Cowboy Sam's Quadruplets

by Tina Leonard

  Chapter Seventeen

  Seton felt herself go pale. Secret-keeper. That was what Running Bear had called her. She stared into Sam’s angry eyes, which normally gazed at her with such kindness, and realized there was more he’d been keeping from her besides the fact that he’d played a bit rough with an assailant he’d surprised in the bunkhouse.

  “Sam,” she said, watching his big palm circle little Sarah’s back in comforting motions, “I don’t know anything about your parents except that they might not have died the way you were told.”

  “But your notebook I found lodged in the sofa tells a different story,” he said softly, and realization hit Seton.

  “If you read my journal, you know I have little more information than I’d already given you.” She blinked. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Sam, but there were reasons I didn’t.”

  “Well, just as you would have liked me to tell you that there was an ex-militia hire on the property, I would have liked you to tell me what you’d learned about my parents. I would have preferred you to be in here resting, as I thought you were, sweetheart, instead of digging like a squirrel in a garden. But I believe that didn’t happen.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have.” Now she knew what had been bothering her husband for the past couple of months. She remembered him asking her about her love of lists—though she hadn’t realized he’d read her notes on their family. “I wanted you to know. I wanted you to have peace, Sam. But then Chief Running Bear came, and he told me he knew what I’d found, but that I couldn’t tell you or anyone because dire consequences could result.” Seton looked at Sam, seeing nothing but disappointment and disbelief in his eyes.

  “Running Bear knew, too?” Sam glanced around the room. “That means the place is being bugged. Or something. Because the commando knew you’d been contacting someone about our family.”

  Seton felt the blood rush from her face and her blood pressure drop, just as it had in the hospital after she’d given birth.

  Only this time the light-headed, weak feeling was due to shock.

  “Are you saying your attacker came here because of something I did?”

  Sam nodded, his gaze narrowed as he looked around the room. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re the only one who was in this bunkhouse actively seeking out information about our parents.”

  She shook her head, agonized. “I would never have purposefully brought danger to Rancho Diablo, Sam.”

  “You didn’t know the history—nor did I,” Sam said, and Seton was grateful he acknowledged that. “How could Running Bear have known? Who were you talking to? Or emailing?”

  Seton blinked. “Aunt Corinne. The library. I checked some courthouse files. I think that’s all.”

  “Nothing military?”

  She shook her head. “I have no access whatsoever to anyone in the military.”

  Sam closed his eyes, still rubbing Sarah’s back with his hand. It dawned on Seton that he was going to be a great father. He loved his children. Somewhere between I don’t want any and maybe one would be all right, Sam had become a father who truly loved his small offspring.

  With a sinking heart, Seton realized that he might not ever be able to love her, not after all the secrets she’d kept. But he was every inch a good and loving father.

  Her heart broke. This was her own fault. She’d asked an awful lot of their marriage. Maybe not everything was her doing, but she thought it would be difficult for Sam to believe the best of her.

  She hadn’t meant to hurt him.

  “I am so sorry,” she said again, knowing that her apology couldn’t really make up for what she’d unwittingly stirred up.

  “I know,” Sam said. “So am I.”

  He closed his eyes again.

  The discussion was over.

  IN THE NEXT SEVERAL DAYS, they were too busy to talk. The babies needed attention all the time, and Seton and Sam took two weeks with everyone out of the house, to see how much they could handle on their own. Sam ran the pediatrician routes, and Seton did a lot of breast-feeding for the ones who wanted it, and bottle feeding for the babies who weren’t inclined to wait their turn.

  It was the most hectic time of Seton’s life, but she loved every minute. Except for the distance between her and Sam, everything was perfect.

  Being a mother was just as wonderful as she’d ever imagined it could be.

  “You’re flourishing,” Sabrina said when she came to visit, and Seton smiled.

  “Not flourishing. But I would say we’re getting the hang of it.”

  “How does Sam feel about being a dad?”

  Seton picked up Bear and checked his diaper before settling him in her lap. “He loves that part.”

  “And everything else?”

  “We’re too busy to think of anything beyond survival at the moment,” Seton answered, trying to avoid her sister’s question.

  “I’ve decided to stay in Diablo,” Sabrina said, changing the subject, for which Seton was grateful. “As much as I loved living in D.C., I love living here with family more. It’ll be nice for my son to have cousins to play with.”

  “I’m so glad you’re staying.” Seton had hoped that was a decision Sabrina would make, but she also understood it might be awkward for her sister here. “I’d miss you so very much if you went back.”

  “Well, I’m going to have to go back for a bit, to pack up my stuff and clean out my apartment. And I need to find a place here. Aunt Corinne says I can keep using the upstairs bedroom, but I worry I’d be disrupting her life too much. She’s not used to having an infant around.”

  Seton smiled at that. “I don’t think Aunt Corinne is too worried about babies disrupting her life. She’s over here all the time.”

  “I know.” Sabrina smiled down at her son, Jonas Cavanaugh McKinley who lay quietly in his carrier. “Mom and Dad are dying to come visit.”

  “I know. I don’t think we can hold them off much longer. The only thing that’s kept them away is the fact that I wasn’t supposed to have visitors, and they wanted to see all the babies at once.” Seton looked at her sister. “I get why you named your baby Jonas, although it’s a dead giveaway, even for Big Jonas, when he returns—”

  “No. I call the baby Joe,” Sabrina said. “Jonas will never know, at least not until I decide to tell him.”

  “So what’s with the Cavanaugh?”

  Sabrina thought about it for a minute. “It was Jonas’s mother’s maiden name.”

  Seton hesitated. “How did you find that out?”

  “I looked up their family tree online. It’s not hard,” Sabrina said. “I was thinking about baby names, and when you were resting one day, I used your laptop to see what I could find. I hope that was all right.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Seton said. They’d always shared each other’s things, anyway. “What did you find?”

  Sabrina shrugged. “I put in Callahan, Rancho Diablo, and Fiona’s name, and I turned up Cavanaugh. Funny, because I always thought that Jeremiah was Fiona’s brother. But it turns out Fiona was Molly’s sister. I guess I had that wrong.”

  “I think a lot of people did,” Seton said softly. “And then what?”

  “I put in Ireland, and Cavanaugh came up. Molly and Fiona Cavanaugh were born in Dublin.”

  Sabrina had easily found a lot of the same information she had. Seton glanced at her laptop, thinking about Running Bear knowing that she was searching, and also Sam claiming the intruder had known that she was actively trying to find out more about their parents.

  “Sabrina, do you ever get those flashes of intuition anymore?”

  “Clairvoyance?” She shrugged. “Sometimes. Not as much as I used to. I think I’m too tired from being a new mom. I’m not getting much sleep. More than you are, but not as much as before. Or maybe I’m just not as in tune to it now that I have little Joe to focus on.” She smiled proudly at her round, happy baby.

  Seton looked at her sister. “Would you know if
there was a presence on this ranch that didn’t belong here?”

  “You mean that no one else knew about?” Sabrina shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not unless it came to me. I never know when it will happen. Sometimes when I shake someone’s hand, I can tell in that moment if that person is good, or not feeling well, things like that. But I haven’t felt anything at Rancho Diablo that isn’t right. I never even got bad feelings about Bode, and the Callahans were certain he was the devil.”

  Seton didn’t think the Callahan parents were at the ranch, hidden away as Sam’s attacker had supposedly been. Someone would have noticed two people living in the canyons....

  She sighed. “My mind is going crazy.”

  “Lack of sleep.” Sabrina stood, picked up Joe’s carrier. “I’m going to go. Try to get some rest.”

  “I’ll try. You, too. Bye, baby Joe.” Seton watched her sister walk out the door, then moved to her laptop.

  And then it hit her: it was all the searching she and Sabrina were doing. If the intruder had made it into the bunkhouse once, he’d probably done it before. And her laptop had always been out, sitting on the coffee table or in the office, easily accessible to Sabrina—or anyone else.

  Seton searched through her computer, looking for recently uploaded files, then checked the programs and ran a spyware scan.

  After hunting for five minutes, she turned up what she’d been looking for: a data-mining bug had been installed on her laptop.

  Someone had known, every time she’d searched, what she’d been looking for and what information she’d turned up. Her investigative skills had given her many of the answers she’d been seeking—and they’d also let someone else know the same information.

  She could have led the bad guys right to Sam’s parents, wherever they were, if they were still alive. Whoever he was, he’d bided his time, letting her do all the work.

  She’d brought danger to Rancho Diablo—just as Running Bear had tried to warn her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “So tell me how you figured out it was the laptop?” Sam asked Seton the next day, when she decided it was time to clear her conscience. The knowledge of what she’d done had kept her up all night. She’d been up anyway, with Sarah Colleen’s colic and Bear’s unsettled cries because his sister was upset. But Seton’s mind hadn’t been able to rest, thinking about what could have happened to Sam.

  That was what tortured her the most. What if he’d been hurt? Sam’s attacker had the element of surprise on his side. In spite of all her tough talk about Sam not letting Bear fight, she was secretly very glad her husband had been able to defend himself.

  The thought that she could have lost Sam had nearly given her a nervous fit. While the babies always calmed her down—she loved being with them, no matter the time of day or night—last night she’d been jangled, jumpy, unable to tell Sam how she really felt.

  Now she looked into his denim-colored eyes and told herself how lucky she was that everything had turned out all right. “Sabrina said she used my laptop one day while I was napping. That made me realize that my computer was always out and always available. And if your attacker had gotten in here once, he’d probably found it very easy to do so on other occasions. Most likely in the early morning, when it was still dark outside and you’d gone to work.” Seton shivered. “Sometimes I slept pretty hard when I was pregnant.”

  “I guess that makes sense, though I don’t like the thought of someone breaking in while you were here.”

  “I know. It’s creepy.” Seton looked around at the four Moses baskets holding the babies in the common room and shrugged. “No one could come in and surprise us now. Someone is always awake in this house.”

  Sam nodded. “True. Go on.”

  “So I scanned my computer and finally turned up a tracking bug. I think you should take the computer to Sheriff Cartwright and let his people look it over. He probably knows the right place to have it checked thoroughly, for bugs and any other evidence that could help him.”

  “But you have all your personal and work files on there.”

  Seton shrugged. “Nothing that Mr. Ex-Commando hasn’t already seen. And as far as clients, I don’t keep their information on my laptop for just that reason. I move everything to separate memory sticks for each client in case I ever lose my laptop or it’s stolen. I keep the memory sticks in a lockbox for privacy and safekeeping.”

  “Good girl,” Sam said. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

  “So the only thing on there that he could track was where and with whom I was making contact about your family. That was really the only case I was working on at the moment, anyway. Everything else had been swept off.”

  “I’ll take it to the sheriff,” Sam said. “They’re not going to be able to hold that guy forever. They have to have something to charge him with, and I don’t know if breaking and entering is enough. Someone might post bail for him.”

  “No one will post bail for him,” Seton said. “He’s been off the radar for years, living in the canyons, waiting on your parents. He’s basically a phantom. If you had buried him in a cave, no one would have come forward. I doubt he has any family at all. Whoever he works for is the only one who cares about his existence, and even then he’s expendable.”

  Sam looked at her. “You’re good at what you do, aren’t you? This P.I. stuff?”

  “My clients seem happy with the results,” Seton said carefully. “I get plenty of referral work.”

  “Is it dangerous? I don’t want you working anymore if what you’re doing is dangerous.”

  “Okay,” Seton said, “I’ll just sit here in my own house, where people who want to kill your family come in and snoop.”

  Sam blinked. “You’re right. We’re going to have to move.”

  “I didn’t say a thing about moving!” Seton was aghast at the conclusion he had drawn.

  “I know, but we’ll have to. This bunkhouse is way too open and there are too many doors and windows for it to be safe.” Sam glanced toward his four sleeping children, who were content to rest for the moment after their busy night of colic and tears. “Anything could happen.”

  Seton frowned. “Don’t you think it’s safer here, where there’s a lot of people? That’s what your aunt wanted—everybody on the ranch, one big happy family in one big compound. Really, Sam, I think you’re jumping the gun.”

  He shook his head. “You need to be in town. There’s a two-story, white brick house—the Stevens’ place—that’s gone on the market. It’s probably six thousand square feet, built in the old style, so every one of these munchkins could have their own bathroom. Well, two of them would have to share, but girls do that all right, don’t they?”

  “Not always,” Seton said. “But Sabrina and I did, and it was fun.”

  “There you go,” Sam said. “I’ll go by and look at it tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to move,” Seton protested. “I like the bunkhouse.”

  “No one raises their family in a bunkhouse, Seton. A long time ago, all the wranglers and hands lived in this place. At least they did until Fiona decided we were old enough to work the ranch ourselves.”

  “Sam, take the laptop to the sheriff. I want to nap. I don’t want to think about intruders and mystery visitors anymore. And I truly don’t want to move away from my new sisters. I love it at Rancho Diablo.”

  Sam picked up the computer. “You sure you’ll be all right with the munchkins?”

  “Yes, Sam.” Seton waved her worrying husband away. “Go. If you hurry, I might get twenty minutes of sleep before they awaken.”

  “I’m already gone,” Sam said, and disappeared.

  Seton blew out a breath.

  She lay down on the sofa and closed her eyes. Sam was so handsome and so protective. He was so much more than she’d ever dreamed she’d find in a husband.

  The fact that all this craziness had happened because of her was killing her.

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Sam came home to the bu
nkhouse to find an unpleasant surprise: Seton was packing. There were stacks of her clothes and baby paraphernalia laid out on the bed, with more folded in a black suitcase.

  It felt as if a knife had been launched at his chest.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, holding the bouquet he’d brought for her. Spring flowers he’d bought at the florist shop, which he hoped would put a smile on Seton’s face. Lately, she seemed so quiet, so withdrawn.

  He was hoping it was because of the babies, and adjusting to their new lifestyle, but the suitcase told a different story.

  Seton turned to face him. “Sam, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—quite a lot of thinking, actually, and—”