To Tame a Wild Cowboy Read online

  “You’ve got to learn to relax,” her mother said. “It was a hard lesson for me to learn too, but when raising kids, it’s better to lighten up, throw away the rule book, and just listen to your gut. And my gut is telling me that my child needs some sleep.”

  “Maybe just for fifteen minutes,” Tara said. “It’s a three-hour drive back to Cupid, and I don’t want you out on the road after dark.”

  “I wish you lived closer.” Mom shifted Julie to her shoulder. “Your sisters and I could help out more if you were home in Cupid.”

  “You know I love my job here.”

  “But you’ve got Julie to think about now, and I’m sure they’d love to have you back at Cupid General. I also heard there is an opening for an RN at the WIC clinic in Pecos. Those state jobs pay well with great benefits.”

  The Women, Infants and Children’s Services of Texas might be something she’d consider down the road when she’d had her fill of the NICU stress. But as far as Cupid General went, returning to the well-baby nursery seemed like a step backward. Besides, her time as Julie’s guardian wasn’t guaranteed to last. She couldn’t make a major life change regarding residences or jobs until she knew that the baby’s mother and father had relinquished their parental rights.

  Mom made a good point though. She didn’t have any family support in El Paso.

  “It’s something I’ll have to think about if the adoption goes through. Until then . . .” Tara lifted one shoulder. “I’ll find a way to make it work. Luckily, the hospital offers child care for employees.”

  “Still . . .” Mom clucked her tongue. “It’s not the same as family.”

  “As if you don’t already have your hands full, helping Kaia and Casey with their little ones,” she said, referring to her younger sister and her brother Archer’s wife, who both had two small children.

  “There’s always room for another baby,” Mom said, gently patting Julie’s back. “Now go crawl into bed.”

  Tara kicked off her shoes and slipped into the bedroom of the small duplex she rented, an upgrade from the efficiency apartment she’d stayed in when she first came to El Paso. She’d moved in last month in preparation for fostering Julie. The duplex was close to the hospital and a park. A grandmotherly type lived on the other side of her. It wasn’t a detached home, but it was a nice enough environment for raising a child.

  Her head hit the pillow, and she’d just shut her eyes when the doorbell rang.

  Talk about rotten timing.

  “I’ll get it, Mom,” she called, and headed for the front door.

  Through the peephole, she saw Julie’s CPS caseworker, Mariah Bean, standing on the front porch. The younger woman was fresh from her master’s degree in social work. She was a petite little thing. Barely five foot. She wore her hair, dyed flamingo pink, in a short razor cut. In a camo-colored wrap dress and incongruous purple cowgirl boots with elevated heels, she looked like a kid playing dress up, but Ms. Bean had grown up in the foster care system herself, had gone to school on the GI Bill after serving four years in the army, and fought for her young charges with dedication and verve. She was as bright and cheerful as cherry blossoms in the spring, and just looking at her made Tara feel joyful.

  But what was the CPS caseworker doing here on a Saturday afternoon without calling or texting first?

  Trying not to imagine the worst, Tara steeled her spine, forced a TV-commercial smile, and opened the door. “Ms. Bean, come in, come in,” she invited, her pulse spiky against her veins.

  “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced.” Ms. Bean shifted her oversized tote bag to the opposite shoulder. “I was at the hospital when I got the news, and since you were so close, I thought I’d drop by. Is now a good time?”

  “Now is fine.” What news? Tara barely managed to rein in her anxiety and waved the young woman into the living room. “Would you like something to drink?” What she wanted to do was grab the social worker by the shoulders, shake her solidly, and yell at her to spill it. “Coffee? Tea? Water?”

  “No thank you, I can’t stay long.”

  She introduced Ms. Bean to her mother. All three of them oohed and aahed over Julie, who was awake now and staring at them with wide-eyed curiosity.

  Finally, Ms. Bean straightened and met Tara’s gaze. The look said more than words, and Tara felt her stomach slosh into her socks.

  “What is it?” Tara cracked her knuckles.

  Ms. Bean’s blue eyes dimmed, and her smile faded. “They found Julie’s father.”

  “Oh,” Tara said, and then, because she didn’t know what else to say, repeated, “Oh.”

  “He didn’t even know Julie existed until we contacted him a few weeks ago and asked him to take the paternity test. Rhona got around, if you know what I mean.”

  Yes, yes, Tara already knew all that. What she did not know was if the father was going to try and take Julie away from her.

  “What did the dad say?” she asked.

  “His people are delivering the results to him today.”

  His people. What did that mean? Did he have a legal team at his disposal ready to spring into action? All the air left her body in one whoosh, and it was only then Tara realized she’d been holding her breath. “I see.”

  “Don’t look so distressed.” The caseworker’s voice carried a soothing tone. “This is a good thing.”

  “He wants to voluntarily terminate parental rights?” Tara asked. Her hope was a brittle sound, thin and crackly in the silence of the room. Please let him not want her, please let him not want her . . .

  “I don’t know that yet. As I said, he’s being informed at the same time you are.”

  “Where is he?” Tara had visions of some big roughneck cowboy bursting into her house and demanding custody of his baby daughter. Her knees turned to water, and she had to put a hand against the wall to keep from losing her balance.

  “Albuquerque, New Mexico.”

  Whew. Okay, he wouldn’t be busting in her door immediately.

  “But he is from Rhona’s hometown, your hometown.”

  “Julie’s father is from Cupid?” Tara whispered.

  What were the odds? Cupid was a town of less than two thousand. Then again, many women from small towns in the Trans-Pecos came to the city to have their babies. Not such ridiculous odds in that context since El Paso was the nearest NICU.

  Ms. Bean nodded, clutched her tote bag with both hands. “He is.”

  Tara could feel the woman’s gaze slide up and down her body, as if she feared Tara was about to topple over. Mom too was watching her with narrowed pupils and pursed lips. Did she look that fragile?

  Her skin felt cool and dry, but inside her blood pulsed hot and sticky. Dear Lord, did she know Julie’s father? Most everyone in Jeff Davis County knew most everyone else. Odds were very good that she did know him.

  “Who . . .” Her voice trembled. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Who is he?”

  “He’s a professional bull rider, as were all the men on our list of possibles. Rhona seems to have an affinity for rodeo cowboys,” Ms. Bean said.

  Why was the woman dragging this out? Tara squeezed her nails so hard into her palms that bites of pain shot into her wrists. In her gut she already knew the answer to her question before she repeated it. “Who is he?”

  “Do you think you might know him?”

  “Would knowing him help my chances of adopting Julie or hurt them?” Anxiety was a brick, clobbering every corner of her body.

  “That would depend.”

  “On what?”

  “If he’s reasonable or not.”

  “Who is he?” Tara’s voice was a thin wire, high and stiff. From the look on her mother’s face, Bridgette had a shrewd guess of her own. Tara knew of only one professional bull rider in Cupid.

  “His name . . .” Ms. Bean paused as if waiting for a drum roll.

  Outside, a squirrel scampered across the gutter, clanking metal against the eaves. Tara sucked in a hard br
eath.

  “. . . is Rhett Lockhart.”

  Rhett Lockhart.

  That scoundrel. She gave a little laugh, half amusement, half scoff.

  Just as Tara had suspected, Julie’s father was the most irresponsible man in Jeff Davis County. A man who’d once dated, and dumped, her youngest sister, Aria. A man with a reputation for blowing through buckle bunnies with the whirlwind blast of a hot desert sandstorm.

  What juicy local gossip.

  What controversy.

  And what luck.

  Rhett was a charming bad boy who cared about nothing but himself. No way was he going to want a kid.

  She knew Rhett through and through. The Lockharts and Alzates were forever intertwined. All nine of the kids grew up as one big family, a pack of exuberant children who doubled as a softball team for family holiday gatherings and reunions. Her father, Armand, had been the Lockharts’ ranch foreman; her mother, their housekeeper and surrogate mom.

  Her brother, Archer, was the eldest of the five Alzate siblings. He had taken over as foreman of the Silver Feather once her father retired. Archer and his wife, Casey, were now rearing their two sons in the same rambling farmhouse where the Alzate children had grown up.

  The next eldest, Ember, had married Ranger, the second-born Lockhart brother. They were currently living in southern Ontario, Canada, where Ranger worked as an astrobiologist and Ember had her own real estate company. They were expecting their first baby in June.

  Tara was the middle child, halfway between Archer and Ember on one side, Kaia and Aria on the other. She’d long considered herself the family fulcrum, the grounding balance. Her practical, logical nature drew people to her. Particularly folks in crisis.

  Kaia had married Ridge, the oldest Lockhart brother. Kaia, a veterinarian, was now a stay-at-home mom, while Ridge ran the Silver Feather.

  “Rhett Lockhart,” Tara whispered. “You old dog, you.”

  She and her mother shared triumphant glances, and Tara almost laughed out loud with relief. This was the best news ever. No way would the likes of Rhett want custody of a sickly newborn.

  She was home free.

  Chapter 3

  Muley: A term used to describe a hornless bull.

  Rhett stared down at the form on the kitchen table.

  At the top of the paper, in bold dark lettering, it read: VOLUNTARY RELINQUISHMENT OF PARENTAL RIGHTS.

  “Sign the affidavit and your troubles are over.”

  “Really?” His hopes bobbled.

  “We’ll need to get a witness and a notary, but that’s easily solvable. Clerk in the fairground’s office has a notary sign on the wall. We can just walk on over to the office.”

  Rhett bent over the form, too leery to even pick it up. He rubbed his palms down the tops of his thighs all the way to his knees, read it over. Two times. “Do I have to sign it today?”

  Lamar looked surprised. “No. I just figured you would want to. It’s why I went ahead and flew out here. That and I had some other business in Santa Fe tomorrow.”

  “What does it mean if I relinquish my parental rights?”

  “It means your daughter can be adopted out. The foster mother is eager to have her.”

  “What about the foster father?”

  “Ms. Alzate is single.”

  Alzate?

  Rhett froze. He straightened and met Lamar’s gaze. He knew of only one Alzate who was a NICU nurse. The same Alzate who’d babysat him when he was a kid. The very same Alzate who was also his sister-in-law. Twice. Her sisters Kaia and Ember had married his half brothers Ridge and Ranger.

  “Tara? She’s my daughter’s foster mother?”

  Lamar nodded, confirming.

  Oh wow. Tara made him uncomfortable because she saw through him like a windowpane. The one Alzate he’d never been able to charm. She’d always known when he was up to mischief.

  He hadn’t seen her since she’d moved to El Paso almost two years ago. Not that he’d ever really hung out with her. Just bumped into her at family functions where the Lockharts and Alzates mingled. He dredged up polite chitchat when he had to, but he’d always gotten the feeling she disapproved of him. Not that she’d ever said anything to that effect. Typically, she simply avoided him.

  Her attitude bothered him. He liked women, and for the most part, they returned the feeling and then some. Tara’s distaste for him had taken a stronger track since he’d briefly dated her youngest sister, Aria.

  Rhett and Aria were a lot alike, both fun-loving and frisky, easygoing and expressive. They’d had a ball together. They’d both gone into the relationship knowing it was nothing but a fling. He hadn’t hurt Aria. Aria hadn’t hurt him. They were cool.

  But Tara had disapproved. Throwing around her holier-than-thou frown.

  A couple of summers ago, she’d backed him into a corner of the kitchen at his brother Ridge’s house on his family’s Silver Feather Ranch. It was during a party following the christening of their niece, Ingrid. Tara had shaken a chiding finger in his face and told him in no uncertain terms to leave Aria alone. Rhett explained that Aria was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. Tara countered by threatening his private parts if he didn’t back off her sister.

  Hmm. So Tara wanted to adopt his daughter. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this.

  “Does she know the baby is mine?” he asked.

  “The caseworker is informing her today.”

  Was this a bit of good news or not? Rhett stroked his chin, unable to decide. If he signed away his parental rights and Tara adopted the baby, he’d still get to see his daughter from time to time when their two clans got together. On the surface it seemed like a win-win.

  As if reading his mind, Lamar said, “Signing away your parental rights means you will no longer have any say in how the baby is raised. Not her religious affiliations, not how she’s educated, not where she lives. Nothing. Even if Tara happens to let you see the baby once the adoption is final, you are not guaranteed that right by law.”

  Rhett rapped his fingers against the table repeatedly, feeling keyed up. He hadn’t had time to absorb all this. “What about Rhona?”

  Lamar put out a hand to stop the tapping. “The state has already moved to terminate Rhona’s rights involuntarily since she abandoned the baby. Problem is, she’s in the wind.”

  “Let me get this straight. Even if I were to sign this form right now, Tara can’t move forward with the adoption until Rhona’s parental rights have been terminated by the state.”

  “That’s right. Or Rhona could come back and voluntarily relinquish her rights, allowing Tara to adopt her,” Lamar said.

  “Conversely, she could show up and want the child back before her rights have been terminated.” Rhett toyed with the cow and bull salt and pepper shakers on the table, moving them around like chess pieces.

  “That is a possibility.”

  “What if I sign over my rights, and Rhona wants the baby back?”

  “Then, unless the judge concludes there’s a good reason why not, Rhona will get custody.”

  “And I’ll be left without a say in it.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But neither will Tara.”

  “Yes.”

  “No one knows where Rhona is?”

  “Do you have any idea?” Lamar asked.

  Rhett shook his head as vigorously as if he were trying to dislodge hay from his shaggy curls. “I hardly knew her.”

  “I get the feeling you need more time.” Lamar reached for the paper.

  Rhett held on to it. Why was he hesitating? Sign the form. Get it over and done with and get back to his life. Did it really matter whether the baby went to Tara or Rhona? He was never going to be father of the year. The kid deserved better than the likes of him. It wasn’t as if Rhett had had some great role model to pattern himself after.

  Ridge didn’t have a great model and he’s an awesome dad, the thought rose up in his mind. Yeah, well, Ridge had always been the resp
onsible type. The parenting gig for his older half brother had been like taking a duck to water.

  But Rhett? He simply didn’t have what it took to be a good dad. He wasn’t cut out for it. A guy had to honor who he was at his core, right? Yes, he could provide for the baby financially, and he would. Even if he terminated his parental rights, he’d still make sure the baby was taken good care of . . . monetarily, that was. That, he could do. But the day-to-day? C’mon, let’s be honest, he had absolutely nothing to offer.

  Perhaps if the child were a boy, he could teach him how to ride horses and tame a bull, but what did he know about tea parties and hair bows? He’d lost his mother when he was eight. He knew nothing about what was in the hearts and minds of women. To be truthful, he’d never really wanted to know.

  Women, in Rhett’s world, were pretty playthings to be savored and admired, at least until it was time to move on to the next town.

  For the first time ever, it occurred to him that the women he’d dated were someone else’s daughters. One day, his daughter would be old enough to hang around the rodeo circuit and pick herself up a cowboy.

  Yikes! Rhett yanked a palm down his face, snorted. That was a scary thought.

  “You’ve got more depth than I thought.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I figured you’d be raring to sign away those rights at the drop of a Stetson.”

  “Shouldn’t I at least see the baby first?”

  “Personally, if it were me, I would. But I’m not you.” Lamar futzed with his pocket square.

  Rhett sat back down, anchored his elbow to the table, plunked his chin in his upturned palm. Cogitated. Sign the form and he was free as a bird. Or go see the baby first and risk losing his heart.