Second Chance Cowboy

by B. J Daniels

  The women took the baby from Hank to clean it up as the infant squalled. Then they handed the baby, wrapped in a clean blanket, to Hank.

  He looked down at the baby, smiling as he stepped around the end of the bed to where Arlene stood.

  “Would you like to hold your grandson?” he asked.

  She nodded and he put the wriggling, crying baby into her arms.

  Charlotte sat up to look at her son for a moment, a look of wonder in her gaze.

  It was only then that anyone noticed Lucas. At some point in the delivery he’d keeled over.

  As he came to on the floor, he said, “It really is a boy?”

  That’s when Arlene noticed the blood. “Oh, God, Hank, you’re hurt.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  At daylight, the emergency room at the Whitehorse hospital was bursting at the seams, between the injured patients, the newborn baby and her mother and the local sheriff’s department.

  “I’m going to need a statement from both of you,” Sheriff Carter Jackson told Hank and Arlene.

  The two Hispanic women had been taken into custody, and an APB had been put out on Meredith Foster. Both Hank and Arlene asked for clemency for the Hispanic women.

  “If it wasn’t for them…” Arlene said, her emotions to close to the edge.

  “I understand,” the sheriff said. “Arlene, I want to apologize. I’m sorry I didn’t take your concerns more seriously.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, no doubt surprising him. The old Arlene Evans would be threatening to sue the department and everyone in sight. “Charlotte and the baby are fine. That’s all that matters.”

  The sheriff still looked upset with himself.

  “Aren’t you getting married in a few hours?” Arlene asked. “Isn’t today the Fourth of July?”

  He frowned. “Yes, but I—”

  “I’m sure your deputy can handle this,” she said. “You should go get ready for your wedding. We’re all fine.”

  Lucas had a few cuts and bruises. Even being clipped by Meredith’s SUV hadn’t been any worse than some of his motorcycle accidents, he said.

  Arlene liked watching him with the baby and Charlotte. Maybe there was hope for Lucas yet. Maybe there was hope for all of them.

  The gunshot Hank had taken hadn’t hit any vital organs, and while he’d lost a lot of blood, the doctor said he was in great shape for his age—didn’t she know it—and that he should be up and around in no time. He’d have to recuperate for a while, though.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,” Arlene told the doctor, then looked over at Hank. “That is, if you’ll let me.”

  He shook his head. “I want to take care of you. You saved my life, Arlene.”

  She brushed that off. “We’re even then. You saved mine in more ways than you can imagine. Not to mention that if it hadn’t been for you…” Her voice broke. “I don’t know what would have happened to Charlotte and my grandson. But all that aside, I’m going to take care of you as long as you need me.”

  HANK SMILED AND pulled her to him for a kiss. He’d seen a lot of things in his life, but he’d never seen a baby born before.

  It had done something to him that he could hardly comprehend. All he knew was that he’d glimpsed his future in the birth of that baby. A future of grandchildren, long horseback rides across the prairie. And maybe someday he and Arlene would travel the world as he’d originally planned. Or maybe they would just sit on the porch and watch the sunset and count their blessings that they’d been given a second chance for happiness.

  All of that would have to wait, though. Until he was on his feet again. And then he’d have to take it slow. Arlene would have a lot to adjust to with helping Charlotte plan a wedding and spending time with her new grandson.

  But he felt they had all the time in the world now.

  Hank had put in a call to one of the numbers he’d told himself he’d forgotten. He’d given the person who answered the information about Rena and the coordinates, and by the time the sheriff’s department had reached the cabin, all evidence of Rena was gone. To all accounts, she’d never existed.

  He’d told the sheriff that he must have shot himself when he’d taken a fall. Lucas was smarter than he looked. He’d backed up Hank’s story of losing control of the SUV on the road.

  Rena was dead. That part of his life was truly over.

  Arlene finally talked the sheriff into leaving to get ready for his wedding, which was taking place at the Whitehorse Community Center this afternoon, followed by a fireworks show.

  “You should go to the wedding,” Hank told Arlene.

  “I’m not leaving you. The doctor’s going to admit you to the hospital. Charlotte has a room down the hall. The doctor said she’s sleeping peacefully. She’s going to be all right. This has changed her, Hank. She knows now how her lies led to what happened. I’m just so thankful that Meredith took good care of her, probably made her eat better than I was ever able to.”

  “And the baby?”

  “At the nursery. That’s where Lucas is. He’s so young to be a father, but he’s determined to make a life for the three of them. He’s already lined up a job on a ranch near here.”

  “You don’t have to stay with me,” Hank said.

  “Don’t you have cookies to bake for the fair? A wedding to go to? A fireworks show? A grandson to gaze at?”

  Arlene laughed, took his hand and smiled down at him. “I’m right where I want to be.”

  It wasn’t until later that day that they heard Meredith Foster had been arrested. She’d given herself up and had made a full confession—including the murder of her husband John.

  In her statement, according to what the deputy told them, Meredith said that unlike pretending to be pregnant, shooting her husband had actually been pleasurable.

  “She could have gotten off easy on the other charges,” the deputy said. “After all, she took Arlene to her daughter and she made sure there was someone there to deliver the baby. But cold-blooded premeditated murder?” He shook his head. “You got to wonder what she was thinking, huh?”

  THE WHITEHORSE Community Center was overflowing. Everyone in several counties had shown up for what they were all calling “the wedding of the century”—the marriage of Eve Bailey and Sheriff Carter Jackson.

  If it happened.

  Bets were being taken at the local bars.

  Even Eve Bailey’s sisters weren’t too sure.

  “Would you stop eyeing me like that,” Eve snapped. “I’m fine.”

  “Of course you are,” her sister McKenna said, giving their youngest sister, Faith, a wink.

  “If you were any more fine, we’d have to peel you off the wall.”

  “I love Carter,” Eve said. “I’m marrying him. Today. And nothing is going to stop that from happening. I heard what happened down by the Breaks. But Carter will be here.”

  McKenna and Faith exchanged looks behind her back.

  “I saw that,” Eve said and pointed to the large mirror against her bedroom wall. The two laughed and plopped down on their sister’s bed.

  “It’s all going to come off without a hitch,” McKenna assured her. “Carter wouldn’t miss this. Wild horses couldn’t keep him away.”

  Eve clearly wasn’t convinced. “Even if he’s late…”

  Just then they heard the sirens and all raced to the second-floor window. They could see all the cars parked for a good half mile around the community center—and a cloud of dust coming up the road toward Old Town.

  The siren died off as the patrol car skidded to a stop in front of the center. A cheer went up. Eve began to cry. “It’s Carter. He made it.”

  “Of course he did,” McKenna said as she and Faith hugged their sister.

  “The Whitehorse Sewing Circle decorated the center with fresh flowers,” Faith said. “It really is gorgeous.”

  “What about the food for the reception?” Eve asked, excited and nervous and anxious.

  “Laci
and Bridger have it covered,” McKenna told her.

  “I hate to have my brother have to work on the day of my wedding,” Eve said, frowning.

  “You know Bridger wasn’t about to let anyone else cater this wedding,” Faith said. “It’s his present to you. Don’t you think we should get down to the center?”

  “Yes,” their mother said from the doorway. Lila Bailey Jackson wore an emerald jewel-tone dress that was stunning on her. “May I speak to Eve alone for a moment?” she asked her other two daughters. “We’ll meet you at the community center in the bride’s room in a few minutes.”

  “If this is going to be that mother-daughter talk you’ve been putting off.” Eve joked. “It’s a few years too late.”

  Lila smiled and shook her head. “There is nothing I can tell you about life that you haven’t already figured out for yourself. There’s someone downstairs who needs to talk to you.”

  Eve felt her heart leap to her throat as she let her mother lead her downstairs to where Pearl Cavanaugh sat in her wheelchair in the kitchen. Eve’s twin brother, Bridger, stood at the window. He turned as she walked in.

  “I wanted to give you your wedding present early,” Pearl said, her speech slow from her stroke but clear enough that Eve had no trouble understanding her.

  Eve saw what the woman held on her lap and frowned. Pearl held Eve’s quilted baby blanket, the tiny quilt the Whitehorse Sewing Circle had made for her when she was born—just as the women had done for all newborns in the area.

  Only her birth hadn’t been here. She and her twin brother had never known where they were born. They had each followed the thread of their lives to this spot, Old Town Whitehorse. The rest of the answers had been lost. All they knew is that they were two of the babies who were found homes through an illegal adoption ring run by the women of the Whitehorse Sewing Circle.

  “I don’t understand,” Eve said as she glanced at Bridger. She saw that his quilt was neatly folded in a plastic bag on the table, as it no doubt had been done by his mother for safekeeping.

  She met his gaze and saw that he had brought it but didn’t seem to understand any more than she did. For months the two of them had been trying to find out who their birth mother was and the circumstances of their birth.

  “I told myself that it was best to leave the past where it was,” Pearl said. “But the two of you made me see how badly you needed to know about your birth parents.” She nodded toward the quilt in Eve’s hands. “The answer is in the stitching.” Pearl stopped, out of breath.

  Eve stared down at the quilt in her hands. The answer is in the stitching? She saw it then, the tiny flowers, each carefully stitched along the border. “The files we found. Flowers. That’s the—”

  “Key to the code,” her twin brother answered for her as he picked up his own quilt, drawing it from the plastic bag to cradle it in his hands. Each quilt apparently had a different flower that matched up with the records the doctor had kept.

  Eve met her brother’s gaze across the table, tears springing to both their eyes. They both moved to Pearl as one.

  “Thank you,” Eve said, leaning down to press a kiss to the older woman’s smooth cheek.

  Bridger took Pearl’s hand, and she was smiling her lopsided smile up at him. The two had become close over the last few months, closer than Eve had imagined.

  “The truth comes with its own burden, though,” Pearl said. “I have kept the secret all these years. But I’m old and I realize I can’t let it die with me. So I am passing it to the two of you. Others will come to you over time, seeking the same answers you have. You will have to decide when to share the secret—or if keeping it would be kinder. It is a heavy burden, one I am glad to be free of.”

  Eve thought of her sisters. Like her, they were adopted. Would they one day change their minds and want to know about their birth mother?

  “I trust the two of you to make those decisions in the future,” Pearl said. “I guess I knew this day would come when I had the women stitch in a different flower border on each quilt.”

  The church bell at the community center began to ring.

  “Don’t you have a wedding to get to?” Pearl asked Eve, smiling up at her.

  Eve nodded. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  “I think I do,” she said as Bridger put his quilt back into the plastic bag for safekeeping and placing it in Pearl’s lap, pushed her wheelchair toward the door. “I just hope it brings you the peace you so desperately seek.”

  Epilogue

  Arlene hadn’t been to the Whitehorse Sewing Circle in months. She’d told herself that she could never hold her head up in that room with those women again. Not after everything that had happened with her family.

  That’s why she’d sat in her pickup for so long, parked outside the center. Just that morning she’d gotten a call from the state mental hospital. Violet had tried to escape. Her condition seemed to be worsening. The doctor felt she would need more treatment. Violet wouldn’t be getting out. At least not for the foreseeable future.

  “I think your daughter might be a harm to herself or others at this point,” the doctor had said.

  “Yes. I wish I had gotten her treatment earlier.” As the mother, she should have done something more.

  As she got out of the pickup, she prayed it wasn’t too late to help Violet and that someday her oldest daughter would be well.

  At the Whitehorse Community Center door she hesitated, took a deep breath and pushed, bracing herself as she readied to face down her own demons.

  The women around the quilt frame glanced up in surprise as Arlene stepped inside. Just her luck, most of them were here today. Alice Miller, Corky Mathews, Muriel Brown, Ella Cavanaugh, Helene Merchant. Even Pearl Cavanaugh in her wheelchair.

  “Hello, Arlene,” Pearl said in her slow post-stroke voice. The others murmured their greetings and continued working, sneaking looks at her. “I like your hair that way. It flatters you.”

  “Thank you, Pearl.” Arlene walked across the room and quietly pulled up a chair, several of the women moving aside to give her room to join them around the quilting frame.

  Her fingers trembled as she picked up a needle and threaded it. She knew everyone was watching her, but when she looked up, she found them all intent on their sewing.

  “Whose quilt are we working on?” she asked after a few moments.

  “Your grandson’s,” Pearl said and smiled a lopsided smile.

  Tears stung her eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a stitch. A comfortable silence seemed to settle over the room.

  Arlene remembered when she would have tried to fill the silence with anything she could think to say, usually a bit of gossip she’d heard. Silence had made her nervous.

  But today she settled into the work as she made a neat, small stitch on her grandson’s quilt, then another one.

  Each stitch—even hers—would eventually make up the whole. And for the first time in her life Arlene felt part of something bigger than herself.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-1700-7

  SECOND CHANCE COWBOY

  Copyright © 2008 by Barbara Heinlein

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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