The Convenient Cowboy

by Heidi Hormel

  “Why don’t you like Limpy? You’re married and everything,” Calvin said. “Are you going to get divorced like you and Mommy?”

  Crap. “Grown-ups—”

  “I asked Limpy, and she said that every marriage is different, like there are all kinds of M&M’s. She said you guys are like candy-corn M&M’s because they aren’t for everyone and aren’t around all the time, but they’re still M&M’s.”

  Spence had no idea what M&M’s had to do with marriage, but obviously Olympia and his son had talked about it. What else had she said? This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. “You don’t need to worry. You know I love you and that I always do what’s best for you.”

  “I like it here. I like Pasquale.”

  “After the baby, you know that Olympia plans to go on the road with the rodeo. She won’t even be living here.”

  “She’d never sell the ranch,” Calvin said with a lot more vehemence than Spence expected. “She won’t be gone all the time, and Pasquale and Muffin will have to have a place to live.”

  Dear Lord, Spence had to break up his son and Olympia right now. He didn’t want Calvin hurt by another woman, like he’d been by Missy. “That’s months from now. A lot can change.”

  “Yeah, like there will be a baby around here.”

  “You’re right. Now show me what you’ve been up to.” Spence redirected his son because his big old lawyer’s brain hadn’t come up with a good way to explain the situation to Calvin.

  * * *

  “OLYMPIA, DINNER,” SPENCE SAID through her closed door. She didn’t answer, so he knocked and then opened the door. They would be sharing the master bedroom now. He was still wrapping his head and gonads around that one. She lay curled up tight on the bed, her face pale. He rushed to her. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

  “I think you were right. The double-chocolate ice cream... Oh, God, I think I’m going to be sick.” She clutched her middle.

  Spence hauled her out of the bed and to the bathroom. She lay on the floor and complained that she was hot, then cold, so he covered her with towels. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a wide-eyed Calvin. “She’s okay, buddy. Pregnant ladies have delicate stomachs.”

  “I didn’t want her to get sick.”

  “Is she okay?” Rickie popped up behind Calvin. “What happened?”

  “Don’t worry, Calvin. She said that she had too much Dairy Queen ice cream. Why don’t you two go check on dinner? Make sure we aren’t going to burn the place down.” Rickie turned slowly, leading a reluctant Calvin down the hall. Spence refocused on Olympia, who was biting her lip. “Are you okay?” Spence whispered, reaching out to brush the sweaty bangs from her forehead.

  She nodded. “I thought I was over the morning sickness. Guess I was wrong.”

  “How about I get you back to bed?”

  She didn’t answer him, except to squeeze her eyes tightly closed. “Spence, maybe something’s wrong. I haven’t been sick in a while.”

  “You’re fine. You’ve gone to the doctor, and she said everything was good.”

  “I just feel so bad, and—”

  “What?” he asked softly, his body tightening with fear.

  “I don’t know. It’s just different, and my—” Her words stopped, and she moaned in misery. “I’m such a baby.”

  Spence didn’t know what to do with this Olympia. This weak and unsure Olympia. He took her hands and squeezed. “You said it. Too much ice cream. What did you expect, eating like a six-year-old?”

  She shook her head slowly. “The baby doesn’t want me as her mother. I knew I’d be a bad mother.”

  “It’s just what happens to pregnant women. Getting sick—even the whole way through the pregnancy—has nothing to do with the baby thinking you’re not a good mother. What about your sisters? You’ve raised them just fine.”

  “Anyone would have been better than our mother.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you.” He smiled when her eyes popped open. “Don’t faint. I really won’t argue with you. I’ll help you to bed, then I’ll bring you a seltzer.” He put his hand under her elbow and made her sit up. Then he suggested she breathe in and out a few times before encouraging her to her feet and back to their room. He got her settled under the blankets, with the wastebasket, then felt her forehead to be sure she didn’t have a fever.

  She turned away and said, “It’s just the baby.”

  “Watch it or I’ll sausage you.”

  “What? I’m not up for any—”

  “Good Lord, no. I meant tuck the covers in really tight. I do that to Calvin all the time. When he was a baby, it sometimes was the only way to get him to stop crying. Don’t tell him I told you. It would embarrass him.”

  “I won’t tell him. I’ll just lie here until it’s better. Why did I get double fudge?”

  He waited until her eyes closed and paused a moment to gather himself and put on a happy face for Calvin and Rickie. Her paleness worried him. If she didn’t feel better in the morning, she was going to the doctor’s. No argument.

  * * *

  OLYMPIA CURLED INTO a ball of misery. The low, dull ache in her back had moved up to a sharp pain that had started to worry her somewhere deep down. She’d downloaded a couple of pregnancy ebooks, and her symptoms weren’t that unusual but... She wouldn’t think about that. Her doctor had told her that some women had morning sickness all day and throughout their pregnancy. The medicine had been working so well, she’d nearly forgotten how bad it could be. Maybe the chocolate ice cream, double hot fudge, brownie chunks and chocolate sprinkles hadn’t been the best choice. Could you get chocolate poisoning?

  Hours—minutes?—later, the nausea eased enough that Olympia could move her head and reposition herself. She hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary today. She and Cal had worked with Pasquale, to Cal’s delight. The kid just wanted to be normal, not some pasty-faced geek. She’d been careful—helmet, boots and long pants—and Pasquale had been a lamb. Maybe she should offer him to Jessie for her program. When Olympia was on the road with the rodeo, she wouldn’t be able to have stock that didn’t earn its keep.

  Oh, God, it was starting again. The wave of sickness roiled through her. She clamped her mouth closed on the queasiness and the increasing ache in her back. Then, suddenly and blessedly, the nausea got better.

  She curled back into her ball, protecting her belly and easing the ache in her back. Could she get Spence to give her a massage? No. That was playing with fire. Even as miserable as she was, the thought of his hands on her made her remember their nights in bed—not many, but enough to store up a list of amazing memories. Her mom had never been sick like this, which might explain why she’d done it four times. Olympia couldn’t imagine how she was going to get through this one.

  Her guts tightened in fear. Was she losing the baby? Was that why she was so sick? She’d kept saying she didn’t want Peanut, but... She’d been at the doctor’s just two weeks ago, and they’d both been pronounced healthy. She sucked in a deep breath. She’d seen a program on the morning news that deep breathing cured nearly everything from nausea to depression to cancer...or something. Breathe in, breathe out. She told herself to concentrate on that and not the heaving that had started in her stomach again. If she could just relax, the sharp pains radiating out from her back and down the front of her thighs would go away, too.

  “Olympia,” Spence said softly from the doorway. “I have the seltzer and a buttered tortilla.” He clinked the ice in the glass.

  “No,” she said, but it came out on a sharp cry as the pain shot through her.

  “Where does it hurt?” he asked, hurrying across the small room. “Is it the baby?”

  No. It had to be something else.

  “Talk to me,” he said, his face close to hers, his fingers interlaced wi
th hers over her belly. “If you can’t tell me what’s going on, I’m calling 911.”

  “No,” she protested. “I’m fine. Just all that chocolate.”

  He stood up and looked down at her, his face set in lines she couldn’t read. “Drink your seltzer.”

  “Not now.”

  He set the drink on the bedside table and left the room. She closed her eyes, telling herself that being alone was what she wanted. She needed to remember that this was all pretend and temporary. They were not a couple. Cal was not her little boy. She tried to laugh, and it ended on a gasp as another pain rolled through her. Could she make it to the kitchen where she kept her aspirin? What had the doctor told her she could take? Her brain was muzzy from the pain and the nausea, except that little part that insisted something was wrong. She told the scaredy-cat voice to shut up. But, oh, God, she hurt. A sharp pain tightened her stomach. She tried to sit up and another one hit her. She curled tighter. No. Not the baby. She didn’t want to lose the baby.

  * * *

  “SOMETHING’S WRONG, PAYSON,” Spence said frantically but quietly into his cell so Calvin and Rickie wouldn’t hear. The two of them were sprawled on the broken-down couch in the living room, watching a cartoon that was probably inappropriate. His blood pulsed hard in his ears, making it difficult to hear what his brother was saying.

  “Spence,” Payson’s voice came through, harsh and loud. “Call the ambulance. Don’t fool around with this. It sounds like something more than morning sickness. Get off the phone and call now. Once you do that—”

  Spence hung up and dialed 911. He didn’t care that his voice wavered as he described the situation and their address. The operator explained that it would take extra time for an ambulance because of a string of accidents on the 10 and a large fire in the historic Presidio district. She suggested calmly that he call the doctor, too.

  He hung up and called Olympia’s obstetrician, reaching the after-hours operator, barely able to write down the on-call service number. His hands were shaking badly. He tried the number, and the operator who answered said the doctor would get back to him as soon as possible. “How soon is that?” Spence snapped.

  “As soon as she can,” the operator said soothingly.

  He hung up on her, too.

  “An ambulance is on the way,” he said as he entered Olympia’s bedroom. Instead of lying in a fetal ball, she had gotten herself sitting, hunched over and holding her belly. Oh, God, it’s worse.

  “Spence,” she groaned, her voice little more than a whisper. “I think it’s the baby.”

  “I know.” He shot across the room and pulled her into his arms. “I know. The ambulance may take... I called Payson...your doctor...”

  Olympia sucked in a breath and hissed out a moan as every muscle in her body tightened.

  They couldn’t wait. She was losing the baby now. He had to get her to the hospital. He slid his hands under her knees to pick her up, and she struggled. “Shh. It’s all right. We’re going to take my truck. We’ll be there faster than any ambulance.”

  “I can walk.”

  “No. You can’t. You can’t even straighten up.”

  “Aah...” she moaned, a long, deep sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck lift. No more talking. He hurried to the truck and laid her in the king cab before going back for Calvin. The little boy for once didn’t say anything, but his eyes were round and frightened. Rickie kept quiet, too. He didn’t even suggest that she stay at the house.

  “She’ll be fine. It’s just that all the ambulances are tied up. They said to take her instead of waiting,” he lied. “I’m sure it’s something silly.”

  Calvin and Rickie both crawled into the back with Olympia. Spence couldn’t listen to the soothing comments his son made or he’d end up bawling like a lost calf.

  This baby may have started as a mistake, but that didn’t mean Spence didn’t want her...or him. His hands white-knuckled the steering wheel as he raced to the hospital. Why hadn’t the doctor called back? She should meet them at the hospital. Damn. He’d forgotten the phone. His fear moved close to panic.

  “Daddy,” Calvin said, his voice quavering. “Limpy’s crying.”

  “Hurry up. Can’t this stupid truck go faster?” Rickie said in a shaky voice.

  “It’s okay. She’ll be okay.” Now Spence could hear Olympia’s whimpers, and he pushed harder on the accelerator, cursing when they got stopped at another traffic signal.

  “Stop swearing,” Olympia croaked. “You’re freaking out Cal. Even Rickie doesn’t know some of those.”

  “Sorry, buddy,” he said, looking in the rearview mirror at the big eyes of his son. “It’ll be all right. Just a few more minutes, then the doctors will take care of everything.”

  “I don’t want the baby to die,” Calvin said.

  “That won’t happen. I won’t let it happen. That’s what daddies do. They make sure nothing bad happens, so you don’t need to worry.”

  “That’s not the way it works,” Rickie said quietly.

  Spence glanced one more time in the mirror, wanting to reassure Rickie. To reassure himself. He made a sharp right to get off the main drag, hoping that the backstreets and alleys would get him to the hospital faster. He couldn’t lose their baby. He couldn’t lose Olympia. Somewhere over the past two months, they’d gotten lodged in his heart as firmly as Calvin was. The thought of anything happening to them made adrenaline-laced fear fill every one of his cells. Get them to the hospital. Now.

  Chapter Ten

  The tight grip of Calvin’s hand on hers and the quiet but constant swearing from Spence took Olympia’s mind off her own pain and fear. She might not want to be a mom, but that didn’t mean she wanted anything to happen to little Peanut. She clutched at her middle, hoping to hold everything just where it was. She felt a ripple of muscle. Contractions? No. Not labor. She had months and months to go.

  “Ten minutes,” Spence said over his shoulder as he raced through residential neighborhoods, ignoring stop signs and one ways. God, she hoped they survived the trip.

  Cal squeezed her hand again as another wussy whimper escaped her. She smiled at him. “I’m okay. Just what happens when you have chocolate poisoning.”

  “Poison,” he gasped.

  “Shut up, Limpy,” her sister snapped, her eyes slits of fear and anger. “Don’t joke.”

  “Sorry,” Olympia said in a hoarse whisper. “But I bet if Cal did a search he could find out how much chocolate is deadly.” She turned her head so her sister and Cal wouldn’t see the tears that leaked out of her eyes.

  Rickie pounded on the back of Spence’s seat and yelled, “Hurry. She’s delirious.”

  Olympia closed her eyes as the pain no longer had a start or stop. Her back, her thighs, everything from her breastbone south hurt with a cramping ache ten times worse than a charley horse.

  * * *

  “MRS. MACCORMACK.” OLYMPIA cracked her eyes open as a woman shouted into her face.

  “Olympia,” she corrected.

  “Olympia. You’re at Tucson General. We just need to get you set up on an IV. But you need to keep your eyes open.”

  “Why?” Olympia asked, closing her eyes against the pain.

  “Olympia. Open up,” the woman insisted.

  Olympia forced her lids upward and the room swam. She swallowed. “The baby.”

  “You’re both okay. Once the doctor sees the scan, we’ll know more. Right now, we’re giving you something that should stop the contractions. You’re lucky you didn’t wait any longer to come in, or we might not have—”

  “I don’t care,” Spence’s voice rang out. “She’s my wife.” All-American, boy-next-door Spence looked like something between an avenging angel and a serial killer as he bulled his way into her room. She held her shaking hand
out to him and he grabbed hold, the warmth of his palm anchoring her.

  “Mr. MacCormack, I need to—”

  “You can do it while I’m here.” Spence’s gaze locked on hers, the dusty-blue desert eyes steady but dark with as much pain as her own heart felt.

  “The baby...”

  “The baby is fine.” His other hand snaked out and onto her abdomen. “The doctors said they can stop the labor.”

  “Labor?”

  “The backaches, the nausea...it was early labor.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking at the bag of liquid dripping into her arm.

  “Medication to stop the contractions, then we’ll see where we stand.” His hand tightened on hers, and now she saw the brightness of tears in his eyes.

  “Spence, I’m scared.” That hadn’t been what she’d meant to say.

  He pulled her into his arms. “Me, too, but I’m not going to let our baby die. No matter what, I won’t let anything happen to you or our baby.”

  She wanted to hug him back, but her arms were so heavy and the IV wouldn’t let her move. “Promise.” She heard the nurses saying something, but she wasn’t letting him go.

  “Promise. Cross my heart. Stick a needle in my eye.”

  She tried to smile. Then Spence leaned over to kiss her forehead. As she drifted off, the nurse scolded him, while Spence went all lawyer on her ass...hiney.

  * * *

  “MR. MACCORMACK, YOUR SON...”

  Spence turned toward the voice and saw Calvin and Rickie standing by a woman in scrubs. The little guy’s cheeks glistened with tears, and Rickie’s face shone white in the harsh lighting. Spence opened his arms to both of them. Calvin slammed into him, sobs shaking his thin, fragile body. Rickie buried her face into his shoulder. Spence’s own eyes burned with tears, too. He feared giving into his own barely checked sobs because if he started, there’d be no way he could stop. Dad up.