I Don't Want to be Married

by Sonja Gunter

  Six-thirty.

  Kneeling, she rested her hands on the toilet seat. “You and I are becoming best friends.”

  “Rosalind? Should I take you to the hospital?”

  She sat back against the wall, shaking her head. “No, this is what’s called morning sickness.”

  Allan knelt in front of her. She met his gaze. “I suspect you’ll be wanting crackers and soda for breakfast?”

  She laughed, nodded, and breathed more easily.

  He brushed her hair from her face. “I love you. I never thought I’d want children, but knowing we created this child out of love is amazing. Anything I can do for you?”

  She shifted her position on the floor. “Sit with me. My insides will start churning again if I stand.”

  He sat next to her. She laid her head on his shoulder. The morning sickness lasted about a half hour. Allan carried her to bed and caressed her cheek. “I’ll be back with your very special breakfast.”

  She gently squeezed his hand. “Thanks.”

  After the door shut, she lay there pondering the idea of having a baby. It had been hard to tell him in the middle of the road with people all around. She’d wanted to wait until after the competition.

  Sam would’ve said, what’s done is done. No going back.

  They were one unit now. She repositioned her arm from under her breast and unhooked her bra. They felt full and tender. She marveled at how her body had changed so fast.

  Her cell phone rang, and she twisted to grab it. The screen showed a text message from Walt.

  You dropped to second. Alisa is in first.

  Rosalind typed, Thanks.

  The door opened and Allan came in carrying her breakfast. “Maybe some fresh air will do you good.”

  “Not yet. I’ll take some of those crackers though.” She straightened, forgetting she’d loosened her bra.

  “Mmmm, I like the view. Are you sure we can’t make love?”

  “Not yet, stud. But tonight for sure. Come lie next to me.”

  He took off his shirt and lay facing her. His hand traced the rose and caressed her nipple. She inhaled and held her breath. “Allan.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t mean I can’t touch you, does it?”

  “No . . .”

  Smiling, she placed one hand on his wide chest, stroking its muscled hardness. Her other hand reached the waistband of his jeans, slid down the zipper, and unbuttoned them.

  “Rosalind?”

  She kissed him. Their tongues danced.

  “Commando?”

  “I . . . left in a hurry this morning.”

  Wrapping her fingers around his thick, long erection, she slowly ran her hand up and down the length. He groaned against her lips. With her thumb and fingers she stroked the tip and gently tightened her hold.

  Oh my God.

  Allan constricted her hand at his breaking point. Her palm stilled and in a feather-light caress, moved to caress his chest. He fought to control his heavy short breaths. “Are we feeling better?”

  Her reply was a smile and a kiss. They held each other and he rested his palm on her non-existent belly bump.

  A knock on the door awoke them.

  “Hello? Maid service.”

  “Give me a minute.”

  He jumped off the bed, adjusting his jeans before zipping them. Rosalind gathered her clothes and headed to the bathroom.

  He opened the door. “Hello. Can you give us ten minutes?”

  The housekeeper nodded and moved her cart down the hall. He glanced at the clock. They’d slept for almost an hour. He ran his hand through his hair and then over his chin.

  “Hey handsome, I like the shadowy look. Time to hustle.”

  He glazed at his wife. Today she wore a pink and white shirt with fringe along the back of the sleeves, and a silver belt buckle as big as his fist.

  “Wow.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Let me take a quick shower, give me a minute.”

  “One-thousand-one, one-thousand-two . . .”

  Laughing, he closed the door.

  The Oklahoma Fairgrounds were packed. Food venders, pony rides, and rodeo people walking everywhere. Allan maneuvered the truck to the far end of the arena, reserved for participants. Rosalind took it all in, not wanting to forget the thrill of the day. Or the way her big-city husband looked dressed in Wranglers, a plaid shirt, and new Frye boots.

  “How can you leave your life in New York City for this?” She waved her arms in front of her.

  “Being raised in many foster homes has given me the strength to let go of comfort for the next step in life. I’m promoting Paul to president and I’m opening rural offices to help ranchers and farmers live their lives without financial worries.”

  “What?”

  “I told you, I won’t be going back,” he replied. “Well, maybe we could spend the holidays in New York.”

  “Allan, you don’t have to give up your business company. I can manage on my own, if you need to be gone for a month or two.”

  He took her hand and wiped tears she hadn’t known had fallen. “I could never leave you. You’ve changed me.”

  “No, you’ve changed me.”

  They shared a smile.

  “Remember our vows, until death do us part?” he whispered. “You’ve got me till then.”

  Rosalind hugged and kissed him. “I can hardly wait for the competition to end, so I can show you how much I love you.”

  “You don’t have to wait.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You’re a devil. Let’s get going, cowboy.”

  As they approached Dawn’s stall they noticed another group of people hanging around, mostly reporters.

  “There she is.” The group edged closer, shouting questions.

  “Was Tom Clark blackmailing you, too?”

  “When will Heavens Kiss Sanctuary open?”

  “Mr. Smith, why have you stepped down as President of Smith and Associates? Is it because the FBI might arrest you again?”

  Allan moved in front of her. “We will answer only questions about the Heavens Kiss Sanctuary and horses. It’s slated to open in late summer. As you know, with the cold weather in Minnesota it’s hard to construct a building and the training facilities. We have fifteen horses approved to be our guests so far. Our website will be live the first of the year . . .”

  Rosalind slipped past him and the curious group into Dawn’s stall. Allan superbly manipulated the reporters away from the stalls and down the barn as he talked.

  “He’s good,” Joe commented. “Dawn was agitated by the noise.”

  “Look at them, devouring everything he says,” Walt noted as he handed her Dawn’s reins.

  “Yup, that’s my husband,” Rosalind announced with pride. Both men gave her a questioning look. She shrugged. “Well, he is.”

  She pushed open the stall and led Dawn to the practice pen. Yesterday she’d let the day’s activities intrude into her mind and concentration. Today was do or die. All the riders were looking to pick up clients, buyers, or breeding agreements. Most in the competition were established, but she wasn’t.

  She needed the ride of her life now to pass Alisa. She had the second to last run for the final go around. Alisa’s time earned her the last slot.

  Time ticked away as Rosalind ran Dawn through the practice course.

  Clearing her mind as she waited in the alley, she made her last minute checks. She touched each snap on her shirt, tugged on her gloves, patted her hat, and positioned the reins.

  “Dawn, this is it,” she murmured. “Win or lose, we are heroes.”

  The crowd went wild as her name was announced. She raised her arm to signal she w
as ready. For half a second she doubted herself, but gazed at Allan standing off to the right. He smiled. It gave her the strength she needed.

  “Go,” Rosalind yelled.

  Dawn didn’t need any more encouragement. She took off in a split second. Rosalind counted and leaned for the first turn. Dawn’s weight shifted to her hindquarters. The dirt flew and they cleared the first barrel and raced toward the second.

  Rosalind counted again and found herself ahead of her timing. Leaning into the turn, Dawn took this barrel so close she felt it and the dirt at the same time. They straightened and headed for the last barrel.

  She and Dawn were in sync. Her friend hadn’t let her down. The mare moved with grace and ease. Both knew what the other wanted and demanded.

  She didn’t bother counting anymore, because it didn’t matter. They were both so committed to winning. This time around the third barrel her stirrup and boot touched the dirt. Dawn turned so sharp it was amazing. As always on the way to the finish line, Rosalind loosened her grip on the reins, giving Dawn her head. They cleared the time line.

  Walt waved his hands in the air. The crowd erupted in such a crazy frenzy, she barely heard her time.

  “Fifteen-point-seventy-five.”

  Alisa urged her colt forward. Adrenaline rushing, Rosalind couldn’t help herself; she had to watch her opponent.

  They pocketed the first barrel. The colt went wide on the second and knocked the third one. The crowd aah’d as it pitched to stay upright. Alisa passed the electric eye at the same time the barrel stopped wobbling.

  “Fifteen-point-eighty-five for Alisa Highland. Our new Barrel Futurity of America World Champion is Rosalind Smith and Dawn. We have a first. Mother and daughter have both taken this title. Let’s give them a round of applause.”

  Allan was by her side and she fell into his arms.

  “It was fantastic. No, it was incredible. I’m so proud of you.” He swung her around and around.

  Cameras went off. Microphones were stuck in her face.

  “Tell us, Mrs. Smith, what’s a millionaire heiress doing parading around as a lowly cowgirl?”

  Security guards arrived and ushered the reporters away. Allan and Rosalind looked at each other and laughed. No one could ruin their day, their love, or their life together. The past didn’t matter, only their future.

  Epilogue

  A dust cloud rose, announcing the arrival of the first trailer. Rosalind anxiously waited for it to make its way down the newly graveled driveway. She wanted to run out the front door to meet her first boarder, but she walked.

  No, she waddled as calmly as she could. The baby kicked, and she paused. “Hush little one. You’ll get your chance soon enough.”

  She patted her protruding stomach and continued on her mission, needing this moment before she had to alert Allan it was time. She’d been having tiny contractions all morning.

  Outside on the new front porch, a cramp came hard and fast. She gripped the handrail.

  Breathe. One, two, and three. Exhale. One, two, and three.

  Once it passed, she slowly straightened, putting her hands on her lower back. Rosalind stepped off the porch and strolled out to greet the trailer.

  “Should you be outside?”

  She turned and gave Walt a stern look. “I’m not sick. I’m pregnant.”

  “Yes, we all know. Should you be—”

  “Don’t start with me. You men are driving me crazy,” she retorted gruffly. “Now move aside so I can see Morning Dew.”

  Walt offered her his arm and she took it.

  Rosalind’s first glimpse of the neglected mare, brought tears to her eyes. Morning Dew had been taken away from an owner who’d starved her and kept her prisoner in a stall for over three years. The vet’s report indicted the horse’s hooves were severely unkempt, she’d had worms, and needed dental work.

  The mare had been quarantined for a couple of months. Dr. Rangle, from Faribault, had given her a clean bill of health this morning. His papers pronounced Morning Dew healthy enough to be exposed to other animals.

  Max led the mare off the trailer. “Wait, wait girl. Walk. Easy, girl.” Her malnutrition was still very evident.

  “She’s in good hands,” Walt pledged.

  “Yeah, it’s so . . .” Rosalind clutched his arm as another contraction came on.

  “You’re in labor. I’m radioing Allan.”

  “No. They aren’t very close. I have to wait.”

  He put his arm around her. “Your parents, Grandpa Rodney, and Sam would’ve been very proud of you.”

  Walt’s words gave her strength, knowing the choices she’d made had been well worth all the trouble. She’d be able to protect and nurture any horse that was brought to her.

  An old-fashioned ringtone interrupted their conversation. She reached into her back jeans pocket for her cell phone, swiping the display. Allan.

  “Allan, you should see Morning Dew,” Rosalind cried. “She’s tired and scared.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have her well rested in no time,” he murmured in her ear. “How are you doing? Helen said you were having back pains.”

  “It’s nothing,” she lied. “Gas, I’m fine.”

  Walt sighed, shook his head, and gave her a disapproving frown.

  “Rosalind, take it easy,” Allan scolded. “I know you won’t listen if I tell you to go lie down and let Max and Walt take care of the horses.”

  “You’re right, nothing can keep me away.” She prayed he wasn’t suspicious.

  “I’ve arranged for the local newspapers to stop by to take pictures,” Allan said.

  “Okay. Okay, I have to go,” she babbled and pressed disconnect, gasping, barely getting the words out as yet another contraction seized her.

  Tightening her grip on Walt’s arm as the pain intensified, she doubled over.

  “Rosalind, he needs to know,” Walt ordered firmly.

  Another dust cloud erupted on the driveway. The second horse was arriving. This boarder had become very dear to her heart these past months.

  “Give me time to meet Sammy,” she gasped.

  Walt put his arm around her to support her as the trailer stopped next to the first one. Joe hurried to the ramp and unhitched the lock. The sand colored stud, Sammy, a past barrel racehorse, emerged.

  The previous owner had sold the horse to a dog food factory. She’d tried to sequester him before being sold, but the paperwork needed to transfer the horse across state lines had been delayed.

  Thankfully Allan, with Tiffany’s help, had stepped in. They’d pulled some strings and sent the local police to stop the transport. The cops successfully interrupted the truck by citing the driver with several violations. Sammy was impounded, which gave her the extra time to produce the necessary papers to rescue him.

  “Look at him. He’s beautiful.” Rosalind’s voice quivered. “Joe, remember, he’s almost blind.”

  “I’m being careful,” Joe replied. “He’s frightened. Dr. Rangle will be here tomorrow to assess the condition of his ringbone.”

  “I can’t believe the owner sold him for simply going blind,” Max fumed disgustedly.

  “We won’t allow him to die this soon. He can live out his life in fields of green grass.” Rosalind choked back a sob.

  Her emotions had been on a never-ending roller coaster since becoming pregnant. After winning first place and taking the title of World Championship Barrel Rider, they’d established a website and Facebook page for Heavens Kiss Sanctuary. She’d posted daily blogs on both sites about the horses that would soon be arriving and answered questions.

  Since going live, they’d been hammered with a thousand hits a day.

  That brought about new and wonderful problems. Upon returning from her well-dese
rved extended honeymoon, Tiffany was appointed administrator for Heavens Kiss Sanctuary. Her position entailed taking over all directorial functions necessary to run the non-profit operation as donations came in fast and furious. This eased Rosalind’s burden of all the correspondence and requests for assistance.

  After Tom’s arrest made national news, Allan’s lawyers assured all charges of insider trading were being dropped and his name would be cleared of any wrongdoing in a few months.

  Allan’s newly appointed President, Paul Harrington, proved skillful in the management and guidance of Smith and Associates Brokerage Firm, Inc. The corporation continued to flourish, holding its top place as a Fortune Five Hundred company despite investigation by the Federal Government and the viral attack on the Internet and by the paparazzi.

  Life was good.

  The new investment-consulting business Allan founded was a huge success with the local farmers and Rosalind’s rodeo friends, ensuring their long-term financial needs were met to enable their lives to be secure for many years to come.

  “Breaker, breaker. Trailer three coming. Plus boss man.”

  “Ten-four,” Max barked into the walkie-talkie, offering Rosalind a smile.

  Instead of returning it, Rosalind held her protruding belly. Pain ripped through her lower abdomen. She breathed in and out until the contraction passed.

  “It’s time to call Allan,” Walt urged, leading her back to the porch.

  She turned and took a deep breath as second set of dust clouds arose behind the first set. “Here he comes in his new truck. I must not have sounded too convincing on the phone. He’s been such a worrywart since the beginning of the pregnancy.”

  “You sit. I’ll wait here with you.” Walt hovered, pointing to a chair.

  Rosalind debated on whether to sit or stand. Both seemed to be uncomfortable, so she chose to lean against the railing.