The Cowboy's Twins (8 page)

“Success,” Marta cheered, closing the gate behind Faith, who had followed the horses in. “You've got a good one there, Faith.”

“I know.” She smiled at her friend and mentor. “I appreciate you bringing her out to me. I promise I'll take good care of her.”

Marta laughed and nodded toward Jax, who was still by Willow's side, running his hands down her neck and head. “I meant
him
.”

Heat rose to Faith's cheeks. “Oh.”

Marta's chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. She was right, though. Jax's way with horses was nothing short of extraordinary. She'd never seen anything like it. The Lord had truly guided her hand—or rather, her pocketbook—when she'd bid on Jax at the auction.

But she certainly didn't want Marta to get the wrong impression.

“Jax?” Faith tried to sound surprised. She waved offhandedly. “He—he's just helping me out today. Those are his brothers out there mending the fences.”

Marta's green eyes gleamed at her. “Is he married?”

“What? No.” And with what had just happened to the poor man on the home front, Faith doubted he'd be remotely interested in
that
particular institution in the near future.

Or ever again.

And neither, for that matter, was she.

But Marta already knew Faith's story, and Faith had no business discussing Jax's, so instead she just smiled and let Marta think whatever she wanted to.

“You've just brought me the true loves of my life,” she reminded her friend. “Willow and Pilgrim. I'm sure they're going to keep me plenty busy.”

And Jax?

She didn't know what he was. Helpful, maybe. Useful, sometimes.

But mostly, he was a complication she simply didn't need in her life. And she'd keep telling herself that until she believed it.

Chapter Four

J
ax yanked the last corner of a yellow fitted crib sheet over the mattress until it finally slipped into place. He grunted with satisfaction.

One crib down, one to go, and finally the twins would be able to graduate from the bassinet and into the cribs in their nursery. In the three weeks since they'd been dropped on his doorstep, Rose and Violet had flourished. They were already growing like nobody's business, and Jax couldn't be prouder.

From her view in a nearby bouncy chair, Rose babbled at him as if providing him with instructions, her chunky arms pumping in delight. Violet, whom Jax had quickly recognized as the quieter of the two twins, sucked on her tiny fist and stared at him with her wise brown eyes.

It was hard to believe that he ever had had trouble telling these two beautiful babies apart. Now he recognized both on sight and could tell one from the other as much by personality as by looks.

“You think so, huh?” he asked, addressing Rose. He chuckled. Look at him, talking to a newborn baby as if she could understand his words. As if he understood her replies.

In the most peculiar way, he kind of did. In the three weeks he'd had the children, he'd learned how to interpret their sounds and cries. He could differentiate between whether they were wet, needed a bottle or if their little tummies were hurting them.

Sometimes it was none of the above. Sometimes they were scared or lonely and just wanted to be held, and he was okay with that. He liked snuggle time. One cowboy and two babies didn't seem like much of a fair match, but he thought he was managing surprisingly well, all things considered, and even more surprising, enjoying every minute of it.

This was uncharted territory, after all.

Most folks had nine months to prepare for a newborn. He hadn't had a single second, which explained why he was just now completing the transition of his spare room into a nursery. His mother had decorated the place with pink frilly curtains and pink and white kittens on the wall. He drew the line at pink crib sheets and had chosen a more neutral yellow color.

A man could take only so much pink, after all.

Like Jax, Faith was treading new ground. He often thought about her out there all by herself with her horses. He still meant to find her a couple of teenage wranglers. It had been on his to-do list since day one, but he simply hadn't found time, what with taking care of the twins and all.

He'd been over to Faith's place a few times over the past weeks, not so much out of obligation as curiosity. She had officially released him from his commitment to her, so that wasn't a factor, and yet he kept finding reasons to go visit her.

Untamed Mustang Refuge, she'd named the place. She planned to advertise the moniker with a large post sign at the front of the driveway, but paying for something like that would be a long time out yet. She did have funds—she'd explained to him about all the money she'd saved over the years, looking forward to this dream—but she was spending it only on things that directly benefited the horses. Stubborn woman still refused to put any time and effort into her own house or any part of her property that wasn't specifically mustang related.

She was all about her horses. He had to give her that.

“I hope you and your sister grow up to be as tough and resilient as Faith Dugan,” he told Rose as he picked her up and offered her a bottle.

Every time he'd come by to visit her, she'd been out with the mustangs—mending fences, pitching hay and toting water from the well pump to the trough. Hard labor, especially for a woman who, for the past few years, had been able to do this kind of work only by volunteering a few hours a day on weekends. Nonstop physical work, day in and day out, was new to her. He'd noticed the blisters on her hands and the sunburn on her cheeks. But she never complained, and she never slowed down. Nothing put her off course. He wouldn't be surprised if she ate her own meals out in the meadow with her mustangs.

With his help, and the aid of Nick and Slade, who'd come out a few more times, she'd managed to mend most of the major fences around her property, although it would still be some time before she would be able to address every beam and pole on her thousand-acre spread. But she'd done enough to give the mustangs plenty of room to safely run.

Willow was already looking markedly better. Her ribs weren't showing as much, and her coat was quickly regaining its shine. Faith had mentioned something about adding to her herd soon—well, a mare and a foal hardly constituted a
herd
, but he knew what she meant.

His lips curved upward and he shook his head. He didn't know why thinking about Faith and her hobby horses made him smile. It just did.

She
did.

His phone rang, and he fished it from its holster, expecting it to be his mom or one of his brothers checking up on him. They'd all been hovering over him the past few weeks to the point where he was beginning to wonder if they all thought he was completely inept at being a father.

He glanced down at the screen, and his gaze widened.

Faith?

Why was she calling him? He'd given her his number in case she wanted to consult him about any of her ranch projects, but she'd never reached out to him.

“Hey, Faith. What's up?” he asked, shifting Rose to the crook of his elbow and propping the bottle with his chin while he used his other hand to hold his phone to his ear. Violet fussed from her chair, so he bounced it with one foot. All he needed was a stick and a plate to balance on the other foot and he'd be a regular circus act.

“Jax!”

The panic in Faith's voice brought him to instant alertness. Electricity popped through him. He must have jerked his head, because the bottle slipped from under his chin, hit the floor by his boots and rolled underneath the crib.

He grumbled something unintelligible.

“What's the matter?” He stooped and reached for the bottle. Rose screeched her discontent. Even Violet jumped into the fray, and he went from feeling as if he finally had it together with the twins to a total loss of control in half a second.

And then there was the woman on the other end of the line. Faith sniffled and swept in a shaky, audible breath. Jax's protective instinct sparked to life and swirled through his chest, lodging in his throat.

“What's wrong?” he asked again when she didn't immediately answer.

“I'm s-sorry. I can hear that you have your hands full with your babies. I just— I didn't know who else to call.”

“Faith.” He stated her name firmly and calmly. She had to get her emotions under control, or he would never be able to figure out what was going on with her. “Tell me what has you so flustered.”

“I called the vet but he's out of town.”

“A problem with one of the horses, then?”

“Yes, I—” She paused and hiccupped. “My new stallion. Fuego. I only just brought him and a couple of other horses up to the ranch over the weekend. I thought everything was going remarkably well. The herd accepted him immediately as their leader and he acknowledged them as his band. But then today—well, I'm trying to build a shelter in the front meadow so the horses have plenty of shade. There's lumber everywhere. I didn't even think about...”

Again she paused. He lowered his brows. She wasn't making any sense.

“The herd usually keeps its distance, especially when I'm working on a project. I'm not very good with a hammer and I make an awful racket. So it didn't even occur to me to worry about closing the gate to the front meadow. And then Fuego—I don't know why, I didn't provoke him, but he charged me. Straight through the pile of lumber.”

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, already buckling a still-crying Rose into her car seat and tucking her bottle into the nearby diaper bag.

Adrenaline pounded through him at the thought of Faith being injured. Wild stallions were nothing to mess around with, and Faith had no one out there to keep her safe. She loved those silly horses so much, he knew she'd put herself into the path of danger before she risked hurting one of the mustangs.

Just how bad had it gotten this time? He clung to the thought that she was well enough to call him—and that she was allowing herself to ask for help. It was a start.

He only hoped she wasn't too late in asking.

“Me? No. No. I'm fine. Don't worry about me.” She sounded confused that he'd even asked the question. “The thing is, Fuego never made it to me. His hooves got tangled up in some lumber, and he fell onto his back. He's not getting up, Jax. What if he— Oh, Jax, I—”

Jax's jaw tightened with strain. He hoped the stallion wasn't as bad off as all that, but if the injury was as serious as it sounded, this was going to be an especially rough day for Faith, who wasn't ready for the harsher realities of ranch life. Putting down an injured animal was a difficult but sometimes necessary part of living in the country.

Sometimes the best thing for the animal was the hardest for the human being involved.

Especially a woman with a heart as sweet and tender as Faith's.

He clenched his jaw. He hated to be the one who might have to introduce her to the severe side of the life she'd chosen for herself, but it couldn't be helped.

She needed him. Now more than ever.

“I'll be right over.”

“Thank you.”

“And Faith?”

“Yes?”

“Please don't do anything until I get there. Do you understand? Stay right where you are and don't move.” Pictures of Faith being taken down by a terrified, injured stallion flashed across his mind.

“Yes, Jax. I will. Just please. Hurry.”

She didn't have to tell him twice. He couldn't get to Faith's ranch fast enough. His mother was out shopping in San Antonio, and there was no time to call in his brothers, so he was on his own with the twins. He strapped Violet into her car seat, then jogged around the house frantically grabbing whatever baby items he thought might be necessary and jamming them in the diaper bag. He slipped the strap over his head and onto one shoulder and grabbed both car seats, one in each hand.

It took him longer than he would have liked to figure out how the car seats snapped into the base. He really should have paid more attention when his mother was showing him how it was done, but until now she'd always been there to help him.

Once on the road, he forced himself to drive the speed limit for the twins' sake, but his heart was thumping heavily in his chest like the beat of a clock. The stallion's condition might be worsening with every second that went by—and that was to say nothing about Faith's safety.

She'd promised him she'd wait for him to get there, but he knew it couldn't be easy for her, standing around and doing nothing while one of her beloved horses suffered.

He was afraid the worst part was yet to come.

* * *

Faith breathed a huge sigh of relief when Jax strode up, a car seat in each hand and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder. She'd never been happier to see someone in her entire life. To think he'd dropped everything and rushed over with two babies in tow. Gratitude welled in her chest, mixing with the anxiety already lurking there.

She felt horribly guilty that she'd had to interrupt his day with his children, but she hadn't been joking when she'd said she knew of no one else to call. It was the first time she'd truly felt alone on her ranch.

And worse than that—
helpless
.

She'd almost had a heart attack when Fuego had gone down, and the sound he made— She hoped she'd never have to hear anything like that ever again.

He'd rolled from side to side a couple of times, snorting and flailing his legs, but in the end he hadn't stood up. He'd shaken and shivered and whinnied in distress but had not regained his footing.

Faith feared for the worst.

What if Fuego's leg couldn't be mended, even with surgery? She'd have to put the beautiful silver stallion down, and it would break her heart. Nothing she'd ever experienced on a ranch could have prepared her for a situation like this.

Jax would know how to proceed. He would be able to determine if the stallion could be saved. She trusted him to do what was best.

Big, strong, solid, dependable Jax.

He hesitated, glancing down at his daughters, fast asleep in their seats. “Can you watch these two sweethearts while I—” He gestured to the half-built shelter. “I'd rather keep them safely away from the drama, if you don't mind.”

When she nodded, he placed the car seats in the shade next to the barn and strode toward Fuego, a frown creasing his brow. He stood silently for a few moments, his hands on his hips, evaluating the stallion.

She didn't know what she expected—for Jax to run straight for the horse and help the stallion regain his feet on sheer strength alone? Was that even possible?

Jax was a large man, but even he didn't have enough muscles to lift a thousand-pound animal, especially a frightened one that would be thrashing and aggressive. She thought maybe he might examine Fuego's legs with his hands to try to determine if there was any serious damage, but if he got that close, then he'd run the risk of getting kicked by those vicious hooves.

He didn't try to right the horse, nor did he check Fuego's legs for wounds. Instead, he slowly and steadily walked around the lumber pile, occasionally pushing a beam aside with his boot. He assessed the situation without approaching the wild-eyed animal. He spoke to the horse in the rich, lyrical tone Faith now thought of as his horse-whisperer voice, although she knew he would pitch a fit if she ever said such a thing out loud. But that was what it was. It reassured and calmed even the most frightened or spooked of horses.

Even with Jax there, Faith wasn't convinced all would be well with Fuego, but her heart responded peculiarly to the tenor of his voice. It had the same effect on her as it had on the horse. Calming. Hypnotic. Lulling her pulse to a gentler, steadier rhythm.