Hannah Howell (45 page)

“What do you think?” Denton followed.

“I think we're probably going to drown,” Cole yelled above the fury of the storm.

Royal sensed his brothers close behind him but did not look back to be sure. He doubted he could see them if they were more than a few feet away. Despite his urge to hurry, he was forced to go slow because the rain made it hard to see, as well as making the ground somewhat unsafe. If he had not ridden over every inch of the land almost from the day he was born, he was not sure he would have been able to find his way back to the house. The wind drove the rain so hard that he had to stay hunched in the saddle, his face averted most of the time.

When he reached the ranch, he went to the stables first. The place looked deserted and no one answered his call. As Cole and Denton arrived only a moment after he did, Royal saw that the wagon was gone, which meant that the women had not returned. Adding to his increasing worry was the presence of a horse he did not recognize.

“Hell, never seen the place look so deserted,” Cole muttered.

“We can see to the horses in a minute,” Royal said even as he started toward the house. “I want to check on Antonie first."

He jogged to the house only to find the door locked. For a moment, he could not believe it, but then began to pound on the door. It was several minutes before he got any answer, then a small voice demanded to know who it was.

“Sancho?” he yelled. “That you? Open the door."

“You say who you are first."

“Damnit, Sancho, it's Royal. Open the damn door."

“Oh,
señor,
it is good that you came back,” Sancho cried as he quickly opened the door and let the three men in.

Removing his coat and hat, Royal demanded, “Where the hell is everybody? Are they all gone?"

"Sí, señor.
Only the
señora,
Camden, and me were left here. Then the storm came. The
señora
had me lock the doors,
patrón,
so that no one could sneak in, eh? I have been watching the doors because the
señora
couldn't do it."

Although the boy did not seem overly upset, there was something about Sancho's mood that made Royal's heart skip a beat. “Where is the
señora?"

“Up in her bed,
patrón.
The baby decided to come. She said it couldn't wait."

The same fear that had driven him to race through the driving rain now froze him to the spot. He stared up the stairs, unable to believe that what he had feared was exactly what had happened. It did not seem possible that even in this matter things could not go smoothly.

“Antonie's having the baby now?” he croaked.

"Sí, señor."

Even as Sancho spoke a cry came from upstairs. Royal jumped, then started to race up the stairs. After only a brief hesitation, the others followed. Coming to an abrupt halt in the doorway to their room, Royal froze again.

Antonie heard the disturbance even through her pain. O'Neill kept telling her that it would be a few minutes now, but she felt as if he had been saying that for hours. To see that Royal had come home despite the weather, seemed a mixed blessing to her. She had decided that childbirth had to be one of the most undignified things a woman had to endure, and she did not really want Royal to see her like this, yet she felt a need for his presence.

Royal did not believe his eyes, was not sure he wanted to. Antonie lay on the bed gripping the rails of the headboard, clearly in great pain. A huge, redheaded, bare-chested man was very interested in what was happening between Antonie's legs. Royal's stunned mind took a moment to recognize the man.

“O'Neill?” He took a step into the room.

“Don't get any closer to the lass ‘til you get dried off and cleaned up,” O'Neill said.

“But..."

“If you're real quick, you might get to see this stubborn babe come into the world."

“Come on, Royal,” Cole urged. “I'll help you. Denton, can you and Sancho see to the horses?"

“But..."

Tugging Royal down the hall, Cole said, “O'Neill knows what he's doing. If he says clean up first, that's what you will do. Just thank God that he showed up when he did, when he was needed."

“But where the hell did he come from?"

“Wondered the same thing when he arrived in the nick of time for Tomás. Come on. Let's move."

“Royal,” Antonie gasped as she saw her husband towed away, then, when the doorway was empty again, began to wonder if she had really seen him at all. “Royal was here?"

“He was, lass,” O'Neill replied. “He'll be right back. The man's been in the rain and mud and with horses. He washes up first."

“Must be clean, eh?"

“Damn right. Now. I figure you only have a few minutes to decide if you want him here or not."

“You'd keep him out if I asked it?"

“If I have to tie him up to do it."

“So undignified, this having babies."

“It is that, lass.” He laughed, then said quietly, “Aye, undignified, but look at what you gain."

"Sí.
He will want to be here. I think I want him even though I don't want him looking too much."

“Well, I'll see how he acts. I can't have him getting in the way."

“Soon?” she gasped. “It will be soon?"

“It will, lass. I know it doesn't seem like it to you, but things are moving along smoothly and quickly."

Still doing up the buttons of a clean shirt, Royal hurried back to Antonie. Again he hesitated in the doorway. There was a tension in the air that quickly infected him. Then Antonie reached out her hand to him, and he hurried to her side.

“Almost too late, Royal,” O'Neill said almost absently. “When I say push, darlin', you push with all your might."

Spellbound, Royal watched as his child entered the world. He was only faintly aware of how tightly Antonie gripped his hand. The pain she was unknowingly inflicting did not seem important. He held his breath as he waited for the newborn child in O'Neill's big hands to show indisputable proof of life. The moment the baby cried, Royal closed his eyes in relief and felt Antonie's hand go limp.

“Alive,” she whispered, smiled weakly, and fainted.

“O'Neill!"

“Only a faint,” O'Neill announced with certainty after a quick check. “Nothing to worry about. You've got a fine son."

“A son,” Royal murmured as he moved to stare at the baby O'Neill cleaned, despite the child's vociferous protests.

“Sounds healthy."

“Oh, yes.” Royal laughed shakily, then had to turn his attention to his nephew who began to cry in sympathy. “Denton,” he called as he strode into the hall holding Camden.

Denton was before him an instant later, taking his son into his arms. “How's Antonie?"

“Fine. I have to get back."

“Wait.” Denton grasped Royal by the arm.

“A boy,” Royal answered before Denton could ask, then, slipping free of his brother's hold, hurried back to Antonie.

After helping O'Neill clean up the unconscious Antonie, Royal sat by the bed and watched her sleep. He was only faintly aware of Cole delivering some food and drink for him, which he dutifully consumed but did not taste. Except for the times he responded to a compulsion to see that a new child really did sleep in the cradle in their room, his gaze never left the sleeping Antonie. He had to hear her talk to him before he could fully accept O'Neill's assurances that she was fine and would soon be as good as new.

He could not erase the sight of her body racked with pain. She was so small and delicate. Royal did not know how her body could take such strain without damage. O'Neill had assured him that none had been inflicted, but he was not fully convinced of that yet. He wanted to see her awake and recovering, acting like the Antonie he had left only this morning.

Antonie woke up slowly. Her alertness accelerated when she became aware of the change in her body. For a moment she had thought it all a dream, but the sense of emptiness and the persistent aching told her differently. Her gaze swept the room, then rested on the child curled up in the cradle.

“Alive,” she whispered.

Sitting up quickly, Royal took her hand in his. “Yes, Antonie. We've got a son and he's very much alive."

She looked at him and smiled. “You came home."

“Yes. God, I'm sorry, Antonie. I should've noticed, should have made sure someone was here for you."

She put her fingers against his lips to stop his litany of guilt. “I should have noticed, too. If not for the storm I could have sent Sancho for someone. O'Neill came and everything is all right."

“Is it? Are you all right?"

"Sí.
O'Neill must have told you so."

“He did but,” Royal shook his head, “there was so much pain, and you're so small. I just thought, well, if I heard you talking again, it meant O'Neill was right."

“Well, he is right. Even now the pain becomes a memory. I could use a drink though."

After helping her sit up, he handed her a glass of water. “O'Neill says you are to put the baby to your breast.” Even as he spoke, he gently picked up his son and brought him to the bed. “Unless, well, I never thought to ask if you wanted a wet nurse for him."

Setting her glass aside, Antonie took her child into her arms, undid her gown, and urged the sleepy child to suckle. “No. He is my baby. And that is what these are for, eh?"

“We-ell,” he sat beside her, enthralled by the sight. “I can think of one or two other uses."

“Rogue."

“Probably."

“Juan Ramirez Bancroft. Nice, eh?"

Sighing, Royal said, “You know I don't really want my son named after a
bandido."

“I promised Juan I would name my first son after him. On his deathbed. He said, ‘I will be remembered. It is enough.'."

Closing his eyes briefly, Royal said carefully, “People like him are not forgotten quickly, Antonie."

“I understand your reluctance, but I promised him,” she said quietly. “He was my papa, Royal."

“I know. We'll compromise. Ramirez is all right. It's a common name. No one will know it's the name of a notorious
bandido."

“Ramirez Bancroft? Is not Ramirez a strange first name?"

“I'd rather that than everyone getting my son confused with Juan Ramirez,
bandido,
most wanted man in the southwest for twenty years. On his birth papers we'll write Ramirez Juan Bancroft, but we'll call him Ram or R.J. It's common to shorten names. You can tell him all about Juan when he's old enough, but at least he won't spend his life trying to explain why he's named after a
bandido."

“You think people will still remember Juan when our son is grown?"

“There's a good chance of it. He was a part of this land for twenty years. He was a legend while he was still alive. His is the kind of tale that lingers. Sometimes the outlaws get more fame and are better remembered than the lawful."

“All right. Ramirez. Ram. Juan will understand. You can name the next baby."

“That won't be for a while yet."

“Don't you want more than one baby?"

“I want a houseful, but I also want you. We're going to be careful. We can let time pass between each child. I don't want to make you old before your time by keeping you pregnant. We're supposed to live so that we can see our children have children."

“And tell them how to raise theirs,” she added with a smile.

“Exactly.” He looked at her and their son and lightly hugged them both. “Thank you,” he whispered, his lips pressed to her forehead.

“You are very welcome, husband."

Twenty-nine

“Patricia, what are you doing here? Is your house all done?” Antonie asked as Patricia entered the parlor.

“No, but I volunteered to come and help you.” Patricia eagerly relieved Antonie of Ram. “Oh, he's so pretty. Your hair and Royal's eyes. I've always thought Royal has the finest eyes out of all of us."

"Sí,
they are very fine eyes.” Antonie grinned and Patricia laughed. “What have you volunteered for?"

“To watch the babies. Royal wants to take you on a picnic."

“But what about your house?"

“They don't really need me underfoot. Besides, I think Oro just as soon prefers I am not there to gawk at O'Neill when the man takes his shirt off. My goodness, there's a lot of man."

"Sí.
I thought that when I saw him naked."

“When the hell did you see O'Neill naked?” Royal demanded as he strode into the room.

“Oops.” Antonie sent her scowling husband a sweet smile as he strode over to her. “When I had the baby."

“He wasn't naked when I saw him."

“He was only that way for a moment while he washed up and put on clean clothes. Very startling, all that red hair. He wasn't as pale as I thought redheads were supposed to be either."

“I don't really want to hear about this.” He grasped her by the hand and tugged her to her feet. “Now, if I've timed this right, you've just fed Ram."

"Sí,
just finished."

“That gives us a couple of hours."

“Where are we going for this picnic?” she asked as he pulled her along.

“To the swimming hole."

“In the buggy?” she exclaimed even as he helped her into the seat.

“We're going in style today, ma'am."

She smiled and looked away. The idea of a picnic was very nice, but she knew what he was really whisking her off for. Only yesterday she had been declared fully healed by O'Neill. When Royal had not made love to her last night, she had been hurt, not really believing him when he had talked of wanting to wait a little longer to be sure she was totally healed. This was what he was planning even then. Something a little special to celebrate the resumption of the physical side of their marriage. Whenever she felt doubtful about her assumptions, she just had to glance his way. The correctness of her guess was easily seen on his face and in his eyes.

“Here we are, m'lady,” he said as he pulled to a halt at a shady glade near a creek.

Royal played the gallant lover as they ate the food Maria had packed. Antonie loved it. She felt as if she were being wooed. There was also a gentle seduction hidden in his words and actions. It was totally unnecessary, but she loved that too.