Pine Country Cowboy

He’s a flirt. The women warned you. Don’t take his flattery to heart. Nevertheless, her breath came more quickly at the approving sparkle in his eyes.

“There’s one other...” She couldn’t help but toy, noticing with gratification how a brow lifted in surprised interest. “But our brother, Ed, might take exception to being termed pretty.”

Brett’s amused gaze pinned her just as her cell phone vibrated silently in the purse resting against her hip. Please don’t let it be Gene again. Since Sunday evening her ex-fiancé had been calling. Emailing. Texting. His messages were brief, only that he needed to talk to her. With each attempt to make contact, her hopes—and outrage—rose in unison.

Brett cocked his head to the side. “Is something wrong, ma’am?”

She wished he’d stop calling her that. It made her sound as old as dirt. “My phone’s vibrating.” She patted the purse at her side. “Incoming call.”

“Don’t mind me. Go ahead. Take it.”

With a grimace of apology, she pulled out the phone. Not Gene, thank goodness, but her older brother, Davy’s dad.

It was already nice getting more frequent calls from Joe. While they’d kept in contact sporadically through the years, they had a long way to go to rebond. Maybe they never fully would. But despite him not being around much the past few days, he was making an effort to reconnect, which was more than Dad seemed to be doing.

“Hey, Joe, what’s up?”

“Meg’s being air-vacced to the hospital at Show Low.”

Her throat tightened at his flat tone, recognizing he’d shifted into paramedic mode. The levelheaded corpsman pattern from his navy days divorced emotion from the situation at hand, conveying that the air transport was more serious than Meg merely going into a much-anticipated labor.

“Is she—”

“I’m on my way there now. She says you have Davy.”

Abby quickly confirmed the boy was still deep in conversation with Trey. “I do. He’s right here.”

“Can you keep him for a while? Stay with him at the house if we don’t get back by tonight?”

“Maybe...” Dad could take care of Davy, couldn’t he? Or Olivia, Joe and Abby’s cousin who’d married Meg’s brother? But no, Joe needed immediate assurance that things were under control on the home front. “Sure. No problem.”

“Davy has a key.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, sis. You’re an answered prayer. I’ll call you when I know more.”

Heart still pounding, she gripped the phone as her gaze met Brett’s troubled one. “Wait— Joe? Will Meg— Is the baby— Are they going to be okay?”

Chapter Two

Gut-punched at the implications of the one-sided conversation, Brett watched as Abby slipped the phone back into her purse with trembling fingers.

“The baby’s on its way?”

“Maybe.” Abby’s dark eyes, wide with alarm, met his. “Meg’s not due for two more weeks, but she’s being air-vacced to Show Low. Joe will call again after he gets there and has more details.”

“But he thinks she and the baby are going to be okay?” He’d heard her ask that question.

She bit gently down on her lower lip. “He doesn’t know. He says to keep them in our prayers.”

Brett gave a confirming nod, a prayer already pumping through his being along with the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Babies. Moms. He knew what was at stake. “You can count on me.”

Something in Abby’s eyes flickered. Surprise? Doubt?

“Thank you.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The baby... It’s a girl. Jorelle. Jo. After her daddy, except without the e.”

“I imagine everybody will be calling her Jori before she’s even out of diapers.”

“Jori. I like that.” An ever-so-faint smile touched the woman’s lips, then she turned to watch as Davy and Trey headed in their direction, her nephew proudly leading Trey’s horse, Taco. “I’d better round up Davy and get him back home.”

“You’ll be lucky if you can drag him out of here with a tractor. Looks like he and ol’ Taco are buds now.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She took a strengthening breath and he intuitively knew where her thoughts had headed—to what she’d tell Davy about his stepmother’s situation.

He lightly touched her arm and, as she turned uncertainly toward him, he clearly read concern for her family in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. You’ll be given the words to explain his mom’s absence. To reassure him. He’ll be fine.”

She blinked rapidly, hugging her arms to herself in an almost protective gesture.

“But he hardly knows me. What if—” She compressed her lips together, her dark eyes challenging him for answers to questions she dared not utter. What if something was wrong with the baby? What if his mommy... What if she was all alone with Davy should she get such a call?

Stepping closer, he reached for her hand, holding it securely when she tried to draw it back. Warm, soft, fine-boned. “God will tell you what to say, what to do. But don’t dwell on the negative. I don’t know if there’s any truth to it, but I’ve heard babies sometimes come early at higher elevations. Everything’s going to be fine. You wait and see.”

She stared into his eyes, absorbing his words, and his heart rate ramped up a notch. Calm her, Lord. Let her feel Your presence. And while You’re at it, You may need to give me the strength to let go of her hand.

After a long moment, she gave a slight nod, the worst of the worry in her eyes subsiding. He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Aunt Abby! Look at me.”

Abby immediately pulled her hand from his and the two again turned as Trey and the boy neared, a toothy grin spread across the youngster’s face.

When they’d come to a halt in front of her, Abby gave a firm pat to the chestnut’s neck, not timid about it as he would have expected.

She smiled. “You looked good out there, Davy.”

“He did,” Brett confirmed as the boy reluctantly handed over the reins to Trey, then removed his riding helmet and reached up to set it atop the saddle horn.

Brett whipped off his own hat and stepped up to place it on the dark-haired head. “Now you look like a real cowboy.”

Davy beamed up at him.

“Get your daddy to buy you a hat.”

“And some real boots, too?” With a roll of his eyes, Davy looked down at the indignity of his makeshift attire. The class required footwear with a heel so little feet couldn’t slip through stirrups, but today Joe’s son was making do with a pair of laced, heeled work boots. Yep, the boy needed himself a hat and a pair of genuine cowboy boots.

Brett clapped him on the shoulder. “Mention that to your daddy, too.”

“Good job, Davy.” Trey lifted a hand in farewell. “See you at church tomorrow.”

Bubbling over with barely contained happiness, the boy returned Brett’s hat, then turned to half walk, half skip his way across the arena floor. Abby watched him in thoughtful silence, then turned again to Brett.

“Thank you,” she murmured almost shyly, and he again detected an underlying sadness in her eyes. She nodded to Trey and had barely turned away when a laughing Davy dashed back to grab her hand. Together they jogged toward the arena’s exit.

Brett twirled his hat on his finger, unable to suppress a grin.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in my day,” Trey said, shaking his head as he scratched Taco behind the ear. “But now I’ve seen it all. Nobody tops you, buddy. Ninety minutes into an introduction and you’re already holding hands with Davy’s aunt. What was that all about?”

Avoiding Trey’s incredulous stare, Brett gripped the brim of his hat as he recalled the delicate softness of Abby’s fingers cupped in his work-roughened hands. The sweet, clean smell of her up close and her raven hair shimmering, waiting to be loosed from its ribbon clasp.

A not-unexpected weight pressed in on his heart and he scuffed a boot in the dirt, shaking off the too-vivid memory. While they were nice to look at and fun to flirt with, he wasn’t in the market for another lady in his life. A wife. It wasn’t likely God would give him the go-ahead for such as that again, anyway. Besides, he needed to stay focused on helping Janet Logan revive that weeklong summer camp for disease-disabled kids. She was the sole person in Canyon Springs who knew why the project was close to his heart. He liked it that way, between the two of them and God.

“It was all about nothin’, that’s what,” he said with a chuckle as he belatedly remembered Trey was waiting for an answer. “At least nothing like what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah, right.”

Sobering, Brett cut a look at his friend and employer. “She got a call that Joe’s wife’s being rushed to the hospital in Show Low. She needed reassurance, that’s all.”

Trey smiled as the truth dawned. “The baby’s coming?”

Brett squinted against the light coming in from the open doorway at the end of the building, watching a silhouetted Abby and her nephew heading out to their vehicle. She’d be telling him now. Telling him his mommy wouldn’t be home when they got there because she and his daddy had gone to see about the baby. She’d be assuring him Aunt Abby was excited to spend more time with him and they’d have fun together.

“Sure sounds like the baby won’t be long in coming.” He settled his hat on his head. “But things are getting off to a rough start. They’d appreciate prayers.”

He glanced again at the now-vacant, yawning doorway, his spirit whispering a prayer for father, mother, brother, unborn baby sister.

And for the sad-eyed Abby, too.

* * *

“Davy!” Abby called up the stairs of Meg and Joe’s place the following morning. “It’s time to go.”

She planned to drop Davy off for Sunday school, then he could join her father—his grandpa—for the church service afterward. Dad could take him out for lunch and bring him back home. That way she wouldn’t have to deal with vaguely familiar faces asking if she remembered them or inviting her to take a trip down memory lane.

Besides, her father admitted he was serious about his girlfriend, Sharon Dixon, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse, so Sharon would likely join them for lunch. Girlfriend. What a dumb label for a woman in her mid-fifties, conjuring up images of starry-eyed teenagers. But companion sounded equally silly and romantic interest stilted. Even though eighteen years had passed since her parents’ divorce and Mom had remarried when Abby was twenty, she hadn’t been prepared to see Dad with another woman. It had been more than awkward that first day when she’d arrived unexpectedly on his doorstep and found Sharon there, fixing lunch for the two of them.

No, this spur-of-the-moment visit hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped at all. She’d never been an impulsive sort and this was one more confirmation that racing ahead without thinking wasn’t in her best interests.

“Davy!” she called again.

“Camy won’t give me my shoe,” the boy’s voice echoed from the second story.

She cringed. That was her fault. With Davy anxious while his parents were gone, she’d given in and allowed him to bring the year-and-a-half-old Labrador retriever inside to sleep on the floor by his bed. Mistake. At least feeding Skooter, Meg’s blue betta fish, had been uneventful.

She made it halfway up the stairs to assist him when the cell phone she’d left in the kitchen chimed. Gene again? She’d come to terms with their parting, determined to trust God that it was the right thing for both of them. But with each attempted contact, the dreamer inside her irrationally hoped he was experiencing regrets about their breakup. The pragmatic side, of course, insisted he’d remembered he’d given her a valuable volume of poetry for her last birthday and wondered if he could have it back. Either way, she wasn’t ready to talk to him.

Backtracking to the kitchen, Abby snatched up the phone, relieved at the caller ID. “Good morning, Joe.”

“Things okay there?” He sounded weary. “Davy’s not giving you any trouble?”

“Of course not. He’s a doll.” The kind of little boy she’d always dreamed of having. “How’s Meg?”

“Stabilized. Tired.”

“And the baby?”

“They’re keeping her closely monitored. So far so good. They may be released this afternoon.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Doubly so. Meg’s return meant Abby could head home, too. Hanging out with Davy the past twenty-four hours, playing temporary mom, had been more than her heart was ready to bear.

“Hey, Meg has something she wants to talk to you about. Just a sec.”

She eased herself down onto a kitchen chair, waiting as he handed the phone to his wife with a few murmured words. Heard a kiss. Must be nice to have a supportive spouse, one who stuck by you no matter what.

“Abby?”

Meg’s usually perky voice was far less so today, and Abby envisioned the short-haired brunette, her face now much fuller than in her wedding pictures, stretched out in a hospital bed after the upset of the previous day.

“I hate to ask one more thing of you,” her sister-in-law continued. “So I apologize in advance. I know you intended to go home yesterday.”

“Never mind that.” She plucked absently at a woven place mat. “What can I do for you?”

“Until a few minutes ago, I’d forgotten the kindergarten Sunday school teacher is out of town this weekend. I’m her assistant. Her backup. Would you fill in for me this morning?”

That meant a room full of little kids, probably next door to the nursery. She’d be facing another battery of “do you remember me?” people, too. But how could she say no?

“I’ve prepared the lesson,” Meg rushed on. “The activities, too. Everything’s in the wicker trunk in the living room.”

“How many kids are we talking about?” Although she’d long dreamed of one of her own, Abby hadn’t much interaction with the younger set. Brother Ed had no children and Joe’s son, Davy, by his now-deceased first wife had grown up in San Diego, where she’d had no in-person contact with him until now.

“Usually four kids, maybe five. But this time of year, with the tourist season beginning, we plan for eight, then up to twelve once school is out and the season is in full swing.”

Potentially eight kids. “Ohhh...kay.”

“You don’t sound like it’s okay.”

Abby glanced down at her jeans and tank top. Not exactly grubbies, but hardly churchwear. She’d have to change. “I’m reconfiguring the morning in my mind. Davy and I aren’t quite ready to dash out the door.”

“Sometimes you have to light a fire under him to get him moving.”

“Oh, he’s up and had breakfast. We’ve run into a slight delay.” She hoped the yellow Lab hadn’t chewed up the shoe beyond repair. “Don’t worry about the class. I’ll have it covered.”

“Thanks, Abby. I feel bad asking people to step in at the last minute. I had to call the school district to tell them I’ll miss these final days of the semester.”

From the dismal tone of her voice, disappointment weighed heavily on the high school science teacher. It was obvious even from their brief acquaintance that she loved teaching and her students.

“Joe says you might be released this afternoon, so get plenty of rest. You and Jori—” she tried out the nickname on her tongue, still liking the sound of it “—need all your strength for the final big event.”

“Jori?”

“That’s what one of Davy’s riding instructors, Brett Marden, is calling her.”

“So you met Brett, did you?” A lilt of amusement colored Meg’s innocent question.

The image of Brett’s dancing eyes and flash of even white teeth returned with a rush. His “could be you’ll find something that catches your interest” comment echoed in her ears as she rubbed her palm down the side of her jeans, recalling yesterday’s surprisingly gentle touch when he’d unexpectedly taken her hand in his. “We spoke for a few minutes.”

“What do you think of him?”

She stood and moved to stand at the French door leading to the patio, focusing on the beautiful morning in an attempt to force out lingering images of her nephew’s riding instructor.

“He’s nice. Davy seems to like him.”

Meg snorted. “You’re holding back on me. How about the part that he’s gorgeous, has a killer smile and can charm the hair right off your head?”

“I guess I wasn’t paying that much attention.” Would lightning strike her for the denial?

Her sister-in-law’s laughter pealed through the phone. “It sounds as if we need to get your eyes checked. He has so many female hearts wrapped around his little finger it’s not even funny. So be on your toes, girl, if you run into him again.”

She wouldn’t be running into him again if she had anything to say about it. There was something unsettling about the man, something that set her senses on high alert with red flashing lights. Caution. Warning. Do not enter.

“You forget, Meg.” Abby shoved away thoughts of the too-friendly cowboy. “I’ve come out of a relationship that didn’t end in a happily ever after. I’m in no hurry to walk that path again.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Hearing the sincere regret in Meg’s voice, Abby wished she hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. Not about any of it, which is why she’d kept the truth behind Gene’s departure from her family and had allowed them to assume she’d broken off the relationship as she’d done others in the past. No one anticipating the celebration of a new arrival needed the downer of her childless reality intruding into their midst.

“That’s okay. I’m fine. I’m not looking for a replacement anytime soon.” Abby turned away from the pine-studded view to pace the kitchen floor. “So forget about me and concentrate on your new arrival. You’re going to have that baby before you know it.”

Meg sighed. “I hope so. I know God has it all under control, but yesterday I was so scared. I still am even though I’m trying not to be.”

Abby halted. It seemed strange for Meg to confide in her, an almost stranger. She must be searching for reassurance wherever she could get it. Would they have been friends by now had Abby not eschewed her brother’s wedding last year? Her relationship with Gene had been off to a promising start and he’d invited her to meet his Seattle-based parents during spring break—which happened to coincide with Joe and Meg’s wedding date. With hardly a second thought, she’d eagerly joined Gene. Bad choice on her part, in retrospect.

“I want my little girl to be healthy and happy,” the voice over the phone murmured softly.

“She will be, Meg. Everything’s going to be fine.” Would it? That’s what Brett said and, for some crazy reason, she’d believed him. He’d seemed so certain and had promised to pray. Abby had been praying, too, but felt like a hypocrite asking favors for someone when she’d seen prayers for herself come to nothing. “Take a deep breath and don’t worry about anything here. Davy and I will be on our way to church shortly.”

Just as soon as she got that shoe away from the pup.

Chapter Three

“Hey, who’s the gal with Davy Diaz?”

Jake Talford, standing outside the front door of Canyon Springs Christian Church, nodded toward the education wing of the building.

Brett turned to take a look and his spirits inexplicably took flight. As always, he felt a sense of anticipation as he approached the native stone building nestled among tall-trunked ponderosa pine trees, its bell tower topped by a cross. But today that expectancy was heightened by the sight of Abby ushering her nephew toward a side door. So she hadn’t gone home yesterday after all.

Abby was dressed in a black skirt, burgundy V-neck top and what his sisters called espadrilles, with her hair fastened behind her head in a schoolmarmish bun. Despite her reserved manner, the look didn’t suit her.

He watched until the pair disappeared inside, then turned back to his friend. “That’s Abby Diaz. Joe’s sister.”

The city councilman raised a brow. “You’re kidding. I didn’t know he had a sister.”

“Welcome to the club.” At least he wasn’t the lone person Joe hadn’t confided in.

They chatted for several more minutes about the promising Arizona Diamondbacks season and Jake and his fiancée’s wedding plans. But Brett had a hard time concentrating on the conversation. If Abby was at church with Davy, did that mean Meg had safely delivered the baby—or not?

As an older couple approached the doorway where the two men stood, he stepped back and gave Jake a parting nod. “See you later.”

He jogged down the covered walkway to the education wing door, whipped off his hat and entered. What was Davy now? A first-grader until school let out for the summer? Abby would likely have been taking him to his classroom, then maybe joining one of the adult classes as he, too, intended to do.

He peeked in the interior window of the first grade class and spied Davy pulling out a chair at the table. Brett opened the door with an apologetic smile at the teacher and whispered to Abby’s nephew. “Davy, where’s your aunt?”

The boy looked up and smiled a greeting. “She’s teaching kindergarten for Mommy.”

His heart hitched. Kindergarten. Roughly the same age as Jeremy when he’d held him in his arms those final hours and kissed him goodbye.

Squaring his shoulders, he nodded his thanks, then shut the door. At the next classroom he looked through the window. Sure enough, a bewildered-looking Abby stood in the midst of half a dozen or so little kids, the noise level rising with every passing second even with the classroom door closed. Unsmiling, she appeared to be pleading with her charges to settle down, but the kids didn’t pay her any attention.

This looked to be a rescue operation.

He opened the door and slipped inside. Then he shut it behind him, tossed his hat to the top of a supply cabinet and squatted to kid level, savoring the memorable scent of glue sticks and crayons. It took two seconds for the majority of the children to come running. The remaining two, probably summer visitors, hung back, watchful.

The local kids crowded in close.

“Hi, Brett! Can I wear your hat?”

“Are you going to teach our Sunday school class?”

“Did you ride your horse to church?”

“Where’s Elmo?”

Laughing, he glanced up at Abby, who didn’t look happy at the interruption. Couldn’t she see he’d come to her aid? He gave each child a hug, then shook the hands of the new kids, solemnly introducing himself and asking their names.

“Brett is awesome,” Betsy Davis, motherlike, assured the visitors. “We love him.”

“Yeah.” A ponytailed Mary Kenton, the pastor’s oldest daughter, gave him another hug.

The others joined in with a cacophony of affirmations and the noise level escalated again. Conscious of the nursery across the hall and the adjoining first grade classroom, Brett stood and placed his finger to his lips. “I think it’s time to play—”

“I do have a lesson prepared.” Abby lifted a teacher’s guide in protest as if suspecting he intended to hijack the sharing of God’s word for an hour of recreational pursuits.

“Little red schoolhouse!” the local kids shouted in unison, guessing the game Brett had been about to suggest. Giggling, they hurried to be seated around a low, rectangular table.

He shrugged as he shot Abby a grin that she didn’t return.

“This is so cool,” Betsy informed the visitors as the chatter continued around the table. “His mom taught him this game.”

“And her mom taught it to her,” Brett added. Grandma was a sly one. As a youngster, he’d fallen for it for years. Glancing at an obviously disapproving Abby, he merely waved her toward one of the diminutive chairs. “Come on, ma’am, you won’t want to miss this.”

With a crease still etching her forehead, she pulled out a chair and carefully perched on it, almost as if expecting it to collapse like in the old Goldilocks tale. He gave her an approving nod, but didn’t coax out a smile.

“Okay now.” Brett clapped, getting the attention of the still-jabbering children. “When I say the words little red schoolhouse...one, two, three, what do we do?”