The chief was right about one thing: Seton hadn’t told Sam what she’d learned. He’d said she didn’t need to look anymore, that she’d found out all he needed to know: that he was a true Callahan.
But she was curious, always too curious. The chief was right—she was a secret-keeper.
It was probably going to get her in a lot of trouble one day.
But if the chief wanted her lips sealed, then sealed they would stay. Although it didn’t seem right to keep something this important from Sam, when she’d vowed there’d be no more secrets between them.
Seton put a palm on her stomach, feeling her babies move, almost as if something had awakened them from their nap. “Chief Running Bear says you’re blessed, babies,” she murmured, and hoped the chief knew what he was talking about.
E
IGHT
HOURS
LATER
, Sam presented Seton with a picture of her nephew. “Look at that full head of black hair,” Sam said proudly. “You get that only with a Callahan. Practically full-grown right at the start!”
Seton giggled at Sam’s crowing. “Tell me everything,” she demanded, drinking in the photo hungrily. “Blue eyes, dark hair, and I can see a good squall coming out of that mouth—definitely Callahan features.”
“You better believe it. We rely on our ability to make noise,” Sam said, lounging next to her to stare at the baby picture. “That’s the birth photo that they take a few moments after the baby’s been cleaned up and weighed and all that jazz. But Uncle Sam took candids,” he said proudly, “so I’ve got all the good stuff.” He placed his camera on the coffee table and put a hand on her stomach, right where the chief had placed his. Seton shot Sam a guilty look.
“And I’m bushed,” he said. “You have no idea how hard being a birth coach is.”
“You were birth coach?” She couldn’t believe Sabrina would allow Sam to be with her. Seton loved him all the more for it.
“I was, and it was great. Sabrina didn’t think she needed a coach, but after she got to about eight centimeters, I think she decided any Callahan was better than no Callahan, damn Jonas and his self-discovery tour.” Sam frowned. “I’m supposed to be the rabbit-footed wanderer in the family. I really don’t appreciate Jonas deciding he’s just going to go off and ride the rails during his midlife crisis.”
Seton couldn’t help smiling at Sam’s displeasure with his brother. “Thank you for being with Sabrina. I wish I could have been with her, too.”
Sam kissed her on the stomach. “No doubt Sabrina would have preferred to have you, but she got me, and trust me, I discharged my responsibility with utmost detail. I even got ice chips for her.”
“That’s very good, Sam,” Seton said. “So you feel in shape to do it again next week?”
He went pale. “Next week?”
“I’m at thirty-one weeks now and holding steady. But the doctor says I can’t go much longer because of my blood pressure.”
Sam’s face fell. “They’ll be so small.”
She nodded. “Probably about two and a half pounds, each, if we’re lucky. They’re around two pounds now.”
He leaned back. “I’d better go over the list one more time with the ladies.”
“List?”
“Your aunt and Mavis Night set up a rotating schedule with Jackie, Darla, Aberdeen and Julie, as well as various members of the Books’n’Bingo Society and anybody else who wanted a place on the calendar. Many hands make light work, Corinne said. Don’t worry, they have Sabrina in rotation, too. She’ll have plenty of help. You McKinley women are prolific.”
Seton felt warmed by all the people who wanted to help. “It’s great living in Diablo.”
“Aren’t you glad now you came back?” Sam asked, his head lolling so he could look at her.
And you’re the reason I’m here. I just don’t know if you’ll ever feel the same about me as I do about you.
“Sure,” Seton said, “Diablo is wonderful.”
He picked up her hand and held it to his lips for a moment. “Everything is going to be fine.”
She gazed at her husband and tried to smile. “Thanks again for being with Sabrina.”
His eyelids began to drift shut. She could see how worn-out Sam was from his big day as birth coach. “This week the tiny redhead, next week the big blonde. Babies, babies, babies.”
She punched him in the arm, and his eyes flew open. “I was not always the big blonde,” she said, pretending outrage, but laughing in spite of herself.
“Don’t worry,” Sam said, closing his eyes again, “you’re still the most beautiful girl in Diablo. And the only one I could have married.”
Chapter Fifteen
The day after Sabrina went home from the hospital, Sam took Seton to Santa Fe for her delivery. He was a bundle of nerves, though he wasn’t about to admit that to his wife. He didn’t want to visit his worries on her; he wanted her to feel he had everything under control.
Nothing was under control.
Or at least, it didn’t feel as if it was. The usually steady, sure Sam in the courtroom was definitely Nervous Dad.
But he couldn’t say that to Seton. Instead, as they wheeled her into the delivery room, he said, “It’s going to be fine.”
He nearly hit the floor when they gave her the epidural. And when it was time for Dr. Stewart to make the first incision, Sam definitely went light-headed. Still, he snapped photos and comforted Seton, making sure he stayed out of the way of the army of nurses and doctors around her.
When the first baby came out, tears welled up so fast Sam felt like Niagara Falls. He snapped pictures, then went over to push Seton’s hair back from her face. “She’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
A wan smile curved Seton’s lips. “Just tell me she’s healthy.”
He didn’t know. They wouldn’t know for a while. He said, “She looks great to me, but I’m just the photographer.”
He was barely prepared when the second little girl came out. Reality hit him hard. “We have another girl! And she’s beautiful, too!”
He watched the neonatal nurses as they carefully cleaned his children and put on breathing tubes, weighed them, checked Apgar something-or-others—that part was beyond him. “For little bitty things, they yell as loud as my brothers,” he told Seton, bragging. “Surely that’s a good sign.”
“They’ve got the Callahan spirit,” she said, and he nodded.
It wasn’t long before the third baby was born, and Sam had to take a deep breath to clear his head. He really was going to be a dad to four little girls. The most astonishing thing was happening to him—to Seton and him—and it was magical and wonderful, and he couldn’t believe how blessed he was.
It seemed like forever before the fourth baby came out. “Oops,” Dr. Stewart said. “This one was a shy one. He was keeping a little secret from us.”
“What?” Sam and Seton said together.
“What?” Sam repeated. He went closer to look at the small bundle the doctor was handing off to the neonatal nurses. “It’s a boy?”
“It is a boy,” Dr. Stewart said. “All boy, I might add.”
Tears hit Sam all over again. He had three girls and a son, thanks to Seton. He was certain it was against protocol, but he couldn’t stop himself—he went right over and kissed his wife on the lips. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve just given me everything I never had.”
Seton smiled but didn’t say anything. But he could see the joy in her eyes. He left her for a moment to check on his children. “How are they?” he asked the nurses. “Besides loud and opinionated, I mean?”
“Small, but steady. About two and a half pounds each, but strong,” a nurse told him. He could barely pay attention to what she was saying. His gaze went from baby to baby, trying to take it all in. It was astonishing and amazing that these children were his.
He had his own family now.
And if Seton thought she was getting a divorce, she was in for a surprise. He knew what she was thinking, and he’d always planned to honor their original agreement.
But he could win her over.
At least he hoped he could.
“
W
ITHOUT
WEARING
YOU
OUT
with details,” Sam told Sabrina on the phone, “your sister is fine, and you have three nieces and one nephew. They can all play with Jonas Cavanaugh, although he’ll be a lot bigger and stronger than his cousins.”
“That’s wonderful!” Sabrina exclaimed. “How is Seton?”
“Tired. Beautiful. Happy. At least I think she’s happy. She seems quiet, but I’d be quiet if I’d had four children pulled out of my stomach.”
“I’m sure you took lots of pictures for me?”
“You bet. That was just about my only role, besides being Chief Worrywart.”
“Did someone say Chief?” Seton asked, waking up from her nap.
“I have to go. Your sister just woke up, and hopefully she’ll be hungry. The babies will be staying here for a while, but I think I’ll be able to bring Seton home in a few days.” Sam frowned, not liking the thought of being so far away from his children. “I don’t know, that’s actually a plan in flux.”
“You’re an awesome birth coach. Thanks for calling, Sam. And congratulations.”
Sabrina hung up and Sam grinned. He went over to see his little wife, who looked strange to him without the mountain of babies in her stomach. The sheet over her body was flat. “How do you feel?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Like my body doesn’t know what happened to it.”
“It doesn’t.” Sam sat in a chair next to her bed. “The kids are down in the nursery, getting all kinds of attention. You’d be surprised at what attention hogs they are.”
“No, I wouldn’t. They’re Callahans.”
If Sam smiled any wider, he thought he’d probably split his head. “They’re pretty healthy, for being no bigger than small baking potatoes.”
“Sam!” The first smile he’d seen on Seton’s face stayed for just a moment, then disappeared. “You can’t compare your children to potatoes.” She looked at him. “Did I hear you say something about Chief?”
“No,” Sam said, “what chief?”
“Chief Running Bear?” She glanced toward the door.
“I said I was Chief Worrywart,” Sam said, remembering what he’d called himself during his conversation with Sabrina. “How do you know about Chief Running Bear?”
Seton blinked. “You’ve talked about him before.”
“Oh.” Sam shrugged. “No, I was just telling Sabrina how worried I’d been.”
“I thought you said you weren’t worried.”
He looked at his wife. “Now that it’s all over, I can admit to a smidgen of husbandly concern, fatherly nerves, whatever.”
“Glad you’re over it.” Seton closed her eyes, hoping that the discussion of Chief Running Bear was closed. “I’m going to nap, husband. Try to stay out of trouble, Chief Worrywart.”
Sam laughed, and she heard him leave the room. Seton kept her eyes shut, and thought,
that was a close one.
S
AM
DROVE
BACK
to Rancho Diablo, hating to leave Seton in the hospital in Santa Fe, but he needed to check on some things at the ranch. Only so much could be done by phone, and he knew that Seton was being well cared for by a great staff and an army of visitors.
He wasn’t worried now about anything except possibly Seton herself. She’d grown more quiet around him, though he suspected that had a lot to do with her body’s sudden changes. There was a lot she was trying to learn, and he knew she would try to handle everything with her typical attention to detail.
But he still thought she was quiet—too quiet.
He hoped she wasn’t thinking about their agreement. Now that Sabrina had delivered her baby, and no Jonas was in sight, Sam really feared that Seton might decide to pull the trigger on the divorce they’d agreed to.
She had the baby she’d wanted, after all—a whole insta-family of them. Seton was so independent she just might decide to do it.
“I didn’t ever get her locked down,” Sam muttered to himself as he climbed out of the truck in Rancho Diablo’s drive.
“Talking to yourself?” Rafe asked as he went by with a flashlight.
“Are you looking for ghosts?” Sam demanded. “What are you doing out here at midnight with a flashlight?”
“Thought I heard something.” Rafe went on, paying more attention to his bogeyman hunting than his brother.
Which figured. Sam headed to the bunkhouse, tossing his duffel and Dopp kit on the leather sofa.
It was so empty in this house without Seton. Sam glanced around, realizing that he needed to shift Seton’s command center back to its normal place and tidy up. She wasn’t going to want to come home and be reminded of the many, many days she’d spent on this sofa.
He decided he’d do that tomorrow, before he went back to the hospital. Right now it was time for forty winks—or that was the plan until he heard a slight noise in one of the back bedrooms. Very slight, only a rustle, but something.
It could have been Rafe moving around outside with his stupid flashlight. The bunkhouse was always left unlocked, even more so once Seton had taken up residence on the sofa. Because she couldn’t get up and down to answer the door, he’d left a sign on it that read “Babies on Board. Please Be Quiet in Case of Sleeping Mother.”
Sam crept to the back, toward where he thought he’d heard the sound.
Something landed hard against his back, and Sam turned, grabbing the intruder and smashing him against the wall. He socked a nose and kneed a gut, all the while trying to stay out of the way of flying fists. Sam aimed for the groin and, hearing a satisfying curse word, dragged his visitor out of the bunkhouse into the dusty driveway. His assailant landed another punch, splitting skin near his eye, and with a roar, Sam leaped on top of the man, pushing him to the ground. They rolled over and over in the driveway, each trying to gain the upper hand, until Sam finally grabbed a handful of hair and bashed his opponent’s head as hard as he could against the ground.
His nocturnal visitor finally lay still beneath him, and Sam tried to catch his breath.
“Hey, Sam, what the hell,” Rafe said, walking by again with his flashlight. “I’d think a new father wouldn’t have the energy to play in the dirt at this hour.”
“Ass,” Sam growled, “bring that light and your feeble intelligence over this way so I can see what I’m sitting on.”
“Holy crap,” Rafe said, directing the beam over the man Sam was perched on. “Friend of yours?”
“Never seen him before.” Sam glared at the prone stranger. “Get a rope, would you? He’s going to be out for only a minute or two, and I don’t have the strength to coldcock him again.” Nor the knuckles, Sam thought, flexing his hands.
His brothers ran up in a thunder of boots.
“Is it Bode?” Pete demanded.
“No, which is good, because Julie sure would be mad at her husband if it was.” Sam got up and let the others do the trussing. “We’d tell her Rafe beat on her pop, to keep me off Julie’s bad list.”
“No, we wouldn’t,” Rafe said, dialing a number on his cell phone, which Sam suspected was Sheriff Cartwright’s. “A happy man is one who keeps his wife happy. And I do that by playing dice and dominoes with Julie’s pop, not beating the tar out of him.”
“Say, stranger,” Creed said, kicking the man in the ribs lightly enough to get his attention, “wake up and tell us what’s on your mind.”