Ooh Baby, Baby

by Diana K. Whitney

  Just as Travis reached the taxi, a man stepped out of the drugstore doorway, strode toward the curb and raised his palm. “Hey, cabbie.”

  Travis glanced over the cab roof. “Sorry, out of service.”

  The man’s gaze narrowed, his thin shoulder twitching beneath a faded gray T-shirt that had seen better days. His eyes jittered toward the street, focusing on a beige four-by-four that cruised past. “Gotta get to Sixth and Magnolia, man. My mom’s waiting for this medicine.” He held up a brown paper bag. “She’s real sick, you know?”

  Travis hesitated, then shrugged. One last fare wouldn’t kill him. “Okay, hop in.” He slid into the driver’s seat, popped the door locks and watched in the rearview mirror as the fare climbed inside.

  The fellow settled in, met Travis’s gaze in the mirror and smiled. “Thanks, man.”

  “No problem.” Travis flipped the ignition, turned on the meter and pulled away from the curb. “Sixth and Magnolia, right?”

  “Yeah.” The customer perched forward, staring intently out the windshield as Travis drove about a quarter mile down the road. As they approached an intersection, he spoke suddenly. “Turn left at the light.”

  “Hmm?” Travis frowned as he glanced in the mirror. “That’s the long way, mister. We’ll get there faster by using Sixth.”

  “The street’s all torn up,” the man told him. “Still making storm repairs.”

  “I was up that way a few days ago. There wasn’t any construction work going on.”

  “Just started yesterday.” The guy sat ramrod straight, watching anxiously as Travis made the left turn and accelerated down the narrow, curving street that led to the outskirts of town and beyond.

  Travis hadn’t been out this way very often, but if memory served, there was a cutoff a ways up that led over to Magnolia. He didn’t know exactly where the road intersected the street they were on, but wasn’t too worried about it. The fellow in the back seat clearly knew where he wanted to go and how to get there, so Travis just cruised along until the scenery of scattered structures evolved into a lush wall of forest.

  Up ahead, a familiar dirt road veered to the right. Behind him, the paper bag crinkled.

  “Pull over.”

  Travis touched a cautious toe to the brake. “This is Virginia Road, mister. It doesn’t go anywhere near—”

  “I said, pull over.” The passenger leapt forward, growling low in his throat. “Now!”

  A wisp of air brushed his ear. Travis knew without looking that there was a gun pointed at his head.

  Chapter Ten

  Travis Stockwell jammed the brake, jerked the wheel. There was a deafening blast. A barb of fire scuffed his brow. Glass shattered. His ears roared. The acrid stench of gunpowder stung his nostrils, burned his lungs.

  Vaguely aware that the robber had been thrown against the right passenger door, Travis whipped the steering wheel left, sending the cab into an uncontrolled spin. He saw the ditch, saw the massive oak looming straight ahead.

  Then he saw nothing.

  * * *

  “Sh, little man, Mommy’s here.” Bleary-eyed and exhausted, Peggy Saxon scooped the howling infant out of his crib, nestling him against her shoulder. “Goodness, we certainly have developed our lungs, haven’t we?”

  T.J. sniffed, blinked, gave a shuddering hiccup, then screwed up his face and belted out his displeasure.

  Swallowing panic, Peggy continued to murmur softly and pat the sobbing infant’s back. He’d been awake half the night, crying inconsolably, only partially relieved by her feeble attempts to comfort him.

  Over the past two months there had been many such nights with her newborn twins; this one had been the worst. Or at least, it seemed worse to Peggy, who felt the final vestiges of strength seeping out through the base of her throbbing skull. And she thought giving birth in Travis’s cab was hard!

  Forcing her wobbly legs into motion, she carried T.J. to a creaky wooden rocker by the nursery window. The smooth motion usually soothed the cranky babies, providing the added benefit of calming their harried mom, as well. Thankfully, this morning was no exception. After a few moments, T.J.’s head grew heavy against her shoulder, and his shuddering sobs dissipated.

  Limp with relief, Peggy laid her cheek against his soft scalp and closed her eyes.

  The doorbell awakened her. Disoriented and half-asleep, Peggy sat up with a start, clutching T.J. so tightly that she nearly wakened him, too. The bell rang again, followed by an insistent pounding on the front door. She rose shakily, laid her sleepy son in his crib, then hurried to answer the door.

  “Oh, God.” She tottered backward, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Oh, good Lord, Travis, you’re hurt.”

  Travis entered without ceremony but didn’t remove his hat as was his usual custom. “It’s nothing. Can I borrow your phone? My cell died” The question was purely perfunctory, since he was already limping toward it.

  Peggy gathered her wits long enough to close the front door. “What happened?”

  “Some jerk tried to rob me,” he muttered, snatching up the receiver. “I wrapped the cab around a tree. My phone broke on impact. When I came to, the thieving jackass was gone, and the two-way radio was smashed into rubble. There’s blood in the back seat, though, so I figure he’s not feeling much better than I am.”

  Peggy steadied herself on the sofa, licked her lips. “Your head is bleeding.”

  That seemed to startle him, but not much. He touched the oozing wound over his brow, flinched slightly, then shrugged. “The bullet must have grazed me.”

  “The bullet?” Peggy’s legs gave out. She sat heavily, clutching her throat, fighting for breath. “Oh, God, you could have been killed.”

  “If I ever get my hands on that sniveling two-bit coward, he’ll wish to hell I had been.” Travis dialed, rubbed his temple, then straightened and got right to the point. “Yeah, Sue Anne, unit six is smashed in a ditch at the corner of Virginia and Pine. I’m at Peggy’s. The cab needs a tow. I need a cop.”

  Turning away, he lowered his voice, presumably to keep Peggy from hearing the gruesome details of the harrowing incident he relayed to his sister. Still, Peggy wobbled forward, wringing her hands and honing in on every terrifying word.

  Her fingers were numb. Her heart raced. The metallic taste of fear flooded her mouth. The thought of what could have happened to Travis was frightening enough, but the grim expression in his eyes horrified her. The softness was gone, replaced by a hard-edged fury that chilled her to the marrow.

  He hung up, flexing his fingers over the phone as he swung a glance toward the hallway. “Twins okay?”

  “They’re fine,” she whispered, pushing herself to her feet. She reached out to him. “Let me tend to that—”

  He turned away and pulled his hat down to conceal the injury. “No need.”

  “But the wound should be cleaned.”

  “It’s just a scratch, woman. Quit harping.” Before the words were out of his mouth, regret was pouring into his eyes. He covered his face with his palms and heaved a shuddering sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault I’m such a damned fool.”

  “You’re not to blame for what happened, Travis.”

  His eyes flashed. “You think Jimmy would’ve been caught flat-footed like that? Or even Ted?” He issued a disgusted snort. “Hell, either one of ’em would’ve taken one look at that stupid paper bag and smelled a gun. But not me, and you know why?”

  “Travis—”

  “Because I’d rather clean septic tanks than drive a damned cab. I hate it. Sometimes I even hate my sister for going into the business, for guilt-tripping me into working for her even though she knew I’d figure a way to screw up. I always do. But you didn’t know that, did you? You didn’t know that everything I touch turns to dirt, that the dumbest beast on the circuit has more common sense.”

  “That’s not true, Travis. You’re a highly intelligent man. You had a college scholarship, for goodness’ sake.”

  �
�But I didn’t use it.” His face contorted, not in anger but in pain and a frustration so explosive that Peggy could actually feel the emanating vibration. “I was too danged stupid to think about the future, to think about what I’d do when I was too old, too crippled to sit a horse. There’s a powerful difference between having brains and being smart enough to use them.”

  “Why are you doing this, Travis? Why are you putting yourself down?”

  His shoulders shuddered, sagged forward. “You need to know who I am.”

  “I know who you are, Travis Stockwell. You’re the kindest, most decent man I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m a failure.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Believe it.” His eyes hardened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. “I was such a disappointment to my daddy that he up and drank himself to death. There’s nothing on earth I’m good at, except spending eight seconds on the back of an animal even madder and dumber than me.”

  “Don’t say that. The rodeo was good to you, yes, but just because you can’t ride anymore doesn’t mean there aren’t other things you’re just as good at. You’re an intelligent man. You just haven’t given yourself a chance—”

  “What makes you think I can’t ride anymore?”

  “Sue Anne told me about your injuries. I just assumed—” She bit off the words as he slowly shook his head.

  “Just a few broken ribs, bruised innards. Doc cleared me to hit the circuit weeks ago.” He issued a derisive grunt. “It may not be much to brag on, but I’ve got a few good years before I’m ready for the bone yard.”

  Peggy licked her lips, absently rubbing her head. “I don’t understand. I thought you were happy in Grand Springs. I thought you cared about Sue Anne and Jimmy, cared about their company.”

  “I do.” Travis shifted, jammed a fist on his hip. He rolled his head, massaged the back of his neck and stared at the ceiling as if seeking a divine message. Finally he sighed and met her gaze. “Driving a cab isn’t for me, Peggy. Never has been. I only do it now and again to help out, pull in some extra fares during the off-season, or when I’m on the mend.”

  “I see.” Icy fingers of comprehension squeezed the base of her spine. “So this has all been just a temporary respite.”

  It took a moment for him to answer. “Rodeo is what I do, Peggy. It’s the only thing I can do.” He glanced away. “At least for a while, until I get enough money put by to make something out of myself.”

  If Peggy hadn’t been so shaken, she might have recognized the wistful plea in his eyes and responded to it. But she didn’t see, didn’t respond, was too shattered by the realization that Travis had never really given up rodeo, never would. He was a man for whom the whisper of the road was more powerful than any woman. Travis Stockwell was a wanderer, an adventurer, just like her father. Just like Clyde.

  To Travis, her silence spoke volumes. He pivoted on his heel and strode toward the front door.

  Peggy snapped out of her mental fog long enough to snag his arm as he passed. “Wait.”

  His jaw twitched, then slackened. He met her gaze, held it deeply. Lifting his hand, he tenderly brushed a curl from her face, then stroked his thumb over her cheek. “You look tired, honey. Go back to bed. Get some rest.”

  “Please don’t leave.”

  His eyes reddened, grew moist. “I have to.”

  Before Peggy could stop him, he yanked the front door open just as a police cruiser pulled up at the curb. Travis stepped over the threshold, hesitated, then swung around, pulled her into his arms and kissed her so sweetly that her heart nearly stopped.

  She stumbled when he released her, and she had to grab the doorjamb for support. When the squad car drove off with Travis inside, Peggy had the horrible sensation that she might never see him again.

  * * *

  “He’s okay, hon. Shook him up a bit. Bruised that big ol’ cowboy ego of his, but my brother’s taken worse falls. He always dusts himself off and climbs back in the saddle.”

  Peggy shifted the phone, trying to take Sue Anne’s encouragement to heart, but there was a tight edge to the woman’s voice that played right into Peggy’s worst fears. “But Travis looked so, I don’t know, so distraught. I’ve never seen him like that. He kept talking about being a failure, and how he’d let everybody down. He even said something about being responsible for his father’s death.”

  “He said that?”

  “Yes. He thinks his father drank so much because he was disappointed in him.”

  Silence hung heavily on the line. When Sue Anne finally spoke, her voice shook with anger. “Even dead, the rotten louse is still ruining his son’s life.”

  Peggy was shocked by the venom in her voice. “How can you say that? He was your father.”

  “He was a sperm donor,” Sue Anne spit back. “Being a father takes a danged sight more than that. Silas Stockwell didn’t care a lick about anyone except himself. Travis tried the best he could to take care of that man. Set to mowing lawns when he was barely seven, moved up to paper routes, stocking grocery shelves, whatever work a kid could find. All he got for his trouble was a pack of misery from a drunken lout who swiped every penny Travis earned, then gave him the back of his hand because it was never enough. Even lying on his deathbed with Travis tending his every need, there was never a thank-you, never a kind word for his own son. Silas flat sucked the life out of that poor boy. Made him feel worthless.”

  Peggy’s fingers cramped around the telephone. Tears stung her eyes, slid down her cheeks. She couldn’t imagine a father inflicting such cruelty; she couldn’t imagine a son surviving it. Yet Travis had survived. He’d grown into a caring man, with a gentle heart and a strong, nurturing soul.

  “Travis has gone beyond that,” she said, struggling with a voice that threatened to crack. “He cares about people. A man can’t care about others without caring about himself, too.”

  Sue Anne sighed. Peggy could picture her leaning back in the dispatch chair, raking her fingers through that poorly cut bob and pursing her lips in frustration. “Travis has always had a big heart, but the scars run deep. My brother’s a smart man, but even smart men can be kind of dumb when it comes to the stuff that really scares them.”

  “What is it that scares Travis?”

  “Letting people down,” Sue Anne said quietly. “Especially people he loves. He can’t keep himself from caring about folks because he’s just naturally softhearted and such, but he works real hard at not caring too much. That way, he won’t get hurt so bad when it’s over.”

  Peggy’s stomach twisted. “So what Travis and I had—our friendship—it’s over?”

  “My brother is confused,” Sue Anne said kindly. “Deep down, he knows what he wants. I think he’s just afraid to go after it for fear things won’t, you know, work out. Give him some space, hon. Maybe he’ll come around this time.”

  A nauseous surge had Peggy clutching her stomach. She struggled with it, fought it off. “What do you mean, ‘this time?’”

  A sharp rustle filtered over the line, as if Sue Anne was restlessly shifting papers across the dispatch desk. “Travis has roped in his heart a time or two.”

  “His heart?” Peggy licked her lips, felt faint. “I think you’ve misunderstood my concern. Travis and I are…well, friends.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t need a man in my life.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  “And even if I wanted a man, which I most certainly do not, why on earth would I choose one whose boots twitched every time he saw a road map?”

  “I don’t guess you would, assuming you had a choice.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Sue Anne’s shrug was practically audible. “When it comes to love, we don’t always have a say in the matter.”

  Peggy jolted upright, felt the hairs on her nape rise. “I didn’t say anything about love.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Sue Anne replied sadly. “It’s
as plain as the nose on your face, and on my brother’s too, I’m afraid.”

  Closing her eyes, Peggy swallowed hard and fought a new surge of tears. Sue Anne believed that Travis was in love with her, but the realization brought no joy. Instead, it brought paralyzing fear. For the first time, Peggy felt as if she truly understood Travis, and she knew that to understand him was to lose him forever.

  She moistened her lips, tried to speak, then tried again. “Sue Anne?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You don’t think Travis will come back, do you.”

  Silence stretched like death. “No, hon,” Sue Anne said finally. “I don’t figure he will.”

  * * *

  Red dust billowed beneath pounding hooves. Lassos hummed, swirling a swath through thick, humid air. Windblown grit scuffed his face, clawed his eyes. Travis squinted through the crimson cloud, focused only on his stampeding target and the steady drone of the whirling loop above his head.

  The rider beside him stood in the stirrups, flashed forward, then hauled his speeding mount up short. A rope loop sailed out, settled over the steer’s horns. Travis dropped his lasso to the side, flicked it at the animal’s heels, simultaneously jerked the reins and yanked up the lasso. The steer, with Cassidy Sloane’s rope still tangled around its horns, kicked away from Travis’s sloppy throw and spun to face its harassers.

  Cassidy swore, touched his heels to his horse’s flank. The animal responded instantly, jiggling sideways as the steer lowered its head to charge.

  Spurring his own mount back into position, Travis hauled in his empty rope, thumbed open the loop and flicked a hurried toss that snagged only one of the young steer’s heels. He clicked his tongue and lifted the reins. His horse executed a smart pivot and backed up until the trussed steer was stretched out on the ground, safely immobilized and ready for branding.

  Theoretically, that is, since the animal in question was already marked with Cassidy Sloane’s Lazy S. This had been a practice run, one of many that Travis had insisted upon over the past hour. As badly as this run had ended, it had been better than most. At least this time he’d roped one of the danged steer’s legs. A disqualification, of course, but not complete humiliation.