The Cowboy's Quintuplet Surprise - A Western Romance Page 3

  “He’s a good dog,” he said, feeling a bit ineffectual.

  Susie smiled. “I know he is,” she said. “I can tell. What do I need to sign?”

  Sam reached over to the counter and grabbed the folder in which he had been keeping the adoption papers he had printed off. He pulled one out and drew marks next to a few lines so Susie would see where her signature was needed, then handed it over to her.

  She took the paper and began to read it. Sam looked out the window, watching the puppies at play, and sipped his coffee.

  “Do you have a pen?” Susie asked.

  Sam pulled one from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. She signed on the lines he had marked and pushed the paperwork back across the table to him. Then she reached into her pocket, took out a check, and began to fill it out.

  “Are you sure you want to pay full price for the dog?” Sam said. “Anyone else would give me less for him. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “I know it’s a silly thing,” Susie said. “It’s not as if Tater Tot will ever know what I paid for him. But I just wouldn’t feel right if I treated him as if he was worth less than his brothers and sisters. That’s not how I want to start my relationship with my dog, even if I’m the only one it would ever make a difference to.”

  Sam nodded. “I get it,” he said. “It’s symbolic. As long as you’re sure, I’m happy to accept the going rate.”

  “I’m sure.” She finished writing the check and handed it to him.

  “All right,” he said. “Tater Tot is all yours.”

  She grinned. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I own a dog. That’s wild.”

  “Do you have to get back on the road right away?” Sam asked, surprising himself. When the last potential buyers had come to see the dogs, he had been all too eager to speed them on their way once their business was done. But for some reason, he didn’t feel in any hurry to get rid of Susie.

  “I don’t have to,” she said, cocking her head. He could see that she was curious.

  “I just thought, since you had such a long drive, that you might want to stay for a while and relax before you head back,” he said. “I was going to heat up some leftover apple pie, if you’d like some.”

  Her face lit up. “I love apple pie,” she said. “That sounds amazing.”

  He nodded, went to the fridge, and took out the pie. With her help, he could probably finish it today, he thought. It was always a gamble making pies, given that he lived alone. He was never sure whether he would be able to finish eating them.

  He cut two hearty slices and put the first in the microwave to heat up. While he waited, he turned back to Susie.

  “So,” he said. “You’re a cheerleading coach?”

  She nodded. “My squad is the best in the state,” she said proudly.

  “College?”

  “No, high school. West Wichita High.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” he said. “The school, I mean, not the cheerleading squad.”

  “I figured.” She grinned.

  “How long have you been doing that?”

  “I started as an assistant coach about ten years ago. I became the head coach three years ago. It’s a lot of fun. I really like working with the kids.”

  He nodded. “I can understand that,” he said.

  “You can? Do you work with kids?”

  “No, I work with animals,” he said. “I’m a ranch hand. In addition to breeding pups on the side, of course.”

  “Right,” she said. Then she frowned. “Are you saying working with animals is like working with kids?”

  “Well, not exactly.” He laughed. “But I remember being a teenager. I wasn’t completely unlike an animal at that age.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said. “They’re so unpredictable, and yet so entirely predictable. They do the strangest things, and yet once they’ve done them, you wonder why you didn’t see it coming.”

  “What kinds of things do they do?” Sam asked.

  She gave it a moment’s thought. “Well, in addition to coaching, I run study hall during the school day,” she said. “All the coaches have to do something like that—study hall, detention, teach an elective, cafeteria duty.”

  “Sure,” Sam said. He remembered a similar situation from his own high school days—his football coach had done double-duty as a remedial math teacher.

  “Well, the other day in study hall, I heard a commotion at the back of the room,” Susie said. “It’s not unusual for the kids to get a little rambunctious, especially toward the end of the day, which this was. I usually let it go. But it was starting to get a little out of control, so I went back to check on things.”

  “What was going on?” Sam asked.

  “A couple of boys were having a contest to see who could eat the most crackers in a minute without taking a drink to help wash them down,” Susie said, rolling her eyes at the memory. “You can imagine the mess. They were laughing like hyenas, spraying crumbs everywhere. The girl sitting in front of them looked like she was about to start crying, she was so annoyed. Some of the kids around them were egging them on, trying to get them to finish the contest. And even when I found them, one of them had the nerve to hold up a finger as a signal that I should wait for him to finish what he was doing.”

  Sam burst out laughing. “That sounds like teenage boys,” he agreed. “What did you do with them?”

  “I sent them to detention,” she said. “Then I reminded the rest of the group that in-school study hall was for people who wanted to study, and if they didn’t want to spend the time studying, they either needed to sign up for an elective or else go ahead and go down to detention.”

  “I bet they behaved themselves after that,” Sam said.

  “They did,” Susie said. “For the rest of the day, at least. It’s like they forget everything at the end of every day and we have to start all over the next.”

  “Well, that’s exactly like an animal,” Sam said, grinning. “You’ll be good at training Tater Tot, if that’s the kind of thing you’re used to.”

  “Are the puppies’ parents around?” Susie asked. “Can I meet them?”

  “I don’t own the father,” Sam said. “He belongs to a woman about an hour from here. She, you know… sells his services.”

  “I see,” Susie said.

  “But the mother’s here,” Sam said. “Her name is Abby. Abby! Come here, girl.”

  Sam heard the telltale click of nails on the hardwood floor that meant Abby was making her way toward him. A moment later, she came around the corner. She trotted up to his side and presented her head to be patted.

  “Well, aren’t you pretty,” Susie said, reaching out to rub Abby’s ears. “What a sweet girl.”

  “This is her second litter,” Sam said. “She’s probably good for one or two more before she’ll have to retire.” He patted Abby affectionately.

  “What will you do then?” Susie asked. “Stop breeding?”

  “No,” Sam said. “I’ll keep one of the puppies from her next litter, probably, and raise that one up to be my new dog.”

  “It must be nice,” Susie said. “Always having puppies around. I know I’ll love Tater Tot just as much when he’s fully grown, of course, but I’ll miss the puppy days. I think I would enjoy breeding puppies, always having little ones either here or on their way.”

  Sam nodded. “It is nice,” he said. “Especially living out in the middle of nowhere the way I do. I’m not especially prone to loneliness, but having a big litter of puppies does make the house seem a lot fuller than it does when we don’t have pups around. Right, Abs?”

  He wondered whether Susie thought it was weird that he had addressed the question to his dog. Working on a ranch had gotten him in the habit of conversing with animals. But normal people probably didn’t do that.

  Then he wondered why he cared if Susie thought his behavior was weird. After all, she was going to go home in a little while, and the two of them would never see each other again. What difference did it make if she thought he was a little crazy?

  He didn’t know. But for some reason, it did seem to matter. For some reason, he felt a desire to make a good impression on her.

  He took her pie out of the microwave and handed her the plate. He was just about to put his own plate in when the air was pierced by the scream of a siren.

  Susie clapped her hands over her ears and stared at him in alarm. “Is that a tornado warning?” she yelled.

  He could barely hear her. He nodded. “The cellar!” he said, pointing to the ground below his feet and hoping that she would understand. He beckoned. “Come on!”

  He hurried outside, vaguely aware that she was following him. The cellar door was by the side of the house, set into the ground and locked shut with a crossbeam.

  He removed the crossbeam, yanked open the doors, and gestured to Susie. “Get in!”

  “What about you?” she said.

  “I have to get the dogs!”

  “I’m coming with you!”

  He started to argue, to tell her that she shouldn’t, but she was already running toward the fenced area where he had been keeping the puppies. Cursing under his breath, Sam followed.

  Susie bent over the fence and scooped up Tater Tot and two other puppies. She hurried back toward the cellar, holding them all tightly against her chest.

  “Stay down there with them,” Sam said as he passed her. “Make sure they don’t get out. I’ll bring you the rest.”

  She nodded, and he was relieved to see that she understood the wisdom of what he was saying. Someone had to make sure the dogs stayed in the cellar, that they didn’t try to climb out.

  It took three runs back and forth to the pen to collect all the puppies. Susie waited at the top of the stairs to the cellar to collect them from him each time he came back.

  “That’s the last of them,” he said on his final trip. “I just have to go get Abby.”

  “Hurry,” Susie urged. “I can already feel the wind picking up.”

  He nodded and ran back toward the house. He could hear Abby barking from inside, and the moment he opened the door, she sprinted out.

  “Abby, cellar!” he yelled.

  It hadn’t been necessary. She seemed to sense that her puppies had been moved, and she made a beeline for the open cellar door. She galloped down the steps and into the darkness.

  “All good down there?” Sam yelled.

  “I’ve got them all,” Susie confirmed.

  Sam descended the stairs, pulling the doors closed behind him, and bolted them closed. “All right,” he said. “We'll be safe in here until this passes.”

  “Do you think it’s serious?” Susie asked. She sounded a little nervous.

  “I’m not worried,” Sam said, even though he was a little. Tornadoes were common in southwestern Kansas, and he had never lost anything or seen any property damage, but it had been awfully windy up there before the door had closed. Even now, it sounded as if the air was screaming.

  “We’ll wait it out,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even. “We’ll be fine here in the cellar."

  Chapter 4

  Sam

  The cellar was pitch dark, even though it was filled with sound—the howling wind, Susie’s anxious breathing, the puppies’ claws scrabbling away at the concrete floor.

  There was a lantern on a shelf somewhere nearby, Sam knew. He felt along the wall, trying to find where he had left it. It was impossible to navigate by sight, but he knew the layout of the cellar pretty well, and it wasn’t that big.

  Then, without warning, there was a warm body up against his, hot breath on his neck.

  “What are you doing?” Susie’s voice asked.

  “I’m looking for a lantern,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  She didn’t move for a minute, and suddenly Sam wondered what she was doing. It was difficult to move down here, but how hard would it have been to step out of the way when she’d felt him drawing close to her?

  Unless she had believed he was doing it on purpose?

  What did she think? That I was going to take advantage of the tornado warning to make a pass at her?

  The idea was preposterous, and yet she still hadn’t moved.

  Then again… neither had he.

  He stepped back, wondering what he was thinking. He hardly knew this woman. She was trapped in the cellar with him until the tornado passed. This was hardly the time for romantic overtures.

  But it was strange to realize just how badly he had wanted to kiss her for a moment.

  He felt along the shelf and quickly found the lantern. It was battery operated, and he flicked the switch and was rewarded with a flood of light.

  He turned to see Susie still standing in front of the shelf where he’d left her. It looked as if she still hadn’t moved a muscle.

  God. She must have really thought I was going to kiss her.

  Maybe I should have.

  He shook away that thought, knowing it would have been ungentlemanly to kiss a woman when she didn’t have the option to leave if she was uncomfortable, and turned to check on Abby and her puppies. A quick headcount confirmed that they were all present and accounted for, and that they all seemed content enough.

  “Looks like we’re going to be here for a while,” he said to Susie. “We might as well sit down.”

  She looked around. “Sit where?”

  He grabbed a couple of large buckets, turned one over, and sat on it. He handed her the other bucket and she followed suit.

  “So this is where you go in tornadoes?” she asked him.

  He shrugged. “The house doesn’t have a basement,” he said. “I built it myself a few years back, and adding a basement was more work than I wanted to deal with. But I needed some kind of emergency shelter for storms. I mean, it is Kansas.”

  “You built that house yourself?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting. “That’s pretty impressive.”

  “My father taught me how to build houses,” Sam explained. “Actually, he taught me how to build stables for horses, but the principles are the same. I didn’t do the plumbing or the electrical myself. I had to hire the professionals for that. But I put up the frame and did the roofing myself.”

  “That’s awesome,” she said. “Are you close with your father?”

  “I was,” he said. “I lost my parents a few years back.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, looking stricken—or perhaps it was just the way the light from the lantern was hitting her face.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve learned to live with it.”

  He was surprised he had been so frank with her about it. They had only met about an hour ago. How, in that time, had he gotten comfortable enough to talk about the loss of his parents?

  She seemed to sense that he didn’t want to get into the topic, because she steered them in another direction. “It’s different in Wichita,” she said. “When tornadoes hit, I mean.”

  “I guess you have basements.”

  “Well, I don’t,” she said. “I live in an apartment. But the laundry room in my building is in the basement, and it doesn’t have any windows, so I usually wait out storms there with the other people in my building.”

  “Are you friends with them?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she said. “I mean, they’re all right, but I don’t know them well. We usually just sit quietly until the storm passes. But we probably don’t get as many tornadoes in the city as you get out here.”

  “That’s probably true,” he said.

  They sat quietly for a few minutes. She seemed nervous, her hands fidgeting in her lap and her eyes darting around the room. He couldn’t tell whether the storm was scaring her, or if she was just uncomfortable with the silence.

  “Does your whole family live in Wichita?” he asked, hoping to help put her at ease.

  She nodded. “All of them,” she said. “We grew up in Wichita, and nobody ever left. I think if anyone ever was going to leave, it would be my sister Rachel. She’s the oldest.”

  “She doesn’t like Wichita?”

  “I don’t think Kansas excites her,” Susie said. “Her kids are grown up now, and she and her husband John love to travel. I could see them moving to Europe or something. But I also think they kind of don’t care where they live. Home for them is just the place they go between vacations.”

  “I know people like that,” Sam said. “Personally, though, I don’t think I could live that way.”

  “Neither could I,” Susie agreed. “I’m much more of a homebody. Even though it would be easier for me to travel than it would be for just about anyone else in my family, I prefer staying at home.” She cast him a suspicious look. “Are you trying to find out if I’m fit to raise a puppy again?”

  “No,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “We’ve already done the paperwork. Tater Tot is yours.”

  She reached down, and Sam realized that he was on the floor beside her feet. She scooped him into her lap and gave him a little cuddle.

  “We never had a dog growing up,” she said. “With six kids, there was always someone clamoring for a pet. Sometimes it was me. But my parents always said the house was hectic enough without adding animals to it.”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “I think having animals around can be helpful to a big family.”

  “Did your family have animals?” she asked.

  “We always had dogs, and we worked on ranches,” he said. “I started working as a ranch hand when I was fifteen. But we weren’t a big family. It was just me and Mom and Dad.”

  He saw the flash of understanding that crossed her face as she realized what that meant—that he was on his own now, that he had been since his parents had died. But she didn’t say anything about it, and Sam was glad. Even though he had opened up to her a little, he wasn’t ready to bare all his feelings.

  “Anyway,” he said, “having dogs was good for me, I think. It taught me about responsibility and caring for others. But maybe those are lessons you get from having siblings too. I wouldn’t know.”