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Having The Rancher's Baby
Cathy McDavid
SETTLE DOWN, COWBOY!His family’s Arizona cattle ranch is just the place for Cole Dempsey to hang his hat before he heads back to the rodeo circuit. That is, until Violet Hathaway makes Cole think twice about his future when the livestock manager delivers her game-changing news: she’s pregnant!One passionate mistake could cost Vi her job at Dos Estrellas. And whatever growing feelings Cole and Violet have for each other, she knows the professional cowboy hadn’t planned on settling down in Mustang Valley. When he hits the road again, he’ll take her dream of them making a life together. Or is a rancher’s legacy about to come full circle?



“I think of you a lot. And the baby.”
Her curiosity got the best of her. “Do you?”
He faced her and, if it weren’t hot enough already outside, her cheeks instantly heated beneath his intense scrutiny.
“In fact, I think about that night a lot.”
“Hmm. The sex.”
“Not the sex.” He dipped his head. “Though, it was good. Mighty good.”
“Cole, we can’t.” She moved away, putting some much-needed distance between them.
He stopped her with a gentle tug on her elbow. “What I think about is the talking. The holding. The sleeping in each other’s arms and waking up together with you beside me. The smell of your hair and the softness of your skin.”
Vi could feel her resistance slowly melting.

Having the Rancher’s Baby
Cathy McDavid


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Since 2006, New York Times bestselling author CATHY MCDAVID has been happily penning contemporary Westerns for Mills & Boon. Every day, she gets to write about handsome cowboys riding the range or busting a bronc. It’s a tough job, but she’s willing to make the sacrifice. Cathy shares her Arizona home with her own real-life sweetheart and a trio of odd pets. Her grown twins have left to embark on lives of their own, and she couldn’t be prouder of their accomplishments.
To the many caring individuals who work diligently and tirelessly for the benefit of all rescue animals everywhere. Nacho, Ozzie and I thank you.
Contents
Cover (#u69d46a21-237f-50d7-a8a4-a92a813b4a15)
Introduction (#ua49d2960-1994-50dc-8625-fb34534509f1)
Title Page (#u59cc0c39-7749-5312-a5b6-8c5f261fc5ce)
About the Author (#uc88e560e-141b-56a3-87fe-12947b888836)
Dedication (#ud0bf51d4-3890-5782-8a17-36de750310d8)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u6207a12c-7952-5fe2-a3d5-0b4c0667fd5c)
“Easy does it, Hotshot.”
Cole Dempsey nudged the paint gelding slowly forward. One step, two steps, then wait.
The six steers at the end of the corral shifted nervously and bunched closer together. Several ears twitched impatiently. Every pair of eyes stared unblinkingly. No one, not horse, rider or steer, moved for a full thirty seconds.
“See him?” Cole murmured. “Number 497.”
As if in answer, Hotshot turned his head to the left, something horses did to bring an object into better focus. In this case, it was the steer with the white patch on his chest. The one getting ready to bolt.
Cole was pleased. What the horse lacked in experience he made up for with inherent cow sense. A few more months’ training under his belt, and Hotshot would make a respectable, if not outstanding, cutting horse. Cole might even cross-train the horse for calf roping. Along with cow sense, both required speed, agility and fearlessness.
“Let’s go!” He pushed Hotshot into a quick run at the small herd, which split at the center like pins being scattered by a bowling ball.
Number 497 took off, instinctively heading for the gate. Cole and Hotshot followed, matching the steer’s every twist and turn as if attached by an invisible cord. Within seconds, they separated the steer from the rest of the herd and ran him to the far end of the corral. He reached the corner and turned to face them, awaiting his fate.
Cole pulled Hotshot to a stop. In a real team penning event, they would have herded the steer into a small holding pen, then gone after the next one until the required three were rounded up and contained. Today, they settled for simply boxing him in a corner.
“Good job.” Cole reached down to give Hotshot a pat on the neck.
The horse had hardly broken a sweat, while Cole was drenched in it, his hair plastered beneath the tattered straw cowboy hat he wore. Mid-May, early afternoon, and the temperature was already in the high eighties. Southern Arizona tended to be like that, alternating between an oven and a boiler room six months of the year. Far different from northern California, where Cole grew up.
Some might say he hailed from here, Mustang Valley. Technically, they’d be right. But his mother had taken him and his older brother, Josh, away when Cole was five to live with their grandparents. California was and always would be home to him. Dos Estrellas, his late father’s six-hundred-acre cattle ranch, now owned by him, Josh and their half brother, Gabe, was a temporary place for Cole to hang his hat. Nothing more.
As soon as the ranch was free of the debt incurred during their father’s lengthy battle with colon cancer, and Cole’s brothers purchased his share, he planned on returning to the rodeo circuit and his life as a professional cowboy.
In the meantime, he filled his days working as a wrangler and learning the cattle business, whether he wanted to or not. Whenever he found a free hour or two, he trained one of Josh’s girlfriend’s rehabilitated mustangs. Hotshot was the first to show potential for being more than a dime-a-dozen ranch horse. The first to light a fire in Cole, albeit a small one.
Practicing on green broke cutting horses wasn’t the same as busting broncs or riding a bull, but team penning was a close cousin to rodeo and, for a while anyway, allowed Cole to be his old self.
“Get a move on.” Waving his coiled lasso over his head, he walked Hotshot along the fence, encouraging number 497 to rejoin the others.
“You’re sweating the fat clean off those steers.”
Hearing a familiar voice, Cole turned in the saddle.
Violet Hathaway, ranch foreman and the only female on Dos Estrellas’s payroll, strolled unhurriedly toward the corral, her boots stirring up dust with each step. She wore her usual attire, a worn blue work shirt and faded jeans. Nonetheless, she looked good. Too good for Cole to tear his gaze away. Not that he tried very hard.
Careful, pal, he warned himself. Thinking of her in those terms was a waste of energy. She was off-limits and had made that crystal clear.
She stopped at the railing. “Skinny steers won’t bring in much money at the sale next month.”
They’d had this discussion before. Every time he borrowed a few head for practice.
“What are you doing here on your day off?” he asked.
Sundays were usually quiet at the ranch. Barring an emergency, Violet always stayed home—home being a cozy house on the outskirts of town. Cole had recently learned that about the ranch foreman, along with a few more interesting tidbits, such as the fact that she owned two cats and read gossip magazines.
“Tying up a few loose ends.” She grabbed the top railing and studied Hotshot with her expert eye. “He looks good.”
“Thanks. Hard to believe he was near starving three months ago.”
“Just goes to show you what regular meals and a little TLC will do.”
The drought last winter had been hard on the few remaining wild mustangs in the area. Hotshot had belonged to a ragtag group rounded up near the Salt River and brought to the sanctuary on Dos Estrellas in the hopes that he might be fattened up and adopted out. Now he belonged to Cole.
He rode the horse over to Violet, offering a smile as he dismounted. Looping the reins around the saddle horn, he rested an arm on the top railing near her hand. He and Violet were face-to-face, except that he had a good five inches on her. She was forced to lift her chin in order to meet his gaze.
Truth be told, he liked her petite stature. She was a lot of snap, crackle and pop in one small package. A very attractive package.
“It’s Sunday,” he said. “The day of rest.”
“Yeah, well, no rest for the wicked.”
He let his voice drop and his eyes rove her face. “You’re not wicked, Vi.” Though she could be flirtatious and fun when she let loose.
For the briefest of seconds, she went still. Then—strange for her, as Violet usually oozed confidence—she turned away. “I asked you not to call me that.”
“I like Vi. It suits you.”
And it was personal. Something just the two of them shared. Calling her Vi was his way of reminding her about the night they’d spent together, which he supposed explained her displeasure. She didn’t like being reminded.
She’d made the mistake of telling him that Vi was a childhood nickname, one she’d insisted on leaving behind upon entering her teens. They’d been alone, lying in bed and revealing their innermost feelings. Unfortunately, the shared intimacy hadn’t lasted, disappearing with the first rays of morning sunlight.
“Cole.” She sighed.
“What?” He feigned innocence.
“You know what. We agreed.”
“To what? Me not calling you Vi?”
“Don’t joke.”
She was definitely out of sorts today. And pale. She hadn’t been feeling well all week, which might account for her prickliness. Not that she’d complained to anyone, but he’d noticed.
“Okay.” He shrugged one shoulder. “No joking.”
Finally. A smile from her, though it was a small one. Even so, a powerful jolt shot through Cole. She really was lovely. Vivid green eyes, reddish-brown hair reaching well past her shoulders and twin dimples combined to give her an irresistible girl-next-door appeal.
No surprise she kept that bubbly personality under wraps. Otherwise, she’d be fighting the guys off right and left.
“I was wondering. If you weren’t busy later...” She let the sentence drop.
“I’m not busy.” Cole leaned closer, suddenly eager. “What do you have in mind?”
Could she have had a change of heart? They weren’t supposed to see each other again socially or bring up their one moment of weakness. According to Vi, it had been a mistake. A rash action resulting from two shots of tequila each, a crowded dance floor and both of them weary of constantly fighting their personal demons.
Cole didn’t necessarily agree. Sure, the road was not without obstacles. As one of the ranch owners, he was her boss. On the other hand, she oversaw his work while he learned the ropes. Confusing and awkward and a reason not to date.
But incredible lovemaking and easy conversation didn’t happen between just any two people. He and Vi had something special, and he’d have liked to see where it went, obstacles be damned.
Strange, he hadn’t given her a second thought before their “mistake.” One moment on a dance floor and, boom, everything had changed. A shame she didn’t feel the same.
Unless she did and was better at hiding it? The possibility warranted consideration.
“We need to, um, talk.” She closed her eyes and, pressing a hand to her belly, swallowed with obvious difficulty.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just this darn stomach flu.”
He was becoming concerned. Her bout with the flu had been hanging on far too long. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“Maybe.” She squeezed her eyes shut, appearing to be fighting another wave of nausea.
“Are you sure you feel all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me put Hotshot up. I’ll return the steers later.” They’d be fine for the time being, as there was both a metal shade covering and a water tank in the corral. “Give me ten minutes.”
She nodded, and he led the horse to the gate, expecting her to be standing there. By the time he opened the latch, however, Vi was gone. He caught sight of her running across the open area toward the horse stables.
Cole frowned. She was certainly in a hurry. A big hurry.
He walked toward the stables, Hotshot following along. The closer he got, the more his concern mounted. She was normally healthy as a, well, as a horse.
Entering the stables, he started down the aisle. Where had she gone? There weren’t many places to choose from. He settled on the tack room as the most logical one. If she wasn’t there, he could at least tether Hotshot to the post outside the door while he searched elsewhere.
Horses nickered as they went by, some of them stretching their long necks for a sniff or a nip at Hotshot’s hind quarters. He took the attention in stride, displaying yet another good quality.
Cole tied Hotshot to the post and opened the tack room door. It was dark inside, and no one answered when he called out. Maybe Vi had headed to the house. He started back down the aisle, only to stop short at the sound of retching and choking.
“Vi? Is that you?”
He followed the sound three stalls down to the only empty one in the entire stables. Vi was there, bent at the waist, her long hair forming a silky curtain that shielded her face.
“Whoa. Are you okay?”
She coughed and held out a hand as if to ward him off. “Leave me alone.”
Like hell he would. Cole strode forward and reached her just as her knees buckled and she slumped to the ground.
* * *
THIS WASN’T HOW Violet had wanted to start her conversation with Cole, the two of them crammed elbow to elbow in the restroom behind the stables.
He ran the cold water in the tiny sink, wet a paper towel and handed it to her. “Here. You missed a spot.” He motioned to her face.
“I did?” She automatically touched her chin and cringed. Yep, there it was. She quickly wiped her entire face on the chance she’d missed another blob, then tossed the paper towel in the wastebasket. “Sorry.”
“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
She wondered about that. How many times, exactly, had he seen a woman lose her lunch before collapsing in his arms? Did he make a habit of hurrying them to the nearest bathroom and dispensing wet paper towels? Apparently so, because he was fairly adept at it.
“You don’t say.” She tried not to sound curious.
“On the circuit. There’s always one guy who upchucks after finishing his run.”
Riding a bucking bull or horse. Being tossed through the air and landing hard. That would definitely be a reason to throw up.
She reached for the doorknob, utterly humiliated and more than ready to leave.
He waylaid her with a hand on her arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine to me.”
“I’m probably dehydrated.” Violet knew that wasn’t the case, but no way was she telling Cole what ailed her. Not while she wore a vomit-stained shirt and her queasy stomach threatened to revolt again any minute.
Shouldering open the bathroom door, she stepped outside and gulped fresh air like a miner newly released after days in an underground tunnel.
“I’ll take you to the clinic if you want.”
Cole stood beside her. Right beside her. She told herself she was being overly sensitive and that he wasn’t looking her up and down with far too much curiosity.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind.”
Mustang Valley’s one small urgent-care center was open most days. Violet doubted the nurse on duty could do anything for her that she hadn’t done already.
Rubbing her forehead, she inhaled slowly. The air might be fresh, but the sun was hot and stifling. “You don’t have to take me, because I’m not going.”
“Vi, be reasonable. You’re sick.”
“I asked you not to call me that,” she snapped, then gritted her teeth. “Sorry.” She was apologizing a lot today and would again if they continued this conversation.
“You’re right,” he said. “I shouldn’t tease you when you’re not feeling well.”
Did he always have to be so nice to her? Violet suspected he showed her a side of himself he kept from most people. The night they’d spent together was an example of that. He’d been funny and sweet in the bar when they were dancing, attentive and passionate when they’d made love and tender when he’d cradled her in the aftermath.
Were he not Cole Dempsey, they’d probably be dating now. Perhaps optimistic about what the future held for them.
Yet he was Cole Dempsey and wrong for her for too many reasons to list. Not only was he her boss, which in itself was bad enough, but he’d been adamant from the day he arrived that he had no intention of remaining in Mustang Valley. Violet didn’t blame him; she might feel similarly in the same circumstances. But she needed someone who was willing to put down roots.
She certainly wasn’t traipsing after a man whose only interest was the next town and the next rodeo. Not in her condition. Not any time, ever.
Would Cole insist on staying when she told him? Violet had no expectations. The only reason she’d considered saying anything today was because she couldn’t hide her pregnancy much longer. This morning sickness—correction, all-day sickness—was kicking her in the butt and difficult to explain away.
That was new, but not the other symptoms. She’d been pregnant three times previously, back when she was married. She’d miscarried all three times, never making it past week seven. Until now.
She was over eight weeks along. There was no question as to the date of conception or the father’s identity. She’d broken her celibacy streak only once in the past three years, and that was with Cole.
Pregnant from a one-night stand? No one was going to believe her. She hardly believed it herself.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts and returning her to the present.
“That I shouldn’t have eaten chicken salad for lunch.”
She started for her truck, parked near the stables, deciding she’d been wrong to approach Cole today. Better to wait until her second trimester. With her history, the odds of carrying to term weren’t in her favor.
A painful lump promptly formed in Violet’s throat. She wanted this baby with the same intensity she’d wanted all the others. After the last miscarriage, and her marriage falling apart, she’d given up the dream of ever having a big, happy family.
Then, suddenly, she’d been thrown a crumb. A tiny positive sign on the early pregnancy testing wand and a second one a week later, just to be sure.
Could fate be playing another cruel trick on her, or was it answering her prayers at last?
Another wave of nausea struck. Violet reminded herself it was a good sign. The more numerous her symptoms, the stronger they were, the better chance the fetus was thriving. Not like before.
“Are you going home?” Cole asked.
Honestly, could he be any harder to shake loose? “Yes. See you tomorrow.” Her truck was only a few feet away.
He kept pace with her, and she groaned softly. Apparently, she needed to be blunt. Tell him straight out to beat it.
“I can follow you home,” he said. “In case you feel dizzy again.”
She stuffed her hand in her side pocket, searching for her keys. Finding them, she wiped her damp brow. Sweet heaven, it was warm today. “No, you need to put Hotshot away and return those steers to the pasture.”
“Is that an order?” A hint of amusement colored his voice.
If her stomach wasn’t busy trying to empty itself, she might have found his remark funny. As it was, she desperately needed to get away before she lost whatever small amount of her lunch remained.
“Now that you mention it.” She tried to smile. All she accomplished was a trembling of her lower lip.
“Vi, let me help you.”
He sounded sincere and well-intentioned. If only he weren’t waiting for the day when he could hit the road.
“I’m fine.”
She might have maintained her composure if he hadn’t reached for her hand and linked their fingers. She’d always been a sucker for a man who held hands. It was so intimate and personal. Her grandparents had been like that, holding hands until the day Papa Hathaway passed away.
A soft sob broke free, and Violet pressed a fist to her mouth. Besides being sick every waking hour, she was also fast becoming an emotional wreck, crying at the least little thing.
Hormones, she reminded herself. Manufacturing lots of them was another sign that her pregnancy was progressing. Still, hormones were nothing but trouble when facing her baby’s father and not wanting to tell him in case the worst happened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his startling blue eyes filled with concern.
She’d lost herself in those eyes before.
“I’m just tired.” It was true. She slept more than ever, yet struggled to stay awake during the day. “Think I’ll go home and take a nap.”
When she would have opened her truck door, he held fast to her hand, waylaying her. “Don’t take this the wrong way...”
Uh-oh. She suddenly tensed, not liking his tone. “Cole, please. Let me go.” When he didn’t, every nerve in her body went on high alert. “Please,” she repeated.
He hesitated, his thumb caressing the back of her hand, then blurted, “Vi, are you by any chance...pregnant?”
No! He couldn’t have guessed. How could he? Men weren’t that astute. Especially single, childless ones.
Panicking, she brushed him aside. “Why would you even think that?”
“I bunked with a friend and his wife for a few months last summer. She was pregnant. Had a lot of the same stuff wrong with her that you do. Tired. Throwing up. Dizzy. Moody.”
“Moody!”
He outright laughed. “It wasn’t an insult.”
“Glad you find me so funny.” She concentrated on trying to hold down the contents of her stomach. “And, in answer to your accusation, don’t be silly.”
“No reason to get defensive.” He released her hand, only to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was gentle and, there was no mistaking it, affectionate. “If you were pregnant, we’d need to make some decisions.”
He assumed he was the father. She didn’t know whether to be appalled at his arrogance or flattered that he took for granted she didn’t go to bed with just anyone and at the drop of a hat.
“It’s hot.” Sweat pooled between her breasts. “I need to get out of the sun.”
“Let’s go to the ranch house. No one’s home till suppertime.”
She shook her head, which only exacerbated her nausea. “We have nothing to talk about.” Yet.
He stepped closer. “You’re saying there’s no chance you’re pregnant?”
Her reply was to double over and throw up on his boots.
Chapter Two (#u6207a12c-7952-5fe2-a3d5-0b4c0667fd5c)
Cole set a paper plate with a slice of dry toast in front of Vi. “Here you go.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
She watched him intently as he slid in beside her at the kitchen table. Despite her earlier protests, he’d convinced her to accompany him to the ranch house.
“Eat up before it gets cold.”
She did as he told her, delicately nibbling on a corner of the toast and following it with a sip of herbal tea.
“Have you decided what to do?” The question was foremost on his mind. Her answer would dictate the course of their conversation and, possibly, impact the rest of their lives.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“Not asking if I was sure the baby’s yours.”
“We’ve worked together awhile now. I know you’re a person of integrity and would tell me if I wasn’t the father.”
She nodded, examining the toast before taking another bite.
“Too done for you?” he asked.
“It’s perfect.”
“I pride myself on my toast. That and heating canned soup are my specialties.” He offered her a grin.
She sighed. So much for his stab at humor.
“Fortunately for me,” he continued, “Raquel’s a wizard in the kitchen. If not, I’d starve.”
At the mention of his late father’s longtime companion, Vi become even more quiet. Cole didn’t ask why. The Dempsey family dynamics were unusual to say the least and gave him his own share of somber moments.
Odd as it might seem, Cole liked Raquel, though he had plenty of reasons not to. She’d been his father’s mistress for over thirty years, living with him the last twenty-five. She was also the reason Cole’s father had cheated on, then divorced, his mother. The reason he’d ignored his two legitimate sons for most of their lives in favor of their half brother.
But Raquel was kind to Cole and Josh and doted on Josh’s two children, whom she regularly babysat. She insisted on cooking big breakfasts and dinners every day, which the entire family shared, sparing Cole from relying on his own pathetic culinary skills.
She also wasn’t responsible for his father’s actions. August Dempsey had made his own choices. At any time, he could have reached out to his sons and included them in his life. As far as Cole was concerned, the blame lay entirely with his father.
It had been six months since he and Josh had returned to Dos Estrellas, and they were still struggling to find their places. Josh was doing a better job of fitting in than Cole, undoubtedly because he’d met and fallen in love with Cara, a family friend of Raquel’s.
He also didn’t resent their father to the degree Cole did. Josh’s heart was unencumbered and free to love. Cole’s was weighed down and locked tight.
Vi finished her toast and propped an elbow on the table.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything.” She let her hands drop to her lap. “I think Raquel might have figured out I’m pregnant.”
“She’s pretty observant.”
“So are you, apparently.”
“Not really.”
“You guessed easily enough.”
“Well, about that.” At her raised brows, he admitted, “I wasn’t entirely honest with you earlier.”
“You don’t have a friend whose wife was pregnant?”
“That part’s true. He’s a good friend of mine.” Cole shifted. “There was this other pregnant woman.”
Vi stared at him pointedly. “My, you get around.”
He immediately regretted opening his mouth. She might not appreciate this story. “It was a long time ago and doesn’t matter.”
“Then why not tell me?”
Talk had flowed easily between them the night they’d spent together. He’d revealed things about himself only his brother knew. How Cole’s anger at his father, and his mother’s bitterness, had tainted his entire life, prompting him to leave at eighteen and pursue a career in rodeo. The hardships endured during his years on the circuit. The rewards, which were few and far between.
Opening up to her now shouldn’t be so difficult. Yet it was. That night, Vi hadn’t been pregnant with his child. She’d been a woman he was attracted to and wanted to become better acquainted with. A woman he genuinely liked.
And because he liked and respected her, he supposed he owed her the truth about the kind of man she’d gotten herself tangled up with.
“I once dated a woman who was pregnant.”
Violet gasped softly. “You have a child?”
“No.” He shook his head. “She said the baby was mine, and I believed her. After about two months, I found out she was lying.” It happened when he’d almost reconciled himself to the prospect of becoming a father. “Another cowboy was the dad. Seems when he left her high and dry, she went after me. I’d asked her out a few times before, which I suppose made me an easy target.”
“How did you find out?”
“Josh and I were competing at the Frontier Days Rodeo, and one of my buddies clued me in. I told Josh, and he insisted I have a DNA test done before I committed to anything. When I suggested the test, she was furious at first, then came clean.”
“What happened to her and the baby?”
“I saw her only once after we broke up. It was a few months later. She was with another cowboy. Not the baby’s father,” he added.
“Did you talk to him?”
“Naw. I just walked away. Figured it wasn’t any of my business.”
“Weren’t you angry at her for lying?”
“Heck, yeah, I was angry. She told a huge lie. One that was unfair to both me and the baby.”
“She must have been desperate.”
“That doesn’t make what she did right.”
“Of course not.”
“For the record, I’m not angry anymore.” But he hadn’t walked away from the relationship unscathed. In the nine years since, he’d yet to have a committed relationship. “Really, she dodged a bullet. I was twenty-one at the time and constantly broke. Hardly ready for a family or capable of supporting one.”
He doubted he was better father material now. It wasn’t just his occupation—a life on the road tended to be hard on loved ones. He was simply too much like August Dempsey. Selfish and unreliable.
“Are you or Josh going to insist I take a DNA test?” Vi asked.
Cole hesitated. This was a tricky question. He had every right to request the test, and it made good sense, considering what had happened in his previous relationship.
“Let me save you the trouble,” she responded before he could. “I have no problem taking the test as soon as it’s feasible.”
“Okay.” He leaned back in his chair. “Then I guess we can skip it.”
“We’ll see.” She lifted her chin.
She had a lot of backbone, not that he’d thought differently. It was one of the qualities he’d liked about her from the day they’d first met, right here in this kitchen, in fact.
“How about this? I’ll let you decide.”
“Aren’t you accommodating,” she answered flatly.
“Cut me some slack, will you, Vi?” Cole had his faults. Beating around the bush wasn’t one of them. “You’ve had, what, a month to get used to the idea? I’ve had maybe thirty minutes. The fact is, I’m not sure how I feel, what I think or what we should do. I need a little time. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
He immediately regretted his small outburst.
Vi, however, reacted with reason. “Fair enough.”
“I can tell you that I’ll take responsibility for the baby. Pay you support.”
“All right.”
Was she mad? It was hard to tell.
Cole opened his mouth to defend himself, then promptly shut it. God, he sounded just like his father. Not his words so much. Cole remembered very little about his life at Dos Estrellas before his parents divorced. Rather, it was his attitude. August Dempsey had believed paying child support was plenty enough to do right by his sons.
“Are you planning on staying in Mustang Valley?” she asked.
“I rodeo for a living. I have to travel.”
“You aren’t now.”
“I’m not making any money, either. I need an income.” The ranch couldn’t afford to pay any of the brothers a salary. Not while the bills owed totaled more than the revenue. He and his brothers withdrew only enough funds to cover their living expenses, and Cole’s personal savings were almost depleted. “But I’ll return as often as possible. Every few months at least. And be here when the baby’s born.”
Vi turned her head as if she, too, were biting her tongue.
Was visiting every few months too infrequent? Cole had no idea of what a reasonable schedule might be. His father hadn’t made one trip to California and never offered for his sons to visit him. Every few months seemed like a lot in comparison.
A thought suddenly occurred to him. Vi might be expecting him to propose. Should he, or would that be rushing headlong into disaster?
“Can we wait a little while before deciding on the specifics?”
“Actually,” she said, “I agree with you. Another month at least. But not for the reason you think.” She paused. “I was married before. A long time ago.”
“No fooling!”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“No. Heck, no,” he added for emphasis. “You just never said anything.” Neither had Gabe or Raquel, not that Cole had inquired. “Were you married long?”
“Three years.”
“You must have been young.” She was only twenty-eight now. Three years of marriage plus “a long time ago” equaled early twenties by his calculations.
“I was. Young and idealistic and convinced we’d be happy the rest of our lives.”
“What happened?”
Cole discovered he was interested. Very interested. While they’d lain wrapped in each other’s arms, she’d told him about her first crush and having her heart broken in high school. Not one single peep about a husband. Ex-husband, he amended.
“Denny was a real sweetheart,” she said. “Our breakup wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t mine, either. We simply weren’t equipped to deal with the...problems we faced.” Her voice cracked. “Some people never are, regardless of their age or how much they love each other.”
Cole was tempted to take her hand again or run his fingertips along the curve of her cheek. He didn’t, not sure she’d welcome the gesture.
“I got pregnant and lost the baby. Then it happened twice more.” She sniffled. “Denny tried his best to give me what I needed. Love. Support. Encouragement. But it just wasn’t enough—my grief overwhelmed us both. When I finally recovered, it was too late for us. I’d lost him, too.”
“That must have been tough.” Cole hoped Vi saw past his lame response and realized how sorry he felt for her and her then-young husband. “No one should have to go through that.”
“I’m afraid of miscarrying again.” Her teary gaze met his. “Very afraid.”
Oh, the hell with it, he thought, and reached for her hand. “Who wouldn’t be, in your shoes?”
She didn’t pull away and, instead, squeezed his fingers. “I’m also afraid of losing what’s important to me again. That was the hardest part.”
Was she talking about him and their fledgling relationship? Apparently not, for she straightened and gently withdrew her hand from his.
“I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I should know more then.”
“What time?”
“After lunch. Why?”
“Let me drive you.”
Her eyes widened. “There’s no need.”
“I’m the baby’s father.”
“And you didn’t bargain on that. I should have told you I wasn’t using birth control.”
“I shouldn’t have assumed and taken precautions.”
“Cole.”
“Vi, let me go with you.”
“Because it’s the responsible thing to do?”
“Because I want to.”
“People are going to ask questions or make assumptions. Especially Raquel. I’m not ready for that.”
“We’ll come up with a cover story. Stick with the stomach flu and say you’re too dizzy to drive yourself.”
After a moment, she relented. “Okay, you win.”
“This isn’t a contest.”
“Sorry. I’m still getting used to this, too.”
He smiled. “That offer to follow you home still holds.”
“I’m better now,” she insisted. “Why don’t you return those steers to the pasture?”
He decided to follow her, anyway.
They left the ranch house by the kitchen door and walked to the horse stables, where Vi had parked her truck.
Before they parted, he said, “Call or text me later to let me know you’re okay. Humor me,” he added, when she started to object.
True, Cole was still grappling with impending fatherhood, but he had no doubts of his fondness for Vi or his concern for her well-being. He’d also bet money she harbored a similar fondness for him.
With luck, it might be enough to get them through the coming months, or possibly years.
* * *
VIOLET PASSED THE clipboard holding her completed medical forms over the counter to the receptionist, along with the pen she’d used.
“Do you have your insurance card?” the woman asked, more efficient than pleasant. She accepted the card Violet gave her and made a copy before returning it.
“You have a thirty-dollar co-pay,” the receptionist informed her. Once the transaction was complete, she said, “Go ahead and take a seat. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”
Violet didn’t ask how long that might be. She’d been seeing Dr. Medina for eight years, long before her first pregnancy. In all that time, nothing in the office had changed. Not the neutral decor, not the generic furniture and definitely not the long wait times. Even the vase of silk flowers on the reception counter was the same.
On second thought, there was one big difference, and he sat in the corner, cowboy hat balanced on his lap. Every few seconds, one of the other two noticeably pregnant patients cast him a glance. An admiring one.
Understandable, Violet supposed. Cole had cleaned up for the appointment, donning what appeared to be a fairly new Western-cut shirt and his best jeans. He looked...handsome. She could admit that. Much the same as he’d looked that night in the Poco Dinero Bar when he’d sauntered over and joined her at the table she shared with her friends, the local grain supply rep and his wife.
Heaving a sigh, Vi plunked down in the chair beside Cole and propped her purse in front of her. If she was hoping to use it as a shield, she’d need something a lot bigger. A thick panel, maybe. Or simply distance.
She could quite literally feel him. Violet wasn’t a romantic and, thanks to her parents’ three-decades-long miserable marriage, she didn’t subscribe to the theory of soul mates. But there was something about Cole that caused her to be acutely aware whenever he was in the same room. The sensation intensified when they were close and, she was certain of it, accounted for her weakness that night in the bar.
He was a competent dancer. Quite good, actually. She hadn’t expected him to smoothly glide her across the crowded dance floor. Neither had she expected her insides to melt when he held her tight during the slow numbers.
She’d been prepared for nothing more intimate than a good-night hug in the parking lot at the end of the evening, but Cole had had other ideas and pulled her into his arms for a kiss.
An amazing kiss. Surprised at first, she’d quickly surrendered. Apparently, she’d invited him home, because the next thing she knew, they were both in the backseat of her friends’ SUV, the lights of town passing by in a blur.
It was while she’d driven him to his truck the next morning that they’d talked and mutually agreed to forget what had happened.
Wait a minute. That wasn’t quite accurate. She’d done all the talking. Cole had gone along with her without adding much to the conversation.
“Everything okay?” he suddenly asked.
“Just waiting my turn.”
“How much was the co-pay? I’ll reimburse you.”
At least he had the decency to speak in a low voice. “Can we talk about this later?”
“I’m paying,” he answered, his tone implying there’d be no further discussion.
She stood up, strode over to the periodical rack and grabbed a magazine on pregnancy. Years ago, she’d subscribed to this same one and had saved the back issues, storing them in a credenza drawer. After the third miscarriage, she’d burned every copy in her backyard fire pit.
Returning to her chair, she began flipping the magazine pages, barely noticing the ads and articles.
What had she been thinking, agreeing to let Cole accompany her? She was tired; that must be it. And sick. She’d been in no physical condition to put up a fight. Though today she actually felt pretty good and had managed not to lose her breakfast or her lunch.
She sneaked a glance at him, certain he had nothing whatsoever to do with her improved health.
“Would you like me to come with you?” he asked.
“Into the exam room?” She drew back in alarm. “Absolutely not.”
He tensed.
All right, she’d overreacted. But if the doctor delivered bad news, and that was a distinct possibility, Violet didn’t want Cole there to witness her emotional breakdown.
What if the doctor delivered good news? She was two months along, after all. Well, then she’d relay the information to Cole and they’d continue as they’d previously decided, not telling anyone until she reached her second trimester.
Even then, she’d insist on informing only close family and friends. Violet refused to take chances. Most people, though kind and well-intentioned, didn’t have a clue about what she was going through. Their sympathy when she’d miscarried had worsened her grief rather than relieved it.
“Perhaps another time,” she offered by way of apology.
“Next time,” he countered.
His response thoroughly rattled her.
A quick check confirmed the one remaining patient was occupied with her phone and not paying them any attention.
“I thought you said you haven’t figured out what to do yet. But you’re planning to come with me to every appointment?”
He bent his head close to hers and spoke softly, yet deliberately. “I’m concerned about you and your health.”
“Pardon me, but I’m confused.”
“Not to steal your words, but can we talk about this later?”
“Fine.” She went back to reading the magazine.
They waited another fifteen minutes when a nurse finally appeared in the doorway leading to the exam rooms. “Ms. Hathaway? This way, please.”
Violet stood and would have gone if not for a gentle tug on her hand. It was Cole.
“Good luck.”
Her insides melted, just as they had on the dance floor. For a moment, she wished he was concerned about more than her health. Enough to reconsider his plans of returning to the rodeo circuit.
He continued to occupy her thoughts as she walked down the corridor, throughout her weigh-in and blood pressure reading and when the nurse left her alone to change into the paper gown.
What kind of father would Cole make? He wasn’t always caustic and abrupt. When he wanted, he had the ability to be sweet and tender and so very charming. She’d been the recipient of those qualities before and had basked in them.
If only their circumstances were different. What then? Dating? Moving in together? Getting married? Violet wasn’t sure she wanted any of that. They really didn’t know each other well.
Once under way, the exam progressed quickly. Violet found herself watching and listening intently to Dr. Medina for even the tiniest indication that something might be wrong. There was none. The other woman remained chipper throughout the exam, telling Violet that all was well and exactly as it should be.
“Ready for a peek at your baby?”
Her words startled Violet, and she almost refused “Yes. I am.”
“Because your pregnancy is high risk, we’ll be doing a transvaginal ultrasound today.” When the probe was in place, Dr. Medina pointed to the monitor screen at Violet’s right. “There’s your baby.”
She adjusted the volume, and Violet heard a rapid beat matching the small pulsating heart visible in the middle of the fetus. All at once, she started to cry, unable to stop herself. She hadn’t been far enough along during her other pregnancies to hear or see the heartbeat.
Dr. Medina smiled sweetly and handed Violet a tissue, her curly silver hair framing her face like a wreath. “Try not to worry too much. It won’t do you or the baby any good.”
Violet wiped at her tears. “It’s hard not to worry.”
“I’d like to see you in two weeks.”
Immediately, Violet feared the worst. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all. Just a precaution.” Dr. Medina returned the probe to its holder. Next, she pressed a series of buttons on the ultrasound machine and printed a picture, which she gave to Violet. “Next month, when the baby’s bigger, I’ll send you to the imaging center for a more comprehensive ultrasound. They’ll make you a CD.”
Violet clutched the picture to her chest. She liked the sound of “next month.”
Dr. Medina helped her to a sitting position, her hand remaining on Violet’s shoulder to comfort her. “Call me if you have even the slightest cramping.”
“All right.” Violet had already programed the doctor’s number into her phone’s speed dial.
“Remind me again—you work at a cattle ranch, right?”
“Yes.”
“Outdoors?”
“Almost always.”
“And very physical.”
“Comes with the territory.” There’d been times when the demands of her job had been an escape for Violet. A cure for her various woes. Miscarriages. Failed marriage. Parents always arguing and trying to coerce her into choosing sides.
“I’m recommending you take it easy,” Dr. Medina said. “Rest every day, and by rest I mean lying down, for at least two to three hours. Absolutely no lifting and no strenuous activities. That includes horseback riding.”
Violet instinctively pressed a hand to her belly. She’d do nothing that might harm this baby. “I’ll talk to my boss. Bosses. I have some vacation time coming. Maybe I can work something out.”
“Sitting at a desk is fine, and I encourage you to walk. Exercise is beneficial as long as you don’t go overboard.”
They talked awhile longer about diet and prenatal vitamins and various dos and don’ts, most of which Violet already knew. Dr. Medina didn’t mention the baby’s father, though she was aware of Violet’s divorce.
Violet bit back the urge to inquire whether having a different father would improve her chances. They’d never figured out the cause of her miscarriages. Perhaps it had been genetic.
“See you in two weeks.” Dr. Medina closed the door behind her when she left.
Violet took a moment to say a quiet prayer of thanks before climbing off the table and getting dressed. Her legs wobbled and her knees shook, as much from relief as nerves. In the waiting room, Cole glanced up when she entered, then stood nearby while she scheduled her next appointment with the receptionist.
“Do you need a reminder card?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The woman completed the card and handed it to Violet, her eyes on Cole and filled with questions. She’d worked there for years and probably remembered Denny.
Violet tensed. It wasn’t anyone’s business who came with her to her appointments.
Cole didn’t bring up her exam until they were on the road. “How did it go?”
She proceeded to tell him the basic details, but to her horror, started crying again when she got to the part about the ultrasound.
Cole reached across the console and took her hand. “I bet that was pretty neat to see.”
Damn. Why did he have to be so nice?
“I have a picture. I’ll make you a copy.” She felt another sob coming on and countered it with a change in subject. “I need to set up a meeting with you and your brothers. As soon as possible. It’s about my job.”
Chapter Three (#u6207a12c-7952-5fe2-a3d5-0b4c0667fd5c)
Cole pressed on the clutch and manually shifted the tractor into second gear. It was a John Deere, circa 1990, and groaned like a grumpy old man before the wheels finally gained traction. Hooked behind the tractor was a flatbed trailer loaded with hay. Cole turned the steering wheel hard to the right and chugged in the direction of the horse stables.
He was in charge of today’s afternoon feeding. The job normally fell to one of the hands, but they were working with a skeleton crew today, in part because of Vi’s absence. She’d taken off early to rest—something only Cole knew about—and to prepare for their five-thirty meeting.
She’d requested to speak with all three brothers. Again, Cole alone knew her reasons. She planned to tell them about her pregnancy and then request a modified work week that included fewer hours and light duty.
The meeting was scheduled for the only time Josh and Gabe were available—right before dinner. Nowadays, the demands on both men were many, and they were frequently gone from the ranch.
Josh had full custody of his two children while their mother, fresh from a sixty-day stint in drug rehab, proved her ability to remain sober. He and his girlfriend, Cara, were in the market for a new house and went out looking every chance they got. Cole expected the two of them to announce their engagement any minute, which was fine by him. He liked Cara. She made Josh happy and loved his children.
Gabe, too, was working his tail off. He divided his days between Dos Estrellas and their nearest neighbors, the Small Change Ranch. There, he helped his fiancée’s Parkinson’s-stricken father manage their large cattle operation. Gabe would be moving to the Small Change soon and assuming even more responsibilities. His marriage to Reese was scheduled to take place this spring, and they were already steeped in preparations.
Cole did his best to help out, filling in for both brothers when and where he could. Though he was a poor substitute for Raquel, he even babysat his niece and nephew on occasion.
Speak of the devil!
Rounding the corner, Cole caught sight of his three-year-old nephew not thirty feet in front of him, and hit the brakes hard. Dirt rose in a cloud as the tires skidded to a stop, and the heavily loaded flatbed trailer lurched, threatening to jackknife.
“What the...” Cole pushed his hat back and wiped his damp brow.
The boy walked alone, leading a small horse named Hurry Up. Like Hotshot, the mustang was a rehabilitated rescue from Cara’s sanctuary. Tagging after them was a five-month-old Australian shepherd pup, a recent addition to the Dempsey household.
Cole cut the tractor engine, climbed down and jogged over to his nephew. “Hey, cowboy. What are you doing?”
Nathan stopped to gaze up at him. “Hi, Uncle Cole.” He’d recently celebrated a birthday and since then had been talking up a storm, his vocabulary expanding daily. “I walking Hurry Up.”
The horse and pup dutifully waited, the horse sniffing the dry ground, the pup chewing on a bent stick. Cole and Josh had once owned a horse and pup like these two when they were young. In Cole’s opinion, there were no better playmates.
Hold on a minute. When did he start having opinions about kids’ playmates? Maybe since he’d found out he might be a parent soon.
“Where’s your dad?” he asked.
“Dunno.”
Cole glanced around, not spotting his brother anywhere. Had Nathan wandered off? It wouldn’t be the first time. The boy was mischievous with a capital M, a quality he definitely inherited from his father’s side of the family. Both Josh and Cole had been notorious troublemakers in their day.
What if he had a son? Would the boy be a Dempsey through and through or more like Vi? Come to think of it, she’d probably been a bit of a troublemaker, too.
Perhaps the better question was what kind of father would Cole be? His few times babysitting hardly qualified him.
He could no doubt learn a lot from his older brother. Josh hadn’t started out as the best of dads. Like Cole, he’d been a professional cowboy and away more than he was home. But after gaining sole custody of his two kids, Josh had stepped up, filling the role of single parent as if born to it.
Cole patted Nathan on the head. The boy wore a tattered cowboy hat not unlike his own, though Cole’s fit better. “I think we should find your dad.”
Nathan insisted on leading Hurry Up. They got about fifty feet before Josh came running out of the horse stable, his year-old daughter, Kimberly, bouncing in his arms, his expression panicked. Spotting them, he drew up short.
Cole could see his brother struggling not to curse. He also saw the intense relief coursing through him. “Nathan! Criminy, son. How many times have I told you not to walk off like that?”
Nathan didn’t appear the least bit remorseful. “Hi, Daddy. I walking Hurry Up.”
The pup, thinking it was playtime, loped awkwardly over to Josh on gangly legs, the stick clenched in its mouth.
Cole waited for his brother to catch up. As they neared, his pretty little niece reached out her arms and babbled unintelligibly.
“You mind?” Josh handed over his daughter before Cole had a chance to reply.
“Hello, gorgeous.” Cole balanced the little girl against his chest as he’d seen Josh do.
She babbled some more and patted his cheeks. It was cute. Maybe he wouldn’t mind having a daughter.
Josh went down on one knee in front of his son. “Nathan, you can’t leave without telling me. Do you understand?”
Nathan stared at his father, then slowly nodded. Cole suspected the boy didn’t understand at all and was simply placating his dad.
Cole kept his niece busy and let father and son talk for several minutes. Eventually, Josh stood, emitting a long, low groan of frustration. “Kids,” he said, as if that explained everything.
Before today, Cole might have answered, “I wouldn’t know.” Now, he kept his mouth shut.
After lifting Nathan onto the horse’s back, Josh took Kimberly from Cole and plunked her in front of her brother. The two often went for rides, though lately Nathan had been less inclined to share, wanting Hurry Up for himself.
Josh gathered the lead rope in his hands. “What do you think the meeting’s about today?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
“Gabe figures she’s going to ask for some time off, what with her parents divorcing.”
“He could be right.”
Josh studied Cole intently. “You know.”
“Why do you say that?” Now would probably be a good time to return to feeding.
“You’re hedging. You don’t hedge.”
“I promised Vi I wouldn’t say anything. Violet,” he quickly amended. Using a nickname implied intimacy.
His brother wasn’t fooled. “You two have gotten friendly lately.”
“We get along.”
“Get along or get along?”
“What are you implying?”
“Leroy said he saw you and Violet at the Poco Dinero a couple months back.”
“We danced some and shared a ride home.”
“Must have been a long ride. You didn’t come back till morning. I didn’t think much of it till Leroy said something.”
Cole thought he might have to find the talkative ranch hand and tell him to mind his own business, then decided bringing up that night would only make things worse.
“Want to go, Daddy,” Nathan whined impatiently. He didn’t like waiting.
“In a minute, son. I’m talking to Uncle Cole.”
“Don’t stay on my account,” Cole said, seeing an opportunity to escape further scrutiny.
“Come on. Walk with me.”
“I’m in the middle of feeding.”
“The horses can wait ten minutes.”
Cole would have manufactured another excuse, but he suddenly didn’t want to. He and his brother had always been close, sharing everything, including careers and confidences. Cole could count on Josh to keep Vi’s secret. Certainly for the next hour.
Besides, the fact was he could use some advice as well as a chance to unload. He’d grown tired of having only himself for counsel.
He and Josh set out on a course that circled the horse stables, Josh leading Hurry Up and his two young riders. The kids weren’t interested in the grown-ups, allowing Cole and Josh to talk relatively freely.
Cole cut right to the chase. “Vi’s pregnant.”
“You’re kidding!” Josh gaped at him. “Is it yours?”
“She told me Monday.” Cole gave a brief account of what had happened then and yesterday at the doctor’s office.
When he was done, Josh asked, “And you were together only the one night?”
“She didn’t think we should date. Said it wasn’t professional. That, and I think she considers me a flight risk, ready to leave at the drop of a hat.”
“What are you going to do?”
“We haven’t decided. She wants to wait.”
“That must be why she called the meeting. To tell us she’s pregnant.”
“She’s worried she might miscarry—it’s happened before. Three times, back when she was married.” Cole was growing fed up with circling the stables. His brother, however, appeared not to notice. Did people automatically start putting their children first when they became a parent? Would Cole? “Her doctor gave her strict orders to rest every day and not work so hard. Do you suppose the ranch has a policy regarding medical leave?”
“No idea. Gabe will have to answer that. If not, we’ll figure something out. She’s a good employee. I can’t imagine not trying to help her.”
Cole agreed. Vi had told him she’d been just eighteen when she came to Dos Estrellas, the summer after high school. The Dempseys had taken her in, giving her a home as well as a job. Raquel loved her like family, as had Cole’s late father.
Why hadn’t he shown Cole and Josh that kind of love? Was the estrangement really all their mother’s fault? She may have perpetuated it, but their dad hadn’t fought it, either.
“Why do you think Dad hated us?” Cole hadn’t intended to ask the question, it just slipped out.
“He didn’t,” Josh answered, in a somewhat tired voice. “The problem was him and Mom and their inability to get along.”
Cole suspected there’d been much more going on, but let the subject drop. Josh had reconciled his differences with their father a while ago and didn’t hang on like Cole. Perhaps because coming to Dos Estrellas had resulted in a safe, stable home for his children, a woman he loved and a job he’d come to believe was his calling.
Unfortunately, Cole was of a completely different mind. He liked cattle ranching well enough and someday might make it his living, but he still preferred busting broncs, training horses and chasing the sun to the next town.
“Are you remotely ready to be a dad?” Josh asked. “You haven’t ever been the settling down kind.”
“I want to be ready.”
“You’re going to have someone depending on you. Someone who can’t do the simplest of things for him or herself.”
Cole glanced over his shoulder at his niece and nephew and tried to see himself as their parent. It wasn’t easy. He’d been something of a drifter for the past twelve years.
“What if you made Mustang Valley your home base instead of Grandpa and Grandma’s?
Josh’s suggestion was a reasonable one. Except for one problem.
“I’m not sure Vi wants me here. She made it clear she’d rather go it alone than have a part-time dad in the picture.”
“She has a point. I tried that, and it didn’t work. I wound up with an addict for a wife and two children who suffered from neglect. If you’re not willing to fully commit, you might as well leave Violet to raise the baby by herself.”
Cole heard what his brother said, and also what he didn’t say: that if he failed to commit, he’d be just like their father, a man who’d abandoned his children.
Cole didn’t think he could stand another similarity between them. There were already too many.
He kept watch for Vi’s arrival, staying busy in the horse stables after finishing with the afternoon feeding. At last her pickup truck pulled into the driveway leading to the ranch.
He ignored the rush of relief coursing through him, along with the thrill of anticipation, and hurried to catch up. She was on her way to the house for their meeting. Her meeting.
“Hey, not so fast.”
Glancing back, she stopped and waited. Cole took it as a good sign that she didn’t race ahead.
“How are you doing?” He fell into step beside her.
“All right, I guess.”
Her face told a different story. It had a pinched, exhausted look made worse by the dark circles beneath her eyes.
Cole repressed a sudden urge to wrap her in his arms. Or maybe not so sudden. He’d felt the same when she’d told him about her pregnancy. If anything, this protectiveness was becoming a habit.
“Did you get a chance to rest?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“Too keyed up?”
“I’m not nervous.”
He had his doubts. This couldn’t be easy for her; it was a lot for anyone to handle.
“Did you at least put your feet up for a while?”
“I did.” She smiled, though it was difficult to interpret. She might have been pleased Cole cared, or she might be placating him.
He noticed she held a spiral notebook in the crook of her arm. Had she organized her thoughts? He could picture her sitting in her living room recliner, feet up and furiously scribbling away.
“It’s going to be fine,” he assured her. “There’s nothing Gabe won’t do for you.”
“What about you and Josh? Your votes count just as much as Gabe’s.”
“You know how I feel.”
“Do I?”
“You’re a great employee. You deserve time off.”
“I see.” She didn’t mask the disappointment in her voice.
“What do you want me to say, Vi? That I care about you and what happens? I do. I hope you have this baby, and I hope it’s born healthy. I’ll do my best to be a good father and a good provider. Whatever you need from me. But you said yourself, you want to wait.”
“You’re right. That wasn’t fair.” She started to say more, then faltered, seemingly at a loss for words.
“This is new territory for both of us,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, it is.” This time, her smile was genuine. “Two months ago, I wouldn’t have thought I’d be having this conversation with you.”
“Me, either.”
His response might have been a little too strong, for she grew abruptly quiet. Great. Well, too late now. They were at the ranch house.
They entered through the kitchen door, Cole waiting for Vi to go first. Raquel wouldn’t be attending the meeting, but she’d put out an array of refreshments. On the counter were pitchers of iced tea and cold water, along with a basket of warm, fresh-baked sopapillas, and honey to drizzle on them.
Cole picked up a paper plate and lifted the cover keeping the sopapillas warm. Having no shame, he took two.
“Want one?” he asked Vi.
She grimaced. “No, thanks.”
“Still nauseous?”
“It comes and goes.” She hesitated a moment, then touched his arm in a brief but personal gesture. “See you in the meeting.”
Cole watched her walk away, head held high and shoulders squared as if steeling herself for what lay ahead.
No sense waiting. Holding his plate of sopapillas, he cut across the kitchen to the dining room. That was where most meetings were conducted, along with Sunday and holiday dinners, which Raquel hosted with pleasure.
The house also had an office that once belonged to Cole’s father. Before Gabe became engaged to Reese and started helping at the Small Change, he’d handled all the ranch finances and record keeping, sitting behind the desk their father once occupied.
In recent months, Josh had taken over the task. Cole rarely set foot in the office. He could barely balance his own personal checking account. The ranch finances, already shaky, would suffer further if he were to get involved.
Cole’s brothers and Vi were already gathered in the brightly lit dining room by the time he wandered in. The three floor-to-ceiling windows let in the late-afternoon sun. If not for the air conditioner humming away, the room would have heated to an unbearable temperature.
Everyone glanced up at Cole’s entrance, each of them wearing a different expression. Vi’s was carefully contained, Josh’s piqued with interest and Gabe’s a mixture of mild confusion and curiosity. Then again, he was the only one who didn’t know why Vi had called the meeting.
Cole took the seat beside Gabe and across from Vi. Josh sent him a private look that Cole interpreted as “Good luck.”
Gabe caught the exchange, and his confusion visibly increased. Cole decided to let him stew. It would be better for all if he played dumb. The meeting was Vi’s to run and the news hers to break. He was also still learning his way with his half brother. They’d become friends, which was a huge step from when Cole first arrived at Dos Estrellas. But they weren’t close. Yet.
Gabe had loved their father, and why not? He was the son who’d grown up with August Dempsey. The son their father had taken under his wing and taught the cattle business, and who’d stayed by their father’s side those long eighteen months while he’d been ill. The son who’d been promised the ranch.
For that reason, Gabe hadn’t liked Cole and Josh when they first met, seeing them as unwelcome intruders. But necessity had a way of making allies of would-be enemies. For their own different and very personal reasons, the three brothers had agreed to join forces and run the ranch together for a year. Hopefully, by then it would be operating in the black.
Cole had been waiting patiently for that day, when he’d be able to get his share of their inheritance and leave. With Vi’s pregnancy, his plan might change.
Sweat seeped into his shirt collar, and he absently tugged at it. Was he on edge? Hell, yes. This wasn’t just any family meeting. Vi was getting ready to rock their world.
In response to that thought, more sweat saturated his collar. He hadn’t felt this way since the last time he’d ridden a bull.
Vi turned to a page in her notebook and glanced at the sheet. “If everyone’s ready, we can get started.”
Her statement was met with nods of agreement.
“Let’s do it,” said Gabe.
She swallowed. “I want to thank you for giving me some time off recently. As you know, my parents are getting a divorce, and it’s not going amicably.”
“If you need more time, take it.” Gabe relaxed, no doubt thinking this was the reason for the meeting.
“I do, actually. And thank you.”
“No problem.”
“But not to visit them in Seattle. I, um, have some news. My own news. It’s a bit unexpected. For everyone.” She paused and swallowed again, careful to keep her features neutral. “I’m... I’m pregnant.”
Gabe’s jaw went slack, and he stared, dumbfounded. Josh tried to act surprised and did a passable job.
“You’re right,” Gabe said, and raked his fingers through his dark hair. “This is unexpected. I guess congratulations are in order.”
Vi attempted a smile. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re going to want time off when the baby’s born?” Gabe was clearly struggling to understand. He shot a glance at both Cole and Josh. Neither of them made a comment.
“I saw my doctor yesterday,” Vi said. “She recommended—insisted, really—that I work fewer hours and rest more.” Finally, she glanced briefly at Cole and Josh. “As Gabe knows, I have a history of miscarriages. I’m hoping you’ll agree to let me work half days for the foreseeable future. Naturally, you don’t have to pay me for the time off.”
Gabe didn’t hesitate. Neither did he confer with Cole or Josh. “Of course. And we’ll give you full pay.”
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“You aren’t asking. We’re offering. And that includes after the baby’s born.”
Cole noticed Josh struggling to stay quiet. Dos Estrellas wasn’t in a financial position to carry an employee who wasn’t working full-time. Yet Vi had been with the ranch for over ten years. She deserved special consideration for her loyalty.
“No.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head emphatically. “I won’t accept pay if I’m not working. But I do have vacation and sick time coming.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Gabe said.
“If I...if anything happens, then of course I’ll come back to work full-time as soon as I’m able.”
“Nothing will happen.” Gabe didn’t ask her to elaborate. “When are you having the baby?”
“Seven months. December.”
Gabe furrowed his brows in concentration, as people did when they were mentally counting backward. He, too, must have heard the gossip from Leroy, for he looked directly at Cole and didn’t appear happy.
Cole waited for Vi to say something, naming him as the father, or for Gabe to straight out ask. Neither happened.
Vi continued after consulting her notebook. “The doctor says I can still work. Just no riding and no heavy lifting. I realize that describes about half my job. But I can still run errands, do the paperwork, make phone calls, meet with the vet. I can either work mornings or afternoons or split my shift with a break in the middle. Whatever’s convenient for you.”
“Let’s see how it goes,” Gabe said. “Take each week, each day as it comes.”
“I want to make this as easy on everyone as possible.” She read from her notebook, then cleared her throat. “I have a suggestion, if no one minds.”
“Fire away.”
“Since you’re busy at the Small Change and Josh is tied up covering for you, I thought maybe Cole could take over some of my duties.”
“Me?” He sat up straight. “I’m not qualified to be livestock manager.”
“I’d still be in charge,” Vi said. “Oversee your work like I do now.”
“We’ll all help you, Cole,” Gabe said, as if it was a done deal.
“Sounds good to me,” added Josh.
“Now, wait a minute—”
Gabe cut him off. “You’re the best candidate. You have the most time and you’re one of the ranch owners.”
Cole didn’t like being reminded he had a responsibility to the ranch. He damn well knew it.
“We could possibly find someone else,” Vi said. “I know one or two people looking for work. But you’d have to pay them, and can you really afford another expense?”
Gabe turned to face Cole. “We can’t.”
For a moment, Cole pictured himself flying out of the chute on the back of a bronc, ten feet off the ground, with one hand holding on to the bucking strap for dear life. His harsh breathing and pounding heart drowned out the cheers of the crowd. Then, all at once, the buzzer sounded.
Slowly, the picture faded as reality set in. There’d been so many changes to his life recently. Moving to Dos Estrellas. Cattle ranching. Vi and the baby.
Something told him this was only the beginning. If he was going to back out, now was the time.
“All right. I’ll do it.”
Chapter Four (#u6207a12c-7952-5fe2-a3d5-0b4c0667fd5c)
Cole surveyed the manmade pond, noting that the water level had dropped two inches in the past two days. A total of fifteen inches in the past two weeks. Four months ago, a decrease in the level would have been expected, as Arizona had experienced its worst drought in decades.
But the drought had ended in February with a record-breaking deluge, followed by two more storm fronts passing through. Water levels shouldn’t be a problem. The other livestock ponds on Dos Estrellas were at capacity, providing an ample supply of fresh water for the herds, both mustangs and cattle. The cause of this pond’s depletion had yet to be determined, and Cole didn’t have a clue.
He’d been relieving Vi of her more demanding duties for just under a week, having heard the concerns about the pond before today but not paying much attention. Now he was in charge, which was like expecting a first grader to solve a complex calculus equation.
He could call Vi and ask her opinion, except he didn’t want to appear incompetent. Which he was, at least as far as livestock ponds went.
“Here. Check this out.” Joey, one of the hands Cole frequently worked with, squatted next to the pond’s edge and pointed to a spot in the dark, murky water.
Cole tied Hotshot to a low-hanging paloverde branch. If he didn’t, the horse would probably gallop off to join the mustangs grazing peacefully over the next ridge. This pond was in the heart of Cara’s sanctuary, close to where Cole had first glimpsed Hotshot. He’d been impressed with the horse’s potential, enough to seek out Cara the moment he returned to the ranch and ask to buy him.
She’d refused, striking a deal with him instead. In exchange for Hotshot, Cole helped her train other mustangs, preparing them for either adoption or use in her equine therapy program. Designed to benefit special-needs children, the program was officially launching at the end of the month.
Incredibly, it had already generated enough income from early enrollments to support the sanctuary through the end of the year, including paying the ranch a modest monthly rent. Little by little, they were chipping away at the mountain of bills, reducing it to a small hill.
If only Cole had more time. Training horses, especially roping and cutting horses, was his favorite pastime, next to rodeoing. But covering for Vi had become his first priority. She continued to be sick most days and was always tired.
“What is it?” he asked, going over to stand beside Joey.
“A leak.”
“You’re joking.”
“’Fraid not.”
“A pond can leak?” Cole had never heard of such a thing. He studied the spot Joey had indicated and noticed a small whirlpool, like water draining from a sink basin. Now and then a bubble or two rose to the surface.
“Somehow, the gravel bed’s developed a crack,” Joey said. “Water’s seeping into the surrounding ground.”
Joey was all of twenty-three years old but had been a ranch hand since he was fifteen and knew more than Cole could ever hope to learn. He was also one of two hands who hadn’t quit when Cole’s father died. Another reason to respect the young man.
“How does that happen?” Cole asked.
“One of the horse’s feet could’ve punctured the bed.”
He’d seen horses standing in the ponds, the water reaching their flanks. One rangy old fellow liked to swim. With enough force, it was possible a sharp hoof could puncture the bed.
“How do we fix it?”
“My grandpa used to pour borax into his ponds.”
“Isn’t that a detergent?”
Joey laughed, making Cole feel even more ignorant. “Technically, it’s a mineral. Depending on how big the crack is, borax can plug it.”
“You think the leak’s caused by a crack?” Cole had learned only this morning that there was a complicated engineering system to these ponds. A faulty valve or rupture in the pipe could result in a costly repair, requiring the pond to be drained and reexcavated.
“Good place to start,” Joey said. “And if the borax doesn’t work, you haven’t spent much money.”
Cole was all for economizing. The ranch couldn’t afford another expense, one possibly in the tens of thousands of dollars. While the pond was within the sanctuary boundaries, the land technically belonged to Dos Estrellas. Cost of repairs fell to the brothers.
“Guess I know where I’ll be going this afternoon.” He pushed to his feet. “Will you be ready to ride out again in the morning? Six sharp.”
“Sure.” Without confirming that they were done, Joey walked to where he’d left his horse tied.
Cole had the impression he’d been dismissed. Not the treatment a boss expected from his employee. Then again, it was hard to respect a boss who knew less than the employee about the job. The thought unsettled Cole. Funny, he wouldn’t have cared about Joey’s approval a week ago.
They mounted their horses and started out in the direction of the ranch, a good two-and-a-half-mile trek. Typically, they’d have taken the ranch ATVs when inspecting the pastures, but this particular pond was in a hard to reach location, and the vehicles sometimes got stuck in one of the deep ravines. Horses were simply better suited for this terrain.
Besides, Cole preferred traveling by horse. The scenery on this part of the ranch was spectacular. The distant McDowell Mountains, newly covered in a spring blanket of green cacti and brush, rose up to embrace a glorious, vivid blue sky. Pinnacle Peak, identifiable by its distinct angled shape, sat like a turret on a medieval castle.
If it weren’t for the exceedingly warm temperatures, Cole would consider this paradise on Earth. No wonder his great-grandfather Dempsey had taken one look at Mustang Valley and decided it was the place to build the ranch of his dreams and raise his family.
Someday, Dos Estrellas would belong to Cole’s child, Josh’s two and Gabe’s, if he had any. A fifth generation of Dempseys. But only if the ranch began turning a profit again. Otherwise, they’d be forced to sell at a loss, leaving little for the next generation.
Would it really matter? Money, having plenty or doing without, hadn’t made a difference in Cole’s life. All he’d wanted was a father.
What about his own child? If Cole left Mustang Valley, he’d be no better than his dad. Was that the legacy he really wanted to leave behind?
“If the borax doesn’t work,” Joey called to Cole, “Violet has the name of an engineer—”
“Don’t talk to her yet. Let’s give this a try. How long does borax usually take to plug a leak?”
“Days, if we’re lucky. Could be a week or more. May take several tries, depending on the size of the leak. Good thing there’s no rain in the forecast. That will make the pond level readings more accurate.”
He and Joey continued along the winding trail single file, with Cole in the lead. Several of the mustangs grazing nearby lifted their heads to stare. A yearling colt pranced in circles around his mother, then stopped and reared, front hooves pawing the air. The sight might have been taken straight from history, a hundred years ago when wild mustang roamed this valley.
Cole’s heart suddenly stirred. That, too, unsettled him. Why should he care so much about Dos Estrellas? It wasn’t home.
But it was home to the people he cared about. His brother, niece and nephew and, yes, Vi.
As Cole and Hotshot passed a large patch of prickly pear cacti, a covey of quail resting there took flight, the whir of their flapping wings creating a loud noise. Startled, Hotshot lowered his head and started bucking. Cole immediately drew up on the reins, squeezed with his legs and put all his weight in his heels. Evidently, the horse wasn’t as far along in his training as Cole had assumed.
Behind him, he heard Joey shout, “Whoa there,” and hoped the kid’s horse didn’t also spook.
“Easy, boy.” With practiced ease, Cole rode out the bucking spree. Bit by bit, Hotshot quieted. Soon enough, he was standing still, sides heaving and nostrils flaring.
Joey rode up behind him. “Well,” he said, humor coloring his voice. “That was some fine riding. A body might think you rodeoed for a living.”
Cole grinned and adjusted his cowboy hat, which he’d nearly lost during the minor calamity. Then he and Hotshot walked on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
“You miss the life?” Joey asked.
Cole didn’t think before answering. “I do.”
“I hear tell you’re going back.”
That had been the plan. “Might. It all depends.”
“What are you going to do about a roping horse?”
Cole decided Joey wasn’t being rude so much as he was curious, or simply killing time. It was no secret Cole had sold off his four champion roping horses and given the money to Gabe. Some of the younger steers had come down with a highly contagious virus last winter, and Gabe had used the money to purchase antibiotics.
Cole sometimes asked himself why he’d done it. Mostly for Josh. His older brother wanted to stay at Dos Estrellas and needed a home where he could bring his children to live.
But that wasn’t the real reason or the most important one. As much as Cole wanted to be gone from Mustang Valley—had wanted to be gone—he refused to be called a quitter. When he left, it would be with the respect of his family and the ranch employees.
No one, especially Josh and Gabe, would give him that respect if he abandoned Vi and their child.
“I’m hoping Hotshot will prove himself,” Cole said, his thoughts back to the present.
“He’s a fine horse, but he has a long way to go.”
“True enough.” As the past few minutes had demonstrated.
Eventually, he and Joey reached the gate separating the mustang sanctuary from the cattle grazing lands. The herds were constantly moved from section to section in order to conserve grass and allow it to regenerate.
Last week, Cole had helped relocate the pregnant cows in this section from one farther south. Most were due to deliver in late fall or early winter. This he’d learned from Vi, who, despite being a slip of a girl, was practically an expert on cattle. She credited Cole’s father for teaching her.
Once through the gate, Cole and Joey resumed their trek across the section. In the distance, the roofs of the ranch house and outbuildings came into view. Two hills over, cattle grazed, appearing unaffected by the heat.
A cluster of paloverde trees grew to their left in a dry wash that had been full and running three months ago. Birds perched in the treetops, hopping nervously from branch to branch. Cole kept one eye glued to the ground, on the lookout for rattlesnakes and lizards hidden among the rocks.
All at once a low, mournful bellow carried over to them from behind the trees.
Cole drew up on the reins. “What’s that?”
“A cow.” Joey was already turning his horse in the direction of the sound.
Cole followed. “You sure?”
“Trust me, it is.”
Reaching the trees, they dismounted and pushed branches aside to investigate. Joey had been right. The cow stood with her head down, guarding the lifeless body of her prematurely born calf.
“Oh, man,” Cole said, his shoulders slumping. The poor thing never had a chance.
* * *
“YOU STAY HERE with the cow,” Cole told Joey, after they’d taken time to assess the situation. “I’ll ride to the ranch, get my truck and see who’s available to help. We’ll load the calf in the back, and you lead the cow to the ranch. I think the vet should check her out, just to be on the safe side.”
He headed to where Hotshot was tied, trying to remember if the vet’s number was programed into his phone.
“Sounds good,” Joey said.
Both of them had kept a reasonable distance from the cow in case she became aggressive. Her calf may not have survived, but there were no guarantees she’d willingly abandon it.
Finding a patch of shade to escape the sweltering heat, Joey pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Violet.”
Cole ground to a halt. “Don’t do that.”
“Shouldn’t she know? She’s in charge.”
All Cole could think about was how news of the premature calf might upset her. She already struggled with mood swings—her words, not his. News like this would have her leaping out of bed or off the recliner, wherever she happened to be resting, and racing to the rescue.
“I’ll call her,” Cole said, though he wouldn’t until later. Much later.
It was too hot to gallop Hotshot, but that didn’t stop Cole from trotting him the last mile to the ranch. There, he located Leroy, the wrangler who had blabbed about Cole and Vi leaving the bar together, and, handing over the reins, instructed him to look after Hotshot.
“Make sure he’s cooled down before you put him up.”
“Will do.”
“You seen Josh?”
“Said he was going to the house.”
Cole found his brother in the office, staring at the computer screen. He glanced up the second Cole entered. “I swear I’m going cross-eyed staring at these spreadsheets.”
“Forget them. We have a problem.”
Josh stood. Cole was still feeding him details as they climbed into his truck. After a quick stop at the tack room for a plastic tarp, they sped out the gate leading to the pastures and up the dirt road toward the hills, clouds of dust spewing from the rear tires. Minutes later, the road narrowed to a horse trail and the going got rough.
“What are you doing?” Josh asked when Cole drove the truck off the trail and onto rocky, uneven land thick with low-growing vegetation.
“Taking a shortcut.”
“Are you sure about this?” Josh anchored one hand on the dash to keep himself from coming off the seat when they bounced over a rotted tree trunk.
“Hang on,” Cole warned. “There’s a gully ahead.”
Joey was still waiting in the same patch of shade when they arrived, thankfully in one piece. Cole credited his driving skills. Josh had a different opinion.
Together, the three of them devised a plan. Cole would rope the cow. Hopefully, she’d come willingly—she already appeared to be losing interest in the calf. Just to be sure, they’d brought along a bucket of grain as added incentive. As soon as Joey left with the cow, Cole and Josh would take care of the calf.
Cole reached behind the seat for his lariat. He seldom went anywhere without it, a habit he’d formed years ago. Automatically adjusting the size of the loop, he slowly approached the cow, who stared at him with trepidation. About twenty feet away, he stopped. Josh and Joey watched from the truck.

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