Tall, Dark & Western

by Anne Marie Winston

  She caught her breath. She hadn’t even entered that room since the day she’d arrived. “Are you sure you can deal with that?”

  He nodded, his smile going soft and sad around the edges. “It’ll be okay.” He exhaled, and he smile grew wry. “Then you can invite the dragon to visit.”

  “The dragon…you mean Millicent!” She was giggling. “I don’t know. She can be a little overbearing.”

  “So can I.” Marty caressed her cheek. “You want Bobby to know his grandmother, don’t you?”

  As she nodded, he said, “Then let her come to visit. Trust me to take care of you, angel. I won’t let her railroad you into anything.”

  She nodded, rubbing her cheek again his big, rough fingers. “All right.”

  Marty nodded in satisfaction. Then he leaned over Bobby again. “Hey, big guy, wanna play peek-a-boo?”

  She laughed at the incongruity of the big broad-shouldered man playing baby games with an infant, but inside, her heart was singing. If Marty could get past his sorrow enough to love her son, surely he’d be thrilled with a child made by the two of them.

  She was fairly certain she was pregnant now. Her period was a month overdue and her breasts were incredibly tender, just as they’d felt in the early stages of her first pregnancy. It would be a while, though, before she started to show. So she’d wait just a little longer before telling Marty and changing the status quo once again.

  The rest of the month of March was quiet due to two more blizzards and high winds that kept drifting the roads shut, which suited Marty just fine, except for the danger to newborn calves. He and Deck moved all the heavy cows into pastures near the barn and kept a close eye on them as calving season began in earnest in April.

  He pulled backward calves that were coming feet first and ones that got stuck halfway born. He tugged on heifers’ tails to get exhausted, temporarily paralyzed cows back on their feet after rough births. Juliette was horrified the first time she saw him do it, until he explained that it gave the cow enough balance to get her back legs under her and get to her feet. A couple of heifers had been covered by the neighbor’s wandering Charolais bull, and he and Deck both cussed and swore as the cows struggled to deliver the too-large calves. Twice he had to call the vet, once to deliver a dead calf by C-section and once to replace a prolapsed uterus. He was gratified that both the cow and calf survived that one.

  He taught Juliette how to walk through the herd looking for cows with larger-than-normal bags, which might mean a sick calf that wasn’t sucking. She quickly developed an amazing talent for seeing which calves were getting sick—something that he’d never figured out until they were lying too still—and they were able to shove scours pills into them so fast that they only lost a few.

  Most of the time he was too tired to think, which was just as well. He rose in the dark, fed, medicated and birthed cattle all day, and he fell into bed at night only to rise and go through the same routine again and again. He and Juliette made love in the mornings, when his desire for her would beat back the exhaustion for a while, and her calm management of the house made calving season easier than it had been since Lora died. Still, he felt like someone had knocked him down and stomped all over him. Figuratively, if not literally.

  He hadn’t felt this…battered emotionally since Lora and the baby had died.

  He was filled with a puzzling blend of gladness and old sorrow, though the sorrow receded a little more with each day that passed, each new memory that eased the pain of the old ones. He felt guilty sometimes, afraid that he was forgetting. Then rationality took over and he knew life had to go on. Lora would have wanted him to be happy again.

  And despite the tiring work, his days were happy now, filled with those special moments that only parents know when a baby does something new and wondrous for the first time. Bobby sat up alone on the fifteenth of April, and when Juliette’s gaze met his across the living room as they laughed at the triumphant expression on the little guy’s face, he felt something in his heart click into place, something that had been missing for more than two years.

  Or maybe, if he was honest, he’d never known quite this feeling before.

  He loved her. God, how he loved her! She’d come with him, stayed with him despite almost impossible circumstances, when any other woman would have given up and left. She’d made his house a home again and taken his daughter into her heart as her own. He’d never expected or demanded that she get involved with as much of the actual work of ranching, but she was doing that, too.

  She was still fragile and alluring and wide-eyed and so sweet that he caught himself wanting her more than could possibly be good for either of them. It was probably a good thing he had work and they had kids to deal with, because if they’d been typical carefree newlyweds, he had a feeling they’d have worn out a couple of mattresses by now.

  He couldn’t remember ever having quite the same desperate need for Lora. Sure, he’d wanted her. They’d been young when they started dating and not much older when they’d gotten married. But…the bottom line was that he’d survived when Lora had died, had been able to somehow go on. Had been able to find this woman whom he now could admit that he loved. And whom he knew, deep down in his heart, loved him with the same intensity. Though he’d never encouraged her to say the words, her actions, the look in her beautiful blue eyes, the staggering passion she offered him along with her slim, perfect body all told him she loved him.

  And he knew if anything ever happened to Juliette, nothing else in the world would ever matter again. He would tell her so, he promised himself, just as soon as calving season was over and he could take half a day off. Deck owed him, from the summer before when he’d been courting Silver, and he thought it might be nice to simply take a picnic down by the river, tell her how he felt…and then make love to her until neither one of them could walk.

  The idea filled him with immense satisfaction, and he whistled as he went about his work in the last few days of April.

  By the first of May there were only a few dozen cows still to calve, and Marty told her he thought the worst was past. There was still branding, of course, but the days were getting longer and the temperatures were sneaking higher with each week that passed. The low had actually been above freezing a time or two, and everyone was feeling giddy at making it through winter.

  Juliette called Millicent as Marty had suggested. The older woman had leaped at the invitation to visit. She’d been significantly less abrasive and she’d actually asked a number of questions about how old Cheyenne was and what kinds of things she liked to do. If Juliette knew her former mother-in-law, Millicent would arrive on her doorstep with enough gifts to bribe any child. But even that prospect wasn’t daunting. Millicent had been far less demanding since Marty had recommended that she quit making threats. Regardless of how it happened, Juliette was thankful for the change.

  She’d begun gardening, as well. It was the first time she’d grown anything other than flowers and Lyn had been advising her. The two women had transplanted asparagus weeks ago, put in lettuce and radishes that were just starting to appear as the snow melted, and on one particularly warm day, she planted onions and potatoes in the soggy ground.

  Cheyenne was over at Silver’s for the day, “helping” with her cousin Erica, and Bobby was down for his afternoon nap, which usually lasted a solid two hours. She got the vegetables in and came back to the house covered with sticky mud.

  Marty saw her crossing the yard to the back door. He smiled and waved from where he was working on the tractor, and she blew him a kiss, then made a face when she tasted mud on her lips from her fingertips. She could still hear his laughter as she went inside.

  She stripped off everything in the utility room. It was strange how quickly she’d gotten accustomed to the isolation of the ranch. She would never have considered walking around naked before, for fear someone would come to the door or peep through a window. The muddiest clothing she dumped in the sink and rinsed, then she threw everyt
hing in the washing machine. After Marty came in and changed, she would do a load of the things they’d worn today. It was, she’d discovered, the only real method of keeping up with the interminable loads of filthy clothing a ranch seemed to generate.

  As she entered the bathroom and got ready to shower, she congratulated herself on having the foresight to bring her robe downstairs that morning and hang it on the back of the bathroom door. She was plenty warm now from her exertions, but she knew from experience that she’d cool down fast, and the air was still chilly enough to be uncomfortable.

  The shower felt heavenly as she rinsed away the grit and mud, shampooed her hair and lingered over soaping herself. When the shower curtain opened suddenly, she screamed and nearly dropped the soap.

  Marty roared with laughter as he stepped into the shower stall, crowding her back against the wall. He was stark naked and beautiful, heavily aroused—he’d clearly been thinking of joining her. He grabbed the soap and slicked his hands with it, then began to rub her shoulders. “Hi, there,” he said.

  She placed her hands against the hard pads of muscle defining his chest, exhaling in relief. “Hi. You scared me silly.”

  “Sorry.” His blue eyes were gleaming.

  She’d never seen a man look less sorry about anything in his life. Slipping her arms up around his neck, she brought her body closer to his. “Mmm, I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” His breathing was growing labored. He turned her around so that her back was to him and pressed her back against his body and she could feel him solid and throbbing against her. “But calving’s done now and we have time…”

  He rubbed his soapy palms over her breasts, and she couldn’t prevent the small sound that escaped as he circled the sensitive peaks and sent sensation soaring through her. She was so much smaller than he that he could easily look over her shoulder and she tilted her head back against his strong chest and let him look his fill. It had been so long since they’d had time for anything more than hasty but satisfying couplings stolen in the early-morning moments before he had to get to work.

  His hands moved down her body, shaping the flare of her hips and then sliding around to meet between her thighs, and he gently widened her stance so that he could touch her there. She moaned then, and as his questing, circling fingers pleasured her, she let herself go, moving her hips in time with his petting. The growing swell of sensual excitement pushed her higher and higher, and when he suddenly plunged one finger deep inside her, she reacted immediately, shuddering with her own completion as her body heaved in his arms.

  Marty’s breathing came in hoarse gasps as he turned her to face him. He reached behind her head and retrieved a small foil package from the shelf where he’d place it, and his hands shook as he tore it open. She took it from him, gently stroking the protection into place until he was groaning, gripping her waist and lifting her. He pinned her between his big hard body and the cool wall of the shower stall, and she gasped at the temperature of the cold tiles. Then she gasped again and forgot all about the chill as he reached between them and pushed himself inside her, his sturdy length a hot contrast to the cool wall, filling her so full that she could only wrap her legs around him and helplessly hold on to his shoulders as he began to thrust steadily in and out, moving her up and down on him with his hands on her hips and his head thrown back. The world receded to that one point of contact, of sensation, and she felt herself gathering taut again, exploding again before he increased his rhythm and brought himself to a plunging, driving finish, his heavy strength pushing her hard against the wall as he emptied himself deep inside her.

  He held her there for a long time until his breathing settled again. Finally he lifted her off him, wincing as the warm shower water sluiced over his sensitive flesh. He reached out and turned off the water, then whipped two towels over the top of the shower door, wrapping her in one as if she were a child. He took a moment to discard the protection he’d used before anchoring the other towel at his waist, and she had a moment’s guilty disquiet. She had to tell him soon about her pregnancy. She’d put it off far too long already. Maybe tonight…

  Then he lifted her into his arms, unlocking the bathroom door and carrying her up the stairs to their bedroom. “How much longer have we got?” he asked, indicating Bobby’s closed bedroom door as they passed it.

  She kissed his throat. “Maybe an hour?”

  “Not nearly enough,” he said, “but I guess we’ll have to make the most of it.” His blue eyes were warm and brilliant as he looked down at her, and her breath caught in her throat. She’d seen that look more and more often recently. And though she tried to tell herself not to read things into a simple glance, she couldn’t help but think that some part of Marty’s heart was opening to her at last.

  He set her on her feet beside the bed, in a shaft of bright afternoon sunlight that streamed through the window, drawing the towel away. “I want to look at you,” he said. “It’s been too long.”

  Alarm bells suddenly clanged in her mind. She was almost four months along now and finally starting to show a little, though she was sure he hadn’t realized it. She clutched at the towel, but he was too strong, and he pulled it away from her laughing.

  Then his laughter stopped—abruptly, as if someone had put a hand over his mouth. As his eyes narrowed, then widened in stunned incredulity, she saw that he recognized her pregnant state now.

  And he didn’t look happy about it.

  Eight

  “You’re pregnant.” His voice was flat and wooden, his eyes devoid of any warmth. He eyed her belly with the same look she’d expect him to use on a rattlesnake.

  His reaction was so far from the few fleeting imaginings of she’d allowed herself that she simply stood, stunned, too hurt to draw breath, until she realized she was cold. She felt naked, horribly, pathetically vulnerable. Turning away from him, she grabbed for her robe hanging at the foot of the bed and fumbled herself into it. “Yes.”

  Marty ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Dammit, Juliette! We never talked about having more children.” His voice grew louder, angrier. “How in hell could you do something like this to me?”

  She whirled around, stung by the accusation. “It was an accident,” she said fiercely. “I didn’t do ‘this’ to you!”

  “I don’t want more children,” he said harshly, slashing her heart to ribbons with the angry words, and she let her own anger rise, let her control snap, anything to deflect the searing pain his callous attitude inflicted.

  “Well then, you should have stayed out of the pantry!” she yelled at him.

  “The pantry…” She could see it the moment he remembered. He swore, a low, vicious stream. Then he speared her with a look. “How far along are you?”

  “Almost sixteen weeks.” She concentrated every ounce of her energy on holding her shattered emotions in check.

  “Oh, sweet heaven.” Marty sank down on the side of the bed, covering his face with his hands. “I don’t want more children.”

  The ugly words fell into the growing chasm between them.

  Every hope, every dream she’d had of the future, every idealistic notion of a loving lifetime with this man died in that moment. Backing away from him, she groped for the frame of the bathroom door.

  She saw him realize what she was doing, but she was already in the bathroom by then, and she slammed and locked the door seconds before he could spring across the room. On the other side he was shouting, roaring something, but she closed her ears to his demands and turned on both the sink and the shower, running precious drops of water to drown out his voice.

  He stayed there until she turned off the water. She steadfastly ignored his demands for her to open the door, but finally he swore and slammed both fists against the frame so hard it shook and she jumped. Then she heard his booted feet moving out of the room and down the hallway. She listened intently, peeking through the curtains of the single window as she heard the back door slam, and then she could
see him striding across the yard to the barn.

  Her chest ached with unreleased sobs, but she couldn’t afford to cry right now or she might never stop. Deliberately she blanked him from her mind, concentrating instead on the task at hand. With quick economic motions, she dressed and dragged one of her suitcases out of the closet where they’d been stored. She packed practical clothing, enough for a few days, then went into Bobby’s room and quietly got his things together. As she came back into the bedroom to put them in the suitcase, the sound of a jingling bridle drew her to the window. Marty was on his favorite gelding and as she watched, he rode off toward the ridge. The last sight she had of her husband was of his straight back in the saddle as he disappeared behind the hill.

  She used the telephone by the bed, making one call to Rapid City Regional Airport and one more to Lyn. Then she packed and dragged her suitcase downstairs. Swiftly she moved around the kitchen, picking out the things she’d need for Bobby.

  On the refrigerator hung a piece of butcher paper with a finger-painting that Cheyenne had done. The tears almost got away from her as she took it down and carefully laid it flat atop the things in the suitcase, but she took deep breaths until she felt the steely calm descend again.

  She was pregnant. Oh, God. Oh, God. What was he going to do if he lost her?

  Marty’s breath came in short, gasping pants as if he’d been running instead of riding. In his mind’s eye, a truck bounced across the rough ground and skidded to a stop beside him. Lora’s face was drawn with pain and fear.

  “I’m in labor.”

  He’d been stunned. “But…you’re not due until—”

  “You tell the baby that. I’m going to the hospital now!” She’d been screaming at him by the end of the sentence, and he’d quickly moved into action, turning his horse loose and sliding behind the wheel.

  He’d called Deck on the car phone to come collect the horse and turned the truck toward Rapid City, praying the whole way.