CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Calvin~
Carlos was eating in the kitchen of the big house while his wife, Rosa, wandered around directing her staff. She opened her arms when she saw Calvin and he scooped her up for a big hug and kisses on both cheeks.
“That’s my woman you’re mauling, boy,” Carlos drawled from the long oak table.
Calvin kissed Rosa a third time and set her on her feet. “You’re just jealous, because she loves me best. But, tell you what, I’ll arm wrestle you for the best cook in Colorado.”
“And what about my opinion?” demanded Rosa, her black eyes twinkling.
The kitchen staff gasped, but the three of them chuckled at their long-standing joke. Rosa had been the ranch cook for years and Carlos had taught Cal and Luther to ride. Laura and Bethany too. They were both dear to him.
“You hear anything from the hospital?” asked Rosa. “Dr. Freddie just left.”
Calvin shook his head. “I called Steve, but the call went to voicemail.”
“They don’t like you to use your cell phone at the hospital,” said Carlos. He smoothed his mustache. Cal knew he was worrying too.
Rosa put a plate on the table. “Sit,” she urged. “You might as well eat in here, seeing as there’s no one else home.” She waved a hand at a young girl who was probably a niece or the daughter of a friend. Before long Calvin found his plate heaped with what he liked best.
“I don’t usually eat this much at lunch time,” he protested.
Rosa snorted. “You need to keep up your strength.”
“And I’ll bet you don’t spend your mornings playing doctor in a stable in Denver. Eat up, son. There’ll only be more hard work this afternoon.” Carlos filled up his plate again. As much of Rosa’s good cooking as he ate, at past seventy he was still the wiry powerhouse of Cal’s youth.
Calvin dug in. He ate well in Denver. But there was nothing like Rosa’s tacos and her homemade salsa and pork stew. Her food made him feel like a boy again.
“I hear Sissy had twins,” Rosa said.
“She did.” Calvin helped himself to another soft corn taco.
“How did Amber do?” the cook asked.
“Pretty good. No. Better than good. She was right there every time I needed anything. And she spotted something in Bluefield’s record keeping that needs looking into.”
“Yeah?” Carlos put a spoonful of vegetables on his taco and added a scoop of salsa.
“Yeah. Some half-wit at Bluefield’s has been doing a cut and paste instead of transcribing the actual foaling notes. Amber noticed that every mare that’s given birth there has precisely the same set of notes.”
“For the love of Mike,” spluttered Carlos. “That’s plumb loco.”
“Loco is the word. Amber has been reading and re-reading the records on the clipboards. Some lazy son of a beardless goat at Bluefield’s is going to get his,” Cal shot Rosa a glance and bit his tongue, “Comeuppance.”
Carlos shook his head in disbelief. “Bluefield’s has seventy to eighty mares go through their place every year. Even if only some of the records are compromised.” His voice trailed off.
“Yup. No wonder Laura is so obsessive about her records.”
“More stew, Cal?” asked Rosa.
“No, thank you. It was delicious, but I’m done,” he responded. “I’ll just have coffee and head back to the stables. I told Amber we’d go through all the records after lunch and make a list of the corrupted ones.”
“You show me that list when you’re done, son,” Carlos said heavily. “I don’t know what the world is coming to.”
“There’s coconut cake for dessert,” Rosa informed Cal.
Cal groaned aloud. “Twist my arm.”
She beamed. “I know what you like.”
Cal’s phone burbled in his hip pocket. The hum of the staff and the clank of pots being scrubbed stopped instantly. “Hi, Dad,” he said.
“Laura’s had her babies,” Freddie said. “Boy and a girl.”
“I know.”
“There’s many a slip between the ultrasound and childbirth,” Freddie returned dryly. Which given Sissy’s foals was quite true. “Kenneth Luther and Lucy Brenda.”
Kenneth was Steve’s birth father’s name. Luther was Cal and Laura’s brother. Brenda was their mom. “Who’s Lucy?” Cal asked.
“I think they just liked the name. Anyway, the babies are six pounds apiece and they are coming home tonight.”
“Is that safe?”
“It’s normal. Tell Rosa that Laura will be home for supper.”
“Give Laura my love. I won’t come to the hospital if they will be here in a couple of hours.”
“Best not. I’m sure you have plenty to do right there.”
“Tell Laura that Sissy’s foals need call names.”
“I’ll tell Laura when she gets her breath back.”
Rosa and Carlos were wreathed in smiles. Rosa stood up to hug him again and he spun her in a circle. “I’m an uncle,” he cried.
Carlos clapped him on the shoulder. “Who’s Lucy?” he asked.
“My niece. Lucy Brenda. The boy is Kenneth Luther.” His eyes were moist.
“It’s a banner day for the Double B for durned sure,” declared Carlos. “Did we hear right? Is Laura coming home tonight?”
“She sure is. The babies are six pounders. Dad said to tell you they’ll be back for supper.”
It was another half hour before they finished celebrating both the birth and the fact that Laura’s inheritance was at last secure. The birth of Laura’s children had fulfilled the last of the conditions of her great-grandfather’s will. Clive Bascom’s meanness had been thwarted once and for all.
Carlos and Cal headed back to the stud together. They found Amber propped against the wall outside Goldie’s stall reading the mare’s chart. Goldie was twelve years old and had been bred many times.
“Hey,” she said looking between them.
“I’m an uncle,” he told her.
“Congratulations.” Her pretty face was prettier when it was wholeheartedly smiling. “How’s Laura?”
“Fine. She and the babies will be home for dinner.”
“So soon? You must be relieved.”
“I am. Poor old Patrick.” His cousin must feel caught in limbo.
“Stella, Hope, and Bethany are doing as well as can be expected. They’ll go home as soon as they’ve gained a few more ounces.” But her blue eyes glistened.
“They will. I’ll take you back to French Town as soon as they go home,” he promised.
“Thank you.” She swallowed.
“What made you read Goldie’s records?” He patted her shoulder and felt a jolt as he connected with firm round muscles.
“I’m reading them all,” she said. “Starting with the oldest mares.”
“And for why?” demanded Carlos.
“Because they had the highest probability of having been to Bluefield’s multiple times,” she replied. “Goldie’s been five times.”
“And what have you found?” asked Carlos looking pleased.
“Bluefield’s problem started in 2011. Goldie’s 2015 labor reads like her 2012 labor.” Amber flipped through the thick wad of papers. “See. In 2006 her contractions were sluggish and they put her on an oxytocin drip. In 2009, she caught them by surprise. Labor lasted twelve minutes.”
Carlos took the clipboard out of her hand. “And what do you make of that?”
“Bluefield’s problem is clerical,” she said promptly. “Someone in the office is doing that cut and paste thing instead of taking the time to transcribe the actual foaling notes. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“I agree,” Cal said. “I want you to keep reading and make notes as you go. I’m afraid it will take a long while and be very tedious.”
She shook her head. “I won’t find it tedious. It’s pretty exciting. Not twins exciting, but still.” She obviously meant every word because her smile got broader.