The Rancher's Full House
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Sasha Summers
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Chapter One
“What in the Sam Hill?” Buzz Lafferty leaned forward to peer out the windshield, slowing his crew cab diesel pickup truck and pulling onto the edge of the farm-to-market road. He’d thought today would be like any other day, without any surprises to shake things up. The woman crawling around on all fours on the side of the road told him that wasn’t the case. He rolled to a complete stop several feet back from the bright red minivan, watching the woman with mounting curiosity.
He’d never spied the minivan or, from what he could see of her, the woman before. Granite Falls was small enough that everyone was familiar. Not best friends, necessarily—but acquainted. So, a stranger, especially one crawling around on the side of the road, stood out.
“Any ideas?” He turned to find Roscoe and Scooter, his canine companions, just as curious as he was. Roscoe, a large black-and-white Great Pyrenees-Labrador mix, had his head cocked to one side.
Scooter, a blue heeler, had both pointed gray ears perked up and his stubby tail was wagging as he looked back and forth between Buzz and the woman. He whimpered, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, and rested a paw on Buzz’s arm.
“I know. I know. I’m going.” Buzz chuckled, adjusting his cowboy hat. “Don’t you worry.” He rolled down the windows so the dogs wouldn’t get hot in the truck, turned off the engine and climbed down. “Stay put.” He closed the truck door, knowing full well both Scooter and Roscoe would be leaning out the passenger window to watch what happened next.
As Buzz walked closer, he could hear her talking.
“Come on,” the woman crooned. “I won’t hurt—ouch—you.” She shifted on the ground, shaking her hand, before planting it and scooting forward.
Still a way back, Buzz squatted, scouring the thick underbrush of thistles, ryegrass and enough goathead stickers to make him wonder what or who she was talking to. He didn’t see a thing so he stood, pushed his cowboy hat forward to scratch the back of his head and walked closer.
“I know you’re scared.” She was using a singsong voice, pitched low and soft. “But I’m not scary.” She pulled up her hand again. “Ouch,” she hissed.
He was within earshot now. “Ma’am?”
She glanced back over her shoulder but he couldn’t make out much beyond a tangled mass of brown curls. With a puff of air, the curls lifted long enough for her eyes to be visible. Big eyes. But that was about all he saw. “I need help.” She kept her voice soft. “There’s a kitten...” She pointed into the underbrush. “It’s hurt, I think.”
“Hurt?” Buzz stopped beside the woman, glancing back at his truck. As the only veterinarian in Granite Falls, he’d made it into a mobile medical unit of sorts. If he could get to this kitten, he might be able to help it. “Did you hit it?”
“Me?” Somehow, she managed to sound outraged without ever raising her voice. “No. But it was limping when it crossed the road and I couldn’t just leave it out here.”
“I wasn’t blaming you.” Buzz crouched beside her. “Animals dart out and, sometimes, there’s no missing them. Especially on a two-lane road like this one.” It happened all the time. Living in the country meant wildlife encounters—of all sorts. “It’s back in there?” he asked.
She nodded. “Under that bush, there.” She pointed.
That’s when he saw the ant on her arm. “Ma’am.” He swiped the bug aside, his gaze sweeping the ground. A few feet from where she crouched, there was the telltale hole of a fire ant mound. “Those are fire ants.” He stood, offering her his hand. “Too many bites and you’ll be in a world of hurt.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” She flexed her hand. “Mean little things.” But she didn’t take his hand. “If the bites hurt me, that little guy is in even more trouble than I thought.” She scooted forward.
“Hold up.” It came out a little sharper than he’d intended. “You put your hand down on that and the fire ants won’t seem so bad.” He pointed at a small clump of newly grown prickly pear cactus.
“Killer plants and bugs?” The woman sat back. “What have I got myself into?” The last was so soft Buzz couldn’t be sure he’d heard right. “I can’t just leave the poor little thing. It’s...it’s a jungle out here.”
Buzz had a hard time swallowing back his laughter. A jungle? Cactus and fire ants were just part of Texas. A native would know that and keep an eye peeled for both. Lucky for her, she hadn’t encountered a scorpion or a rattlesnake—both were common in the Hill Country.
“What do I do?” she asked, sounding deflated. “We do?”
“I’ve got a catch pole in my truck.” Not that he’d caught sight of the cause of all this. “Let me get it and we’ll get the little thing out and I’ll take him to my clinic and give him a thorough assessment.”
“A catch pole?” She peered up at him, pushing the hair from her face and giving him his first good look at her. “What sort of doctor are you?”
Buzz found himself momentarily speechless. The kitten rescuer was pretty. Real pretty. Even red-cheeked and sweaty from the heat, he could see that. Finally, he shook his head and cleared his throat before answering her. “Veterinarian.”
“You are?” Her delighted smile revealed dimples. “Isn’t that a touch of fate?” She winced, flicking an ant from her forearm.
“I guess.” He offered his hand again. “Best get out of their path. People have wound up hospitalized from too many bites.”
She took it and scrambled to her feet. “Thank you.”
“Any more?” he asked. “You might want to shake out your clothes a bit—while I get the catch pole.”
As he was walking back, catch pole, small crate, and thick leather gloves in hand, he saw her shaking out her shirt, stomping her feet and tugging up her pant legs. “How many is too many?” she asked him, tugging up her pant leg to reveal an angry red grouping of bites above her ankle.
He frowned, noting the welts on her arm and other hand, too. He didn’t feel too good about the number of bites. Those were just the ones he could see. Likely, there were more under her clothes. “Best get this kitten rescued.” The sooner the better.
She nodded. “It’s there.” She pointed. “Under that little rock ledge, behind those vines.”
Vines, he noted, that looked a whole lot like poison oak. He’d point it out later—after the kitten was safe and she was, too. He knelt, sweeping the underbrush with narrowed eyes. There, in a sliver of sunlight, he spied a patch of tawny fur. “Got it.” But if he missed, the kitten would have to bolt past them and wind up running out onto the road again. He whistled and tugged on his leather gloves. “In case I need backup.” He put the crate by his feet and opened the front, ready to transport his patient to the clinic.
The woman stepped back as Roscoe appeared. His size made him intimidating but he wagged his tail in greeting. Scooter ran around her once in a circle but both dogs wound up at his side. He gave them the hand signal for “herd” before setting the catch pole and moving it slowly, carefully, into the brush toward the tiny ball of fur.
In a flash of an eye and an explosion of leaves and fur, Buzz looped the kitten with the catch pole and carefully pulled the thrashing creature from its prickly hiding spot. It tired quickly, its sides heaving as it gave up the fight and sat, wide-eyed and panting.
“Huh.” He didn’t reach for the kitten. “That’s no kitten, ma’am. That’s a baby bobcat.” A bobcat whose right back leg had a large gash and was so swollen Buzz knew the wound had to be infected. “But you’re right about the limp. Probably hurts something fierce to put any weight on that leg.” As carefully as possible, he drew the catch pole close and reached out one gloved arm. From the looks of it, the little thing didn’t have much fight left in him. “I got you now.” He used his calming voice. “Nice and easy.” He gripped the bobcat by the scruff of the neck and lifted it, keeping it at arm’s length, before lowering it into the crate.
It growled and hissed and aimed one pathetic swat Roscoe’s way but didn’t fight Buzz. The bobcat went into the crate without a struggle. “The little critter is plum tuckered out.” Buzz closed the door and lifted the crate to get a better look at the animal.
“Can I?” she asked.
He held the crate forward, watching the woman’s entire face light up.
“Aren’t you the sweetest thing?” She glanced up at Buzz, smiling. “I’m sure it would thank you for coming to its rescue if it could.”
“I don’t know about that.” Buzz chuckled, setting the crate on the ground to tug off his gloves.
“Well, I thank you.” The woman sighed. “For saving me from the ants and the cactus—”
“And the poison oak.” He tucked his gloves through his belt and nodded at the vines.
Her eyes went round. “Poison oak? Like poison ivy?” She rubbed her forearm.
“Yup. You should get that looked at.” He didn’t like how red the blotches were on her arm. “The sooner the better.”
“I have some Benadryl in my purse,” she offered.
“Even so.” He shook his head. “I’d feel better knowing you’ll get checked out by a doctor.”
She nodded, studying him. “Thank you again, Mister...? Rather, Doctor...?”
He held his hand out. “Buzz Lafferty.”
“Buzz?” Her brows rose but she shook his hand. “Thank you, Dr. Lafferty.”
“You’re welcome, Missus...?” Not exactly subtle.
“Miss Jenna Norris.” She smiled.
“You’re welcome, Miss Norris.” He let go of her hand. “There’s a good doctor close by in my hometown. Granite Falls?”
“I know it.” She nodded. “I just moved there, actually. I’m the new sixth-grade science teacher at the middle school.”
Meaning this wasn’t the last time he’d get to see Miss Norris. “Then I’ll see you around town.” He gripped the handle of the crate. “Feel free to stop by and see the patient anytime you like.”
“Really?” Jenna asked. “I’d like that.”
Buzz wouldn’t mind seeing that smile again. “Other than the fire ants and cactus and injured bobcat, it was nice to meet you.” He reached up and tipped his hat at her.
“You, too, Dr. Lafferty.” Her gaze swept over his face.
“I best head back into town and get this little guy looked at.” He paused. “And let you get those bites taken care of.”
She nodded, waved and headed back to her minivan. Buzz stood, Roscoe and Scooter flanking him, and watched the red minivan pull away.
“That was something, wasn’t it?” he asked, holding up the crate. “You’re one lucky critter.”
The bobcat kitten’s growl was weak.
Not a good sign. “We’ll get you fixed up.” He slid the crate onto the front passenger seat and let the dogs load up into the back seat. “All good?” Roscoe barked, and Buzz closed the passenger door and headed round to the driver’s side. He climbed in, turned on the AC and pulled out onto the road. He chuckled, shaking his head over the newest addition to Granite Falls. “So much for today being like every other day, eh, boys?” Not that he was complaining. He could use a little excitement in his life and something told him Jenna Norris might be just that.
“I’m fine.” Jenna resisted the urge to scratch the bumps covering her arms, legs, stomach and back. “Really.”
Her pronouncement was met with open disbelief by her younger siblings.
“You all wed.” Five-year-old Frances frowned. “Bumpy and wed. Wed wed wed.”
“Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts.” Eight-year-old Garrett pushed his glasses back up his nose.
Yes. “Nope.” She grinned. “But it itches a little.” A lot. “That’s why the cream.” Other than mild irritation, she was fine. But they’d all been through so much that she knew little things like bug bites could set off a panic. Still, this was a teaching moment and, as a teacher, she knew she had to use it. She might not know much about mothering, but teaching? She had that down. “We didn’t have this kind of ant in Kansas so you’ll want to avoid them.” She resisted the urge to scratch. “You see them, you stay far, far away.”
“’Cuz they’re bad?” Frances asked. “Weally bad?”
“Yes. No.” Jenna paused. “I don’t think they’re bad, not really. They’re just...doing what ants do, I suppose.” Which was bite the crap out of you and make you swell up like a balloon.
Thirteen-year-old Monica dabbed a little more calamine lotion onto Jenna’s back. “I think that’s all of them. We could probably connect all the dots to make a picture.”
Jenna frowned. “Ugh. Lovely.”
“I wanna make a pitchew, Jenna.” Frances grinned. “I wanna see.”
“I was kidding, Frannie.” Monica tickled her sister until the little girl was giggling with pure glee.
“What do you guys want for dinner?” Jenna asked, opening the refrigerator. “I guess we need to go shopping.” She nibbled on the inside of her lip.
“Ice cweam.” Frances made her excited face—her eyes and mouth taking on a perfect O and her nose squishing up. “Ice cweam, ice cweam.”
“We can’t have ice cream for dinner, Frannie.” The mix of condescension, disappointment and tolerance was way more dad-voice than eight-year-old voice but Garrett had never acted his age. “Ice cream is for dessert.”
“Or pawties,” Frances argued. “Or boifdays.”
Garrett pushed his glasses back up and gave a long-suffering sigh.
“You can go to the store,” Monica suggested. “I can stay here with Biddy.”
Jenna was determined not to burden Monica with Biddy, their fourteen-month-old sister. “How about we all go? Biddy will be up from her nap soon.” She swallowed, trying to picture all of them at the store together. She was pacing herself with this whole motherhood thing. Not that she was their mother. She was and always would be their big sister. But since their mother’s death, she was now also their guardian.
“Can I get mosh-mel-lows?” Frances asked. “Little ones.” She held up her hand, using her fingers to show the right size.
“Maybe.” Up until four months ago, Jenna had been the cool older sister who showed up, showered her siblings with candy and cookies and presents, took them to movies or parks or on sleepovers and adventures, giving them kisses and fun and a break from the constant sadness of their mother. Jenna had tried to do more—she’d even offered to move home and help out with her siblings on more than one occasion. Every time she offered, her mother got upset, they’d argue and Jenna would drop the subject until her next visit. Now that her mother was gone, she’d replayed those arguments, over and over, and wished she’d pushed harder to come home. If anything, she might have been more prepared to take on this new parenting role she had to play. As it was, she felt like she was pretending. An imposter. Any minute, someone was going to call her bluff and CPS or the state or someone was going to take away her siblings because she wasn’t up to it. She swallowed. I’m up to it. I’ve got this. So far, so good. All she could do was take it minute by minute. “We can get some yummy fruit.”
“Cheese sticks?” Garrett would happily live on cheese sticks and pretzels if Jenna let him.
“Maybe.” Maybe had become Jenna’s go-to word. Telling them no was hard, especially after everything they’d been through. Telling them no felt wrong—even when it was the right thing to do. But saying no was part of parenting. It taught boundaries and, as hours of in-service classes and a semester or two of educational and child psychology classes had insisted, kids needed those. “How about we make a list together?”
Bridget, Biddy to everyone, woke up the minute they’d all gathered around the table, pencil and paper at the ready.
Jenna rested a hand on Monica’s shoulder to keep the young teen from jumping up and assuming diaper-and-baby duty. From what Jenna had gleaned, Monica had been playing mother to her youngest sibling since Biddy’s birth. It made sense, in a way. Their mother had been consumed with depression since Jenna’s stepfather, her siblings’ biological father, had lost his fight with prostate cancer two years ago. “I’ve got it.” She gave Monica’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Go ahead and start the list.”
She left the kitchen of their new-to-them home and walked down the hall to Biddy’s room. “Hello, Biddy-boo.” She flipped on the overhead light. “How’s my little ball of happy?”
Biddy held on to the side of her crib and bounced up and down.
“I see you. You’re standing up, like a big girl. Did you have a nice nap?” She tapped her little sister on the nose and scooped her up. “As soon as we get you cleaned up, we’re going on an adventure. Okay?”
Biddy smiled.
“Excellent.” Jenna nodded, laying Biddy on the changing table. “I know you’ve got all sorts of things to tell me, Biddy-boo. I bet there are so many more words just waiting to bubble up and out, aren’t there?” No matter how hard she coaxed her little sister, Biddy kept her words to a minimum—even for a fourteen-month-old. “And once you start talking, there will be no stopping you.” At least, that’s what Jenna hoped for.
Biddy blinked her big light brown eyes.
“You’ll never guess what happened to me,” Jenna went on, chatting through the whole diaper change. “I met a real-life handsome cowboy. I didn’t think they were real, Biddy. I mean, I know Lizzie is married to one, but how many real-life handsome cowboys can there be? But there he was, in a cowboy hat—which cowboys wear.” She paused. “His name is Buzz Lafferty and he’s a veterinarian. That means he is an animal doctor.”
Biddy blinked again. She didn’t seem all that impressed.
“Anyway, I thought it was lucky he was the one that stopped. He was just who needed to be there today.” She lowered her voice. “He saved that little tiny bobcat and he kept me from getting tangled up in poison oak and cactus and...and who knows what with those damn fire ants.” She paused, wincing. “Oops, forget that word, Biddy. That’s not a good word.” Jenna could envision Biddy clearly enunciating her first word, damn. Jenna shook her head. “He did say we could come and see him and the bobcat—”
“Are we going?” Garrett’s voice startled her so much she almost knocked the box of baby wipes onto the floor.
Jenna turned to find all three of her siblings standing in the doorway. “Since when did you three develop a stealth mode?” She went back to changing Biddy. “Or eavesdropping.”
“It’s not really eavesdropping when the baby monitor is on.” Monica joined Jenna at the changing table. “Is it, Biddy?” She made a face at the baby, earning a bright Biddy smile.
“I guess not.” Jenna couldn’t exactly argue with that logic.
“How handsome is handsome?” Monica asked. “Lizzie’s husband, Hayden, is way handsome.”
Jenna couldn’t argue with that either but she wasn’t sure it was okay to tell her thirteen-year-old sister that Buzz Lafferty was hella handsome. “Handsome handsome,” she murmured, shrugging.
“He saved you fwum the fiwe ants?” Little Frances looked afraid. “Do fiwe ants shoot fiwe?”
“Are they really called fire ants?” Garrett followed up.
Jenna sighed. “Yes. They are.” Why did the insect have to have such a menacing name? It sounded like something out of a cheesy horror or sci-fi movie. “But don’t worry, Frannie, they don’t shoot fire.”
“Then why they called fiwe ants?” Frances asked, looking up at Garrett—who normally had an answer for everything.
Jenna decided telling Frannie the bites burn like fire might worry her little sister too much so she shrugged instead.
“I’ll research it, Frannie.” Garrett was the king of research. If there was a question that needed answering or something he didn’t know, he was always quick to rectify that.
“Okay, Gawett. Thank you.” Frannie smiled up at her brother.
Garrett nodded before turning back to Jenna. “Are we going to meet him? The cowboy veterinarian?”
“No.” Jenna shook her head. Not that the idea wasn’t appealing. It was. Very.
“We should thank him, Jenna.” Monica watched as Jenna snapped up Biddy’s onesie. “You always tell us to thank people when they do something nice for us and he did. We could even make him cookies or a pie or something. He saved you from—”
Garrett cut in, ticking off the list with his fingers. “Poison oak and cactus and the da—”
“Okay.” Jenna scooped up Biddy. “Okay. Let’s not repeat that part.” She bounced the baby. “How about we go to the store and buy what we need to make cookies? We can take them to him tomorrow?” Maybe then she wouldn’t be covered in pale pink patches of dried lotion that kept her bites from itching to high heaven. “Sound like a plan?”
“Yep.” Frances grinned.
Garrett nodded.
“I guess.” Monica shrugged. “Can we make oatmeal chocolate chip cookies? Everyone loves those.”
Jenna nodded, the cell phone in her pocket vibrating. “Everyone get their shoes on and we’ll go.” She watched the three of them scatter and pulled her phone from her pocket. “Let’s see who it is, Biddy.” Seeing Lizzie’s name scroll across the screen made her answer right away. “Hey, you, what’s up?”
“Skylar called and told me what happened. Are you okay?”
“Fine. Covered in calamine lotion so I look like a walking patchwork quilt, but fine.” Jenna bounced Biddy in her arms. “Who is Skylar?”
“Skylar is Buzz’s vet tech. She’s also my sister-in-law.” Lizzie giggled. “You’ll get to know everyone in Granite Falls, don’t worry. What did you think of Buzz? He’s a character, isn’t he?”
“As far as I’m concerned, he’s a knight in shining armor.” Jenna headed for the kitchen, carrying Biddy with her. “Seriously, Lizzie, if I’d known nature was so dangerous in Texas, I’m not sure you’d have talked me into coming here.”
“It’s not so bad. You just have to know what to look for.” Lizzie paused. “You and the kids should come over for dinner tomorrow and we can talk through them all.”
“I’ll think about it. If I’m not all calamined up.” She slid her purse strap up and onto her shoulder. “Right now, I have to brave the grocery store with the whole gang to get ingredients for Buzz’s thank-you cookies.”
“Thank-you cookies?”
“The kids reminded me it’s a thing. A thing I started.” She made a face at Biddy.
“I’m sure Buzz will love them.” Lizzie chuckled. “Let me know if you need anything, will you? I’m sure it’s...a lot. Settling in and the kids and...everything. I’m here, for whatever you need. Anytime, day or night.”
“Thanks, Lizzie.” She waved the kids out the front door. “We should make you thank-you cookies, too. You’re the one that helped me find this job and this house and everything, really.” She locked the door, Biddy on her hip, her phone sandwiched between her shoulder and her ear.
“Ever stop to think I just wanted you closer?”
“Aunt Lizzie gets cookies, too?” Frances skipped down the path to the waiting red minivan.
Jenna gave her the thumbs-up.
“Yay.” Frances clapped. She loved baking or, as Garrett put it, she loved making a mess in the kitchen. “Baking pawty.”
“I hear Frannie.” There was a smile in Lizzie’s voice. “I hope you’ll come tomorrow night. I know the girls and Weston would love to meet them.”
“No promises.” Jenna wanted to make a good first impression—not a speckled one. “I should go.”
“Gotcha. Have fun shopping. Give the kids a hug from me. Bye.” Lizzie hung up.
By the time Jenna had Frances and Biddy buckled into their seats, she was sweating. It was hot, ridiculously hot. So hot her calamine lotion patches were giving way to the dewy condensation forming on her skin. Great. Hopefully, she could make it through the grocery store before she started clawing at her bites. She climbed into the van and immediately blasted the air conditioner, worried about the kids in the heat. Shouldn’t it be cooling down now that the summer months were wrapping up? It felt like they should be in swimsuits, headed for a pool or lake or something. Instead, she’d be starting her new job at the middle school next week. So far, Jenna wasn’t sold on Texas. From the heat to the bugs to the vegetation, it felt like everything was out to get her. She could handle herself but the kids? She didn’t want to think about it. She shuddered, glancing in the rearview mirror at her four precious siblings. No, she’d read up, she’d take precautions—she’d do whatever she needed to keep them safe.
Fire ant bites aside, the high point of their Texas relocation so far was meeting Buzz Lafferty. And, once the bites were better and the cookies were made, she’d be all too happy to visit with the handsome knight in shining armor of a cowboy again.
