Cathy Mcdavid - The Rancher's Homecoming

Did baby raccoons bite? Sam couldn’t remember the vet’s advice. “We will.”

“Tomorrow?”

He thought of his lengthening task list. What was one more item?

“Tomorrow. After the furniture arrives.” He eased onto the main road from the parking lot. It had grown dark outside while they were with the vet.

“How will we warm the milk?” Lyndsey asked.

“The stove works.” If the propane tank was full and if he could locate a pan.

“Where will we get a cage?”

“The feed store might have one.”

“What if they don’t?”

“We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.” He could see his words had no effect. Worry lines creased his daughter’s small brow.

Maybe he should call the grief counselor, get some advice on how to handle Lyndsey and her quickly forming attachment to the kits. Heaven knew he hadn’t done well when left to his own devices.

“Ms. Hennessy might have a cage we can use.” Was that still Annie’s name or had she kept her ex-husband’s?

Lyndsey’s face lit up. “Do you think so?”

“Maybe.”

Seriously? Who was he kidding? The inn had burned down to the ground. From what the real estate agent told him, Annie, her mother and grandmother were left with no more than a few hastily gathered personal possessions.

“Or, she might know someone who does,” he suggested, thinking that possibility more likely.

“I want to take Porky and Daffy home to California with us,” Lyndsey promptly announced.

“We already talked about this. You know it’s not possible.”

“Why not?”

“They’re wild animals, not pets. Besides, you’ll be busy with school.”

“Benita will help me take care of them.”

Their housekeeper barely tolerated dogs in the house. “Benita has enough to do.”

“We can make a place for them in the backyard. Like at the zoo. With a swimming pool and everything. Dr. Murry said raccoons like water.”

What answer could he give that would make her understand?

“Lyndsey, we can’t take them home. They belong here. In Sweetheart. Living free in the wild.”

“But the woods are all burned and the animals ran away.”

“The trees will grow back and the animals didn’t all run away.”

“They’ll die like their mother and brothers!” Her voice quavered with outrage.

“We’ll turn them over to someone who will take good care of them. Like the wildlife refuge Ms. Hennessy mentioned.”

“I want to see it first.” There was no arguing with her.

Well, she came by it honestly. If Sam wasn’t so bullheaded, he might have realized his marriage was falling apart long ago and taken action—he had no idea what action.

“Fine. I promise. Wherever the baby raccoons go, you’ll see the place first.”

“Kits.”

“Kits,” he corrected himself, aware that round had gone to Lyndsey. “In the meantime, until we leave Sweetheart, you can keep them.” He proceeded slowly through one of the town’s two stoplights.

“I wanna call Grandpa and tell him about Porky and Daffy.”

“When we get back to the mo—” Sam hit the brakes, checking the rearview mirror to make sure no one was close behind him.

Annie, her grandmother and a little girl that had to be her daughter were walking along the sidewalk. Annie appeared to be struggling for control. Orla Hennessy, all of seventy-five, if not eighty, went in one direction and the little girl in the other. Neither paid attention to Annie, who’d momentarily stumbled in the confusion.

What in the world were the three of them doing out after dark?

Pulling onto the side of the road, he beeped the horn, thrust the transmission into Park and depressed the emergency brake. “Lyndsey, wait here. Don’t get out, you hear me?”

She sat up in her seat. “Where are you going?”

“To help Ms. Hennessy. I’ll be right back.”

She clasped the box to her as if Annie and her family were going to reach in and swoop up her prize possession. “We have to get Porky and Daffy back to the motel and feed them.”

“This won’t take long.”

“Ask her if she has a cage.”

Did she ever run out of questions?

“Hey, there.” Sam darted around the front of the truck to the sidewalk. “Out for an evening stroll?”

“Walking back from a friend’s house,” came Annie’s tight-lipped reply.

“Hop in, and I’ll give you a lift.”

“No, thanks. We’re fine.”

He was surrounded by stubborn women.

“Sam Wyler! As I live and breathe, is that you?” Granny Orla broke away from Annie’s grasp and propelled herself at Sam. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Sam returned the older woman’s hug, his throat surprisingly tight. “How are you, Granny Orla?”

She held him at arm’s length, giving him a thorough once-over, her eyes alight. “My, my. Handsome as ever. That granddaughter of mine should have never let you go.”

“I’m right here, Granny.” With both arms free, Annie had been able to secure a firm hold on her squirming daughter. “I can hear everything you’re saying.”

Granny winked at Sam. “I know that.”

He flashed a broad grin in return. “I always did like you.”

“That goes both ways, young man.”

The older woman barely reached the middle of his chest. As Sam recalled, neither did Fiona Hennessy. Annie must have gotten her height from her father, whom she hadn’t seen since starting first grade.

“You’re a cowboy!”

Sam’s attention was drawn downward to Annie’s little girl, a tiny imp who more closely resembled her grandmother and great-grandmother than Annie. Except for her compelling green eyes, which were the same shape and color as her mother’s.

“I am.”

“Do you have a horse?” She studied him with suspicion, as if having a horse was the measure of a real cowboy.

“Lots of them, actually. At my ranch in California. And a pony. From when my daughter, Lyndsey, was your age.”

“Can I ride him?”

“Nessa!” Annie gently chided the girl. “That’s not polite.”

“’Fraid California’s too far away.” Sam laughed, not the least offended. “But that’s a good idea. I should have the pony shipped out here for the Gold Nugget. Then your mom can bring you over for a ride.”

“What’s the pony’s name?”

He surveyed the traffic, which was light but a potential danger nonetheless. “Get in, and I’ll tell you about her on the drive home.”

“Can we, Mommy? Please?” Nessa yanked on Annie’s arm, stretching it to its limit.

Granny Orla was one step ahead of her great-granddaughter. “Fine idea.”

Outnumbered and clearly at her wits’ end, Annie sighed resignedly.

Sam allowed himself a grin as he opened the rear passenger door and helped the three inside. Annie didn’t avail herself of the hand he offered, but he didn’t let that deter him.

He had the opportunity of sharing her company for the next several minutes and intended to make full use of it.

Chapter Three

Sam’s daughter twisted around in the front seat the second Annie got into the truck.

“Did my dad ask you about a cage for the kits?”

“Just a minute ago.” She tried not to be swayed by the blaze of hope shining in the girl’s face. “I’ll get one for you by tomorrow and drop it off.”

“Really? Thank you!”

So much for not being swayed.

“What are kits?” Nessa asked, unable to sit still.

“Baby raccoons,” Lyndsey answered.

“Where? Can I see?” She leaned forward.

“When we stop the truck, if you’re good.” Annie placed a restraining hand on her daughter.

“We’ll be at the ranch tomorrow early,” Sam said. “The furniture truck’s due.”