“It’s my baby too. I should be there.” Once he left town, possibly the state, for a new job, he wouldn’t be there for her. But he was here now. He could be with her to talk to her parents at least.
Her green gaze was steady and direct, even behind her glasses. “I’m not marrying you.”
Such an automatic, unapologetic refusal. He blamed that quick stab in his core on his burger. He should’ve had soup like Grace. “I heard you the first time. You don’t need to keep repeating it.” Besides, he wasn’t asking again.
Sarah Ashley strolled up to the booth, carrying the diner’s boxy cordless phone, an old-fashioned kind, like the diner’s milkshakes and jukebox. She handed the phone to Grace and grimaced at Ethan. “Grace isn’t answering her cell phone fast enough for Mom and Dad.”
Grace spoke quickly, ended the call and looked at Ethan. “There’s an emergency. I need to get back to the store.”
Ethan checked the time on his phone. They’d sat down in the booth less than forty-five minutes ago. His world had imploded in less than an hour, and he hadn’t quite found his balance. Heaven knew he hadn’t said anything right to Grace since her news. “Don’t you get a full hour for lunch?”
Sarah Ashley shook her head before handing the phone to Delia as the busy waitress passed by. “Grace prefers to work through lunch. Actually, Grace prefers work over everything else.”
Grace glared at her sister, but Sarah Ashley just lifted one shoulder as if goading her to argue.
“I’ll come with you.” Ethan dropped cash on the table and stood.
Grace glowered at him. “An escort isn’t necessary.”
He’d never known Grace to be dependent on anyone. She’d made it more than clear that she didn’t need him to raise their baby either. What with her financial and professional agendas already in place. She had everything figured out. Everything, except Ethan.
Tucking his wallet and his frustration in his pocket, he said, “I want to talk to your father about any available ranch hands in the area.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “I haven’t finished the budget for the ranch yet.”
Or their conversation. He motioned for both Sarah Ashley and Grace to walk ahead of him. “Staffing is getting rather desperate up at the Blackwell Ranch.”
“Whenever it’s desperate at Brewster’s, everyone knows to call Grace.” Sarah Ashley glanced at him over her shoulder; her smile lacked her usual sparkle. A tartness, not sweetness, laced her voice. “Grace likes to rescue everyone. All the time.”
“If people followed my instructions, I wouldn’t need to keep saving them.” Grace shoved open the doors to the café and started down the sidewalk toward Brewster’s.
“If you let people make changes, you might find their ideas have merit.” Sarah Ashley matched Grace’s sure stride even in her high-heeled boots.
“Or I might find the entire inventory database has crashed and taken down the point-of-sale system,” Grace countered.
Sarah Ashley shook her head, her long curls swinging across her shoulders. “Computers are so unreliable.”
“I find people are even more unreliable.” Grace stomped up the stairs to Brewster’s, never sparing a glimpse at Ethan.
Had she already decided he’d be an unreliable father? She’d only just announced she was pregnant with his child. His child. She’d had the past three months to prepare. He’d had thirty minutes. Ethan hurried after Grace and stopped her before she disappeared inside the store. “We need to talk more.”
“Fine, but not now.” She edged inside the entryway. “Mom needs me and I have a three o’clock with a potential client.”
“I’m your client.” And the father of your child. Wasn’t there a priority ranking or something?
“I can come up to the ranch tonight.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes as if that was all she needed to refresh herself. “We can look at the books then.”
But not discuss the baby. Had Sarah Ashley been right? Did Grace put work before everything else? She was coming up to the ranch, but not to do more accounting.
Didn’t anyone notice the dark circles under her eyes but him? She needed to rest. To eat. His child would arrive exhausted from his or her mother’s nonstop pace. “You’ll be there by six, or I’ll drive down here to get you myself.”
“My parents—”
“Six o’clock, Grace.”
She nodded before sprinting into the store at her mother’s shout.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ETHAN LET THE door to Brewster’s close and shook his head. He was having a baby with Grace. Grace Gardner. If the fates had showed him this part of his future in a crystal ball, he’d have consoled the trio and explained that everyone made a mistake at some point. His world had shifted off-kilter even more now that the frustration inside him was for Grace, not himself.
Everyone demanded too much from Grace. That irritated him. She was only one person after all. He didn’t want to curse at the inconvenience of becoming a father now. He wanted to shout at everyone inside the store to leave Grace alone.
He suddenly wanted to protect her.
He’d once gotten caught in a tailspin on the mountain bypass courtesy of black ice and had to steer into the turn to keep from slamming through the guardrails and into the trees. A simple overcorrection was all that had been needed. Now the only overcorrection he could come up with: ignore his inclination to protect Grace.
After all, Grace hadn’t asked for his help. Would most likely resent him if he tried. And he had no claim like that on her. Wanted no claim like that. Love and all those wild emotions required too much of himself. And later made him hurt too much.
His mind made up to let Grace defend herself, he wondered why his legs wobbled like he was still in that tailspin. Time to leave. Certainly, distance from Grace and hammering some loose fence up at the ranch would center him.
At the porch stairs, Pops’s gravelly voice stopped him.
“You’ll be hearing from my granddaughter later about your high-handedness.” Pops tipped back in his rocking chair and eyed Ethan from beneath the rim of his faded cowboy hat.
Frank Gardner came around the side of the building, stepped onto the porch and dropped onto one of the milk can stools. He wiped his forehead and looked between Ethan and Pops. “What did I miss?”
“Grace’s Ethan tried to order Gracie around.” Pops grinned.
He wasn’t Grace’s Ethan. He didn’t want to be hers. “We’re in a mess financially at the ranch,” Ethan admitted and walked closer to Pops’s chessboard. “We really need her help.”
And Ethan really needed to figure out what to tell Frank about the baby. When to tell Frank. Now hardly seemed appropriate when he couldn’t even figure out his own thoughts about being a father.
“Everybody needs Gracie,” Pops said. “That girl is indispensable.”
Pops made Grace sound like a reliable pocketknife. But she was way more than that. Pocketknives got tossed in glove boxes, toolboxes and junk drawers and were only discovered later by accident during a search for something else. Grace was more precious, deserving kindness and care.
Ethan picked up the black knight and moved it toward the center of the board.
Pops sat forward, set his hands on his knees. There was both censure and excitement in his tone. “That was an unexpected move.”
So was learning he was going to be a father. Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at the board, satisfied he could still make at least one good decision. “Can’t argue with it.”
Frank laughed. “But he wants to.”
To his delight, Ethan realized he could see into the store and watch Grace. She might have something to say about his so-called high-handedness, but he was starting to have plenty to say about her sprinting around the store like a blackbuck antelope. He decided right ther
e that the stubborn woman would rest that evening, even if he had to rope tie her to the chair in Big E’s office.
Brewster’s front door swung open and Randy Frye, Falcon Creek’s lumberjack of a postman, stepped onto the porch, several cookies staked on his open palm. He brushed cookie crumbs off his US Postal uniform shirt and grinned at Ethan. “Sorry, Ethan, you’ll have to go inside if you want one of Mrs. Gardner’s warm double chocolate chip cookies.”
Pops rubbed his hands together and accepted a cookie from Randy.
“Although I do have something for you, Ethan.” Randy rummaged through the mail bag hanging from his shoulder. “It’s a certified letter. If you sign now, it’ll save me a trip to the ranch later.”
Ethan signed for the letter and opened it. His gaze stuck on the words: Notice of Default in bold red on the top of the page. He dropped onto the milk can stool next to the chessboard and scanned the letter from Billings Bank and Trust.
“Big E must be having a grand adventure,” Randy said. “Never known him to leave the ranch for longer than a week or two.”
More like a grand escape. Payments on a credit line in Elias’s and Zoe’s names were three months behind. The bank granted them thirty days to correct the delinquent account or they’d collect the agreed upon collateral. Ethan thought Zoe’s renovations had been extravagant; he hadn’t expected quite how much. Had Big E left to avoid the cash crisis at the Blackwell Ranch? But his grandfather had never been a quitter. Never. Ethan folded the letter and stuffed it into his back pocket. One crisis at a time. “How old are your boys now, Randy?”
“Just turned twelve last month and almost as tall as me.” Randy scratched his thick beard, as if he couldn’t quite accept the changes in his world.
“Then they aren’t quite ready for ranch work yet.” Ethan picked up a pawn and smoothed the disappointment out of his voice. “Too bad. We could really use the extra hands.”
“Give them a few years to stop tripping over their own feet and they’re all yours.” Randy adjusted his mail bag. “I can’t be much help with ranch hands, Ethan. But the Pierces could sure use a second opinion on their pregnant mare.”
“I’m not licensed to practice in Falcon Creek,” Ethan said.
Randy blinked, slow and steady, seeming unmoved by Ethan’s curt tone. “The Pierce family have been my neighbors for more than two decades.”
As if that explained everything. And Ethan’s lack of a license wasn’t an issue.
“The Pierce family are real good folks.” Pops studied the chessboard.
As if that was all that mattered in Falcon Creek. As if Ethan didn’t fully understand the neighbor protocol in Falcon Creek. But Ethan had left home years ago and not looked back. He hadn’t returned to reconnect with Falcon Creek and its residents, apart from Sarah Ashley’s wedding. He’d promised his brother one month. The town had to understand that too.
“Time for me to finish my route.” Randy walked down the steps and called over his shoulder. “I’ll tell Mr. Pierce to call you, Ethan.”
Why didn’t anyone seem to care that he wasn’t licensed to practice in Montana? Ethan clenched his teeth together. The Pierce family could call. Didn’t mean he had to answer. He vowed not to accept another call from a Falcon Creek resident about their pets or livestock.
Right now, he’d stick to the safest and easiest discussion he could have with Frank Gardner. “Frank, do you have any other leads on ranch hands?”
Frank rubbed his chin. “Art Mason has a cousin.”
Pops grunted. “That boy couldn’t plow through an open field. What about Len Landry’s stepbrother?”
Frank shook his head. “Heard that boy spent too much time with his girlfriend in the loft at the Double T, rather than herding the cattle.”
Pops slapped his knee. “From Mary-Sue’s growing belly, I’d think the boy would be working any job he could get. Gotta have money to support a baby.”
“He doesn’t seem all that inclined to find a job.” Frank frowned.
Ethan ran his hands over his legs, pushing the dread out of his muscles. He lacked the money but not the inclination to work. He wanted to support his child. Yet he’d tumbled into a money pit and would need everything he had to crawl out. And the problem was: he wasn’t sure if he’d landed at the bottom yet.
A failed credit check and mounting debt kept blocking his entrance into established veterinary practices. He couldn’t accept that. Couldn’t give up. Surely, he could convince someone to let him into their practice. He had to succeed, for more than himself now. “I’m not sure how long we can keep the ranch running without help.”
Yet, putting the Blackwell Ranch on the fast track to sell required money they didn’t have and suitable ranch hands, which weren’t available. And now Billings Bank and Trust threatened to collect and auction off the livestock Big E had put up for collateral if they didn’t right their account in thirty days. He had to tell Grace, yet now wasn’t the right time. Ethan stretched his legs as if warming up his muscles to join some phantom game.
“There are more apples in this town than rotten cores.” Frank gripped Ethan’s shoulder like a football coach encouraging his star running back after a fumble. “I’ll put out some feelers for responsible kids who want to work. Do you have an age requirement?”
Ethan relaxed, appreciating the older men’s support. He only hoped he could keep it when the truth about Grace came out. “At this point, if they’re capable and want to learn, we’ll take them. Katie can train anyone.”
Pops rattled off several family names with high schoolers. The last name got cut off by the rumble of a large truck skidding to a halt in the gravel parking lot. A shout for Ethan Blackwell echoed over the idling engine.
Ethan rose and squinted at the red truck with deep tinted windows. The driver scrambled down and raced around the oversize truck, shouting Ethan’s name again.
“What’s gotten into Gordon Combs?” Pops stopped his rocking chair. Concern framed the downturn of his mouth and the slow shake of his head. “Never seen that kid move faster than a rock.”
Ethan jumped down the stairs. He hadn’t seen Gordon since they’d played their final football game senior year. “Gordy?”
“Luck is with me today. Can’t believe I saw you up there.” The relief in Gordy’s wide gaze faded. Terror made him miss the truck handle before he yanked open the back door. “You gotta save them, Ethan. Tell me you can save them.”
Ethan stepped aside, trying not to look at the furry dogs in the back seat. Trying not to think about their possible injuries. Trying to sink his impulse to help deep inside the money pit. His patients were supposed to be one thousand pounds and fifteen hands tall, not seventy pounds and barely over knee height.
Not to mention the fines he could face for practicing without a license. The veterinary board would consider his neighborly house calls earlier in the week much more than friendly advice over coffee. There was so much risk. “I’m not practicing as a...”
Gordy cut him off. “You graduated. Passed the tests. Mom calls you Dr. Blackwell now.”
“Dr. Terry is around the corner.” Ethan turned his baseball cap backward to look into his friend’s eyes. To convince Gordy and himself that he couldn’t get involved. He’d only just vowed not to help a Falcon Creek resident with a pet problem. The best he could offer Gordy was Dr. Terry one block away.
Norman Terry had been the local vet since before Ethan’s birth. Ethan had brought him a sick turtle he’d found on the side of the road in fourth grade. Dr. Terry had told him to stop stealing wild animals and return it to the creek to die in peace. Ethan didn’t want to be accused of poaching on Norman’s clients. Not to mention, Ethan wasn’t looking for patients in Falcon Creek.
“Terry is closed for extended lunches now.” Gordy grabbed Ethan’s shoulders and hung on as if Ethan was his last thread. “I’m still waiting on
a callback. You’re my boy, Ethan. I need this.”
So many reasons, valid reasons, to say no. To walk away. No one could blame him for protecting his career. Protecting his future. Gordy would understand. This wasn’t the kickball field with bases loaded. This was his professional life.
Gordy released Ethan and shifted, giving Ethan a direct view into the cab of the truck. Ethan cursed softly. This might be his life. But there were two other lives at stake. Two other lives in need. He’d been trained not to walk away. Trained to save.
He stepped around Gordy and assessed, not as a detached onlooker, not as Gordy’s longtime friend, but as the veterinarian eight years of schooling had taught him to be and a lifetime of rescuing animals had instilled in him.
An adult golden retriever dog and cream-colored puppy lay stretched out across a blanket. Puncture marks bled from the puppy’s swollen muzzle. More puncture marks on the adult’s paw and muzzle oozed. Too much swelling on both animals. Their breaths too rapid.
Ethan mentally listed the items he’d been adding to his medical bag for the animals at the ranch. He’d just added antivenom shots, having only limited antibiotics.
He leaned slightly into the cab, noticed the drool on the blanket covering the bench seat. He reached out, palm first. A deep growl proceeded the snap from the adult. Even in pain, the dog protected the young.
“None of the other puppies survived their birth. She won’t let me touch this one. Pit viper attacked the puppy, momma tried to help. Both got bit more than once.” Gordy paced, yanked on his red hair. “Ethan, I got three girls now. They can’t lose their dogs. My youngest, Rosie, she named...”
Gordy’s voice dropped away. Ethan held his breath. He had a niece named Rosie—his youngest brother Chance’s daughter. And Jon had twin girls. What if these were his nieces’ dogs? How could he break a little girl’s heart?
Frank stepped up to Gordon. “Come on, son, let Ethan treat the dogs.”
Gordy stepped away with Frank and Grace moved in beside Ethan. “What can I do?”
The Rancher's Rescue Page 8
