The Rancher Takes A Family. Judy Christenberry

      “The spoonfuls were very small, John. I’ve fed a baby before.”

      “Yeah, but—”

      “If you want me to wait until I take her to the doctor, I will. It’s your choice.”

      “No, I guess— When are you going to the grocery store?”

      “After breakfast and Betsy’s bath. I didn’t think he’d open before eight o’clock.”

      “Her baby seat is in the car. Make sure you strap her in.” He settled his daughter in her high chair again. “Be careful. Don’t drive too fast.”

      “No, I won’t.”

      He stared at her. “Am I acting like an idiot?”

      “Just a little bit,” Debra said with a smile. His obvious love for his child was very attractive and made it easy to forgive his difficult behavior toward her.

      “Fine. Just—just get her home safely.”

      “I will, I promise.”

      John remounted and joined his crew, but his worries continued to dominate his thoughts. It was the first time someone else had taken Betsy anywhere.

      Debra was unusually nervous when she drove the Cadillac Escalade to Westlake’s general store. She’d never been in such an expensive vehicle. It seemed foolish to Debra to pay for such a costly truck just to be sure Betsy was safe.

      It appeared the store owner agreed with her. “I couldn’t believe when John ordered this here car for his wife,” Charlie said. “Man, these things cost a fortune.”

      “Yes, so I’ve heard. But I guess it’s water under the bridge.”

      “I don’t know about that. He could sure sell it and pay off some debts.”

      “Would he get a lot for it?”

      “Sure. He’s hardly driven it since his wife died.”

      “Maybe he’ll decide to do that. Thanks for your help with the groceries.”

      “Glad to do it. You’ve got your hands full with two little ones. Did you get everything you need?”

      “I think so. Whatever Mrs. Richey did, she certainly organized and stocked the kitchen well.”

      “Shoot, that wasn’t Mrs. Richey. John had a housekeeper after he got married. Mrs. Richey insisted. But she left just before Mrs. Richey died. The lady of the house was unhappy with her work and fired her. Just as well. John couldn’t afford her salary with all the debt he’d incurred, anyway.”

      “I hope she found another job.”

      “Sure she did. A good cook can always find a job.”

      “I’m glad to hear it. Thanks again for your help.”

      Debra had a lot to think about as she drove home. Why hadn’t John sold the Escalade? His wife wasn’t here to use it. She certainly didn’t need it. She could drive John’s or Bill’s truck whenever she needed to go to town.

      This trip to town was certainly productive, she thought as she eyed the big box in the back. John wouldn’t be upset that she’d bought Betsy a playpen, would he? After all, the baby could already pull herself up and would learn to walk if she had a safe place to try.

      She could crawl around on the rug in the family room if someone was in there with her, but if Debra was to complete all her chores, she couldn’t watch the baby every minute. And Andy was too young for that responsibility. But he could watch Sesame Street and keep Betsy company if she was in the playpen.

      As soon as they got home, Debra sat on the floor, with Betsy right beside her, and put together the playpen. Andy thought he was helping when he handed his mother the screws. It may have slowed down the process a little, but she believed in building a child’s self-esteem, even if it took a little lie now and then.

      Soon she had Betsy in the new playpen and Andy on the sofa watching the television. She did chores until it was time to fix lunch, which reminded her that John hadn’t taken a sandwich like the other men. He would be starving. She planned her evening menu accordingly.

      Both kids went down for a nap in the afternoon and she cleaned the big, beautiful house. Then she did some baking after they woke up. Andy loved baking cookies with her. Truth be told, she probably enjoyed it more than he did. Even Betsy was enthusiastic, joining in their laughter. While the cookies baked, Debra sat and spoke to the baby, helping her make sounds and try to make words.

      The easiest one was Da-da. Debra wasn’t sure the baby knew she was naming her father, but she thought it would be fun for John. She could clearly remember the first time Andy called her Ma-ma.

      Andy sat down for a cookie as soon as it cooled, the chocolate chips soft and gooey. She enjoyed a cookie, too, but more than that she relished this precious time with her son. If she’d been back in Kansas City, she’d just be getting home from the diner and no doubt be exhausted and looking forward to bed.

      “Why can’t Betsy have a cookie, Mommy?” Andy asked, breaking into her thoughts.

      “Because chocolate isn’t good for babies, Andy. She’ll have to grow more teeth before she can eat chips, anyway.”

      “But I like them!” Andy said.

      “I know, honey. Betsy will, too, when she gets a little older. Oh, I need to feed the two of you so you can have your bath and go to bed before the men come in.”

      “Why don’t I get to stay up and see the cowboys?”

      “You will, honey, but right now they’re getting in late, too late for you to eat your dinner. After calving season, you’ll see a lot of them.”

      “What’s calving season?”

      “That’s when the mama cows have their babies.” When her son opened his mouth to ask more questions, she hurriedly said, “No, no more questions. I have too much to do right now.”

      Once the children were in bed, she began preparing dinner, trying to fix dishes she thought John would like. Which was hard to do since she didn’t know any of his likes or dislikes.

      Why did she keep thinking about the man?

      He was driving her crazy.

      She couldn’t possibly be attracted to him, could she? Well, she was sympathetic. She understood the anger he felt toward his first wife. She’d felt some anger toward her first husband, such as he was. But she wasn’t going to be hurt now. She was going to concentrate on her job and the children.

      And one angry man.