Having the Rancher's Baby

by Cathy McDavid

  “That’s what I heard. And I’m not worried. You’re a fine rancher, Cole. But then, you come by it honestly.”

  He climbed off Hotshot, uncertain about his next move until he saw the flash of hope in her eyes. Dropping the reins, he strode toward her. Hotshot meandered off, going only so far as the closest clump of grass.

  “I’m curious.” She studied him intently. “You’re giving up the things you’ve wanted since you got here. Money and your freedom. I’d like to know why. I think I’m entitled.”

  God, was he really once that callous and shallow? “Don’t forget sticking it to my late father and Gabe. That was highest on my list.”

  A tiny glint of humor lit her features. “What’s important is that you didn’t stick it to them.”

  Emotions warred inside him, and he wondered if he’d ever find peace. “I still think my dad was wrong. He made a lot of bad decisions. When he had the chance to rectify them, he chose not to. That’s hard to forgive.”

  “I understand.”

  “But I can and will put it behind me, Vi.” He smiled, though he still felt sad. “I’m tired of anger and resentment directing the course of my life. I’m ready for a change. To quit being like my mom. I didn’t realize how much I resembled her until last week. It was a rude awakening, let me tell you.”

  Vi tilted her head at an appealing angle. “I know I’ve said this before, but you’re far more like your dad. He was confident in himself, whether or not he was right.”

  “I’m right in this case. My future is in Mustang Valley.”

  “That makes me happy.”

  He wished he could be sure. He was anything but confident when it came to Vi’s feelings for him.

  “I have a new client.” He hadn’t told anyone yet.

  “You do?” She beamed.

  “The De Marcoses. Blake Nolan recommended me to them, if you can believe it.”

  “I know them.” She gave him a curious look. “They have small children.”

  “Right.” He grinned wryly. “It appears I’m gaining a reputation in the area as a trainer of kids’ horses. Not exactly what I envisioned for myself.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, laughing behind her hand. “It’s not funny.”

  “It is. I’d laugh, too, if not for the money.”

  “I’m glad you aren’t limiting yourself.”

  He sobered. “I’ll do it, Vi. I’ll support our child and be there for him or her. Always. I’m going to be a better father than my dad was.”

  “I can’t ask for more.”

  “Yes, you can. You should.” He shortened the distance between them. “I promise you I’m going to work my tail off to be worthy of our child and you. I was wrong the other day. And if you kick me to the curb, I wouldn’t blame you. I’d hate it, but I’d—”

  He didn’t finish because she came to him then, ending his torture. He held her tight, hoping she sensed the depth of his love.

  “I’m sorry, Vi. For everything.”

  “I’m the one who should be apologizing. The way I talked to you, I’m no better than my parents. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  He hoisted her up onto her toes, reveling in the contact of her soft body and how exquisitely she fit against him. “It does fall very far. We’re proof of that.”

  “I wouldn’t want anyone else for the father of my baby.”

  Nothing had ever touched him more. “Be careful. That almost sounds like you love me.”

  “I—”

  He brought his mouth close to hers, stopping her before she could finish. “Let me be the first to say it. I love you. On some level, I think I knew the second I walked into the bar that night I’d met the woman I was meant to spend the rest of my life with.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, because we’re really going to have this baby.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  She pulled back in order to search his face. What she saw must have satisfied her. “I love you, too, Cole. I didn’t think it was possible. These past few months have been incredible.”

  “Speaking of incredible...” He kissed her then, since holding her had ceased to be enough.

  At the touch of her lips on his, everything that was wrong became instantly right. Every mistake, every regret forgotten.

  “Are you free tonight?” he asked, when they broke apart, his mouth poised close to hers. “I could cook dinner. We can talk.”

  “I thought you couldn’t cook.

  “I didn’t say it would be good.”

  “I’m not busy,” she said shyly. “But let’s eat at my house. So we can be alone.

  He kissed her again. How could he not? When she returned his passion in equal measure, he began to believe in a future he’d always thought beyond his reach.

  Eventually, he had to let her go, but he fully intended on resuming later tonight.

  “I’m going to court you, Vi,” he said. “The way I should have from the start. And after a while, not long, mind you, I’m going to ask you to marry me. I think a week should do it. Two at the most.”

  “And I’m going to accept, Cole Dempsey.” Her smile outshone the sun. “Just so you know.”

  “Good. Otherwise, I’d have to pester you until you came to your senses.”

  They tied Hotshot to the back of her truck and very slowly drove home, both to accommodate the horse and because they didn’t want their time together to end.

  Cole couldn’t help thinking that he’d come full circle. Only by returning to Dos Estrellas, the place where his life had started, was he able to find everything he needed to complete it. Home, happiness, a family and the love of his life.

  * * * * *

  Watch for the next book in

  Cathy McDavid’s MUSTANG VALLEY miniseries,

  RESCUING THE COWBOY,

  available October 2016.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE SEAL’S SECOND CHANCE BABY by Laura Marie Altom.

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  The SEAL’s Second Chance Baby

  by Laura Marie Altom

  Chapter One

  Effie Washington stopped humming to hold her hand to her forehead, shading her eyes from the brutal August sun. Was she seeing a mirage? Was that a mule deer or man on horseback, slumped in his saddle?

  From her vantage atop the roof of her grandmother’s run-down adobe ranch
house, she narrowed her gaze. In southeast Colorado, judging distance could be tricky. On a clear day, she had the front range to her west, but with miles upon miles of rolling grassland and the vast wide-open sky, the object she thought might be a few hundred yards in the distance could turn out to be a mile away.

  “Colt! Remington!” she called to her six-year-old identical-twin boys. They were supposed to be on ladder guard duty—a fancy way of ensuring they didn’t run off by making them believe they were charged with a highly important job.

  “Yeah, Mom?” As usual, they answered in tandem.

  “Did you ever put your boots back on after I caught you messing with the hose?”

  “Uh-uh,” Remington said.

  “I will now!” Colt darted around the side of the house.

  Remington followed.

  A few minutes of silence alerted Effie to the chance that her angels were up to no good.

  “Cool! A scorpion!”

  She peered over the roof to find both boys beneath the yard’s sole tree—a century-old cottonwood—engrossed in poking a stick at the potentially harmful creature.

  “Leave it alone!” Effie closed her eyes and sighed. Those two would be the death of her. At least once she finally finished her nursing degree, she’d know how to tend to most of their health emergencies. Abandoning the much-needed roof-patching project, she hurried down the ladder to disperse her boys, who not only hadn’t left the scorpion alone, but had scooped it into a tin can they’d snatched from the trash barrel.

  “But it’s awesome!” Colt jabbed a weed at it to watch it rear up and strike.

  “Quit!” Remington shouted. “He’s gonna sting my eyeballs!”

  “Give me that.” Effie took the can, carrying it far from the house to fling the offensive creature over the back fence.

  “Aw, why’d you have to go and do that?” Colt pouted. “We was gonna take it to school.”

  “We were going to take it—and since school doesn’t start for another week—no, no and no.”

  “You’re mean!” Colt kicked a dirt clump near the toe of his boot.

  “But I love you.” Sometimes, Effie silently added with secret smile. Motherhood had never been easy—her twins had been a challenge from day one. “How about you get in the house and see if Grandma needs help with Cassidy?”

  Colt scrunched his face. “We don’t wanna go inside. Grandma’s always watchin’ her stupid soap boperas, and Cass is boring.”

  “Go!” Effie pointed toward the back door. “If Grandma doesn’t need help, clean your room.”

  With the twins grumbling and moping their way into the house, Effie scanned the horizon for the odd sight that had started all of this. Once Colt had his boots back on, she’d intended to send the boys off to scout the situation, but she could now plainly see a chestnut with its rider hunched in the saddle a good hundred yards north of the house.

  The four-wheeler was busted, and it would take longer to saddle her trusty paint, Lulu, than it would to walk, so Effie tugged the brim of her straw cowboy hat lower to shade against the sun, then trudged through thick weeds and grasses, dotted with occasional cactus and yucca. They’d had surprisingly good rain throughout the summer, which meant her herd of thirty Angus was fat and happy.

  They sold them off as needed for extra income.

  The closer she came to the man, the more obvious it became that he was in trouble, Effie started to run.

  “Hello? Can you hear me?” By the time she reached him and his horse, she was out of breath and sweat drenched. The sun’s heat pressed her shoulders like malevolent hands.

  The stranger was unconscious.

  “Sir?” She shook him. Looked as though he might have tried using a rope to lash himself into the saddle, but it now hung loose. If his boot heels hadn’t been stuck in the stirrups, he’d have fallen off. Is he dehydrated?

  No. A nearly full water bottle hung from the saddle’s horn.

  His horse neighed, its eyes wide with panic.

  “It’s all right, boy.” Knowing she needed to get this man to a hospital, Effie took the horse by the reins, guiding him toward the house as fast as she could manage.

  She didn’t slow until she reached the yard’s gate, and even then, she hollered, “Colt! Remington! Mabel!” Please, God, let them hear her through the open window screens.

  All three came running. Her grandmother carried six-month-old Cass on her hip.

  “Whoa!” the twins cried, racing to her.

  “What happened to him?” Colt asked.

  “Don’t know.” Effie led the man’s horse into the only slightly cooler shade alongside the barn. “I need to call 911.” Never had she wished more for the cell phone she’d left back at the house.

  “Look at his hand.” Remington pointed. “It’s all puffy.”

  Effie paused a moment to look. The man’s fingers had swollen to the point that his wedding ring would need to be cut off. Twin puncture wounds oozed a nasty mix of clear fluid and blood. She’d seen similar marks on a horse, and then only because she’d witnessed the rattlesnake strike.

  She took off running toward the house.

  “What’s wrong with him, Mom?” Colt called after her.

  “Snakebite,” she heard Mabel say.

  No doubt from the heat and excitement, just as Effie reached the front porch, Cassidy began to cry.

  * * *

  MARSH LANGTREE DRIFTED in and out of a strange new world.

  His son, Tucker, was still alive, but older—and somehow there were two of him. A baby wouldn’t stop crying. And then there was an angel—petite and blonde with eyes the same deep blue-green as the Indian Ocean.

  Let’s get that ring off and start an IV.

  His eyes wouldn’t stay open.

  Mom, is he dead?

  Maybe I am?

  The angel knelt alongside him, stroking his hair. You’ll be all right. They’re taking you to the hospital.

  Hospital? Marsh thought he’d died. That was the only way he’d ever see his son again.

  A man approached with a tool and then there was pressure on his left hand. Ma’am, would you mind holding his ring? He’ll probably want to have it repaired when he comes out of this.

  Why were they taking his wedding ring?

  Before he could further process the question, his eyes drifted closed and refused to open again.

  * * *

  “WE’LL BE TAKING him to Arkansas Valley Regional in La Junta,” the older of the two paramedics said to Effie after they’d settled the man in the back of the ambulance. He handed her the stranger’s wallet. She felt foolish for not having looked for it sooner. “Since he’s gotta be from around here, would you please contact his family? This kind of news comes better from friends.”

  “Sure,” she said automatically, hoping her grandmother might know the man’s next of kin. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “He’ll live, but it’s too soon to tell how much lasting damage there might be to his hand.”

  While the twins chased the ambulance down the dirt drive, Mabel approached with Cassidy still on her hip. “Sure didn’t see any of this coming. Some bit of excitement, huh?”

  “Yep.” Excitement was one way of putting it. Effie’s pulse still hadn’t slowed.

  Her grandmother wrangled the boys back into the house to help fix lunch. “You coming?”

  “I will in a sec.” Effie gravitated toward the barn. “Let me take care of the stranger’s horse.”

  Effie led the chestnut into the cathedral-like barn, setting the wallet on top of a hay bale. The structure’s ancient wood creaked in the light breeze. She never tired of the smells of hay and worn leather tack and a trace of manure.

  Mabel had inherited the ranch from her third husband, Dwayn
e, a few years earlier. They’d celebrated their thirtieth anniversary before he died from cancer. He’d been a kind, loving man—far better than Effie’s no-account grandfather, who’d gone to jail for cattle rustling a year after their vows.

  Poor Mabel had then married his brother, but that marriage hadn’t turned out much better. He’d been a moonshiner who’d gone and gotten himself shot and died a week later from his wound.

  After leading the horse to a stall, Effie removed his saddle and set it atop a rack. She then brushed the creature, calming him with each stroke.

  The adrenaline rush of finding the unconscious man had reminded her all too much of the first time she’d seen her own ex-husband, Moody, bucked from the back of a bull. He’d lain on the rodeo arena’s soft dirt for a good five minutes before paramedics helped him come around. She’d been six months pregnant with the twins and feared going into early labor from the terror of finding her reckless husband paralyzed or dead.

  That night marked the beginning of the end of their marriage—not because he’d been seriously injured, but because he hadn’t. Instead of being relieved to the point that he gave up his PBR dreams to settle down with a nice, safe nine-to-five job, he’d doubled the amount of bull-riding competitions he entered. She’d prayed that once the boys were born he’d realize it was time to call it quits, but he refused.

  She’d fooled herself into thinking love would be enough to sustain her through life on the road with newborns and then toddlers, but when the twins turned five and were eager to start school, she’d put her foot down, demanding Moody stop for the sake of their family.

  He’d again refused, leaving her with no choice but to go on without him in the hopes that he’d soon miss her and the boys badly enough to realize he needed them more than adrenaline.

  Her parents had offered to take her and the boys in, but they led such active lives back in Oklahoma City, where she’d grown up, that she couldn’t imagine how she and the boys would fit in.

  When Effie’s widowed grandmother, Mabel, suggested it would be a godsend for Effie to move in and help, she’d jumped at the offer. Not for one second did she believe her high-octane, square-dance-a-holic grandma actually needed her, but she was beyond grateful for the safe place for her little family to land.