The Bull Rider's Twins (15 page)

“I understand, Mr. Callahan. Would you like to see your wife, or visit the neonatal—”

“Darla,” Judah said. “I need to see my wife.”

The doctor led him to Darla's room. She was pale, and had a sheet pulled up to her neck.

“Hey, beautiful,” Judah said. “How do you feel?”

“Like I've been through a washer.” She looked at him as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Have you seen the babies? What do you think?”

“I came to see you first.” Judah kissed her forehead, then her lips.

“Well, apparently your daughters were anxious to see you,” Darla told him. “They get their impatience from the Callahan side of the tree.”

He tried to smile for her sake. “Everything's going to be fine.”

“I know,” Darla said. “They're Callahans. They're tough.”

Judah nodded, his throat tight. He hoped so. God, how he hoped so.

When Judah saw his daughters ten minutes later, he honestly thought his heart stopped. He felt for his chest, wondering if he'd imagined a skipped beat. His daughters weren't tough at all. They were tiny, half the size of footballs maybe, with more tubes than a baby should endure taped to teeny appendages.

He wanted to cry. Pete's daughters had gone longer in the womb than these, and at their birth, Judah had been totally unnerved by those tiny little babies. He was overcome now by the urge to hold his daughters, but he knew he couldn't.

He had to stay strong for Darla.

“You're as beautiful as your mother,” he told his twin girls through the glass. “You don't know this now, but she's a nurse. She can help you grow big and strong.”

Then his shoulders began to shake, and he started to cry, wondering what he could have done differently to help his tiny babies grow. The doctor didn't have to lie to him. Judah could tell that these babies might not make it, and if they did, they might not be strong, barrel-racing, boot-scooting cowgirls. “You've got me on your team,” he told them, “and I'm a big, tough guy. Daddy won't let anything happen to you. Nothing at all.”

But he thought they needed guardian angels, too.

“Don't worry,” a voice said next to him.

Judah turned, startled to see Fiona's Native American friend standing at his side.

“Do not worry,” he said, his black eyes sure and calm as he met Judah's gaze. “These are blessings, and they are meant to be here. They are meant to make you strong.”

Judah blinked. “You mean, I must make them strong.”

“No.” He went back to perusing the tiny bassinets.

After a moment, he surprised Judah by taking out an iPhone and snapping a picture. “I will say prayers,” he told Judah, and then ambled down the hall.

Judah stared after the man, who disappeared around the corner before he had a chance to say anything else, stunned as he was by the sudden visit. Then he glanced back at his daughters, his gaze searching, but strangely enough, he felt calmer now.

“I'm going to go take care of your mother,” Judah told his daughters. “But I'll be back. Every day you'll see my face at this window. For now you just rest, and when you're ready, I'll be here to hold you. Daddy will always be around to hold you, until finally it's your turn to take care of me.”

Judah loped off to find his wife. It was just beginning to hit him that he was a father now, for real. Those tiny bundles were his, and he felt as if he'd just been handed the world's biggest trophy and the shiniest buckle ever made.

“H
E'S CHANGED
,” Fiona told Burke a week later. “I don't know what's come over Judah, but he's seems in permanent ‘ohm' mode. Have you noticed the calmer, more relaxed Judah? When he's not at the hospital, that is.”

“Guess he likes being a father.” Burke put away the last of the dishes and smiled at her. “He just didn't know how much he would, maybe.”

“He's different.” Fiona considered her nephew with some pleasure. “Nothing rattles him anymore. He never even men
tions being shot. I've got the ballistics report from the sheriff, but Judah never talks about what happened that night, so I'm sure not going to bring it up.”

Burke shrugged. “The shooting wasn't important to Judah, as long as Darla was fine. I think he believes it was an accident, and if it wasn't, Sheriff Cartwright'll let him know. All Judah cares about is that he married Darla with no static from next door, and he has his daughters. That's all that matters to him.” Burke looked over Fiona's shoulder at the paper she held. “So what does it say?”

“That the gun was a .38. It's not registered to Bode or anybody else in this town. Likely it was black market.” Fiona frowned, her thoughts moving from the pleasant aspect of her two new great-nieces to the rumblings on the ranch. “Which scares me, because it means we don't know what we're dealing with. It's a new element. I was hoping it was Bode,” she said, “because we could have easily handled him.”

Burke frowned. “Does the sheriff have any theories?”

“They found no footprints, and no new vehicles coming through town that they noticed that night or since. No one's been in town asking questions, and nobody has contacted the sheriff's office with any tips. And everyone knows about the shooting, because most of Diablo was there. So if somebody strange was hanging around, Sheriff Cartwright would get a call in a hurry.”

“Why would someone we don't know want to take a pot-shot at Judah?” Burke asked.

Fiona and he looked at each other for a long time.

Then they turned back to cleaning the kitchen, both to their own tasks, without saying another word.

S
INCE
D
ARLA HAD REQUIRED
a C-section, her mother and all her friends wanted to come over and take care of her. Judah found he didn't have as much time alone with his wife as he
wished, thanks to the steady stream of callers. He'd asked Darla if she'd like for him to start screening her visitors a bit, trim her social time, so she could rest—and so he could spend some time with her.

Darla had said she enjoyed the company and knew he needed to be working, so he might as well go do what he had to do and let everybody else look in on her if they wanted to. He'd tried to act as if he had a whole lot he could be doing, but the truth was, his brothers were covering for him, and shooed him away from the chores if he ever came to help.

It was getting depressing. There was nothing for him to do at the hospital except stare through the glass at his daughters, and because he was there so much, it seemed to him that they never grew. He didn't detect any changes at all, which gave him the nearest thing to a panic attack he could ever recall having.

In fact, staring at his babies and not being able to do anything to help them was worse than a bad ride. He'd rather be thrown any day of the week than be helpless, as he was now.

And Darla didn't want him hanging around. That much was clear. She said she had “lady” moments he couldn't help with, which he'd decided was code for
I'm trying to figure out pumping breast milk, so I need Jackie and Aberdeen more than you right now.

Although he would have been more than happy to help with that. He was pretty sure Darla's breasts were a lot bigger right now, and he wouldn't have minded reacquainting himself with them, which he supposed was a chauvinistic thought, except that he missed his wife and wanted to feel he had some connection with her.

He felt like a roommate. He wasn't even sleeping with her, having banished himself to a guest room so she could rest, and so he wouldn't accidentally turn over in the night, forget and reach for her, and crush her stitches or something.
He didn't know if she had stitches. He wasn't certain how a C-section was performed, exactly. He did feel that his wife was in a fragile state right now, and the best thing he could do was not roll over on her in his sleep.

But she hadn't invited him into her room, either.

Forced away from chores on the ranch and outnumbered by females in his house, Judah slunk off to the bunkhouse to try to center himself. He flung himself onto the leather sofa and closed his eyes in complete appreciation of the quietude.

Which lasted all of five minutes before the door blew open on a strong gust of wind. Judah didn't open his eyes until he realized the door hadn't closed.

He sighed upon seeing his visitor. “It would be you, Tunstall. An ill wind blows no good.”

“Your brothers said I'd find you here,” Sidney said. “Mind if I talk to you?”

Judah sat up and motioned to the sofa. “Sit.”

He waited for Sidney to unload. Hopefully, this was about anything other than Darla. Right now, Judah wasn't in the mood to discuss his wife, or his life, or much of anything. He didn't even want company.

“Congratulations on the twins,” Sidney said.

“No doubt you wish Darla was married to you. Probably, you figure that as a doctor, you could care for them better than I can,” Judah said sourly.

“Problems?” Sidney asked.

“Do I look like I'm having problems?”

“You always look like you're having problems, Judah.” Sidney smiled. “Your daughters are going to be fine.”

Judah crooked a brow. “Do you think so? Or are you just blowing smoke up my ass for your own nefarious purposes?”

“Now, Callahan,” Sidney said. “Darla told me you were having a few little worries about your girls. I just came to reassure you.”

Judah grimaced. “Because you're a pediatrician or a wizard, and know so much.”

Sidney shook his head. “Look. I know all this animosity isn't because of Darla. I know you're worried. Darla loves you. She just wants you to lighten up so she can quit worrying about
you.
”

“Did she send you to tell me this or are you applying for a job as a marriage counselor?” Judah couldn't have said why he was so ornery. Pretty much anything Tunstall said was going to rile him. His brothers could give testimony to the fact that just about everything annoyed Judah lately. “Okay,” he finally said. “I'll admit I'm a little worked up. But that doesn't mean I want you here ladling out advice and words of comfort I don't need.”

Sidney nodded. “All right.”

“So you can go.” Judah waved a hand toward the door.

“I haven't finished.”

Judah raised a brow. “Then would you get on with it? I don't have all day to listen to your clichés.”

Sidney laughed. “You really have it bad, don't you?”

“Have what bad?” He frowned.

“Never mind,” the doctor said. “Listen, what I wanted to ask you is…” He lowered his voice, even though there was no one else in the bunkhouse. “Well, I've been talking to Diane lately. And I was wondering—”

Judah held up a hand. “No. You can't marry her to fulfill the terms of that inheritance that's hanging over your head. Diane isn't Darla. Darla was being…well, she was trying to be helpful because she's like that, and you caught her at a difficult time in her life, and…I don't want to talk about it.”

“I wasn't talking about Darla. You were,” Sidney said. “All I want to know is if you think Diane is ready to date. I didn't say I wanted to marry her. Jeez.”

Judah lowered his eyelids, considering him through slitted eyes. “You're kind of a snake in the grass, aren't you?”

“I resent that!”

Sidney really did sound riled. Judah grunted, realizing he'd drawn blood, when he hadn't drawn any with all the other barbs he'd flung at the doc. “All right. Why Diane?”

“I like her,” Sidney said with a sudden flush of his angled cheekbones. “I like her little girls.”

“Those are Creed and Aberdeen's little girls, too,” Judah said. “And Diane is… I don't know about Diane. Why the hell are you asking me?”

Sidney shrugged. “I'd like to do this right.” He stood. “Anyway, sorry to take up your time. Good luck with the twins and—”

“Hang on a minute,” Judah said, motioning for him to sit back down. “Don't go off all offended.”

“I'm not offended,” Sidney said. “You're always a little rude, but I understand why.”

“I am not rude,” Judah stated. “I pride myself on being a gentle man.”

“Whatever,” Sidney said. “As long as Darla sees that side of you, I don't care how you are.”

Judah took a long, hard look at his one-time rival. “Diane had a difficult road to hoe. If you ask her out, you take good care of her. Which I know you will,” he said generously. “You're an okay guy, and I'd probably feel all right about you if you hadn't tried to marry my girl.”

“Darla wasn't your girl,” Sidney said, “and as I recall, at that time you had your head so far up your ass you couldn't see daylight. Darla didn't want to be unmarried and pregnant. This is a very small town, and everyone knows her and her mother, and that's why she was willing to help me out. But it had nothing to do with love or sex or anything but a bargain
between friends. You were not her friend, you were a butt-head, and she wasn't going to sit around and wait for you.”

Judah listened to Sidney's soliloquy, then shook his head. “I've been in love with that woman for years.”

Sidney's eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

Judah nodded. “Yep.”

“Does…Darla know this?”

“I don't think so,” Judah said, trying to remember if he'd ever gotten around to telling her that she'd held his heart for so long he'd sometimes thought he might not ever get it back. “Things have been moving pretty fast.”

“Yeah, well.” Sidney walked to the door. “If I had a prescription to offer you, it would be to sit down and talk to your wife instead of hiding out over here. You don't want to be in the bunkhouse, you want to be with Darla.”

Judah nodded. It was true, and the fact that he didn't want to stomp Sidney's head in for implying he wasn't handling his love life very well was a great sign. “Hey, good luck with Diane.”

Sidney smiled. “Thanks.” He disappeared out the door.

Judah got to his feet, took a deep breath and turned off the lamps.

It was time to go home. It was past time for some honesty between him and the lovely Mrs. Judah Callahan.

If he could shoo all the well-meaning friends and family out of the henhouse.