He just wasn’t sure how.
“I
GUESS
I
WIN
, after all, just like we planned in the very beginning,” Sam told his brothers as they sat upstairs in the library, having a weekly meeting. Actually, they weren’t meeting as much as trying to absorb Sam’s super-huge news. “If there was anything to win, I would. However, since Bode’s given up the fight and the ranch has been divided, I get four bundles of joy just because I’m the lucky one in the family.”
“Lucky or the best shot,” Rafe observed. “That’s like one of those pool moves where one ball hits several others and they all sink. Always looks so easy on TV.” Rafe grinned at him. “That’s kind of what you did, a one-shot multi-pocket, bro.”
Judah raised his glass. “I think it’s the luck of the baby. We’ve always known Sam had it easier than the rest of us.”
“Easier!” Sam glared at his brothers. “I don’t see how four babies is going to be easier, on me or Seton.” He shook his head. “The doctor said something about bed rest coming sooner with quadruplets, but I could barely focus on what he was saying. In fact, I think I might have been a little light-headed,” he added thoughtfully.
Pete laughed. “That’s shock, bro. Every dad gets it. Some worse than others.”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about my wife.”
“What’s to do?” Creed asked. “Whether you like it or not, you’ve been blessed with four babies. In a few days, you’ll get excited about it. I think.”
Sam wasn’t certain. At the moment, he thought his overriding emotion was fear.
Who the hell am I? How can I be a father?
“Personally, I think it’s hellaciously amusing that Seton snuck up on you like that,” Judah said. “I remember when you said you weren’t going to be caught by a woman, that you weren’t going to be a sad sack running after a female. Seton went ahead and pulled the trigger for you, times four.”
His brothers laughed. Sam scratched his head, still not sure what he thought about his little wife’s plan. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way. She and I were just going to get married, no strings attached. Sort of.”
“Ha,” Pete said, “that’ll teach you to try to plot your future. When it comes to wives and babies, it’s all about hanging on for dear life.”
Yeah, but his brothers were so happy with their wives. Sam wondered if he and Seton would ever get to that stage.
He sort of felt she’d been dishonest, but that wasn’t true. She’d never made any secret of how much she wanted a child. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Sam said. “I think I should be mad at her, but I’m pretty certain I’m just freaked out.”
“Well,” Creed began, in a kindly tone, “too bad there’s nothing for you to win anymore. Thanks to Bode, we’re free men again.”
Sam shrugged and raised his glass when his brothers did, toasting his news. Part of him knew he should be with Seton at this moment. She had no one to talk to, not really. There was her aunt, and maybe her sister, if Sabrina was around, not to mention four other Callahan brides on the ranch. He sighed. “I better go. I’m pretty sure I should be celebrating with my wife. Not with you laughing hyenas.”
That set his brothers off on a great wave of guffaws—
turkeys!
—and so Sam slunk off, not sure how a man who wasn’t ready to be a dad could be suddenly expecting quadruplets.
Four little babies who were going to need him.
He had to pull himself together.
Chapter Eleven
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Seton said two weeks later, and Sam raised his hands high in the air.
“I surrender,” he said. “I don’t think I can wrap my poor slow brain around any more of your news bulletins, love.”
She shook her head. “Maybe you need another law case to take on. You’re sounding out of practice, for the bulldog attorney you’re supposed to be.”
She smiled as she stared at her computer screen, and Sam took a seat beside her with a deep sigh. “Is this going to work for you as a pseudo-office? We can make more adjustments, but I have a funny feeling you’re not going to be going to your office in town much longer. Even I can see that you’re growing more bountiful.”
“I have a little while longer, I hope,” she said, “and this office you put together for me is nice. Thank you, Sam.”
This time she smiled at him, and Sam’s heart filled up. He was still glad he’d married her, even if she was a tricky little thing. Secretly, he liked the fact that he had to stay on his toes around her. Seton was so sweet and so kind that he hadn’t been able to stay disgruntled with her for long.
After all, she hadn’t been on the pregnancy medication that long. He’d finally realized that it was probably just plain ol’ Callahan testosterone and good fortune that had brought him four babies. And the fact that he’d always known he was more manly than his brothers. If nothing else, he’d decided that finding himself pregnant with multiples had to confirm he was part of the Callahan family tree. He preferred that thought to the alternative, so he was staying with it.
Sam grinned at his wife, who regarded him with suspicion. “I bet those drugs you were taking were about the same as when doctors used to prescribe ketchup and sugar for things. Useless.”
She raised a brow. “I’m sure it was all you, cowboy. The fact that I can’t zip up any pants I once loved is a testament to your amazing virility.”
He nodded, feeling buffered now. “I’m ready to hear your latest bomb, doll.”
Seton rolled her eyes, then shook her head. “I can’t find any records regarding your parents’ deaths. None. I’ve called several offices in different counties, even checked with some places in Ireland, just in case for some reason their deaths had happened over there, since you boys don’t remember. There are no records anywhere.”
Sam frowned. “Are records from that many years ago easy to find?”
“Yes.” Seton nodded. “Even handwritten death certificates are computerized in most cases, and files are available in all counties. Something should have turned up.”
Sam absorbed her statement, puzzling over the implications. “Why would two people—people married to each other—have no traceable records?”
Seton shrugged. “That’s a question you’d have to ask Fiona. Possibly they died in such a remote location that records weren’t made. The only thought that comes to mind, which would be impossible, is that your parents never died.” She looked at Sam with compassion in her eyes. “I’m sorry not to have more concrete information. I’ll keep looking.”
“Thanks,” he said, feeling numb and somehow unsure how to take what he was hearing.
“The only other thought is that your folks weren’t who they said they were,” Seton said slowly.
Sam grunted. “Which doesn’t make sense, because Fiona is definitely our aunt, and though I wasn’t born yet, Jonas knows that Fiona was the next of kin. So she came to raise us. Now, come over here and sit in my lap so I can ponder this mystery more fully.”
Seton looked at him. “How would that help you think?”
“It’s a theory I have. If you’re sitting on my lap,” Sam said, reaching for her and drawing her to him, “it’ll relax me.” He put his hands over her stomach, enjoying feeling the roundness where his babies were. “Something about having all five of my babies right here with me has to help the cogs and wheels turn.”
Seton relaxed against his chest. “Your cogs and wheels seem to turn pretty quickly, anyway.”
“Yeah.” He put his face in her hair and nuzzled her neck. “But having you this close helps me think better, I just know it.”
“It’s helping you do something,” Seton said. “I feel like Mount Saint Helens is rising underneath me.”
“About that—” Sam said, but Seton fled.
“Nope, that’s not thinking,” she said, sitting back down at her computer. “And you’re paying me to think.”
“I’d pay you to sit in my lap and take care of the Mount Saint Helens problem,” Sam said, “but you’d probably accuse me of being shallow. Which I am, I must admit.” He watched his pretty wife frown at the screen, and realized she was paying zero attention to his attempts to woo her into bed.
“It makes no sense that no one in this town knows what happened to your parents,” she mused. “This is not D.C. We’re a small community, and everybody is always in each other’s business, 24/7.”
“Yeah.” Sam rubbed at his stubble, and tried to focus on what Seton was saying and not how gorgeous she was with the late-afternoon sun spilling in on her. They probably couldn’t have sex much longer, and that alone was going to kill him. “Did I ever tell you how much I enjoy making love with you?”
Seton turned her head and smiled at him. “The feeling is returned, cowboy.”
“Any chance—”
“No,” Seton said, quashing his hopes. “Because you said you’d think, and you’re not.”
He closed his eyes, willing himself to concentrate so Seton might favor him with her body. It was a pretty neat trick a woman had, this business of making a man want her so much that he wasn’t entirely opposed to going without football, cigar nights with buddies, brawling.... Sam’s eyes snapped open. “Bode knows.”
She turned to look at him again, her brows arched. “Bode?”
“He has to.” Sam’s thoughts were running a mile a minute. “He knows exactly what happened to them. It’s why he tried to get our ranch.”
“Wait,” Seton said. “This isn’t making sense.”
“No, it’s not.” Sam stood. “I’m going to go talk to Rafe.”
“Why Rafe?”
“Because he’s Bode’s son-in-law. He’s been spending time with the old coot, playing cards and dominoes and sharing a few toots of whiskey from time to time. Rafe’s a softie,” Sam said, knowing exactly how a man went from being a hard-ass to a softie at the hands of a woman. “He couldn’t stand Julie not being on good terms with her dad because of him. Couldn’t bear his daughters not knowing their grandfather, even if he is an old fart. Rafe’s a thinker,” Sam said. “Sometimes he thinks too much. However, in this case, he’s probably right.”
Seton blinked. “So what does all that mean?”
“It means that Rafe is the one to weasel any information Bode has out of him,” Sam said with satisfaction. “I’m going to go explain to my brother what he needs to do.”
“And then,” Seton said, “tonight I’ll reward you for thinking so hard.”
Sam smiled. “And I’ll reward you for being such a studious P.I. Obviously, you’re going to be worth every penny, sweetheart.”
He laughed as she shook her head at him, and went off to corner his brother.
“
N
OT
ME
,”
R
AFE
SAID
,
when Sam found him in the tack room. “I’m not going to pump my father-in-law. He’ll think I’ve been sucking up to him. And I have been, but for far different reasons. You want your info, you go get it.”
“It affects all of us,” Sam pointed out.
“Yep,” Rafe said, slinging a saddle across a wooden horse for oiling. “And you’re the legal beagle married to the gumshoe who thought up this angle. You take care of it. That’s why we pay you the big bucks.”
“You don’t pay me anything,” Sam said, and Rafe laughed.
“Well, we got you at the right price then.” He whistled as he began rubbing the saddle. “You’ll find Bode enjoying his evening meal right about now. Afterward, if you offer him a whiskey, he’ll likely not shoot you on sight. Wave the bottle in clear view of the windows when you set foot on his property. That’s my advice.”
“Great.” Sam went off to find a bottle of whiskey—thankfully, Burke kept a generous cellar of necessary libations—and drove next door to Bode’s. He held the bottle up over his head and strode to the front door.
“Leave it on the porch!” Bode yelled from inside the house. “And get off my property!”
“I’m not leaving it unless you let me in!” Sam yelled back. Two could play at being crotchety neighbors.
Bode flung open the door. “Why are you bothering me at dinnertime?”
Sam pushed his way in, knowing he wouldn’t get a ready invite. “Because I’m hungry, and no one should eat alone, not even you.”
Bode muttered what sounded like a curse word—although Sam preferred to think it was just an effusive greeting at his sudden appearance—and led the way into his study. “I know why you’re here.”
“No, you don’t.” Sam sat in a leather wingback chair and relinquished the bottle. “You don’t know anything. Quit acting like you do.”
“Yeah, I do.” Bode begrudgingly handed him a plain glass that looked as if it had been purchased at Walmart. “That’s my best crystal. Don’t get your paw marks all over it.”
“It’ll wash.” Sam sniffed. “Unlike the marks you’ll leave on your glass, Jenkins. The devil doesn’t leave anything behind that soap can fix.”
“All right,” Bode said. “With customary greetings out of the way, you want to talk about why I chose to fold on getting you off your property.”
“Well,” Sam said, momentarily distracted, “that would be interesting. It’s a story you can share with me another day. Right now, I want to hear what happened to our parents. I’m sure you know something, because you mentioned it to Rafe at one point. I filed it in the back of my brain at the time, when you told him to ask Fiona about everything, but it’s finally blown out of my mental filing cabinet.” Sam raised his glass. “So, let’s have it.”
“You ain’t gonna get it from me,” Bode said, staring straight at him, “because I promised your no-good father I wouldn’t say a word.”
Sam blinked. “My no-good father?”
“That’s right. Jeremiah Callahan. Who’d you think your dad was?” Bode glared at him. “You’re supposed to be the brains of the outfit.”
“No, that’s Rafe,” Sam murmured. “Sometimes it’s Jonas.” His gaze shot to Bode’s. “But I came after our parents died. How can Jeremiah Callahan be my father?”
Bode looked at him. “How do you think, bright boy? Your mother was pregnant with you. I remember it.”
“Jonas said I came later.”
“Aw.” Bode blew out a breath. “A six-year-old boy doesn’t know whether his mother’s expecting a baby or not. He just remembers that they left, and one day, you arrived. That’s an interesting enough event that even a young kid would marvel at it, sort of like the tooth fairy.”
Sam hesitated. “Are you saying Mom didn’t die when Fiona said she did?”