Buck Me Cowboy: A Secret Baby Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “There you go,” he says, clearing his throat. “You’ll love Colorado, it’s beautiful with majestic mountains and blue skies. Plus, cool this time of year,” he adds fanning himself. “Not like Kansas.”

  I take the ticket numbly, murmuring thanks, and plod through the station, eyeing the fleet of Greyhound buses. They’re huge, steel-grey machines, all lined-up and ready to go at the curb. I board my bus, snagging a window seat. But it doesn’t matter because I won’t be seeing a thing. My heart is destroyed, soul shattered in pieces. And despite everything, all I can see is Tyler’s handsome mug, those gleaming blue eyes and cocky, confident grin.

  He’s the enemy, chants my mind.

  He’s your husband, another voice says.

  He’s your lover, a third voice intones.

  Oh god, have I gone insane? Am I a schizophrenic now, with all sorts of babbling voices running in my head, crossing over each other and driving me crazy?

  But the thing is, the voices are right. Tyler means so much to me that he’s every one of those things, and more. He’s the man whom I’m legally bound to before the eyes of the law. He’s the man who took my virginity, who stroked my secret spaces until I shattered. He’s also man who betrayed my loyalty and trust, the cause of my collapse.

  I burrow deeper into my seat, choking back sobs as the bus pulls from the station. Covering my eyes, hopefully no one will notice the pain, but fortunately, there aren’t too many people on this ride. The closest person is three rows away and I tilt my head back, lids brimming with tears. Oh god! Tyler, Tyler!

  My heart aches, a physical ache radiating through my chest. Squeezing my eyes shut against the sunshine, I will my lungs to keep breathing. The exertion distracts me, because in a matter of minutes, there’s a rough shake at my shoulder.

  “Miss, Miss,” the voice says insistently, coming from far away.

  What? No, leave me in my misery.

  But the voice comes again.

  “Miss,” it says firmly this time. “We’re here. Final stop.”

  Reluctantly, my eyes open, bleary and fuzzy. What in the world? Half-heartedly, I scrub my cheeks, crusts of tears coming away with my fingers. Holy cow, I must have fallen asleep, my muscles are tight and sore, forcing me to stretch just to wake them up. And when my vision clears I recognize the heavyset bus driver. He doesn’t look too happy.

  “This is our last stop,” he grunts before turning away. What? Really? Bolting up straight, I turn to look out the window. But there’s nothing to see but an anonymous bus depot, all gleaming steel and gray concrete.

  “Hello Colorado,” is my soft whisper and sad smile. “Hi, I’m Maisie.”

  Fear flows through me as I make my way off the bus on unsteady feet. This is my new life now. My new home. I have to forget the Double H, and at that, another wave of sadness overwhelms my frame, almost bringing me to my knees. Oh god, how am I supposed to forget? I’ve never known anything but the farm, so what am I supposed to do now?

  But survival instinct forces my feet forwards.

  “Hi, do you know of any hotels nearby?” I ask a lady at the information desk and she points me towards a motel just one mile up the road.

  With my backpack and duffle bag in tow, I plod through the night until I’m at the door of the front office. There’s a light in the window flashing the word ‘vacancy’, so I make my way inside, bone-tired with circles under my eyes.

  “Hi, I wanted to know if you have any rooms available?” I ask the lady behind the counter. She’s slim with weird-colored hair, a flat and monochromatic brown. Plus, her eyebrows are filled in with a dark pencil, and she seems to have used the same color to outline her thin lips.

  But her voice is warm, stirring me out of my funk.

  “No problem, honey. Do you know how long you’ll be here?” she asks and I shake my head.

  “Just a week,” I say in a small voice. “At least for now.”

  “Sure, sure,” she says, looking down at the computer screen, fingers flying. “We’ve got you covered. Here’s a key.”

  And grabbing my stuff, I make my way to my motel room, which is much nicer than I anticipated. It’s small, but it has everything I could need – a queen size bed, a small refrigerator, a television, and a table with a chair. There’s even a small bathroom in the back, with a tub that’s decent-sized.

  Thankfully, sleep comes easily and I don’t wake once throughout the night. But a knock on my room door jolts me awake the following morning, and to my surprise it’s the brown-haired lady from the front desk again.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask sleepily, peering out the door.

  “No, nothing wrong,” she says slowly, taking in my messy hair and bleary eyes. “Nothing wrong, except your credit card was declined.”

  That jolts me awake.

  “I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I’ve never used it before, it’s brand new.”

  The receptionist shakes her head.

  “I know honey, credit card companies are bizarre sometimes. But unfortunately, we’re gonna have to ask you to leave. I was supposed to do it last night, as soon as the decline came through, but you looked so tired.”

  Oh shit, shit. What can I do? Nodding miserably, I turn.

  “I’ll get my stuff,” I mumble, defeated already. “I’ll be out of your hair in ten.”

  But the lady doesn’t leave right away. Instead she stands at the doorway a moment longer, looking me over with pitying eyes

  “Where you coming from?”

  “Kansas,” I say half-heartedly. Not that it matters.

  She takes a deep breath.

  “Listen I had a daughter a lot like you,” she say slowly. “My Katie always had this lost air about her, like she was constantly running. So how about some work?” she asks. “You willing to work for your keep?”

  I turn quickly, eyes flashing with hope.

  “That’d be marvelous, I’d really appreciate it,” is my breathless reply. “I’ll do anything around here. Maid? Washing dishes? Anything at all, I’m really good with my hands.”

  The woman nods slowly.

  “I’m Grace,” she says, extending her hand. “My daughter was Katie, she died last year so I feel like I gotta help. So many girls out there,” she says, shaking her head.

  “I’m sorry about your daughter,” is my reply. “I’m really sorry to hear about whatever it is that happened, but whatever you want me to do, I’d be happy to.”

  Grace nods her head again.

  “Why don’t you start with the laundry?” she asks. “Lord knows even a small motel like us has loads and loads to do every day, sheets, comforters, coverlets, towels, all that good stuff. I’ll show you the laundry room and you can get started there.”

  I nod gratefully.

  “Yes ma’am,” are my obedient words. But as Grace turns to leave, I stop her once more.

  “Can I ask what happened to your daughter? You said she’s gone, can I ask how? I don’t mean to pry,” is my quick refrain. “It’s okay not to say.”

  Grace pauses at the doorstep, still looking down. But then she raises her head to look at me, tears shining in her eyes.

  “My Katie got into the business,” she says slowly. “It was nasty stuff, drugs and working on the street, selling her body. She got taken by a man, a real nasty john, and he beat the shit out of her,” she said, voice breaking. “No matter where she hid, he always found her, and finally, it was too much. He beat the living daylights out of my girl,” Grace says, voice breaking. “My baby girl, my sweet thing.”

  I stop, heart beating in my throat. Oh my god. Grace’s pain must be unimaginable. To know that your child was beaten to death by a random stranger? Some violent criminal who preyed on women?

  But Grace straightens then.

  “That’s why I have to help you,” she says, drawing herself up and taking a deep breath. “When I see a girl like you, on the run, no money and no options, I’ve gotta step in. I can let what happened to my Katie happen to anot
her innocent child.”

  I nod slowly.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it,” are my simple words. My stomach’s in my throat, heart full. Oh god, what happened to her daughter is so awful and painful, no words are enough.

  Grace shakes her head quickly again, turning to go.

  “You just let me know if something goes wrong, hear? You come to me first.”

  I nod.

  “Yes of course. Thank you again,” are my quiet words.

  And with that, the woman’s gone, her painfully thin form limping down the hallway.

  I pause, taking a deep breath, surveying the room once more. I’ve been granted a boon. A get out of jail card that I have to use wisely. Because I have no money, no luck, and no options, but out of nowhere, Grace has agreed to hire me as a laundress at this motel.

  And I’m grateful. After everything that’s happened, what else do I have? I have to make the best of it because I’m a survivor, a fighter, a cowgirl who doesn’t give up. I’ve got to keep going past my husband’s betrayal … no matter what.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Maisie

  Six months later …

  “Colors,” I murmur to myself. “Colors, and whites, and bleach.”

  My hands are busy, chafing and red from too much detergent, but that’s okay. I’ve never been a vain girl, and the work suits me well. Maybe it’s not farm chores anymore, but it’s honest work all the same, and I’m grateful to have it.

  “Blues, greens, and a yellow,” are my refrain. “Plus a pink,” I mumble, sorting the laundry. This should be drudgery, but it’s not. I’ve got a room of my own, neat and small, and it’s a place to stay off the grid. Yep, I get paid in cash, so there’s no way for anyone to find me.

  Plus, there’s plenty to eat, and that’s important because one morning after breakfast, I threw up for no reason, forehead flushed and palms clammy. What in the world? I’ve never thrown up before, at least not since childhood. So what was going on?

  But the truth became evident. Sitting limply on my bed, my eyes stared blankly at the pregnancy test. Two vertical blue lines. I scrabbled with the test instructions again, re-reading the words on the box. Yep, two lines meant that I was pregnant, there was no doubt.

  So now I have Tyler’s baby in me, making me even rounder and fuller, happy and sad at once, the mixed emotions a rollercoaster of fear and ecstasy. It’s crazy. I’m going to have the child of a man who betrayed me, who stole everything I have.

  And yet, it doesn’t freak me out because I want it on some level. I want Tyler’s child, he or she was conceived in love, even if I didn’t know my true circumstances at the time. So I’m going to keep the baby, working hard to support us, despite our sad environment. Ma and Pa did right by me, and it’s the least I can do for my child.

  Besides, not all my memories are bad. In fact, some of them are good, filled with a sense of wonder. Without Tyler my farm would’ve gone under, there’s no doubt about that in my mind. He worked so hard to help me fix up the place, and the heat between us was genuine for sure. Maybe mentally, we weren’t on the same plane, but physically, every day was a shower of sparks, electricity gone wild as my pussy pulsed again and again.

  And every day I struggle with whether or not I should tell Tyler. I still haven’t gotten over his betrayal, not by a long shot. After all, I never once suspected that he could possibly be one of those Morgans. Sure, there was more to him than meets the eye, but not once did I think it was this bad.

  So should I tell him? It’s his child after all. We parted on terrible terms, and the alpha doesn’t want me anymore, for sure. But a man like Tyler would want to know his child, he would never abandon a son or daughter.

  So every day, I struggle here in Colorado. Loving Tyler and missing him, but still feeling hurt and betrayed by his deception. Every night leads to tears just like tonight as the confusion and despair pour out of my eyes slowly.

  “Maisie!” I hear from outside my door and rush to dry my eyes before calling for Grace to enter.

  “What you doing in here, baby girl?” she asks and I shake my head silently, a lump in my throat. If I speak, the waterworks will start back up, and I don’t want that.

  Besides, Grace and I have become close friends during these six months, bound together by our sad circumstances. The older woman is almost like a second mother now, caring and comforting, helping to sustain me in my time of need.

  But she doesn’t hold back this time, coming to sit next to me on the bed.

  “Oh, Mais. I know you’re pregnant,” she says flat out, putting an arm around my shoulders, and I burst into tears at her acknowledgment.

  “Don’t cry, don’t cry,” she repeats over and over while pulling me into her arms as she sits on the edge of my bed.

  “You don’t know,” I murmur through the cries.

  “Well, tell me,” she suggests.

  And I do. I tell Grace everything. From me dropping out of school, to Pa dying, to the threat of foreclosure, and then all about Tyler and our whirlwind romance. She’s smiles knowingly when I describe the incredible attraction between us, and cheers when I describe our small but simple wedding.

  But all the happiness seeps from her face once I get to the betrayal. Because Tyler was all lies, and now I’m having his child.

  “So he doesn’t know?” she says, voice firm, eyeing my baby bump.

  “No, I haven’t spoken to him since I took off,” I say tearfully.

  Maisie looks thoughtful.

  “This is a long, sad story,” she says slowly. “But I have to ask. Do you still love him, Maisie? After all this, do you still feel for him in your heart?” Her eyes penetrate my soul, and I crumple again, so ashamed.

  Because the answer is obvious. Of course I love Tyler. I’ve never stopped loving the enemy, even knowing that he betrayed me. Even after everything, my soul still longs for his.

  So I confess my sins, unable to hold back.

  “Yes,” the whisper comes, painful and broken. “Yes, I love him still. I know I shouldn’t but I do.”

  “Oh sweetheart,” says Grace softly, taking me into her arms. “I’m so sorry, it’s gonna be okay.”

  And my tears become full-on sobs then as I collapse into the arms of the older woman.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I cry, burying my face into her shoulder.

  She pauses for a moment.

  “Well, first things first, you’re gonna pack up this little room and get your butt back to Kansas,” she stands and begins to throw my things in the duffle bag.

  “Wait. What?” I raise my head in confusion, eyes red and puffy, tear stains on my cheeks. “What? I thought I just told you he betrayed me.”

  But Grace can’t be stopped. Like a whirlwind, she goes into the bathroom, throwing toiletries into a plastic bag.

  “Wait!” I squeal, my hands trying to stop hers. “Wait, wait, what are you doing?”

  Grace turns to me then, expression firm.

  “Maisie, you are a pregnant woman. Not just that, but you’re in love with the baby’s father to boot. It does no good to spend any more time in this cramped hotel room. Besides, that farmhouse is yours; it’s what your father wanted, and you can’t just give it up without a fight. Now, get that backpack, I’m taking you to the bus station,” she orders.

  “B-but,” comes my stammer. “But what about everything else?”

  But Grace won’t be deterred.

  “Girl, you’ve been hiding. You were scared and frightened, so it’s okay. But you can’t do this forever. You’ve gotta go back. That farm’s still yours, who says they took it away? Who says that they’ve already sold it? That’s your property, and you can’t give it up just like that.”

  Really? I’d been so upset and confused that I left in a whirlwind, not stopping to think things through. When I married, did the property automatically became Tyler’s? But that can’t be true, right? Just because I’m married doesn’t mean he gets it. Or at least we hav
e to split it in two. Right? I shake my head, utterly confused.

  But Grace isn’t giving me time to think.

  “No ifs, ands, and buts,” she says firmly, zipping up my duffel with a flourish. “You need to show up and settle everything. You can’t hide from your problems forever.”

  “But,” I gasp, hands running protectively over my belly. “I can’t! I’m pregnant!”

  “You can,” she says firmly, handing me the bag. “Honey, if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that you can’t stay in the dark forever. There’s power by owning your problems, by tackling them head-on. And you’re a strong woman, you’ve run that farm by yourself before. Come on,” she declares, and with that, the front door’s open, the black of outside intimidating and ominous.

  I follow dumbly, eyes wide with shock. Because Grace has a point. What am I doing in Colorado? Hiding out, for sure. I couldn’t stay at the farm, not after what happened.

  But the Double H is also my birthright. I belong there, the fields are in my blood, the sun, sky, and the land stir my soul. So somehow, some way or another, I’ve got to make it work … and confronting Tyler is the first step.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Maisie

  The ride back to Kansas is agonizingly long, maybe because I’m awake for this journey. A lethal combination of anger and pride fuels me on the thirteen-hour trip.

  Grace has, as she explained it, “put a battery in my back,” and I’m determined to fight for my Pa’s farm. She convinced me there was no use in beating myself up about deserting the land and all that it represents. What’s important is that I do my best to try and win it back now.

  Plus, I can’t deny my traitorous heart. There’s excitement in my gut, a swell of emotion that overtakes me whenever I think of my husband. Because maybe Tyler and I can work it out some way. Maybe we can make things happen, somehow or other.

  But I shake my head fiercely, disgusted. He’s the enemy! scolds the voice in my head. You can’t work with a liar.