by Home Fires
“I’d like to come,” Casie said, turning toward them, eyes earnest. “If you don’t—” she began, but Nurse Chelsea jerked suddenly, setting the wheelchair slightly atremble.
“You’ll have to leave,” she said.
The three of them shifted their eyes to her in surprise. The smile, cool as it was, had left her face and was now replaced by brittle condemnation.
“Leave?” Colt said.
“What are you talking about?” Casie asked.
“Our rules are very clear,” she said and dropped her gaze to Casie’s hips. Hedley’s hand-tooled gun belt remained firmly fastened around her waist. “There are absolutely no firearms allowed in this facility.”
The noise that left Casie’s lips might have been amusing under different circumstances. “I didn’t … I don’t …” she began and dropped her hand to the butt of a pistol.
“Security!” snapped the nurse.
“No!” Casie said, lifting one hand in a futile attempt to wipe away any misunderstanding. “I just—”
“Maybe you’d better wait outside,” Colt suggested. “I’ll take care of Em.”
“She’s not your responsibility,” Casie said, then snapped her gaze back to the hospital’s temporarily immobilized staff. “Besides, the guns aren’t even loaded.” She smiled at the nurse and slipped the gun belt from her hips. “Probably.” It was then that one of the pistols clattered to the tiles. The noise was loud enough to wake the dead … or at least the nearby patients. An octogenarian jumped, eyes wide above her oxygen mask. An elderly gentleman gasped, almost teetering off his walker. Nearby, a little boy grinned from ear to ear as he tried to tug free of his mother’s grasp.
Colt swore under his breath.
“Where’s security?” snapped the nurse, but just then a potbellied man in an overtaxed uniform rushed around the corner toward them.
Casie scooped the gun off the floor, shot Emily a look heavy with apology and angst, and slunk toward the front door.
“Well, I think we can assume we made an impression,” Colt said. Casie could just hear his voice as he and Emily approached the pickup truck where she waited.
“Maybe I should be a doc,” Emily said.
“Well, you’d be cute as hell at it. Let me hear you say, ‘Take two aspirin and quit riding broncs, you moron.’ ”
Emily laughed. Casie watched them in the side-view mirror, two beautiful people sharing an easy camaraderie. The wheelchair had been left behind. Emily was, quite obviously, ambulatory. Colt was, of course, charming. She had never resented him more.
“Hey, Deadeye,” he said, glancing through the open passenger window at her. “You okay?”
“Sure.” She didn’t look at him, but kept her gaze on Emily. “How about you? Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Sorry,” she said and didn’t make eye contact as Casie stepped out of the truck to give the girl the middle seat. “False alarm, I guess.”
“So the contractions stopped?”
Some unknown expression crossed Emily’s gamine features. It almost looked like guilt. Which was unexpected since, four months earlier, Casie would have sworn the girl didn’t know the meaning of the word. “Yeah, stopped almost as soon as I got in there. Weird, huh?”
“The doctor says that happens sometimes,” Colt said and handed Emily a plastic bag filled with who knows what. “The mom gets stressed out and then the labor stops.” Casie stared at Emily from the paved parking lot as Colt rounded the bumper to approach the driver’s side.
“Do you think that’s what happened?” Casie said the words softly, for Emily’s ears alone.
The girl didn’t so much as glance at her as she hoisted herself laboriously onto the seat. “Must have.”
“So you really were having contractions?”
“What?” Colt asked the question even before he had fully opened the driver’s door. Stupid cowboy had ears like a basset hound. He shifted his gaze to Casie. “It was a false labor. Happens all the time. Get in, Head Case. Em needs to get home to rest.”
Emily shifted her gaze to the windshield as Casie climbed into the cab. Colt fired up the truck. The diesel engine rumbled like thunder, but little else was heard on the twenty-minute drive to the Lazy.
Once home, Ty Roberts appeared beside the passenger door before Casie had even touched the handle. Outside, it was almost fully dark. Just a few magenta layers lighted the western sky. The vendors were gone, leaving little more than flattened grass and a few scraps of detritus across the scalloped hills.
“What’s going on?” The boy spoke as soon as Casie pushed open the passenger door. Beside him, Jack, border collie and resident security, turned circles in excited anticipation.
“False alarm,” Colt said and stepped out of the cab. “Holy Moses, boy, you must have grown a foot since I last seen you.” In fact, his height now exceeded Colt’s by half a hand. Casie had no idea why that truth made her feel better. “Doesn’t look like you’re going to make a bronc rider after all.”
“Bronc rider!” Casie scoffed, then wished she hadn’t opened her mouth.
Ty shifted his worried gaze to her, then on to Emily. “Everything okay?”
Colt rounded the bumper. “Casie’s just mad that hospitals have that silly rule about not allowing target practice in their facilities.”
Ty’s brow wrinkled.
“You could have warned me,” Casie said and stepped out of the truck.
Colt laughed. “And spoil the fun?”
“What are they talking about?” Ty asked, directing his attention to Emily, who slid carefully off the seat and shook her head as if trying to disavow the entire episode. Casie wondered with vague mortification if she had embarrassed the girl. Generally, Em had the toughened attitude of a veteran warhorse, but she was bound to feel vulnerable in her current condition. Wasn’t she? Uncertainty stole through Casie like a cat on the prowl. After all, it wasn’t as if she had ever experienced the pangs of pregnancy, emotional or physical. And in all honesty that was probably for the best; she was barely up to nurturing newborn calves. God help her if she ever had a child, she thought, and let her misty gaze settle for just a moment on Em’s rounded belly.
“Was there any trouble with the vendors?” Emily, true to her entrepreneurial nature, was glancing with concern around the all-but-empty property.
“Not that I know of,” Ty said and shuffled back a half pace, making room for her bulk. “Everybody seemed pretty happy. But hey, some guy from Lead was interested in your rhubapple jam. Said he thought it could go mainstream. Whatever that means.”
“Yeah?”
“Said it was rhubalicious.”
“Seriously?” Emily made a face that suggested both delight and the burning need to mock. “He said that?”
Ty grinned, just the slightest twitch of his lips. He did that more these days, though he would probably never match Colt’s irritating jocularity. “He left his card.”
“Where is it?” Em’s voice was breathy with excitement. She was ever determined to find a way to increase the ranch’s profitability.
“I put it on the table … or on the counter or …” He paused. “Maybe I better come in and find it,” he said. “Things got a little hectic at the end.”
“Here …” Emily handed him the plastic bag. “Carry this, will you?” she asked and shifted the sack into his possession before they headed toward the house together. Watching them walk away was almost painfully poignant. They looked ridiculously pretty, hopelessly vulnerable.
“Cute, huh?” Colt said.
Casie swallowed the tears building up in her throat, pursed her lips into a solid line, and changed the subject with careful single-mindedness. “What did the doctor say?”
Colt shrugged, still watching the pair disappear into the darkness. “She’s doing fine. He’s a little concerned about her blood glucose, but gestational diabetes is a common occurrence, I guess.”
She nodded, as if she had known that little factoid since infa
ncy, and glanced back toward the shadows just ascending the porch steps.
“You might want to cut back on her duties a little, though.” His words were soft, as if his mind was elsewhere.
Casie snapped her attention back toward him. “What?”
He shrugged. “She looks kind of tired.”
She felt her back go up, and though she knew better, opened her mouth immediately. “You think I’m standing over her with a whip or something?”
“Whip? Naw.” He grinned, pulled open the passenger door, and yanked the gun belt out from under the seat where she had stowed it. “I’m thinking these would be more effective.”
A half-dozen razor-sharp rejoinders came to mind, but she kept them at bay and grabbed the tooled leather.
He pulled it closer to his chest, effectively tilting her off balance. They were inches apart. His grin disappeared. She blinked. He cleared his throat. Seconds ticked into the gathering darkness. “He’s not for you, Case,” he said.
She forced herself to breathe and felt her brows rise toward her hairline. “What?”
“Hedley,” he said. “I know he’s got a dreamy smile and the cutest little butt ever.” He said the words in a breathy falsetto, then inhaled as if he was trying to control his temper, which was simply weird because, as far as Casie knew, he didn’t even have a temper. Still, his dark eyes snapped. “You don’t want to get involved with him.”
“Well, that’s great because I’m not involved with him.”
“Really?” He tilted his head at her. “Cuz if you two get any cuddlier, you’re going to be in the same fix as Emily.”
She felt her jaw drop, heard herself snort. “And this from the man who knows more about women in labor than an obstetrician.”
He narrowed his eyes a little. Flexed his jaw. “I’m just trying to help,” he said.
“Help?” She stepped back a pace. “Is that what you call it when you disappear for months at a time? When you—” She stopped short, since it was apparent that she was losing her mind. After all, she had told him to leave … had insisted, in fact, that he return to the rodeo circuit. She could manage things on her own. She didn’t need a man in her life. After her ex-fiance’s departure, she was thrilled to be on her own, she’d said. But it was clear now that she hadn’t really expected him to believe her, and the truth of her own disjointed illogic made her temper rise like a springtime flood. “How do you know so much about childbirth anyway?”
He tilted his head at her as if she’d lost her last marble. “Geez, Head Case, is that what’s bothering you?”
“Where did you even hear the word effacing?”
“Everyone knows that stuff,” he said.
“I don’t.” Her voice sounded a little pissier than she’d intended and seemed to raise his ire.
“Well, you keep seeing Hedley and you’d better be a quick study.”
She shook her head. “What is it with you and Brooks?”
“Brooks …” He said the name with an odd accent, then drew a deep breath, slowed down. “… is a jackass.”
“Well, then you two have a lot in—”
“Hey,” Sophie said. Casie jumped, nearly dropping a pistol as she found the girl in the darkness. “What’s up?” Sophie Jaegar had arrived at the Lazy six months ago as a guest. It was hard to say exactly what her role was now.
“Casie is going to become a sharpshooter.” Colt’s voice sounded atypically bad tempered.
“What?” Even in the near darkness of the front yard, Sophie Jaegar was beautiful. Despite a hectic day of giving tours and riding demonstrations, every hair was in place, every fingernail immaculate. Casie had no idea how she did it. Perhaps it had something to do with breeding, or money. Both of which the girl had in spades. Functional family—that’s what she lacked. Hence her original arrival at the Lazy. Her subsequent stay there was a little more complicated.
Colt shrugged. Casie could feel him trying to unwind. Odd. She’d never even known he could wind. She felt an evil little tug of satisfaction at the advent of that knowledge. Served him right to get all cranked up after the years he had tormented her in high school.
“How you doing, Soph?” he asked.
The girl glanced at him. While Emily had adored Colt from the day they first met, Sophie was more reserved, about everything. Casie had never appreciated that fact more than she did right now. “You’re skinnier,” she said.
He grinned, seeming amused by his lack of ability to charm her. “Shortage of home cooking on the road. How’s that colt coming along?”
She shrugged, but even in the uncertain light, her enthusiasm was obvious. Damn him and his honest interest in other people. “I’m ground driving him now.”
“Yeah?”
“I bet he’s grown a full hand since you saw him last.”
“You must have him and Ty on the same diet then.”
Sophie pursed her lips at the mention of the boy she had crossed swords with since day one. “I thought he cared about that old mare of his.”
“What?”
“Angel,” she said, referring to the emaciated gray Casie had bought at auction less than a year before. As it turned out, Ty had arrived along with her as an unforeseen bonus. “I thought she was going to keel over right in the cattle pens. He rides her too hard.”
“She loves to work cattle,” Casie said, reluctant to jump into the conversation but no longer able to resist. “She probably just got keyed up.”
“Roberts was the one getting excited,” Sophie said.
They stared at her in tandem. She glanced from one to the other, scowling heavily. “He’d do anything to be the center of attention.”
Colt raised his brows.
Casie tilted her head in dubious uncertainty. If Ty Roberts said fifteen words a day, he was ten words over his limit. Maybe that was because of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his parents, or maybe he was being ultracareful not to cause any problems that might run him afoul of the law. In the past, he had been in some trouble at school. But since Casie had met him, he’d walked the line as carefully as a tightrope artist. “Ty?” she said.
“I mean …” Sophie’s scowl darkened even further. “I know he’s not too bright, but I thought he knew better than to overwork a horse that has splints.”
Casie stared at her. The splints on Angel’s forelegs had calcified years ago and were unlikely to bother her. Sophie knew that if anyone did. But Casie didn’t bother to mention it. “Is she okay?” she asked instead.
“It would serve him right if she wasn’t.” Sophie’s shoulders drooped a little.
“Take it easy on him,” Casie said. She kept her tone low. She and Sophie had argued over Ty on more than one occasion, but she didn’t really need Colt to know of their battles. “He’s found something he excels at, something the mare loves. I think it’s good for both of them.”
“You would take his side.” Despite Sophie’s frequent acts of maturity, she still had painful teenage outbursts.
“I’m not taking sides,” Casie said. “I’m just saying—”
“And I’m just going to bed,” Sophie said, but she felt the need to add more … maybe as a sort of surly apology for being sixteen. “I fed the yearlings. The stalls are cleaned and bedded. Lark has a little thrush in her left front frog. I painted it with iodine.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded, tight lipped, and turned toward the house.
Casie exhaled evenly. The night went quiet as the girl’s footsteps faded into the darkness.
“Kinda cute how you have the fun of raising teenagers when you don’t know anything about giving birth,” Colt said.
Casie’s temper exploded like a time bomb. She pivoted toward him, fists clenched, teeth bared. “Emily was lying.”
“What?” His quizzical expression might have been comical if it wasn’t for the guilt that detonated in Casie’s gut immediately after she dropped the bomb.
“Nothing.” She inhaled, steadied herse
lf, and backed away a step. “It’s nothing. Well … maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” she said and turned away, but he caught her arm.
“What do you mean, nothing?” He searched her eyes. His were as dark as midnight. “You don’t think Em lied about being in labor, do you?”
She pursed her lips. She appreciated the fact that Colt thought so highly of the little mother-to-be. Really, she did. The girl needed a man in her life who wouldn’t ignore her or seduce her, and Colt had managed that much. So far at least, she thought cattily.
“I’m going to go check on the horses,” she said and tugged at her arm, but he held on.
“You think maybe she’s faking the pregnancy, too, Case? Cuz I’ve gotta tell you, it looks pretty real to me.”
“Well …” She gave him her best fake smile. “You’re the expert.”
He scowled at her, shook his head once. “You don’t need to be jealous,” he said.
“Jealous!” She sputtered something inarticulate. “Are you nuts?”
“Could be.” He tilted his head. That old mischievous light shone in his eyes again. “Are you jealous?”
“No!”
“Really?” His grin peeked out. She wanted to slap it off his face. Or something. “Cuz it kinda looks like you might be.”
She huffed a laugh. “Listen, if you want to fawn all over a girl who’s half your age, I think that’s great. God knows she’s been neglected most of her life, but—” She stopped, realized his brows had shot toward his Stetson like stray bullets, and wished she could disappear into the earth beneath her feet.
The night went silent. Somewhere far off a cow bellowed. Beyond that a coyote yipped and was answered.
“I meant, you shouldn’t be jealous that she’s pregnant,” he said.
“I …” She swallowed, mind spinning. “I know what you meant.”
“She’s not really half our age,” he said. Silence settled in again. “You’re not too old to have kids.”
She felt herself stiffen. “I’m so relieved that you think so.”
“Are you?” he asked and moved a fraction of a step closer.
“No!” she said and yanked her arm out of his grip. “I’m just curious how you know so much about the whole thing.”