The Texas Way
Page 23
Now her Riverbend paycheck was automatically deposited into an account in her father’s name—with Scott’s blessing. Nothing else proved the depth of his love for her so unequivocably.
When the loan was paid off, Twist and Shout would be the foundation stud for a breeding operation she would establish at the H & H. While Maggie might never be close to her parents, she’d always be grateful to them for providing the means to keep her and Scott’s dreams alive.
Suddenly Twister—as they’d inevitably wound up calling the foal—gave Orca a playful nudge and backed up, snorting in invitation. The huge boar continued rooting for piggy morsels in the grass. Twister advanced cautiously, nipped the Hampshire’s white collar and jumped back with a spirited little buck for good measure. Again the hog ignored him. When Twister lowered his tail dejectedly, Orca raised his head and grunted.
The two touched muzzle to snout a long moment, reminding Maggie of a similar scene between a magnificent stallion and a homely runt pig.
A white tissue miraculously appeared under her nose. She snatched it up and dabbed at her eyes. “Don’t pretend that doesn’t get to you, Scott Hayes, because I know differently.”
Scott’s chuckle rumbled in her ear down to her toes. Strong arms slipped around her from behind, and she leaned back into her husband’s embrace with a sigh of contentment. Had any woman ever been this happy?
He rested his chin on her head. “You ever have any…connections, with this foal, Maggie?”
She’d determined her gift emerged only when an animal was extremely distressed. “No, other than a sense of destiny, a feeling he was meant to be born. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “You’re supposed to be inside resting.”
“It’s too nice an evening to stay inside.” She watched Twister break away from Orca and streak across the paddock, his fluid action a replica of his sire’s. “Oh, Scott, isn’t he beautiful?”
“Squat and hefty, maybe, but beautiful?”
Maggie lifted her elbow and jabbed him in the stomach.
“Ohh, you mean the foal,” Scott said, a smile in his voice. He laughed and teased regularly these days. The somber cowboy with the weight of the world in his eyes had vanished. Another profound effect of the fire.
His hands joined hers over their baby. “I think you’re beautiful, Mrs. Hayes.” He nuzzled her neck. “Have I told you today that I love you?”
He’d mentioned it that morning after an oh-so-careful-but-wonderful attempt to bump up her dilation a centimeter. “No, Mr. Hayes, I don’t believe you have,” she lied.
“Well, I do, darlin’. So much it scares the hell outta me sometimes. If I ever lost you…”
Maggie’s vision blurred. “I know, Scott. Me, too. But if we spend our lives worrying about what might happen, we’ll miss the here and now. And this moment, this very one right now with you holding me, is so perfect I couldn’t bear to miss it.” His arms tightened, and she turned awkwardly in his embrace.
The kiss they shared was hot and sweet.
Thump! Their lips curved up at the same time. They broke apart and looked down.
“I swear he’s going to be born wearing cowboy boots,” she said.
“Nah, that’s just her mama comin’ out in her. She kicks like The Mule is all. I can’t wait to see you two butt heads.” Turning Maggie toward the house, he draped an arm over her shoulders and forced her gently into a waddle. They bumped hips in companionable silence.
Her gaze wandered over the changes an infusion of capital had wrought on the H & H. St. Augustine grass now carpeted the compound area. The house and barn were repaired and freshly painted a light, silvery gray. She’d chosen a hue three shades darker for the new front porch and window trim, and the contrast made a pleasing picture. The unseen changes were even more dramatic.
A new irrigation system gave Scott license to plant hardy native grasses and increase the size of the herd. Bandolero’s breeding fees had paid for a John Deere tractor that resided in a new storage shed behind the barn. They’d repainted or wallpapered every room in the interior of the house, and Scott had laid down a patterned no-wax vinyl in the kitchen to match the butter yellow walls.
At the back steps, Maggie paused, turned toward Pete’s trailer and cupped her mouth. “Seven o’clock. Bring the wine,” she yelled.
From his chair on the porch extension Scott had insisted on building for him, Pete nodded and waved. The old wrangler still put in full days, despite the two hired hands the H & H now employed. Scott had made it clear this was Pete’s home for as long as he lived, regardless of his ability to work.
She waved back and climbed the steps heavily. “I hope he remembers that Laura and Alec are coming with Ada and your dad.”
Scott opened the door, led her to his mother’s dainty rocker in the corner and helped her sit. “Are you kidding? I sent him to borrow Dad’s circular saw this afternoon, and the traitor wound up playing ‘horsey’ for hours. When I called, Ada had to pull Sarah off Pete’s back.”
Maggie chuckled at her mental image of the beautiful auburn-haired one-year-old and the wizened cowhand. Sarah was every inch Laura’s daughter, which of course made her irresistible. Pushing off with her toes, Maggie set the rocker in motion. She had every intention of rocking her own child to sleep in the room Patricia Hayes had considered the heart of the house.
“Why don’t you go grab the first shower,” Maggie suggested. “I feel like resting here a bit.”
Scott clumped to her side and shook a stern finger. “Don’t get up while I’m gone. I’m handling dinner tonight.”
She smiled ruefully. “It would take a forklift to get me out of this chair without your help.” She plucked his hat off and perched it on her stomach. “Now go.”
He bussed her on the cheek, straightened and headed for the hall. At the doorway he turned as if to say something and stared at her, instead. His expression grew achingly tender. “Ah, Maggie, you look so right sittin’ in Mama’s chair.”
She stored the perfect moment away with all the others this man had given her. “Life is strange, isn’t it? Who’d have thought when I turned up in your field over a year ago things would end up this way?”
“What way’s that?”
“The only way that counts, cowboy.” She swept up his hat, jammed it low on her head and grinned. “The Texas way.”
ISBN 978-14592-7776-2
THE TEXAS WAY
Copyright © 1996 by Jan Freed.
All rights reserved Except for use In any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or In any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the Imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all Incidents are pure invention.
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Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Books by Jan Freed
Title Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THIREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
/> CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
Copyright