Her eyes stung at his tender words, and her heart was near to exploding from her chest. His promise rang true in her ears. A smile tugged her lips as she pressed into the warmth of his embrace.
As long as we both shall live.
Epilogue
Shay pulled the rake, piling the old straw at her feet. When the stall was clean, she set the rake down and rubbed her back, catching her breath. The backache she’d woken with had only gotten worse.
Of course, the chores weren’t helping. If Travis knew she was working out here in the August heat, he’d come home, sweep her off her feet, and carry her right back into the house. But she couldn’t stand seeing him work so hard while she sat on the sofa with her swollen feet propped on the ottoman, watching her belly grow larger.
As if that were possible. She looked down and eyed the protrusion. It seemed impossible she had another week to go. She was already big as a barn.
Abigail hadn’t gotten nearly this big. Her friend had delivered a healthy baby boy three weeks earlier, following a long, difficult labor. Shay had brought Olivia to the hospital and watched rugged cowboy Wade blink back tears as he held his newborn son. Maddy was positively gaga over her baby brother.
A spasm seized Shay’s back, and she froze until it passed. Yeeow. Maybe Travis was right. She shouldn’t be raking out stalls in her condition. She took the rake back to the tack room and replaced a couple tools that had been left out.
The last four months had been busy ones and full of change. After a lot of conversation, they’d decided to move into Travis’s house at the Barr M. With a baby on the way, they needed the extra room. Besides, Shay reminded herself, a house was just a house. Her home was where her family was. Olivia had claimed Travis’s boyhood room, and they’d made it girly with lavender paint and floral rugs. The nursery, adjacent to the master bedroom, had been readied as well.
Soon after Travis’s return, Shay’d had her last name changed to McCoy. Last month Travis had told her he’d like to formally adopt Olivia. When they’d told her, she’d whooped with excitement. The adoption process was now in motion and would be completed soon.
Shay was smiling as she started from the tack room. When she reached the doorway, another spasm arced through her back, wrapping around her abdomen.
Oh.
Her legs wavered under her, and she braced herself against the door frame, her stubby fingernails digging into the splintered wood.
How long had it been since the last pain? Two minutes? Three? Was she in labor?
With Olivia, her water had broken—it was nothing like this. The pain subsided, but she was afraid to move. She reached for her cell and found her pocket empty. She’d left it charging on her nightstand. Olivia had gone with Travis to make his circle, and Travis had only agreed because Shay had promised to stay close to the phone.
Well, I am close. It was only a few hundred yards away. But the distance to the house had never seemed so far.
She was fine now, though. Her legs, though wobbly, could support her weight. She started for the house, making plans to prepare. Her bag was already packed, and Miss Lucy was on alert to expect Olivia overnight if necessary.
She was halfway to the house when another spasm buckled her legs. She sank down to the grass on all fours, gritting her teeth against the pain until she remembered to breathe. She pulled in one shaky breath after another.
Finally the spasm began to recede. It was nearly gone when she heard the clopping of horses’ hooves. Travis was bearing down hard, Olivia a ways behind. He dismounted before Buck reached a full stop.
“Shay!” His face was tense.
Shay pulled her hands from the dry grass, sitting back on her haunches, and gave a dry smile. “I think the baby’s coming.”
“Olivia,” he called over his shoulder. “Run in the house and get my keys.”
“And my overnight bag,” Shay said.
Olivia dismounted nearby. “The baby’s coming?”
“Ready or not.” Shay wiped the sweat from her forehead while her daughter ran into the house.
Travis called Wade and asked him to take care of their horses, then put in a quick call to Miss Lucy.
“What were you doing out here?” he asked when he turned off the phone. “I couldn’t reach you.”
“I was in the barn. The stalls needed—”
His glower stopped her. She put her hands down, preparing to stand, but he swooped her up in his arms and stood.
“I can walk just fine.”
“Yeah, I see that.” He carried her to the truck. As he deposited her gently on the seat, another contraction overtook her.
Pain ripped through her abdomen. Her breath caught in her lungs, the pain stealing all voluntary function.
Travis took her hand. “Breathe, baby. Breathe.”
She sucked in a tremulous breath and blew it out.
“Again,” he said. “That’s it, you’re doing great.” He pushed the hair off her face and crooned gently until the spasm passed.
Shay took a cleansing breath and opened her eyes. “They’re getting closer.”
Olivia arrived with the keys and bag. “Here, Daddy.”
“Hop in, kiddo,” Travis said. “Your baby brother or sister is in a hurry to meet you.”
Shay sagged against the hospital bed, her muscles still quivering. The nurse had their baby boy in the bassinet and was doing all the newborn procedures.
Travis pocketed his phone and perched on the bed, facing her. “My parents said to tell you congratulations. Dad got all choked up when I told him the name. He was honored.”
They’d decided on Austin Wyatt McCoy, Wyatt after his dad. “Think they’ll come back soon for a visit?”
“Mom said they’ll come next month one way or another. It’s killing her that she can’t be here.” Travis brushed Shay’s hair back from her damp forehead. “You did so great, sweetness.” He kissed her, his lips lingering for a long second. “You amaze me.”
She choked back a laugh. “Sorry about, you know, all the yelling. I didn’t mean a word of it.” Truth be told, she didn’t remember much of what she’d said.
Travis smiled. “I sure hope he doesn’t have your temper.”
As if on cue, their baby boy let out a screech.
“Uh-oh,” she said.
One of the nurses raised her bed while another bundled their baby in a hospital blanket and brought him over.
He was light as a feather in Shay’s arms. She cradled him against her, shushing him.
Travis leaned in, smiling at Austin’s red, wrinkled face.
“It’s okay, little guy,” Shay said. “Mama and Daddy are here.”
The infant hushed his crying, searched for the voice, and fastened his glassy blue eyes on Shay. He had a healthy patch of Travis’s dark hair, but the shape of his eyes was all Shay. He was beautiful. A wonderful mixture of the two of them. Love for this tiny being filled her to overflowing, making her eyes burn.
Travis touched the baby’s hand with his finger. “He’s so perfect. Look at his tiny hands, his paper-thin nails . . . his little nose . . .” The baby’s eyes swung toward his dad, and Travis smiled. “He knows my voice.”
Shay moved the bundle toward him. “Your turn, Daddy.”
Travis took Austin with utmost care, his eyes never leaving his son’s face. His eyes filled. “I can’t believe I have a son,” he said, blinking back the moisture.
Shay set her arm on Travis’s and squeezed. The labor had been hard, but worth the reward. So worth it.
“Knock knock,” the nurse said, peeking in. “Big Sister’s out here, eager to meet her little brother.”
“Oh, send her in,” Shay said.
Olivia moved into the room tentatively.
“Come on in, kiddo.” Travis turned on the bed. “Meet your little brother.”
Olivia reached out and touched his cheek with the back of her hand. “He’s so little . . . and he has so much hair.”
“Want to hold him
?” Shay asked.
Olivia nodded. “I already washed my hands.”
Shay had her sit in the nearby chair, and Travis placed the bundle in her arms.
“What do you think?” Travis asked, squatting beside her.
“He’s light. His eyes are so blue. Will they change color?”
“Probably,” Shay said. “Maybe they’ll turn brown just like yours.”
“Or gray like Dad’s.” She looked down at Austin and smiled. “Hey, baby brother. I’m your big sister, Olivia.”
Austin made a funny little peep, and Olivia chuckled.
A knock sounded on the door. “It’s just us,” Abigail said.
Shay adjusted her covers. “Come on in.”
“We won’t stay—we just want to take a peek.” Abigail and Miss Lucy entered the room. They went straight to the chair where Olivia sat with the baby.
“Oh, Shay, he’s beautiful,” Abigail said. “He favors you, Olivia.”
“He does,” Miss Lucy said. “And Big Sister’s doing such a good job holding him.”
“Have you been here long?” Travis asked.
“Are you kidding?” Abigail said. “You no sooner called and told us you were in labor than we heard a squall coming from the room.” She gave Shay a mock glare. “I’m trying not to hate you.”
Shay shrugged, all innocence. “He was in a hurry.”
“All right, Mama,” the nurse said as she entered the room. “Time to feed baby McCoy.”
“Awwww . . .” Olivia pouted as she handed over her brother.
Abigail gave Shay a peck on the forehead. “I’m happy for you, friend.”
Miss Lucy kissed Shay’s cheek. “Congratulations.”
Where would she be without her elderly friend? “Thanks for praying for me, Miss Lucy.”
She patted Shay’s hand. “Always, dear.”
Miss Lucy hugged Travis, then framed his face and whispered, “See? It all worked out—just as God intended.” She gave him a big hug, patting his back.
Abigail and Miss Lucy left, promising Olivia a late supper. The nurse placed Austin in Shay’s arms, and her son latched onto her.
“Well, that was easy,” the nurse said, chuckling. She showed Shay how to position her arms to prevent fatigue and gave her a few reminders. “If you need anything, just press the button.”
“Thanks, I think we’re fine.”
When she left, Travis perched on the edge of the bed and stared in wonder at his son. Soon Austin fell asleep, and Shay propped him against her shoulder. Travis scooted beside her, gathering her in his arms.
As she patted the baby’s back, Shay thought back over what she’d heard Miss Lucy say. “What was all that about—what Miss Lucy said?”
Travis looked into her eyes, nostalgia sweeping over his face. “Back when I discovered what happened with the wedding, I called her. I was a little frazzled. I mean, I loved the idea of being married to you, but I knew you were gonna blow a gasket.”
“I didn’t blow a gasket.”
Travis tilted his head and gave her a look.
“Okay, maybe a little.”
“Miss Lucy said it would all work out as God intended.” His eyes grew serious, and a smile played at the corner of his lips. “She was right.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple.
His breath was warm on her skin. “I couldn’t be happier, Shay,” he whispered.
She drank in the love that shone from his eyes. “Me neither.”
Travis pulled her close, and she nestled in the safety of his arms. Outside the window, night fell. A heavy drape of blue fell slowly over the Gallatin Range, swaddling the valley in stillness.
The
Trouble with
Cowboys
Dear Pushover,
Horse temperaments differ by breed and personality. A stallion requires a firmer hand. Don’t be afraid to let him know who’s boss.
1
Annie Wilkerson was sitting in the Chuckwagon, minding her own business, when he mosied in. He was with a crowd, of course. He always traveled in a pack—him and his handful of ardent admirers.
Annie opened the menu, propped it on the table, and slouched behind it. The Silver Spurs belted out some country-and-western tune her sister probably knew by heart. The clamor in the crowded restaurant seemed to have increased twice over since Dylan and company walked in. But maybe that was her imagination.
The chair across from her screeched against the plank floor. Finally. John was already ten minutes late. She lowered her menu, smiling anyway.
An instant later the smile tumbled from her lips.
Dylan Taylor plopped his hat down and sprawled in the chair like he owned the table, the restaurant, and half of Park County besides. His impertinent grin slanted sideways, calling his dimple into action—a fact of which he was no doubt aware.
“Annie Wilkerson. Why’s the prettiest filly in Moose Creek sitting all by her lonesome on a Saturday night?” Dylan’s Texas drawl had followed him north, sticking with him like a stray dog.
Ignoring the heavy thumps of her heart, Annie tilted her head and deadpanned, “Well, Dylan, I was just sitting here waiting with bated breath for you to come rescue me.”
He put his hand to his heart, his blue eyes twinkling. “Aw, Annie, don’t tease me like that. It smarts.”
She scowled at him and settled back in her chair, propping the menu between them. “What do you want, Dylan?”
“Maybe just the pleasure of your company.”
“Maybe you should find another table.”
He tsk-tsked. “So cruel. You wound me with your hurtful words.”
If Dylan had a heart, she was sure it was unwoundable. Made of something springy and elastic that sent oncoming darts bouncing off. Typical cowboy.
She skimmed the menu, unseeing. “That seat’s taken.”
“Your sister joining you?”
Like she couldn’t possibly have a date? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His hands went up in surrender. “I was hoping to join you.”
“I have a date.”
His head tipped back slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ah . . . who’s the lucky guy?”
“What do you want, Dylan?”
He tilted the chair onto its back legs, and she found herself wishing it would fall. But that kind of thing never happened to men like Dylan.
“I have a proposition,” he said, his eyes roaming her face.
Her cheeks grew warm and she hated that. Cursed Irish blood and fair skin. She swore he said things like that on purpose. She focused on the menu. On the photo of barbecue ribs that were actually better than they looked.
“Not interested.”
“Now, come on, give me a chance to explain. It’s business—not that I’d have any problem picking up socially where we left off last time . . .”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “There was no last time.”
“Whatever you say, sugar.”
She gritted her teeth and slumped until she could no longer see him over the menu.
“In all seriousness,” he said, his voice dropping the teasing tone, “I got a horse that needs help. Wondered if you’d drop by next week and take a look at him.”
Oh no. She wasn’t stepping foot on Dylan’s property again. Not after last time. “I’m busy next week.”
“It’s my best horse—Braveheart. He’s got moon blindness.”
“I’m not a vet—have Merle look him over.”
“He did.”
There was something in his voice she couldn’t define and didn’t care to try.
“He thinks I ought to put him down.”
Annie lowered her menu. Dylan’s dimple was long gone. “Is he blind?”
“Not completely. But he will be. Started bumping into things in the spring, and by the time it was diagnosed, it was too late. He’s not himself now. Spooks easy, won’t let anyone near, not even me.”
His eyes pulled her in. She’d never seen
him without that cocksure grin, much less with that sober look in his eyes.
Careful, Annie.
She looked away, toward the dance floor where her best friend, Shay, was dancing with her husband. They moved like two pieces of the same puzzle. She wondered how long it would take that cowboy to erase the pretty smile from her friend’s face. In her experience, it wouldn’t be long.
“Annie . . . ?”
She pulled her eyes from the couple. “There’s a trainer over in Sweet Grass County, Roy Flint. He’s supposed to be really good. I’ll get his number for you.”
“I don’t want him. I want the best. I read your column; you know what you’re doing.”
Brenda Peterson appeared tableside, flashing a bright smile. “You two ready to order?”
“We’re not together.”
“Large Coke, please.”
They spoke simultaneously, and Annie glared at Dylan as Brenda walked away with her menu—never mind that she hadn’t ordered yet.
Dylan propped his elbows on the table. “I can’t put Braveheart down, but he needs a lot of work, and I don’t have the time or expertise.”
Annie leaned back, putting space between her and those puppy dog eyes. She was a sucker for a horse in distress, but if she was at Dylan’s place for days on end, she’d be the one in distress. Besides, getting him to pay up last time had been like collecting pollen from the wind.
“You’re right,” Annie said. “It is going to take a lot of time— time I don’t have right now.”
He leaned in, trained those laser-precision eyes right on her. Heaven have mercy, it was easy to see why he made women lose their wits. What was God thinking, combining all those rugged good looks with cowboy charm and tossing in dimples for good measure?
“I want you,” he said.
The double meaning—intended or not—was a needed reminder. She pulled the napkin from the table and spread it across her lap. “Roy can help him, I’m sure of it. I’ll get his number for you Monday.”
Someone nearby cleared his throat. John Oakley had somehow arrived unnoticed, thanks to Dylan’s annoying habit of usurping her every thought.
“Hello, Annie.” John bent and placed a kiss on her cheek.
Big Sky Romance Collection Page 47