“Or two?” Maureen suggested slyly. “For the baby’s sake.”

  Chandler glanced skeptically at his mother. “I don’t believe she’ll stick around for a second night. Unless you can persuade her—for the baby’s sake.”

  Maureen gave him a clever smile. “All right, son. I’ll give it a try.”

  He leaned over and pecked a kiss at the end of her eyebrow. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She didn’t respond and by the time they reached the end of the hallway, Chandler was shocked to see a tear trickling down her cheek. Maureen Hollister never cried or rarely showed an emotional crack in her tough, ranch-woman armor.

  Before she could shoulder her way through the swinging doors leading into the kitchen, he caught her by the arm. “Mom, I see a tear in your eye! What in the world is wrong?”

  She blinked. “Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking.” Smiling wanly, she cupped her hand against the side of his face. “Have I ever told you just how much you remind me of Joel?”

  A tight knot of grief twisted in the middle of Chandler’s chest. “Oh, Mom, don’t compare me to Dad. It isn’t fair. I could never be the man that he was.”

  “Not exactly. But you are like him in so many ways. And that’s a comfort to me, Chandler. Always remember that,” she said gently, then her mood instantly brightened and, smiling, she urged him through the swinging doors. “Let’s see what Reeva has left for you in the warming drawer. You might have to share it with your little Texas stray.”

  She was a stray all right, Chandler thought. But she didn’t belong to him. Like any other stray he’d picked up in the past, he could afford to offer her food and a temporary home. But he wasn’t about to risk offering her a piece of his heart.

  Chapter Three

  By the time Maureen returned with a tray of food Roslyn had taken a quick shower and dressed in a pair of yellow cotton pajamas and matching robe.

  “If you’d like to prop yourself up in bed and eat that’s fine,” Maureen told her. “You won’t hurt the spread if you spill anything.”

  “That’s okay,” Roslyn told her. “I’ll just sit here in the armchair. It’s very comfortable.”

  She settled herself in the soft green chair and allowed Maureen to place the tray on her lap. On it, there was a plate filled with braised beef ribs, a small bowl of charro beans, two flour tortillas and a dish of apple-crumb cobbler. Just looking at the food caused her half-empty stomach to growl with need.

  “I thought I wasn’t hungry. But looking at this makes me feel like I’m starved,” Roslyn admitted. “Thank you for bringing it up, Mrs. Hollister. I, uh, never expected you to wait on me like this.”

  “I’m Maureen to you. And it was no problem bringing the meal to you. I hope you like it. Reeva is a wonderful cook. We’ve had her in the family for years.” She took a seat on the foot of the bed. “You don’t mind if I stay while you eat, do you?”

  “Why no. It’s nice to have company,” Roslyn admitted. “For the past two days I’ve pretty much been talking to myself. Traveling alone gets a little lonesome.”

  Maureen smiled with understanding, and not for the first time since she’d met Chandler’s mother, Roslyn was totally awed by the woman. Not only was she beautiful and strong, but she was also warm and genuine.

  “I know what you mean. I drive up to Prescott fairly often. Which is not that far, but it’s much nicer when someone makes the trip with me. Chandler tells me you’re from Fort Worth.”

  Roslyn nodded as she swallowed a piece of the tender beef. “I was born in Fort Worth and have lived there all my twenty-five years.”

  “Twenty-five. Oh, dear, at your age, I’d been married for four years. Blake was about two years old then and I was pregnant with Chandler. That’s been a long time ago.”

  Roslyn’s mother, Geneva, had been thirty years old before she’d married Martin. Two years later, she’d given birth to her one and only child, Roslyn. She’d been a fragile woman who’d never had the strength to show any sort of independence. All of her life, she’d stood in Martin’s shadow and lived only to please him. Roslyn couldn’t imagine this woman knuckling under to anyone.

  “That’s hard to imagine,” Roslyn admitted. “You look so young.”

  “You’re too kind.” Chuckling, she glanced down at herself. “I’m not exactly looking my best. I did have on a dress for dinner, but then duty called at the foaling barn.”

  “Do you have lots of horses and cows on the ranch?” Roslyn asked curiously.

  Maureen nodded. “Holt can tell you the exact number of horses. Probably somewhere between a hundred and fifty to a hundred and seventy-five head. Blake keeps count of the cows. They number in the thousands. That’s counting the ones down at Red Bluff and on our grazing land near Prescott.”

  “Oh, it sounds like Three Rivers Ranch is a large business.”

  “Very large,” Maureen said. “It takes a lot of hands to keep everything going. Along with me and Blake and Holt and Chandler.”

  Roslyn tore off a piece of the tortilla and dipped it into the spicy beans. She’d never tasted anything quite so delicious. Or maybe going twelve hours without eating had left her so famished a piece of burnt toast would have been tasty.

  “And your husband?” Roslyn asked. “What part does he do on the ranch?”

  Maureen cleared her throat. “Joel died a few years ago—from a horse incident. Before that, my husband was the general manager of the ranch. After Joel died, Blake took over the position. Believe me, at that time my oldest son didn’t want to step into his father’s boots and I couldn’t blame him. It’s a heavy responsibility. But as the oldest and most qualified, he had to...well, become the head of the ranch so to speak.”

  Roslyn wasn’t expecting to hear anything like this from Chandler’s mother and the fact that this family hadn’t gone without their share of heartache made her feel a kinship with this woman.

  “I’m so sorry, Maureen. I shouldn’t have asked. I just assumed that—”

  Roslyn waved a dismissive hand to halt her words of apology. “Don’t be sorry. Dear God, I’ve been a blessed woman. I was given many wonderful years with Joel and I have six beautiful children to show for it. So tell me about you. Do you have family back in Fort Worth?”

  Roslyn couldn’t see that holding back the truth from this woman would do any good. She’d be leaving here in the morning. Even if Maureen decided to take it upon herself to call Martin DuBose, something Roslyn sincerely doubted the woman would do, there was no way her father could get here that quickly. Unless he chartered a plane.

  “I have a father and a paternal aunt. My mother died five years ago of leukemia.”

  Maureen shook her head. “Twenty years old is too young to lose your mother. But we don’t have a choice in those matters, do we?”

  The gentle, understanding expression on Maureen’s face made Roslyn want to lay her head on the woman’s shoulder and weep until she could weep no more.

  “No,” Roslyn said, her voice thick with emotion. “And it was very hard seeing her go through years of treatments and suffering. But I...really miss her. Especially now with the baby coming. And my father—he’s very condemning about my choice not to marry the baby’s father. You see, he’s from an older generation. And the DuBose name is important to him in the social circles of Fort Worth and Dallas. I’ve pretty much become an embarrassment to him. But... I can’t let that bother me anymore. My only concern is my baby. And making sure it has a nice, loving home.”

  “And that is exactly what you should be concerned about,” Maureen said firmly. “When is your baby due?”

  “In four weeks. I told Chandler that’s why I was traveling now. I need to get to where I’m going before the baby is born.”

  Maureen left her seat on the bed and came to stand in front of Roslyn. “I don’t want to sound bossy, or have you thinking I’m trying to tell you what to do. I’m sure you’ve already heard plenty of that from your father. But as a mother, I feel like I should advise you that you shouldn’t put too much stock in your due date. Babies, especially first ones, can be unpredictable. You really need to be settled now. With someone around to help you in case you do go into labor.”

  Not for anything did she want Maureen to see how alone and anxious she’d been feeling about the future. Yes, she had plenty of money for housing and living expenses, she had plenty of medical insurance to cover her and the baby’s hospital care. Yet none of that could make up for having a loving man at her side.

  “You’re right, Maureen. And I was hoping to get away from Fort Worth last month so I would have more time. But Dad always seemed to be watching my every move. Finally, three days ago, he flew up to Wyoming on business, so I managed to make my getaway.”

  “You didn’t want him to know you were leaving?”

  Roslyn grimaced as she stirred a spoon through the beans. “No. There would’ve been an ugly scene. He would’ve done everything in his power to stop me. You see, he wants me to think I’m incapable of taking care of myself or my baby. He wants me to stay dependent on him.”

  “So he can more or less control your life,” Maureen said sagely. “Some parents have a hard time letting go.”

  Roslyn could’ve told Chandler’s mother that her father had more issues than just letting go of his child. He’d controlled every aspect of his wife’s life. Even after Geneva’s death, he’d gone against her wishes to be buried next to her parents in California. Instead, he’d thought it more fitting to do it his way with a lavish funeral and burial in Fort Worth. But Maureen didn’t need to know about the DuBose family problems. It was bad enough to admit she’d had to resort to running away in order to escape the man.

  Sighing, she looked up at Chandler’s mother. “Forgive me, Maureen. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. And it...sounds so petty. Except...it isn’t.”

  Maureen laid a comforting hand on Roslyn’s shoulder. “I’m glad you can talk to me. Just remember that family problems don’t get solved in a day. Tomorrow things will look brighter, I promise. Right now just concentrate on finishing your meal and I’ll pick up the tray in a few minutes.”

  She gave her shoulder another pat, then started out of the room. When she reached the door, Roslyn called to her.

  “Maureen, thank you, again. And please thank Chandler for me. He was very kind to help me the way he did.”

  Maureen gave her a wink. “He may not look it, but Chandler’s a big softie. I’ll give him your thanks.”

  She gently closed the door behind her and Roslyn, lost in thought, lowered her fork and looked around her.

  Three Rivers Ranch house was not like anything she’d expected. Instead of a Spanish-style hacienda, it was a three-story wood frame. The inside had a rustic feel, while at the same time being warm and comfortable.

  Judging by her surroundings, Roslyn could see the Hollisters didn’t lack for money. Yet if she’d met Chandler or Maureen on the street, she would’ve never guessed they were wealthy. Unlike her father, who never failed to flaunt his riches.

  Stop it, Roslyn. Quit thinking about your father. Quit blaming or judging him for being rich. His need for wealth and high regard from others are his own problems. Not yours. You’re out of it now.

  But was she really? Roslyn questioned the grim voice going off in her head. True, these past two days she’d been on the road, she’d been out from under his thumb. But would she ever be able to move past the emotional prison he’d kept her and her mother in for all those years? She had to think so. She had to believe that somewhere, someday, she would meet a man who would love her just for being her and together they’d make a home filled with warmth and happiness.

  * * *

  The next morning, as soon as Chandler arrived at work, he expected Trey to start badgering him with questions about Roslyn. But it wasn’t until after they’d dealt with the colts on the Johnson ranch and were driving back to the clinic that Trey finally brought up the subject.

  “So what happened with your visitor last night?” Trey asked. “Did you finally get her sent on her way?”

  Roslyn hadn’t been his visitor, but correcting Trey on that point would be useless. “I guess you could put it that way. I took her home to the ranch.”

  Trey shifted slightly in the seat and gawked at him. “The hell you say!”

  Chandler very nearly laughed. “That’s right. In her condition she was in no shape to be left alone at a hotel. I thought it best to let Mom take over.”

  “Oh. Guess that was a surprise for Maureen.”

  “Mom is always ready for anything.” Chandler glanced at his watch. He’d left Three Rivers at five this morning. More than four hours had passed since he’d operated on the five colts for Mr. Johnson and headed back to Wickenburg. By now he figured Roslyn was champing at the bit to get on the road again. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn she’d already caught a ride into town with one of the hands and drove off in that sleek little Jaguar she considered impractical.

  “Is she planning to stay around Wickenburg?” Trey asked.

  Chandler couldn’t foresee that happening, even if a part of him wanted it to. Which didn’t make one iota of sense. She was far too young for him, not to mention pregnant with another man’s child. Even if he was in the market for romance, he didn’t need to set his sights on a woman like Roslyn. Still, it would be nice if she stayed around until the baby was born. Just so he’d know the two of them were okay.

  “No. She says she’s headed for California. She has property there.”

  “Well, she sure is a—”

  “Pretty little thing,” Chandler said, finishing for him.

  Trey shot him an annoyed look. “Now how did you know I was going to say that?”

  “Because you said it last night and you tend to repeat yourself.”

  “Well, I wasn’t wrong about that, was I? I mean, I’m not a man who goes around looking at pregnant women, but she was nice. Kinda soft and sweet. You know what I mean?”

  Chandler hadn’t thought about the softness or sweetness of a woman for a long time. It was something he tried not to think about. Sure, in his younger years he’d done the dating merry-go-round. He’d even had a couple of relationships he’d believed would turn into something more serious. But with both of those women, his job and the ranch had gotten in the way. Since then he’d decided to keep his mind on his work and away from romance.

  “Yeah, Trey. I know what you mean.” He glanced over at the tall, raw-boned man, who usually had an affable smile on his face. “Just why haven’t you gotten yourself a wife, anyway? You ought to have a wife and three kids already.”

  Trey looked at him and sputtered, “Wife and kids! Hell, you’re six years older than me and you don’t have a family. Why are you picking on me? Just think about it, Doc. If I had a wife she probably wouldn’t like it if I got the urge to go to the Fandango on a Friday night. She probably wouldn’t like me going on any night. And that might cause big problems.”

  Chandler chuckled. “Yeah, big problems.”

  At the intersection of Highways 60 and 83, Chandler made a left. After two more miles the clinic came into view. As soon as he turned into the parking area and drove past the building, he glanced to the spot where he’d parked Roslyn’s car last night.

  “Well, what do you know, it’s still there,” he murmured more to himself than to Trey.

  “What’s still there? What are you talking about?”

  He braked the truck to a halt beneath a pair of Joshua trees and killed the motor. “Roslyn’s car. It’s still there. I thought she’d be gone by now. I guess Mom must have done some fast talking.”

  Trey winked at him. “Whose idea was that? Yours or your mom’s?”

  Chandler shook his head. “I don’t have time for your nonsense. This place is running over with horse vans and cattle trailers. Go see what’s going on at the barns. If it’s anything you or Jimmy can’t handle, tell them they’ll have to wait their turn.”

  “Got it, Doc.”

  Trey hurried away in the direction of the barn and Chandler headed to the clinic. As he walked, he pulled out his cell phone and checked his messages. Near the top was a new one from his mother.

  Roslyn is staying one more night.

  He slipped the phone back into his pocket and as he entered the back door of the clinic, he very nearly collided with Cybil. The tall, middle-aged woman with a mass of frizzy blond curls had worked as his main assistant with the small animal patients for the past five years. Chandler relied on her to keep things moving smoothly and somehow she managed to do it.

  “Good thing there’s a smile on your face, Doc. The waiting room is jammed this morning and Mr. Fields is already grumbling about missing his morning coffee at Conchita’s.”

  Mr. Fields was in his eighties and believed his age gave him the right to talk as loudly and sharply as he wanted, no matter where he happened to be or whom he was addressing. “Don’t tell me that dog of his has swallowed another piece of plastic.”

  Chandler started walking down the hallway to his office and Cybil made a U-turn to follow him.

  “No. It’s his cat this time,” she answered. “A facial cyst. I’ve put her and Mr. Fields in examining room two.”

  In his office, Chandler pulled on a lab coat and hung a stethoscope around his neck. “What’s in room one?”

  “A dog with a nose full of prickly pear spines. And room three is a rooster. Something is wrong with his eye.”

  “While I deal with the cat, sedate the dog,” he ordered, then glanced questioningly at Cybil. “And a rooster, you say? It’s not a fighting cock, is it? If it is, I’ll have to report it to law officials.”

 

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