The Cowboy's Baby: Devlin Brothers Ranch

by Joanna Bell

  It was dark by the time I got the cattle back into the barn and my arms were almost shaking from fatigue when I closed the stall door on the last steer and walked back to the trailer – to her.

  "Jackson," she said when she saw my freezing, exhausted self standing in the doorway.

  I swear I almost fucking cried. Instead, I fell into her arms and let her hold me.

  "What are you doing?" She whispered, kissing my cheek and taking my frozen hands between her own to warm them. "How long were you outside? You shouldn't be out alone for too long in this weather."

  I took it all. All her tender, womanly concern. All her kisses and quiet gazes. I took it and used it as a shield against the cold and the darkness and my father's endless disappointment.

  And she never begrudged me a moment of it. Even on the days when I had almost nothing left to give, she never resented it.

  Back at the trailer that night the woodstove burned merrily and the smell of roast chicken had my stomach growling loudly.

  "Sit," Hailey commanded when I went to the cupboard to get out a couple of plates. "Jackson, you just sit down. I've got this."

  So I sat down feeling like the luckiest man in the world and watched her bustle around the tiny kitchen getting everything ready.

  Later, when she was curled up on my lap and my belly was full of roast chicken, I asked her what I did to deserve it.

  Instead of answering, she slid down onto her knees on the floor in front of me and I genuinely thought I might die of happiness.

  "You do things for me," she said, unbuckling my belt and leaning in close to kiss my belly. I was exhausted every day. But I was never too exhausted for that.

  "Hailey," I said, reaching down to pull her back into my lap. "Come here."

  But she shook her head and smiled, her eyes widening with lust when she pulled my entire length out of my jeans. "No. I want it like this."

  I would have put up more of a fight but she curled the tip of her tongue up under the head of my cock and then put her lips on me, trailing kisses all the way down the shaft until I damn near forgot my own name, let alone whatever it was I had been about to say.

  We knew each other's bodies like our own by then. She knew exactly what was going to make my eyes cross and my breath catch in my throat. When I reached down to caress her cheek she turned her eyes up, her mouth full of me, and laced her fingers through mine.

  I felt the peak coming as Hailey drew her lips up and pushed them back down again, over and over and always pausing at the tip to swirl her tongue over me. My hips started to thrust up off the chair involuntarily and I closed my eyes, moaning.

  "Wait. Jackson – I –"

  "What?" I breathed when she paused, my balls full and aching.

  "I want you inside me. I want –"

  Before she could even finish speaking I laid her back on the floor, tore a condom open with my teeth and unrolled it down my throbbing cock. Then I yanked off her flimsy little leggings and panties and buried myself in her warmth.

  "Fuck," she gasped, her body falling open in welcome underneath me. "Jackson, I waited all day for this. I waited all..."

  I drove myself deep into her, forcing myself to move slowly because I knew it made her crazy, and held myself there inside her as she locked her legs around my hips and clawed at my shoulders. There was nothing better than Hailey's desperation, the way she would beg me for more when she was close.

  "Jackson, I –"

  "What is it?" I asked, swallowing hard, steeling myself against the almost irresistible urge to give her what we both wanted. "What's wrong, baby?"

  "Please," she whispered, opening her mouth against mine, asking for my tongue. "Please, Jackson. Please..."

  I pulled back, almost all the way out, and then sank back into her once more as she moaned and opened her legs even wider for me. "What do you want?" I continued, my voice dissolving into a heavy moan. "Tell me, Hailey. Tell me what you... want."

  Sometimes it was slow. Sometimes I could drag it out until she was almost crying with need. Not that time. The first sweet little pulse of her sex around me as she reached her peak was enough to send me right over the edge with her. I thrust down as deep as I could and let myself go.

  We lay on the floor afterwards, laughing and talking about nothing in particular. At one point Hailey got up to use the bathroom and I lay there, still buck-ass naked, wondering if life could get any better.

  "You should put some clothes on," she said when she came back, grabbing one of my t-shirts and pulling it on over her head. Goddamn I used to love it when she wore one of my shirts – and nothing else.

  And without even thinking about it – or without admitting to myself I was thinking about it, anyway – I looked up and asked her if she wanted me to come to New York with her.

  "What?" She replied, stopping dead halfway into the kitchen and turning to face me.

  I couldn't read her expression. Was she happy? Skeptical? Disbelieving?

  "Uh, yeah," I continued, because if not then to have that conversation – when? It's not like it hadn't been on my mind every waking second for weeks. "I was thinking I could come to New York with you."

  "I don't even know if I'm going to get into Fischer," she replied quietly. "I probably won't."

  "Well didn't you apply to a bunch of places?"

  Hailey put the dirty plates she was holding on the counter and came back to lie down beside me. "Do you know what?"

  "What?"

  "I didn't. I was going to, but then I didn't. I only applied to Fischer."

  "Why?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew.

  "Because of you," she said. "Because if I have to leave Sweetgrass Ridge – I mean, if I have to leave you –" she paused and took a deep breath, trying to control the wobble that crept into her voice. "If I have to leave you, Jackson, then I don't want it to be for some second rate school."

  We lay silently for a few minutes, each of us trying to contemplate what our words might actually mean if we followed through on them.

  "But you can't leave," she said finally, curling tightly up against me. "What about the ranch? What about your inheritance?"

  "Fuck my inheritance."

  I meant it. She never gave me the chance to prove it, and I'm sure she thought it was just me speaking before I'd properly thought it through – but it wasn't. It wasn't youthful bravado or naiveté or any of it. I was young but I wasn't completely stupid. How much money was love worth? How much money was her happiness – and my own – worth? More than whatever Devlin Ranch was valued at. More than anything.

  "Jackson," she started slowly a few minutes later. "You don't know what you're saying. You don't know what you'd be giving up."

  "And you do?" I replied, suddenly annoyed at what felt like condescension on her part. "You think you know better than me what I would be giving up?"

  "No. I just –" she paused, as if she'd been about to say something else and then thought better of it. "We probably don't even have to think about this. I probably won't get into Fischer."

  "Yes you will."

  She would. Of course she would. She had more artistic talent and ability in her little finger than anyone else I ever knew had in their whole soul. The Fischer Institute was, as I had been told, the best art school in the United States – and one of the best in the world. Which meant they knew talent when they saw it. Which meant they were going to accept Hailey the minute they saw the portfolio of drawings she sent them as part of her application. Which meant that, sooner or later, we were going to have to think about it.

  Chapter 16: Hailey

  In May of that year, mere weeks before I graduated from high school and on what otherwise would have been a normal day, two things happened.

  1. It dawned on me that it was a long time since my last period. My cycle was always somewhat irregular – but not that irregular.

  2. An envelope arrived in the mail with the logo of the Fischer Institute embossed on the top left corner. />
  Unfortunately, I only spotted the letter after confessing to a wide-eyed Lili that I'd been feeling nauseous for awhile, on top of the missed periods. It – the letter – was sitting on top of a stack of flyers and bills on the kitchen table.

  "No," Lili said before I could reach for it. We were supposed to be on our way to the pharmacy to get a pregnancy test. "First thing's first, Hailey. You can open it when we get back."

  But I snatched it off the table anyway, and stuffed it into my purse when she went back into the kitchen to grab her phone.

  ***

  Just under an hour later we were back from the pharmacy and I was sitting in the bathroom at my aunt Sandra's house, the envelope still unopened in my purse, staring at 3 little plus signs in a row.

  "Are you OK?" My cousin's voice came from outside.

  I opened my mouth to respond but the only sound that came out was a low, desperate sob. At once, Lili opened the door and knelt down beside me on the floor, already aware of the results without having to look.

  "It's OK," she whispered, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and holding me tightly. "It's OK, Hailey. It's OK. It's OK."

  But it wasn't OK. Nothing was OK. Because as soon as I saw that neat little row of plus signs, I knew two seemingly paradoxical things: one, that this was the worst thing that had ever happened to me and two, that I had a baby in my belly – Jackson Devlin's baby – and nothing and no one could be allowed to harm him – or her.

  It really was that instant. I could almost feel the g-forces of fate pushing me back against the bathroom cabinet as my life took a sudden, violent swerve off the road it had previously been on.

  High school, graduation, art school, success, security for myself and my mother – that's how it was supposed to go. I don't think I even realized until then just how far into the future my plans truly went. Only at the point of watching it all slip through my fingers did I understand the depths of my own ambition.

  "You're not even showing," Lili babbled, holding back tears. "It's early. You're not showing so that means it's early. You have choices. Are you listening? Hailey? Look at me. Hailey!"

  I wasn't listening. I was digging in my purse for the envelope. And then I was failing to get it open because my hands were shaking too much. Lili took it from me, ripped it open herself and I watched her eyes move back and forth over the words, my heart beating in my throat.

  "Well?" I asked, watching as she blinked a few times, sending two tears rolling down her cheeks. "What does it –"

  "You got in," she squeaked, her voice high and thin with emotion.

  "Wh-what?" I stammered. "What?!"

  Lili looked back down at the letter. "You got in," she repeated, taking a deep breath. "Full ride, Hailey. You got in and they're offering you a full ride scholarship."

  She caught me before I collapsed onto the floor, stroking my hair and rocking me back and forth as we cried together.

  Later – a long time later, when my ass was aching from sitting on the Gomez's bathroom floor – I asked to read the letter.

  And there it was, written on thick, creamy paper with the same embossed logo that was on the envelope at the top. Not only was the Fischer Institute of the Arts eager to welcome a student of my "prodigious talent" to their undergraduate program, they were "delighted" to be able to offer me a "full and comprehensive" financial aid package, including dorm accommodations and 100% meal plan coverage for the full 4 years it would take to complete my degree.

  I couldn't think. One moment it seemed like everything had sunk in and the next like I'd imagined it all – the pregnancy and the letter of acceptance.

  "Do you think your mom will let you borrow the car?" I asked, suddenly desperate to get away. "Can we go for a drive?"

  ***

  On the way out of town, as I sat slumped in the passenger seat, Lili straightened and looked pointedly into the rearview mirror.

  "Huh."

  "What?" I asked, not bothering to turn and look for myself.

  "That was Darcy Devlin. What's she doing on this side of the tracks?"

  Jackson's stepmother drove an obnoxious pink (yes, pink) Range Rover, so she was easy to spot in town. "Dunno," I shrugged, looking out the window as my eyes filled with tears once more.

  "I know I already said it," Lili said, seeing that I was emotional again, "and I know it's too soon for you to be making any decisions about anything – but you have choices. You can still go to New York."

  I didn't want to think about my 'choices.' What I wanted was a time machine, so I could go back and do everything over again.

  For so long I'd been telling myself that if I didn't get into Fischer, that was it. I would stay in Sweetgrass Ridge and make my life there, where my roots were sunk deep and where the man I loved would one day run the biggest ranch in the state.

  But as the foothills raced by outside the window and the gravity of the situation sunk in, I realized that a part of me never intended to stay. Sure, I only applied to Fischer. But if I hadn't gotten in, it wasn't too late to apply to some lesser-known art schools out west, closer to Montana. Long-distance relationships existed. Perhaps me and Jackson could have done that for a few years?

  Not that it mattered now.

  My phone vibrated as we headed out of town. Jackson. I stared down at the screen for a few seconds and then turned the phone off. I didn't want to lie about what was going on, but I didn't yet feel ready to talk about it to anyone except Lili. I had to accept the truth for myself before I shared it.

  ***

  I got back home after 10 o'clock and walked in to the sight of my mother sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes haunted. She knew. How did she know?

  "Mom?" I said, my voice wobbling.

  She took one look at me and started to cry silently. It was only the second time in my life I ever saw her cry.

  "So it's true," she said, wiping her eyes. It wasn't a question. "I can see it on your face that it's true."

  She was crying because of me. My mom who did everything for me, who made every sacrifice and worked her fingers to the bone so I could have what she never did, was crying because of me. A wave of guilt, dark and awful, washed over me.

  And then my mother said two words. Just two, but so filled with anguish and regret and disappointment that I knew I would never forget how it felt to hear them:

  "Oh, Hailey."

  "How do you know?" I asked, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down. "Only Lili knows, and she promised she wouldn't tell anyone. I've been with her since this afternoon and she didn't use her phone –"

  "Where do you think you are?" My mom replied wearily. "This is Sweetgrass Ridge – do you think no one saw you at the pharmacy buying pregnancy tests?"

  I tried to remember if I saw anyone I knew at Ruger's Pharmacy. Not that it mattered how my mom knew – only that she did.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered, blinking back a fresh onslaught of tears. "Mom – I'm sorry. I didn't –"

  "How did this happen?" She asked, cutting me off. "How could you let this happen, Hailey? Is this my fault? Didn't I warn you enough times? Didn't I –"

  "It's not your fault," I told her, my voice so quiet I could barely hear it. "There's also this."

  My mom looked up and caught my eye, clearly expecting more bad news as I handed her the letter from the Fischer Institute. I watched her face closely as she read it, but there was no sudden flash of happiness or pride.

  "I got in." I said.

  "Yes, you did."

  "A full-ride scholarship."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Aren't you happy?" I pleaded, my heart breaking. "It's not all bad news, right?"

  "How are you going to go to New York with a baby?"

  My reply, which I only realized years later was exactly the one my mother was leading me to, came immediately: "I'm not."

  "That's right, Hailey. You're not. This isn't a TV movie. This is real life. You can't go to art school halfway across the country, alone, with a b
aby."

  She was right.

  "I'll take a few days off work. We'll go to Seattle."

  What was she talking about? A vacation? Time off work and a trip to - oh. Oh.

  She must have seen the moment of realization on my face because she slipped her hand over mine and didn't quite manage to hold in a sob.

  "You have to go to New York," she whispered, her tone desperate. "Look at me, girl. Are you listening? You have to go to New York. God gave you a gift, Hailey, and you can't waste it. We'll leave tomorrow. Actually, no. We'll leave tonight. Can you pack a bag right now?"

  My mind raced. My dilemma was that of an adult, but I was in so many ways still a child. I agreed to pack a bag not because I was making a well thought out and considered adult decision, but because my childish heart couldn't stand the look of pain and disappointment on my mother's face. I wanted her to stop crying. I wanted her to be happy and proud of me. I didn't want any of this to be happening and, most of all, I didn't want to have to make the choice she seemed intent on making for me.

  God gave you a gift, Hailey.

  I didn't even know if I believed in God. But if He existed and was in the habit of handing out gifts, surely my baby was also a gift?

  Chapter 17: Jackson

  The first sign that anything was wrong was Hailey failing to respond to my messages. I sent one asking what she was up to and then another a couple of hours later, wondering if her phone battery was dead and telling her to message me when it was recharged. I almost drove over to her mom's condo that night when it got to 6 p.m. and she still hadn't replied, but decided against it at the last minute. She was probably working and unaware her phone was dead. She would message me later that night, or in the morning.

  But she didn't message me later that night, or the next morning. I rode out to check on the new calves first thing, and kept pulling my phone out of my pocket, sure it had buzzed, only to realize I imagined it. By mid-morning, I was getting seriously worried.