Prologue
8:32 p.m., May 14, 1946
“Bear down, Eleanor!” Delia, a nurse practitioner from Jackson, coached the birth from the foot of Archie and Nelsie Chance’s marriage bed. “This little tyke’s a stubborn one.”
Archie gripped his wife’s hand. “Not as stubborn as my wife,” he said with pride. He’d watched her battle for five hours to have this baby. Her language had grown more colorful, but her spirit had never flagged. He crouched down and murmured in her ear. “Come on, Nelsie-girl. You can do it.”
Nelsie panted and dug her nails into his hand. “Damn right I can. This little shit is going to be born… right… now!” And she let out a yell that would have done a cowhand proud.
Delia whooped. “That does it!” She eased the baby free. “Congratulations. You have yourselves a bouncing baby boy.”
Still clutching Nelsie’s hand, Archie rose to his feet and stared in wonder. The baby was red as a boiled lobster and slippery with goo. As Delia ran a cloth over the wrinkled little face, the baby sputtered once before launching into a series of high-pitched, hiccupping wails. Archie’s vision blurred and his chest tightened. A son. He had a son.
“Archie?” Nelsie squeezed his hand. “Are you okay?”
Clearing his throat, he blinked away tears. “I’ve never been more okay in my life.” He leaned down to give her a tender kiss. “How about you, brave girl?”
“Much better, now.”
“Thank you for having our baby.”
Nelsie looked a little misty-eyed, herself. “My pleasure. Well, maybe not. It was a lot more fun making that baby than having him.”
“I’ll bet.” He kissed her again. “You were great.”
“So who wants to hold him first?” Delia approached with the squalling baby wrapped in a blanket.
Archie had assisted many a calf into this life and a few foals, as well, but holding this baby scared the bejeezus out of him. “Maybe you’d better give him to Nelsie.”
“No.” Nelsie’s voice was firm. “You hold him first, Arch. I want Delia to take a picture. The camera’s on the dresser.”
“Uh, okay.” Archie could hardly refuse after all Nelsie had been through. Reluctantly he accepted the red-faced little kid, who was working up quite a head of steam. “Just for the picture.”
“Support his head in the crook of your arm.” Delia positioned the baby to her satisfaction. “There. I’ll get the camera. By the way, have you picked a name?”
Archie stood frozen to the spot and gazed down at the tiny face, the eyes squeezed shut and the toothless mouth pouring out all that baby anguish.
“We decided on Jonathan Edward,” he said. “Jonathan for Nelsie’s father and Edward for mine.”
“That’s a fine name,” Delia said. “Suits him.”
Archie wasn’t sure. It seemed like a really big name for such a tiny thing. “Shh,” he murmured, jiggling the baby just a little bit, the way he’d seen people do. “Shh, Jonathan.”
As if a switch had been thrown, the baby stopped crying. With a ragged sigh, Jonathan Edward opened his little eyes.
“See?” Nelsie’s voice trembled. “He likes his name.”
“Guess so.” Archie’s chest swelled as he looked into those unfocused baby eyes.
“Hold still so I can get the picture,” Delia said.
Archie didn’t glance up as the camera flashed. That newborn gaze held all his attention. Slowly he began to contemplate something he hadn’t dared think about until now. Life held no guarantees, but with a little luck, this tiny baby would grow into his name. And with even more luck, Jonathan Edward Chance would continue the legacy of the Last Chance Ranch.
Chapter One
Present day
“Josie, there’s a drunken cowboy at the door.”
Jack Chance stared at the tall guy silhouetted in the doorway of Josie’s place. “Who the hell are you?”
“That’s none of your business. Look, Josie closed the bar thirty minutes ago, and besides, you don’t look as if you need another—”
“You’d better not be her boyfriend.” Jack was a tad bit liquored up, but he’d been sober enough to climb the stairs to Josie’s apartment above the Spirits and Spurs without stumbling. He also was sober enough to understand the significance of a guy answering her door at this hour of the night.
The intruder shifted his stance. “And you’d better be on your way, cowboy.”
That’s when Jack noticed the bastard wasn’t wearing shoes or socks. Jack’s blood boiled. How dare this yahoo move in on his girl? True, they’d broken up a few months ago. Okay, ten months ago. But just who did this idiot think he was, standing barefoot in Josie’s apartment like he owned the place?
“Alex?” Josie’s voice came from somewhere in the back of the apartment. Like the bedroom. “Find out who it is, okay?”
Jack clenched his right fist. “The name’s Jonathan Edward Chance, Jr., and Josie Keller’s my girl.” Then he punched this Alex joker smack in the kisser.
Sad to say, it wasn’t much of a blow. Jack wasn’t as steady as he might have been and the guy dodged at the last minute. Failing to land a solid punch, Jack dropped his shoulder and threw a tackle. That proved to be more effective. They both went down hard. Jack lost his hat and a good part of his dignity.
Alex swore and struggled to get free but Jack had him pinned. It was a hollow victory, though, because Jack had knocked the wind clean out of himself.
“What in the name of heaven is going on?”
I’m guarding my territory. The thought went through Jack’s head, but he didn’t have the breath to say it.
“Jack Chance, get off my brother this minute!”
Thank God he hadn’t said it. Her brother? Jee-sus. The back of his neck grew hot as he pushed himself to his hands and knees.
Alex glared up at him. He didn’t look happy. But he did look quite a bit like Josie. Same blond hair, same gray eyes. Come to think of it, Josie had mentioned an older brother named Alex, but he was supposed to be in Chicago, not standing in her doorway barefoot giving the wrong impression, namely that he was fixing to be Jack’s replacement.
“Sorry about that, man.” Jack staggered to his feet and held out a hand to help the guy up.
Alex ignored Jack’s outstretched hand as he stood under his own power. Then he turned to Josie. “I take it you know this jerk, then.”
Josie must have been getting ready for bed. She was dressed in the silky black robe Jack remembered, but her jeans peeked out underneath, so she hadn’t completed the undressing process when Jack had arrived. She hadn’t taken her long hair out of its braid, either. Jack used to love when she did that.
She sighed. “Yes, I know him. This is Jack Chance, the guy I was dating last year.”
Dating. Such a lame word for what they’d had going on. Josie made it sound as if they’d kept each other company during the occasional dinner, followed by a PG-rated movie. Instead they’d spent hours having wild monkey sex in this apartment. Sometimes they’d even used the bed. There wasn’t a piece of furniture in the place that didn’t remind Jack of being buck-naked with Josie.