The Gentrys: Cal Read online

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  Contents:

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

  Epilogue

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  News Flash: Local Celebrity Involved in Fatal Accident

  Gentry Wells native, Callan A. Gentry, suffered critical injuries last week when a pickup trying to evade Fort Worth police sideswiped his van. Gentry's wife, Jasmine, and the driver of the pickup were killed in the accident. Gentry's daughter, four-month-old Kaydie Ann, escaped injury.

  A world-renowned stock-car racer and winner of several titles, Gentry inherited a partial ownership in the family ranch twelve years ago after his parents disappeared at sea and were presumed drowned. Gentry graduated from Gentry Wells High School and went on to attend the University of Texas in Austin.

  Gentry's condition continues to be listed as serious. A spokesperson for Harris Methodist Hospital in Fort Worth declined to confirm or deny rumors that he will face permanent disability. Speculation from sports media sources has centered on the possibility that Gentry may be forced to abandon plans of returning to the racing circuit next season.

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  One

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  Two months later: Gentry Ranch, Texas

  No doubt about it. Cal Gentry had finally found something he couldn't handle. He was in way over his head.

  He cringed once again at the baby's wail and wondered why on earth his daughter wouldn't stop crying? Holding her loosely in one arm, Cal contemplated his options. With his movements restricted by having to use a crutch for a bum knee, the choices were quickly disintegrating.

  Cal jiggled the tiny screaming bundle once more and limped back and forth across the front room of the cabin they were temporarily calling home. The solution to quieting his child seemed more elusive than ever, and his head hurt from worrying about her. Soon he would probably drown in her tears.

  He cursed his rotten luck. First, at losing the baby's new nanny this morning—as she'd been the one person who seemed able to settle the child down when she was fretting. And second, because the family's attorney in Gentry Wells, Ray Adler, had been sympathetic but didn't offer much hope for a quick fix. And Cal needed a solution—now.

  A loud knock suddenly came from the front door and Cal grimaced. It had to be one of his family come to check on their welfare. Dang, but he hated to look so incompetent and foolish in front of them, almost as much as he hated to go to the main ranch house and face the sad memories and his own glaring lack of independence.

  The knocking grew more insistent and a bright new thought occurred to him. What if Ray had been wrong and it had only taken a few hours to locate a replacement for Mrs. Garcia?

  Cal inched toward the front door as fast as his useless leg would let him. When he got there, it took a minute to lean the crutch against the wall, shift his weight so he could stand alone, and rearrange the baby to ensure she wouldn't squirm out of his grip. As he accomplished it all, the thought that the person knocking must be someone sent to be the baby's nanny became more and more plausible in his mind. He eagerly threw open the door.

  Before him stood one of the most exotic and beautiful women he'd ever beheld. Cal couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips.

  After he'd swallowed a couple of times and managed a second look, he realized that the gorgeous Mexican-American woman on the doorstep also appeared somewhat haggard. In her mid-twenties, she appeared to be a little older than his sister. The worse-for-the-wear clothes she wore hung loosely on her ultra-thin frame. Her shoes were filthy, dust and mud clung to them like she'd walked both through shallow puddles and the deep Texas dirt.

  Aside from her weary-traveler appearance, she was downright spectacular. Warm-chocolate eyes with golden highlights stared out of a perfect heart-shaped face. Her expression was laced with a kind of soul-searching starkness.

  But her skin, the color of golden honey, looked as smooth as a brand-new fiberglass paint job. She'd pulled back her long, shiny black hair into an untidy ponytail. The strands resembled spun silk where they flew loose around her face.

  "¿Señor? I saw the smoke from your chimney. Excuse the interruption but…"

  The musical sound of her voice rising above the baby's cries broke into Cal's stupor.

  "Thank God you've come!" he shouted at her over the din. "Come in. Hurry!"

  Snatching up his crutch again, he shuffled aside to allow her to enter. She hesitated and looked at him with a puzzled expression, but finally began to step inside.

  When she'd taken only a few tentative movements to cross the threshold, those beautiful limpid eyes focused on Kaydie. "What is wrong with the little one?" she asked.

  "Wrong? I have no idea. I don't know what she wants. I can't make her stop screaming." He shoved the baby in her direction. "Here, you see what you can do."

  Suddenly the extraordinary eyes he'd been concentrating his whole attention upon flashed angrily. "You do not treat a baby in that way," she fiercely announced.

  "It's not my fault," Cal began as he released his child into the woman's arms. "I am not equipped…"

  Immediately she cradled Kaydie in her arms and placed a soft kiss against her forehead. "Madre de Dios!" she exclaimed, interrupting his excuses. "Pobrecita. This child is muy caliente."

  Cal thought that meant that Kaydie felt hot. But he wasn't sure, and all he really wanted was to make her screaming come to an end. "Will kissing her make her stop that squalling?"

  "Do you know nothing about children?" the woman muttered. "Putting my lips to her hot skin tells me this baby is burning up with fever. And you do nothing for her but complain about the crying?" Her gorgeous brown eyes were shooting sparks of anger in his direction.

  "Hey. That's not fair. I'm not—"

  "Have you called her doctor?"

  Cal shook his head. "We just moved here, and she was fine this morning."

  "And she is what … six months old?"

  "Yes, almost, but—"

  "Where is the kitchen?"

  Cal pointed toward the back of the cabin.

  "We shall see what we can do," she said, and rushed off carrying the baby in her arms.

  Cal stood at the open front door and stared after her. What had just happened here? The strange but spectacular-looking woman wasn't dressed like any nanny he'd ever seen, and she'd never actually said she was a nanny, either.

  It suddenly occurred to him that he'd just handed over his daughter to a total stranger. He stepped out to look around the cabin's empty yard and began to wonder who this rather prickly and hotheaded woman might really be.

  And who had brought her all the way out here? Come to think of it, Cal hadn't heard any noises at all that might've been her transportation.

  This morning he'd given Mrs. Garcia the keys to his Suburban when she'd demanded to be returned to civilization, and told her to just leave the truck at the bus station in Gentry Wells. The doctors wouldn't let him drive yet, anyway, and Cal knew it would only take a phone call to his older brother, Cinco, to get transportation or supplies to them whenever necessary. So the cabin's yard stood completely empty of vehicles.

  But how did this stranger get her things out here if she came any other way? He looked around the front stairs and found one bundle that looked like rags tied together. The woman had obviously hidden it under some bushes.

  Hmm. This definitely was not adding up.

  She could be an escaped convict or a lunatic or any of a dozen unsavory characters. He'd handed over his tiny daughter to an exotic woman who just might be a crazed maniac. What was the matter with him? Had he been so mesmerized by a pretty face that he'd totally lost his mind?

  Where were her references? How did she get here? His brain finally began working once again. He hadn't even asked the most basic o
f questions. Like what the heck was her name?

  He steadied himself with his crutch and, following the sound of his daughter's cries, he limped toward the kitchen—and some answers.

  Bella Fernandez fought back her irritation at the gringo's lack of sympathy for the sick baby girl. She'd come begging for a little help and compassion for herself. But when she'd seen his seeming ignorance and confusion over the helpless child, righteous indignation got the best of her.

  That had always been one of her worst faults, she sighed. Stepping in and opening her mouth when she should've kept her thoughts and opinions to herself. The current turmoil bringing her to this remote cabin in the United States stemmed from just that same sort of thing.

  She gently laid the baby on the kitchen counter and removed the little girl's dress and diaper. Murmuring to the child as she went, Bella quickly checked her over for any signs that this might be more than a simple childhood fever.

  The baby wasn't convulsing and had no skin lesions, rashes or contusions. She didn't seem dehydrated. Her tears were falling easily, her lips weren't dry or cracked. No yellow appeared in her eyes and she certainly wasn't excessively lethargic or sleepy.

  The swinging kitchen door opened up behind her. "What are you doing to my child?"

  In the bright golden light of the late-afternoon sun streaming through the kitchen window, Bella noticed for the first time what the confused man really looked like. Early thirties, lean but broad-shouldered, his light-brown hair was cut short in back yet hung down over his forehead. Bella felt a crude rush of awakening but wished she hadn't.

  Instead of answering his question right away, she continued examining the baby and studying the man at the same time. She could tell a ladies' man from miles away, and this one was most certainly qualified. His sharp, gray-green eyes focused intently on her. But those eyes also held an underlying potent sexual draw.

  To complete the perfectly dashing picture, full lips and a cleft in his chin softened what would otherwise be a too severely chiseled jaw. That erotic magnetism in his eyes made him look rather devil-may-care and young.

  All in all, his looks succeeded in showing off a thrilling mixture of allure put together with a rock-hard promise of passion. She turned her back to him and concentrated her attentions on the baby.

  Yes, most women would definitely fall under the spell of this charmer. Good thing she wasn't most women.

  Bella's first lesson about charming men came from trying to get the attention of the dashing man who was her father. After she grew up, she became engaged to another charmer—and that one really brought home the point.

  Given a choice, she'd rather stay a hundred miles away from an attractive and lady-pleasing man like this gringo, but right now she saw no other alternative. She would not leave a sick child, no matter what.

  Without turning around, she finally asked a couple of questions of her own. "Do you have a flashlight and a baby thermometer?"

  "What? Why?" He came close and looked over her shoulder. "What's wrong with Kaydie?"

  "I told you, she has a fever. I'm trying to determine why and how bad it might be." Bella never looked up at him, though she could feel his body's warmth seeping through her thin clothes, making her wonder if she might be running a fever, too. "Where is the child's mother?"

  A long, deadly silence followed her question, and Bella realized the baby had quieted down.

  "My wife, Kaydie's mother, was killed in a car accident a couple of months ago." His voice was so hushed, Bella could barely make out the words.

  He laid a firm hand on Bella's shoulder. "Who are you?"

  Keeping both hands on the baby's warm body, Bella turned her head to answer him. "I'm sorry for your recent loss, señor. My name is Isabella Maria Fernandez. But please call me Bella." She managed a half smile, trying to ignore the brushfire he'd ignited inside her with his touch. "Can we have our discussions later? Right now your daughter's welfare should be your first concern."

  "She is my first concern." His fingers dug lightly into her shoulder. "Where are you from, Bella? Who sent you?"

  "No one sent me." Did this man not realize how potentially serious a high fever could be? "Please. I will tell you everything just as soon as I am satisfied the baby is not in immediate danger."

  "What do you know about this kind of thing? Do you have children of your own, or are you a doctor?"

  His hold on her shoulder tightened, and she winced involuntarily. "In my country I am a licensed nurse. I received training in the United States to be what you call a practical nurse." She tried to twist free of his grip. "Por favor, you're hurting me. Let me do what I can for your daughter. Then we will talk."

  He eased his hand from her shoulder, but his six-foot frame towered over them as he continued to keep a steady watch on his daughter. Bella thought he must truly be concerned and aware of his duty to his own flesh and blood, but he didn't seem to know the first thing about how to care for a sick child.

  "Do you have a flashlight and a baby thermometer?" she repeated.

  "I saw a flashlight in this drawer." He pulled open a cabinet drawer and handed her the heavy metal light. "There may be a thermometer in Kaydie's things in the front room. I haven't had a chance to unpack yet."

  He hesitated while Bella coaxed the baby to open her mouth. With one free hand she held the child's head and with the other Bella pointed the light down her throat.

  The father looked as if he wanted to pace the floor, but his obvious leg injuries held him back. "I'll go look through her things for a thermometer. I think the boxes are marked." He took his crutch and began to limp toward the doorway but turned before he'd gone through. "Will she be all right?"

  "Yes. Your daughter should be okay. Her throat looks fine and she doesn't seem to be in as much distress as she was when I arrived. Let's just take her temperature to be sure, though. Okay?"

  The norteamericano father nodded once then disappeared on his mission.

  "Ah, nina," Bella cooed to the child. "What are you doing way out here with a man who can barely help himself, let alone take care of a baby? Why is there no woman to attend to you?"

  Bella had been struck by the lack of emotion in the gringo's voice when he'd mentioned his wife's death. Perhaps he was still so grief-stricken that he dared not even speak of her in case he broke down. Bella knew lots of men in Mexico who would act in that same way. She vowed not to mention the baby's mother again unless he brought her up first.

  Bella felt sure that the fever had already lessened its grip on the child's body. "Kaydie, wasn't it?" The baby's light-blue eyes stared up at her in that curious way some babies had. "Well, Kaydie. Let's see if we can make you a little more comfortable."

  After turning on the water tap, Bella waited a few minutes for the water to reach the right lukewarm temperature. Carefully she placed the baby in the sink, but not directly under the water's stream. Cupping her hand, she put a bit of the water on the baby's chest and tummy, then let the water fill the sink.

  "How does that feel?" she asked in Spanish.

  Kaydie responded by widening her eyes and hiccuping. She seemed to understand the language—or perhaps it was the tone that Bella used. Or maybe the baby just liked the feel of the tepid water on her heated skin. Bella turned off the water faucet and held the baby in the sink while the water turned colder.

  "Are you giving her a bath?" The father's voice startled Bella as he dragged himself back into the room. "I found a thermometer, and I brought her diaper bag."

  "Good. Set the bag down on the table, then come here and hold Kaydie while I take her temperature."

  "Yes, ma'am," he grumbled while he did as she'd asked.

  Bella knew a disgruntled tone when she heard one, but she didn't care. He had an air about him that, like many norteamericano men, said he was powerful, rich and accustomed to getting things done his own way.

  But right now he needed her help. And he could darn well do things her way to get it.

  She d
ried Kaydie off and wrapped her in a clean towel. Instructing the child's father to sit, she placed her in his lap. While he held the baby, Bella stuck the digital thermometer in her ear to take her temperature.

  "You know my name, señor," she asked as she held the thermometer in place. "May I ask for yours?"

  "Gentry," the man bristled.

  When Bella continued to watch him expectantly, this Gentry fellow seemed to realize he had more of a name than just that.

  "Cal Gentry."

  Bella shrugged a shoulder. A nice name, she thought. But not one she'd ever heard before. Cal had said it as though she should definitely be impressed. She wasn't.

  "Well, Cal, your daughter's temperature must have subsided with the cool bath. This thermometer says 101 degrees." Bella put aside the thermometer and lifted the baby back into her arms. "Does she have a change of clothes in that bag you brought?"

  "I guess so." He picked up the bag and scooted it over the tabletop toward her. "I think I saw some clothes in there. But I didn't pack it, so I'm not positive."

  She could've guessed that this father would be unsure about his daughter's care. When Bella had first held her, the baby's pink dress was buttoned backward and the tabs on her plastic diapers dangled dangerously below it.

  She held Kaydie against her left shoulder. With her other hand, Bella rummaged through the duffle. She found powder, creams and antibiotic wipes in one of the side pockets. Inside the main compartment were several changes of clothes, plastic diapers and a few small bottles filled with juice and water. Another pocket revealed baby-strength liquid aspirin substitute, vitamins, a few bottles of rehydration fluid and jars of processed baby food.

  What Bella wouldn't have given for such a fantastic stash when she'd worked with the small bands of Mexican families on the border. She'd been making do with whatever was handy for so long that she almost didn't recognize some of the things.

  Jealousy and curiosity got the best of her. "If you didn't pack this bag, then who did?" she finally asked.