The Texas Ranger's Heiress Wife. Kate Welsh

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СКАЧАТЬ If you hadn’t kept in touch with him, and dropped little pieces of information about his life to me, he could have been dead for all I knew.”

      Abby shook her head. “Brendan is an idiot. But, Helena, he did ask after you—when he finally got in touch. I wasn’t to tell you, however.

      “You were brave and steadfast in your love for him. Suppose that monster of a guardian of yours had figured out that you and Josh were spying to save Bren? I shudder to think what would have happened. My great, giant, pigheaded idiot of a brother needs a good swift kick in the tail!”

      Helena made her excuses after that, changed, then left Abby and Patience to their talk of babies. She retrieved Paint Box from outside the hotel and left Tierra del Verde and Brendan behind. But in the back of her mind, one phrase resounded.

      He did ask after you.

      * * *

      Two or so hours later, Helena slogged through knee-deep mud to help her men pull a frightened newborn Texas longhorn to safety. The incessant lowing of the nervous mama in the background wasn’t helping settle the little one. But there was no hope of quieting the cow, which had probably delivered only the day before.

      There was no better mother in the bovine kingdom than a Texas longhorn. To protect their progeny from a predator, the cows were known to band together in a circle with their horns outward, keeping their calves and heifers safely in the center. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much a cow could do if her curious offspring wandered into a mud pit that was normally a watering hole.

      “It’ll be just fine, little one,” Helena murmured as she reached the struggling baby, which went still. Since her voice seemed to soothe the animal and stop its needless struggle, Helena kept up the low, quiet crooning. “I know you’re scared, but we’re here to help.” Big brown eyes stared into hers and stole her heart. This one was a keeper. Heifer or calf, this one would be staying at Shamrock to help build its future. “You’ll be back with your mama in no time,” she went on. “I promise.”

      Over her shoulder she called, “Toss me a rope,” and her eyes connected with Brendan’s. She hadn’t even heard him ride up. Were she not in a life-or-death struggle, she’d have laughed at the nonplussed look on his face. She saw the exact moment he realized the full import of the men taking instructions from her. A look of surprise passed over his face and he backed up, bumping into his temperamental gelding. She grinned, then went back to caring for her endangered stock. But her thoughts were split.

      “You were to tell me when ya were ready to leave town,” he shouted.

      The calf balked at the sharp sound of Brendan’s voice, and its skull connected with Helena’s chin. This was the first time she’d really understood the term “seeing stars.” She shook her head, managing to catch the rope as it left Hodges’s grip and sailed toward her.

      Forcing her mind off Brendan’s glowering image, she stuffed the end of the rope through the thick mud and positioned it behind the poor baby’s front legs. After fishing the rope out on the other side, she tied a bowline knot to keep it from tightening or loosening. All that was left was to toss the end back to Hodges.

      “Get ready. When I release the suction the mud has on the calf’s front legs, keep a steady pressure on the line till I can free the hindquarters. I’ll let you know when to back your roan up and pull us both free.”

      Once she nodded, it took only a moment. When she felt the rope tighten, Helena curled her toes in her boots so they’d come along for the ride. She felt the deep suction pull at her and the calf, then resistance, more resistance, and then, almost like a cork pulled from a bottle, she and the calf were free. It wasn’t a minute later that the mother and baby were reunited, and silence reigned but for the sound of suckling. Hodges dismounted and retrieved his rope.

      Wearing a rueful grin, Yates handed Helena her hat. “At least this isn’t covered in mud,” he said. Then the two men stood there, awaiting her instructions.

      A glance at Brendan, who remained tight-lipped, his hands on his hips, made the decision for her. “I’m not sure that calf can make it to the barn on his own, and I want them close so we can watch for any problems over the next few days.” She grabbed Paint Box’s reins and mounted. “I’ll take the calf if you’ll hand him to me. No sense in anyone else getting wet and muddy.”

      Yates, the bigger of the two hands, moved toward the calf, and laughed when he got close. “You were right, boss. He is a calf. How’d you know? He was halfway up his belly in that mud.”

      Helena chuckled. “Only a hardheaded male would ignore his mama and get into a predicament like that.” She rode over to the cow and her baby, on the off chance the mother got riled. But typical of the gentle longhorns Helena ran on her spread, the mama just bawled a little in protest as Yates picked up her babe and stretched the little calf across Helena’s lap.

      Hodges glanced uncertainly toward Brendan and said under his breath, “You want us to come along, or keep checking this section for any cows having calving troubles?”

      “Keep checking. And don’t worry about him. He’s harmless.” Physically, anyway. Emotionally, the man was poison. At least for her.

      Yates took a clean bandanna from his back pocket and handed it up to her. “Don’t look harmless right now. Your chin’s bleeding like a stuck pig, thanks to his big mouth.”

      Helena pulled off her muddy gloves and stuffed them in her back pockets, then took the cloth. Only now aware of the wound, she pressed it to her skin and hissed in a sharp breath at the burning pain. “Just keep checking the cows. There are less birthing problems with this breed, but there’s always a chance of a breech. I’ll be fine and so will Joker here.”

      Hodges laughed. “Joker. Something tells me we’re going to have another bull roaming across Shamrock.”

      She managed a grin, well aware she was being a tad too sentimental for a ranch owner. “I do have some extra time invested in this little guy, after all, and another bull will give us a second bloodline running through our herd. After the way we helped him out today, he’ll remember and be as friendly as King and Jack. I’ll see you all later. Let me know when you get back, okay?”

      Both men nodded and went to mount up.

      Uncomfortably muddy and wet, and now in pain, Helena was determined to avoid Brendan for as long as possible. Without a word or a glance for him, she waved to Yates and Hodges, then wheeled Paint toward home. She kicked the mare into an easy trot, but when she checked to see if the mama cow was keeping up, found she was lagging a bit. So Helena pulled back on the reins and settled Paint into a walk, and the cow closed the distance. Brendan had already mounted and was nearly at her side by then. She turned back around and stared straight ahead.

      “You left town without me,” he accused when he drew even with her.

      She’d have laughed at the irony of his complaint, but it still hurt too much. “How does it feel?” she muttered instead.

      “If ya were tryin’ to teach me some kind of lesson, it was pretty childish to compromise your safety to do it.”

      Helena bit back what she really wanted to say. Listening to Patience and Abby make plans for their babies, and discuss how their husbands were so protective of them, had been painful for her. Especially since the person she’d thought would protect her had abandoned her in a strange land at the first sign of trouble in their marriage.

      Oh, СКАЧАТЬ