Lord.”
At that moment, the back door of the kitchen opened and Maureen Hollister entered the room. She was dressed in her usual work attire, which consisted of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and cowboy boots. Her chestnut hair was slightly threaded with silver and pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head. At sixty-three, she was ageless and beautiful. She was also the glue that held the Hollister family together.
“Mom, thank God, you’re here.” He crossed the room and latched on to her arm. “You have to come with me. There’s someone in the den waiting to meet you.”
As he pulled her out of the kitchen, Maureen shot him a comical look. “Son, please tell me you’re joking. I can’t deal with company tonight! We’ve been branding calves all day and then one of Holt’s mares, Tootsie, finally decided to give birth. And you know how he feels about that mare—you’d think his own child was being born. And—”
As they headed down a long hallway toward the den, Chandler pulled his mother to a halt. “Mom, I know it’s late. And I know you don’t need anything else to deal with tonight. But this girl—I just couldn’t leave her there at the clinic. She needs rest and a woman’s touch right now.”
Her expression softened. “Oh, Chandler. Don’t tell me you’ve brought home another stray.”
Rather than trying to explain, Chandler gave his mother a tired smile. “Just come to the den with me.”
When they entered the long room, Roslyn was sitting in an armchair with her back to them. But as soon as she heard their footsteps on the parquet floor, she rose to face them.
“Oh, my!” Maureen gasped. “You’re a woman!”
“What were you expecting, Mom?” Chandler asked wryly.
She slanted Chandler a reproving look. “A dog with pups. Or a pregnant cat. Or a mother raccoon with her kits.”
Leaving her son’s side, Maureen rushed over to Roslyn and reached for her hands. “Hello. I’m Maureen Hollister,” she said, introducing herself. “And you are?”
She smiled tentatively at his mother, “I’m Roslyn DuBose,” she said, then cast Chandler a hopeless look. “And I’m sorry to interrupt your evening like this. I tried to tell your son that I’d be an intrusion, but he insisted on bringing me out here.”
“Roslyn has been driving for long hours and she had a little fainting spell,” Chandler explained. “I thought she needed a quiet rest where someone would be around if she experienced another light-headed spell.”
Roslyn continued to look apologetic and Chandler wondered if she was unaccustomed to asking people for help. Or maybe she simply felt awkward because she was among strangers. Either way, Chandler wanted her to trust him and his family. She needed to understand she was safe here.
She glanced at Maureen. “I could’ve gone to a motel, Mrs. Hollister, believe me.”
Maureen immediately wrapped a supportive arm around Roslyn’s shoulders. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad that you didn’t. You’re not in any condition to be staying by yourself. And company is always welcome here at Three Rivers. Did you bring a bag with you?”
Before Roslyn could answer, Chandler said, “I left it at the stairwell. I’ll carry it upstairs. Which room?”
“The one across from Vivian’s old room should be fine. I believe Jazelle freshened it up only a few days ago.”
Maureen urged Roslyn forward and Chandler followed them out of the room and into another hallway that intersected with a wide staircase.
“Where’s Blake and Katherine and the kids?” Chandler asked his mother as he picked up Roslyn’s case and proceeded to climb the steps behind the two women.
“You never know what time it is, Chandler. It’s late. They’ve retired for the night,” Maureen answered. Then she explained to Roslyn, “My oldest son and his family stay on the third floor. They don’t want the twins crying to disturb the rest of us.”
“Hah! That’s just an excuse to get away from all the noise we make down here,” Chandler said jokingly, then tossed another question at his mother. “If it’s so late, what’s Reeva still doing in the kitchen?”
“Tessa and Joe and Little Joe came over for dinner, so Reeva made several extra dishes. I couldn’t help her with the cleaning up because Holt called me down to the foaling barn.” She glanced over at their houseguest. “Just a regular night on the ranch, Roslyn. Around here, you never know what’s going to happen next.”
On the second floor, they walked halfway down a wide passageway to a partially open door and entered a bedroom decorated in reds and browns and furnished with a queen-size bed and a large chest made of knotty pine.
Chandler said, “If the room looks masculine, Roslyn, that’s because this used to be Holt’s room. He moved downstairs a few years ago.”
“During foaling season Holt is called out at all hours of the night,” Maureen explained. “And as our resident vet, Chandler usually has to go with him.”
“But even when it’s not foaling season, Holt is coming home at all hours of the night,” Chandler added with a sly chuckle.
Maureen let out a good-natured groan. “Chandler, our guest doesn’t want to hear about the playboy of the family.”
“No,” he agreed. “She needs for us to get out of here and let her rest.” He placed Roslyn’s bag on the end of the bed.
His mother gestured toward a door in the far left corner of the room. “There’s a private bath there with a shower. You should find plenty of towels and things. And if you get chilled in the night you’ll find extra blankets in the closet. Now with that settled, are you hungry?”
“Thank you. I’m fine. Dr. Hollister gave me a chicken leg and a carton of yogurt.”
Maureen rolled her eyes. “First of all, he’s not Dr. Hollister around here. You’d better call him Chandler, or Doc, or Bones, or something like that, so we’ll know who you mean. And secondly, a chicken leg and a bit of yogurt does not qualify as a meal. Especially when you’re eating for a little one, too. I’ll bring you some of the leftovers from dinner.”
Chandler gave Roslyn a wink. “You probably ought to listen to her. She’s had six of us.”
“I’m not an expert on carrying babies, but by the time Camille was born, I felt darn close to it,” Maureen said with a chuckle, then reached for Chandler’s arm. “Come on. Let’s leave Roslyn alone so she can get comfortable and ready for bed.
She tugged Chandler out the door and didn’t let loose of his arm until they’d reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs.
Deliberately lowering her voice, she said, “Okay. What’s going on? You’ve brought home plenty of things over the years, Chandler, but never anything like this!”
He glanced up the stairs just to make sure Roslyn hadn’t followed and could hear them discussing her. “Well, it’s pretty simple, Mom. When Trey and I returned to the clinic tonight, Roslyn’s car was parked near the front of the building.
