing your daughter. That’s what you need to focus on.”

  “Can Jenny refuse me shared custody?”

  “Don’t make trouble where there isn’t any. And keep that temper of yours in check. Jenny already has enough ammunition to use against you.”

  “Like my record?” Quinn rubbed his temple, willing the ache there to abate.

  “I’m just saying, don’t give her any ideas.”

  They continued their meeting for another twenty minutes, finishing up when Summer sent Marty a message on his computer alerting him of his next appointment.

  Marty stood and extended his hand to Quinn. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear back from Jenny or her attorney regarding our request.”

  He escorted Quinn to the front office where a young couple sat, eyes nervously darting about. They sprang from their chairs the instant they saw Marty. Was everyone a wreck who came into his office?

  Quinn noticed Summer wasn’t at her desk. Where had she gone? Hadn’t she just let Marty know of this couple’s arrival?

  He suppressed a stab of disappointment. Seeing her, if only briefly, would have given him a much needed lift, one he sorely needed after his meeting with Marty. Not that things had gone badly, he’d just hoped for more.

  Taking the elevator, he stepped forward the instant the door swooshed open on the first floor—and nearly collided with Summer.

  “Oops.” She came to an abrupt halt.

  Quinn took advantage of
her surprise. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he guided her away from the elevator and the other two exiting occupants. “I was looking for you.”

  “You were?” She smiled. “I was in the parking lot meeting with the process server.”

  Behind them, the elevator doors closed. His earlier disappointment vanished when she didn’t appear to regret missing her ride. Fortunately, the lobby was abandoned. Even so, Quinn pulled Summer along to a partially secluded nook behind a large planter.

  “How’d the meeting go?” she asked. “You look happy.”

  Did he? He thought it might have more to do with running into her.

  “Marty seems to think we’re making progress.” He shrugged.

  “And you don’t?”

  “Jenny’s bringing Corrine to Mustang Valley a week from Friday.”

  Summer’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful!”

  “It’s also the weekend of the wedding.”

  “Oh, you’re right.”

  “And she only agreed to supervised visits. Two hours each day.”

  “But that’s three visits over three days.” Summer’s smile returned. “You must be excited.”

  “I assumed I’d have Corrine all day.”

  “Marty’s right,” she assured him. “Things went well. Jenny could have said no. Run off again and gone into deeper hiding. Instead, she’s being very accommodating and, frankly, I’m impressed. I was worried she’d give you grief and refuse to cooperate.”

  Somehow, it sounded better coming from Summer than Marty.

  “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to...”

  “What, Quinn?”

  “Hang around with me during Corrine’s visit?”

  She gave him a look. “You don’t want me interfering.”

  “You wouldn’t be.” He exhaled. “I’m not sure how to behave with a little kid.”

  “You do pretty darn good with your niece and nephew.”

  “My future isn’t on the line with them.”

  Summer shook her head. “Jenny may not appreciate my being there.”

  “I could use the moral support.”

  “Mmm... I’ll think about it,” she relented. “Maybe Teddy and I can just happen to show up an hour or so into your visit. If you don’t need us, you can give me a sign.”