Rescuing the Cowboy

Quinn felt it then. Teddy was tracing his index finger along the engraving on his leather belt depicting a herd of galloping horses.

“Hey, son.”

“Haws. Wunning.”

“Yes, the horses are running.” Summer blinked back tears.

Quinn issued the invitation without thinking. “He can stay with me if he wants.”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently, her tears instantly drying. “No,” she repeated, starting for the kitchen. Except Teddy didn’t follow her. “Come on, honey.”

He stuck out his lower lip, his concentration focused on his finger as it traveled from one horse to the other on Quinn’s belt.

Summer wavered, visibly torn.

“I have a solution,” Quinn said amicably. “I’ll go with you and Teddy.”

Again Summer shook her head in protest. But when Quinn started walking, Teddy did, too.

Chapter Two (#ulink_e0469b2d-e2a2-5d9e-9ca1-16e48bee8561)

Quinn had been to Arizona many times during the years he competed. There were several well-known rodeos in the state, the Parada del Sol being one of the biggest and most popular. He’d heard of Mustang Valley from his cousins, mostly how they’d refused to set foot in the place again after what they viewed as their father’s abandonment, but he hadn’t visited.

Then their father’s death had brought them home after a long, long absence. In a way, it had also brought Quinn there.

He stared at the distant outline of the McDowell Mountains, grateful for his recent good fortune. This was a place worth living in and not just because he’d spent the last two-plus years calling a stark concrete cell the size of a closet home.

Dusk fell, and the sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving behind a half moon hovering above Pinnacle Peak. A flock of doves took flight from a nearby paloverde tree and winged their way into the great expanse of the desert. Distant lowing from some of Dos Estrellas’ twelve hundred head of cattle grew softer and less frequent as they settled in for the night.

Quinn stood in the front courtyard of the Dempsey house. Behind the ranch and a good two miles north lay the town. In this direction, however, the land seemed to extend forever.

Inside the house, the party continued strong. He’d escaped after dinner and come outside, hoping no one was offended. His need for solitude wasn’t the fault of the guests. They were all nice and cheerfully welcomed him, though some couldn’t hide their curiosity.

He simply liked being alone and shutting out all the noise until only his own thoughts remained. At times the craving was too powerful to resist, and he gave in.

That might be the reason he liked and understood Teddy. Sometimes a person didn’t want to be touched or talked to or bothered.

Quinn thought Summer must also understand Teddy. At least, she tried. She certainly respected his boundaries.

He compared his own situation to Summer’s, noting the differences. He’d been denied the chance to parent his daughter and longed for contact with her. Summer, however, lived with Teddy but wasn’t allowed to touch him. How hard that must be for her.

An exterior light came on. The next instant, the front door to the house, a large and ornately engraved oak panel, swung open. Summer stepped outside as if by thinking of her Quinn had made her appear. Teddy, as usual, stood beside her.

She obviously hadn’t seen Quinn yet and assumed she had the courtyard to herself. He would have relished the chance to observe her unnoticed, except in the next instant Josh’s two young children tumbled outside like a pair of puppies set free after being confined all day.

Nathan, Josh’s three-year-old son, bounded over to where Quinn sat on the stone bench by the fountain. “Hi, Uncle Quinn. What are you doing?”

The boy had started calling him “Uncle” without any encouragement. While technically inaccurate, Quinn didn’t mind.

“Nothing much. What about you?”

“Daddy says I’m being bad. Too noisy.”

The boy was followed by his ever-present shadow, his eighteen-month-old sister, Kimberly. She babbled in a baby language Quinn couldn’t translate.

His throat strangely tightened. His daughter—hell, he didn’t even know her name—was maybe six months younger than Nathan. He didn’t know her exact age, either. Damn. It wasn’t fair. Frustration built before he could contain it.

“I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Hearing Summer’s voice, he glanced up to see her and Teddy approach.

“No problem,” Quinn answered. “It’s a beautiful evening. A shame not to enjoy it.”

“Those two were being a bit rambunctious. I offered to take them outside. Teddy needed a break anyway.”

Quinn angled his head to better see Teddy. “I know how you feel, pal. Crowds get to me, too.”

The boy rewarded Quinn by making eye contact for a few seconds.

“He likes you,” Summer said, a trace of wonder in her voice.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“Noooo,” Kimberly abruptly cried out, her one understandable word. Frowning, she pushed at Nathan.

He retaliated by kneeling in front of the fountain, dipping his hand in the tepid water and splashing her. She screamed as if doused with boiling lava.

Quinn stood. Before he could intervene, Summer did.

“Hey, you two. Behave.”

“She hit me,” Nathan objected, scrambling to his feet.

“You’re bigger and older than her.”

She attempted to reason with the boy, explaining how it was his job to set a good example for his sister. From the way Nathan stuck out his lower lip, Quinn could see he wasn’t taking the lesson to heart. Beside him, Teddy began humming. Quinn didn’t think it bode well.

Something he hadn’t thought of in years suddenly popped into his head. Reaching for his wallet, he extracted a dollar bill. Teddy watched Quinn’s every move as he executed a number of intricate folds. Before too long, the bill resembled a swan. A rather crooked swan, mind you. Quinn’s skills were rusty.

“Here. Take it.” He handed the swan to Teddy.

After lengthy and careful consideration, Teddy took it.

“Come on.” Quinn walked to the fountain, motioning to Teddy.

The boy just stared, his eyes void of expression.

Quinn pointed to the water. “Swans like to swim.”