The Convenient Cowboy

by Heidi Hormel

  “No. It’s not time.”

  His hand shook where it covered hers on her belly. “The baby didn’t get the memo.”

  She looked at Spence, whose face was white. What did he mean the baby was coming? “We have weeks. I have weeks to get ready. I don’t have diapers.”

  “Not anymore... I don’t think... Come on, we’ve got to go. Calvin, help me.” She felt herself being pulled to her feet and shuffled along. Then another pain started low and hard. She panted as she tried to rise above it, but the pain dragged her down, made her think that she’d never feel anything else. Then it was gone. She was in the truck, buckled in, with Cal’s little hand patting her shoulder.

  “Olympia, honey...breathe, remember? The moaning...it’s... Breathe, that’ll help,” Spence said, his voice low and strained.

  “Hmm... Moan... I wasn’t moaning. Cowgirls don’t moan.”

  “Breathe,” Spence said, glancing over at her. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

  “I’m not having the baby yet.”

  “That’s not how it works.” Spence grasped her hand. “You’ll be fine. The baby will be fine. It’s not really early. Calvin came even earlier, and look at him.”

  “Yeah, Limpy, look at me. Peanut will be fine. Dad said that Mommy thought she’d eaten a bad chile rellenos, then there I was.”

  “Yep. Just like that.”

  Olympia shook her head. She needed just a little more time to work things out. “They’re going to send me home and tell me to put my feet up and have you guys wait on me.” She ground together her back teeth, refusing to get pulled under by the pain.

  “We already do that.” Spence’s grin didn’t show off his dimple, and the line between his brows hadn’t gone away.

  “It’s probably those new s’mores that Cal and I invented. Just indigestion.”

  “It’s okay, Limpy. Dad and I will be there, and we’ll make sure that you and Peanut are okay. The needles aren’t so bad. Just don’t look when they put them in. That’s what I did.” He patted her shoulder again, and his sweet breath wafted over her cheek.

  “You need to get back in your seat belt,” she said automatically—just like a mom. Dear Lord. What was she doing? She pressed against the headrest, bracing for the next contraction and for the wave of love that hit her thinking of the Peanut in her arms. Her baby. How could she ever have thought she’d walk away from their baby? “If anything happens,” she said urgently but softly so only Spence could hear, “you’ll make sure Peanut is okay. Right?”

  “Nothing will happen. Missy said the same thing. The books—”

  “Promise me. I know what I said all along about the baby, about...well, everything.” The pain swelled, but she forced the air out to finish her sentence. “But really, I want to have a family. I want to be a family. I don’t know how it works, though—”

  “Of course we’ll always be family.” Spence’s hand covered hers and pressed as the pain wrapped around her again. This couldn’t be right. There was supposed to be space between contractions. Time when it didn’t hurt.

  “Limpy, you’re our family, just like Peanut and Petunia and Pasquale and even Muffin. Remember, I drew the picture and explained. No matter what happens, you’ll always be family. Like Mommy isn’t always at the house or Uncle Pay or Aunt Vonda, but they’re still family. Right, Dad? Just pick up the phone and call, and family is there. That’s what it means, Limpy.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Spence couldn’t stop staring at his new daughter—Audie Sage James MacCormack. Swaddled tight in her blanket, the baby looked tuckered out after making an early appearance—but not too early, the doctor said. As much as he wanted to just stand and stare, it was time for Olympia to see her daughter and know that she was perfect. He heard the change in the tenor of conversation among the nurses and doctor. He didn’t hear Olympia.

  “Mr. MacCormack.” A nurse stepped into his space. “We need you to sign this.” Another brightly dressed nurse plucked the baby from him.

  He watched his daughter get settled in the bassinet, until his attention was caught by the huddle of personnel around Olympia. “What’s wrong?” He tried to move past the nurse. She stepped in front of him.

  “You need to sign this.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” he repeated.

  “Spence?” Rickie asked from the doorway to the room, holding Calvin’s hand. She’d gone to get drinks for them.

  The doctor’s voice roared above the noise in Spence’s head. “We’ve got to go now. Call the OR.”

  His heart stopped. Audie let out a squeak. The nurse led him into the hall, where Rickie started to cry. He looked between her and the nurse with the paper. “What’s going on?”

  “Your wife is bleeding. We may need to do a hysterectomy to stop it.”

  He gasped.

  “Postpartum hemorrhage. Serious but treatable,” Payson said, his clear and clinical voice steadying Spence.

  “Yes,” the nurse said. “We need the permission. There isn’t time—”

  “Spence,” Payson said. “It’s probably nothing. Just placenta that didn’t deliver or a little tear. They’re just using the OR as a precaution.”

  “But she wants me to sign—”

  “That’s to cover their butts from lawyers like you,” Payson joked. Spence didn’t laugh.

  “She couldn’t have any more babies,” Spence whispered.

  “It’s the worst-case scenario. That’s what we docs do.”

  Spence searched his brother’s face for the truth. “But it could happen. Don’t lie.”

  “It’s not likely.”

  “Sir,” the nurse said. “We need the permission now. They’re prepping her.”

  “Why the hell can’t she sign this? She should be signing this,” he said, his voice rising.

  “Daddy, what’s wrong? You swore. Can I see Limpy?”

  “She... They...”

  “Move,” the normally placid Dr. Neiman shouted as she pushed Olympia’s bed through the door. Spence stared at his too-still wife, her face as pale as skim milk and her eyes closed.

  He ran after the bed, ignoring the nurse who spoke to him as she tugged at his arm. Doors thudded open and he didn’t slow down.

  “Spence, get back to the waiting room,” Dr. Neiman yelled at him. “We’re going to the OR.”

  “Not until I talk with Olympia.”

  “There’s no time,” the doctor said, standing guard outside the doors to the brightly lit operating room. “She’s bleeding, and I’ve got to stop it.”

  “I can’t sign this. She would never forgive me for not talking to her. How can I make a decision like this for her?”

  Spence was desperate. He had to see Olympia. He had to tell her to hang on, tell her that he loved her. Dear Lord. Why hadn’t he told her before? He couldn’t let her go into surgery without her knowing. What if this was—?

  The doctor’s voice sharpened as she said, “You have as long as it takes me to scrub in and the anesthesiologist to get here. Suit him up.”

  * * *

  “OLYMPIA,” HE SAID through the mask.

  “Don’t touch anything,” the nurse told him sternly.

  Olympia’s arms were strapped onto boards. Tears streaked her face. “Olympia,” he whispered. “Everything’s fine. Payson said it’s just a precaution. He’s sure. Maybe a few stitches. Do you understand?” Her eyelids moved up slowly and her gaze took a moment to land on him.

  “Peanut?”

  “She’s fine. Her uncle is with her.”

  Olympia licked her lips. “As long as Peanut is okay, that’s fine.” Her eyes closed again. “Whatever happens to me doesn’t matter.”

  “The hell it doesn’t matter.” He knelt beside Olympia’s
head and stroked her cheek. Her tabby-cat eyes opening enough that he could see her fatigue and something that frightened him. “Olympia, Audie needs you. Calvin needs you...I need you. If anything happens to you...” He swallowed hard. “Sweetheart...darlin’...without you, there is no family. There’s no happiness for me. You’re my cowgirl, my brave, fearless, lovely... Oh, God, Olympia, you can’t—”

  * * *

  OLYMPIA’S EYELIDS WEIGHED a ton. She forced them to stay open, to keep her gaze locked on Spence’s. She wanted him to understand. “Don’t plan to go to the big rodeo in the sky,” she tried to joke, but her mouth was so dry that the words came out cracked and weak.

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “I’m not.” But her head felt disconnected from her body. “I have a lot to stick around for. Peanut. Cal. You.” She put everything into those few inadequate words, the ones she’d been holding back. “The horses, too. Got to get Muffin sorted out.”

  “Shut up about the damned horse.”

  “Swearing,” she whispered automatically, and thought she smiled.

  At the corner of her vision, she saw Dr. Neiman looking angrily at Spence. “Thirty seconds. Sign the damned paper.”

  “No. I—” Spence looked haunted.

  “What?” she asked, working hard to keep him in focus.

  “They need permission for the surgery.”

  “Surgery?” She tried to lick her lips. Everything felt numb.

  “It’s probably nothing serious.” She heard his hesitation, and the noise of the nurses and machines faded. “They may need to do a hysterectomy. I couldn’t... I just couldn’t make that decision for you. They said you couldn’t sign because... You know those lawyers.”

  Her mouth was so dry. “Want to be around for you...our kids—”

  He covered her lips with his fingers. “I love you. I don’t care if there are no more babies. I don’t care... I just want you.”

  Gathering her strength, she whispered fiercely, “I love you, Spencer David MacCormack.” There. She’d said it. Everything would be fine. Admitting she loved him and accepting that her life had taken a huge left turn lifted a weight that she hadn’t even known she’d been carrying around.

  “Time,” Dr. Neiman said. “Sign the paper.”

  Olympia saw a clipboard come at Spence. He signed with a shaking pen. “I love you,” he said again, as if he couldn’t repeat it often enough. That was fine with her. She wanted to hear it again and again.

  * * *

  BLINKING HURT, NOT as much as the tight pounding at his temples, and none of it mattered. Spence’s wife and daughter were okay. No thanks to him. He rubbed his forehead, hoping that he could wipe away the pain as he paced outside Olympia’s room. He thought he heard something and burst in.

  “What?” Olympia croaked. She was on her feet, leaning against a nurse’s arm.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course. After they did the exam, I wanted to go to the bathroom—”

  “I could have helped you.”

  “You should go home and sleep.”

  “Not while you’re still in the hospital. Who knows what trouble you’ll get into or what you’ll sign if I’m not here.”

  As the nurse settled Olympia on the bed, she said, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes with the baby. She’s done with her treatment for today, and I’m sure she’ll be hungry and wanting Mommy.”

  Spence didn’t move. Olympia looked nearly as white as the sheets and dark circles ringed her eyes. She didn’t look like a woman who could nurse and care for a baby—she looked as if she should still be in intensive care. He pulled out his phone, intending to call—

  “Put that away,” Olympia said with that steely voice she used on the horses.

  “I’m calling Payson. Maybe he can talk to the doctors. You should still be in ICU.”

  “No.”

  “Have you looked in the mirror?”

  “I’m just tired. Rebuilding blood takes time. If you’d let me eat pudding, it’d help.”

  “Don’t joke.”

  “I know how bad it was, but I’m better now and so is Peanut.”

  “Audie,” he corrected automatically. A smile stretched across Olympia’s face. “It’s obvious to me that neither you nor your doctors understand. Wait until they get my paperwork.”

  “Stop, Spence. Enough. I’m fine or will be. Jaundice happens to a lot of babies. A little time under the light and she’ll be fine.”

  He wanted to go to Olympia. He wanted to grab her and hug her, to make sure that she never went away, that nothing bad happened to her. But he’d already proved that he was piss-poor at keeping her safe. “Calvin nearly died from a heart condition, and I can barely scrape together the funds to pay for it—”

  “Missy’s parents would have—”

  “He’s my son. I take care of my own family. If I don’t do that, then what am I?” God. He sounded so pathetic, so needy. He glanced at Olympia, expecting to see disgust and resentment on her face, the look that Missy had gotten when he’d told her that they couldn’t afford something.

  “Oh, Spence, come here,” Olympia said, holding out her hand.

  He saw it shaking, and his chest tightened. “I can’t. I can’t—”

  His wife, the woman he loved—why had he waited so long to tell her? He’d almost lost her. If he had... Now he was letting her down. How was he going to live with his worry and failure?

  “If you don’t get your butt over here, I’m coming to you.” Olympia sat up in bed.

  He hurried over, easing her back down, tucking in the covers, wanting to keep her safe. “Stop. Don’t you understand? You nearly died.”

  “I know. I was there. I remember you in the operating room, bullying your way in there before you’d sign anything. Dr. Neiman told me that she almost called security.” Her mouth curved into a grin.

  “I couldn’t sign that paper. I had to—”

  She reached up and grabbed his hand, her fingers chilly but strong. “I know Peanut and I scared you, but we’re okay. Just like Cal’s okay. You were the dad. The big, strong man of the house. You made sure your family was safe. You did a good job, Spence. You cowboyed up. You would do anything for the people you love.”

  She tugged on his hand, and he collapsed onto the edge of her bed, suddenly needing the solid warmth of her presence. “Not much of a job. I just stood there.”

  “I knew you were there. Peanut knows you’re there. Sometimes that’s all anyone needs. You can’t fix everything, you know.”

  “God, don’t I know it. If I’d been able to fix everything, Missy wouldn’t need to be in rehab. Calvin wouldn’t ever need another surgery, and Audie wouldn’t be stuck under some damned bili light.”

  “But since you’re not God...or even a doctor...maybe you need to focus on what you can do. You know, like sit here with me so I don’t get bored. Go home and sleep so you can be awake with Cal and take care of Petunia, Pasquale and Muffin. All that stuff matters. Maybe more than the big stuff. That everyday stuff... You know, I’m beginning to think that’s what really makes a parent. I hope so anyway, because that’s about all I have going for me.”

  * * *

  THE POSTPREGNANCY HORMONES were the only explanation Olympia could come up with for sounding like Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. She reached out and patted Spence’s knee as he sat beside her, head down. The warm fuzzies in her chest fired up as she caught Spence’s black-licorice scent. She recalled that aroma somewhere during the darkness that had overshadowed Peanut’s birth. What she remembered with a clarity that would stay with her forever was when he’d said that he loved her. She smiled. The two of them were a mess, loving each other and keeping it to themselves. They’d had to wait until a surgical drama of soap-opera proportions to admit what everyone
had known, if Lavonda and Jessie were to be believed.

  “I almost lost you,” Spence whispered, his voice hoarse. “What would I have done?”

  Her poor man. “Go home and get sleep. You’re just tired. You’ll be back to large and in charge tomorrow.” His hand convulsively tightened on hers.

  “Don’t joke. Don’t freakin’ joke about this. I can’t... I don’t...jeez.” Like a horse who’d been ridden too long and hard, his head hung down, swaying from side to side, dazed, stunned, exhausted but wanting to go on. The stallion protecting his herd and keeping them safe.

  “Spence, we’re fine. We’re all fine.”

  “For now.”

  “For now. That’s all we can ever count on, isn’t it? And for now I’m relaxed and sassy. Peanut is snoozing under a sun light, like the diva she’ll be, and Cal is being spoiled by everyone. He’s in pig heaven. Or maybe it’s javelina heaven?” She watched his face closely and made a note of the tension in his body.

  “What will Calvin do when we have to take the creature to the sanctuary? Huh? He’ll be heartbroken.”

  “He and I talked about it. We decided we’ll be sad for forty-six minutes, and then we’ll be happy and talk about all the fun javelina stuff Petunia’ll do with her friends. He’s a smart kid. He knows that she’s not a pet, that she belongs out in the desert. But I’ll bet he’ll use the whole I-miss-Petunia thing to lobby for a dog or a pony. Jessie said that she’d let us have Molly.” She waited for Spence to say something or at least laugh. No one would take Molly from Jessie, even if the pony was a pain in the butt and needed more attention than six full-size horses. “That’s it, Gloomy Gus.” She tugged on his hand to get his attention. “I won’t allow you to be all down on yourself or what you can do or how you handle anything. It’s just ridiculous.” She pushed herself up a little in the bed and regretted that. Having a baby was not for sissies.

  “I’ll call the nurse,” Spence said, his finger hovering over the red button.

  “I’m fine, just a little sore.” He tried to stand, but she held his hand tight, twisting a little like she did to Muffin to keep that stubborn horse in line. “Don’t move. We have to talk. I’d wanted to wait, but...well, I think we need to iron this out.”