Just a Cowboy and His Baby (Spikes & Spurs)

by Carolyn Brown

  “Oh, I’m finding that out the hard way. What would it take to talk you into coming back to Goodnight with me after the Washington rodeo? Your beauty shop is leased until the end of the year and it’s a helluva long way for me to go for a haircut. I could pay you,” he said.

  Her heart thumped and then raced.

  “You don’t have to pay me. I’ll do it,” she said. That gave him several more weeks to figure out that he couldn’t live without an opinionated woman like his grandmother had been.

  “Oh, one more thing, darlin’.” His voice dropped down to a gravelly drawl.

  “Trace, you’re about out of one more things,” she said.

  “This is the last one. Are you wearing underpants?”

  “Trace Coleman!”

  “What color are they?”

  “Holly is right here beside me.”

  “Are they those little lacy things I took off with my teeth?”

  “I told you…”

  “Or are you going commando today so when we get home I can peel those clothes off you and make wild passionate love to you before we go to lunch?”

  “You better curb your imagination, cowboy.”

  “Can’t. It keeps thinking about you in those cute little underbritches. If Holly is taking a nap we could at least get a quickie.”

  “You’d best start thinking about a dirty diaper or a shoulder full of sour milk to cool your jets down, because it’s going to take the whole hour for me and Holly to get beautiful.”

  He laughed. “Darlin’, you and Holly are beautiful just like you are.”

  ***

  Gemma unbuckled Holly, adjusted her bonnet, and handed her to Trace. “Here, you carry her inside, in your arms, not in the carrier.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your mother is going to want to hold her right now and you should be the one holding her the first time they see her,” Gemma explained.

  Trace adjusted the baby in the crook of his left arm and laced his fingers with Gemma’s with his right hand. “Have I told you lately that you are an incredible woman?”

  Gemma wore a white sundress, gold hoop earrings, and her lucky cowboy boots, the ones she usually reserved for bronc riding. Her dark hair had been washed, dried, and styled, and her makeup was flawless.

  Trace had shaved, put on creased jeans and freshly shined boots, and a soft chambray shirt with pearl snaps, and Gemma had feathered his dark hair back with a handful of mousse.

  Baby Holly was dolled up in a cute little white dress, a white lace bonnet with a wide brim, and white socks with lace ruffles. She smelled like baby lotion and looked like an angel with her dark hair and big eyes.

  Not that it would matter anyway. Gemma and Trace could be wearing burlap feed bags tied at the waist with rope and their feet could be bare. The only thing Mary and Thomas Coleman were going to see was Holly.

  “We are here,” Trace yelled at the door.

  Mary got up from the rocking chair in the living area and walked toward him with her hands held out. He handed Holly over and grabbed Gemma’s hand tightly.

  Thomas came from the kitchen and stood beside his wife as she looked down into the baby’s face, wide-eyed at the new person holding her. To Gemma it was a slow-motion scene, and she wondered if any one of the three would ever blink. Then tears filled Mary’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t brush them away but let them drop on her light blue sweater.

  “She’s absolutely beautiful, Trace. She’s the image of you as a baby except for her eyes. I think they’re going to be dark green like your father’s and Gemma’s,” she said.

  Gemma looked up at Trace.

  He smiled and smacked a kiss on her forehead. “Yep, I believe they are. At first I thought they were brown, but the older she gets the greener they turn. Maybe someday she’ll be as pretty as Gemma.”

  “I don’t mind being a grandpa, but it’s kind of tough thinkin’ that my trophy wife is a grandma,” Thomas said.

  “If she’s lucky she’ll be as pretty as Gemma, and I’m not a trophy wife, Thomas Coleman. I wish I had a dozen of these. Come sit beside me, Gemma. You men go on and help Louis finish up the dinner,” Mary said.

  Trace let go of Gemma’s hand, hugged his mother, shook hands with his father, and followed Teamer and his father into the kitchen. Gemma sat down on the sofa beside the rocking chair.

  “So how do you feel about this baby?” Mary asked.

  “I love her. I don’t have a child of my own, but I can’t believe it would be any closer to me than Holly is,” Gemma said honestly.

  “I thought so. I could see it in your eyes. What are you going to do about it?”

  Gemma was suddenly as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. “Well, to start with, Trace wants me to stay here until after the Vegas rodeo to help take care of her. I’m free to do that so I agreed. We’ll cross the next bridge after I whip his butt in that rodeo.”

  “Teamer would give him this ranch or we’d buy it for him. What better place to raise my grandchild than in wide open spaces with plenty of room for her to grow?” Mary removed Holly’s bonnet and touched her hair. “We didn’t need to do that second DNA test. She looks just like Trace did when he was this age.”

  Gemma pulled Holly’s socks off so Mary could count her toes. “He’s a proud man. He wants to know that he bought this ranch with his own money. And it made everyone more comfortable to have a real DNA swab and not one off a beer bottle.”

  “They are all there, pretty and pink,” Mary said. “He should have told you that he was bringing you to meet us at the restaurant. Men don’t think sometimes.”

  “He learned his lesson. He told me today.” Gemma smiled.

  “I see that. You look lovely.”

  “Thank you. Do you really want a dozen grandchildren?”

  “Yes, I do. I wanted more children but had a problem after Trace was born and they had to do a hysterectomy. I’m glad you talked him into naming her after me,” Mary said.

  “She looked like a Holly Mary-Jo to me.” Gemma reached over and Holly grasped her finger.

  “She’s going to be very smart,” Mary said.

  “Maybe even a judge.”

  “Or maybe a cowgirl who rides wild horses?”

  “Dinner is ready,” Louis announced.

  “I can hold her and eat with one hand,” Mary said.

  “We’ve got her carrier in the truck.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon hold her.”

  “Not at all,” Gemma said.

  “I’m glad we had this time alone,” Mary whispered on the way to the dining room.

  Gemma touched her shoulder. “Me too.”

  ***

  Later that night after they’d put Holly to bed in an old rocking cradle that Teamer had hauled down off the attic, Gemma curled up next to Trace. He hugged her tightly to his side and kissed her on the top of the head.

  “Momma likes you. So did Dad.”

  “And you?”

  “Honey, I love you.”

  The room went as still as the arena just before the gates opened. Gemma thought she’d heard him wrong and that he said, “I like you.” Surely he hadn’t really said the L word, or had he?

  “Well?” Trace finally said.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Trace laughed. “Very.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Easy. It didn’t pain me to say the words and it feels right.”

  She sat straight up, flipped around, threw a leg over him, and sat on him like he was a wild bronc. “Look me in the eyes and say it again.”

  “I love you, Gemma.” His eyes did not leave hers.

  She leaned forward, propped her hands on the pillow beside his head, and kissed him. And it did feel right.

  “I love you too,” she whispered.

  He tangled his hands in her long hair and drew her lips back to his and rolled over until he was on top of her. “Promise?”<
br />
  “Kiss me again and I’ll promise.”

  He sealed the deal with a sweet, lingering kiss. He tasted her lips slowly and moved his hands under her nightshirt, touching all the places that made her shiver.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered.

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing, and I’m starting with long, slow kisses just like the song says.”

  “What if I want fast and furious?”

  “Then you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night. I bet Mother would gladly babysit and let us go out to dinner.”

  “No! I’m not leaving that baby alone with anyone, not yet,” she said.

  “Then it will be long slow kisses and…” He let the sentence trail off as he started down her body, taking off clothing and throwing it on the floor and kissing every inch of her skin.

  “Whew!” she panted.

  “You are so beautiful and I love you so much,” he said.

  “This isn’t sex. This is…” She panted.

  “…making love,” he finished for her. “Got to admit, I like it just as well, and darlin’, I plan to do it often.”

  “Trace,” she gasped, “I do love you. I really, really do.”

  Chapter 22

  Gemma’s spurs jingled against the chute as she climbed up the side. Not far away, Holly was busy pitching a real hissy fit in her stroller. She didn’t even stop crying when Trace picked her up and held her close to his vest. He’d ridden just minutes before and beat both Billy’s and Coby’s tie of eighty points by one point. Now all she had to do was put the baby’s cries out of her mind, do her eight seconds, and beat them all.

  She felt the horse tense against her knees. She cleared her mind, got prepared for the mark out, then nodded.

  The announcer screamed above the Omaha fans and said more in eight seconds than Gemma could have thought in eight hours. “Look at her ride, cowboys and cowgirls. She’s got that bronc under control. The only woman in the contest this year, Miss Gemma O’Donnell, and she’s showing the boys how it’s done, let me tell you.” He went on and on, but the only thing Gemma heard was, “And there’s the buzzer. She’s stayed with him the whole time. Let’s see what the judges have to say about that ride from Gemma from Ringgold, Texas.”

  She was on the ground with her hat in her hand when she heard the news. “Well, darlin’, that was one helluva ride, and you taught that big black bruiser who was boss, but it looks like Trace Coleman wins this round. You racked up eighty points to make it a three-way tie for second place. You didn’t win this round, honey, but we’ll see all four of you again in Vegas in December where it’s anybody’s game and the stakes are high. And now we’ll go right into the bull riding.”

  Gemma bowed to a noisy crowed and walked out of the arena. The tie had finally been broken that started back in Lovington. Trace was ahead by ten thousand dollars, but they were both going to the finals.

  A cold breeze kicked up, and Gemma hurried to the place where she’d left Trace and Holly. Her cell phone rang and she answered it without missing a step.

  “So do I put the next shamrock on that has playoffs written in silver glitter on the lucky horseshoe hanging on the side of the refrigerator?” Maddie asked.

  “No, Momma. I missed it. Second place with a three-way tie, but I’m going to Vegas. So is Billy Washington, Coby Taylor, and Trace.”

  “I’m sorry, darlin’. I know you wanted to go as the number one contestant, but the important thing is that you’ll be going to the finals. We’ll all be there. Whole bunch of us are flying in. Except for Jasmine and Ace. She says she can have a baby in the plane, at the rodeo, or in a Vegas hospital, but Ace says she is not flying when she’s that close to her due date. Done got a whole suite of rooms reserved so don’t be making any hotel plans. How’s that baby girl?”

  “I’m surprised you can’t hear her. I’m heading right toward her and she’s screaming her head off. Here, Trace, take this phone and give me that child,” Gemma said.

  “Hello?” Trace said.

  Gemma crooned to Holly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. I should’ve taken you with me. I could’ve held you in my rein hand and still got a high score.”

  “Congratulations, Trace,” Maddie said.

  “Thank you. Will we see you in Vegas?”

  “Oh, yes, but we will see you and the baby a couple of weeks before that. My rule is that all my kids come home for Thanksgiving.”

  “Is that an invitation?” Trace asked.

  “No, that is an order. Now give the phone back to Gemma. If she could ride a bronc and hold a baby at the same time like I just now heard her say, then she can damn sure hold a baby and talk to me,” Maddie said.

  Trace handed the phone to Gemma.

  “Yes, ma’am. We will. I promise. Call everyone for me.”

  She jammed it into her vest pocket and looked at him.

  “What?” she asked.

  He grabbed her around the waist and hugged both her and Holly at the same time. “We made it, Gemma. We’re going to the finals.”

  “Was there ever a doubt? I’m still going to whip your sorry old ass even though I’m in love with you, cowboy.”

  “We’ll see about that, darlin’.”

  “What now?”

  “Now we go home to Goodnight and live until the second weekend in December.” He kept an arm around her shoulders and pushed the stroller with the other hand as they started toward the stands.

  “Hey, you two—good rides!” Coby yelled from the shadows.

  “Same back atcha,” Gemma hollered.

  “See you in Vegas where neither one of you is going home with the cash or the glory,” Coby said.

  “Bring it on, big boy,” Gemma taunted.

  “You should’ve left that rodeo with me the night you passed out and you wouldn’t be strapped down with a baby,” he smarted off.

  Gemma handed Holly to Trace and covered the ground between them in long strides. “What did you say? Were you the one who put that shit in my beer that night?”

  “Figure it out for yourself. But remember, I could’ve offered you a helluva lot more than Trace Coleman has given you,” he whispered.

  Gemma moved up to within an inch of Coby’s nose. “Thank you. If you hadn’t put that in my drink, I’d have never fallen in love with Trace.”

  Coby blushed so crimson that Gemma could’ve lit a cigarette off the end of his nose. He opened his mouth, but nothing would come out.

  “When you get on the bronc in Vegas, you remember that losers seldom win a damn thing and only a loser would dope a woman’s drink to get her into bed. A real man doesn’t have to use anything but charm,” Gemma threw over her shoulder.

  “What was that all about?” Trace asked.

  “He’s the one who drugged my beer that night. I was thanking him because I got you out of the deal.”

  “Okay, let’s take Holly up in the stands and watch the rest of the rodeo.”

  “I figured I’d have to fight you when you found that out,” she said.

  “Darlin’, you told me way back there that you fought your own battles. And besides, I agree with Teamer. You are as big a force as Grandma Coleman.”

  Chopper McBride swaggered over to them and stuck out his hand. “Congratulations, son. I was on my way to buy a beer. Can I get you kids one?”

  Trace shook with the old rodeo legend. “Thank you, sir. We’re on our way to the stands. We’ll get one on the way. Appreciate the offer, though.”

  “Y’all both gave us a run for our money all season.” He chuckled. “Truth is I made a few hundred bettin’ on one or the other of you all summer. And now I don’t know where to put my bet for the finals. I reckon you could tame the devil, Trace, but Gemma, she’s going to make you work your ass off for it. She might even whip your sorry old butt when the time comes. So who do I put my money on?” he asked with a gleam in his eyes.

  “On me,” Gemma said. “I’m going to win.”

  “What you got t
o say about that?” Chopper asked Trace.

  “I’d say that she is full of hot air,” Trace answered.

  Chopper guffawed. “Okay, then, I’m going to put half my money on Trace and the other half on Gemma. That way I win no matter what. Now turn that baby around here and let me look at her. Y’all look like a regular family, but you got to get her some chaps and boots. Can’t never start ’em too early.”

  Chapter 23

  September ended.

  October flew by like it had wings, and every day Gemma wondered what would happen after the final rodeo. Trace had said that he loved her two months before, and every night those three magic words came out of his mouth just before he went to sleep. They’d fallen into a working relationship that involved ranching, which she knew as well as he did, hot heavy sex some nights and sweet lovemaking others, raising a baby, and sharing life. Some days they made it all the way from daylight to dark without hitting a speed bump; others they didn’t get finished with breakfast before they hit the first one.

  November came in with a blast of cold wind that said winter was on the way. By the middle of the month they’d already had freezing weather, but the sun was out on Thanksgiving morning when they loaded Holly into Gemma’s truck and headed east to Ringgold for the day and night. Teamer and Louis planned a big Thanksgiving supper on Friday night with Trace’s parents flying in from Houston.

  They made it in record time and parked in the yard beside several other trucks. Holly had slept most of the way and woke up hungry just a mile from the house. She fussed and fumed and chewed on her hands.

  “Bottle?” Trace asked.

  “Time for baby food. I brought sweet potatoes because that’s her favorite and it’s Thanksgiving,” Gemma said. “We’ll be there in five more minutes and I can heat them up.”

  Trace looked in the rearview mirror. “You hear that, baby girl? Just a little bit more and you won’t have to chew all the hide off your knuckles.” He looked over at Gemma. “Excited to be home?”

  Home.

  There it was again. Home. But it wasn’t in Ringgold anymore. It was in Goodnight where she’d settled into a two-bedroom frame house.