Best of Cowboys Bundle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Barbara White Daille, Judy Christenberry, Christine Wenger, Shirley Rogers, Crystal Green, Nina Bruhns, Candance Schuler, Carole Mortimer

  “Don’t grab the spoon, Betsy,” Debra ordered as she fed the little girl. Betsy was growing so quickly, and learning new things every day.

  The buzzer went off on the oven. Debra jumped up from her seat to get the hot biscuits. Suddenly the world turned upside down and she fell to the floor, silent.

  John leaped from his chair but Bill was beside Debra while he was on the other side of the table. He may have gotten to her second, but he took charge as he gathered her up from Bill. “Bill, call Doc and see if he’ll come out. Jess, you take care of Betsy. Mikey, you’ve got Andy, and Darrell, you get the biscuits out of the oven.”

  Then he hurried down the hall to his bedroom. He laid her gently on his bed. He rushed into the bathroom to wet a cloth. As he came back to the bed, her eyelids fluttered and she tried to sit up.

  “Lie back down,” he ordered at once.

  “Wh-what am I doing in here?”

  She’d actually followed his orders. That pleased him. “You passed out when you jumped up to get the biscuits out of the oven.”

  She pushed herself up again.

  “No way. Lie back down. Darrell got the biscuits out.”

  “But Betsy—”

  “Jess is taking care of her.”

  “Andy—”

  “Mikey.”

  “But there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “I think there is, and Bill is calling the doctor to come see. Until he gets here, you don’t leave this bed.”

  “But it’s not my bed!”

  Damn. He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice.

  “I didn’t want to try carrying you upstairs with my leg.”

  “I’ll go sit on the sofa and wait for the doctor.” She paused before she asked, “Will he really make a house call? I mean, I don’t want him to go to any trouble. I may have a touch of the flu, but I don’t need a doctor for that.”

  Again, she started to get up. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Honey, you have to stay down until Tom figures out what’s wrong.” He remembered that she only did things for others, not herself. “What if you’d passed out carrying Betsy?”

  Her immediate in-drawn breath told him she recognized the problem. She didn’t rise up again. “Can—can Andy come in and see me? I know he’s worried.”

  “Sure. If you promise not to move, I’ll go get him.”

  After she nodded, he hurried back to the kitchen. “Andy, your mom is awake. She thought you might want to come see her so you wouldn’t worry.”

  “Yes, please,” Andy said.

  John was amazed he still minded his manners. Reaching for the little boy’s hand, he led him down the hall.

  “But Mommy’s room is upstairs,” Andy pointed out.

  “Yes, but don’t mention that. It would make Mommy feel bad because she’s borrowing my bed.”

  “Oh.”

  They went into the bedroom and Debra was lying curled up on her side. “Andy!” she said, reaching for him. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure I am, Mommy. I didn’t fall. You did.”

  Bill walked into the room. “Doc’s on his way.”

  “I don’t think he should make the trip out here just for me. I promise I just have a touch of the flu.”

  Bill patted her shoulder. “I think John is right. You need to make sure you’re all right. You could hurt yourself real bad.”

  “How is Betsy?” Debra asked.

  John sighed. “You’re not going to be happy until everyone is in here, are you? I’ll go get Betsy. Bill, you’d better take the guys and get out there. I’ll come if Deb is all right.”

  “Bill, the lunches are on the cabinet waiting for you,” Debra called as Bill left the room.

  “Stay down,” John said, before leaving to go get Betsy.

  He had a pretty good idea about what was wrong with Debra, but he wanted the doctor to tell her. She wouldn’t listen to him.

  Betsy was in her high chair, fussing at Jess. John could hear her as he got to the kitchen. “What are you doing to my child, Jess?”

  “Trying to feed her, but she’s trying to tell me something. I think she’s upset ’cause you and Debra aren’t here.”

  Betsy was waving at her daddy and calling to him. He came over and picked her up. “It’s okay, Betsy. You should thank Jess, but I guess we’ll have to wait a while before you can do that.” He kissed Betsy’s cheek. “But I’ll say thank you, Jess. I appreciate all of you pitching in. Darrell, did you turn off the oven?”

  “Yes, I did.” He dropped his gaze. “And we ate most of the biscuits. We saved you two.”

  “That’s not a problem. I’m going to stay here with Debra and the babies until the doctor gets here and can tell us what’s wrong.”

  “We’ll cover for you, boy. Just take care of Debbie,” Bill said as he herded his depleted crew out the door.

  John put his lunch in the fridge and then took Betsy to his bedroom. As soon as she saw Debra, Betsy began reaching toward her, calling, “Ma-ma.”

  Debra raised up and John looked at her. “You promised to stay down.”

  “I just wanted to reassure Betsy,” she said, lying back down.

  “How about you scoot over,” he said, “and Betsy and I will join you and Andy on the bed.”

  Both Andy and Betsy were thrilled with that solution. Debra didn’t seem as enthusiastic, but she did as he asked. As soon as Betsy got close to Debra, she tried to get free of her father’s hold so she could touch Debra.

  “It’s as if she knows you’re sick,” John said, watching Betsy.

  “I’m not sick, at least not much. I’m sure it’s just a touch of the flu. I felt it earlier this morning.”

  John glared at her. “And you didn’t say anything? What’s wrong with you, woman? You think you can just keep going?”

  “That’s what I’ve done in the past,” she said, not looking at him.

  “Didn’t you have sick leave?”

  “In a diner? I don’t think so. If I can’t be there, they’ll hire someone who can.”

  Damn. The more he heard about Debra’s previous life, the more he realized how tough she’d had to be. And he’d been so hard on her when she’d first come, not because of who she was, but because of who he was.

  Gruffly, he said, “We don’t operate that way here, honey. If you’re sick, you just say you can’t do your job and we’ll take care of it until you can.”

  Debra looked at him, but she said nothing to him. Instead, she talked to the children. Andy played peekaboo with Betsy as Debra had taught him to. Betsy, now sitting in the circle of her daddy’s arms next to Debra, leaned against John and gave a big belly laugh at Andy’s antics.

  Then she raised her hands to cover her eyes, just as Andy was doing.

  “I’ve never seen her do that, Andy,” Debra said. “Have you?”

  “No, Mommy,” Andy said between chuckles. Betsy couldn’t say peekaboo, but she could say boo. That had Andy in hysterics.

  John couldn’t help laughing, himself. He looked at Debra, smiling at the kids. “This is all because of you, Debra. I’m not sure my little girl would’ve learned to laugh if you hadn’t come into her—our—lives.”

  Debra looked away from John. “Then I’m glad I’m here. Betsy should always be able to laugh.”

  “And me?” he asked quietly.

  “I think everyone should be able to laugh.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

  There was something between them, and John, for the life of him, could not figure out what it was. She wouldn’t even make an effort to become friends. Of course, he wanted more than that, but it was a starting place.

  He debated whether to let the doctor make his determination without any inside information, or to meet him at the door and let him know what was going on.

  “What is it?” Debra asked, grabbing his attention. “You looked like you were making a big decision. If it affects me, I want to know. If Andy and I aren’t wanted here, then we’ll pack and be on
our way!” she said, her voice angry.

  Andy looked at his mother. “But, Mommy, you said we would live here for a long time. Has it been a long time, yet?” The little boy looked upset and John reached over to pat his shoulder.

  “No, it definitely hasn’t been a long time, Andy. You and I have a date to ride out and see the baby calves real soon. I think I can talk your mommy into it.”

  “You do?” Andy asked in excitement.

  “Yeah, I do. I know your mommy wants you to be happy. Right, Debra?”

  She turned away, until they all heard the sound of the back door opening.

  “We’re back here, Tom,” John called, and remained there with Debra and the kids.

  Tom appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing? Working on the family plan?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  JOHN stood up and shook the doctor’s hand. “Thanks for coming out, Tom.”

  “Good timing. It was before I started the clinic hours. Now, what’s the problem?”

  “My wife passed out this morning during breakfast.”

  Tom turned to stare at Debra. “You look pale. How are you feeling?”

  Debra tried to sit up. With a look of confusion on her face she fell back on the pillow. “A—a little dizzy.”

  Tom looked at his friend. “John, why don’t you take the kids into the living room while I give Debra an exam.”

  “I think—” John began, but both the doctor and Debra seemed opposed to whatever he thought. “Okay,” he finally agreed, and picked up Betsy. “Come on, Andy, let’s go play.”

  The little boy scooted off the bed and took John’s hand, but his gaze was on his mother.

  “It’s all right, Andy. The doctor is going to fix me up. Then I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, Mommy.”

  Once the door was closed, Tom sat down on the bed.

  “First question. Could you be pregnant?”

  “No.” Her cheeks were red and she didn’t meet his gaze.

  “How do you know?”

  Debra glared at the doctor. “Because our marriage is one of convenience and we don’t share a bedroom.”

  Tom’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t pursue the topic. “Let me listen to your heart.”

  She tried to sit up, but the room spun around. She flopped back down on the pillow in frustration. “Why am I so light-headed?”

  “Just lie still and let me listen to your heart.” Tom placed his stethoscope on her chest. Then he looked at her eyes and sat up. “Okay, answer these questions. How many hours did you sleep last night?”

  “Four. I usually get more, but lately, I’ve been trying to finish a quilt and—and I stayed up too late.”

  “What did you have for breakfast this morning?”

  “I don’t think I got around to breakfast. I was feeding Betsy and—”

  “How about dinner last night?”

  “I, uh, I was—”

  “Debra, when was the last time you had a solid meal?”

  She remained silent.

  “Have you been losing weight?”

  “A—a few pounds.”

  “Looks to me like more than a few. What I want to know is why. Is John driving you too hard? Do you need to have some time for yourself?”

  “No! I can do my job.”

  “Not if you don’t eat. You’re a smart woman, Debra. If you skip meals and don’t sleep enough, you get weak, light-headed. You should know that.”

  “I didn’t realize—I was trying to finish the quilts.”

  “What’s so important about these quilts?”

  “I need to sell them at the fair.”

  “Did John ask you to do that?”

  Her face turned bright red again. “No, it has nothing to do with John.”

  Tom nodded. She had the feeling he wasn’t satisfied, but at least he stopped probing. “Well, you stay in bed. I’m going to have John bring you some breakfast. You are to eat every bit of it and stay in bed until after lunch, when you will again eat what he brings you. If you’re feeling all right after a nap, then you can get up for dinner.” He eyed her sharply. “Do you understand? If you don’t follow my directions, you may become seriously ill and then you’ll be of no use to anyone, least of all yourself.”

  John shook Tom’s hand. “Thanks, Tom. I didn’t think she’d believe me if I told her the same thing.”

  “You knew what was going on?”

  “I’d noticed the weight loss, the paleness.”

  “Why didn’t you do something?”

  “We don’t have that kind of relationship. Besides, she’s a little hardheaded.”

  “She told me she’d been working so much to sell quilts. Excuse me, John, but I have to ask. Are you broke?”

  “No. It’s been tight, but since I sold the Escalade, I have enough money to make it until I sell the calf crop in the fall. I know about the quilts, but I don’t know why. Did she tell you anything?”

  “No. But I think you’d better find out and take care of whatever it is before she really hurts herself.”

  “Yeah, I will. Thanks again, Tom.”

  After Tom left, John settled the kids and went to the kitchen to put together a breakfast tray for Debra. He scrambled eggs and heated up leftover sausage, made some toast and poured a glass of milk.

  Then he carried it to his bedroom. Debra opened her eyes as he came in. He set the tray down and picked up the extra pillows to prop her up.

  “Thank you, John. I can feed myself.”

  “No, you can’t. Until you get some food in you and some sleep, you can’t do anything. I’m going to feed you, and we’re going to talk seriously about what has been going on.”

  She looked away from him, as if afraid she might reveal a secret if he looked into her eyes.

  “Here, take a bite. Now you can critique my cooking,” he teased.

  Gradually she relaxed as she ate her breakfast. John insisted she drink the entire glass of milk, as well as eat everything on the tray except the dishes. He threatened to call Tom back out if she didn’t.

  Though he’d hoped to talk to her, he recognized the sleepiness in her eyes as she finished the big meal. Without saying anything, he stood and took the extra pillows away. Then he kissed her cheek and told her to rest. She was asleep before he got to the door.

  “Is Mommy okay?” Andy asked, a worried look on his face.

  “She’s fine, Andy. She ate a good breakfast and then fell asleep. She’s been staying awake too late working on a quilt.”

  “I know,” Andy said.

  “Do you know why?” John asked. Then he chided himself. How desperate could he be, giving a three-year-old the third degree? “Never mind, Andy. We’ll get things figured out. But today, you and Betsy are stuck with me.”

  “I’ll help you, John. I can make Betsy laugh.”

  “I know, pal. You’re the best at that. I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen. Then you can help me give Betsy her bath.”

  “Okay.”

  They spent the entire day together, John and the two children. They visited Debra at lunchtime and made sure she ate. Then Andy and Betsy joined her on the bed for their naps. Betsy slept between the other two, so she couldn’t fall off the bed. John figured out dinner, using some shortcuts, like canned biscuits. The men might complain, but he would let them know they’d better be glad they didn’t have to make dinner themselves.

  He still hadn’t had a heart-to-heart with Debra. He was eager to do so, but he wanted her to feel good before he pressed her for the truth. Otherwise, he’d feel like a brute, battering his wife.

  When the men came in for dinner, no one complained at all. Afterward, John asked the men to clean the kitchen while Bill got the two children to bed.

  John took Debra’s dinner tray to his bedroom. She’d eaten well and slept most of the day. John figured another good meal should fix her up.

  When he entered the room, she sat up.

  “The room’s not spinning? You must b
e feeling better.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m also feeling a little silly for letting things get in such bad shape.”

  “No need. We all make mistakes. Now, I prepared dinner, so I don’t want to hear any complaints. Our normal great cook had to take a sick day, so I did my best.”

  “I’m sure it will be very good. I could’ve come to the table and saved you the trouble of bringing it to me.”

  “No. I want you to stay in bed all day today. Besides, this will give us some time to talk. Something’s wrong, and I want to know what it is.”

  “No, everything’s fine.” But she didn’t sound convincing.

  “Listen, Debra, I know I was rough on you when you first arrived. I didn’t believe any woman could be selfless, a hard worker and really be sweet, too. But you’re all of those things.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I believe you are.” He took her spare hand in his. “Can’t we start over?”

  “Are you still planning on hiring a housekeeper in the fall?”

  “Yeah, I should be able to do that.”

  She pulled her hand away and looked down. “Then we have nothing to talk about.”

  John tried to think through what they’d just said. Something didn’t make sense. “My hiring a house keeper is the sticking point? If I let you continue to do all the work and wear yourself out, you’re happy?”

  “If I don’t work here, I’ll just have to work some where else.” She kept her head down, not giving him a chance to see her eyes.

  “Wait! You’re talking about an either/or situation? You think if the housekeeper comes, you’ll be leaving? By my choice?”

  She gave him a quick look, then ducked her head again.

  “Are you crazy?” he demanded.

  Debra thought she might be—crazy, that is. What he was saying wasn’t computing in her head. She’d been working as hard as she could and everything had fallen apart today. Now, he wanted to talk about hiring a housekeeper.

  “Debra, hiring a housekeeper doesn’t mean I want you to go. I want you to stay, no matter what happens. We got married. I didn’t hire you for the calving season. You’re my wife.”

  “No, I’m not. We’re not—We don’t—I mean—”

  He bent over and kissed her, and God help her, she let him.