Alex took off his hat and dusted it across his thigh. Once, and then again. When he fastened his blue eyes on her, she could see that he was angry, too. Good. She could handle anger. It was sweet-talk she had trouble with.
He pursed his lips. “I’m only interested in what’s rightfully mine, Annie.”
Anger fled and fear replaced it. He didn’t get a say in this. She wouldn’t allow it. Not today. And definitely not later. He’d forfeited his right to anything of hers the last time he’d said goodbye. Make that the last three times. “Rest assured, Alex, that I have nothing of yours, except a dog. You’ll be happy to know that the dog you hit is recuperating and will probably be ready to go home day after tomorrow. Turns out her owner died, and the dog was lost. I told the vet at the Sheridan clinic that you’d be adopting Footloose just as soon as she’s well. Congratulations, you’ve escaped the bonds of fatherhood only to run smack dab into the responsibilities of pet ownership.”
Alex frowned. “Footloose?”
“The dog.” Annie had made up the name on the spot, and thought she’d been downright clever with it, too. “What a coincidence. Footloose the dog and Footloose the guy. Must be fate that brought the two of you together.”
“I can’t take care of that dog, no matter what its name is.”
My point, exactly, Annie thought. “Then I guess you’ll have to find somebody else to adopt her,” she said. “Considering you’re the one who caused the injury, I’d say that makes her your responsibility.”
“I didn’t hit her.” Alex shoved a hand through his tangled hair and slapped his hat back on his head. “Can’t you keep her?”
“No,” Annie said in no uncertain terms. “No. This is something you’ll have to take care of yourself. She’ll be ready to leave the clinic day after tomorrow, and I will expect you to be here to pick her up, Alex.” She turned to go back inside, more sure than ever that she was doing the right thing. If he couldn’t imagine taking care of a forty-pound dog, how could she ever let him assume any responsibility for a child?
Oh, yes, she was certainly within her rights to lie to him about the baby. And, all things considered, she thought she’d handled this first, difficult confrontation with poise and aplomb.
Even if all she’d really wanted to do, all she still really wanted, was to welcome him home with a kiss that would set his boots on fire.
Chapter Two
This was not the way Alex had thought his day would go.
He’d anticipated an argument, sure. But not with Annie. He hadn’t even expected to see her so soon. But here he was, watching her walk away from him, and noting the new swing in her walk, attributing it to the pregnancy, and ultimately wondering how she could handle the often heavy work of doctoring animals. What had happened to Dr. Dex, anyway? He was too old to quit, too ornery to retire. But there was Annie, the only veterinarian anywhere in sight.
Alex supposed he could ask Genevieve, but like as not she wouldn’t tell him. Most people said that everything Doc Dex knew about being contrary, he’d learned from Genevieve. Besides, at the moment Alex didn’t really care why Annie was working the clinic and her uncle wasn’t. He cared that she was going to have a baby. He cared, as well, that she didn’t seem to want him to have any part of it. He cared that she seemed bound and determined to lie right to his face.
This is not your baby, she’d said. Flat-out. As if she didn’t have a doubt about it. Well, he didn’t have any doubts about it, either. It was his baby...no matter what Annie said.
Koby nickered, and Alex looked over at him, feeling a surge of respect for the magnificent animal. He was flashy, with his quick moves and tough-guy attitude. He was nearly too smart for his own good, too, but Alex had seen the potential in the horse’s fluid coordination, the way he responded to voice intonations and the touch of a human hand. Koby was the best damn cutting horse Alex had ever seen much less trained. He had better cow sense than a whole passel of bovine experts. And he had it despite being the descendent of rather ordinary parents and in spite of being all but ruined by his first trainer. Kodiak Blue was an extraordinary horse, and he was going to have everyone connected to the quarter horse industry scratching their heads over his bloodlines while wondering where in hell he’d come from—and how in hell Alex had been the one to discover him.
Matt and Jeff would hit the roof when they found out, of course. They’d agreed, back in April, that the ranch would finance Alex’s foray into the world of breeding and training cutting horses. Matt had even studied up on the subject and suggested a handful of horses Alex might check into buying. Good horses, all of them, with a lineage traceable to the biggest money winners in AQHA cutting history. Alex knew his oldest brother was expecting him to come. home with one of those horses, not one that boasted no recognizable lineage and had one heck of a bad reputation to boot. But blood didn’t always run true, and a reputation wasn’t always a reliable measure of a horse. Or a man, for that matter. Alex knew he’d chosen wisely. He knew that with a couple more months of TLC and persuasive training, Koby would do all that was expected of him and more.
Now, if only Annie could be persuaded to be as responsive. Turning back toward the clinic, Alex weighed his options and found them woefully short on satisfaction. He could follow Annie inside, try to get her to talk to him. He could try the same tack with Genevieve, which was almost guaranteed to be frustrating and embarrassing. Or he could go on out to the ranch and take out his aggravation on whichever brother happened to be there. Matt, probably, but Jeff would do just as well.
Alex rubbed the back of his neck, weary from the long day’s driving, the tension of hurrying to get the injured dog to the vet’s, seeing Annie for the first time since Josie’s wedding, and finding out, too late, that once again he’d missed some very important months in her life. It kept coming back to that. Annie was pregnant and Alex had some questions that needed answerin’. Sooner rather than later.
If Annie wasn’t talkin’ and it was pretty clear she didn’t plan on it, then he’d have to ask elsewhere... and the best person to ask seemed to be his little sister. Josie, who always knew more than she told, but usually told something worth hearing, anyway. He’d just mosey back into the clinic and ask Annie if he could stable his horse at her place for the night. Probably made more sense to talk to Matt first before he took Koby out to the S-J. Give his oldest brother a little time to cool off before he actually saw the horse. And that way Alex would be guaranteed a bona fide excuse to come back later and talk to Annie again...after he’d had time to rephrase the questions and frame his own answers. One way or t’other, he was going to get Annie to admit that he’d had a part in making this baby. Then he’d be on firmer ground when he explained how he intended to have a part in his baby’s future.
And if that wasn’t enough to make a cowboy quake in his boots, Alex just didn’t care to know what else it’d take.
“ALEX!” Josie jumped up from the computer, pushed past the swinging, spindle-wood gate that divided the Bison City Bugle news staffers from the general public and threw herself into his arms. “When did you get into town?”
He hugged her tight, then stepped back and looked down. She was taller than Annie and carried her pregnancy higher and less out front, but pound for pound, he thought the two women were about at equal roundness. “What’re you hidin’ under that shirt, Jo? A Halloween pumpkin?”
She laughed, grabbed his hand and made him pat her stomach. “Say hello to your niece or nephew,” she said. “Although as much as the baby’s kicking today, it feels like there’s one of each in there.”
There was a puff of movement beneath his hand and Alex pulled back, uncomfortably aware of how little he knew about what went on inside a woman while a new life formed and grew. “Must be protesting your disastrous taste in radio stations. Sheesh, Josie, haven’t I taught you better than to listen to rap music?”
She thumped him lightly on the arm. “That’s not rap, you idiot. It’s a language tape. I’m teac
hing the baby to speak French.”
“Shucks. I was sort of hoping the little dickens would come out speaking English.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “If you had your way, Alex, this baby would come out wearing a cowboy hat and he’d behave just like Clint Eastwood in those old spaghetti Westerns.”
“Well, not if it’s a girl. I wouldn’t want any niece of mine going as long as he did without a bath.”
She pinched his arm with well-aged affection. “Your niece or nephew is going to learn something about culture from the world outside of Bison City, Wyoming, and that means the language tape keeps playing.”
Alex grinned, loving his dark-haired, optimistic little sister. “Well, if you just want him or her speaking another language, I can teach ’em all they need to know in one easy lesson.”
“Oh, sure, you could. And just how much French do you speak?”
“French kiss, French fries and French toast. The three best things ever to come out of France,” he said decisively, waiting for her laugh... which came with another jab on his arm.
“It’s a good thing you’re not around much. Not only would this child pick up your skewed sense of humor, but you’d have Justin’s son swaggering all over the place, talking like his redneck uncle.”
“I plan on teaching him the real important stuff,” Alex agreed. “Like how to persuade his sister to go across the street to the Chuck Wagon Café and partake of a piece of Nell Murphy’s cherry pie. With a scoop of cherry vanilla ice cream. Maybe a cup of coffee, too. Heck, I might even tell the little guy that once in a while it’s okay to ask his sister for advice.”
Instantly intrigued, Josie cocked her dark head to one side. “Advice? You’re asking me for advice?”
Alex shrugged. “Depends on whether or not you spring for the coffee and cherry pie.”
“You are a card-carrying, bona fide tease, Alex McIntyre,” she said. “And I’m so happy to see you I’d pick the cherries, pit ’em and make the pie myself.”
“Now, there’s a scary thought. Let’s just enjoy Nell’s home-baked goods and save your energy for gossip.” He glanced around the newspaper office, waving to Ramona Helt, who was on the phone, probably trying to convince Asa Mills over at the Shop’n Stop to take out a quarter-page ad in next week’s edition. The rest of the newspaper office was a conjugation of inactive verbs, empty chairs, stacked papers, messy desks—all but one deserted—although to be fair, the Bugle had never been a beehive. “Not exactly a hoppin’ place,” Alex said. “Where is everybody?”
“If you mean our crackerjack reporter, Ned, he’s out combing the county for news,” she answered as if it should be obvious. “Never know when a big story could break around here, you know.”
“Boy, do I. Where’s Justin?”
“He’s out soliciting advertising for our First Baby of Bison City 2000 contest. I did tell you about the contest, didn’t I?”
“I believe you mentioned it, yes,” he said, although she’d talked about little else during the whole of their last two telephone conversations.
“I’m just so excited about the whole idea. We only thought of having a contest a few weeks ago, but it’s really taken off. I mean, who would have thought our little town would have so many babies due right about the same time? And just as the new millennium begins, too. There’s something so...cosmic about the whole thing, don’t you think?”
“Either that or someone spiked the water hole with Love Potion #9.”
Josie grabbed her wallet and signaled to Ramona that she was going across the street to the café. “Well, whatever prompted this baby boom, it’s good for Bison City. The contest is already off and running, and people are talking about it all the time. We’re putting together a nice cash prize, plus lots of donated stuff, for the winning mother and baby, plus we’re going to raise enough cash to update some of the hospital’s antiquated equipment. That way all us mommies-to-be won’t have to drive clear into Sheridan to have every little test done.”
Alex tugged at his hat brim as he held the door for Josie and followed her outside onto the sidewalk. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m real anxious to hear about all these new mommies to be.” One, in particular . “Just how many would that amount to? All told?”
He caught the glint of calculation in Josie’s eyes, noted the way her gaze shifted to him and away, knew she was trying to decide whether to bring up Annie’s name. “Let’s see, there’s me, of course. Then, Barbie Ward. Her baby’s really due the first week of December, so she’s a real long shot to win the prize. But she wanted to enter, so I count her, too. Then there’s Dr. Elizabeth Lee. She’s my obstetrician and new to town. You haven’t met her. Her due date’s in January, but Annie—I thought Elizabeth ought to be part of the contest—especially since she’ll be delivering most of the babies. So she’s in it, too. Then there’s Rachel Holcomb. She moved out of the city limits, but she’s still in the county, so she counts, too. Plus her due date’s the same as mine, December 29. Oh, and you remember Katie Watts, don’t you? She and Jimmy Thomas got married a year ago February, and they’re expecting about the same time. I forget her due date, but it’s close. And then, just when An—I start talking about all the people we know who’re pregnant and how maybe we should have some kind of contest or something, the Forsythe twins move back to town with their husbands and guess what?”
“Let me guess.” Alex wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed by this largesse of the stork or searching the scriptures for a sign. “They’re both pregnant, too?”
Josie’s smile sparkled with excitement. “Bingo. It’s just a baby blizzard. At this rate, we’re going to have to post warnings at both ends of Highway 34, warning women not to drink the water.”
“It’d be kinder to warn the men that the hormonal levels in Bison City are dangerously high and they might want to detour around town.” He looked both ways—more because he’d learned to be a right bit careful while living and driving in San Antonio, than because there was much traffic here—before taking Josie’s arm and starting across the street. “Anybody else I ought to know about?” he asked nonchalantly, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other. “Anybody claiming I might be responsible for this baby boom?”
She didn’t answer until they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the Chuck Wagon Café. “Is there some reason you think you might be responsible?”
He wished she’d laughed, taken his comment as the joke he half wished it was. “No reason. Just seems like every time I stop off at home, somebody accuses me of not being responsible. Thought I’d make sure which way the wind is blowing, before I go spoutin’ off any denials.”
“As if anybody believes you when you do,” she said.
“There’s only a handful of people whose opinions matter to me, anyway.” He reached for the door handle, but didn’t pull it open just yet. “So, Josie, is there anything else I should know?”
She frowned, gazed at him with sympathetic concern. “Annie’s pregnant, too, Alex. I sort of thought—hoped, maybe—you already knew that.”
He pulled the door open and followed her inside the small restaurant. A pungent blend of onion and fried chicken smells curled around them like smoke from a campfire. The Chuck Wagon couldn’t boast great cooking, but it delivered food that was hot, flavorful and filling, in short order. And Nell’s pies were the best in the West, bar none.
“I know about Annie,” he admitted, once he faced Josie across the speckled red Formica of their tabletop. “I’ve just come from the clinic. Found a dog hurt on the way into town. Took it in to get fixed up, never even suspecting Annie was working there.”
“Doc Dex is having some health problems. Arthritis and sheer orneriness finally took a toll on his energy, in my opinion, anyway. Then about the middle of May, Annie suddenly moved home, and next thing anybody knew, he’d called all his patients to tell them she was in charge and to leave him alone unless it was a dire emergency. And—I’m quoting him now—he’ll decide what’s di
re and what’s not. Annie’s living in the old house next door to the clinic. She’s fixing it up and planning to live there with the baby. It’s handy for her, being so close to work and all, but there’s a lot to do before the old place will be up to housing an infant.” Josie toyed with the toothpick holder, a bird that dipped down and brought up a single toothpick. The novelty item was a genuine antique, a holdover from the sixties. Nell Murphy had probably bought it new. “You just walked in and saw her, huh?” Josie asked gently. “That’s when you found out...about the baby?”
Alex shrugged, and knew he didn’t fool his sister for a second, knew she saw the hurt he couldn’t hide. “I guess that’s as good a way to find out as any.”
Josie’s blue eyes, so much like his own, turned soft with compassion. “I wanted to tell you, Alex, but...well, I just didn’t know how to say it over the phone. I kept hoping she’d write and tell you herself.”
“Annie’s never been one to keep in touch. Not with me, anyway.” On that morning last April, he’d left before she was awake. He’d left without a word about coming back. He’d left without sharing his plans, his hopes, his dreams. He’d left without making a commitment or a promise. He’d left her, as he’d done many times before, with no explanation or excuse. He’d just gone, before she could open her eyes and make him stay with a look. One look—that’s all it would have taken—and he’d have said to hell with the future.
But in his heart of hearts, Alex nurtured a strict sense of responsibility. He knew he had something to prove—to her, to his brothers, to himself. He knew what he had to do, so he did it, taking the coward’s way, leaving her there, knowing she wouldn’t be surprised when she awakened alone. He wasn’t sure Annie had even been much disappointed to find him gone. She didn’t expect any better from him because he’d never given her any cause to.
Baby by Midnight? Page 4