Secondhand Cowboy Read online

  3

  By mid-morning the next day, Callum had had his IV removed and been weaned off narcotics, and he felt every ache and pain from the crash.

  He'd been banged up plenty riding bulls on the circuit. Dislocated his shoulder twice, sprained his wrist, his knee. But he'd never hurt like this, from his head to his toes.

  But he asked for the doctor anyway, determined to take the boys home with him. Iris had done enough, watching them overnight.

  And what was she still doing in town anyway? They'd both talked about leaving Redbud Trails back in high school. She'd had plans to go to New York City, had connections through her work with the ballet company in Oklahoma City.

  Surely she hadn't...waited on him?

  He hated the thought that she might have given up her dreams to stay here.

  He forced himself to shake off those thoughts and focus on the boys. They needed him, and he could fight through any pain for that. Plus, he didn't think he could survive another night in the hospital, with nurses walking in at all hours. How was a body supposed to get any rest?

  Voices in the hallway preceded Buck, his business partner, followed immediately by the doctor. The doctor looked about Callum's twenty-five, but surely he must be older to have gone through med school. Buck could've been his father and was a local here in Redbud Trails.

  "I can't release you," the doctor said even though Callum was sitting up with his legs slung off the side of the bed. "And you need to keep that leg elevated."

  "You'll have to—"

  The doctor shook his head. "The way your bone broke through the skin, we need to watch for signs of infection—"

  "But—"

  "Whoa now," Buck said, laying a hand on Callum's shoulder. "What's the rush?"

  "I've gotta get the boys home."

  As soon as the words left his mouth, a figure appeared in the doorway, drawing his gaze up. Make that four figures. Iris was holding Levi and Tyler's hands clasped in hers, while Brandt clung to the back of her shirt.

  "Here's Daddy," she said softly. There were shadows behind and under her eyes, as if she were haunted by their encounter yesterday. She wasn't the only one.

  He took in the boys, their tousled hair and sleepy eyes. Tyler had his thumb in his mouth, a sign of his distress that Callum hadn't been able to train out of him yet.

  The boys, usually rowdy, hesitated in the doorway. They were more shaken up than he'd expected.

  "C'mere, guys. I'm all right."

  Iris gave them a little push, and they ran to him. Tyler threw himself at Callum and hugged his good leg. Iris snagged the back of Brandt's shirt before he did the same to Cal's injured leg, lifting him onto the bed instead. He got a whiff of her sweet perfume, something flowery, over the hospital's antiseptic smell.

  Callum shot her a grateful look as she backed away, but her eyes shuttered, and his gut clenched.

  The doctor shifted, consulting the chart. "I can't release you until forty-eight to seventy-two hours have passed since you came out of surgery."

  "Up, Daddy!" Tyler reached up for Cal.

  "Just a second, son." He settled Brandt beside him, making sure he wasn't going to tip over the edge, then reached down for Levi.

  A moment later, he pulled Tyler up, stifling a groan as he settled Tyler on his lap. Just that movement sent fire down his spine and rang his clock.

  He hated to admit it, but the doctor was right. Callum didn't know if he could get out of this bed, much less care for his boys. But he had to. They needed him.

  "I'm sorry that's not what you want to hear, but it's too much of a risk." The doctor shook his head and slipped out of the room, past Iris who looked like she wanted to duck out the door as well.

  Buck stepped closer and ruffled Brandt's hair. "You've had a rough couple of days, haven't you?"

  Brandt squealed and shook his head to dislodge Buck's hand.

  He turned his gaze on Callum. Other than Joe, Buck had been more a father and friend than anyone else in Callum's life. "You've got to rest up, son."

  Just the casual use of the nickname brought a hot lump to Callum's throat. He cleared his throat to rid himself of it.

  "I've got commitments, and I plan to honor them." The agreement Buck had drawn up favored Callum, gave him five years to learn the company and buy out the older man, who was ready to retire. This injury was a setback he didn't need.

  "You're not going to be driving a truck or a combine with that leg crushed up."

  But Cal knew that meant the older man would have to take his place with the harvest crew until his leg healed. He ground his back teeth, wanting to argue but knowing Buck was right.

  "You're too stubborn for your own good. Rest up a couple of weeks, then you can join the crew and finish out the harvest."

  It would be a relief to have the extra time to find a nanny. He'd been out of luck since his arrival back in Redbud Trails.

  He rubbed one hand over his face. "Thanks, Buck."

  In his inattention, Brandt had begun pushing buttons and raising the head of the bed. The motion jarred Callum but he ignored the pain rolling throughout him, gritting his teeth.

  A sharp knock on the doorframe diverted his attention from the boys.

  Iris moved aside, though she remained in the room, and a woman who looked slightly frazzled and definitely harried stepped into the room.

  "I'm Amanda Elliot. I'm from social services. I assume you are Callum Stewart?"

  Everything inside him stilled, and then a bolt of terror shocked him.

  He shot a horrified glance at Iris. "You called social services?" He knew she must hate him after his desertion, but he hadn't expected this.

  She flinched as if he'd struck her.

  "She did not." The social worker's voice cracked like a whip. She looked young, fresh out of college maybe. Just what he needed—some over-zealous do-gooder to cause him problems.

  "Our office received a call from Mr. and Mrs. Jamison, who had some very specific concerns about the boys' care when they heard of your accident."

  Rachel's parents.

  His gut clenched with fear and hot emotion. He would just bet they had concerns. How had they even known about the accident? Were they in town? The thought filled him with terror.

  "Daddy, you're holding too tight!" Brandt squirmed against him, and Callum loosened his grasp.

  "The Jamisons are the boys' maternal grandparents, as I understand it?"

  No doubt Maude had spilled all kinds of ugly details about him—but had she told the social worker the most important things?

  He was acutely aware of Iris's presence near the door. And he resented it. But maybe she was there to keep an eye on the boys? Make sure they were okay. And would they be, now that the Jamisons were involved?

  He cleared his throat and pitched his voice low, hoping the boys were too busy fiddling with the remote, cranking up the volume to the TV, to pay attention. "Did they mention that there's a restraining order against them? Or that they attempted to abduct my sons?"

  He swallowed against the hot knot of fear that lodged in his throat, remembering those frenzied hours when he'd been powerless, when he hadn't known where his boys were or what had happened to them.

  A brief flare of surprise lit the woman's eyes as she flipped through the stack of papers she held.

  He didn't dare look at Iris. Would their past overshadow the compassion she'd given so freely to the boys over the last twenty-four hours? Back when they'd been close, her compassion had been one of the things that had brought them together, one of the things he'd valued most about her.

  He didn't want her pity. He firmed his jaw and hiked his chin. "If they're petitioning for temporary custody, you have to deny them. I don't have the paperwork on me..." He didn't have anything after the crash, and he couldn't begin to guess which box in their trailer had the papers filed in it. "But you can call the Midland County courthouse down in Texas, and they'll pull a copy of the restraining order."

  "I
'll do that," the social worker murmured. He'd flustered her, that was for sure. "But we still have an issue with the boys—who's going to care for them while you're incapacitated?"

  He gritted his teeth. He would kill Rachel's parents if he ever got his hands on them.

  "I'm getting out of here today—"

  "I spoke to the doctor in the hall, and he told me he can't release you for another couple of days. If there's no family who can take the boys, we'll have to put them in a temporary foster placement—"

  "No!"

  His adamant refusal scared the boys. Tyler popped his thumb back in his mouth while Brandt's lower lip trembled. Levi just stared, wide-eyed.

  And then Iris was there, scooping Brandt into her arms. Callum pulled Tyler into his lap and stroked Levi's head. "I'm not mad at you guys. I'm sorry I got loud."

  This wasn't his finest hour, he knew that. He hated that Iris and the social worker were witnessing it. He was in pain, sleep-deprived, and worried about his boys. He'd seen his share of foster homes in Redbud Trails, and there was no way he was letting his boys see the inside of one of them. No way.

  He looked down on the wide-eyed boy looking back at him with such trust. And he swallowed his pride. He would do anything to keep them out of the foster system. Anything.

  Iris touched his wrist. He looked at her, but she was facing off with the social worker. "Callum and the boys will stay with me and Jilly until Cal recovers. Our ranch house is plenty big enough for everyone."

  He breathed in deeply through his nose. Why would she offer that? She'd already stayed with his boys all night. It only took thirty minutes to learn how much trouble they were.

  And she knew he wasn't married. Wouldn't tongues wag in town if a bachelor stayed on with two single women? Did she really want that kind of trouble on top of everything else?

  He had no clue what she was thinking. The truth was, he was a little afraid to be so close to her again. Whatever the reason, she was still in Redbud Trails, and she had a life, and he wasn't a part of it.

  But looking down into the faces of his boys, he knew he wouldn't refuse. He would do whatever it took to keep them out of foster care. To protect them.

  Even if he had to face off with the demons of his past. He would do it. For the boys.

  * * *

  "You did what?"

  Jilly's disbelieving tone echoed Iris's own emotions, still spiraling after the powwow with Callum. What had she been thinking?

  The afternoon sunlight was waning, shining through the big double barn doors that Iris had thrown open when she'd come out here to muck stalls. Just outside the doors, the three rambunctious boys played a game of chase among the long field grasses.

  Jilly picked up a pitchfork, moving toward the bale of sweet-smelling hay that Iris had broken open in the aisle.

  "Are you sure you should be doing that?" Iris asked as she pitched a fork-full of dirty hay into a strategically placed wheelbarrow.

  Jilly huffed her bangs out of her eyes, not concealing her eye roll. She ignored Iris's concern, like usual, and began pitching the hay, one stall behind Iris.

  The task was one they'd done together many times since their childhood. After their mom had died, they'd found solace at Uncle Joe's when their father's grief had turned him distant and uncommunicative. Uncle Joe had been Mom's brother and was a different breed than their stuffy, ambitious father. Those summers spent on the ranch had taught the sisters about real family love and had solidified the faith their mother had planted. Uncle Joe had also taught them both to love the land and animals. As much as Iris had always planned to leave Redbud Trails and this ranch behind, she'd still loved it here.

  But now, everything had changed. Iris could hear Jilly's labored breathing after just a few moments of effort. And her sister's pallor was alarming, but if Iris expressed her concern again, Jilly would bite her head off. Hadn't they danced that number a million times? Jilly's head scarf had slipped, and Iris saw a patch of the thin, tufty hair above her sister's ear. Tough as her sister had always seemed, that little tuft of hair was evidence of her true vulnerability.

  Moments later, Jilly leaned against the stall door, winded.

  "Wasn't it enough that you spent the night at the hospital with him?" Jilly's protective nature always brought out that defensive, argumentative tone. Iris might as well get used to it—surely others in town were probably talking about her unexpected charity toward Cal and his sons.

  She focused on her task as she admitted, "I don't know what happened. I was watching the boys, getting ready to leave, and suddenly the offer just popped out of my mouth."

  If she were completely honest with herself, she hadn't been thinking. She'd seen and recognized, with a visceral emotional tug, the vulnerable light in Callum's eyes, and she'd spoken without thought.

  They hadn't dated until after he'd reached his majority and had lived on his own, working as a cowhand on her uncle's spread. And he'd been closed-mouthed about the foster homes he'd lived in during his growing up years.

  But his vehement no, the intensity of his refusal to allow his boys to stay in a foster home, even for a few days, spoke volumes.

  In those early days, as their friendship had developed, he'd been both quiet and reticent to talk to her, and as she'd snuck under the walls he'd built, she'd discovered he was starved for friendship.

  Seeing that vulnerability all over again had tugged at her heartstrings today.

  And she had a scary suspicion that she wasn't as over him as she'd hoped. If a small corner of her heart still harbored compassion for the things he'd been through, then maybe she hadn't completely eradicated him from her heart.

  "It's too late to take it back," she murmured to Jilly. "I've already cancelled this week's dance classes and juggled my shifts at the firehouse." Without her permission, her eyes tracked outside to where joyful, high-pitched shouts rang out. "They need somebody to look after them."

  "Not you," Jilly muttered. "They aren't yours."

  The reminder was stinging, painful. She knew that. She jabbed the pitchfork into the soiled hay.

  The reminder of Jilly's condition had Iris slipping a hand around her sister's too-thin waist.

  "Don't worry. It'll be fine. I'll be fine."

  Her cell phone trilled, and she propped her pitchfork against the corner of the stall, digging in the pocket of her jeans with her opposite hand.

  "Hey, Dad," she answered.

  "Just calling to check on you." For a moment, she was transported back in time, back to when he'd questioned everything about her relationship with Callum. Had he heard that the cowboy was back in town? He was mayor—he heard everything.

  "I heard that last thunderstorm knocked down some fence," he said. "Do you want me to call someone to fix it?"

  A sigh escaped. The ranch. He was concerned about the ranch. "We'll handle it." Like they always did. She and Jilly were adults, capable of handling the ranch's affairs.

  "Is Jilly around?"

  Her eyes darted to her sister. Jilly stared out the barn doors, her expression closed off. Iris waved, motioning to the phone, but Jilly only shook her head and averted her eyes.

  "Yes, but ..." She wouldn't talk to him.

  He rang off moments later, and Iris pocketed her phone with a sigh. "I can't believe you're still giving him the silent treatment."

  It had been four years since the blowup. Their father had always been distant, choosing his moments to be involved in their lives, like Iris's last high school ballet recital. Distant, but strict, limiting their friendships and enforcing firm dating rules on them.

  Almost a year after Callum's disappearance, when Iris had been in New York City dancing, Jilly had discovered the lengths to which their father had gone to drive away her high school boyfriend. A cancelled check and an incriminating email revealed that their dad had paid the guy to break up with Jilly. That's when Jilly had moved into Uncle Joe's place. She'd vowed never to trust Dad again.

  And Iris had be
en left in the middle.

  Not without questions of her own. She'd wondered over and over if Dad had been involved in Callum's sudden disappearance, but since Callum had never returned one of her calls, she had no way to ask him.

  And she'd never gotten the courage up to ask her dad. The fragile links holding their family together were strained enough with the tension between him and Jilly, and then Uncle Joe's passing had blotted everything else out.

  A shriek from outside drew their attention. They peered out to see the sun setting, the boys expending their energy into the twilight.

  Jilly tired easily under her current treatment regimen, and after the exertion in the barn, Iris wasn't surprised that she turned in early. Iris corralled the boys in the living room, sitting down with a book.

  They zoomed around her, running circles and shrieking at each other.

  "Do you want to read a story before bed?" she asked them.

  They pretended that they hadn't heard her, climbing onto the couch and jumping from cushion to cushion. She winced. Jilly had bought the couch a few months ago.

  She couldn't understand how they had so much energy. She'd brought them home at lunchtime, and after an afternoon of chasing them around, she was exhausted. Wasn't it bedtime yet?

  "C'mon, you three. Don't make me get out the tickle monster..."

  They shrieked in joy at her warning instead of slowing down as she'd hoped. With a sigh, she pushed up off the carpet and gave chase. Her longer legs gave her the advantage, and she wrapped one arm around Levi and Tyler, then collapsed on the floor. Brandt jumped on top of all of them. She tickled them until they dissolved into giggles.

  When they quieted, two sweaty heads rested on her shoulders and another on her tummy. She stroked each dark curly mop, a painful knot clogging her throat.

  It was quiet for precious moments, only the sound of water running upstairs.

  "Miss Iris?" Brandt shifted his head, tilting his chin up to look into her face.

  She'd learned that Brandt had a small freckle on one side of his nose and that he was the most demanding of the three, ready to speak his mind at any time. He often spoke for Tyler, who was quiet. Well, quieter, anyway.