Promise Kept

by Mitzi Pool Bridges

  She stepped outside, cut a hand full of roses from Nellie’s garden, and arranged them in a vase.

  “That looks nice,” Nellie said. “When Dugan called to tell me they were on their way home, I made Donovan’s favorite dessert.”

  “And that would be...?”

  “Pound cake with strawberries, and whipped cream,” Donovan’s voice sounded behind her.

  Phyl jumped. He was supposed to be upstairs.

  “Exactly,” Nellie said.

  Going to her son, Nellie wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her head on his chest. “It’s so good having you in my kitchen again.” She reached up, kissed his whiskered cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  Donovan patted her back awkwardly, walked to the door, and headed upstairs. “When’s dinner?”

  Nellie looked at the clock. “Ten minutes.”

  “Good.” He started upstairs.

  Mark followed right behind him.

  “No you don’t, Mark. You can help me.”

  “That’s girl’s work,” he whined.

  “Says who?” Nellie and Phyl said together.

  Phyl chuckled. She’d miss this.

  With a frown, Mark did as he was told. When he finished, he headed for the back door.

  “Can I play with Freckles and Queenie until dinner?”

  “If you don’t get dirty. You wouldn’t want to take another bath, would you?”

  Mark rolled his eyes as he went out the door. His happy voice as he called the dogs and their gleeful barks made her smile.

  “He loves those dogs,” Nellie said.

  “Yes, he does. Now I think he’s going to have a love affair with Lily.” She turned and went to stand beside the older woman. “Thanks again for letting us stay. It’s wonderful to see Mark so happy.”

  “You’ve been more help than I can ever say.” Nellie chuckled. “I thought you were joshing when you told me you were applying for the job. It was hard to believe a little thing like you could do ranch work.” Nellie looked at Phyl fondly. “I enjoy Mark more every day. He’s an added bonus.”

  “He loves it here.”

  “What about you? I know how hard you work. Wouldn’t you be happier doing something easier?”

  Here it was. Nellie was going to ease Phyl and Mark out the door. It didn’t matter that Nellie cared for them. Donovan was back.

  Phyl let out a silent sigh. “I was raised on a ranch. Coming here has made me realize how much I missed the life.”

  “Even the back-breaking chores?”

  “Even those,” Phyl assured her.

  “Dinner ready?” Dugan asked as he stuck his head in the back door.

  Mark scooted in under his arm. “I’m hungry, Mom.”

  “I’m hungry, too, Mom.” Dugan laughed.

  “You boys are always hungry.” Nellie chuckled as she took a large tray out of the oven. “I think everything’s ready.” She turned to Phyl. “Why don’t you call Donovan down to eat?”

  She didn’t want the task, but didn’t know how to get out of it. The thought of being alone with him made her nervous. It would give him the chance to tell her to leave without Nellie’s objection.

  But Nellie was definitely on Phyl’s side. Maybe that would help.

  Phyl found Donovan sitting on the top step of the staircase, his hands hanging between his legs, a look on his face she couldn’t fathom. “Your mom sent me to tell you that dinner’s ready.”

  “I’ll be there,” he said, staring at her with cold, blue eyes.

  Phyl felt a chill.

  She turned to go back downstairs.

  “Just a minute.”

  Her foot froze in mid-air. Here it was. She clamped her teeth together, lifted her head. She’d survive this the same way she’d survived so far. Whatever it took, she would keep Mark safe.

  Resolutely, she put her foot down, turned. “Yes?”

  “Are there any problems?”

  Her heart flipped with dread. Her throat closed. Problems? She could name a dozen. So which ones interested him? “What do you mean?”

  “Mom said you’ve been taking care of things. Are there any problems I should know about?”

  So this was how it would start. He’d find out that the west hay field hadn’t been baled. He’d get an update on the expecting heifers. He’d see where the northeast fence line needed repairs, that fifty cows from the north pasture needed shots. Maybe he’d thank her before sending her on her way. Maybe not. Then he’d take back the reins, the management, the work that had helped ease the fear that haunted her—that sent her and Mark running.

  What had she expected?

  Her mind raced. Where would they go? A large city? Maybe. They could hide there. Or would another ranch be better? Whatever she did, wherever she went, it was imperative they stay hidden.

  She’d have to get a job fast or they’d be living in a shelter. Even that was better than being found.

  ****

  What the heck?

  Didn’t look as if she was going to answer. Probably because there were so many problems she couldn’t name them all. There was no way a skinny thing like her could do a man’s job.

  Wisps of blond hair escaped the ribbon she’d tied at the back of her head. Dark brown eyes looked at him with such sadness it made him squirm. She wasn’t bigger than a minute. Yeah, she was tall, but way too thin. Her hands looked strong. Her arms had defined muscles. He couldn’t see her legs in those jeans, but from where he sat, they were long and shapely, maybe even muscular. Still, he couldn’t see her handling the hard work.

  Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was just company for Mom.

  Phyl cleared her throat. “I’ll make a list for you tonight. Is that all right?”

  He nodded.

  Probably take her hours.

  He stood.

  She moved downstairs.

  His eyes fastened on those long legs, the sway of her hips.

  She could leave now that he was back, her and the kid.

  Not if you leave again, a voice whispered in his head. Mom would need someone to help with the ranch. There had been times he’d needed help himself. But this woman? That was questionable.

  He lost sight of her when she rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. Slowly, he continued downstairs.

  His brothers and sister expected him to stay. So did Mom. But even Mom couldn’t expect him to work with a female ranch hand. Surely, she’d want things the way they’d been.

  What a joke. Nothing would ever be the same.

  He reached the bottom step. Why was this so hard?

  The boy ran up to him and pulled him by the hand into the kitchen where everyone stood waiting. The youngster asked questions a mile a minute, ignored the fact they weren’t being answered.

  Donovan loosened his grip, went to his place at the table. Hesitated. He didn’t belong at the head of the table. Never had.

  He walked past his place, went to sit by Dugan.

  Dugan gave him a curious look, but said nothing. Neither did his mother.

  It was a habit for Donovan to say the blessing. He gave his mother a look even she couldn’t misinterpret. She looked at Dugan.

  “Lord, we thank you for this food and for each other,” Dugan said. “Now dig in.”

  Mark laughed. “I love Mexican food.”

  “So do I,” Dugan said.

  “I haven’t seen a thing you didn’t like since the first day we came here, Dugan,” Phyl teased.

  “You’ve got me pegged. Eating is my favorite pastime.”

  “Mine, too,” Mark agreed. “‘Cept I like Lily.” He paused to shovel in another bite. “And Queenie and Freckles.”

  “And the cows. Plus every other animal you see,” Phyl added.

  Nellie laughed. “What don’t you like, Mark?”

  It was clear his mother was trying to make Donovan’s first night easier. There were no questions about where he’d been or what he’d done. No “What happened to your truck?” questions. Nothin
g to make him feel unwanted or uncared for. Still, he could barely get the food down. He’d spent too many days hunting a man he hated instead of eating. It was as if his stomach didn’t know what to do with food.

  He choked down as much as he could before his mother brought out dessert.

  “Wow!” Mark said as she set a tray on the table with dessert plates piled with cake, strawberries and mile-high whipped cream. “Awesome!”

  Phyl chuckled. “I agree.”

  Donovan didn’t know how he’d get down another morsel, but his mother had gone to so much trouble. He took a bite. The familiar taste sent memories roaring through his head.

  Mom made all of their birthdays as special as she could. Every year each child was asked which cake he or she wanted. One year Donovan asked for and got this very dessert. He couldn’t have been as old as the kid sitting across from him, but he remembered how thrilled he was when Mom brought it out with a candle on top of his piece; remembered how special he’d felt.

  He couldn’t conjure up that feeling now if his life depended on it.

  Donovan felt betrayed, even embarrassed. Who else knew?

  He pushed aside the dessert, rose from the table. “Excuse me,” he said and left the room.

  Silence followed him.

  Chapter Three

  Donovan shut the door to his room quietly, went to the window and leaned his head against the glass.

  He didn’t want to be here where every day he’d have to face the truth. A truth he didn’t think he would ever be able to accept.

  Instead of easing the pain, coming home had accentuated it.

  Except for the years he’d spent at Texas A&M University he’d never left the ranch, had never wanted to. Yet, standing here looking out the window at the familiar barns and fields, he felt like a stranger.

  Taking deep breaths, he forced his nerves under control.

  His gaze swept over what he could see of the ranch. Everything looked the same, yet not the same.

  In the distance the cattle grazed in contentment.

  Automatically, he reached for his binoculars. Just as he’d done hundreds of times before, he adjusted the glasses and checked to make sure everything looked as it should.

  It hadn’t been that long ago he’d looked through these same glasses to see a sick cow amongst the healthy ones. By the time he was at the side of the sick heifer, he knew it wasn’t theirs. What he hadn’t known was the nightmare to follow. It had taken a huge dose of bravery, guts, and determination on the part of his sister to pull the ranch out of it.

  But now everything seemed peaceful. Serene, even. He wanted to feel the same.

  Putting the glasses aside he roamed the room that had been his all of his life.

  Why did he let his brothers and sister talk him into coming home? Half-brothers and half-sister, he reminded himself. The pull of hurt in his gut told him he didn’t belong.

  Eventually, he’d make a life somewhere else. Just not here.

  He stepped up to the window again. There was plenty of daylight left on this late July day, and the temperature was getting Texas hot. He wondered how the woman would handle the ranch when the heat hit its zenith around the middle of August.

  The boy went into the yard, threw a stick that the dogs were only too eager to bring back.

  Who were they; the kid and his mom? Where had they come from? If he left, would they stay and make this their home?

  Where was her husband? Was that why she was here? Was she running from an abusive marriage? What were her credentials anyway? Had anyone checked her out?

  She walked over to stand beside her son. Both had that same blond hair and brown eyes. Only the kid would be bigger than his mother by a mile from the looks of his build.

  She said something to him, ruffled his hair and went to the barn.

  Donovan’s eyes followed.

  She had a provocative walk; he’d give her that. Not that it would help with ranch chores. Then she disappeared inside.

  He started to turn away when she stepped out, called to her son, her motions agitated, hurried. Donovan couldn’t hear what she said, but the boy turned and ran to the house.

  Something was wrong.

  Slamming out of his room, Donovan was in the kitchen by the time the kid bounded inside.

  “Mom said to tell you she might need your help,” he said.

  Donovan, halfway to the barn, saw Dugan’s pickup going down the drive. But his mind wasn’t on his brother, the sheriff. It was on the problem in the barn.

  Going from being the man who knew everything that went on at the ranch, from the newest newborn to the number of bales of hay in storage, he was now in the position of having to ask questions. It was a strange and unwelcome feeling.

  Tamping down a sliver of anger, he wondered again if that was a trait he’d inherited from his biological father. He didn’t get it from Duncan Callahan. He was the calmest guy Donovan ever knew. So were his biological sons.

  He strode into the barn, heard the distress of a heifer giving birth, and the soothing voice of the woman who’d taken his place.

  “She’s having a hard time,” Phyl said, as he knelt beside them. “I was afraid this would happen. She’s small and from the size of her belly the calf is large.”

  A bottle of disinfectant was there along with chains. How did she know what would be needed?

  “I’ll call the vet,” he offered, standing to do so.

  “Not a bad idea, but she might not wait.”

  He ran to the phone in the barn, made the call and was back in seconds.

  Phyl had on gloves, poured disinfectant on them, waited for a contraction and pulled on the extended hoof.

  Blood covered her gloves and was on her shirt. The heifer was small, but she was several times the size of the woman who seemed determined to help.

  He prayed that the vet would get there in time.

  Nellie, with Mark in tow, came into the barn. Donovan started to tell them about the calf when Phyl saw a contraction coming and pulled again.

  “Mark, go back to the house with Nellie,” Phyl said, her voice low. “We’ll be through here soon.”

  “Can I watch?”

  Phyl looked at Donovan.

  He shrugged.

  “Only if you’re very quiet.”

  “I will be. I promise.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Nellie said.

  “If I don’t get the calf out now, she’ll die,” Phyl said. “But I don’t want to use the chains.”

  Donovan pulled on gloves.

  Another contraction came harder this time. Donovan hunched down beside Phyl to help her pull.

  The calf slid out with a whoosh of body fluids.

  Phyl didn’t waste a minute, but went to the calf that lay there as if it were dead, picked it up by its hind legs.

  “Give me a hand,” she said. “She isn’t breathing.”

  The two of them held the calf upside down for about a minute while the fluid drained out, and she took a breath.

  “That’s enough,” Phyl said. They laid it back on the floor next to the heifer.

  Though weak, the mama licked at the calf until she stood on wobbly legs.

  “Good job, mama,” Phyl purred. “You’ve got yourself a beauty.”

  “Did you see that?” Mark asked. “Awesome.”

  “I did,” Nellie answered.

  “Let’s get the mama up,” Phyl said.

  “Look.” Donovan leaned forward. “I think she’s going to get to her feet on her own.”

  Sure enough, with little help from him, the heifer was on her feet, nudging and licking her newborn.

  Phyl sat back, took off her gloves, wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt.

  Donovan watched in admiration. “That was an impressive job. Never saw a vet do better.”

  She sent him a rueful smile. “When I was young, I wanted to be one.”

  “A vet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why
didn’t you?”

  She gave him a look he couldn’t define before she answered.

  “I didn’t finish college. Never got to vet school.”

  He waved an arm at the calf that was now sucking on a teat. “Then how did you know how to do this?”

  “Grew up on a ranch,” she answered.

  “You’re a natural.” They sat in silence for a while. Mark so quiet Donovan forgot he was there.

  There was something elemental in both the birthing and the bonding process.

  “Wow!” Mark whispered when he saw the newborn wobble around on shaky legs.

  “Let’s go back to the house,” Nellie suggested. “We’ll check them again in the morning.” Taking his hand she led him out of the barn.

  Phyl stood, watched them leave. “That was Mark’s first birthing. I wonder what he thought.”

  “I thought you had an emergency.” Doc Waters grinned when he walked up to the stall, and saw the heifer and newborn.

  “We did. But Phyl took care of it.”

  Donovan introduced them.

  “Difficult birth, huh? You’re lucky you didn’t lose them both.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Donovan said.

  Doc Waters looked the calf and heifer over. “Looks good. No uterine tearing. Just make sure she expels the placenta and she’ll be fine.”

  When he left, they watched the cow and calf. “How did you know she’d deliver today? How did you know to bring her to the barn?”

  Phyl gave him the look. “Why wouldn’t I know? She was discharging, in obvious discomfort, her bag was full and her sides had sunk in. She was about to pop.”

  “Thank God you knew what you were doing.” Or they would have lost both cow and calf. If not for Phyl, they would have found them both in the pasture—dead.

  “Looks as if I’m in for another shower,” Phyl said. “See you later.”

  ****

  Every muscle begged for attention. Her shoulders felt as if they’d been pulled out of their sockets. Her arms were getting stiff. How long had it been since she’d birthed a calf? Years, and never one this difficult. Luckily, she’d assisted her dad many times and still remembered. Maybe it was like riding a bicycle.