A Baby In His Stocking (The Buckhorn Ranch Book 4)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Touchy,” Owen said, getting up from the table for another beer. “This something we should know about?”

  “Yeah,” West Graham piped in, “what happened to the blonde you had hanging all over you less than an hour ago?”

  Wyatt shrugged. “Starla was starting to get too serious.”

  Owen, a hulking former Weed Gulch and then University of Oklahoma offensive lineman, opened his beer. “Yeah, but you could have had a lot of fun with her on the way to full-on serious.”

  “Well, I didn’t feel like having fun with her anymore,” Wyatt grumbled. “Are we here to play or what?”

  Owen’s eyes widened. “All right, man. Jeez, what’s wrong with a little fun, is all I’m saying.”

  “I don’t know.” In truth, Wyatt did know, but he wasn’t about to spill the secret he hadn’t even shared with his brothers. He tossed chips into the center pot. “I’m in and raise you five.”

  West, one of Weed Gulch’s finest fullbacks, tossed in his chips, as well. “Sounds like someone’s trying to change the subject.”

  “Not at all.”

  Owen added his chips to the pot.

  “I’m just tired of chit-chat when I need to focus on taking you two for all you’re worth.” Not to mention getting his mind off Natalie’s kiss.

  IN HER TEDDY-BEAR-THEMED office Monday morning, Natalie nursed a Sprite while making notes for the school’s upcoming fifth-grade assembly on setting future goals. Before losing the kids to middle school, she drummed into them the importance of choosing a path and then following it. Ironic, in light of the mess she’d managed to make of her own life.

  She nibbled a saltine, wishing the computer screen would quit swaying with each rush of nausea. How did she get the memo to her body that morning sickness was supposed to be gone by her second trimester?

  Realizing she wasn’t going to make it through reading the next sentence, Natalie dashed for the bathroom. She’d just rocked back to sit on her heels when Cami Vettle, the school secretary, pushed open the door.

  “You ever going to admit you don’t have a perpetual flu?”

  Managing a sad laugh, Natalie said, “Is it that obvious?”

  “To me. But then I spend five mornings a week with you. Who’s the daddy?”

  “If I had an ounce of energy—” Natalie rested her head against the cool, tile wall “—I’d jump up from here to smack you.”

  “I figured it was that gorgeous UPS guy,” Cami said while passing a paper towel beneath cold water, “but you never know.”

  “Seriously?” Natalie groaned in pleasure when Cami placed the towel on her forehead. “You, of all people, know Craig’s the only guy I’ve been with for the past three years.”

  After helping Natalie to her feet, Cami said, “When are you getting married?”

  “We’re not. The day after I told him our blessed news, he applied for a transfer. I never thought he’d really go, but voilà, five months in and baby’s daddy up and moved to Miami.”

  “Oh, no.”

  Returning to her office, Natalie stretched out on her sofa.

  Cami ruined Natalie’s temporary peace by asking, “What are you going to do?”

  In the months she’d had to ponder her situation, Natalie had given that particular question a lot of thought. She’d always wanted to be a mom. Sure, in her little-girl fantasies she’d been happily married when giving birth, but that didn’t change the fact that, as much as Craig wanted nothing to do with their child, she looked forward to holding her baby in her arms. “I’ll do the only thing I can—raise my child on my own.”

  “What do your parents think?”

  Nausea struck again. “It’s my fervent prayer they’re not as observant as you.”

  THAT AFTERNOON, NATALIE felt much better. She’d managed to eat a little lunch and now stood in the empty auditorium, facing the twenty baskets lining the edge of the stage. She’d already rolled clothes, tying them with ribbon. Now she needed to add food, gift certificates from local merchants, books and toys.

  The task she usually enjoyed felt daunting. One thing she hadn’t expected with pregnancy was to be so tired. Not just the kind of slump fended off with coffee, but a deep-down exhaustion that clung to her shoulders, weighing her down. Moodiness was another symptom she hadn’t expected. Everything from a dead fly to a Hallmark commercial made her cry.

  She’d never been a fan of formfitting clothes, so hiding her condition for so long had been easier than she’d thought. That said, much more moodiness and it’d be her hormones giving her away rather than her baby bump.

  “Hey,” Josie’s voice echoed through the lofty space. “Cami said I’d find you in here.”

  “Are your kids in art?”

  “Yep. I should be grading, but yesterday’s sugar has me feeling hungover.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  Familiar with the basket drill, Josie stepped up to help. Tucking canned chili between pint-size blue jeans and a puzzle, she said, “Cami told me you were sick again this morning. Also that you let her in on your secret. What prompted you to finally share your news?”

  “I didn’t. Turns out she’d guessed a long time ago. Anyway, it’s not like I can keep my baby a secret much longer.”

  Josie attacked Natalie with a hug. Then she grabbed some more cans of food. “Have you been feeling any better?”

  “No. I’m tired, cranky and my body refuses to choose between ravenous or nauseous.”

  From down the hall in the choir room came muted singing.

  Natalie pressed her palms to her suddenly throbbing head.

  “Honey,” Josie asked, setting her cans on the stage floor, “what’s wrong?”

  Tears sprang hot and messy from nowhere. For weeks, Natalie had tried controlling her panic, but something about holding sweet Esther and that surprise dreamy kiss with Wyatt and then getting sick had her hormones about as stable as a four-wheeler on a potholed dirt road. “I—I thought I could be strong—you know, raising this baby on my own, but I’m scared.”

  “Everything’s going to be okay.” Being wrapped in another of Josie’s warm hugs should’ve made Natalie feel better, but if anything, her friend’s kindness only served as a reminder to how easily she’d given her heart to Craig only to have him crush it like a recyclable aluminum can. “Sweetie, you know I’ll be here for you every step of the way. Heck, our house is big enough to hold half the county. If you have this baby and feel overwhelmed, move in with us and we’ll all help out.”

  Her friend’s offer brought on fresh tears. “Why couldn’t Craig have been as perfect as you?”

  Josie laughed through her own tears. “Wish I knew. I’d offer to drag him back and knock sense into him, but one of these days, if and when you’re ready, you can do much better in the man and baby-daddy department. I want you to find someone as dreamy as Dallas. Not just for emotional support, but the little things like helping with late-night feedings and deciphering all those mysterious burps and coos.”

  Sighing, Natalie broke Josie’s hold to pace the center aisle. “I’m happy for you and Dallas—really, I am—but as much as I thought you two were made for each other, that’s how much I know I’m done with men. Before Craig, there was Neil. Remember him? The guy who took two dates to the same party? And who could forget Sam? The one who dumped me for a woman old enough to be his mother. Face it, when it comes to guys, my track record is one hundred percent awful.”

  “Granted. Which is why I’ll leave you in peace to lick your wounds.” Josie took a bag of peanut M&M’s from her skirt pocket. She’d suffered an addiction ever since her pregnancy with Esther. What other kinds of baby afflictions did Natalie have in store? Popping a green one in her mouth, Josie added, “But soon, all bets are off. You’re too beautiful inside and out to announce yourself a spinster before you’ve even turned thirty-five.”

  “Stop,” Natalie begged her supposed friend. “I know you mean well, but seriously, when it comes to dating, I’m done.”<
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  Chapter Two

  “Sure this is what you want to do?”

  Wyatt signed off on the last of the paperwork his attorney and friend, Brett Lincoln, had placed in front of him.

  “Yes, it’s what I want to do, but I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t have doubts as to what’s right for the company. Regardless, I’ve got to get out of here.” Here, meaning Oklahoma. Unbeknownst to Dallas, Cash, Daisy or Georgina, Wyatt sat in Brett’s high-rise Tulsa office, signing over the day-to-day running of the Buckhorn oil holdings to his more than capable second in command. Wyatt’s degree was in geology, and he couldn’t think of a more fitting way to get his head back in the proverbial game than to at least temporarily escape. Sooner the better.

  He’d spend the next month or so tying up loose ends and then join forces with a major player in the oil exploration field in Ethiopia’s Rift Valley basin. As part of their team, he’d break down geographical leads, checking everything from source rocks to possible hydrocarbon traps. The work would entail long, thankless hours in miserable conditions. Wyatt couldn’t wait. The task could take years. As far as he was concerned, it could take forever.

  Now, his only problem was telling his mother he wouldn’t be home for Christmas.

  “WE MEET AGAIN.” WYATT didn’t remember Natalie having such amazing curves in all the right places. But then, up until their epic kiss, he hadn’t much thought of her at all. They had always been casual friends. Nothing more.

  “What brings you to Weed Gulch Elementary on such a gorgeous Saturday morning?” she asked.

  “Truth?” he asked with a contagious grin, setting a box loaded with donated goods on one of the tables designated for the day’s rummage sale. “Mom’s more than a little miffed with me, so I’m worming my way back into her good graces by doing her grunt work.” In the week since meeting with Brett, he’d let his family in on his decision to leave. Not only were they all less than thrilled, his mother in particular was flipping out. Apparently, she had no desire for one of her babies to spend a few years in Ethiopia. Go figure.

  Eyeing the still-full load in the back of his pickup, Natalie noted, “You must’ve been really bad to warrant hauling all of that. Doesn’t she have employees for that sort of thing?”

  “Sure, but at the moment, she thinks more of them than me.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Tell me about it. I even got wrangled into helping at the Halloween blowout she and Josie are having.”

  “Me, too,” she said with a wince. “I’m already tired.”

  He laughed, surprised by how easy it was to shoot the breeze with his old friend.

  “Well—” she aimed a thumb toward the kitchen “—I should probably let you unload. I’ve been assigned to brew coffee.”

  Hands in his pockets, he nodded. “Sounds good. Nice talking to you.”

  “Likewise,” she said with a backward wave.

  Fifteen minutes later, the time it took Wyatt to haul all his stuff to its assigned places, Natalie had returned, bearing a coffee urn so tall she could barely see around it.

  “Let me give you a hand.” Wyatt took it from her, carrying it to the area designated for a bake sale.

  “Thanks.” She trailed after him. “That thing turned out to be a lot heavier than it looked.”

  “What are you all raising money for?” he asked, for some unknown reason not wanting to say goodbye.

  “Art and P.E. supplies. Our funding is perilously low. We barely have money for necessities like textbooks and paper, let alone the parts of school kids especially enjoy.”

  “Sounds like a great cause,” he said. “Having always been a patron of the arts, I’ll cut you a check.”

  She cocked her head, “Wyatt Buckhorn, last I remember of you in art class was when you and Owen glued everyone’s colored pencils to their desks.”

  “That was my experimental art phase. It turned out bad. Now, I’m more into the classics.”

  Their shared laugh was nice. Comforting in an odd sort of way. Around Natalie, he’d always been able to be himself. With none of the usual guy/girl chemistry, there’d also never been drama. Granted, their kiss had hardly been tame, but it had been an isolated, onetime thing.

  “Right,” she teased. “Like the classic time you and Owen painted Claremore High’s concrete zebra with purple and pink stripes?”

  “Exactly. See?” he said with a playful nudge. “This generation could learn a lot from an artistic genius like me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “At the moment, they could learn more from your muscles. Want to help lug the cooler and milk?”

  “If you’ll admit what a great stunt that zebra bit was.”

  The grin she shot his way turned his insides to mush. Had she always been so pretty? “Since there aren’t any impressionable young minds around, I’ll admit our rival’s zebra never looked better, but if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

  “Whatever.” He answered her grin with one of his own. “Show me what you want me to carry.”

  Following her into the school, Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder if her backside had always been so juicy.

  In the massive school kitchen, they filled a cooler with ice and kid-size cartons of milk. Wyatt carried it outside, Natalie beside him with napkins and a huge bowl of apples.

  Midway down the school’s front hall, Natalie tripped. As she went down, so did the apples, rolling in bursts of red, followed by an elegant snow of napkins.

  “You okay?” Instantly by Natalie’s side, Wyatt set down his load to help her.

  “I think so,” she managed through a messy sniffle. Crying? Over a few apples? “B-but I made a huge mess and the PTA president is waiting for all of this and—and—”

  “Hey…” Cautious in his approach, he eased behind her, awkwardly patting her back. “In case you missed the memo, you shouldn’t cry over spilled milk or apples.”

  “I—I know,” she said, laughing through more tears while taking a tissue from her pocket to blow her nose. “But lately, everything seems to be going wrong and all I wanted to do this morning was sleep in, but I love helping out with events like this, but I’m so tired and emotional and all because I’m…” Rather than finishing her sentence, she waved her hands around as if announcing her next batch of tears.

  “You’re what?” he pressed, more than a little concerned by her uncharacteristic emotional meltdown. “Sick? You don’t have cancer, or anything, do you?”

  “N-no.” Her answer launched a fresh round of wails. “I—I’m pregnant.”

  As if she’d delivered a physical blow, Wyatt recoiled. “Pregnant?”

  She nodded.

  “Wow. Ah, I guess congratulations are in order.”

  “Thanks.” Though she’d stopped crying, her voice sounded defeated. “Could you please help me with this mess? The apples are going to have to be rewashed.” On her knees, she gathered all of the nearby fruit and napkins.

  “Sure.” Her condition had nothing to do with him, so why were Wyatt’s eyes now stinging? Things like this—random reminders of his own shortcomings as a man—were why he had to get out of Weed Gulch. At times, it seemed as if the whole damned town was turning up in this condition.

  Just after Dallas’s evil twins, Betsy and Bonnie, had been born and their mother, Bobbie Jo, had died, Wyatt suffered his own near death with a hellish bout of mumps. At the time, he’d been holed up in a dorm on an Alaskan North Slope drilling field, knowing there was no medical cure. So he’d stayed in his room, doing his damnedest not to infect others. Best he could figure, he’d caught it from a suspiciously snotty kid at Fairbanks International. A few months ago, during a routine physical, he’d mentioned the incident to Doc Haven, who in turn had worried aloud about the disease being a cause of male infertility. Always having assumed he’d one day have a big family, Wyatt opted to have his “equipment” tested.

  Bad call.

  Ever since, he’d felt like less a man.

  The more b
abies his brothers and sister had, the more of an outsider he’d become. He’d tried to forget about the fact that he’d never have what they had. He’d tried to forget with willing women like Starla. It hadn’t worked.

  Now, with Natalie’s joyous news, Wyatt’s own inadequacies once again slapped him in the face.

  “Think we got ’em all,” he said once her load had been reassembled. “But how about you find a nice place to sit down, and I’ll get this stuff outside.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good. My ego’s more bruised than my body. Sorry about flipping out on you like that.”

  “No problem,” he said on the return trip to the kitchen. “We all have our moments.”

  Standing alongside her at one of the kitchen’s commercial sinks, Wyatt couldn’t stop his mind from racing. He should be home, studying geographical charts. Instead, he wanted to know if that UPS dude Natalie had been dating was her baby’s father. If so, why wasn’t he here with her today? Where had he been at the christening? Had she mentioned they’d had a fight? Most of all, Wyatt wondered why he cared.

  He’d known Natalie forever, yet it was funny how when it came right down to it, they hardly knew each other at all. Not the way it mattered. “You and your baby’s father tying the knot?”

  “Nope.” She quickened her pace, in the process dropping the fruit she’d been trying to wash.

  “But you two have been together for a long time. What’s the problem?”

  Upon placing the last apple in the bowl, she turned off the water. “Short story, Craig had no interest in becoming a father.”

  “What the hell?” What was wrong with that guy? Here, Wyatt would’ve given anything to have his own son or daughter, yet the loser Natalie had hooked up with was running away?

  How is that any different from what you’re doing?

  The thought stung. But Wyatt knew damn well his reason for leaving was far from cowardly. He wasn’t so much shirking responsibility as chasing self-preservation.

  The faint grin tugging the corners of her pretty lips contained the sadness of an abandoned basket of kittens. “Yeah, what the hell pretty much sums it up. Craig initially tried the whole commitment thing, but in the end said he wasn’t ready to be a father and that was that.”