The Rancher's Best Gift

by Stella Bagwell

  “All right,” Camille reluctantly agreed. “I can’t afford to get sick and miss work. And I sure don’t want to spread a stomach virus through the diner.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Gideon said with a vigorous nod.

  Peggy walked into the kitchen just as Camille was pulling off her apron.

  “Talking about what?” Peggy asked, then cast a concerned look at Camille’s pale face. “Honey, you look awful. Are you going home for the rest of the day?”

  “She’s going to the doctor,” Gideon answered for Camille. “And high time, too.”

  Peggy didn’t waste any time fetching Camille’s coat and handbag from the little office off the kitchen.

  As she helped her on with the coat, she said, “If the wait at the clinic turns out to be long, don’t worry about the diner. Gideon and I will close up. I’ll let him take the cash home.”

  Camille shook her head. “I’m coming straight back here no matter how late it is. I have to put in some food orders for next week’s menu.”

  * * *

  The wait at the clinic wasn’t quite as long as Camille was anticipating. An hour and a half after she entered the medical building, she walked out in a mental fog.

  She wasn’t coming down with the flu or anything close to a virus. The family practitioner had pronounced her six weeks pregnant! She was going to have Matthew’s baby!

  With an appointment card to her regular gynecologist stuffed in her purse and a prescription for nausea, she climbed into the car and stuck the key into the ignition. But that was as far as she got.

  For long moments, Camille was too stunned to do much more than stare blindly out the windshield at the people coming and going through the front entrance of the medical building. Never in her wildest dreams had she anticipated something like this. She’d been taking the Pill, yet here she was on her way to being a single mother!

  It happens occasionally, the doctor had explained to her. But how was she going to explain that to Matthew? What was he going to think? That she’d deliberately misled him about the birth control?

  No. She felt sure he knew her better than to think she’d been lying about something so important to both their lives. But she was also fairly certain that he had no plans to become a daddy. Not to Camille’s child, or any other woman’s child.

  On the drive back to Dragoon, Camille tried to collect herself. But the minute she walked into the diner and looked at Gideon’s and Peggy’s concerned faces, she burst into tears.

  Rushing to her side, Peggy clutched her arm. “Oh honey, what in the world?”

  Gideon put down his dish towel and in fatherly fashion led Camille over to the step chair sitting at the end of the work counter.

  After gently removing her coat and handing it and her handbag to Peggy, he urged Camille into the chair.

  “Now, what are all these tears about?” he asked in a firm but caring voice. “Do you have something worse than the flu?”

  Camille looked at Peggy’s worried face, then up to Gideon’s. “I’m not sick. The doctor says I’m as healthy as a horse.”

  Peggy cursed. “What kind of idiot did you see? I’m about as far away from being a doctor as you can get, but even I can see you’re sick as a dog! You can’t hold a thing on your stomach!”

  Camille drew in a long breath, then blew it out. “That’s because I’m pregnant.”

  Peggy and Gideon exchanged stunned glances.

  “A baby?” Peggy asked in an awed voice. “Matthew’s baby?”

  Camille scowled at her. “Who else?”

  Peggy spluttered. “Uh—sorry—I—didn’t mean it like that! It’s—well, I realize you’d gotten close to Matthew—I just didn’t know you’d gotten that close.”

  Camille groaned and then another fresh spurt of tears streamed from her eyes.

  Gideon shot Peggy an annoyed glare. “Peg, would it kill you to use a little more tact sometimes?”

  The waitress rolled her eyes at him. “Tact isn’t going to change the fact that Camille is going to have a baby!”

  “She’s right, Gideon,” Camille said dully. “I don’t expect to be coddled. And I sure don’t want you two to have to tiptoe around the obvious. I had an affair with Matthew and because of it we’re going to be parents. Or should I say, I’m going to be a parent.”

  Peggy and Gideon exchanged more strained glances before Gideon placed a hand on her shoulder. “Why do you say it like that, Camille? Don’t you think your young man will want to be a father to the child?”

  Would he? Yes. He’d been too hurt by his own father to ever let a child of his feel unloved and unwanted. Yet she couldn’t see him having anything more than a long-distance relationship with his son or daughter.

  “He’ll be a father,” Camille admitted. “Just not on a daily basis.”

  “Does that mean you’re not going back to Three Rivers?” Peggy wanted to know.

  Frowning, Camille shook her head. “The thought never entered my mind. My home is on Red Bluff. This diner is mine now. I’m not leaving. I’ll be raising my child here.”

  Gideon didn’t look a bit relieved. “But you are going to tell the man about the baby, aren’t you? It wouldn’t be right to keep it from him.”

  Camille dabbed a tissue to her eyes. “Yes, I’ll be telling him. I just don’t know how or when.”

  Peggy’s pained expression suddenly transformed into a smile. “What are we all looking so glum about? You’ve wanted a baby of your own for a long time. Now you’re going to have one! This should be a celebration!”

  Gideon nodded in agreement. “Peggy has the right idea now. This is a joyous occasion. We’ve already locked the front door for closing time. Let’s have a toast with a beer.”

  “Gideon, what are you thinking? Camille can’t have beer!” Peggy scolded him.

  Recognizing his mistake, he snapped his fingers. “Oh shoot, that’s right. Okay, let’s have milkshakes. I’ll make them.”

  Gideon left to go after the ice cream and Camille gave Peggy a half-hearted smile. “In spite of these tears, Peggy, I’m really happy about the baby. I already love it—more than anything.”

  “Well, sure you do, honey. And you’re going to be the best of mothers.” She gave Camille’s shoulders a hug, then stepped back and eyed her curiously. “So, what do you think your family is going to say? Especially your mother?”

  Camille shook her head. “I honestly can’t say. Any other time Mom would be crying and laughing and hugging me with joy. But now—I’m not so sure. She’s been so different this past year. And then there’s the fact that she’s very close to Matthew. She considers him her fifth son. I don’t know what to expect from her or any of the family. I do know that I can’t breathe a word of this to my mother or my siblings. Not until I talk with Matthew.”

  “And when do you plan on doing that? Tonight?”

  Camille gasped. “Not hardly! I’m not yet ready to deal with him.”

  “You think putting it off is going to make it easier?” Peggy asked.

  “No. But it will give me time to plan what I’m going to say to him.” Like how she didn’t expect anything from him. Like how she understood their time together was nothing but sex to him and therefore he had no emotional investment in her.

  The thought put a hard lump of pain in her throat, but she did her best to swallow it away.

  “You might just be surprised by Matthew’s reaction to the baby,” Peggy gently suggested. “He might be thrilled.”

  Camille’s short laugh was a cynical sound. “Oh, Peggy, sometimes I think you should have been a stand-up comedian.”

  * * *

  A week later the weather turned unusually cold for Yavapai County. Matthew and the men had been extra busy keeping a closer eye on the cattle and making sure none of the pumps at the watering tanks had frozen.

 
The Three Rivers Ranch house was decked out with Christmas decorations, and the festive season had carried over into the horse barn, where each stall was adorned with evergreen wreaths and bright red bows. Colorful lights blazed in the front yard and also decorated the patio in the back.

  Christmas was always a joyful season at the ranch, and this year the Hollisters had been especially blessed with all the new little family members. Yet Matthew didn’t have to wonder if one certain Hollister would be here for the holiday. He already knew that Camille would be at Red Bluff.

  She had the diner to run. And even if she didn’t, he could hardly imagine her wanting to drive up here to Three Rivers and be faced with her siblings and their families.

  Inside the huge horse barn, Matthew and TooTall were unsaddling the horses they’d ridden today when Matthew’s phone dinged with a message.

  He tossed the loosened breast collar over the seat of the saddle and pulled the phone from his jacket pocket.

  The message was from Blake: Come by the office before you leave.

  Across from him, TooTall asked, “You going to eat with us at the bunkhouse before you go home?”

  Normally Matthew made a point of eating with the crew of men at least three or four times a week. The shared time gave him a chance to hear their ideas or grievances and let them see that he considered their feelings important. But tonight he wasn’t in the mood for food or talk.

  “I’m not really hungry, TooTall. And anyway, I’ve got to go by the office and see Blake.”

  The cowboy frowned. “You’re getting as thin as a snake, Matthew. You need to eat.”

  He tried to eat, Matthew thought. But every time he sat down at the dinner table, he started thinking about all the meals Camille had prepared for him, and his throat would close up to the point that swallowing the smallest bite of anything was painful.

  “I’ll get something to eat when I get home,” he told TooTall. “You don’t need to be worried about me.”

  TooTall pulled the bridle from his horse, then tossed it over his shoulder before he turned and looked at Matthew. “Maybe no one else around here knows you’re hurting. But I do.”

  The suggestive remark was the first one that TooTall had made to him since they’d come home from Red Bluff, and it caught Matthew by complete surprise.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered. “And I don’t want to know.”

  “You’re not happy.”

  For the past few weeks since he and the men had returned to Three Rivers, Matthew had been careful to behave as though nothing had changed with him. He’d been determined not to let anyone suspect that he was dying inside. But TooTall was a different matter. It was like the man could see right through a person.

  Jerking loose the leather cinch strap, Matthew mindlessly wrapped it through the keeper on the saddle. “What would you know about it?”

  “I know you don’t belong here anymore,” TooTall told him. “You know it, too. That’s why you’re unhappy.”

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  He scowled at the cowboy. “Do you know how mad you make me when you start this nonsense?”

  TooTall shook his head. “Not mad at me. At yourself.”

  Matthew wasn’t going to argue with the man. For one thing, he didn’t have the energy. Nor did he have the heart for it.

  “I suppose you’ve been having more of those visions,” Matthew grumbled.

  “No. They only come to me once in a while. Like when my mother died.”

  TooTall turned back to his horse and Matthew felt even worse than he had before. Like him, TooTall had endured a tough childhood, and both men had lost their mothers at a very young age. They each understood what the other had gone through and the connection had bonded them in a way that was more than mere friendship.

  “Damn it, TooTall, I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “You’re right. I am miserable. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  The cowboy glanced over his shoulder at Matthew. “A way will come. You’ll see.”

  Matthew wasn’t going to bother asking him what he meant by that. Instead, he finished caring for his horse and walked over to the cattle barn to see Blake.

  Inside the office, Flo was still at her desk. She looked up at Matthew, then quickly motioned him toward the door that opened to Blake’s office.

  “He’s in there.”

  “And you’re obviously burning the midnight oil,” Matthew said to the woman. “Isn’t it time for you to go home?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t have anything there except a spoiled cat and a TV. They can wait.”

  Matthew gave her a dismissive wave, then entered Blake’s office. The man was on the phone, so Matthew used the time to pour himself a cup of the syrupy black coffee that had been left over from earlier in the day.

  By the time Matthew made himself comfortable in one of the padded chairs in front of Blake’s desk, the other man tossed the receiver of the landline back on its hook.

  “Damned hay grower! Just because we’re headed into winter, he thinks that gives him reason to price-gouge us ranchers. Well, I’ve got news for him. I can get it shipped in from California cheaper than what he’s asking.”

  Matthew took a careful sip of the coffee, then grimaced at the taste of the gritty liquid. “This stuff could probably run a diesel for twenty miles.”

  “Sorry. Flo thinks she’s above making coffee for me and I’ve been too busy.” Linking his hands at the back of his neck, he stretched, then leaned back in his executive chair. “Have you seen the weather forecast?”

  “No. We’ve been checking cattle all afternoon and my phone didn’t have a signal until we got back here to the ranch yard. Why? Is it supposed to get colder?”

  “Worse than that. Snow is being predicted for the southern part of the state. I’m worried about the calves at Red Bluff.”

  Red Bluff. Just hearing the ranch’s name caused his insides to twist into unbearable knots.

  Shaking his head, Matthew repeated the key word. “Snow? I don’t believe that for a minute. It would be a cold day in hell before snow fell at Red Bluff.”

  Blake thoughtfully rubbed a hand along his jaw. “I wouldn’t say that. I remember Dad talking about snow down there years ago.”

  “Years ago isn’t now. You’re worrying for nothing.”

  “I’m not worrying, but I am going to be cautious. That’s why I’m sending you back down there. If it does snow I want you to make sure the cows can get their calves to some sort of shelter. There’s four men already down there. If you—”

  Matthew felt as though his whole body was turning to a chunk of ice. “No! There’s no need for me to go to Red Bluff, Blake. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

  Blake stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, and Matthew figured he had gone a little crazy. Just the thought of seeing Camille again, of hearing her voice, touching her and then saying goodbye all over again, was too much for him to bear.

  “What the hell has come over you, Matthew? It isn’t like you to argue about something like this. In fact, it isn’t like you to argue at all!”

  Rising from the chair, Matthew walked over to the large picture window behind Blake’s desk. Beyond the glass he could see a portion of the ranch yard and a cluster of smaller barns and corrals illuminated by security lights. This had been his home, his life for so many years, he could find his way through the maze in the blackest of nights. And yet it was like TooTall had said. Matthew didn’t belong here anymore. Not when his heart was elsewhere.

  “Sorry, Blake. I realize you have enough problems on your hands without me adding to them. But—I—don’t want to go to Red Bluff. It’s that simple.”

  “Simple.” He repeated the word softly as though it was something foreign coming out of Matthew’s mouth. “That’s right! I give you a simple orde
r and you act as though I’m asking you to march into a war zone without a weapon to defend yourself! I don’t understand you, Matthew. And now that we’re speaking frankly, I’ll just come out and say it—I’m worried about you. You look awful and you’re acting even worse and—”

  “Okay, Blake,” he interrupted harshly. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I don’t want to go back to Red Bluff because—of Camille.”

  When Blake didn’t immediately reply, he turned to see the man was staring at him in stunned silence. “Camille? I don’t understand. Did you two get into it about something while you were down there?”

  Matthew felt his face turn as hot as a furnace. “No. It’s not anything like that, Blake. You see, I did something stupid while I was down at Red Bluff. I—uh, fell in love with your sister.”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed to shrewd slits and Matthew braced himself for the worst. Yet instead of the man spewing out a long tirade about betrayal and misconduct, a wide smile spread across his face.

  Finally, he said, “Well, thank God. I was afraid something was really wrong with you.”

  Groaning, Matthew lifted his hat and shoved a hand through his hair as though the act would clear his jumbled brain. “What are you talking about, Blake? Something is really wrong!”

  The misery in Matthew’s voice turned Blake’s smile into a concerned frown.

  “Why?” he asked. “Camille isn’t interested?”

  Once again Matthew felt like a torch had passed over his face. “What do you mean—interested?”

  Blake shook his head in disbelief, then followed that with a chuckle. “Okay, let me put it this way—does she like you?”

  Like? After all that he’d shared with Camille, the word seemed downright silly. But how, exactly, did she feel about him?, Matthew wondered for the umpteenth time. True, she’d made it very clear that she enjoyed his company in bed and even out of it. But she’d never talked about love or said that she might want him in her life for the long haul.

  “Well, yes. She likes me. I mean—we got along fine. Really fine.”