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Exhaling, Peggy shoved a tangle of hair from her eyes and tried to grasp what she’d learned. Or more important, what it all meant. She’d seen Randi Howell a few times, usually at city hall when she and her fiancé, Hal, had dropped in on the mayor. As Peggy recalled, Randi was stunning in an outdoorsy kind of way, with dark blue eyes and a wild mane of curly black hair that seemed ready to explode from the braids she favored.
Peggy had thought her rather shy, because she rarely spoke unless spoken to, and avoided eye contact. It seemed odd that a meek, apparently pliable young woman would be drawn to a man of such opposing temperament. Certainly no one had ever accused Hal Stuart of being timid. Brash, yes. Perhaps even controlling. But never timid.
As much as Peggy liked Hal’s mother, Olivia, she’d never much cared for the mayor’s ambitious offspring. There was something, well, furtive about him. Shifty.
And, of course, to Peggy’s way of thinking, Hal Stuart had one other fatal flaw. He was male.
Peggy didn’t exactly dislike men; she simply didn’t trust them, and with good reason. Still, there were exceptions. A certain heroic, cab-driving cowboy came to mind—”Poor Hal,” Marsha murmured again. “He’s devastated, positively devastated.”
Pushing away a niggle of guilt at having thought ill of a man who was clearly troubled, Peggy managed an empathetic smile. “It’s a shame the wedding didn’t go as planned, but I’m sure Randi will turn up soon, they’ll talk things out and everything will be just fine.”
Marsha waved that away as irrelevant. “Randi Howell is no loss to a man like Hal Stuart. He was too good for her to begin with. But he and Olivia were so close—” She sobbed into the tissue, perplexing Peggy even more.
“I don’t understand. What has Olivia got to do with the wedding?”
The woman’s shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. “No one knew,” she blubbered, nearly incoherent now. “She seemed so vibrant, so strong. No one knew her heart was weak.”
A chill skittered down Peggy’s spine. “Has something happened to the mayor?”
Marsha shuddered, sniffed, clutched Peggy’s hand. “Oh, my dear, her assistant found her on the kitchen floor shortly after the lights went out.”
“A heart attack?” When the woman nodded miserably, Peggy clutched the bedclothes. Olivia Stuart was a brusque woman, but a kind one. She’d gone out of her way to help Peggy through one of the most traumatic times of her life. Peggy adored her. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “Not Olivia.”
Snatching another tissue, Marsha blew her nose again, then fixed Peggy with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m so sorry, dear. I know you were close.”
“People recover from heart attacks all the time. I know it’s serious, but she’ll be all right, won’t she? She has to be all right.”
Marsha gazed back toward the spot where Hal Stuart had been standing. He was gone. She closed her eyes a moment, then faced Peggy. “No, dear, she won’t be all right. Olivia is dead.”
* * *
It was late afternoon before Peggy was moved up to the maternity ward. As promised, the twins were brought to her, whereupon she promptly unwrapped them again to study every appendage on their pink, healthy little bodies. Satisfied and brimming with maternal love, she dressed them carefully, then cuddled her beloved infants until the floor nurse insisted she needed rest and whisked them back to the nursery.
An hour later Peggy was awake, restless. She couldn’t sleep because her stitches hurt and her mind was awash with conflicting emotions—love for her beautiful new babies, mingled with terror at the responsibility of raising them alone, and profound grief at the death of a woman who’d been her friend.
Life was so fragile, so precious.
An image flashed through her mind, a fleeting memory of glowing brown eyes, a tender kiss brushed across her newborn daughter’s brow. The stranger had saved her baby’s life, and she couldn’t even recall if she’d thanked him.
At that moment, her memory of the man became so crisp, so clear, that she could literally see him standing there, hat in his hands, eyes shifting with shy, western charm that was oddly endearing. She smiled at the apparition.
It spoke to her. “I, ah, didn’t mean to disturb you, ma’am.”
She blinked, frowned. “It’s you.”
Looking perplexed, he aimed a quick glance over his shoulder, then eyed Peggy warily. “Yes’m, I guess it is.”
She pushed herself up and wiped a tangle of hair from her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Startled and a bit crestfallen, he backed toward the open door. “I just wanted to, uh, see how you were doing. I’ll be going now—”
“No!” She bolted upright, whipping back the covers as if preparing to chase after him. He froze, his eyes huge. “I’m glad you’re here,” Peggy said, wondering where that peculiar bubbly voice had come from. “I really wanted to see you again.”
That seemed to unnerve him. “You did?”
“Of course. I wanted to thank you.”
“No need, ma’am.”
“You saved my children’s lives, and probably mine, as well. I’d say that deserves at least a modicum of gratitude.” She cocked her head, amused by his obvious discomfort. “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to say, ‘Aw, shucks, ma’am, it weren’t nothing’?”
He widened his eyes, then narrowed them, but a smile played around the corner of his mouth. “You poking fun at me?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On your promise never to reveal to a living soul anything I did or said in the back of that cab.”
His grin broke free. “Such things are a private matter.”
“You’re a good man, Mr.—” She cocked a brow in question.
“Stockwell, ma’am. Travis John Stockwell.” He stepped forward, extending his hand.
Peggy took it, feeling the abrasion of calluses against her palm. This was a man who did more than drive cabs, she realized. These were work-worn hands, with strong fingers toughened by years of hard labor. Clyde’s hands had been soft.
Clyde had been soft.
“Ma’am?”
“Hmm?” Blinking up, Peggy realized that she still had a grip on the cowboy’s hand and was studying his softly haired knuckles as if they contained universal secrets. She released him reluctantly. “Well, Mr. Stockwell—”
“Call me Travis.” His dark eyes twinkled with good humor. “All things considered, I think we’d best be on a first-name basis.”
She felt herself blush, but couldn’t keep from smiling. “In that case, I’m glad to meet you, Travis. I’m Peggy Saxon.”
“Peggy.” The name slid off his tongue sweetly, with a soft twang that made it sound almost exotic. “That’s real pretty.” He regarded her intensely for a moment, then glanced around the room. “So, the babies are doing okay?”
“They’re wonderful, pink and healthy and full of vigor.” To her horror, a sudden gush of tears stung her eyes. “The doctor said that my daughter probably wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t cleared her airway so quickly. I’m so grateful—” She bit her lip, irritated by the rush of emotion. “Hormones are such a pain. I’m normally not much of a crier.”
The poor man looked stricken. “No, ma’am, you’re sure not. You’re the bravest woman I know.”
That startled her. “You must not know many women.”
He coughed, shifted his hat to his left hand and wiped a well-defined and decidedly muscular forearm over his brow. “Truth is, I don’t have much chance to, uh, socialize. Not that I couldn’t,” he added quickly. “It’s just that the rodeo circuit keeps me traveling so much there’s never enough time to get to know folks.”
Peggy brightened. “You like to travel?”
“Yes’m, I guess I do.”
“That must be so exciting. When I was a little girl, I used to pour over maps and crayon circles around all the places I wanted to visit.” She issued a nostalgic sigh and leaned back against the pillows. “Then I grew up.”
Travis eyed her intently, started to speak, then thought better of it. He studied his boots, then aimed another glance around the room, seeming visibly disappointed that the babies weren’t available. “Guess I should go. You need your rest.”
She waved that away. “I’m too keyed up to rest. Do you want to see the twins?”
His eyes lit like neon. “Yes, ma’am, I sure do.”
“So do I. I hate sitting here, waiting for some nurse to bring me my own children.” Pivoting carefully, Peggy lowered her feet to the floor.
Instantly, Travis stepped forward to grasp her elbow. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be out of bed?”
“It had better be. I’m going home Monday.”
“You’re still looking peaked and all.”
“The doctors said I’ll be fine, but they want me and the babies stronger before we’re all released.”
“Guess they know best,” he muttered, although clearly he disagreed. He slipped a protective arm around her waist. “Lean on me, ma’am.”
“Peggy, remember?”
“Yes, ma’am, Peggy.”
She chuckled. “Cowboy, you are just too much.”
Travis flopped on his hat to free both hands and helped Peggy down the hall toward the windowed wall of the nursery. They saw the activity from several feet away. Peggy felt Travis stiffen, hesitate. Her heart leapt into her throat.
She pushed away and stumbled forward on her own. A moment later he caught up and braced her as she pressed her hands against the glass. Inside, a team of medical personnel surrounded a Plexiglas incubator, their worried eyes focused above sterile masks. Frantic activity announced a tiny life in peril. Peggy couldn’t see the infant they were working on, but knew it could be one of her own precious babies. She was distraught. She was terrified.
But this time she wasn’t alone.
Chapter Three
Travis felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.
He tightened his grip on the frantic woman, urging her away from the nursery window. “Let’s go on back now. You ought to be resting.”
Peggy yanked out of his grasp just as a woman emerged from a nearby doorway. There was a stethoscope poking out of her breast pocket, so Peggy latched onto her. “What’s going on in there? Please, is something wrong with one of my babies?”
The nurse spiked a quick glance through the nursery window and smiled sadly. “That’s the preemie nursery.” She added a deflective nod down the hallway. “Your babies are in the next room.”
Peggy’s breath rushed out all at once. She sagged bonelessly into Travis’s arms. A warm, liquid feeling spread through his chest. He tried to ignore it, but a sweet fragrance wafted up from her hair, and the feel of her soft weight against him made him feel, well, kind of knightly.
It was a stupid sensation. Travis wasn’t anybody’s knight in shining armor. Even the fleeting image made him feel like a fool. Still, there it was, a protective instinct so strong that it shook him to his boots.
When Peggy’s gaze shuddered toward the incubator, the nurse’s did, too. “That’s Christopher,” she said with a sad sigh. “He was born late last night, only it was a little too soon for him, so he has some problems.”
Peggy’s lip quivered. “Will he be all right?”
“We hope so.”
Peggy looked up at Travis, her eyes wide with concern, moist with sympathy. “The poor little thing. His mother must be so frantic.”
The nurse’s lips thinned into an angry line. “One would think so. Unfortunately, we have no idea where she is. A security guard saw her slip out through the north-wing exit, but he didn’t realize that she was a patient, and since we were having trouble with the hospital generator at the time, things were a bit chaotic.”
Peggy was horrified. “You mean she simply walked away and abandoned her baby?”
“So it seems.”
“How can that be?” Peggy whispered. “How could any mother do such an evil thing?”
The nurse made a conspicuous attempt to soften her disapproval with a forced smile. “Christopher’s mother wasn’t much more than a child herself. She may have been overwhelmed by the responsibility of motherhood. We hope she’ll be back when she’s had a chance to think things through.”
Travis followed Peggy’s gaze to the incubator, which was partially exposed now that most of the medical team had moved away. Apparently the crisis was over. Electronic screens reflected rhythmic peaks and valleys, and inside the clear plastic box, hooked to a vicious assortment of tubes and wires, was the tiniest human Travis had ever seen in his entire life.
One doctor in surgical scrubs remained with the infant, gazing through the Plexiglas with an incredibly sad expression, but the rest of the group were already removing their masks, exiting the area with tight faces and rounded shoulders.
The nurse nodded at the red-eyed physician still hovering over the incubator. “That’s Dr. Howell.”
Peggy glanced up. “Randi Howell’s brother?”
“Yes. It’s been a horrible time for poor Noah. First his sister disappeared on her wedding day, then Olivia’s death, and now this poor little preemie struggling for life without anyone to love him.”
Travis knew Peggy was going to cry even before the first surge of moisture brightened those meadow green eyes. He made eye contact with the nurse, who understood his silent question and took Peggy’s arm, urging her down the hallway.
The woman’s smile broadened. “Your babies are doing beautifully, Mrs. Saxon.”
Peggy sniffed, brightened. “Are they?”
“Indeed, and they’re just gorgeous. Let’s go have a look, shall we?”
“Oh, yes.” Breathless, Peggy wiped her wet cheek, focusing on the window toward which she was being tactfully guided. “Oh…oh, there they are! Aren’t they beautiful, Travis?”
“Uh—” he gulped “—huh.” Clearly, childbirth had affected the poor woman’s vision. To Travis’s good old twenty-twenty sight, the red-haired infants in question resembled a matching pair of rumple-faced orangutans. “Umm, how come they’re all wrinkly?”
Peggy laughed, a delightful, melodic sound that sent happy chills down his spine. “Patience, Mr. Stockwell. God just hasn’t had a chance to iron them yet.”
Oddly enough, that made sense. Travis nodded dumbly, his gaze locked on the tiny faces blinking up from their Plexiglas bassinets. The boy, so designated by a blue-striped stretch cap, had loosened the tight infant wrap and was placidly gumming his fist. The pink-capped little girl completed a giant yawn, then stared straight at Travis as if thinking, “Hey, I know you!”
A lump rose in his throat, nearly choking him. They may not be the prettiest babies he’d ever seen, but he was absolutely convinced that they were the smartest.
“The staff adores them,” the nurse was saying. “They’re such good babies. Have you decided on names yet?”
Smiling, Peggy touched the window, flexing her fingertips against the glass. “What was the name of that road we were stuck on?”
Travis blinked. “Road? Oh, you mean Virginia?”
