The Triplets' Rodeo Man. Tina Leonard
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fine. Just checking in.”
His brother hesitated. “Where are you?”
Jack squinted at a sign he was parked under. “Somewhere in the Dakotas.”
“Coming home anytime soon?”
“Not sure.” Jack scratched his head. “Should I?”
“I don’t know,” Pete said, “but I think Pop wants to get married.”
“He does?” Jack blinked. “How?”
“By a minister of some sort, I imagine.”
“But last time I saw him, he was in a hospital.”
“Yeah, and he maybe should still be in one. But Sara Corkindale, his lady friend, keeps him perked up.”
“That’s good news.” Jack really didn’t know what more to say. “When’s the wedding?”
“I believe after he has the kidney operation.”
Jack’s eyes went wide. “You mean he’s changed his mind?”
“She’s changed his mind, more to the point. But I think the window of opportunity is closing.”
Jack got the point. “I can be home in two days. Maybe less.”
“I’ll tell Pop.”
“Hey,” Jack said before Pete could get off the phone, “you haven’t happened to talk to that preacher woman lately? Has she been by to visit the quads?”
Pete cleared his throat. “You haven’t. Why should she?”
Damn. He hadn’t seen them since he’d visited Pete at the hospital. Never held them, never touched them. “Man, I’m sorry. I’m an ass of an uncle.”
“I won’t tell them that,” Pete said, “but I bet they’d like having an uncle around who can teach them how to ride a horse.”
“That’s a few years away, isn’t it?” Jack frowned. Would they even be walking by now? He had no frame of reference for how fast children developed. They’d been in bassinets at the hospital when he’d seen them three months ago—had it been that long already?
“Time flies,” Pete said.
Jack replied, “Okay, what are you hinting around about?”
“Not me,” Pete said. “I’m not hinting about a thing. Would never spill any beans. Know how to keep my mouth shut. You just get home, and everything will take care of itself.”
Jack grunted as the phone line clicked dead. What the heck had that been all about? Starting his truck, he turned due south and headed home to Texas.
C RICKET COULDN’T BELIEVE how ill she felt. Pregnancy was supposed to make a woman glow; all she wanted to do was gag. She couldn’t seem to catch her strength. Priscilla Perkins had sold her house to Cricket when Priscilla married Pete Morgan and Cricket felt at home in her new sanctuary, but she hadn’t felt well enough to enjoy it in the past month. She’d hoped one day to reopen the cute little tea shop that was part of the house, but now she realized her hands were full for the moment. Her life was changing fast, and nothing was ever going to be the same.
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