Linda Goodnight - Lone Star Dad

“Are you going to work today or harass me about my single status?”

“Both.” Brady plunked the half-empty mug on the long counter that ran behind Quinn’s desk. “I need some minor tweaks to the Robinson house.”

“Figures. Let me pull those up.” He rotated his computer screen and typed in the project name. “The mama was gone this morning.”

“Our mama? Where did she go? I thought she was helping Charity fluff the resale house on Hannah Street.”

Quinn poked his brother’s arm with the side of his fist. “Not our mama. The mama cat. She wasn’t there last night, either.”

“Kittens still there?”

“She didn’t move them, if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s gone. The kittens aren’t.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Brady pinched his upper lip. “You’ve got coyotes out your way. What are you going to do if she doesn’t return?”

Quinn squeezed his aching biceps. If it wasn’t one problem, it was another.

“I have no idea.”

* * *

When he arrived home that evening, the sun was low in the west and shadowy tree fingers gripped the shed. He hoped the mother cat had returned. He’d even stopped at the IGA and picked up a few cans of cat food for her. Not that he wanted her sticking around once the kittens were old enough to travel, but she needed her strength to see them to adolescence.

He dumped the bag of groceries on the counter along with a foil-wrapped casserole his mother had brought to the office. He glanced at the bottle of painkillers sitting harmlessly next to the sugar bowl. He picked them up and read the warning label for the thousandth time.

“‘May be habit-forming.’” He spat a cheerless laugh. “No kidding.”

The crawly craving started up. Just one more. Just one extra pill and his arm would stop aching and he wouldn’t have to think so much about all he’d lost. His mind would slide away into that peaceful place where nothing hurt, not even his soul, and...

He slammed the plastic container onto the counter and, heart pounding, jogged out into the cold, across the yard and to the shed.

Derrick was already there. He held a baby kitten in each hand.

Quinn’s heart sunk lower than the setting sun. The mama was nowhere in sight. Four babies writhed and cried as if they hadn’t eaten all day.

“Something’s wrong with them,” Derrick said, his usually sullen face creased in worry.

“The mama wasn’t here this morning.”

“I know.”

Quinn shot him a quick look. “Last night, either.”

“I didn’t think she’d run off like that.”

“Something must have happened to her. She wouldn’t leave them on purpose. She’s a good mama. Like yours.”

Derrick’s expression turned belligerent. “What would you know about it?”

“Not a thing.” He didn’t know why he wanted to butt into the shaky relationship between Derrick and Gena. They were not his problem. These cats were. Sort of.

Quinn hunkered down beside the box and lifted one of the kittens, a solid white puffball. Her mouth opened in a display of pointed teeth, pink gums and desperation. She wailed, loud and strong.

Awkwardly, he stroked her head and back. “Shh. Don’t cry, little one. Shh.”

“You really think the mama’s gone for good?” Derrick looked as sad as if they were orphaned humans instead of stray cats.

“Whether she is or not, the fact remains, these kittens won’t survive without her much longer.”

“You got a computer?”

“Why?”

Derrick slumped and shook his head in disgust. “Dude. Haven’t you ever heard of research? Somebody knows what to do. Google it.”

The kid was likely right, but company in his cabin was not Quinn’s favorite thing.

He carefully replaced the crying kitten, sympathy tugging at him. They were pitiful little creatures. He weighed their struggle against his own and gave in. “My laptop’s on the table inside.”

Derrick didn’t hesitate. With a gentle hand that belied his don’t-care attitude, he settled the kittens onto the warm pad, murmured reassurances and rose. “Let’s go. They’re starving.”

“Maybe Gena would know what to do.”

As he shuffled to the doorway, Derrick glanced to one side, eyes avoiding Quinn’s. “I doubt it.”

“She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”

The kid looked up and scoffed. “Are you kidding me? She’d ground me for years.”

“I must have made a great impression on her.” He’d been less than friendly, which he figured was justifiable. They’d trespassed. Not him. But Gena’s attitude rankled him. He didn’t want people hanging around, but he wasn’t Jack the Ripper, either.

“She gets all twitchy and weird when I mention your name.” The kid shoved his hands into the pouch of his hoodie. “Did you, like, know each other back in the old days or something?”

The old days. Right.

Quinn led the way out of the shed and took care to secure the rickety latch. Darkness blanketed the yard except for the pale light from a white moon. The kid shouldn’t be here this late. Home was a long walk in the cold and dark. “We both attended Gabriel’s Crossing High School but didn’t run in the same circles.”

“Yeah, you were Mr. Big Shot. She was nobody.”

Quinn cut the kid a sharp look. “Did Gena tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to. Your picture is plastered in the trophy cases and on all kinds of plaques. Hers isn’t.”

A hot pain slid up Quinn’s elbow and into his shoulder. “Still?”

“Yeah. Kind of weird.”

It sure was.

Quinn fell silent. Old memories made for long nights. Forget the past. Move on.

Inside the house, he turned his attention to the kittens. “Laptop’s there. Have at it.”

The boy lifted the lid and said in a reverent tone, “Touch screen. Sweet.”

“I’m an architect. High tech comes in handy.”

Derrick’s fingers raced over the keyboard. “You do graphics and stuff?”

“Yeah. Stuff. Lots and lots of stuff.”

“Plenty of sites about orphaned kittens.” The boy clicked on one of them.

Quinn leaned over his shoulder to watch. In minutes, they’d learned the rudiments of caring for the kittens. “Looks like we’ll need milk replacer from the vet. Too late for that tonight.”

“We can try this homemade stuff.” Derrick pointed at the screen and rattled off the list of ingredients.

“I have the eggs but not the condensed milk.”

“We could go to the store.” Derrick’s voice was hopeful, though his expression said he expected Quinn to turn him down.

“You need to go home.” His mom would be getting worried by now.

“And let the kittens die?” Derrick slammed out of the chair in a fury, fists tight at his side. “Creep. If you won’t take me to town, I’ll walk.”

“Whoa. Whoa. Calm down there, tiger. Call home for permission first. I don’t want her on my case.”

Derrick didn’t ease off. “That makes two of us.”

Quinn tried to remember where he’d left his cell. “Phone’s in the truck. Be right back.”

As he stepped outside, Gena’s SUV broke through his protective line of trees. She jerked to a stop next to his pickup and stormed out, slamming the door with vehemence.

“Is Derrick over here?”

No use getting testy with him. He hadn’t invited the little twerp. “In the house.”

She shot him a hard glance and marched to the front door. She waited there in her jaunty knitted cap with her arms crossed over a blue coat as if unsure whether to barge into his cabin or wait for his permission. Feeling obstinate, he didn’t give it. Instead he took his sweet time finding his cell phone, all the while watching her from the corner of his eye.