Montana Mistletoe Baby

by Patricia Johns

  “You hungry, Miley?” She pulled down his food dish—which was really a medium-sized mixing bowl—took out the bag of dog food and filled the bowl to the top. Miley hopped up, paws on the counter, and snuffled his nose toward the bag.

  “Miley!” she said reproachfully, and he dropped back down to the floor. He didn’t need his paws on the counter to see over it. When she put his bowl on the floor, he immediately dropped his face into it and started to gobble.

  While Miley ate, she headed to the fridge to find her own breakfast. She felt just about as hungry as the dog. She grabbed a bag of bagels from the fridge and a tub of cream cheese. Then her cell phone rang, and she picked it up from the counter and punched the speaker button.

  “Dr. Jones, veterinary medicine,” she said.

  “Barrie?” She knew his voice right away, and she froze in the middle of cutting a bagel. Why did he have to sound like the same old Curtis? Her heart clenched, and she had to remind herself to exhale. Miley looked over at her, sensing her tension, no doubt.

  “Curtis,” she said, resuming what she was doing and attempting to keep her voice casual. “Everything okay over there?”

  “We have another sick cow.”

  Bovine respiratory disease could spread quickly in the right conditions, and it could decimate a herd if left unchecked.

  “A calf?” she asked.

  “No, this is a full-grown heifer,” he replied. “It’s out in the south field. I saw it this morning on my rounds, and she’s too big to just tip into the bed of a pickup and bring back to the barn, so I was wondering what the best course of action is in this kind of situation.”

  Barrie sank a butter knife into the cream cheese and began spreading it onto her bagel. This was going to be a breakfast to go.

  “I’ll leave in about ten minutes,” she said. “I’ll go with you to see her in the field. We might be able to leave her where she is, depending on how sick she is.”

  “Great.” He paused. “You sure this is okay? Not too early?”

  Barrie rolled her eyes. She was pregnant, not an invalid. She hated the kid gloves men used with her now that she was expecting, but there didn’t seem to be any avoiding it. Perhaps this could turn into a nice little anecdote for her presentation to the 4-H girls.

  “I’m a vet, Curtis,” she said wryly. “This is the job.”

  “Of course.” His tone softened. “See you soon.”

  Barrie hung up the phone and took a jaw-cracking bite of her bagel. “Eat up, Miley,” she said past a mouthful of food. “We’re leaving.”

  Ten minutes later, Barrie was dressed, Miley had finished his breakfast and she had her own breakfast in a plastic container on the seat beside her. Her veterinary bag and other portable equipment were in the bed of the truck, and Miley was in the back seat, breathing dog breath over her shoulder. He was the worst back seat driver.

  “Miley, give me some space,” she said, pushing his jowly face away from hers. “Miley!”

  He ignored her until she pointed and said, “Lie down, Miley.”

  Miley heaved a sigh and folded himself into the seat, his nails scratching against the vinyl. Lying down back there was no easy feat for a dog Miley’s size.

  “Good dog,” she said with a smile. “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

  Miley made a conversational growling noise. It was his way of giving a verbal reply without getting into trouble for barking in the vehicle, and Barrie put her attention into driving.

  Betty Porter’s ranch was about forty minutes outside Hope. Barrie had done some work with Betty’s livestock in the past few years, but her most vivid memories of the place would always be from when she’d been married to Curtis. They used to go to Betty’s place for dinner sometimes, and it had always been so warm and cozy. Curtis used to slide a hand up her leg under the table, which had embarrassed Barrie to no end. It amused Curtis just as much when she’d blush and Betty would give her a quizzical look. Barrie pushed the memories away.

  She’d been in love with the soft-hearted rebel in Curtis, but that rebellious streak also made living with him difficult. Curtis was better at sneaking out to see her than he was at coming home to see her. He’d been better at seducing than he was at supporting.

  And he was back. Seeing him again stirred up a confusing cocktail of old feelings. She’d married a bull rider but hadn’t been successful in taming him. That was how wisdom was earned—through mistakes—but even if she hadn’t married him, she’d have lived to regret it. Curtis Porter was a no-win situation.

  The miles and minutes clicked past as she ate her breakfast one-handed, and before too long, she came up on the side road that led to the Porter ranch. She signaled and turned, scanning the familiar landscape. This mile marker, the copse of trees at the edge of the first field...she knew this area like the back of her hand.

  Dealing with her memories of Curtis was hard enough, but adding the real man into the mix seemed foolhardy, even now. Why couldn’t he have just stayed away? The timing was awful—she was already off balance with the baby coming and her mom’s recent death. If it weren’t for her pregnancy, she might have been able to deal with all of this more easily...maybe.

  Miley started scrambling again as he tried to get up.

  “Hold on, Miley,” she said as she turned in to the gravel drive. “Almost there.”

  Barrie took Miley with her on veterinary calls quite often. Not only was he good company, but she felt safer with him at her side, too. Not every ranch was equally well run, and some of them housed some rather slimy employees who stepped just a little more carefully around her with a dog Miley’s size staring them down. He’d never been tested to see how far he’d go to protect his mistress, and that was probably for the best.

  Barrie pulled to a stop next to the ranch house and turned off the engine. The front door opened almost immediately and Curtis came outside. He was already in a coat and boots. He’d always been a tall man, but he looked broader and bulkier now that he was firmly in his manhood. If only he’d aged a little less attractively...

  “Alright, Miley,” she said quietly. “Let’s go.”

  Barrie pushed open her door and hopped out, then opened the back door for Miley, who followed her. Curtis’s step hitched just once as his gaze landed on the dog, and she couldn’t help the smile that twitched at her lips at his reaction.

  “You rode bulls,” she said wryly. “This big old baby shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “He’s almost as tall, too...” Curtis put out a tentative hand, and Miley sniffed him.

  “Meet Miley,” she said. “He’s my right-hand dog.”

  “Hey...” Curtis let Miley sniff him again, then stroked the top of Miley’s gray head. “You’re a big fella.”

  Miley rolled his eyes back in ecstasy and nuzzled closer to Curtis like the big baby he was. She heaved a sigh. When Miley looked back at her, the dog froze for a moment, his eyes locked on his mistress.

  “You’re a traitor,” she said with a low laugh.

  Miley, reassured that there was no actual danger, turned his attention to sniffing the ground and finding a place to pee.

  “So, are you ready to head out to the field?” Curtis asked.

  “Absolutely. Let me get my bag.” Barrie went around her truck and opened the back to get her supplies. Then she met him at the ranch truck they’d take out into the field.

  “Is...he coming?” Curtis asked dubiously.

  Betty opened the side door at that moment, and when she spotted Miley, her face crinkled into a smile.

  “Oh, you handsome young man!” she exclaimed. “Come over here, Miley. Betty has some treats for her boy!”

  Curtis shot his aunt a look of surprise and Barrie chuckled. “They’re already acquainted.”

  “Looks like,” Curtis replied with a shake
of his head.

  Betty disappeared into the house, Miley joyfully bounding behind her. The screen door slammed shut, and Curtis faced her with one side of his mouth turned up in a smile.

  “Lead the way,” she said, jutting her chin toward the rusty red Chevy. She wouldn’t be softened by him. At this point, she was immune to his charms. Besides, Curtis Porter was selling her out. He might not owe her a blasted thing anymore, especially when it came to that particular piece of property, but he still had the uncanny ability to turn her entire life upside down just by waltzing into town. And she hated that. His fingerprints were still on her life, and she couldn’t ever quite scrub them off.

  So Curtis was back, and he was screwing her over, but in the meantime, he was a paying customer and Barrie couldn’t afford to be choosy.

  Chapter Three

  Curtis opened the passenger side door and held out his hand. Barrie stepped smoothly past him and awkwardly hoisted herself up into the seat without his aid. He shook his head. Just like old times.

  “It’s a hand up,” he said with a wry smile, “nothing more.”

  And he meant that. He wasn’t foolish enough to try something with her again. He already knew how that ended, and he was no longer a twenty-year-old pup looking to belong somewhere. The last fifteen years had solidified him, too. He’d learned about himself—his strengths and weaknesses, as well as what he wanted out of life: a job he could rely on, a place where he could make a difference and earn some respect. Just once, he wanted to be called Mister.

  “I’m fine.” Barrie met his gaze with a cool smile of her own, and he adjusted his hat, then handed her the leather veterinary bag. She’d never really needed him for anything, and that had chafed.

  Curtis slammed the door shut and headed around to the driver’s side. The south field was a fifteen-minute drive. Earlier he’d brought the cow some hay and a bucket of water and tossed a saddle blanket over its back to keep it warm until he could bring Barrie out there. He started the truck and cranked up the heat.

  “That’s some dog you’ve got there,” he said as he turned onto the gravel road that led past the barn and down toward the pasture.

  “Miley’s my baby,” she said, and he noticed her rub a hand over her belly out of the corner of his eye. He was still getting used to this—the pregnant Barrie. She looked softer this way, more vulnerable, but looks were obviously deceiving, at least as far as her feelings for him were concerned.

  “Until you have this one, at least,” he said, nodding toward her belly.

  “Miley will still be my baby,” she replied, then sighed. “But yes, it’ll be different. I honestly didn’t think I’d end up having kids, so I may have set Miley up with some grand expectations.”

  “You always wanted kids, though,” he countered.

  “I know, but sometimes life works out different than you planned,” she replied. “Exhibit number one, right here.” She patted her belly.

  According to Aunt Betty, he’d been the reason she stayed single and childless, and he didn’t like that theory. So their marriage hadn’t lasted. The rest of her life’s choices couldn’t be blamed on him any more than her successes could be attributed to him. He stayed silent for a few beats.

  “What?” she said.

  “Betty kind of—” How much of this should he even tell her? “She said I’d done a real number on you.”

  “You did,” she retorted. “But like I said, I’m fine.”

  “So you don’t blame me for...anything?”

  “Oh, I hold a grudge, Curtis.” She shot him a rueful smile. “But you’ll just have to live with that. Divorces come with grudges built in.”

  Curtis nodded. “Alright. I guess I can accept that.”

  Besides, from where he was sitting, her life hadn’t turned out so bad. And as for the kids—she was having a baby, wasn’t she?

  “So, you’re done with bull riding, then?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” She’d been right about the longevity of it. “It’s tough on a body. I can’t keep it up. Besides, it’s time to do something where I can grow old.”

  “Like a stud farm,” she said.

  “Yep. As half owner, I’ll be managing the place, not doing the physical labor.”

  She nodded. “It’s smart. I’ll give you that.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Will you miss it—the bull riding, I mean?”

  He rubbed his hand down his thigh toward his knee, which had started to ache with the cold. There was something about those eight seconds in the ring that grew him in ways Barrie had never understood. It was man against beast, skill against fury. He was proving himself in there—time after time—learning from mistakes and fine-tuning his game. He never felt more alive than when he was on the back of an enraged bull.

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “I will miss it. I do already. My heart hasn’t caught up with my age yet, I guess.”

  “It never did.” Her tone was dry, and she cast him one unreadable look.

  He chuckled. “Is that the grudge?”

  “Yep.” And there wasn’t even a glimmer of humor in her eye.

  But that wasn’t entirely fair, either. They’d been opposites, which was part of the fuel of their passion. She was almost regal, and he was the scruffy cowboy. She came from a good family, and he came from a chronically overworked single mom who’d consistently chosen boyfriends over him. Barrie had been the unblemished one, the one life hadn’t knocked around yet, and he’d already been through more than she could fully comprehend by the time he’d landed in Hope at the ripe old age of sixteen. If anyone should have been the obsessive planner at that point, most people would have assumed it was Curtis—just needing a bit of stability—but it had been Barrie who wanted everything nailed down and safe. And she had her untainted life here in Hope as her proof that her way was better than his. What did a scuffed-up cowboy like him know about a calm and secure life?

  Curtis had known exactly how lucky he was to have her in his life, and his heart had been in their marriage. The problem, as he saw it, was that she hadn’t trusted him enough to risk a single thing after those vows. He’d wanted to make something of himself, and she’d dug in her heels and refused to budge. Her safe and secure life was here in Hope, and he was welcome to stay there with her, but she hadn’t trusted him beyond those town limits. So he had a grudge or two of his own.

  “How is your dad?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “As well as can be expected since Mom passed away. He’s looking at retirement in the next couple of years.”

  “He isn’t retired yet?” Curtis asked. “He’s got to be, what, seventy?”

  “Sixty-nine,” she replied. “And who can afford to retire these days?”

  Sixty-nine and still working as a cattle mover—that would take a toll on a body, too, but Steve Jones didn’t have the luxury of a career change.

  “I’m sorry about your mom,” he added. “Betty told me about her passing away when it happened, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t clarify if he’d made the right call in staying clear, so he’d just assume he’d been right. He was the ex-husband, after all. Not exactly a comfort.

  “That must have been a shock,” he said.

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “You don’t see that coming. This will be our first Christmas without her.”

  “I’m sorry, Barrie.”

  “Me, too.” She was silent for a moment. “I guess you’ll have Christmas with Betty, then.”

  “I need to have the sale finalized by Christmas Eve,” he said. “Betty says she could do without me by then, so, yeah. Christmas with Betty, and then I’m leaving.”

  “So I’ll be screwed over by Christmas.” Her tone was low and quiet, but he heard the barb in her words
.

  “Barrie, this isn’t personal!” He shook his head. “You, of all people, should appreciate my situation. Your dad is in the same boat—working a physical job that takes a toll on a body—”

  “Leave my father out of this.”

  Curtis had crossed a line; her dad’s plans were none of his business, and he knew that. It was hard to come back to Hope and pretend that the people he’d known so well were strangers again just because he and Barrie had broken up. Mr. and Mrs. Jones had been a huge part of his life back then, but obviously, her father would feel different about him postdivorce.

  “Like I said before, you were right,” he said. “Bull riding was hard on my body, and this isn’t a matter of choice anymore. I simply can’t keep going. My joints are shot, I’ve broken more bones than I can count, and I couldn’t get on another bull if I wanted to. You told me all those years ago that this would happen, and I said I was tough enough to handle it. And I was—until now. So... I don’t have a lot of choice here, Barrie. I have to establish a new career and get some money in the bank so I can retire at a reasonable time.”

  She sighed and adjusted the bag on her lap. “I always thought saying I told you so would feel better than this.”

  Curtis smiled ruefully. Yeah, well, he’d always thought hearing it would sting more. But fifteen years had a way of evening the scales, it seemed. She used to be the one with all the cards, and now he was getting his turn at being the one with the leverage. Still, tilling her under hadn’t been the plan...

  “You worked with Palmer before,” Curtis said. “Would it be so terrible if you ended up working together again? You’ve got some loyal clients—”

  “I worked too hard to get my own practice to just cave in like that,” she interrupted. “And no offense, Curtis, but I don’t need you to solve this for me.”

  “Just trying to help,” he said. Which really felt like the least he could do considering that he was selling the building to her direct rival.

  “Well, don’t. I’ll figure it out.”