Counting On The Cowboy. Shannon Taylor Vannatter

the fishing cabin?” Devree tried not to cringe. She’d much rather work in one of the new structures instead of an old abandoned one.

      “With a wedding in two weeks and the new cabins unfinished—” Landry adjusted her pillow “—it’ll be quicker to transform the fishing cabin into a honeymoon hideaway than finishing one of the others.”

      “But no one’s lived in the cabin since I moved out after our wedding. Becca cleaned it—” Chase winced as he obviously realized he’d brought up a sore subject “—but it needs caulk around the plumbing and trim work.”

      Right on cue, the muscle in Brock’s jaw had flexed at the mention of his mother. “I’ll check it out and tackle it in the morning.” His words came out clipped, his mind still obviously on whatever his issues were with Becca.

      “It should be vacant by now.” Landry cringed. “Chase set mouse traps.”

      That bit of info almost stopped Devree’s heart. She squelched a shudder. Surely, there wouldn’t be any critters. Not live ones, anyway.

      “I’ll try to find where they’re getting in,” Brock promised.

      “We’ll be fine,” she assured her sister and Chase. But would she? With mice? If there were rodents, there might be snakes or worse...spiders. “Don’t worry about a thing. Y’all just concentrate on baby Sprint.”

      “Sprint?” Landry squinted one eye, her thinking mode.

      “I figure his or her dad is Chase, so she or he is Sprint.”

      Landry’s giggle mixed with Chase’s chuckle. A nice relaxed sound. Just what she wanted to hear from her sister.

      She turned to see that she’d even elicited a grin out of Brock.

      “No matter what y’all name the baby, that’s what I’m calling him or her.” She shot her sister a wink. “I’ve still got boxes of wedding decorations to stash in the chapel.”

      “You’ll need help.” Landry smoothed her hands over the roundness of her belly.

      “I’m on it.” Chase moved Landry’s feet, started to get up.

      “Stay put,” Brock ordered. “I’ll help her.”

      “That’s not in your job description.”

      “She’s your top priority.” Brock pointed at Landry. “I’m here. Let me help.”

      Chase settled Landry’s feet back in his lap. “I appreciate that.”

      So, Brock could be caring—just not toward his mother. Despite the tension, it would be nice to have someone else take part of Chase’s load so he could focus on Landry. And given time, maybe Becca and Brock could work things out.

      He followed her to her car where they each grabbed a stack of plastic containers and headed for the chapel.

      She hadn’t anticipated working with the broad-shouldered, way too good-looking cowboy. But she couldn’t let him distract her.

      Without shifting his load, he shouldered the door to the chapel open and held it for her. “Where do you want these?”

      “On the back pew will be fine.”

      He set down her containers. “Is that all?”

      “Yes.” It would help if he stashed everything in the loft for her, but that would mean having him stick around. “Thanks. I can take it from here.”

      He tipped his hat and exited. Through the side window, she saw him hurry toward the long building that housed a dozen hands and the foreman, Troy. His temporary home.

      She had to concentrate on the chapel and the fishing cabin. Not the cowboy.

      * * *

      Barely daylight, Brock nailed the final board into place on the play station in the goat pen. A buck, barely two feet tall, nibbled his elbow. And they said cats were curious.

      “Just give me a minute, little guy, and I’ll get out of your way.” He gathered his tools, slipped them in his belt and took a step back. Just as soon as he was out of the way, all five bucks climbed on the station, wrestling their way to the top. The matching structure in the doe’s pen was getting used as well. He slipped out the gate, fastened it back.

      He’d never built such a thing, but he’d gotten ideas off the internet last night. Apparently, good ones. With wire fencing in place and two more wooden rails at the top, they should stay in now.

      Next on the agenda, he planned to caulk the fishing cabin and make the repairs there. He needed to keep busy. Keep his mind off the pretty redhead. And his mother. On his first official day as handyman, he’d already set up a time for the demolition of the old storm cellar by the chapel.

      He loaded an assortment of lumber he hadn’t used into his truck and drove over to the barn. Once the fishing cabin and Chase’s new house were complete, getting his friend moved before the baby came would be his priority.

      After that, he’d focus on whatever else needed fixing. But hopefully, he wouldn’t be here long.

      As he stacked the wood neatly back where he’d found it, a prickle of awareness swept over him. Someone watching. He glanced around and saw movement in the loft. A moment later, a child’s head popped up, then ducked again.

      “Are you supposed to be up there alone?”

      Busted, she came out of hiding, peered down at him. “My grandpa had to take guests to their room and I sort of slipped out. But I’m real careful when I climb in the loft and I can hear the bus when it gets to Cheyenne’s house. She lives next door. Once I hear it, I can run to the road. And I’m real fast.” She climbed down to reveal light brown hair and freckles. First grade maybe.

      “You shouldn’t slip out on your grandpa like that. He’ll worry.”

      “I’ll be back before he knows I’m gone. I’m Ruby.”

      “I’m Brock.”

      “I know who you are.” She plopped on a hay bale. “You’re my uncle.”

      A hollow weight settled in his chest. Had his mom had another child—his sibling?

      “But I’m not supposed to tell anybody. It’s me and Mama’s secret. I’m real good at keeping secrets. I figured you already knew, so I don’t gotta keep it from you.”

      He swallowed hard. “So who’s your mama?”

      “You haven’t met her yet. Her name’s Scarlet. My grandma’s favorite color was red. So she named Mama Scarlet and Mama named me Ruby to memorialize her.”

      “Like I said, you best get back before your grandpa misses you.”

      She gasped. “There’s the bus.” She waved, then bolted for the ranch house as fast as her little legs would carry her. Minutes later, he heard the bus stop at the end of the drive. It didn’t tarry long before driving past.

      Scarlet? Did he have a sister? But red had never been his mom’s favorite color. At least when he’d lived with her anyway. Maybe the child was confused? Or playing a game?

      A scream echoed through the morning stillness.

      Brock bolted in the direction it came from.

      Another shriek from Gramp’s old fishing cabin.

      He charged full force.

      On the porch, Devree held something small with pliers. She dropped both with a screech and did a little dance in her high heels.

      “What’s wrong?”

      She whirled in his direction, her business-style skirt slim-fitting at her knees. Wild-eyed, mouth open and pulled down at the corners, she looked ready to let out another blood-curdling shriek. She sucked in a breath, shuddered. “A mouse.