Ooh Baby, Baby

It spoke to her. “I, ah, didn’t mean to disturb you, ma’am.”

She blinked, frowned. “It’s you.”

Looking perplexed, he aimed a quick glance over his shoulder, then eyed Peggy warily. “Yes’m, I guess it is.”

She pushed herself up and wiped a tangle of hair from her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Startled and a bit crestfallen, he backed toward the open door. “I just wanted to, uh, see how you were doing. I’ll be going now—”

“No!” She bolted upright, whipping back the covers as if preparing to chase after him. He froze, his eyes huge. “I’m glad you’re here,” Peggy said, wondering where that peculiar bubbly voice had come from. “I really wanted to see you again.”

That seemed to unnerve him. “You did?”

“Of course. I wanted to thank you.”

“No need, ma’am.”

“You saved my children’s lives, and probably mine, as well. I’d say that deserves at least a modicum of gratitude.” She cocked her head, amused by his obvious discomfort. “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to say, ‘Aw, shucks, ma’am, it weren’t nothing’?”

He widened his eyes, then narrowed them, but a smile played around the corner of his mouth. “You poking fun at me?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On your promise never to reveal to a living soul anything I did or said in the back of that cab.”

His grin broke free. “Such things are a private matter.”

“You’re a good man, Mr.—” She cocked a brow in question.

“Stockwell, ma’am. Travis John Stockwell.” He stepped forward, extending his hand.

Peggy took it, feeling the abrasion of calluses against her palm. This was a man who did more than drive cabs, she realized. These were work-worn hands, with strong fingers toughened by years of hard labor. Clyde’s hands had been soft.

Clyde had been soft.

“Ma’am?”

“Hmm?” Blinking up, Peggy realized that she still had a grip on the cowboy’s hand and was studying his softly haired knuckles as if they contained universal secrets. She released him reluctantly. “Well, Mr. Stockwell—”

“Call me Travis.” His dark eyes twinkled with good humor. “All things considered, I think we’d best be on a first-name basis.”

She felt herself blush, but couldn’t keep from smiling. “In that case, I’m glad to meet you, Travis. I’m Peggy Saxon.”

“Peggy.” The name slid off his tongue sweetly, with a soft twang that made it sound almost exotic. “That’s real pretty.” He regarded her intensely for a moment, then glanced around the room. “So, the babies are doing okay?”

“They’re wonderful, pink and healthy and full of vigor.” To her horror, a sudden gush of tears stung her eyes. “The doctor said that my daughter probably wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t cleared her airway so quickly. I’m so grateful—” She bit her lip, irritated by the rush of emotion. “Hormones are such a pain. I’m normally not much of a crier.”

The poor man looked stricken. “No, ma’am, you’re sure not. You’re the bravest woman I know.”

That startled her. “You must not know many women.”

He coughed, shifted his hat to his left hand and wiped a well-defined and decidedly muscular forearm over his brow. “Truth is, I don’t have much chance to, uh, socialize. Not that I couldn’t,” he added quickly. “It’s just that the rodeo circuit keeps me traveling so much there’s never enough time to get to know folks.”

Peggy brightened. “You like to travel?”

“Yes’m, I guess I do.”

“That must be so exciting. When I was a little girl, I used to pour over maps and crayon circles around all the places I wanted to visit.” She issued a nostalgic sigh and leaned back against the pillows. “Then I grew up.”

Travis eyed her intently, started to speak, then thought better of it. He studied his boots, then aimed another glance around the room, seeming visibly disappointed that the babies weren’t available. “Guess I should go. You need your rest.”

She waved that away. “I’m too keyed up to rest. Do you want to see the twins?”

His eyes lit like neon. “Yes, ma’am, I sure do.”

“So do I. I hate sitting here, waiting for some nurse to bring me my own children.” Pivoting carefully, Peggy lowered her feet to the floor.

Instantly, Travis stepped forward to grasp her elbow. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be out of bed?”

“It had better be. I’m going home Monday.”

“You’re still looking peaked and all.”

“The doctors said I’ll be fine, but they want me and the babies stronger before we’re all released.”

“Guess they know best,” he muttered, although clearly he disagreed. He slipped a protective arm around her waist. “Lean on me, ma’am.”

“Peggy, remember?”

“Yes, ma’am, Peggy.”

She chuckled. “Cowboy, you are just too much.”

Travis flopped on his hat to free both hands and helped Peggy down the hall toward the windowed wall of the nursery. They saw the activity from several feet away. Peggy felt Travis stiffen, hesitate. Her heart leapt into her throat.

She pushed away and stumbled forward on her own. A moment later he caught up and braced her as she pressed her hands against the glass. Inside, a team of medical personnel surrounded a Plexiglas incubator, their worried eyes focused above sterile masks. Frantic activity announced a tiny life in peril. Peggy couldn’t see the infant they were working on, but knew it could be one of her own precious babies. She was distraught. She was terrified.

But this time she wasn’t alone.

Chapter Three

Travis felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.

He tightened his grip on the frantic woman, urging her away from the nursery window. “Let’s go on back now. You ought to be resting.”

Peggy yanked out of his grasp just as a woman emerged from a nearby doorway. There was a stethoscope poking out of her breast pocket, so Peggy latched onto her. “What’s going on in there? Please, is something wrong with one of my babies?”

The nurse spiked a quick glance through the nursery window and smiled sadly. “That’s the preemie nursery.” She added a deflective nod down the hallway. “Your babies are in the next room.”

Peggy’s breath rushed out all at once. She sagged bonelessly into Travis’s arms. A warm, liquid feeling spread through his chest. He tried to ignore it, but a sweet fragrance wafted up from her hair, and the feel of her soft weight against him made him feel, well, kind of knightly.

It was a stupid sensation. Travis wasn’t anybody’s knight in shining armor. Even the fleeting image made him feel like a fool. Still, there it was, a protective instinct so strong that it shook him to his boots.

When Peggy’s gaze shuddered toward the incubator, the nurse’s did, too. “That’s Christopher,” she said with a sad sigh. “He was born late last night, only it was a little too soon for him, so he has some problems.”

Peggy’s lip quivered. “Will he be all right?”

“We hope so.”

Peggy looked up at Travis, her eyes wide with concern, moist with sympathy. “The poor little thing. His mother must be so frantic.”

The nurse’s lips thinned into an angry line. “One would think so. Unfortunately, we have no idea where she is. A security guard saw her slip out through the north-wing exit, but he didn’t realize that she was a patient, and since we were having trouble with the hospital generator at the time, things were a bit chaotic.”

Peggy was horrified. “You mean she simply walked away and abandoned her baby?”

“So it seems.”

“How can that be?” Peggy whispered. “How could any mother do such an evil thing?”

The nurse made a conspicuous attempt to soften her disapproval with a forced smile. “Christopher’s mother wasn’t much more than a child herself. She may have been overwhelmed by the responsibility of motherhood. We hope she’ll be back when she’s had a chance to think things through.”

Travis followed Peggy’s gaze to the incubator, which was partially exposed now that most of the medical team had moved away. Apparently the crisis was over. Electronic screens reflected rhythmic peaks and valleys, and inside the clear plastic box, hooked to a vicious assortment of tubes and wires, was the tiniest human Travis had ever seen in his entire life.

One doctor in surgical scrubs remained with the infant, gazing through the Plexiglas with an incredibly sad expression, but the rest of the group were already removing their masks, exiting the area with tight faces and rounded shoulders.

The nurse nodded at the red-eyed physician still hovering over the incubator. “That’s Dr. Howell.”

Peggy glanced up. “Randi Howell’s brother?”

“Yes. It’s been a horrible time for poor Noah. First his sister disappeared on her wedding day, then Olivia’s death, and now this poor little preemie struggling for life without anyone to love him.”

Travis knew Peggy was going to cry even before the first surge of moisture brightened those meadow green eyes. He made eye contact with the nurse, who understood his silent question and took Peggy’s arm, urging her down the hallway.

The woman’s smile broadened. “Your babies are doing beautifully, Mrs. Saxon.”

Peggy sniffed, brightened. “Are they?”

“Indeed, and they’re just gorgeous. Let’s go have a look, shall we?”

“Oh, yes.” Breathless, Peggy wiped her wet cheek, focusing on the window toward which she was being tactfully guided. “Oh…oh, there they are! Aren’t they beautiful, Travis?”

“Uh—” he gulped “—huh.” Clearly, childbirth had affected the poor woman’s vision. To Travis’s good old twenty-twenty sight, the red-haired infants in question resembled a matching pair of rumple-faced orangutans. “Umm, how come they’re all wrinkly?”

Peggy laughed, a delightful, melodic sound that sent happy chills down his spine. “Patience, Mr. Stockwell. God just hasn’t had a chance to iron them yet.”

Oddly enough, that made sense. Travis nodded dumbly, his gaze locked on the tiny faces blinking up from their Plexiglas bassinets. The boy, so designated by a blue-striped stretch cap, had loosened the tight infant wrap and was placidly gumming his fist. The pink-capped little girl completed a giant yawn, then stared straight at Travis as if thinking, “Hey, I know you!”

A lump rose in his throat, nearly choking him. They may not be the prettiest babies he’d ever seen, but he was absolutely convinced that they were the smartest.

“The staff adores them,” the nurse was saying. “They’re such good babies. Have you decided on names yet?”

Smiling, Peggy touched the window, flexing her fingertips against the glass. “What was the name of that road we were stuck on?”

Travis blinked. “Road? Oh, you mean Virginia?”

“That’s it.” She bent forward, wiggling her fingers at the little girl. “Hello, Virginia Marie. Mommy loves you.” Angling a glance over her shoulder, she smiled. “Marie was my mother’s name. And as long as we’re performing introductions, Travis John Stockwell, I’d like you to meet Travis John Saxon.”

If he hadn’t been gripping Peggy’s elbow, Travis would have fallen smack on his face. He opened his mouth, closed it, tugged his hat brim and stared at the floor. “I get it. You’re having fun with me again, right?”

She straightened, eyes sparkling. “If you mean I’m enjoying your stunned expression, yes, I guess I am. But Travis is a fine name, strong, sensitive, gentle—” her gaze jittered and dropped “—just like the man who carries it. I want that for my son.”

Travis licked his lips and shifted. “I don’t know what to say, ma’am—”

“Peggy.”

“Yes’m, Peggy, it’s a real honor—and I appreciate it, really I do, only…”

She cocked her head. “Only what?”

“Only your husband might not be real excited about having his son named after a broken-down rodeo bum.”

For a moment, she simply stared at him, with that tousled mane of hair spiraling around her face like a fountain of flame. Her complexion had pinked up considerably, although she was still extremely fair, and the smattering of freckles were standing at attention like a platoon of rust-colored soldiers. Even without a speck of makeup, Peggy Saxon was one incredibly beautiful woman.

Travis wondered why he hadn’t noticed that before.

She pursed her lips and tapped a bare foot. “First off, Mr. Stockwell, I take umbrage at the term ‘bum.’ You’re a fine man, and I won’t allow you to make light of yourself.”

Completely taken aback, he murmured, “Yes’m, sorry,” then winced at the foolish response.

Ignoring his discomfort, she appraised his body from scalp to toe and back again, with such blatant admiration that he felt his neck heat. “Second, nothing about you is visibly broken-down, and even if it was, I also consider that term to be derogatory and therefore off-limits when referring to my son’s namesake. Last but not least, I have no husband.” She speared him with a look. “Does that about cover your list of objections?”

Travis swallowed hard. “Yes’m, I believe it does.”

* * *

Issuing a pained sigh, Travis settled into the lounger and cooled his forehead with a can of soda. “I’m plumb tuckered. Having babies sure wears a man out.”

In the corner of the Conways’ converted den, Sue Anne swiveled away from the dispatch center to toss her brother a sour look. “Try shoving a ten-pound watermelon up your nostril and I might consider feeling sorry for you.”

He popped the soda can, took a long swallow and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yep, women sure got it easy, just lie back and puff like a hound while us menfolk do the real work.” He ducked as a throw pillow whizzed past his head.

Travis retrieved the pillow and tucked it behind his back. “A mite touchy, eh, sis?”

She scowled at him. “I told Mama I wanted a kitten. She came home with you.”

“And you’ve been bullying me ever since.”

“It’s a rotten job, but someone has to do it.” She smiled sweetly. “You have to admit I’m good.”

“Best bully in the whole danged world, next to that fat-knuckled little horse apple who used to steal my lunch money.”

Sue Anne angled a smug grin. “Who do you think hired him?”

“No fooling?” Travis hiked a brow. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Takes some of the guilt off me for ripping pages out of your diary and pasting them up in the boys’ bathroom.”

Sue Anne roared to her feet. “You did what?”

Travis tipped back his hat, propped the soda can on his knee and launched into an exaggerated falsetto recitation. “‘I’ll just die if Daniel Harris doesn’t ask me to the spring hop. He’s so-o-o dreamy. Every time he looks at me, my heart flutters and I get all gooey inside—’ Hey!” He flung up his forearms to ward off another pillow, two magazines and a tissue box. “Cripes, sis, chill out, will you? I was just joshing.”

Travis peeked out from under his crossed forearms to judge the extent of his scowling sister’s ire. Her brows were puckered, but not enough to form a pleated bridge across her nose. That meant she was perturbed, but not dangerous. At least, not to Travis. A stranger would have taken one look at that glowering face and run for his life.

Sue Anne Conway kind of had that effect on folks. By any standard, she was an imposing woman. Only an inch shorter than Travis, she outweighed him by twenty pounds and had been three-time women’s barrel-racing champion before settling down with the only man who’d ever beat her at arm wrestling.

After skewering her brother with a narrowed stare, she plopped back into the dispatch chair, ruffled a choppy shock of short brown hair and smoothed her oversized I Brake for Cowboys T-shirt. “Lucky for you the radio console is bolted to the desk, or I’d jam the danged thing in your ear.”

“Love you, too, sis.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sue Anne sniffed, shrugged, but couldn’t hide a smile. “I love you, too, kid.”

Travis had never doubted that for a moment. His sister was the only stable person in his life, not to mention the only family he’d had since their no-account father drank himself to death on Travis’s sixteenth birthday. Even though Sue Anne had been busy with her own family, she and Jimmy had welcomed the orphaned adolescent into their home.

But not for long. At eighteen, Travis had struck out on his own and had soon earned a reputation as one of the best bronc riders on the circuit. The rodeo became his home, leaving Travis free, mobile and emotionally unencumbered. He liked it that way. And on those rare times when irritated livestock used him for a doormat, Travis always limped back to his sister’s house to sulk and lick his wounds until the call of the whispering wanderer made his boots itch.

Times like now, when he’d been grounded for weeks with a bruised liver and a chest full of cracked ribs. Heaving a pained sigh, Travis retrieved the wet package of pumpkin seeds and shook a few into his palm while the dispatch console hissed to life.

A familiar voice drawled, “Unit one to dispatch. You there, babe?”

Sue Anne swiveled around and flipped the switch. “Hi, sweet cheeks. Where else would I be?”

“Never know. Good-looking woman like you must get lots of offers.”

“’Course I do. Why, there’s a whole line of hopefuls queued in the parlor, just waiting for me to come to my senses and let one of ’em sweep me off my feet.”

“And right pretty feet they are, too.” Jimmy Conway’s voice crackled with humor, but was slurred with fatigue. “Listen, hon, I’m outside city hall, getting ready to roll. Seems a pipe break opened a big ol’ sinkhole outside an apartment unit up on North Nash Street. I can’t take but half a crew. Buzz Ted, will you? See if he can pick up the rest.”

“Ted’s on his way in.” Sue Anne focused on a mural-size city map tacked up on the wall to her left. “He should be a couple of miles from you. I’ll divert him.”

“Thanks, cupcake. Unit one out.”

A moment later, Sue Anne was on the radio with the oldest of her two sons. At twenty, Ted Conway was a chip off the old block, a hard-working, hell-raising, good ol’ boy who’d tear his shirt off for a buddy and risk his life for a stranger in need. Like his father, Ted was boisterous, adventurous and salt-of-the-earth good.

His younger brother, Danny, was less active and more sensitive than either his father or brother, but was every bit as committed to the down-home ethics that had made the entire Conway family one of the best liked and most respected in Grand Springs. Having just graduated from high school, Danny was already firming up college plans despite objections from his chagrined father, who’d always assumed that both of his boys would enter the family business.

If Jimmy had been disappointed that his youngest preferred computers to cabs, Sue Anne had been quietly pleased, not so much by her son’s choice of career but by his fortitude in pursuing that choice. Sue Anne was the backbone of the family, the champion of choice, probably because she’d had so few options in her own life.

At thirteen, she’d been thrust into the roles of mother to a six-year-old brother and housekeeper for a drunken slug of a man who’d never known the meaning of the word parent. If it hadn’t been for watching Jimmy Conway, Travis wouldn’t have had a clue what a father was supposed to do. Jimmy was a good dad, a real good dad. He instinctively knew the right thing to do, to say. He’d raised himself a pair of danged fine sons, too.

But Jimmy had a good dad himself. Travis had long accepted the sad fact that a man who never had a real father could never expect to be one.

Which was exactly why Travis had long ago vowed to never, ever have kids.

“Travis?”

“Hmm?” He looked up, blinked and saw Sue Anne frowning. “Sorry. Guess I was lost in space.”

“So what’s new about that?” She smiled, a maternal, loving kind of grin that always made Travis feel, well, special. “You look tired, kid. Why don’t you go take a nap or something?”

The reminder made him yawn. He rolled his head until his neck cracked, stretched and set the soda can on the table. “Maybe later. Right now, things are still pretty much a mess out there. As soon as the garage finishes washing and fueling unit six, I’ll be on my way and see where I’m wanted.”

At the word wanted, Peggy Saxon’s face popped into his mind with startling clarity. Eyes like a field of spring clover, hair that sparkled like a wood-stoked campfire, and a tweaked-up nose spattered with the cutest freckles he ever had seen. Now, there’s a woman who could make a man crazy with want.

Apparently, Travis’s eyes glazed, because before he knew it, Sue Anne was on his case again.

“Doggone it, Travis, you’re so danged tuckered you can’t even keep your wits about you. There’s no way I’m letting you back on the streets.”

He yanked off his hat, ruffled his hair and issued a frustrated sigh. “That’s not it, sis. I was just thinking about— Aw, hell.” He slapped the Stetson against his knee before resettling it on his head. “She’s all alone, you know? She hasn’t got anybody at all.”

Sue Anne blinked. “Who’s all alone?”

“Peggy…er, Mrs. Saxon.”

“Ah, the twins lady.”

“Can you believe those poor babies are going to grow up without a daddy?”

Sue Anne shrugged. “We did. Long as they’ve got a mama, they’ll be okay.” She widened her eyes, realizing what she’d said. “I’m sorry, hon. I didn’t mean—”

“I know, sis.” He leaned back, understanding that his sister feared his feelings were hurt, but not certain how to explain that when it came to their mother, he couldn’t recall enough to have any feelings at all. “I know you and Mama were real close, and I know how much you miss her. Thing is, I don’t, because I can’t remember anything about her.”

“I wish you could.” Sue Anne fiddled with the microphone cord. “You missed out on so much, Travis. That pains me.”

“I didn’t miss out on nothing. I had you.” He glanced up and sighed. “Aw, geez, you’re not going to tear up on me, are you?”

“Getting a cold, that’s all.” Sue Anne sniffed and cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t have left you so soon.”

“You didn’t leave me. You got married. There’s a heap of difference.”

“You were just a kid.”

“I was nine, old enough to take care of myself.”

“No, you weren’t.” Sue Anne rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, just as she’d done years ago when she’d been a tearful sixteen-year-old creeping into her baby brother’s room to tell him she was running off to get married. “I should have taken you along instead of leaving you with him.” She spit the last word out like a bad taste, then issued an irritated grunt and spun back to the console. “Go take a nap, Travis.”

“Is that a boss-type order, or a mommy-type order?”

She glowered over her shoulder. “You aren’t too big to whup, boy.”

“Hell, no one’s too big for you to whup.” Travis stood, rolled the kinks out of his shoulder and strode across the room. “Jimmy still have those chain saws out in the shed?”

Sue Anne was on her feet now. “What are you up to?”

“Same as always, about five foot ten.” Grinning, he tipped his hat. “If you need me, I’ll be on Rourke Way. You’ve got the address.”

With that, he sauntered out the door, whistling.

* * *

From her third-floor window, Peggy gazed out at the dark town. A few lights were visible in the distance—glowing windows in the police station across the square and in a squat building down the block that she thought was the telephone company. Apparently, those locations were relying on generators, as was the hospital. Everything else was black, cold. Dead-looking.

She shivered.

“What are you doing up, Mrs. Saxon?” The night nurse scurried across polished linoleum, whispering loudly enough to rouse the other occupant of the ward, a woman who’d given birth only a few hours ago. “It’s after midnight,” the nurse scolded. “You should be sleeping.”

“It’s too hot to sleep.”

“There’s not enough power for air-conditioning,” the nurse murmured, stopping beside Peggy’s abandoned bed long enough to indulge in a pillow-fluffing frenzy. She looked up and brightened. “A sponge bath might make you feel better. Shall I bring a water basin and a washcloth?”