Her Guardian Rancher

by Brenda Minton

  Boone arched a brow and grinned. “We don’t have anything else on the calendar for today, do we?”

  “No, nothing else. And we both love to get Emma riled up. Let’s go, Art.” Daron led the older man down the steps and to his truck. “You aren’t going to bleed all over my new truck, are you?”

  Art stumbled a bit, but his voice, when he answered, was still strong. “I reckon if I do, you can get it cleaned up.”

  Daron laughed. “Yeah, I reckon.”

  The three of them crowded into the front of Daron’s truck, Art in the middle. Boone leaned back in the seat like he was in his beat-up old recliner and happy as he could be.

  “Now that it’s just us,” Art started, “why don’t you tell me what you think Pete Shaw wanted the other night?”

  Daron pulled onto the main road. “You knew that Pete was out there?”

  “No, not at first. I heard Emma shout and then heard Pete mumble something about her trying to kill him. I was heading for my bedroom door when I heard you say something and I just figure you’re a few years younger, so you might as well handle things.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Art. And I’m not sure what Pete’s after.”

  “I guess I just figured you had some idea, since you’re patrolling the place like an overworked guard dog.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Art shot him a look. “It isn’t like you can hide a pearly white Ford King Ranch like this. I’m old, I get up at night and I’ve seen you driving by like you’re keeping an eye on the place. Emma has seen you. I guess she told you to mind your own business.”

  Daron kept driving. “I’m not patrolling. I’m just driving by on a public street.”

  “Call it what you want,” Art said. “I call it patrolling. Emma calls it being a nuisance. I reckon you have your reasons.”

  “I’d like to be able to help out, Art.”

  “There’s nothing you can help with, Daron. I know you mean well, but we’ve got it handled. We’ve struggled a bit, but things aren’t so bad we can’t deal with it. This hand might slow down patching up that roof, but we got a tarp on it yesterday and that’ll hold us over until I can climb up there.”

  “But what about Pete?” Boone asked, entering the conversation with a quiet question. “What’s he after?”

  “He’s an addict who believes there’s more money than what he got. Emma has other concerns without Pete stirring up trouble for her. I told her to call his parents but she won’t. She doesn’t want anything to do with Andy’s family.”

  “Don’t you think they’d like to know Jamie?” Boone asked, his tone casual.

  Art guffawed at that. “They know they have a granddaughter. But they’re the kind that thinks they’re better than others, and that Emma wasn’t quite what they wanted for their son. They encouraged the divorce. I can’t say I wasn’t glad when the marriage ended, as Andy wasn’t particularly nice to my granddaughter, but I’m sorry his family lost him.”

  “Art, what’s wrong with Jamie?” Daron tried to ease back into the conversation, but he saw from the corner of his eye that it didn’t work.

  “Now, that’s something you’ll have to ask Emma. And I reckon if she wanted you to know, she’d tell you.”

  “She’s been too busy telling him to leave her alone,” Boone added.

  Daron didn’t thank his friend for his special brand of humor. He wanted answers, and this wasn’t getting him anywhere. He drove faster, telling himself he wanted to get Art to the ER a little quicker.

  It wasn’t the truth. What he wanted was to get to Emma’s side, sooner rather than later. He could tell himself it was because he was worried about Jamie, which he was. Or he could blame it on a need to keep Andy’s widow safe.

  He needed to keep a promise to a dying friend. When he’d made the promise to Andy, it was about a woman he didn’t know and a baby not yet born.

  Now he knew them. He knew Emma as a woman of strength and faith. She loved her little girl. She loved her grandfather.

  Unconditional love.

  Watching her, being around them, it made him want to be a better man. The kind of man she allowed into her life.

  Chapter Four

  Emma stood back as her daughter was examined by the on-call physician in the Braswell Community Hospital pediatric wing. The doctor smiled as he rubbed the stethoscope to warm it; then he winked at her daughter and told her she was brave and promised she’d be getting the best dessert once they were finished with the examination.

  “She’s a strong girl, Mom.” The doctor listened, “Another breath, Jamie.”

  Jamie took a deep, shaky breath. She was still pale. Her lips weren’t as pink as normal. It had been so frightening, that moment when Emma realized her daughter was gasping for air. She’d hit the call button, summoning a nurse as she tried to calm Jamie, telling her it was fine, to take slow, easy breaths.

  A hand touched Emma’s. Samantha Jenkins moved to her side. “I’m sorry—I was with another patient down in X-ray. She’s okay, Emma.”

  Not a question, a statement of fact. Samantha’s expression was reassuring as she gave Emma a quick hug.

  Emma nodded, accepting the words of encouragement, but it didn’t immediately undo her fear. Her hands trembled and she couldn’t seem to stop the shaking.

  “Let’s step into the hall,” Dr. Jacobs said, patting Jamie’s arm. “I’m going to have a nurse come in and give Jamie her dessert options.”

  “Mommy.” Jamie’s voice was weak.

  “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

  Tears filled Jamie’s blue eyes. Emma leaned to kiss her forehead. She wiped away the tears that rolled down her daughter’s flushed cheeks and she fought the tightness in her own throat.

  “Your mom will be right back, kiddo. And I bet the two of you will share a brownie.” Samantha eased in next to Emma. “I’ll stay with you until she gets back.”

  Jamie nodded, her eyes closing as Samantha trailed fingers through her hair. Emma stepped into the hall where Dr. Jacobs waited. The elevators at the end of the hall opened. Her grandfather stepped out and headed her way. Daron McKay followed. The fear that had cascaded over her gave way to relief. The tears she’d fought fell free and she sobbed.

  “Let’s take a walk.” Dr. Jacobs inclined his head, directing her away from Jamie’s room.

  Her grandfather, his hand bandaged from the cut she’d been called about, and Daron, fell in next to her. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. Now she wasn’t. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks and she swiped at them with her hand until her grandfather handed her a clean, white handkerchief from his pocket.

  Dr. Jacobs led them to a conference room with a table, bright fluorescent lights and molded plastic chairs. “It isn’t comfortable, but there’s more room if we’re going to have several of us. Unless you’d prefer just the two of us having this conversation?”

  “No, of course not.” Her gaze skimmed past her granddad to Daron, standing in the doorway, his cowboy hat in his hands as he waited. “They can join us.”

  Dr. Jacobs motioned them all to the table. “Let’s have a seat.”

  She sat down, the chair scraping on the tile floor. Daron sat at the end of the table, several chairs away. Her grandfather sat next to her. He put his arm around her, giving her a light squeeze. The gesture was as familiar as her own reflection in the mirror. From the very beginning, that had been his way of comforting a lost and hurting girl. She was a woman now, and sometimes felt responsible for him, but he was still her strength.

  Dr. Jacobs sat across from them. He was youngish, with dark hair and dark eyes, the smooth planes of his face covered in five o’clock shadow. Yes, he was older than her twenty-eight years. But he was still too young.

  “Isn’t Dr. Jack
son in today?” she asked.

  Dr. Jacobs smiled, because of course she’d made it obvious that she was worried. “Not today, but don’t worry. I’m smarter than I look.”

  “I’m sorry,” she started to apologize, and he stopped her.

  “Don’t be. I know I look young. I also know that your daughter is the most important person in your life and you want only the best for her. I’m the best. I wouldn’t be here if Dr. Jackson didn’t think that I was qualified for the position. So let’s figure out what we need to do for your daughter.”

  “Okay.” She met his steady gaze. “What do we do?”

  He glanced over the file in his hands. “We start with an echocardiogram. I’m worried about the ventricular septal defect, but I also think she has pneumonia. We’ll do blood tests, start her on IV antibiotics and get her hydrated.”

  He listed it off, as if it were a shopping list. But it was her daughter. It was Jamie’s heart. It was her life.

  “She’ll be okay,” Emma heard herself say. Not a question. A statement of faith. God hadn’t gotten them this far to let them down.

  “She’ll be great. I think she should stay in the hospital for a few days. And I also think we need to take a careful look at her heart because it might be time to repair the VSD.”

  “Open-heart surgery?” For years she’d dreaded those words.

  “I hope not. We have options other than open heart. I’m an optimist.” Dr. Jacobs gave her a steady look. “I’m also a man of faith. We’ll do everything we can. And when we’ve done all we can, we stand on faith.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes against the fear, the hope, the onslaught of emotions that swept over her. A chair scraped. A hand settled on her shoulder. Without looking she knew that it was Daron. That he was there, standing behind her, the way he’d been doing since he got back from Afghanistan. It was guilt that kept him in her life. But today she didn’t mind. Today his presence felt a lot like friendship and she wasn’t going to turn that down.

  Somehow she would get through this. Jamie would be okay. They would have the surgery, and she would be healthy. But it was good to have people to depend on.

  “When will the surgery take place?” Daron asked, his voice deep, strong.

  “I think sometime after Christmas. I want to know that she’s strong enough before we send her down to Austin.”

  “Austin?” Emma asked, the reality of what he’d said hitting home.

  Dr. Jacobs leaned a bit, making eye contact. “I’d love to tell you we could do the surgery here, but we can’t. We’ll contact specialists and she’ll have the best of care.”

  “But you do believe we can wait until after Christmas?” Daron asked, his use of the pronoun we not lost on her.

  “Yes, I think so. Unless there’s a change, she isn’t in any immediate danger. For now our main concern is this infection.” Dr. Jacobs cleared his throat. “I know this is a lot to take in. What we want right now is for Jamie to rest, and for Mom to not worry.”

  “I think we can make sure that happens,” Granddad said, patting Emma’s hand.

  “And we’ll do our best, as well,” Dr. Jacobs responded.

  “Can I go back to her now?” Emma needed to see her daughter. She needed to hug her and to reassure herself that Jamie was okay.

  “Yes. I ordered the blood test. We’ll give her a little time to relax and then we’ll take her down for the echocardiogram.” Dr. Jacobs stood, the file in his capable hands. He handed her several printed copies. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Emma looked down at the files in her hands, the words swimming as she blinked away tears. Ugh, she didn’t want to cry. No more tears.

  The doctor left, the door closing behind him.

  Her grandfather steepled his hands on the table and cleared his throat. “I reckon you ought to tell Andy’s parents about their granddaughter.”

  “I’m not going to call them. They don’t want anything to do with her.”

  “They might want to know about this,” her granddad pushed in his quiet way. “Em, she is their granddaughter.”

  “No, she isn’t. She’s your granddaughter. There’s more to grandparenting than a title and DNA. I’m not going to call them.”

  “Forgive—” her grandfather started.

  “I will forgive,” she conceded in a softer tone. “But I’m not through being angry.”

  She pushed back, the chair hitting Daron. She’d forgotten he was behind her. He grunted and rubbed his knee.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her hand going to his arm. “I have to go. Jamie will wonder where I’ve gone to.”

  Boone Wilder was waiting outside Jamie’s door. He tipped his hat, his smile somber. His presence made her falter, just a step. She’d gotten used to Daron’s presence, his midnight drives past her house. Boone was more low-key with his interference.

  “Boone,” she said as she slipped past him. “You don’t have to be here.”

  “Now, why wouldn’t I be here, Emma?”

  Arguing with him would have been pointless. It was their code. Whether as cowboys or soldiers, they stuck together. They took care of their own. She had become theirs when Andy died.

  He followed her into the hospital room, where a nurse was setting up to draw blood. Samantha still sat next to the bed, Jamie’s hand in hers. Her grandfather came in, not minding that the small room was crowded. He moved in close to his great-granddaughter and patted her hand. Jamie smiled up at him.

  “Hey, Grand-girl, you sure do look pretty.” He touched her nose.

  Jamie managed a weak attempt at a smile and touched his bandaged hand. The gesture undid something inside Emma. She hadn’t thought to ask him what happened. How exactly did he get hurt? How bad was the injury?

  “You were working on the tractor, weren’t you, Granddad?” she asked, watching as he moved his hand from Jamie’s reach.

  He winked at Jamie and then glanced up at her, his look a little more serious. “Just a little cut from that tractor.”

  “I told you...” She shook her head. Daron moved in behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She breathed deep and relaxed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

  And he was a grown man. He didn’t want her telling him what he could or couldn’t do.

  “You don’t always have to be there, kiddo. And I can get cut with or without your help. Boone and Daron came out and got me all fixed up. So right now let’s worry about my ladybug.”

  Just like that, the room cleared. Boone and Daron slipped into the hall. Samantha smiled down at Jamie, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and told her she would check on that brownie. Then it was just the nurse drawing the blood, Jamie, Emma and her grandfather.

  “We’re going to put her on oxygen.” The nurse said it quietly. “She’s doing fine, but a little won’t hurt. Also, we’ve got a line in and we’re starting her on antibiotics and fluids.”

  “Thank you.” Emma sank into the chair next to her daughter. “Do you feel better?”

  Jamie nodded, her eyes scrunched, her cheeks pink from the fever. “I like brownies.”

  “Yes, you do.” Emma swiped at a tear that rolled down her cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you, Mommy.”

  Never had any words meant so much. Except maybe when her grandfather told her everything would be okay. She always believed him, trusted him.

  Movement outside the door caught her attention. And then she heard the scrape of a chair on the tile floors. She glanced that way as Daron placed a chair next to the door and took a seat, a cup of coffee in his hand and his cowboy hat pulled low. He crossed his right ankle over his left knee and leaned back. It looked like he planned on being there for a while.

  She should tell him to go h
ome. But she couldn’t. Not today, when it felt better knowing he was there. He’d managed to enter her circle of trusted people. She hoped he didn’t let her down.

  * * *

  Daron woke with a start, rubbing his neck that had grown stiff from sleeping in the waiting room chair. He’d pulled it into the hall, next to Jamie Shaw’s room. It was late. The halls were quiet, the lights dimmed for the night. The quiet whisper of nurses drifted down the hallways, but he couldn’t make out their words. He glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes after midnight.

  Standing, he stretched, rolling his shoulders and neck, and managed to feel almost human again. His back ached, but he could live with it. He’d been living with it for a few years. He took a careful, quiet step and peeked into Jamie’s room.

  Emma was asleep, like him, in a chair not made for comfort. Her head rested on the hospital bed. Her hand clasped her daughter’s. Jamie was awake. She glanced his way, her eyes large in her pale face. He silently eased into the room and lifted the cup of water next to her bed. She shook her head and her smile wobbled. He hadn’t been around too many kids in his life, but this one had his heart. She had from the moment he first saw her through the window of the nursery at this very hospital. She’d been pink, fighting mad and none too pretty.

  He guessed she knew she had him wrapped around her finger. And that was okay by him.

  Not wanting to wake Emma, he brushed a hand through Jamie’s hair, then raised a finger to his lips. Her stuffed animal had fallen to the floor. He picked it up and tucked it in next to her. When she seemed content, he turned his attention to Emma. She had to be cold, curled up the way she was in the vinyl hospital chair. Looking around the room, he spotted a blanket folded on a shelf and returned to cover her with it. She didn’t stir.

  With a wave, he headed toward the door. Jamie watched him go, snuggling into her blanket and closing her eyes. He walked down the hall, not really sure where he was heading. Of course he wouldn’t leave. He was used to pulling all-nighters. Sleep wasn’t typically his friend, because in sleep the nightmares returned.

  A soft light shone from a room at the end of the unit. He headed that way, curious. When he got there and peeked in, his curiosity evaporated. The chapel. The light came from a lamp illuminating a cross. On a shelf beneath it lay a Bible. A plaque hung on the wall next to the display, with the words “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. Psalm 119:105” engraved on it.