*“You did what?”
Jethro touched the side of his mouth where the bruising felt the worst and swiped his tongue around the inside of his cheek, testing the spot where the skin was broken. Still he counted himself lucky his teeth were all intact even if the familiar coppery taste of blood still bloomed in his mouth. “I held her hand when she gave birth.”
He cracked his jaw before scowling at his brothers across the table. “What the heck was I supposed to do? Her husband wasn’t there, and the assistant she has working for her didn’t do so well under pressure. Anyone would think she’d never seen blood before, the way she carried on.” His brothers looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had, but Layla Cox, now Watson, had been nothing but kind to him since their grandfather had passed away. “Someone had to step up. Besides, she wasn’t letting me get away. Had a grip on me like a rattlesnake on a gopher. Wasn’t getting out of that hospital room without cutting off my arm, and I’m kind of partial to it.”
“Damned if you ain’t lucky he didn’t knock you into next week, then. Seeing as how you saw his wife in her… you know what I mean.” Crease dropped his gaze. The youngest of the boys, he still managed to act like the blushing virgin he probably still was. Talk was cheap, but so was Crease. He didn’t have a dime to rub together. None of them did.
Now that Jethro was away from the hospital, the noise, and rush of the delivery suite, his sense of calm returned. He forgot about how nervous he’d been when Layla went into labor and her new assistant went to pieces. Of course he stepped up. He liked Layla, even though they’d gotten off on the wrong foot initially. From the day Grandpa had changed his will and Jethro had tried to confront her about it, she’d never been anything but honest with him.
She’d been there for him when Grandpa died and helped him deal with the financial side of things when his brothers didn’t want to know, wracked by grief and fear for their unknown future. After all the guidance she’d given him, the last thing he wanted to do was let her down when she needed him the most. Even if that meant getting on the wrong side of her husband again. He’d already felt the power of Tyson Watson’s fist against his jaw too many times to count. Feeling it when he was helping out wasn’t exactly fun.
“Not much different than a foal coming into the world. Didn’t come feet first though.” The screaming, red-faced infant that Layla cradled in her arms didn’t resemble anyone as far as he could tell, had shocked him at first. It’d been born red and wrinkled, its fists and legs wavering as it wailed its displeasure at the bright lights and unexpected entrance into the world.
But once Layla held her child wrapped and clean and thanked Jethro profusely for holding her hand, he had to admit, it wasn’t all that bad. Her son did look a little better when he was tidied up even if he did start to look like his father. “Wasn’t nowhere as cute as a foal neither.”
“Tell us about the girl you had to save.” Nate stared at him over his bottle of beer.
“Miss Sadie St. Martin.” A thrill zipped through Jethro’s body.
Fancy and unattainable he’d have said of her. Petite and prettier than a wildflower in bloom, looking lost in a pasture of dry grass. He had her figured for the calm, collected type to begin with. At least that was the way she’d come across when they’d been introduced. Cool and professional and put together just so. How wrong he’d been.
Jethro picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Quiet type, I guess. At least that’s the way she comes across. Used to work with Layla in Denver before she moved here.”
“Just what we need. Another fancy city lawyer trying to tell us what to do.” Nate slapped his hand on the table. “Don’t understand why Grandpa did it to us. We didn’t need him leaving our future in some slick lawyer’s hands.”
Jethro sighed. No matter how many times he went over it with his brothers, that was not what the old man had done. At first Jethro, too, was annoyed with their grandpa for changing his will. But once he and the old man sat down and talked about it, Jethro saw things differently.
“I know you’re a good man inside, Jethro.” It was the first man-to-man conversation they’d had. “You had a rough start in life, I understand that. Maybe I wasn’t the best person to help your mama bring you boys up, but I was all she had.”
“You did your best, Grandpa. We didn’t really give you much of a chance, did we?” When he remembered back to how rude and unruly he and his brothers had been to their grandfather, embarrassment washed over him. The first time he’d taken the young boys to a cattle auction, they’d run through the calves, scattering the already nervous animals until someone had caught them and dragged them out by their shirt collars.
Or the time he’d had to return them to school for the second time in one week. The teacher had been ready to suspend them, but Grandpa had promised he’d keep a tighter rein on them in future. And what a struggle they’d put up. The boys had fought him every step of the way, but still he didn’t give up on them like he should’ve done.
And the drug charge they’d tried to hide from Grandpa. That’d been the hardest thing to face up to, the event that almost broke the old man.
“No, you didn’t, but now’s your chance to make up for it. If you’re man enough, that is.”
It was a challenge Jethro couldn’t refuse. Layla had helped him understand how ill his grandfather was and what he could do to help redeem himself. The ranch was falling apart around their ears, and if Jethro didn’t step up and take control, what they had wouldn’t be worth having.
Trying to convince his brothers they had it all wrong was an uphill battle he couldn’t seem to win. “He didn’t leave it in her hands. He asked her to keep an eye on us. Give us advice when we needed it. Help us back on the right track to make the place pay and give us a long-term home, a decent future. Don’t matter how many times I tell you two, it doesn’t seem to sink into those thick skulls of yours.”
Crease threw him a dirty look and picked up his beer. “Don’t need no city slicker giving us advice. What the heck do they know about raising cattle and mending fences? Bet the closest she ever came to getting her hands dirty was potting her houseplants.”
“That wasn’t what Grandpa meant and you damn well know it. Financial advice, for one. There’s hardly any money left in the bank, and Layla’s a whiz with planning, squeezing the last penny out of a deal, and so is Ms. St. Martin, apparently. Layla showed me how to get a better deal on the fencing wire so now I can afford to fix the barn with the money I saved. If you two would bother to get your heads out of your butts, you’d see how good she is to us. Doesn’t have to be, you know. Financial advice isn’t something most lawyers do, so I’m counting myself lucky she cares enough to give it.”
Nate, the middle of the three brothers, leaned on his elbows and grinned. “You know what you sound like? Sounds like you got the hots for that little lady. Hell, sounds like you’re falling in love with both of them, to me.”
Jethro launched himself over the table and grabbed Nate by the shirt pulling him out of his chair. “Just you watch your mouth, you hear me?”
“Hey, Jethro Hansen. Don’t start none of that fighting business in here or I’ll have to ask you to take your business elsewhere.” The Graff Hotel bar went silent as the locals waited for the fight between the brothers to erupt.
Jethro pushed Nate back into his seat. “Nothing to worry about here, Mr. Sheenan. Me and Nate are just mucking around.”
The owner walked over to their table and glared down at him. “Like you were just mucking around with someone to get that bloody nose then?” He shook his head. “You boys’ll never change.”
His reputation had never bothered Jethro before, but now that he was responsible for managing the ranch, keeping his grandpa’s legacy alive, his focus had shifted, and he wanted to be seen as more than a mannerless, uncouth person who never gave a damn about anyone but himself. “I wasn’t in a fight. It’s not what you think.”
“Sure.” Troy Sheenan leaned down on the table and eyed the bruise along his jaw. “You boys don’t know any other way of getting what you want unless it’s with your fists.”
“Honestly, Troy, it wasn’t his fault.” Nate butted in, keen to tell the story. “Jethro was holding that lawyer’s hand at the hospital and that’s how Tyson thanks him. Guy needs an attitude shift, if you know what I mean.” He snorted. “Don’t know why we always get the blame.”
“Tyson hit you?”
“Yeah.” Jethro hated the look of dismissal in the hotel owner’s eyes.
“I don’t understand why he’d hit you if you were helping her out. Did you forget your manners or something?”
“No. I held her hand while she birthed their baby. Tyson didn’t make it in time, and she wouldn’t let me go.” The heat raced up his cheeks. He wasn’t used to helping anyone out or for talking about it.
Troy laughed. “Well, well. Fancy that. And Tyson didn’t appreciate you getting up close and personal with his wife, then?”
“That’s about it.”
“Well, I guess when he settles down and hears the full story, he’ll change his opinion about you. Good job, Jethro!” He leaned across the other boys and shook Jethro’s hand. “Let me send you a beer.”
Jethro picked up his hat and jammed it on his head. “Thanks, but I have work to do. Only stopped by to tell these fools what was going on.”
“Who you calling fools?” Crease took a swipe at his eldest brother.
Jethro avoided the fist. “You two. Time you got off your asses and took some responsibility for the ranch. It’s all we got and it’s going to ruin.”
“Why should we? You don’t pay us nothing to help out. Not since that damned lawyer told you there’s only enough money for one wage.”
“Still give you a roof over your head, don’t I? Food in your belly. That’s gotta mean something to you.” Jethro rubbed his hand over his jaw, testing out the sore spot. “If I don’t pay the mortgage, bank’s going to take the ranch, and I won’t do that to Grandpa’s memory. He left us this place, and there’s no way I’m letting it go.”
Troy shook his head. “You boys don’t know how lucky you are. At least your grandpa left you the ranch. If it’d been me, I’d have sold it and enjoyed the last years of my life. All you three did was give him hell from the moment he took you in.” He wiped the table, took the empty bottles and strode back to the bar, giving them one last parting shot. “Least your brother’s stepping up. Better late than never.”
“Damn busybody.” Crease growled at the bar owner. “If he’s not kicking us out for fighting, he’s telling us what to do.”
*
“How is she? How’s the baby?” Emily pushed herself out of her chair when Sadie stumbled back into the law office later that afternoon. “I can’t believe I chose today to get my hair done on my lunch break. You should’ve called me.”
Sadie tottered over to the chair and fell in a heap. What a day! “Good. They’re both fine.” She wiped a trembling hand across her cheeks.
“The way you’re looking so pale, I thought something had gone wrong.” Emily fanned herself and sat back down. “Had me worried there for a second, Sadie. Don’t go doing that; this old heart might not be able to take it.”
Sadie stared at her. “Something did go wrong. She went into labor while you were out. It’s my heart that can’t cope.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Images she’d rather not see again ran through her head. “A word of warning might’ve been nice. If she’d told you she was having pains before you left, you could’ve helped her instead of leaving it to me. I’m not cut out for that kind of excitement.”
“Phish, please. A woman gave birth. Nothing wrong with that, and to think you were lucky enough to witness such a miracle.”
“I didn’t want to witness it, but Layla gave me no choice. She demanded I go into the delivery room.” Thank goodness for Jethro Hansen. Luckily, her boss was too busy to see just how useless she’d been. All credit to the rugged cowboy for taking over and not saying how badly she’d behaved. So embarrassing, and the way this small town worked, everyone would know about it before supper.
“I’m sure you did a fine job. Hard worker like you wouldn’t let Layla down, no matter how much you think you did. Most organized, methodical person I’ve ever met. Let me make you a cup of coffee to settle your nerves.” Emily got up, patted Sadie on the hand, and headed to the small kitchen behind the reception area. When she came back, Sadie was in exactly the same place. She’d barely moved a finger.
“Tyson’s going to be thrilled to bits to finally meet his son. Did he make it in time?”
“Oh, no. Not quite.”
“What on earth are you talking about? Did he get there or not?”
Emily handed over a mug of coffee and Sadie gulped down a couple of mouthfuls before answering, trying to get her heart to slow down. “Not until they were getting her, ah, more presentable, shall we say, and we were leaving.”
Emily raised an eyebrow.
“Okay. Jethro was the one who did most of the birthing work with Layla. I, um, I actually, well, almost passed out and was pretty much useless most of the time.” Oh, the mortification.
Emily’s lips twitched.
“Tyson, I mean Mr. Watson, came in, and when he found out Jethro had been in the room so close to Layla, he punched him.” Sadie wiped a hand over her brow. It’d been a terrible day so far in more ways than one. “You should’ve seen the blood. Not Layla’s, I mean on Jethro. His nose was a mess, and he was spitting blood. Honestly, I was waiting for him to pop out a couple of teeth, there was so much mess.” At least that was what it looked like to her. “He didn’t fight back, just cleaned himself up and walked out.”
The older woman’s mouth dropped open, her glasses slipped down her nose, and she couldn’t splutter out a word. And that was saying something.
“Yep. For all his heroics, stepping up and helping Layla, all he got for his troubles besides the nail gouges in his hands from her was a punch in the face.” Sadie shook her head. “I owe him. Jethro, I mean. That’s all I can say, Emily. I owe him for stepping up when I had a moment.” The guilt would weigh on her shoulders for days, if not weeks. She was capable of almost anything, but her parents would be mortified that the fearless daughter they’d raised had fallen in a heap when it counted. How was she going to explain that one to Layla when she couldn’t explain it to herself?