Nick started the engine. It was probably smart to have someone along because there was no predicting what might happen. He drove west and turned into the subdivision. He pulled up to the curb outside the house, got out, and walked to the door, while Trey waited by the car.
Nick rang the bell. Would she answer? Was she even here?
The door opened quickly, surprising him, but then she looked just as surprised to see him standing there. Was she expecting someone else?
He motioned her outside. “We need to talk.”
She didn’t look great, but she didn’t look terrible either, and Nick was grateful for that. She nodded. “I know.” She stepped through the door and spotted Trey. “Hey, Music Man. How are things?”
He lifted one shoulder, cowboy easy. “Can’t complain.”
She laughed as if he’d said something funny. “Well, that’s a quality that didn’t come down from the Stafford side, did it?”
Trey didn’t engage the comment. He hung out, next to the car, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Listen, Whitney.”
She turned back toward Nick. “You’re upset because I missed the girls’ recital.”
That was all she had to say? She’d been in a wreck, her car was totaled, and she’d broken promises to him and her kids. “The girls expected you. They looked for you. Cheyenne has worked for years doing something she doesn’t even like, just so you’d be proud of her when you came back home. And then you didn’t even bother to show. How can I explain things like this to them?”
She had the decency to look guilty when he mentioned Cheyenne’s hard work. He continued, “Then you had Rye call me, and when I came to pick you up at the sheriff’s office, you’d gone off with someone else.”
“I don’t wait on Staffords anymore, Nick. Not now. Not ever again.”
He frowned. “You can have all the issues you want with me, but the girls need to know where they stand with you. They’re kids. Your kids,” he added with meaning.
“It matters to Cheyenne, maybe. Not Dakota.” She studied his face as if looking for something, then sighed. “She’s your little girl, Nick, through and through. She doesn’t need me. And she sure doesn’t want me around.”
His brain went right back to the cow story he shared with Elsa, how the occasional one showed no interest in her calf despite an udder full of milk. “She doesn’t know you,” he offered reasonably. “She’s a little girl. You’re her mother. Don’t you think it would be good for her to have a relationship with you?”
“Good for her?” She held his gaze deliberately. “Why would that be good for them? I’m not exactly mother-of-the-year material, now am I?”
What could he say to that? Nothing, so he let it be. “Kids want to know their mother loves them, because the opposite of that leaves you on the outside, looking in, for an awfully long time. I want more than that for them, Whitney.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got money, now, Nick. Not a lot, but some. I can get by.”
He heard the words and frowned, confused. “What’s that got to do with anything?” But even as he asked the question, he knew. He’d known it from the minute she’d rolled into town, pretending they mattered.
“Nothing if you’re rich, but when you’re down on your luck, a little bit of good fortune is a solid surprise. Aunt Rose’s trust fund just came down to me. It’s not Stafford huge, but it’s more money than I’ve seen in a while. Enough to fund my way out of this one-horse town.”
Another out-of-the-blue surprise. “You’re leaving?”
“I can’t stay here. You know that. I don’t want to be under your thumb, or on someone else’s schedule, or at someone’s beck and call. I like calling the shots. You should know that about me, Nick.”
Oh, he knew it all right. “By someone’s, you mean your daughters?” Her words prickled. Or maybe it was the disdain in her voice because being a mother would tie her down.
She squared her shoulders as if spoiling for a fight, but he didn’t want to fight. He wanted that peace and joy the reverend talked about earlier. “When are you leaving?”
“I’m going over to Sal’s to check out the used cars he’s got on the lot. Once I have wheels, I’m heading back to the coast. Real cities. Real people. Places where folks won’t look at me like I’m the odd one.”
“I need you to do one thing before you go.” When she huffed, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me bring the girls over to say good-bye. They’re at the playground; it will only take a few minutes. It would be real rough on them if you just disappear again.”
She hesitated, glanced around, then shrugged. “Sure. I’ll be right here.”
She wouldn’t; Nick was pretty sure of that. He looked at Trey.
Trey moved over to the driver’s side and climbed in. “I’ll be right back.” He pulled out, leaving Nick and Whitney standing there, and just like Nick had predicted, Johnny Baxter rolled into the driveway while Trey was gone. He looked at Whitney, then Nick, waiting.
Whitney moved his way.
“Give me ten minutes, okay? I’ve got to say good-bye to my girls.”
“Is there coffee inside?”
“Help yourself.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He smirked as he walked by Nick, as if coffee mattered.
In the whole scheme of things, Johnny Baxter grabbing a cup of coffee was no big deal. Nick saw Trey making the turn back onto West Chelan. He drew a breath.
He wasn’t sure how the girls would handle this, but no matter what happened, they had him and the whole Stafford family to offer love and support. They’d be just fine. He’d make sure of it.
“ How are them pups doin’, Miss Cheyenne?”
Nick strained his ears to hear Cheyenne’s reply on Thursday morning, but Trey rolled through with equipment just then. He heard nothing, so he walked that way. “They grow fast, don’t they?”
Cheyenne hung the clipboard on the nail he’d put in the stall post. “About an ounce a day, Dad. I think that’s good, right?”
“I expect it is,” said Hobbs. “Steady like, not too fast, not too slow.”
“Except this little one.” Cheyenne pointed out a distinctly smaller puppy. “She’s only gained three ounces in six days, and if I put her on the graph Elsa made, she’s not on the right line. Do you think there could be something wrong with her?”
Nick started to answer when Cheyenne grabbed his hand and his heart with her next words. “Elsa would know. Can you call her and see when she’s coming over? She’ll know what to do, Dad.”
What could he say? He dodged the question and felt like a first-class jerk for doing it. “We can get puppy supplement for that one, Chey. She’ll catch up.”
“I expect they’ve got some at the feed store in Cle Elum. I’ll check it out,” Hobbs assured her. “I was runnin’ that way in any case because I can still drive and run errands with a bum arm.”
“Can’t we just ask Elsa first?” Cheyenne wasn’t letting him off the hook easily, and the intensity of her gaze underscored that. “And isn’t she supposed to be here to work with me this week?”
Hobbs moved away, muttering something under his breath, unwilling to be part of whatever tale Nick was about to spin. He started to scrub his jaw when a pitiful moan came from farther back in the barn.
“BeeBee.” Cheyenne dropped his hand and dashed around the corner and down the center of the barn. “Oh, BeeBee, what’s going on?” The young Aussie had found her way into a back corner. She’d scratched loose straw into a nest and paced worriedly, poking her nose into the broken strands, pausing to pant now and again. “Hey, girl.” Nick leaned down and stroked the dog’s head. “How about we get you into your stall, okay?”
“Remember what Elsa said, Dad?” Cheyenne turned, concerned. “That we should let her pick her spot and move her after the first puppy is born because then she won’t care.”
Elsa had said exactly that, so Nick squatted low. “Then we’ll let her
get on with it here for the moment.”
Cheyenne worried her lower lip and gazed out the door. “We need Elsa, Dad.”
He knew that. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of how he needed Elsa since waking up Sunday morning to the reality that he’d let her walk away. He’d handled taking the girls to church and then to see Whitney. He’d juggled her good-byes and Cheyenne’s look of loss, but she didn’t fall apart when they watched Whitney drive away.
Her eyes had grown wet and a few tears found their way down her pale, soft cheeks, but when they got back to the ranch, she didn’t stomp off like she used to. Was that because Elsa’s wisdom had spurred strength in the young girl or because the reality of having Whitney in Gray’s Glen didn’t resemble Cheyenne’s happily-ever-after fantasy? Perhaps a combination of both.
Instead of having a hissy fit, she’d changed her clothes, gathered some things, and moved into the barn to keep an eye on the dogs and the pups. She hadn’t left the barn for more than a few minutes since, camping out with a sleeping bag and pillow alongside Kita’s whelping stall for four nights. He’d wanted to object, but he’d done the same thing himself when calves and foals were due, so how could he fault her for great animal empathy and instincts?
Call Elsa.
He couldn’t. If BeeBee seemed to be in trouble, he could run her to the veterinarian and get an expert opinion.
“Dad. Elsa would want to be here and she told me to call. Remember?”
He remembered, all right.
“Give me your phone. I’ll call her.”
She wasn’t going to let it go, another good characteristic of solid animal husbandry.
Nick took one look at the hard-working dog’s face, pulled out his phone, and hit Elsa’s code in his speed dial. When she answered, he waded right in. “Elsa, BeeBee’s in labor, and Cheyenne was hoping you could come.”
“I’m on my way.”
Click.
Just that, nothing more. She sounded crisp and businesslike, as if she got called to midwife dogs on a regular basis. When she hurried into the barn ten minutes later, his heart swelled, then ground to a stop.
Beautiful.
She strode into the barn, wearing a fitted dress with open-toed heels, looking fashion magazine lovely, but if she’d shown up in a classic tee and barn-friendly blue jeans, he’d have thought the same thing.
“You came!” Cheyenne flew to her. “I knew you’d come,” she told her as she hugged her tight around the middle. “I told Dad to call because you’d promised.”
“That’s right.” Elsa smiled right into his daughter’s eyes. “And I try to keep every promise I make. What’s going on?” She started to move toward the whimpering dog, but Nick stopped her.
“You’ve got good clothes on.” He hurried into the nearby office, pulled one of his long-sleeve T-shirts off the hooks, and came back just as quickly. “You don’t want to mess up that dress.”
“I don’t.” She slid into the tee as she followed Cheyenne. “I was at a job interview when you called.”
“A job interview?” That was about the last thing he’d expected her to say. “Doing what?”
“Exactly what I’m trained to do,” she replied, not looking back. She crouched down next to BeeBee, and Cheyenne did the same along the dog’s other side. “How long has she been laboring like this?”
“About twenty minutes since we found her.”
“And has she been straining like that?” Elsa indicated the dog’s futile efforts to deliver the first puppy.
“Yes. And she doesn’t look happy, Elsa.”
“You’ve got a good eye.” Elsa smiled at Cheyenne, then gently rolled BeeBee to her back. “Hey, there.” She crooned the words to the anxious dog and with gentle hands pushed one way, then the other.
“What could be wrong?”
“Well, she’s got a good-sized litter in there, and my guess is that puppy number one is either really big or badly positioned and lying across the opening to the birth canal. If he’s crosswise, it’s hard for him to slide out.”
“I’ve watched Daddy move calves around.” The proud look she shot him made Nick feel distinctly taller. “He knows how to reach in and change things up. But cows are a lot bigger than dogs.”
“Do we need a C-section?” Nick kept his voice soft, but if the dog needed help delivering, he’d pay the price gladly. “I can call Doc Wendel and take her right in.”
“Have we got everything set up for delivery here?”
Cheyenne pointed to the stall they’d selected the week before. “Everything’s there. I got it ready on Sunday, just in case.”
“Good girl.” Elsa’s approval lifted Cheyenne’s chin and put a distinct sparkle in her eyes. “Then let’s try one of my mother’s old tricks before we take her to the vet, okay? Can I have a collar and a leash?”
“Sure.”
Cheyenne put her trust in Elsa instantly. When Elsa looked his way, he could do no less. He hurried to the first barn door and took a fairly dusty collar and leash from the pegs mounted just inside.
Elsa rolled BeeBee back over and coaxed her to stand. Then she slipped the collar over her neck and attached a leash.
“Aussies aren’t leash dogs, generally.” Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s run free all her life. We keep those handy for trips to the vet.”
“Which is fine, but she’s probably a little indignant that I want her to walk right now, so the leash will act as a persuasion.” She started walking backward, coaxing the dog to follow. Cheyenne did the same thing, mimicking Elsa’s movements. BeeBee moved forward, slow at first, and when the dog aimed a sorry look at the straw bed, Nick almost caved.
He didn’t, though, because Cheyenne was placing her trust in Elsa, and that was too important for an impatient, interfering father to interrupt.
Elsa quickened her pace to a slow jog, and when she reached the barn entrance, she pivoted and increased her speed.
So did Cheyenne and so did BeeBee.
Elsa circled the wide drive, encouraging the dog, and when they’d gotten halfway around, BeeBee lurched free.
The leash slipped from Elsa’s hands, and the dog whirled about, hurried straight back to her nest, and delivered a big, wet puppy onto the floor.
Elsa and Cheyenne followed her in and gave each other enthusiastic but quiet high-fives.
“You did it!” Cheyenne looped her arms around Elsa again. “How did you know?”
“Well, we had this happen a time or two on our place. Our ranch wasn’t big, we didn’t have a ton of money, and it would have cost my parents over fifteen hundred dollars to have a litter of pups delivered by C-section. When a dog runs, it stretches its body from front to back, and that can help the first puppy slide into place. And once that happens, well”—she put an arm around Cheyenne and they smiled together —“you see the results.”
Nick moved closer to her side. “That’s a pretty neat trick.”
She didn’t look up.
He wanted her to, but she didn’t. And when puppy number one was cleaned up and nursing, they moved BeeBee and her newborn over to the prepared stall, midbarn. “You sure this won’t bother her?”
“It shouldn’t. She’s occupied now, and she’s about to deliver the next pup, so she won’t even know we moved her as long as her babies are nearby.”
“You know so much, Elsa.” Admiration filled Cheyenne’s eyes. “I can’t believe how good you are at all this.”
“Years of practice.”
The second pup presented right then. Nick brought them hay bales to sit on, and when puppy number three was born, Elsa let Cheyenne take over completely with the weighing, checking the umbilicus, then charting the numbers and identifying marks. “Well done, farm girl.”
Cheyenne folded her arms over her chest as she watched BeeBee happily greet the newest member of the Double S Ranch. “I love this.” She whispered the words with a happy sigh as if her mother’s departure hadn’t knocked her world completely ou
t of whack a few days before. “It’s like what I was meant to do, Elsa.”
“I know.”
What she was meant to do…
Nick received another mental kick in the head. He’d fought his daughter’s urges, trying to reshape destiny. It was a foolish mistake, one he didn’t intend to make again.
“Elsa.” Angelina strode into the barn, hugged Elsa and then Cheyenne. “Ooh…” She bent and crooned to the new lives before her. “So very precious. And I expect you’ll be on midwife duty for a bit, so how about if I send lunch out here to you? Or you can wait until the pups are all delivered, but that might be a few hours.”
“We might get a lull midway,” Elsa told her. “She’s been laboring for a while, so if she dozes off, we could break for lunch then. But a coffee now sure sounds good, Angelina.”
“How about you, Chey?”
“A coffee, like Elsa?” She perked up at Angelina and shot her father a quick look of question.
“I’ll go light on the coffee and heavy on the milk,” Ange promised. “They’re beautiful puppies, guys.”
“I know.” Cheyenne grinned with pure delight, a reaction Nick hadn’t seen in a long time. “I can’t believe it.”
He should get to work. There was plenty to do, but Trey was baling hay with Brock in the upper field. Colt, Murt, and a couple of other hands were shifting pastures for the heifers carrying seed calves, and the lure of new life held him here. Or maybe it was the joy on his daughter’s face as she followed Elsa’s quiet directions. Or perhaps it was Elsa herself.
Just before one, he texted Angelina that BeeBee had fallen asleep. Isabo brought lunch to the office, and when Cheyenne rushed off to the house, it left him alone with Elsa. Only a fool would waste those moments. He had things he needed to say and the chance to say them. He moved closer and sat down by her side.
“I want to thank you for coming.”
She stayed intent on Isabo’s yellow rice. “Of course I came; I promised her. Thanks for calling.”
“How did the interview go?”
She shook her head.
Home on the Range Page 27