The two older brothers nodded in agreement, and Matt added, “Knowing we had to let you win took the challenge right out of it.”
“Bull patootie,” Josie declared. “I beat you all fair and square every time.”
“Did not.” Alex argued, grinning.
“Did, too.”
“I’ll swan,” Willie said, settling back in her favorite overstuffed armchair. “Will you young’uns stop fussing and let Josie explain to Justin and Annie how she got in trouble over yippie-ki-yiay?”
“I hold all of them—” Josie indicated all brothers with a nod “—equally responsible, although it was Alex who told me I could get extra points using genuine Cherokee Indian words.”
Justin started laughing right then. “Did you know any Cherokee words, Alex?”
“No, but Jo didn’t know that. Jeff and Matt came up with a bunch of them, but I made up the infamous yippie-ki-yi-ay.” He cleared his throat and smiled easily and especially at Annie. “I told her it was pronounced the way she’d always heard it, but spelled according to the Cherokee alphabet, with accent marks and everything, it turned out to look remarkably like yippie-kiss-my—uh, let’s substitute behind, as I’ve learned a little tact since then.”
Justin lost it and burst out laughing. As did Matt, Jeff and Alex. Josie watched them all with both exasperation and adoration, before she rolled her eyes and shared a “Men!” look with Annie. “Now, you understand why Mom and Dad always loved me best.” She shook her head and continued, “I went right to school ready to impress Miss Westner, my elderly and very proper second-grade teacher, with my new knowledge of the Cherokee language, and when it came time to write sentences using the week’s spelling words, I dutifully penned a beauty.” She paused, then delivered her sentence with enthusiasm, “‘Miss Westner has a boyfriend who rides and sings yippie-ki-yi-ay’ Spelled the way Alex taught me, of course.”
The men laughed harder and the last of the tension ebbed away, forgotten in their enjoyment of past brotherly crimes. Annie caught the look exchanged between Josie and Willie. Mission accomplished. The family gathering was once more full of shared memories and laughter.
Annie had missed out on all this. Or if she’d ever had a true sense of her family, she’d long since lost the ability to recall it She wanted her son to share in his heritage, too, she realized. Which meant she would have to claim it for him. Which meant she would have to tell Alex what he already knew—what probably every single person in this room already suspected.
And yet, in the telling, she would put Alex in another clash with his nemesis.
She wondered if he was ready to spell responsibility .
“LOOK AT THESE!” Alex held up a pair of tiny denim jeans. “And this.” Next up was a miniature set of chaps—cute as the dickens, although, in Annie’s opinion, completely useless. “Where do people find this stuff?”
Under strict orders to relax, Annie sat in the carved, wooden rocker and watched Alex put away the receiving blankets, sheets, towels and miscellaneous baby gifts received just that afternoon at her baby shower. “There’s a specialty store in Casper with nothing but Western wear for infants and children. Plus there must be a million catalogs floating around with novelty items of one sort or another.” She sighed, smiled, felt particularly weary on this cold Sunday afternoon at the end of October. “With all the attention the baby contest is generating for predictions on when all these new little cowboys and cowgirls will arrive, the town has gone baby crazy. Do you realize there’s a baby shower every weekend between now and the middle of December? I’m just glad mine was one of the first. Josie suggested one huge baby shower for everyone, but Willie and Nell thought that’d be too much work and not as much fun as individual and separate occasions, and since they’re basically in charge of planning the showers...”
Alex rummaged through a stack of diapers. “I knew I saw these while you were unwrapping packages.” He held up a diaper pin set—plastic cowboys on plastic bucking broncs at the ends of two large safety pins. “Who would ever have thought somebody would pay good money for these? I should have gone into marketing,” he said. “Like Jeff.”
“Oh, right. As if you didn’t make a hundredand-eighty-degree turn every time Jeff or Matt expressed so much as a passing interest in a career field. For a while, I thought you’d have no choice but to be a plumber or a chef if you were going to avoid any overlapping interest.”
“A plumber or a chef, huh? That’d be quite a stretch for a guy who was all but born on a horse...and born a McIntyre, to boot.”
“You’ve always been more outlaw than conformist, Alex. There have even been times when I expected you to sell out your interest in the S-J and never look back.”
“There were times when I thought about it, once when I even talked to my dad about it.”
“Hoping that he’d give you a shot at running the ranch instead of Matt?”
That struck a nerve. Annie saw the idea hit home, saw the flash of regret in his expression. “That was never an option for me and I knew it,” he said in a tone that was too offhand, too blithe to conceal the undertone of disappointment. “I never expected... never wanted that kind of responsibility.”
The words hung there, pulled down by the weight of the denial. “You could have worked with Matt,” she said, wanting him to see that he’d had a choice. “I think your dad always hoped you’d take an interest in ranch management.”
He shrugged, smoothed the wrinkles on a folded square of baby blanket. “Matt had that job pretty well sewed up before I came along. Which worked out for the best, anyway. Gave me the opportunity to be the explorer of the family.”
But she could tell by his tone he didn’t think “explorer” was much of an occupation next to “rancher.” “Have you ever considered the idea that you’ve made choices Matt and Jeff probably wish they could have made?”
“Now there’s a far-fetched notion. My brothers were born to carry on the McIntyre legacy, Annie. They knew from birth what choices they should make, and they’re sure as hell not envious of mine.”
“You’re as much an heir of that legacy as either of your brothers. You were born a McIntyre, too, Alex. The difference is you’ve just never been able to figure out what that means to you.”
He put the jeans, chaps and rodeo diaper pins in the top drawer of the changing table and a stack of one-piece sleepers in the bottom drawer of the honey-oak chest. She idly made a mental note to switch them later and set the chair to a gentle rocking, which in the silence, was soothing. His voice, when it came, drifted to her through a dreamy haze. “What is the McIntyre name going to mean to our son, Annie?”
She blinked, startled from the moment’s lethargy and by the unexpected question. “Our son?” she repeated, not sure what he was angling for.
He stopped what he was doing, straightened, squared his shoulders and faced her, looking tall, handsome and so very resolute. “That’s what I said, Annie. Our son. The one growing beneath your heart at this very moment.”
She’d known this talk was coming, had fooled herself into thinking she could choose the time and place, had thought she’d be ready. But here it was—and she was scared and not ready at all. “Ever since you’ve been back,” she said, keeping her voice light, noncommittal, “you’ve seemed pretty anxious to take responsibility for this little guy.”
“And you’ve seemed pretty eager to keep me from it.”
She rested her hands on her tummy and eased her way carefully, lightly, into the words. “It isn’t that...”
“Easy?” He filled in for her when she paused. “Isn’t that what you were about to say, Annie? Funny thing is I don’t recall asking you to make it easy. I only asked you to tell me the truth.”
The baby inside her stirred restlessly, perhaps sensing his parents had just taken aim at his future and each other. “Truth, Alex? The truth is you walked back into my life as if you’d just walked out the day before, and jumped to a big conclusion. Then you set about insistin
g I confirm it.” Old irritations stirred, stretched, sharpened their claws. “And you didn’t seem all that interested in what I had to say about it, either.”
“Oh, come on, Annie. I’m not some dumb cowpoke who can’t track a wagon through a mud puddle. Your story was tied up in knots from the beginning. A man you were in school with—perfectly believable. A fellow student who spent years getting a veterinary degree so he could join the Peace Corps and go to Africa? Admirable, but a little on the iffy side truthwise. A man named Bud Loofman?” He shook his head. “That has ‘made up’ written all over it.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him you think so.”
“You do that, just as soon as you locate an address for him. I’m not blind, either, Annie. There’re no pictures, no postcards, no trace of his existence in your life.”
She was angry now because he didn’t see what was so clearly in front of him. Her. Alone. No pictures, no postcards, no promises. No mementos of him...save one. “And how is that different from you, Alex?”
“It’s my baby, Annie. Be honest. Admit it.”
“Why? So you can carry a picture of a little boy in your wallet and show him off to your friends? So there’ll be someone else whose birthday you can never quite remember?”
He looked away, brought his gaze back to bear steadily on hers. “You may as well know this now, Annie. The Midwestern Cutting Horse Futurity in Denver is three full days, startin’ December 29. The finals will be New Year’s Eve. I’m riding Koby there that night.”
Of course. It was probably written in some book of ill-fated lovers somewhere that Alex wouldn’t be around when his son was born. No point in even asking which event held more importance in his eyes. No point in speculating whether the baby would come before or after the three-day event. Alex had made his choice already.
Suddenly all her own disappointments were mixed up with her protective instincts, and she lashed out at Alex in anger because he’d left her before and because he was getting ready to do it again. “You do what you have to do, Alex. But you’re not getting a walk-on part in my son’s life. You’re not going to pick and choose when you’ll show up to be a father and when something else takes priority. You’re not going to come within breaking distance of his heart.” She swallowed, dismayed by her outburst, by the pent-up emotional residue of too many goodbyes. “You’re not going to hurt him, Alex, because I won’t let you. This is my son. Mine. Not yours. Do you hear me? He is not your son.” She had never seen him look so pale, so stricken, and was instantly, genuinely sorry to have hurt him. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Sorry?” he repeated. “No, Annie. I think that’s my line. I thought I was finally getting this responsibility thing right, helping you prepare for the baby’s arrival, fixing up the place—nesting, I guess some folks would call it—taking care of his future by doing what I know how to do best. Training horses. But apparently I just don’t get it.” He smiled without a trace of humor. “Guess the joke’s on me. I finally come home thinking I know what I want to do with the rest of my life, and what d’ya know? All the mistakes I thought I wasn’t making have been right here all along, just waiting to spit in my eye.”
He strode purposefully to the doorway, and Annie tried to think of something to say that would stop him. But what was there left to say except goodbye?
Hand on the door frame, he paused but didn’t look back. “I appreciate your concern for the baby. But if he is a McIntyre, don’t think I won’t fight you to make sure he has everything that is rightfully his. And part of that is me, Annie. Bad as my influence may be, part of his heritage is me. Whether you or anyone else has any faith in my ability to be a good father, I intend to make sure my son knows he has one. That’s a promise.”
His footsteps resounded through the house like the terrible pounding of her heartbeat. Thud-thud-thud .
She heard the back door slam, and then there was nothing but the silence.
Chapter Ten
Annie closed the door, shutting out the worried animal sounds in the clinic’s waiting room, and looked at the telephone on her desk. She did not want to make this call. She did not want to hear the answer to her question.
But it wasn’t going to get any easier, so she took a deep breath, picked up the receiver and dialed the number.
“Josie?” She leaned against the edge of the desk. “It’s Annie.”
The pause was so slight, she probably would have missed it if she hadn’t been so keyed up and wired for trouble. “Hi,” Josie said brightly. “What’s up?”
“Typical Monday,” she answered. “Genevieve thinks the clinic’s overhead is eating into her retirement funds, so she’s double booked appointments all week.”
“Put the extra money aside and retire her,” Josie advised. “You’ll be dead tired for a while, but after that, you won’t have to put up with her everlasting bossiness.”
“I’ve tried to fire her, but she only laughs.” Annie managed a rueful smile, then realized no one was there to see her effort, anyway. “Besides, she’s probably right. The clinic wouldn’t last two weeks without her. Uncle Dex has reluctantly agreed to work for six weeks after the baby’s born, but he won’t do it unless Genevieve’s there to run the place. So I’m going to have to depend on her help pretty desperately after the first of the year.”
“Can you believe it?” Josie’s natural exuberance gushed over the phone lines. “Two months from now, it’ll be time for the babies to come. I hope they’re all born at the exact same second after midnight on December 31!”
“Don’t let Dr. Elizabeth hear you say that. Imagine our little three-bed maternity ward overflowing with women in labor.” Annie shuddered at the thought. “Plus, think what that would do to our contest. There’d be cries of a rigged contest all over the place.”
Josie laughed. “Mainly from the men, I’ll bet. I imagine every one of the women will be more than happy if they miss the New Year’s deadline by a week or more.”
“Only if it’s on the December side. I sure don’t want to be still waiting for this baby a week into January.”
“You’re absolutely right. I’m already so anxious to hold my son or daughter I can hardly stand it.”
“Still don’t want to know which one you’re having?” Annie imagined Josie’s head shaking from side to side in an emphatic no.
“We’d rather be surprised at the last minute. I sort of think it’s a boy, but Willie is adamant I’m having a girl. She says she’s had enough of rambunctious boys for a while.” Josie sighed happily. “As if I couldn’t give birth to a girl child who would give a whole new meaning to rambunctious.”
“A yippie-ki-yi-ay kind of girl?”
Josie laughed. “Exactly that kind.”
Annie gathered her courage and took the plunge. “I was wondering, Josie, if...you’ve talked to Alex today?”
The slight hesitation made the coming answer very clear. “Not exactly.”
Hanging on to a thin straw of hope, Annie held the phone tighter to her ear and waited.
“According to Willie’s account of events, it seems he and Matt had a long, and not entirely cordial, discussion late last night and then this morning.... He’s gone.” Josie sighed. “I’m sorry, Annie. I hoped he had, at least, said goodbye to you.”
He had. He’d said it very plainly. “Well, Alex never has been big on lingering farewells.”
“No,” Josie agreed. “I suppose it’s a little late in the game to start expecting him to change, huh? What about the horse?”
“Missing in action. The mammoth horse trailer, too.” Annie swallowed the urge to cry. “Both gone when I woke up this morning.” She hadn’t slept much, but enough so that she’d missed watching Alex drive off.
“And the dog?”
Loosey, thankfully, he’d left behind. “Looks like she’s mine for the duration.”
“You were right not to tell him he’s the father of your baby, Annie. Much as I hate to say this about my own brother, if he can’t e
ven take responsibility for a dog, he has no business with a child.” There was a funny little gasp from Josie’s end of the line, then a quickly phrased apology. “I can’t believe I just said that, Annie. That was so completely ... tactless.”
“Josie, I’ve got to go. Genevieve’s outside the door, arguing with Dinah about something. We’ll talk later, okay?” But she didn’t wait for Josie’s agreement. Annie just hung up the phone, without saying goodbye, and closed her eyes to fight back a flood of tears.
She’d known Alex was leaving last night. Some sixth sense called experience had been telling her since the day he got back that he would go. What else was all the money he’d spent on the house—all the fixing up, the miscellaneous necessities he’d bought for the baby—if not a way of letting her know that, once again, he wouldn’t be around for an important event in her life? So why did she feel as if the proverbial rug had just been jerked out from under her feet? If she’d expected Alex to leave from the second he returned, why was she now surprised that he had?
“Doc Annie? You in there?” The inquiry was followed by a tap at the door and then Genevieve herself. “I’ve put Ol’ Lady Green and her purrsian cat in exam room three, but you don’t need to be in a big hurry to get in there. It’ll do that old woman some good to have to spend ten minutes alone with that sorry excuse for a feline. Never saw such a mean-tempered cat in my whole life. Must be the company she keeps.” Genevieve started out, pulling the door to as she went. “Oh, by the way, that McIntyre boy left a check in the mailbox for boarding his horse, even though he’d already paid for the whole month of October. Wrote on the check, ‘For damages.’ You’ll need to check that out. See if there’s repairs to do: Can’t think why else he’d write that on there. Musta been in a hurry, that boy. Guess he had places to go.”
The door shut, either because Genevieve hadn’t noticed the tears running down Annie’s cheeks or because she had and was, belatedly, developing some sensitivity. Not that Annie cared. She was too involved in the realization that she’d been wrong about Alex all along. It wasn’t his lack of responsibility he was always running from, it was her lack of faith in him. It was her inability to trust him to be responsible and to do the right thing for her, for himself, for their son. No one wanted to give Alex the benefit of the doubt. Not Matt. Or Jeff. Not even Josie. And now, Annie, too, had failed to believe in him when he needed her to the most. If she’d been halfway sensitive to his needs all these years, she’d have invested her love not with the belief that he’d always be leaving her behind, but with the confident expectation that he’d always be coming back. Now, too late, she understood. Now, when he was gone for good.
Baby by Midnight? Page 17