Her Stubborn Cowboy. Patricia Johns

and she bent down, holding her fingers out toward them. Butter Cream let her approach, and the baby stretched to give her a curious sniff. “I guess you were wrong,” Mack said. “There’s only one.”

      “I’m not wrong.” It was possible that the second baby was still inside and Butter Cream might need some help to deliver, but there was most definitely a second baby.

      “Let me see...” Chet came closer. He and Butter Cream had a good relationship going, and she allowed him to feel her belly. It was still distended from pregnancy, but it was empty of babies. That meant there was at least one more kid outside in the field without its mother.

      “What’s wrong?” Mack asked. “Is she going to have another one?”

      “She already had it,” Chet replied. “And it’s out there somewhere.”

      He jutted his chin toward the open barn door, and a gust of cold, damp air swept inside at the same moment, raising goose bumps on her arms.

      “How do you know?” She rubbed her arms, her gaze flickering toward the door.

      “I told you that she was pregnant with more than one. The other might not have survived, but there are times when a goat will accept one twin and reject the other. If it’s alive, it won’t be for long if we don’t find it.”

      Mackenzie sobered and stood up instantly. “Come on, girl,” she said gently, herding Butter Cream toward the stall. “In your pen. Let’s go...”

      When they reached the door, the wind was whipping through the long grass in ripples and sending up spirals of dust from the dirt road.

      “Where would it be?” Mack asked, raising her voice above the sound of the wind, and she stopped to look around, holding her hat down with one hand.

      “They were in the small pasture, right?” Chet asked. “The one beside the cows?”

      Mack squinted, suddenly looking less sure of herself. “I think so.”

      “Come on.” He headed for the truck. “We’ll drive over. It’ll be faster. But when we get there, we’ll have to search on foot.”

      Mackenzie beat him to the truck, and by the time she slid into the driver’s seat, the first few fat drops of rain were hitting the dusty gravel like tiny bombs. The air smelled moist and good, but rain also meant that the lost kid was going to be even colder than it already was. He could only hope that Butter Cream had cleaned the baby off before abandoning it.

      The truck lurched forward before Chet had even slammed the door shut, and Mackenzie glanced in his direction, then back at the road. The wind was blowing harder now, and the rain started to fall in earnest, hurtling straight into the windshield and blurring their vision, even with the wipers sloshing back and forth at full speed.

      “I can barely see!” Mack said.

      “There, there—” Chet pointed to the turn that would bring them to the smallest enclosed pasture, which was also closest to the barn, and she hauled the wheel left, the tires spinning in the newly created mud. As they pulled up to the gate, the truck dropped heavily at the front end, and the tires spun.

      “What was that?” Mack exclaimed, leaning forward to look.

      “Pothole. See if you can back up,” Chet suggested.

      Mack put the truck into Reverse and hit the gas, but it made no difference. The tires spun again, but they weren’t going anywhere.

      “Shoot...” Mack heaved a sigh, and for a moment, he thought he saw tears mist her eyes. He knew she wasn’t looking for sympathy, but he had the urge to put an arm around her—an urge he quickly quashed.

      “Come on,” Chet said. “Let’s go look for the kid, and we’ll figure out the truck when we find it. I have some tricks up my sleeve yet.”

      She sucked in a breath and exchanged a look with him. Then they both pushed their hats more firmly onto their heads and pushed open their doors, hopping out into the hammering rain. Chet wasn’t sure what he expected of Mack out here, but she wasn’t waiting on him and beelined into the middle of the pasture. Chet stayed closer to the fence. They’d cover more ground searching different areas.

      He was still frustrated, though. Ten years had passed and some things just didn’t change. Last night, Andy had called dibs—even though he didn’t know that Mack was back yet—and while that was a stupid way to decide anything, his younger brother also held all the cards. Chet shaded his eyes and looked toward Mackenzie, who was standing with her back to him, legs akimbo and hand still holding her hat securely on her head. She was somehow both softer and stronger at the same time. She’d gotten only more beautiful over the years.

      A faint bleat caught his ear, and he nearly stepped on the tiny thing before he saw it. The kid was drenched with rain, even smaller than its brother back in the barn. It was chocolate brown and lay curled up in a pathetic little ball by a fence post.

      “Over here!” Chet hollered, and Mack jogged toward them. The rain had wet her through, her shirt clinging to her body and rivulets of water pouring down her collarbones and sticking her hair into dark gold tendrils against her skin. Chet picked up the goat and it shivered in his arms.

      “It’s alive—that’s a relief,” Mack said, wiping water from her face. “I think I saw an old blanket in the back of the truck—”

      “Helen always kept one back there,” Chet said. “If Butter Cream won’t take her, you might just have earned yourself a bottle baby.”

      Mack gave him an appropriate look of alarm. At least she could appreciate how much work was coming her way. They trudged back through the blinding rain toward the truck. The vehicle hung at an angle, the front driver’s-side wheel deep in a pothole. She stayed close to his side, the warmth of her body emanating against his arm, and when he looked down at her, he realized that Mack was oddly comforting—a comfort he hadn’t known he’d even needed.

      Chet pulled open the passenger’s-side door, and between them both, they got the tiny goat wrapped in the blanket. It needed milk, and they didn’t have much time before it lost its strength, and that would be fatal.

      “Go around and put it in Reverse,” Chet said, pulling Mack clear of another pothole as he spoke. She leaned into him as he tugged her to the side, her slight weight colliding with his chest. “Easy does it,” he said, boosting her back up. He didn’t dare let his mind go to the possibilities of her in his arms.

      Mack met his gaze and a smile crinkled at the corners of her eyes. Just as quickly, she was out of his arms, and she hurried around the back of the truck to hop into the driver’s side. The rain came down in a steady sheet, and Chet was pretty sure that there wasn’t a part of him that was dry at this point, but it would be a while before he was back home, so it was better not to think about it.

      Chet levered his body against the grate of the truck and shouted, “Now!”

      The wheel started to spin and he pushed against the grate with all his strength. His boots slid in the mud, and he could hear the tires tearing into the side of the pothole. When it stopped, the truck sank even farther down. This wasn’t going to work.

      Chet stood up and went around to the window.

      “It’s no good,” Chet said. “We’re only digging deeper.”

      Mackenzie locked eyes with him for a moment, then nodded. She reached for the bundled-up little goat and cuddled it close against her chest.

      “I guess we’d better walk, then,” she said. “What’ll I do about the truck?”

      He took her by the arm, helping to lift her back down to the ground. She bent her head against the rain, and he slammed the door shut behind them.

      “This is why you have neighbors,” he said, raising his voice above the drum of the storm. “Andy and I used to get our truck out of potholes all the time. I just need some twine and a two-by-four. But first things first.”