The TP was probably Popsicle’s doing. The kitten loved tearing it up. The red liquid appeared to be spilled juice. Likely a Leo accident. But she didn’t have a clue who or what was responsible for the green and wasn’t even sure what it was.
She felt her stomach turn a little when she spotted a frog leg and what was left of the lily pad that had once been part of Rosy’s taxidermic masterpiece. Crap on a Christmas cracker. The motion mechanism was still working, sort of, because the bottom part of the bullfrog was jigging his headless butt back and forth.
The social worker shouldn’t see something like this. It probably wouldn’t cause Kace to lose custody on the spot, but it certainly wouldn’t leave a good impression, either.
That sent some panic through her that she tried to tamp down. Kace was depending on her to make this right, and the making right would have to happen without him since he was in the ER. Cleo hadn’t gotten the whole story, but according to Kace’s quick phone call, he needed stitches because of a poodle and some mascara. At least Cleo thought he’d said mascara, but she’d probably misunderstood him.
Other than making sure that Kace was okay—which he claimed he was—the only other thing Cleo had gotten from Kace’s call was that Judd had gotten tied up with an incident at the nursing home. No details on that one. But Kace had asked her to make sure the house and the boys were as cleaned up as they could be, that he’d be there as soon as he could make it.
Cleo hadn’t bothered trying to get in touch with anyone else on the spreadsheet schedule. Even if the social worker had warned her about living at the house, the boys were hers, and that meant this problem was, too. A problem Cleo would have to handle delicately since she’d need to let Mrs. Gateman know that she was merely filling in for Kace. Of course, if Kace showed up in time, it’d be a moot point. The house and boys would be cleaned and ready, and Cleo could step back and let him do what he’d agreed to do on paper.
Kace probably hadn’t thought that “paper agreement” would eat up this much of his time.
That’s why Cleo had to do whatever she could do. After getting Kace’s call, Cleo had immediately gotten Tiny to cover for her at the bar, had jumped in her car and had driven back to Coldwater.
However, Cleo hadn’t expected to face this.
Realizing that the TP and frog massacre weren’t the only issues, Cleo lifted her head and sniffed, but her sniffing didn’t have to be too deep for her to detect something she hadn’t wanted to smell. Burned chocolate with the underlying aroma of puppy pee.
The pee wasn’t a surprise. Rosy and Buck had insisted that the puppy stay inside and had even installed a doggie door for him. The little guy had gotten the hang of the door but he’d had more accidents than hits. No one seemed to mind, especially Beckham, who’d taken to the puppy just as Cleo had hoped. She just wished Mango had taken to potty training today of all days.
She checked the time. Almost four. The traffic coming out of San Antonio had been heavy due to road construction so it’d taken her longer than expected to get back from the bar. Still, she should have time to clean up and get ready for Mrs. Gateman’s visit in an hour.
Except it wasn’t just a visit.
It was an inspection. Mrs. Gateman was going to come in here and likely nitpick, and anything she saw that she didn’t like would go in her dreaded report. That included the social worker still believing that Cleo lived there.
Picking up some of the toilet paper along the way, Cleo made her way to the kitchen, expecting to find Rosy, Lissy and the boys. Maybe Buck. But it was empty, and she soon saw the source of the bad smell. There were either hockey pucks or severely burned cookies on a baking sheet. Another frog leg sat ominously in front of the still-warm oven.
Good God, what had gone on here?
Her first thought was there’d been some kind of medical emergency, and everyone had had to rush to the hospital. Maybe because of the cancer treatments Buck had recently completed. Or perhaps one of the boys had gotten hurt, which would have caused a hospital rush, too.
That sent her running upstairs. No one. And her heart was all the way to her kneecaps when she finally heard something. Leo yelling. That caused her to sprint back downstairs. She hurdled over the debris and raced out the back door, bracing herself to see blood or something.
And what Cleo saw was a woman.
A large-breasted woman in a pink leather jumpsuit. Her red hair pointed up like a traffic cone. She wasn’t alone. She was sitting in a chair beneath the shade tree sipping what appeared to be lemonade. Rosy was seated next to her.
Cleo glanced around, and the relief flooded through her when she soon spotted Mango chasing Leo and Popsicle by the barn. Buck, Beckham and Isaac were at the corral fence, and they were watching Nico ride a horse and put it through some fancy steps and moves. So, no medical emergency. No trips to the hospital. However, the boys did look a little on the grimy side, which meant they could all do with baths.
Other than the woman, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to explain the mess in the house.
The woman got to her feet when Cleo approached, and she spoke before Cleo could say anything. “Why did the golfer buy a single doughnut?” she immediately asked. “Because he wanted a hole in one.” She hooted with laughter and slapped herself on her thigh.
“Cleo,” Rosy said, standing as well. “You’re home.” Her “discussing the weather” tone made it seem as if there was nothing to be the least bit concerned about. Clearly, Rosy hadn’t noticed the semipanicked way Cleo had come rushing into the yard. “This is Mercy Marlow...a friend of Judd’s.”
Cleo tamped down the adrenaline that was still zinging through her and stared at the woman. Mercy wasn’t just a friend. This was Judd’s sponsor.
“Good to meet ya,” Mercy greeted. “Judd said you wanted to invite me over this weekend, but my schedule’s tight so I decided to drop by.”
Normally, Cleo would have been pleased about that, especially since Judd had mentioned that the woman was going through a tough time, but this wasn’t the best day for a visit.
“It’s great to meet you, too,” Cleo said, shaking Mercy’s hand, and then she practically snapped toward Rosy. “Mrs. Gateman will be here in about forty-five minutes or so.”
Rosy was smiling before Cleo reminded her of that, and she continued to smile afterward. “Yes. Everything is ready for her. Well, except for the cookies. Mercy and I got to talking, and I burned the darn things, but I’ll clean up before she gets here. Lissy was going to do it, but then her mom called and asked her to pick up some meds.”
So, Rosy didn’t know about the other mess, and Cleo didn’t get to tell her because Mercy continued where Rosy had left off.
“Rosy and I hit it off,” Mercy explained. “So much to talk about, what with you and Judd.”
Cleo had already opened her mouth but closed it a moment to figure out how to respond to that. She decided not to even address it.
“Uh, there’s a problem with the frog family.” Cleo added another “uh,” then added, “It’s been torn to bits.”
Now Rosy finally quit smiling. “Oh, dear,” she said after a long pause and started for the house.
“Please excuse us,” Cleo said to Mercy, and because she didn’t know how long it would take to deal with the mess, she called out to the boys. “Beckham, Isaac and Leo, make sure you’re cleaned up for Mrs. Gateman’s visit.”
That got expected responses, mainly grumbles and complaints, because they obviously didn’t want to end their fun time with Nico.
“Mango must have gotten in when we weren’t looking,” Rosy mumbled as she hurried to the house. “But I’m sure it’s no big deal. I’ll be able to fix it...” Her words trailed off after she opened the kitchen door and looked inside. Then, there was a string of “oh, dears.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cleo said, knowing it wouldn’t help. Rosy
had likely put hours of work into the bizarre project. Now, it made even a more bizarre mess that would probably make Rosy sad.
Cleo grabbed several plastic grocery bags, some paper towels and cleaner. “I’ll collect the frog parts for you,” she told Rosy. “And as soon as the social worker leaves, I’ll help you put it back together.” Of course, that might take a couple of years, but Cleo kept that to herself.
Since the juice and a pee puddle were near a couple of frog parts, Cleo tackled all of those at once. She glanced up when she heard an odd sound and realized it was coming from Mercy. The woman’s jumpsuit gave a slippery squeak whenever she bent down to pick up the debris. Later, she would owe Mercy a huge thanks.
The boys came running in with Nico and Mango right behind them. Talking all at once, they headed up the stairs, where Cleo hoped they’d clean up to make themselves presentable. She didn’t want to beat them over the heads with how important this visit was. No. They were already feeling the pressure.
Once they had collected the frog parts, Cleo and Mercy followed Rosy into the kitchen, where they dumped the pieces on the kitchen table. Cleo checked her watch. Still a half hour. Plenty of time—
Someone knocked on the front door, cutting off Cleo’s assurance of the “plenty” thought. She considered asking Rosy to answer the door while she hurried to Judd’s to freshen up, but Rosy was already caught up in the frog repair. Sighing, Cleo went to the door and opened it. Not Mrs. Gateman.
Audrey.
Cleo felt a moment of relief, followed by anything but relief when Audrey blurted out, “Can we talk?”
“It’s not a good time. The social worker is due soon.”
Audrey nodded. “I won’t keep you.” She moved as if to step in, but she stopped when her attention landed on Mercy and Rosy. “I only need a minute,” Audrey added, and she motioned for Cleo to come out on the porch with her.
Great. Cleo debated her options and decided it would be better and maybe faster to give Audrey that “minute.” It might take longer than that just to put off the woman, and it was best to go ahead and get this cleared up.
“Is this about the boys?” Cleo asked as she closed the front door behind her. “Or Judd?”
Audrey blinked as if surprised that Cleo had been so direct. “Both. I’ve been worried about Judd, about the stress he’s under because of the boys.”
“Have you talked to Judd about that?” Cleo winced when she heard her “mean girl” tone. That wasn’t like her, especially since Audrey almost certainly had Judd’s best interest at heart.
“I’ve tried to talk to him,” Audrey answered, “but it’s as if he’s shut down.”
Cleo hadn’t seen any signs of that. Just the opposite, and she remembered the photo Judd had taken with the puppy and the boys. And the way he’d looked earlier that week, when they’d had morning sex.
That was an especially nice memory.
But Cleo also remembered something else. Maybe Audrey was the safe choice for Judd. Safe, and someone who could help make sure Judd didn’t hit a stress level so high that he turned back to drinking. It was something she had to consider. But not now.
Since the minutes were ticking away, Cleo decided it was time to wrap up this conversation. “Are you asking me to try to steer Judd toward you?” Cleo asked, and she prepared herself to hear some hemming, possibly some hawing from Audrey.
But there wasn’t any. “No.” Audrey drew in a long breath. “I’m here to give you an option if you end up staying here with the boys.”
That got Cleo’s attention despite the fact that she saw Mrs. Gateman’s car turn into the driveway. “What option?”
“The Gray Mare.” Again, no hesitation on Audrey’s part. “My uncle is looking for someone to buy half the saloon, and if you’re interested, I could loan you the money.”
Cleo stared at her, shook her head. “Why would you do something like that?”
“For Judd. I’m in love with him,” Audrey admitted. “I’m sure that won’t come as a surprise to you.” Now she paused. “But what might surprise you is that if Judd isn’t already in love with you, he soon will be. I’ll do this for you because even if he’ll never love me, I want to make sure he’s happy.”
Cleo blurted out a garbled sound and felt her mouth fall open. Not exactly a flattering expression as Mrs. Gateman approached the porch. The social worker spared Cleo a glance before her attention settled on Audrey.
“Dr. Holcomb,” Mrs. Gateman greeted. “It’s good to see you again.”
Cleo hadn’t known the women had met, but maybe Audrey had delivered her medical report in person.
“Is everything okay?” the social worker asked.
“Yes,” Audrey quickly answered. “I was just chatting with Cleo, but I need to be going. You’ll let me know about the business we discussed?” Audrey added and strolled away.
“I got Sheriff Laramie’s message to say that he’d be late,” Mrs. Gateman said as they watched Audrey leave.
Cleo nodded and considered pointing out that there was plenty of babysitting help for situations just like this, but because Cleo was supposed to be part of that “help,” she just gathered her breath and opened the front door. She also added a silent prayer for a miracle.
And she got one.
The boys were all seated on the sofa. Clean, and the clean applied to them as well as the rest of the room. No trace of clutter, TP or bad smells other than a faint whiff of the burned cookies.
As if he was actually capable of being still, Mango had his head resting on his paws and was lying at Beckham’s feet. Popsicle was sitting obediently in Leo’s arms. With placid expressions all around, Cleo thought they looked drugged. Or threatened into being on their best behavior during this visit. Judging from the way Beckham was eyeing his brothers, the threat had come from him.
Nico was across from them, lounging in a chair. He tipped his Stetson in greeting at the social worker and flashed her one of those smiles that had charmed more women than Nico could probably count. And he wasn’t the only one smiling. Despite Rosy having a handful of frog parts, she was, too. Mercy didn’t exactly fit into the serene family scene, but she also looked happy.
“I sorry for punching you, Mrs. Ga-man,” Leo said after Isaac gave him a nudge with his elbow.
“He got a time-out in his room and had to use all of his ‘get out of jail free’ cards to make up for it,” Rosy added.
“The cards are a way of giving the boys a clean slate,” Cleo explained. “And they have to do extra chores or get good grades to get the cards.”
“He won’t do it again,” Beckham insisted, and while he wasn’t smiling, he looked one or two notches up from his usual surly self.
Mrs. Gateman nodded and seemed pleased about that, and the woman’s positive reaction was Cleo’s cue to leave.
“I’ll just be next door while you visit with the boys,” Cleo said to her.
However, Mrs. Gateman stopped Cleo before she could leave, and she motioned for Cleo to follow her back to the porch. The woman didn’t say anything until they were outside and the door was closed. Apparently, today was the day for porch chats.
“Look, I don’t personally have anything against you, Miss Delaney. I can see you love the boys, and I can also see that Sheriff Laramie and his family care for them, as well.”
“But?” Cleo prompted when she didn’t continue.
The woman gave a confirming nod that there was indeed a “but.” “You know there are things that count against this placement. Mr. McCall’s recent fight with cancer. His and his wife’s age.” She motioned toward the living room. “The flux of caregivers for the boys.”
“Good caregivers,” Cleo reminded her. “All of Kace’s siblings have stepped in to help. Especially Judd. He’s really been a big help with Beckham, but all the boys seem to connect with him.”
�
�So I’ve heard. When I last talked to the children, each of them mentioned Judd, and it was all positive.”
Cleo held back her huff. However, there was another “but” in Mrs. Gateman’s tone.
“Still, the ideal would be for the boys to be part of a stable, two-parent household,” the woman explained. “One that could lead to a permanent placement.”
“I can’t give them ideal,” Cleo admitted. “No one can. They’ve lost their mother and have been uprooted. But I can give them love. So can Kace, Judd and his family.”
“I don’t doubt that, but they can possibly have love and that stable two-parent foster family. I’m working on getting them just that.”
Everything inside Cleo went still, and since she didn’t trust her voice, she just waited for Mrs. Gateman to continue.
“It’s too soon to give details,” the social worker went on, “but I think you should prepare yourself in case it all works out. It’s possible I can have the boys in a new foster home by the end of the month.”
* * *
HELL. HELL. HELL.
And if Judd had thought saying it more times would have helped, he would have kept on mentally repeating it. He’d had his share of bad days, but this was one coupled with god-awful timing, what with his being late, the social worker’s visit and with Kace getting injured. Now he was about to add another heaping pile of crap onto that bad timing.
A longhorn was blocking the road. Yes, the very road that Judd needed to get to the ranch. The bull was holding up traffic again—something it did on a regular basis whenever it broke fence. Today, it’d also dropped a big pile of shit, so big that Judd wondered if there were intestinal issues involved.
There were at least a half-dozen folks out of their vehicles, all fanning their hands in front of their faces to disperse the stench from the fresh crap. Even the longhorn had moved a distance away from it, but it hadn’t moseyed nearly far enough to the side to allow traffic to get by.
There were hoots, hollers and frustrated oaths from the onlookers, who were trying their best to shoo the bull along by flapping various things, from handkerchiefs to a bag of microwave popcorn. But one of those folks was doing the flapping and hooting while wearing only a raincoat, tighty-whities and black socks under a pair of flip-flops.
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