Mark gave that some thought. He wondered if he’d idolized the Dry Creek community in the years he’d been fighting in Afghanistan. Maybe he had, but he still thought it was the best possible place to live. He might ask Mr. Durham if he knew of any ranches for sale while they were over at his place.
Josh offered to wash the breakfast dishes and Mark went out to the shed to see if that old three-wheeler still ran. Just in case he had a hard time getting up on the thing, he didn’t want an audience. These people would have him in a coffin if he fell while doing something as simple as that.
* * *
Bailey had more energy in the mornings than she had any other time of day so she sat down at the kitchen table after Mark and Josh left and made the phone calls that she needed to make. The propane tank would be filled by noon, a delivery of wood would be coming next Monday and Mr. Durham was relieved to have the Rosen cattle come home. He told her he’d help again if need be, but he was wondering if he was getting too old to be feeding cattle in the winter snows.
Rosie had sat in the recliner while Bailey talked on the telephone and the girl still seemed sleepy as Bailey brought out a coloring book, crayons and some blank paper for her daughter. She put a covering on the coffee table and got Rosie started on coloring a pirate ship. Bailey figured that would keep her daughter busy while she went through her suitcase and washed the clothes that had been to New Orleans and back.
Bailey finished her laundry and put it away before she looked at the clock and noticed it was almost noon. When she stepped over to the refrigerator to decide what to pull out for everyone to eat, she passed the window over the sink and saw that a few head of cattle were walking down the lane to the barn. She could hear more cattle bellowing and, out of habit, turned to make sure Rosie was safe. The girl was still coloring at the coffee table, but the pirate ship had joined a stack of what looked like discarded pages on the floor beside her.
“That’s pretty,” Bailey said softly as she walked over and sat down in the chair close to her daughter.
Rosie smiled as she lifted up her current drawing. “I made a princess.”
Bailey noticed the princess had red hair and a very bright pink dress with rows of ruffles and a matching parasol. If she interpreted everything right, there was a brown dog sitting beside the princess, too, and it looked an awful lot like that stray Mark had brought home.
“We’ll have to put your picture on the refrigerator,” Bailey said.
“We can’t,” Rosie said firmly. “I need it for Markie so he can tell me a bedtime story tonight.”
Bailey held out her arms and her daughter stood up and stepped into her embrace.
“I don’t think Mark will be able to tell you a story tonight,” Bailey whispered against her daughter’s hair. “You and me—we can make up a story though. Won’t that be fun?”
Rosie didn’t answer.
Bailey didn’t press her point, but she noticed Rosie took her princess picture into the bedroom and set it on the chair that they used for storytelling. She wished she knew what to do for her daughter. She tried to distract her with thoughts about the new baby and that worked for a while.
For the first time in her pregnancy, Bailey hoped she would have a male child. She might be wrong, but she didn’t think young boys got their hearts broken as easily as young girls. Mark had been the only young boy she’d known and she couldn’t remember a time when he had been as disappointed in someone as Rosie was now. But then, she reminded herself, Mark might just have never expected anything from anyone so he had no expectations to be squashed.
They had meatloaf sandwiches for lunch and the men said they would be late for dinner since they had some work to do to get all of the cattle back home. Josh suggested she just fill and leave them two foil-covered pie tins that they could heat when they were done with the job.
Bailey was tired enough to agree. She did some housework and then put Rosie to bed early and crawled in with her. Neither one of them mentioned a bedtime story.
“Lord, bless us and keep us,” Bailey whispered as she drew her daughter close and kissed her on the forehead. She couldn’t help but notice the dried tears on her daughter’s cheeks.
Bailey knew she needed to do better. In a few months, when the baby was here and she had her energy back, she would start looking for a husband—someone steady who would win Rosie’s heart and be willing to love the both of them. She knew she had told Mark she would never get married again, but she had changed her mind.
She supposed she’d have to bring out her high heels and those clingy dresses again. She sighed. It might be longer than a few months before she was ready for that. Maybe she should try one of those internet dating sites. If they asked for requirements, she would list that the man would have to be willing to tell bedtime stories that featured princesses and fairy-tale kisses.
Chapter Seven
Mark’s leg was sore the next morning so he stretched it out as he lay in his bed. These mattresses had been old and lumpy when he left years ago and they hadn’t improved any. His back hurt. But the air in the bunkhouse was warm and light was streaming in the windows. They had given the place a good sweeping out yesterday and it felt like home, especially because he’d brought the dog over and the animal was now dozing on a tattered blanket in front of the propane stove.
Mark stifled a moan as he stood.
“I figured you’d regret moving all the cattle yesterday,” Josh mumbled, his head still partly covered with a quilt. “I told you we could move the rest of them today.”
“Today has other work that needs doing,” Mark said.
Josh looked up and squinted at him. “I thought you were planning to take Bailey into Miles City today to get groceries. You left that note when we got back yesterday to remind her.”
“Well, yes,” Mark said as he rocked back on his bare feet a few times. That was an exercise his doctors had recommended. “That’s my plan. I might buy her lunch someplace, too.”
“I thought so,” Josh said in triumph. “That’s not work. It’s a date.”
“We have to eat,” Mark said calmly. “Pregnant women especially need to eat regular like.”
“What do you know about it?” Josh asked skeptically.
“I read about it last night,” Mark said as he picked a tattered paperback off his nightstand and held it up. He’d found it on the bookshelf in the other room.
Josh started to laugh. “Don’t you dare show that to Bailey.”
“Why not?” Mark asked. “It’s about what to do for pregnant—”
“Cows!” Josh interrupted. “It’s for pregnant cows.”
“Well, I know that,” Mark said. “But some principles go for all species. Eating well has to be one of them.”
Josh shook his head. “Just don’t show her that book. That’s all I have to say.”
The two men finished getting dressed quickly and set out for the main house for breakfast. Bailey came to the door in her robe and instructed them to help themselves to whatever they could find to eat for the morning. She was, she said, still getting ready for the trip into Miles City.
“I hope you plan to eat breakfast before we go,” Mark said as he stood by the door and took off his boots.
“I’ll find something,” Bailey said as though it mattered little.
Josh caught Mark’s eye and cautioned him with a shake of the head.
Everyone was silent for a minute.
“I’ll make you a sandwich to eat in the car,” Mark finally said. “You always did like sandwiches.” He tried to think of what she’d like these days. “Maybe a turkey with arugula and honey mustard?”
Bailey turned to stare at him. “I don’t have arugula in the refrigerator. You probably won’t even find a limp piece of lettuce. How about peanut butter and jelly?”
“That’s what you liked when we were kids,” Mark prote
sted. “Your tastes—your hair—everything seems to have changed so much that I thought your taste buds would have, too.”
“I might do my hair differently, but I am the same person I have always been,” Bailey said emphatically.
“Peanut butter and jelly it is then,” Mark said. Knowing she hadn’t changed inside made him feel good.
Bailey turned to walk back to her bedroom and Mark glanced over at Josh. The other man just grinned at him.
“Wear something fun,” Josh called out to Bailey. She didn’t even turn and answer him.
“I hope she has sense enough to wear boots with good tread,” Mark said, fretting a little now that he realized all that could go wrong with taking a pregnant female of any species out on icy streets.
When the men walked into the kitchen, they saw Rosie sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cornflakes.
“Mommy said I get to go see Mrs. Hargrove today,” the girl announced a little defiantly. “She makes me cookies.”
“You’ll have fun,” Mark said.
Rosie looked at him solemnly and then nodded. “She likes me.”
Mark thought that was an unusual remark for Rosie to make, but by then, he was reaching up into the cupboard for two more bowls.
An hour later, Mark and Bailey had dropped Rosie off with Mrs. Hargrove and they were on their way to Miles City. A paper bag of sandwiches nested on top of the cup holders between the two seats in the pickup. Bailey had eaten one sandwich, but there were two more for later if needed.
“And remember I’m going to take you to lunch,” Mark said. “No fast-food place either. A regular sit-down restaurant so we can relax.”
“It can’t be a booth,” Bailey said, a faint pink flooding her cheeks. “I can’t fit in them anymore.”
That book last night hadn’t mentioned how beautiful a pregnant woman could be when she blushed. Mark decided Bailey looked like a Madonna painting by one of those Dutch masters. Of course, she had a lumpy knit scarf instead of one of those loose ones that wrapped around a woman’s head.
“A table then,” Mark said, correcting his plans with a nod. “With a white cloth on it and goblets for the water.”
Bailey frowned. “It doesn’t need to be that fancy. A coffee shop will do.”
Mark shook his head. He couldn’t imagine feeding Madonna a hamburger wrapped in a foil paper and calling it dinner. “With the baby coming, it might be a long spell before you can go out to a nice restaurant again so we should take advantage of the chance.”
“But I never go to those kind of places,” Bailey protested. “I don’t need all that.”
“I do,” Mark said. He was going to insist on this.
“Oh,” Bailey said, giving in sooner than he expected. “You’re right,” she added.
Mark congratulated himself on getting her to agree and then she kept talking.
“You’ve just come back to the States and you should have a special meal,” she said, fussing a little with her scarf. “It would be quiet at least in a place like that.”
He looked at her in confusion. “Why is that important? Are you feeling okay?”
“It’s not me,” she said. “In a nice place you wouldn’t have to worry about any toy guns or balloons popping or anything like you might find in a fast-food place. You could relax and not worry about that PT-whatever stuff.”
Mark nodded. He got the message. “I’m fine.”
“You could talk to my doctor if you wanted,” Bailey continued, unwinding the scarf from around her head. “He is a baby doctor, but he knows about all kinds of stress. There’s no worse stress than a screaming baby.” She looked at him then in dismay. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I meant the noise isn’t as bad as war, but—well, I’ve heard such good things about this doctor. Several women at church went to him and recommend him highly.”
Mark gave up. “Okay.”
“You’ll talk to him?” she asked, clearly surprised and pleased.
“Yes.” He wanted to talk to her doctor and this was his chance.
A few minutes later, Mark added, “What kind of food do you want? I don’t know what kinds of restaurants we can find in Miles City, but I’m sure they have a nice steak place.”
All Montana towns of any size had a good steak place, Mark figured.
“I’ve heard there’s one that has grilled mushrooms that are very good,” Bailey offered. “Over on Hamilton Street. It has fish and steak. Junior always promised to take me there. We never made it though.”
Mark wanted to ask her why she had married Junior in the first place, but he didn’t want to spoil the day.
“Anything else you want to do while we’re in Miles City?” he asked.
“We could see if we could find one of those whirly-twirly things or a Ferris wheel,” she said, her tone serious.
“But we can’t,” Mark sputtered, turning to look at her in astonishment. That book he’d read on cows never said anything about this kind of thing. “You’re pregnant!”
“I know,” Bailey said with a sigh. “It’s just that there’s so much I can’t do—I can’t even get into my regular clothes. Or climb stairs. Or sleep through the night without needing to get up to go to the bathroom a million times. I just wish we could have a little fun like we used to when we were kids.”
“I don’t remember that much fun,” Mark said cautiously.
“Just being with you was fun for me,” she said.
“You were the one who made things special,” he replied. And it was true. Bailey had been his world.
They were silent for a while and then Bailey said, “I guess I’m just anxious for the baby to come. I’m tired of waiting.”
“I can understand that,” Mark said. “Maybe the doctor’s office will be fun.”
Bailey looked at him skeptically. “He doesn’t even have suckers to give out. Or balloons.”
“Well, after we see your doctor, I thought we’d go to the place where Arnold works,” Mark said, knowing it was lame, but it was the best he could do. “Josh said they have some good shirts with long sleeves. Department store sizes don’t always fit me right. Maybe they’ll have some western jewelry, too. Or leather purses.”
“That will be nice,” Bailey said, looking pleased. “I used to go there with Eli to buy his shirts. Arnold was always glad to see us when we went, too. I think he misses the ranch.”
Mark nodded. “Well, then.”
He decided to quit while he was ahead. Maybe he’d ask the doctor if there was an exciting restaurant in Miles City, maybe one of those that had a big fish tank inside or travel pictures on the walls. That might make Bailey feel like she’d had an adventure.
* * *
Bailey had to walk slowly as they headed to the doctor’s office and Mark insisted on her holding his arm, but she was nervous every step of the way. She probably wouldn’t even be able to walk up to a Ferris wheel let alone take a ride on one.
“Quite a few doctors share this reception area,” she said as Mark stood on a rubber mat and scraped the snow off his boots. “Five or six, at least.”
She hadn’t really thought about Mark being inside the waiting room with all these pregnant women. It was rare for a man to be part of these midday appointments. She wasn’t quite sure how to warn Mark though.
“There will be other patients,” she said. “Pregnant ones. Lots of them.”
He only nodded.
“My doctor might not even be available,” Bailey added. He always said he could squeeze her in if she wanted to see him about something, but it might be a busy day and he might not have time to see Mark, as well.
Mark opened the door and they both hurried into the warmth of the shared waiting room. A dozen or so women looked up to see who they were.
Bailey nodded. She knew most of them even though they all had different doctors. She blu
shed when she saw the women each looking Mark over and giving her a subtle nod of approval.
“I’ll talk to the receptionist,” Bailey said as she let go of Mark’s arm.
She didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression. She turned to the women sitting around in matching chairs. “Mark is helping me because of the icy sidewalks.”
The women nodded and Bailey watched as Mark went and sat right in the middle of the women. She held her breath, sure he would be shy with so many women. To her surprise, he didn’t seem to mind at all. She frowned a little. He never used to be that comfortable with girls when they were growing up together. She was the only one he would even talk to. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that—seeing him chatting away like the women were his buddies.
Her doctor insisted on seeing Bailey first and said he’d save another ten-minute slot for Mark.
“You need to rest more,” the doctor said as he helped Bailey to her feet after their discussion. “You’re going to need your strength.”
The nurse called Mark’s name as Bailey came back into the waiting room.
The women barely let her sit down before they leaned over toward her.
“Well,” one of them said with a dramatic sigh. “That certainly isn’t Mrs. Hargrove with you today.”
“No, I—” Bailey started to explain and stopped.
“Is he the one?” another woman asked, making a big point of fanning herself with one of the clinic flyers. “If he is, he’s hot, hot, hot.”
The woman grinned as she put down the flyer.
“The one what?” Bailey asked, confused. She had been in several pregnancy preparation groups with these women, but they hadn’t talked about that many personal things.
“You know, the one who had Junior so bothered,” a different woman said with a smile. “Remember, you told us he’d given you a hard time about a man. I would guess Mark would give any man a run for his money.”
Bailey had forgotten about that one time she had talked about Junior.
His Dry Creek Inheritance Page 9
