Home on the Ranch--The Colorado Cowboy's Triplets

by Laura Marie Altom

  Just thinking about the emptiness in their dark gazes left her chilled.

  She gave the baby an extra squeeze, kissing the crown of her head. As much as she loved children, she no longer yearned for motherhood. The risk of losing them—potentially losing herself—was far too great. “Let’s get you back with your sisters.”

  After gingerly placing the infant in the crib alongside her snoozing siblings, she covered them all with their fuzzy pink blankets, taking extra care in making sure their tiny toes were protected from the night’s chill.

  “You’re next,” she said to her still-sleeping grandfather, giving his shoulder a light shake. “Hey, Gramps. Let’s call it a night.”

  He grunted, slow to wake or even recognize his surroundings. “What?”

  “Come on...” She took his hands, planting her feet to help him from his chair. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “I need to pee.”

  “For now, let’s just get you out of your recliner and down the hall.”

  “I’m fine.” Finally on his feet, he grunted again. “All this coddling is gonna give me heartburn.”

  “Duly noted.” She kept a firm hold on his arm while he shuffled in his worn house shoes she’d bought him for Christmas ten years earlier. Time for a new pair.

  “Was I dreaming, or did you tell me that neighbor boy, Chase, died?”

  “He did...”

  “Damned shame. He was a good kid. The best I’ve seen around these parts in a good long while.”

  She nodded. The loss must have been unimaginably tough for Emily. She still barely had a grasp on caring for three newborns. But to now tackle the job solo?

  Impossible.

  Once Emily left the hospital, Camille would remind her that she had a lifelong friend just down the road who was ready to lend a hand whenever needed.

  As for her feelings for Emily’s brother?

  Camille released a long, slow exhale.

  It took thirty minutes to get her grandfather washed and changed into flannel pj’s, then tucked into bed, before convincing him to take his blood pressure medication. Of course, he complained during each step, arguing he was fine sleeping in his clothes, but she argued right back that she wasn’t fine with him rolling around in the dust and grime he’d picked up that day while working his mine.

  Her grandfather had worked the shafts on his mountain claim all her life. To her knowledge, he had yet to find a thing other than dirt, spiders and tons of worthless rocks, but the task kept him busy and the dream of one day hitting the motherlode kept him alive.

  “Good night, Gramps,” she finally said, with a kiss to his weathered cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

  He delivered his usual grunt.

  Before switching off his bedside lamp, she surveyed his mess of a room. One more thing to add to her growing to-do list. It wasn’t that his room was dirty, just cluttered to the point that her long-deceased grandmother’s beautiful antiques were no longer visible beneath piles of survey maps, mining magazines, mining equipment and even a collection of vintage gold pans.

  Wearing an indulgent grin, she darkened the room and closed the door on her grandfather’s snoring.

  Back in the living room, she eyed the portable crib and its three tiny occupants. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”

  Since they were sleeping, for the moment her only task was to watch them. Make sure they were safe from any number of things that could do them harm. Choking on toys. Suffocating under their blanket. Kidnappings...

  Okay—considering their remote location, that last fear was beyond irrational, but back in Miami, she’d seen it all. In one case she was on, a set of newborn twins had never been found. No doubt they’d been taken, then sold on the black market to some whack-job who had more money than sense.

  She collapsed onto her grandfather’s recliner, but instead of leaning back, she lurched forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Didn’t matter that she was tired. Protecting her precious charges was her top priority.

  No matter what, she wouldn’t let Jed and Emily down.

  Like you did so many other families?

  Her pulse hammered and her palms sweated.

  How many innocent lives had been lost on her watch? How many families had she destroyed by sharing grim news?

  It didn’t matter how often her supervisor told her she couldn’t take the cases personally.

  She had.

  Every. Single. One.

  These lost, stolen, abused or murdered children weren’t just nameless, faceless victims to her, but sons and daughters who had been ripped from families.

  Forcing herself to do the deep breathing the department shrink had advised, Camille momentarily felt better. But then her cell rang—shattering her nerves all to hell.

  She hadn’t heard that merry ringtone in what? Nearly ten years? Camille was surprised Jed still had her number.

  After a sharp exhale, she answered, “How’s Emily?”

  “Holding her own.”

  “Good.”

  “How are the babies?”

  “Sleepy.” Thank goodness. Just because she’d always wanted her own children didn’t mean she knew the first thing about caring for them.

  “They’re usually okay until around two a.m., then all hell breaks loose. Grab yourself some shut-eye until then.”

  “Will do. How long have you been with her? Here—on the mountain?”

  “A couple weeks. Since hearing about Chase.”

  “How’d you get away?” His insane work schedule had been but one of the myriad reasons their relationship had proved impossible.

  “Emergency leave. How about you? Your mom told my mom about your promotion. Why aren’t you back in Miami?”

  “Long story.” She wasn’t proud that she’d resigned. She was even less proud of being emotionally incapable of handling the job. Her shrink said burnout in that kind of intense work environment was common—certainly nothing to be ashamed of. But Camille still felt as if she’d let down not only her department, but the dozens—if not hundreds—of children still needing her help.

  “I’ve got time,” he said. “Only thing to do around here is pace.”

  “Let’s just say the job wasn’t what I thought it would be. When I heard Gramps needed help, this seemed like as good a place as any to regroup.”

  “True. There’s no place on earth like our mountain.” Emily and Chase’s home had once belonged to Jed’s grandparents. They’d left it to Jed’s parents, who had gifted it to the once happy couple. Camille had visited her grandparents every school holiday. She and Emily had been best friends. When the girls discovered boys, they’d run with a few teen bull riders from town, but one summer Camille had broken her leg riding and Jed had been grounded for nearly starting the barn on fire with bottle rockets. His punishment had been weeks of hard labor. When his parents had run out of chores for him to do, they’d sent him to Ollie and her grandmother, Mable. A misty smile tugged the corners of Camille’s lips when her mind’s eye caught on the memory of teen Jed mowing and mucking stalls and weed-eating, all while wearing cowboy boots, Wranglers, his favorite beaten brown leather cowboy hat and nothing on his chest save for sweat coating tanned muscle.

  “You still there?”

  “Yeah.” Camille gave herself a mental kick. Thank goodness her trip down memory lane ended before recalling their first kiss. Gifting each other their virginity. Whispering “I love you” beneath the stars. “Sorry. My mind blanked for a sec.”

  “No worries. I should let you sleep. I just wanted to check in and thank you again.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  “You’re a good person, Cam—always have been. Guess all this mess with Chase, and now my sister, has me feeling sentimental, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. You know, about how things went down between us. I neve
r meant for it to turn out that way.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Me, neither.”

  “Right. Anyway, with luck, see you in the morning with Emily in tow.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Camille disconnected the call and wasn’t sure what to think. The last thing she’d expected when returning to Marigold to care for her grandfather had been running into Jed. Or learning that Chase had died. Poor Emily.

  At least when Camille lost Jed it had been a choice.

  Chapter 2

  While ER doctors worked on his sister, Jed paced Aspen Valley Hospital’s waiting room. The place looked more like a ski resort than a hospital, which he supposed many patients and families found comforting.

  At the moment, he doubted anything would make him feel better aside from learning his sister would be okay.

  Although that wasn’t entirely true. For the brief time he’d spoken with Camille, the tightness in his chest had lessened. The room’s dim light seemed brighter. A million years ago, she’d been not just his best friend and lover, but his everything.

  Truth be told, maybe he’d never fully gotten over her. Maybe Alyssa had been somewhat justified in cheating on him if he admitted that his heart had never fully been with her. Part of him would always remain with Camille—not that it mattered.

  Though it would be nice catching up with her, what they’d shared was beyond ancient history. Their relationship wasn’t a dust-covered box he’d shoved to the back of his mental attic, but something he’d long ago abandoned at the side of the curb for weekly trash removal. Their breakup had hurt so badly that he’d needed the memory gone.

  The alternative, of ever revisiting that pain, seemed too cruel.

  Three cups of tar-like black coffee later, the sun was just rising when a scrub-wearing doctor emerged from behind pass-code-locked doors. He hung his head, raking his hands through longish salt-and-pepper hair.

  Jed ditched his latest coffee in a trash can, then strode to meet the man who held Emily’s life in his hands.

  “How is she?” Jed asked. “When can I take her home?”

  The doctor said nothing, seeming to struggle with his words.

  “I get it if she needs to stay longer. She’s been through a lot. I mean, the stress alone from the sudden loss of a spouse would do most people in. But she’s strong.”

  “Mr. Monroe...”

  “I probably need to grab her a change of clothes and toiletries. A neighbor’s watching my nieces, so I’ll—”

  “Mr. Monroe, I don’t even begin to know how to say this, but your sister...” His voice cracked. Exhaustion weighted his shoulders and his eyes were red-rimmed from having pulled an all-nighter.

  Stood to reason the guy was tired.

  Jed was, too.

  “Your sister died.”

  No. The doctor’s words didn’t compute.

  “We pumped her stomach, but the damage was already done. Approximately thirty minutes ago, she went into cardiac arrest. Every effort was made to save her, but sometimes in suicide victims, there’s no will to live.”

  “She didn’t commit suicide. The overdose was accidental. I told you that when she was admitted.”

  “Whatever the case, on behalf of the entire ER team, we’re sorry for your loss. The hospital chaplain has been called and will help with arrangements.”

  “Arrangements?” Jed clenched his fists. Things like calling a funeral home? Explaining to his mom that she’d lost not only her son-in-law, but her only daughter? Sure, he’d get right on all that.

  He needed to punch a wall. The doctor’s placid face.

  This wasn’t happening.

  There was no effing way this was happening.

  But it was.

  “I—I need to see her,” Jed said.

  “Of course. I’ll have nurses clean her up.”

  “No—I need to see her now. As she is—was. Don’t even try keeping me away...”

  “Sir!” The doctor grasped Jed’s shoulders. “I understand you’re hurting, but I promise you don’t want your final memory of your sister to be unpleasant. Take a seat. I’ll have a nurse get you once Emily is in a private room.”

  * * *

  Camille woke in her grandfather’s recliner, at first unsure where she was. Then the night came rushing back.

  Emily having been taken to the hospital.

  Jed dropping off the babies.

  That unbearably sweet call that had dredged up memories best left alone.

  Her throat ached from holding back tears, but with three babies to care for, she didn’t have the luxury of breaking down.

  She raised her gaze to find the crib empty.

  Pulse instantly racing, she rose, convinced that the triplets had not only been taken, but worse. Then she felt like an idiot upon hearing her grandfather singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” in the kitchen.

  After a quick trip to her room to change into a fresh T-shirt, she ducked into the hall bathroom for her morning routine. Splashing cold water on her face made her feel better, but still tired.

  “About time,” her grandfather said when she entered the kitchen. He’d shoved the round oak table into a corner, making room for a quilt that the babies lounged on while staring at themselves in the shiny sides of stainless-steel pots and pans. “When you were a little past this age, your favorite thing in the world was playing with kitchen gear. Your grandmother had special cabinets for you that the second she’d set you on the floor, you’d make a beeline for.” He smiled and shook his head. “Cute as a button, you were. What happened?”

  He busted out laughing.

  She landed a mock punch to his shoulder. “Why am I even here?”

  “Because you’re the person I can always rely on to take the best care of me.”

  “You’re perfectly capable of caring for yourself.”

  “True.” He shrugged. “But it’s a heckuva lot more fun with you around. Now, I’d say we’ve got maybe ten or twenty minutes before all hell breaks loose with these three cabbage patch kiddos. Do you have any idea how to make their formula?”

  “No, but at that fancy place you sent me called college, I learned to read real good.” She winked. “Just throwing this out there, but maybe we should read the packaging directions?”

  He laughed again.

  She sent silent thanks to the heavens that she had him in her life. He’d been her one constant, the person she could go to with any problem and he innately knew how to fix it—except for her breakup with Jed. He’d always said they’d one day be together.

  Boy, had he been wrong.

  “When are you and Jed planning on giving me great-grandbabies?” Gramps asked, midway through the bottle prep process.

  “First, there’s no such thing as me and Jed. Second, since what I’ve seen on my job, you know how I feel about bringing more kids into this ugly world.”

  “My world isn’t ugly. Up here, the most serious crime wave I recall is a string of cattle rustlings back in 1986.”

  “Clearly, you don’t read the paper. Have you seen the crime reports in Glenwood Springs or Denver—even Aspen?”

  “Nope. Never much saw the need to go borrowing trouble when I don’t have any.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to be well-informed of your surroundings.”

  “Pfft.” He waved off her concerns. “Ask me, all you’re doing is looking for trouble where there isn’t any. According to your mom, besides babysitting me, you came out here to relax. Don’t you think it’s high time you got started?”

  “Thanks, Judge. I’ll take the matter under advisement.”

  Working side by side, they made enough formula to fill three bottles, then she parked her grandfather in his recliner to feed a baby in the crook of each arm. He’d probably cramp from holding their bottles, but he deserved it after all th
e grief he’d given her about Jed and her justified views on crime.

  She took the third baby—she’d given up on keeping their names straight—to the rocker where her grandmother had reportedly nursed her mom when she’d been a newborn. Though Camille would never admit it to her grandfather, the connection to her past, to the repressed woman buried inside who would like nothing more than to believe the fairy tale of safe, happy families truly existing, did soothe her aching heart.

  Sadly, her brain knew better than to believe everything would be okay.

  Case in point, this tragedy with Emily and Chase. Feel-good endings were Hollywood or Hallmark creations. They rarely—if ever—played out in real life. Jed’s poor sister was now stuck raising three babies alone, forever dreaming of how things might have been had her husband survived.

  Tragic.

  Beyond horrible.

  Which was why Camille planned to forever protect her heart. If she never let anyone in, she stood a far less chance of getting hurt.

  * * *

  Jed paused in the bustling hospital hall before entering the room where he’d see his dead sister. Dead. The word didn’t seem real. How was this happening?

  One minute he’d been rambling to her about making popcorn, and now...

  His throat clogged with unshed emotion. His eyes stung.

  The thought occurred to him that maybe he shouldn’t do this alone? But while he had friends still in the area, his SEAL brothers were in Coronado.

  His mom was unreachable...

  Camille.

  The knot at the back of his throat tightened.

  As much as he’d now appreciate her support, he no longer deserved it. Even if he did, it wasn’t as if they were friends. The only reason they’d even spoken was because of the extreme emergency. Once this initial crisis passed, his mom would be with the triplets, and he’d return to his base. And Camille? Well, he wasn’t sure what she’d do. The only thing he was sure of was that she wouldn’t want anything more to do with him.