Having the Rancher's Baby by Cathy McDavid

out in the direction of the ranch, a good two-and-a-half-mile trek. Typically, they’d have taken the ranch ATVs when inspecting the pastures, but this particular pond was in a hard to reach location, and the vehicles sometimes got stuck in one of the deep ravines. Horses were simply better suited for this terrain.
    Besides, Cole preferred traveling by horse. The scenery on this part of the ranch was spectacular. The distant McDowell Mountains, newly covered in a spring blanket of green cacti and brush, rose up to embrace a glorious, vivid blue sky. Pinnacle Peak, identifiable by its distinct angled shape, sat like a turret on a medieval castle.
    If it weren’t for the exceedingly warm temperatures, Cole would consider this paradise on Earth. No wonder his great-grandfather Dempsey had taken one look at Mustang Valley and decided it was the place to build the ranch of his dreams and raise his family.
    Someday, Dos Estrellas would belong to Cole’s child, Josh’s two and Gabe’s, if he had any. A fifth generation of Dempseys. But only if the ranch began turning a profit again. Otherwise, they’d be forced to sell at a loss, leaving little for the next generation.
    Would it really matter? Money, having plenty or doing without, hadn’t made a difference in Cole’s life. All he’d wanted was a father.
    What about his own child? If Cole left Mustang Valley, he’d be no better than his dad. Was that the legacy he really wanted to leave behind?
    â€œIf the borax doesn’t work,” Joey called to Cole, “Violet has the name of an engineer—”
    â€œDon’t talk to her yet. Let’s give this a try. How long does borax usually take to plug a leak?”
    â€œDays, if we’re lucky. Could be a week or more. May take several tries, depending on the size of the leak. Good thing there’s no rain in the forecast. That will make the pond level readings more accurate.”
    He and Joey continued along the winding trail single file, with Cole in the lead. Several of the mustangs grazing nearby lifted their heads to stare. A yearling colt pranced in circles around his mother, then stopped and reared, front hooves pawing the air. The sight might have been taken straight from history, a hundred years ago when wild mustang roamed this valley.
    Cole’s heart suddenly stirred. That, too, unsettled him. Why should he care so much about Dos Estrellas? It wasn’t home.
    But it was home to the people he cared about. His brother, niece and nephew and, yes, Vi.
    As Cole and Hotshot passed a large patch of prickly pear cacti, a covey of quail resting there took flight, the whir of their flapping wings creating a loud noise. Startled, Hotshot lowered his head and started bucking. Cole immediately drew up on the reins, squeezed with his legs and put all his weight in his heels. Evidently, the horse wasn’t as far along in his training as Cole had assumed.
    Behind him, he heard Joey shout, “Whoa there,” and hoped the kid’s horse didn’t also spook.
    â€œEasy, boy.” With practiced ease, Cole rode out the bucking spree. Bit by bit, Hotshot quieted. Soon enough, he was standing still, sides heaving and nostrils flaring.
    Joey rode up behind him. “Well,” he said, humor coloring his voice. “That was some fine riding. A body might think you rodeoed for a living.”
    Cole grinned and adjusted his cowboy hat, which he’d nearly lost during the minor calamity. Then he and Hotshot walked on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
    â€œYou miss the life?” Joey asked.
    Cole didn’t think before answering. “I do.”
    â€œI hear tell you’re going back.”
    That had been the plan. “Might. It all depends.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do about a roping horse?”
    Cole decided Joey wasn’t being rude so much as he was curious, or simply killing time. It was no secret Cole had sold off his