One Tiny Miracle: Branded with his Baby / The Baby Bump / An Accidental Family

“No children?” he asked.

Gripping her cup, she tried to push away the empty ache that always seemed to be lingering near her heart. “No. My ex-husband’s job required him to travel all the time. I kept waiting for that to change. It didn’t.”

She could feel his blue eyes upon her, but she didn’t have the courage to lift her gaze to his. “What about you, Mr. Cantrell? You’ve not married yet?”

He took his time sipping his coffee and as tense moments begin to tick away, Maura decided he was going to ignore her question entirely. Which was embarrassing. Especially since she’d talked about her personal life.

“No,” he said finally. “I haven’t been looking for a wife. Can’t see that I need one.”

And why would he? she asked herself. The man had everything. Cattle, horses, thousands of acres of prime ranch land at his disposal, anything that money could buy. And that probably included women; the sort that he could take or leave at his convenience. A young hunk like him probably didn’t want to be saddled with a wife.

“And I wish you wouldn’t call me Mr. Cantrell,” he went on. “That was my father’s name. I’m just Quint to everyone.”

Calling him Mr. Cantrell helped keep him at an emotional distance. But it looked as though he meant to tear down even that flimsy barrier. Feeling even tenser, she drained her cup and rose to her feet. “Okay, Quint. Will you be staying for supper? There’ll be plenty.”

He got to his feet and Maura unconsciously stepped backward to put plenty of space between them. He was a big man. In size and presence. Strength and masculinity were stamped all over his rough features, broad shoulders and long, hard legs. Just being near him left her feeling cornered.

“I don’t know yet. Right now I’m going to go find my grandfather.” He placed his cup in the sink, then went out the back door, the screen banging behind him.

Maura stared after him and wondered why meeting Quint Cantrell had felt like going through an earthquake. Even her hands were still shaking.

Because Jenna Cantrell had wanted the dust and commotion of a ranch yard well away from her home, Abe had built the working part of Apache Wells two miles west of the house. Normally, he and Quint drove the distance, but there were times they chose to walk to the bunkhouse and work pens.

Down through the years, the outbuildings and barns had been built with no particular style or planning in mind, except durability and practical use. Some were made of wood, some corrugated iron, but one thing the buildings did have in common was their whitewashed walls and red tin roofs.

To one side of the network of buildings and connecting holding pens was a long arena where the hands gathered to train their horses to follow and cut cattle, and in quieter times, swap stories around a small campfire.

This late summer evening just happened to be cool enough to appreciate the warmth of a fire and, after Quint parked his truck, he found his grandfather with several of his hired hands squatting around the ring of rocks. The moment Abe spotted his approach, he left the circle of men and walked over to his grandson.

The older man was the same height as Quint and bony thin. He never went outdoors without his black hat and he always wore the legs of his jeans stuffed deep into his knee-high cowboy boots. This particular pair had lime-green tops with fancy yellow stitching and the leather was as scarred and worn as his grandfather’s face. Tonight he was wearing a brown quilted vest to ward away the chill and the puffy garment camouflaged his wiry torso.

Stroking his thick white mustache, he said to Quint, “So I see you finally managed to come check on your grandfather.”

Not allowing the old man any slack, Quint said, “I had to work at it. But I’m here.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Abe rocked back on his high heels. “Well, it’s about time.” He jerked his head toward the men behind him. “Jim’s makin’ some camp coffee. Come have a cup with us.”

“I just had coffee—with your nurse,” Quint added pointedly.

Abe grinned that goofy sort of grin that men got on their faces when they talked about women. “So you met the little filly, did ya? What’d you think about her?”

If Quint hadn’t been so shocked at his grandfather’s ribald questions, he would have rolled his eyes and cursed a blue streak.

“Forget about that,” he muttered. “What the hell are you doing, Gramps? You’re not sick! You’re using that vertigo problem of yours as an excuse to have her here. Aren’t you?”

“S-s-shh! Don’t be raising your voice so, damn it! She might hear you.”

“She’s in the house—two miles from here,” Quint reasoned.

His head tilting one way and then the other, Abe chuckled. “Well, she thinks I’m needy—and I am. At times. You know, Quint, I always had it in my mind that nurses were hard-hearted women. They sure seem like it when a man is sick. But Maura ain’t. She’s as sweet as a summer peach.”

“Since when did you need a summer peach?” Quint countered.

Abe shrugged. “Well—since I got dizzy.”

Quint snorted. “Looks to me like you’ve gotten more than dizzy.”

“That’s right,” Abe retorted. “I got the notion that I was tired of living alone.”

Shaking his head, Quint looked out at the ranch yard. The dipping sun was lengthening the shadows of the buildings. A pen of horses munched on alfalfa while around their feet several dominickers pecked at the morsels of oats and corn that had fallen from the feed troughs. Apache Wells had always felt more like home to Quint than any of the other Cantrell properties in Lincoln County.

As a young child he’d spent many days and nights here with his grandparents and those memories were more than special to him. His time here had influenced his life. The endless days he’d spent with his grandfather working in and out of the saddle had set Quint’s goals and visions for the future.

Yes, Apache Wells had always been special to him and he didn’t want a woman coming along and changing anything about it.

“Living alone! Gramps, you have men all around you. That’s hardly being alone.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Abe countered with a question.

Quint frowned, then heaved out a heavy breath. “Look, Gramps, I’m not the one complaining about being lonely. You are. My life is one big whirlwind right now. I don’t have time to be lonely. And frankly, neither do you. So spare me.”

Abe scowled at him. “Spare you? I’d like to kick your ass.”

Seeing he was getting nowhere, Quint took a different direction. “So how long do you plan on keeping this nurse?”

Abe gave him a palms-up gesture. “‘Til I don’t need her, I suppose. ‘Course if I get over this dizzy problem, I’m hardly likely to run her off.”

Quint suddenly decided he’d been all wrong about the old man. Abe was sick. With dementia or something like it. Had Maura already recognized Abe’s problem and saw it as a way to get her foot in the door? He hated to think the woman might be that calculating. She didn’t seem the sort, at all. But then, he’d spent four years believing that Holly Johnson was a true-blue innocent and look what that had gotten him. She’d run off with a rich real-estate mogul and Quint had become the laughingstock of Lincoln County.

“Gramps, I want you to have a complete checkup. You need blood work, scans, the whole nine yards. You’re not yourself and we both know it.”

Abe laughed gleefully. “I’m not acting like myself, am I? Just because I’m enjoying a little female company? I think any doc would say you’re the one who’s messed up.”

“What about Granny?” Quint challenged him. “Doesn’t she matter anymore?”

Abe’s expression suddenly softened and he patted Quint on the shoulder. “She ain’t here anymore, Quint. All I have is memories and photos. A man needs more and you ought to understand that.”

Lord, did his grandfather have romantic intentions toward the nurse? “Gramps, did you hire her to be your nurse or something more personal?” Quint asked point-blank.

Abe turned a completely innocent look on him. “Why, to be my nurse, of course. But if she so happens to stumble around and fall in love with me—well, I sure as heck ain’t gonna push her away. If you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, Quint knew all too well what his grandfather meant. He also knew that if he didn’t do something about this situation and soon, Abe was going to be hurt. In more ways than one.

Gazing thoughtfully in the direction of the ranch house, Quint rubbed a hand against his jaw. “I think I’ll stay for supper,” he suddenly announced.

Clearly skeptical, Abe asked, “Why? You thinkin’ you’re gonna hang around and horn in on your grandfather’s business?”

Quint looked at him. “No. I’m thinking that soup she was making smelled mighty good.”

He was also thinking that the moment he’d first walked into the kitchen, Maura Donovan had set off some sort of spark in him, a flash of heat that had taken Quint totally by surprise. Now he wanted to get closer to the woman, he decided. So close that he could see right into her pretty head. He could take a second look into her green eyes and found out for himself if that spark he’d felt had been real or imagined.

Though he wasn’t too sure which direction he wanted the decision to land…

Chapter Two

Two days later, on the dirt drive that led to the Apache Wells ranch house, Maura was finishing the last of a two-mile jog. The early afternoon sun was hot. Sweat sheened her body and dampened her red tank top. The thought of languishing over a tall glass of iced tea pushed her forward, until the musical ring of her cell phone sounded in the pocket of her shorts.

Pausing in the middle of the narrow road, she fished out the small instrument and was immediately surprised to see the caller was her mother. Now that the Donovan children were all grown and capable of running the Diamond D horse ranch without them, her parents, Fiona and Doyle Donovan, had become regular globe-trotters. Only two days ago they’d been in Ireland visiting relatives on both sides of their extensive families.

“Hello, Mother!”

“You’re out of breath,” Fiona observed. “What did you do, run to the phone?”

“No. I’m out jogging,” Maura explained.

“Oh. I can call back later.”

Having five siblings meant that getting any exclusive, one-on-one attention from their mother was rare and precious. Just having her mother call so quickly after her return home made Maura feel special.

“Nonsense. I can walk and talk for a while,” she assured the other woman. “It’s so good to hear your voice. When did you get home?”

“Late last night. Your father and I are so jet-lagged we’re just getting around to having breakfast. Dallas was the only one still up when we arrived last night and this afternoon everyone seems to be out of pocket.”

“Just because you and Dad live the life of luxury doesn’t mean your children can loll around in bed until midafternoon,” Maura teased as she started to the house.

“Hmm. It’s good to hear that we’ve taught you children good work ethics. And speaking of work, Dallas tells me you’re still with Mr. Cantrell.”

Before her parents had left for Ireland more than a month ago, Abe had not yet approached Maura about the job here at Apache Wells. But once she’d decided to take the old man’s offer, she’d called her parents in Ireland and told them about her decision. Neither had understood her choice to abruptly change jobs, but they’d hardly tried to deter her. At thirty-six, it had been years since her parents had tried to tell her what to do. And even if they did try, Maura was too stubborn and strong-minded not to take the path she chose for herself. Even if it might be the wrong path, she thought drily.

“That’s right.”

“So what are your duties? Does he keep you busy fetching and complaining?”

Maura smiled to herself. “Not in the least. Right now Abe is out riding range with the rest of the ranch hands. I don’t expect him in until later this afternoon.”

“Riding—” Fiona gasped. “I thought—if I remember correctly, Abe Cantrell is older than your father! And I thought he was ill and needed a nurse!”

The smile on Maura’s full lips deepened even more. “Abe is eighty-four. And he’s as healthy as a horse. Except for when he gets vertigo. And thankfully that’s only happened once since I’ve been here.”

There was a long pause and then Fiona said in a slow, pointed voice, “Maura, I may be butting in, but I’d like to know why you gave up a wonderful, good-paying job at the hospital for a man who only needs you occasionally?”

“Abe needs me more than occasionally, Mother.”

“You just assured me he was healthy and—”

“He needs me in other, emotional ways. Having me here makes him feel secure. Besides that, he’s lonely and starved for affection.”

“Maura!” Fiona said in a scolding tone. “You hardly know this man. His emotional needs aren’t your responsibility.”

Maura had told herself exactly that same thing. More than once. Yet for some reason she couldn’t explain to anyone, a part of her had connected to the old man the minute she’d first met him striding down a hallway at Sierra General. He’d been trying to find his way through the maze of corridors to the closest exit and Maura had offered her help. The two of them had hit it off instantly and before Abe had left the building, he’d offered her the private nursing job.

“Mother, I’m a nurse and Abe needs mental and physical nourishing. That’s what my job is all about,” Maura responded. “The degree of his need has nothing to do with things.”

On the other end of the line, she could hear her mother sighing softly. “You’ve gotten attached to this man. I can hear it in your voice,” Fiona said flatly.

“I suppose I have.”

“And what about Frankie, his daughter-in-law? And his grandson—what is his name?”

“Quint.”

“Yes, Quint. What about them, aren’t they around to see to Abe’s needs?”

Maura talked to Frankie on a frequent basis and the woman had made it clear that even though she checked in on Abe from time to time, Quint was the one relative the old man wanted and needed in his life. Frankie had also assured her that she was going to keep mum about Maura and let Abe be the one to tell his grandson about having a nurse. Obviously Frankie had kept her word. Two days ago, when he’d appeared unannounced in the kitchen, he’d been shocked to find Maura there and she’d been totally tilted off-kilter by his presence. Since then it had been impossible to forget the strong physical reaction she’d felt toward the man. Just thinking about him made her feel utterly foolish.

“The Cantrells are busy people. Just like you and Dad. They have lives of their own to deal with.”

In fact, the night Quint had sat down to eat supper with her and Abe, he’d received some sort of important call and hadn’t even taken the time to gulp more than three bites before he’d quickly departed the ranch. Abe had clearly been disappointed when his grandson had rushed off. As for Maura, she’d felt deflated as she’d watched the man dash out the door. A part of her had wanted more of his company while the other part had been leery of the strange feelings he’d elicited in her.

“I’m sorry if I sounded fussy, darling,” Fiona said after a pause. “If you like the job, that’s all that matters. But I can’t see why you’d want to isolate yourself out there on Apache Wells, though. It’s miles and miles from anything.”

Because the isolation was soothing to her fractured nerves, Maura thought. Because after going through a humiliating, heartbreaking divorce, not to mention the unwanted chase by Dr. Weston, Maura needed the calm quiet of Abe’s home to restore herself.

“My truck is in good working order and I can drive into town whenever I want. I promise to see you and Dad soon.”

“I’m holding you to that promise and—”

Fiona broke off as Maura caught the sound of her father’s voice booming in the background for his wife to hang up the phone and come to breakfast.

“You’d better put the phone down, Mother. Dad never did like waiting on his meals.”

Laughing, Fiona said goodbye and quickly closed the connection between them. Maura put her own phone back in her pocket and trotted on to the house.

She was nearing the porch when the screen door pushed open and Abe stepped onto the small alcove.

“There you are!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been huntin’ all over for you.”

“I’ve been out getting a little exercise,” Maura said with a smile. “Did everything go okay on your ride? Any dizziness?”

He grinned at her and Maura thought that it must be true that the older a man got the more he resembled the boy he’d once been. Abe was one of the most mischievous, prank-playing men she’d ever been around and that included her three rowdy brothers.

“Not even one little spin. Everything went as fine as spring rain. Got the cattle moved and the old pump off the broken windmill. We’ll have it fixed in a few days.”

Maura gestured toward one of the two lawn chairs grouped together on the small porch. “Sit down and I’ll get you coffee or something,” she suggested.

“Don’t have time. We got some green colts penned and some of the boys are gonna try to halter ‘em. I’d better be there. These young’ns try to hurry things along. I have a hell of a time tryin’ to teach them that when you’re dealin’ with horses, the slow way is the fastest way.”

Maura smiled. How many times had she heard her own father say the same thing, she wondered fondly. Like Abe, Doyle Donovan was a horseman and would be until he died.

Turning toward the house, Abe motioned for her to follow. “Come along inside,” Abe said to her. “I’ve got a chore for ya. That is, if you don’t mind doin’ it.”

Curious, Maura followed the old man into the house, where he immediately walked over to a rolltop desk that was situated in one corner of the small living room. Inside the desk, he pulled a large white envelope from one of the storage slots, then waved it in Maura’s face.

“This came in the mail yesterday. Quint needs to look it over. Pronto. I called him last night, but he says he can’t get back over here for a few days. I’d like for you to take these papers over to the Golden Spur.”

Go to Quint Cantrell’s ranch? The thought of seeing the man again sent a thrill of excitement zinging through Maura. Yet at the same time, she was wary of meeting him on her own without Abe’s presence to act as a buffer. The other evening, during his short visit, Quint had been polite enough to her, yet she’d sensed he wasn’t all that pleased about Abe’s having a nurse. If he decided to really jump her out about the issue, she didn’t know how she would handle him.

Lord, Maura, you wouldn’t know how to handle Quint Cantrell under any circumstance. He’s way too much man for a woman like you. And don’t you forget it.

“I—well, if it’s important to you, I’d be glad to,” she finally said. After all, the man was paying her an extravagant wage for being his private nurse. And it was her job to see that he didn’t fret unduly over things. “Is the ranch hard to find?”

“No trouble at all,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll make you a little map while you go fix yourself up or whatever it is you women do before you leave the house.”

Maura wasn’t about to fix herself up for Quint Cantrell, but she couldn’t say that to Abe. Instead she went to her room and hurriedly showered, then changed into a cool white shirt over a pair of Levi’s. After swiping a brush through her hair and a bit of peach color across her lips, she returned to the living room and found Abe waiting with the map and papers in hand.

As he watched her approach, a wide grin spread across his face. “Here you go, honey. The map is easy to follow. Just take your time and don’t get in no hurry to get back here. I feel good. Not nary a vertigo spell. Maybe I’m plumb over ‘em.”

Abe’s way of putting things made Maura want to laugh out loud. Instead, she said with a straight face, “If you’re plumb over them, Abe, then you probably don’t need me to keep hanging around here.”

Frowning now, he reached out a bony hand to grip one of her shoulders. “Maura, now I was just tryin’ to be positive. We both know that those damned spells could hit me right out of the blue. And I ain’t lyin’ when I say that they’re scary things. Makes me feel like I’m dyin’. What would I do if you weren’t around to get my head straight and all those little marbles back in place?”

He had ten men working here on this end of the ranch, not to mention several more on the western half of Apache Wells property. Except for the nights, the man was never alone. True, none of the ranch hands had any medical training, but then Abe wasn’t looking for them or her to keep him physically safe, she realized. It was becoming obvious to her that he wanted her here for other, emotional reasons, and for now Maura was content to leave things at that.

“They’re not marbles that make you dizzy, they’re pieces of calcium that float around,” she pointed out to him. “But don’t worry, Abe. I’m not leaving. I just want to make sure that you’re still okay with me being here.”

The worried frown on his face eased into a genuine smile. “I’m better than okay. Havin’ you around is almost like havin’ Jenna back.”

Maura patted his arm. Since she’d moved onto the ranch, Abe had talked to her a lot about his late wife. He was clearly still in love with the woman and missed her greatly. She empathized with the old man’s loss. Especially now that she was on her own and her bed was as empty as her heart.

“I’m glad,” she said softly, then clearing her throat, she promised, “I’ll be back later this evening.”

An hour later, on Highway 380, Maura very nearly missed the small sign on the left side of the road. Golden Spur were the only words written on the piece of tin nailed to a cedar fence post, but that was enough to tell Maura it was Cantrell property. The simple sign also told her that there was nothing showy about Quint Cantrell.

Turning into the entrance, she drove her Ford over the wooden cattle guard, then pulled to one side of the dusty road to study the map Abe had sketched for her.

From this point she would travel north for ten miles, then take the left fork in the road and drive due west for five more miles. The ranch house, Abe had told her, sat at the foot of a bald mountain.

Before she could take note of the butterflies in her stomach, Maura lifted her chin and stepped down on the gas. There wasn’t any need for her nerves to jump around like a swarm of grasshoppers, she assured herself. It wasn’t like she was going to see the man for personal reasons. All she was doing was making a delivery.

Normally, Quint was rarely in the house during the daytime. He couldn’t waste the daylight. But today the wire stretchers had malfunctioned and barbed wire had popped loose, lashing backward to catch Quint’s forearm. The long barbs had ripped the denim fabric of his shirt like a piece of fragile paper and torn a deep gash into his flesh.

The bleeding had forced him to come to the house and make an effort to patch up the wound. Now as he stood at the bathroom sink, pouring alcohol into the angry lesion and gritting his teeth against the sting, he heard a faint knock at the front door.

Figuring it was the man he’d been working with, he yelled out, “Come on in, Jake. Get yourself a beer from the fridge, while I try to wrap up this thing.”

“Um—this isn’t Jake,” a female voice called back.

Stunned by the sound, Quint wrapped a small towel around the wounded arm and hurried out of the bathroom and down a short hallway to the living room. The moment he spotted Maura standing just inside the door, he halted in his tracks.

“What are you doing here?” he asked without preamble.

She answered his question by holding up a long white envelope. “The papers your grandfather wanted you to have. He sent me to deliver them.”