Baby Makes a Match

by Arlene James

  He didn’t even go down to dinner, letting everyone think that he was sleeping when what he was really doing was worrying. The cowardice of that shamed him, as it left Bethany to explain his absence. He’d heard her pause outside his door moments after Chester called them down for the evening meal, but she hadn’t knocked, so he’d let her go on her way while he stayed behind to stew about things he couldn’t control.

  He worried about how Bethany truly felt about this marriage, if his presence in the suite would make her uncomfortable and whether he’d be able to provide her with her own home before the baby came. He pondered failure as a husband and a father, as well as in his chosen career, basically second-guessing everything in his life. Eventually, before he could drive himself completely mad, he went to his knees and found a measure of peace.

  It did not come soon enough to keep him from oversleeping the next morning.

  Bethany woke him at only the last possible moment. As a result, he had to dash out of the house without breakfast or a shave to get her to work on time. On the way, they briefly discussed how they were going to handle Hub and decided that they would simply present a unified front and apologize for any hurt feelings.

  They barely got through the door, however, when Hubner attacked.

  “You lied to me!”

  Tired, heartsick and starving, Chandler felt his own temper spike, but he bit his tongue. At first. “You both lied to me!” Hubner accused. “I expect it from you,” he snapped at Chandler. Then he glared accusingly at Bethany. “But you, Bethany?”

  “Now, wait a minute!” Chandler interrupted angrily. “Bethany did what she had to do, and you didn’t believe her anyway, so what difference does it make?”

  “What difference? That’s my grandchild she’s carrying, and she denied it to my face! How can I ever trust either of you again?”

  “Think what you will of me, Dad,” Chandler said, more wounded than he’d expected to be and downright furious at this criticism of Bethany. “I’ve made my share of mistakes. But Bethany has done nothing wrong.”

  Quite the opposite, in fact. She had been wronged. Even if Hubner didn’t know that, this was unfair, so far as Chandler was concerned.

  “Nothing?” Hub scoffed, raking her with a scathing glance.

  Chandler lost it. “How dare you judge her!” he shouted. “Don’t think I’ll let you get away with jumping to conclusions about her! You’ve done that with me time and again, and I’ve put up with it because you’re my father, but she’s off-limits!”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Bethany interjected calmly. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.” Going up on tiptoe, she kissed Chandler on the cheek. Then she lifted both hands and literally shoved him backward out the door, which she pulled closed firmly behind him.

  That kiss threw him off balance to the point that a long moment passed before he fully realized what had happened.

  He was reaching for the handle to go right back inside when he heard Hub say, “Bethany, I did not mean to imply…I don’t know any of the details, but i-it was not my intention to insult you.”

  Bethany folded her arms. “No. Only to insult your son.”

  Chandler stepped to the side, out of sight of the glass door, curious as to what she would say next.

  “You don’t understand,” Hub said in a morose voice. “Somehow I failed that boy. He’s always done the very thing that I don’t want him to do.”

  “He’s not a disobedient boy!” Bethany pointed out. “He’s a man, a very fine man, a far better man than you seem to know. Maybe he’s not perfect, but who is? At least he always does what he believes best, though no one seems to give him credit for that.”

  “What he thinks best is too often not!” Hub argued.

  “In your opinion. Okay, so you sometimes disagree. So what? Why can’t you see past that to the man he is? Sure, he’s made some mistakes. Everyone does. But you have no reason to be disappointed with the man he has become.”

  “You say that because you’re in love with him,” Hub grumbled.

  Chandler didn’t realize that he was holding his breath until Bethany quietly said, “I say that because I know him.”

  Chandler dropped his head.

  No matter what Kaylie thought, Bethany clearly was not in love with him. Why would she be? If not for the aunties, he wouldn’t even be able to house and feed her. He’d let Kreger lead him around by the nose for so long that he’d completely lost his way. And he’d called that loyalty!

  “He’s just doing what he always does,” Bethany went on, showing him real loyalty. “He’s doing his best for everyone. You may not believe that, but it’s the truth.”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Hub muttered. “I just don’t understand any of this.”

  “You could give your son the benefit of the doubt, though,” Bethany told him gently. “You do everyone else.”

  Chandler smiled wanly. She didn’t love him as he wanted her to, the way a wife usually loved her husband, but she was a good friend, good enough to defend him.

  For a moment, Hub said nothing, but then he muttered, “Everyone else isn’t my son.”

  “And that’s the real problem, isn’t it?” Bethany said quietly. “You judge him more harshly because he is your son.”

  What Hub replied, Chandler couldn’t quite make out. It didn’t matter, anyway. Hub would always think the worst of him. Chandler accepted that.

  As for Bethany, he expected nothing more than the respect and friendship that she’d already shown him. She might have settled temporarily for a marriage with a man whom she couldn’t love, but that wouldn’t last. As loyal and sweet and considerate as she was, sooner or later, she’d want her freedom.

  When that time came, he was honor-bound to let her go. He’d agreed to that, and he would keep his word.

  But somehow, he had to manage to keep his heart in the process—even if it meant keeping his distance from this lovely and lovable wife of his.

  “I’m worried about you,” Garrett said, more than a week later. “I thought when you married Chandler that things would change.”

  Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees, sitting opposite Bethany in one of a pair of antique armchairs that matched the sofa upon which she sat. Bethany leaned back into one corner of the sofa, hitched her leg up onto the seat and went about tying the shoestrings of her cheap, bright yellow tennis shoes.

  “Things have changed,” she told him.

  Not as much as she would like, perhaps, but things had changed, and for the better. She no longer had to worry about Jay or, rather, Jason. She need not fear being thought of as an unwed mother and all that implied. As Mrs. Chandler Chatam, she could hold her head up high and finally put the past behind her. Best of all, Matthew had a father who wanted him. How could she complain about any of that—or expect more? So what if her husband had ignored her for the past week and more?

  It hurt, that was what, and she had to do something to change it.

  “You shouldn’t be working,” Garrett said. “You’re not well.”

  “I’m fine,” she told him, keeping her gaze averted as she shifted sides and hitched up the other leg. “Pregnancy is not a disease, you know, and I like my job.”

  In truth, the work did not overtire her, but her cramps had gradually returned. Still, that didn’t bother her nearly as much as Chandler did.

  He had barely spoken to her lately. Even when he’d driven her to and from work, he hadn’t really been there, and now he was heading out to another rodeo without even telling her goodbye. She’d heard him head downstairs just moments ago, and she wanted to catch up with him before he left.

  Suddenly the door opened, and Chandler rushed through it. “Thank goodness you’re dressed,” he said, a harried look on his unshaven face. “I was climbing in the truck when I realized that I couldn’t go off without you, but hurry, please.”

  Thrilled, Bethany got to her feet, tugging on the bottom of the rainbow-striped tunic top
that she wore tied at the shoulders over an old blue T-shirt and a pair of matching leggings, both of which had faded to a pale denim shade.

  “Wait just a minute, and I’ll throw—”

  “Now, Bethany, please,” Chandler interrupted. “I’ll explain on the way.” Turning, he went out again.

  Glancing toward the bedroom, she shrugged. She’d go without luggage if she had to. She would gladly dip into her savings to buy a change of clothes, she was that pleased to be going with her husband. Calling out a hasty farewell to her brother, Bethany grabbed her handbag from the desk beside the door and followed Chandler toward the stairs. He was halfway down the landing when she called out, “What’s the hurry?”

  “I have to be somewhere before seven-thirty.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “I’ll bring the truck around front,” he told her, sprinting ahead down the stairs.

  Bethany kept a more sedate pace, aware that her center of gravity had shifted forward and that a fall could be catastrophic. The truck was waiting at the end of the brick walkway when she got there. She hurried around the front end and climbed into the passenger seat. They were off in an instant.

  Chandler turned the truck right onto Chatam Avenue, as usual, but she didn’t think a thing about it until he said, “I’ll try to keep you from being late, but I promised I’d have money to someone early this morning.”

  “Late for what?”

  “Work,” he said, glancing at her in obvious confusion.

  “But I don’t have to go in to work today,” Bethany pointed out, blinking.

  The truck actually took a jerk sideways as he gaped at her. “You’re not working today?”

  “It’s Friday.”

  He slapped a hand to his forehead. “Of all the insane…Tell me I didn’t drag you out without any breakfast!”

  She grimaced apologetically. “I only got up a few minutes before I heard you go out.”

  “Blast!” He whipped over to the side of the street and braked to a stop. “I’ll take you back.”

  Torn between amusement and disappointment, she put on a smile and banished the other. At least he hadn’t left without saying goodbye.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll eat later. I’m not even hungry yet. Go on. Keep your appointment.”

  “You’re a sweetheart,” he declared. Checking his mirrors, he started the truck moving again. “I’d take you back anyway, but Dovey was good enough to stable my horses at a very reasonable fee after Kreger sold the ranch out from under me, so I owe her. Her operation is always teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, though, and she called this morning to ask if I could pay early because she had a load of feed on its way. I just hopped out of bed and headed out. Then, I thought, oh, no, Bethany’s got to get to work, so I ran back upstairs again.”

  “Sounds like Dovey woke you from a sound sleep.”

  “She did.”

  “She must need all the help she can get, then.”

  “She does,” he admitted, “but I’m sorry about dragging you out like this. Guess my brain’s not working yet.”

  “Aw, don’t worry about it,” Bethany told him, adding sheepishly, “I thought you were heading off to the rodeo without saying goodbye.”

  He slapped himself in the forehead again.

  “I forgot! It’s Friday!” Shaking his head, he huffed a disgusted breath. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have to be there until three, and it’s only a couple hours away. It’ll be fine. In fact, tell you what, for being such a good sport about this, we’ll stop off for breakfast somewhere on the way back from Dovey’s. How does that work for you?”

  “It works just fine,” she said, smiling and settling in for the drive.

  “I’ve done some stupid things,” he said after a moment, “but this is one for the books.” He started to chuckle, and soon they were both laughing.

  She quite liked a man who could laugh at himself, Bethany decided. This one she could very easily love. In fact, she suspected that she already did.

  It was a short trip. They exited the highway after only a couple miles and traveled on the feeder road for some distance before turning to the right. Skirting a cookie-cutter-type neighborhood, they drove down a narrow lane. The pavement ended abruptly after perhaps half a mile, but Chandler never slowed. The truck barreled along, throwing up dust behind it, until even that dirt track ended at a barbed-wire fence. A hard left took them through a narrow, overgrown drive and into a yard of crinkly, sunburned grass.

  As before, when they’d come out here to get the horses in the earliest hours of the morning on the day of their wedding—had it really been a mere week?—Chandler drove right past the modest frame house. Beyond it, cobbled together from a variety of materials, lay a maze of corrals, several small outbuildings and a pair of sizable barns. He brought the truck to a stop in a wide, dusty circle at the end of the drive and got out.

  A thin, older woman in blue jeans and boots emerged from one of the outbuildings and lifted a hand in greeting. She started toward them, flanked by a pack of mutts ranging in size from knee-high to big-enough-to-saddle. One of them, a black, longhaired dog with a curled tail and a missing ear, loped ahead to yelp a greeting. As the welcoming party drew near, Bethany saw that one of the dogs was blind and another was horribly scarred.

  Curious, Bethany got out of the truck. She’d always wanted a dog, but her stepfather and Jay both had refused to have one.

  “Hey, y’all,” the woman greeted them.

  “Hey, yourself,” Chandler said. Striding forward, he removed a wad of folded bills from his shirt pocket and offered it to her. “Here you go.”

  The woman smiled. Fiftyish and whipcord lean, she had a leathery look about her, aided in part by hair the color of tanned hides, which she had tied back with a dark ribbon. She took the cash from Chandler’s hand, saying, “Thanks. This’ll help.”

  “So will the sacks of feed I’ve got in the back,” Chandler said, jerking a thumb toward the truck. He glanced that way and saw that Bethany had gotten out of the cab.

  The woman tried to disguise her curiosity with a friendly smile, but Bethany felt it nonetheless.

  Chandler waved her over and made the introduction. “This is Dovey Crawlick. My wife, Bethany.”

  The older woman goggled. “Wife!”

  Chuckling, Chandler said, “The one and only.”

  “I had no… When did… Glory be!” She leaned forward with an outstretched hand. “How do you do? Pleased to meet you.”

  “Fine. Thank you,” Bethany replied, trying not to wince at the firm grasp.

  Dovey lifted an eyebrow at Chandler, but he just rocked back on his heels, shrugging.

  “You’ve been a busy boy,” she said cheekily.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He lifted one foot and then another, pretending to examine them. “No moss on the soles of these boots.”

  He was enjoying this, Bethany realized, more pleased than she probably ought to be. Not wanting to betray herself, she went down on her haunches to pet the curly tailed dog. Chandler informed her that Dovey worked for a local vet, which abetted her inclination to rescue unwanted animals.

  “Horses mostly,” Dovey told her, waving toward the barns. “Costs a pretty penny, let me tell you.” She looked around sharply and said, “There’s the truck now.”

  “We’ll let you get on about your business, then,” Chandler said. “I need to feed my stock anyway. We’re heading out to work in a couple hours.”

  “Good luck to you, then,” Dovey said.

  Chandler shook his head and pointed skyward. “It’s all skill and the Man Upstairs.”

  Smiling, Dovey strode off toward the truck now idling in her yard. The dogs followed.

  Chandler slid a hand beneath Bethany’s arm, helping her to her feet. She wiped her hands on her leggings.

  “Do you mind if I take time to feed my horses? I can take you home first if you want.”

  Bethany shook her head. “No, I don’t mind.”

  C
handler smiled. “I appreciate that. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Actually, she was glad for the chance to spend more time with him.

  They climbed back into the truck cab, and he drove it around to the nearest of the barns. After backing the vehicle inside, he went into a small room in the front corner and came out with a wheelbarrow. The rest of the barn was filled with two rows of stalls built of narrowly spaced metal pipes, one down each side of the building. Bethany got out and watched as Chandler heaved bags of feed from the bed of the truck and stacked them in the wheelbarrow. He pushed these into the small room and unloaded them, then returned for more. The final bag he wheeled down the center of the aisle to the very back of the barn, Bethany following on his heels.

  No wonder those shoulders are so wide, she thought.

  He finally stopped near the sliding gate of the final stall. Arroyo was a stocky, light brown horse with a smoky gray mane and tail, his broad back neatly bisected by a line of the same color. A lineback dun, Chandler had called him. He was the horse that Chandler used for steer wrestling.

  Ginger Boy and Red Rover were a pair of matched bays with white blazes, reddish coats and black manes and tails. Each of them had bands of white, or stockings, on the lower front legs, and both were geldings. They were trained for team roping, and Chandler traded them off, using first one and then the other during competition.

  The fourth animal, a beautiful black with black eyes, was a stallion. “His name is El Rey Ébano,” Chandler told her. “It’s Spanish for King Ebony. I call him Ébano for short.” The horse tossed his head as if fully aware that they were talking about him. “He’s full of himself, this fellow, but he has reason to be.” He was no more proud of himself than Chandler was proud of him, though. That was obvious.

  Bethany stood back while Chandler went about feeding and watering the animals. It was done within minutes, then he pushed the empty wheelbarrow back down the aisle. Bethany followed him, right into the little room. It was black as night in there and smelled of hay and oats. She looked around curiously, making out stacked bags of feed on a hay-covered floor, various cans and brooms and a pair of wide shovels as well as bales of something labeled “bedding.” She assumed that was the shredded, spongy stuff on the stall floors. Chandler tilted the wheelbarrow up against one wall, turned and nearly mowed her down.