Montana Mistletoe Baby

by Patricia Johns

  Barrie circled around her stalled SUV for her black bag, and opened the back door. The dog unfolded himself and scrambled down to the ground. That was one huge dog. He stood as tall as a colt, and stayed protectively close to his mistress.

  “We’ll walk up to my truck at the house,” Curtis said. “You okay with that?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I’d better call a tow truck, though.”

  Curtis waited while she dialed the local towing company, and within a couple of minutes, she’d given the crucial information.

  “Alright,” she said as she hung up. “Let’s go.”

  So competent—not that she shouldn’t be, but even though she’d accepted his offer of a ride, he had the feeling that she didn’t really need his favors. Miley trotted next to Barrie, but when Curtis fell into step on the other side, Miley fell back for a pace, then nudged between them, the warm bulk of his shoulder shoving Curtis over. The dog was definitely making a statement here.

  “Miley doesn’t like me?” Curtis asked with a short laugh.

  Barrie looked down at Miley, then shrugged. “If he didn’t like you, you’d know it.”

  What did that mean exactly? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. The Great Dane was a friendly enough breed, but Miley was still two hundred pounds of solid muscle. They found their stride as they headed up the road toward the house, and after a couple of minutes of walking, Miley seemed to lose interest in protecting his mistress and bounded ahead.

  “Traitor.” Barrie chuckled.

  “Is he a good guard dog?” Curtis asked.

  “He’s awful,” she replied. “You can buy him off for a treat.”

  Curtis shrugged his coat higher on his neck to fend off the probing cold. “He makes a good impression, though.”

  “Which is why I keep him around.” The old joking glint was back in her eyes, despite the lack of a smile on her face. She walked at a brisker pace than he expected, but then, she was used to marching through fields to find injured cattle, so this was nothing, even with her pregnancy.

  “So, what’s your history with Palmer?” Curtis asked.

  “I told you. I worked for him for a few years before I started my own practice.”

  “Betty told me you’re the better vet,” he said.

  Barrie shot him a quizzical look. “Why would she say that?”

  “She says he’s more experienced, but you have better instincts,” he replied. “She says that he’s peaked in his career, and you’re still climbing.”

  “Not that Dr. Berton would ever admit it,” she quipped.

  “So you didn’t work well together,” he said.

  “He was a micromanager. He wanted me to do everything his way, not mine. I’m a good vet—Betty’s right. I don’t know...” She sighed. “I thought he’d be glad to get rid of me when I opened my own practice, but he was furious. He said I was ungrateful.”

  “Maybe he recognized the competition,” Curtis suggested.

  Barrie shrugged. “Maybe.”

  She’d always been talented. Barrie didn’t do anything unless she could be the best at it, and when he knew her, she’d never taken anything less than seriously. Curtis was different, though. He liked to go with the flow for the most part, and his competitive streak only came out in the bull riding. For all the good that had done him.

  “So you butted heads a lot, I take it,” Curtis clarified.

  “He wouldn’t trust my way of doing things,” she replied. “I have the same education he does—more current, even. But that’s Dr. Berton for you—it’s his way or the highway.”

  “You want to know what I think?” he asked with a small smile.

  “I’m not sure I do,” she retorted.

  “I think Aunt Betty might be sweet on him.”

  Barrie’s attitude evaporated and she looked at him in shock. “What?”

  There she was—the Barrie he remembered. He felt a surge of satisfaction at having shocked her into a more natural reaction. He knew he shouldn’t be gossiping about his aunt, but it felt good to get past the icy veneer.

  “Hey, I’m not saying it’s a fact. Just a...feeling, I guess. They’re friends. So don’t pass that around.”

  “Your aunt has better taste than that,” Barrie replied, but her tone had warmed.

  “They’re both single, and the same age,” he countered. “I always thought Betty would have liked to get married. She just never seemed to find the right cowboy.”

  “So that’s why she never married?” Barrie asked. “Just bad luck?”

  “Or bad timing.” Curtis shrugged. “And there could be worse matches.”

  “He’s impossible,” Barrie countered.

  “You’re impossible, Curtis!” How many times had she muttered that over the course of their short marriage? And he felt a strange urge to stick up for Dr. Berton in spite of it all.

  “He was married for what...thirty-five years?” Curtis raised his eyebrows. “Louise handled him. And if Betty can wrangle cattle, I don’t see Palmer being too much for her.”

  “Some cowboys aren’t worth the trouble,” she retorted.

  And he was obviously one of them. But he’d won her over once... Her refusal to deal with difficult cowboys shouldn’t be sparking up his competitive streak. He pushed the thought firmly away.

  Miley came bounding back toward them in joyful abandon. While Curtis had ridden bulls in the ring, he still found this massive dog slightly unsettling. At least a man knew a bull’s intentions, and he could brace himself for it. Miley’s jowls flapped with each leap. Barrie cracked a smile for the first time that morning as Miley fell into step next to her again—standing solidly between Curtis and her mistress.

  “You’re back, are you?” she asked the dog, stroking his head, which came up to her chest.

  Miley turned to look at Curtis, and he could have sworn he saw a challenge in the dog’s eyes. Or was that his imagination?

  Curtis’s truck was parked in front of the house. As they approached, Betty poked her head out of the screen door. While Barrie went over to talk to Betty, Curtis sauntered over to his truck and started clearing out the back. Normally the back seat wasn’t put to use, but that dog was going to need all of it. He covered the leather seats with a woolen blanket, tucking it in at the headrests. It would have to do.

  Soon enough, Barrie returned with Miley at her side, and Curtis opened both doors—one for Barrie and one for Miley. The dog hesitated, watching his mistress.

  “Let’s go, Miley,” Barrie said. “Get in.”

  Miley did as he was told, and Curtis inwardly grimaced at the sound of dog toenails against leather seats as the blanket was pushed aside. He slammed the door. He held out his hand for Barrie, and she gave him her bag of veterinarian supplies and carefully hoisted herself up into the passenger seat. Then she reached for her bag.

  “You are one stubborn woman, Barrie,” he said with a short laugh.

  “One of my many strengths.”

  And looking at her life now, maybe she was right, because his way hadn’t exactly panned out. He swung her door shut and headed to the driver’s side. When he hopped into the truck and started the vehicle, he heard panting close behind his head, and he glanced back to see Miley staring him in the face.

  “Hello, Miley,” Curtis said uncertainly. “Want to sit back a bit?”

  “Miley,” Barrie said reproachfully. “Personal space!”

  The dog retreated a few inches, but the smell of dog breath was still rather close. Curtis pulled out of his parking spot and headed down the drive that led to the main road.

  “He’s a bit of a back seat driver,” Barrie said, adjusting her bag on her lap. “Thanks for doing this, Curtis. I appreciate it.”

  “What do the Grangers need?” he asked.
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br />   “I’m doing some calf immunizations,” she replied. “We’ve had this appointment scheduled for a couple of weeks now, and it takes some preparation to get the calves all in the barn, so canceling would be a real headache for them...”

  And as she talked about the different types of immunizations and the reasons behind them, Curtis noticed Miley’s gray face creeping up next to his once more. Curtis looked over, and his face connected with the dog’s jowls. He planted a hand on Miley’s nose and pushed him back.

  “Miley...” Barrie reprimanded him. “Go back! Now!”

  Miley retreated once more with a low growl that sounded more like a complaint than a threat, and Curtis started to laugh. It was ridiculous—this massive dog that wanted to be as close as possible to the humans around him.

  Curtis eased to a stop at the main road.

  “Miley!” Curtis commanded. “Come here.” The dog’s face appeared over his shoulder again, and Curtis gave him a thorough scratch behind the ears. “You’re a good boy,” he reassured the dog. “Aren’t you?”

  Miley cocked his head from side to side to get the best pet possible, and when he was through, he retreated on his own. There was the scramble of toenails against seat as he got comfortable once more. Barrie was looking at Curtis in surprise, and he ignored her.

  Curtis signaled his turn and pulled onto the main road. As he looked both ways, he caught Barrie watching him still, her expression softened, less guarded.

  “I’m a nicer guy than you think,” he said, his voice low.

  There was a beat of silence as he accelerated a little past the speed limit.

  “I know,” she said with a sigh.

  “Are you agreeing with me?” He shot her a surprised look.

  “Of course. You’re a nice guy, and you do mean well. I don’t think you’re some heartless SOB trying to till me under. I never thought that. You put up this tough front, but under it all you have a lot of heart.” She paused. “I never should have married you, though.”

  That stung—not quite the reaction he’d expected. “Okay...”

  “You know what I mean,” she said. “You aren’t the devil, Curtis. And neither am I. We just want different things—always have. We never should have run off to Rickton and eloped. That was the biggest mistake we ever made.”

  “You really regret what we had that much?” he asked. Because he didn’t. She was still his biggest adventure to date.

  She sighed. “I regret having to get over you, Curtis. That was misery.”

  Had it been that hard on her? He’d wondered over the years. It had been agony for him—starting fresh, his heart in shreds. It had taken him two years to ask another woman out, even with all the girls willing to throw themselves at him on the circuit.

  “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously, not even sure he wanted to hear this, but he probably should. He’d had an effect on her, and he should take some responsibility for it.

  “Lying in bed at night—our bed—and knowing you weren’t coming back.” There was a tremor in her voice. “Or the day I packed away that white summer dress I wore for our wedding. I know I said I wanted a dress I could wear again, but how could I? I’d married you in that dress. Or facing the onslaught of questions from everyone who wanted to know where you’d gone. And I had to tell them that you’d left. We were over.”

  “Did you tell them you kicked me out?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She laughed bitterly. “I had to save face.”

  He was silent, her words rattling around inside him. He’d hurt her more deeply than he’d suspected. He’d always imagined that he’d left her behind furious. Maybe it was easier for him to think of her as angry instead of gutted.

  “It was bad for me, too,” he admitted gruffly. But he didn’t want to enlarge on that. He’d had his own sleepless nights, and it had taken him a few weeks to finally take off his wedding ring...

  “So we’re agreed,” she said.

  “That I’m not the devil?” He shot her a wry look.

  She smiled faintly, then rolled her eyes. Back when he was nothing more than a kid, he’d loved the challenge of winning her heart, and while he wasn’t the same naive sap he used to be, there was still a small part of him that liked the challenge of changing her opinion about him.

  “Yeah, we’re agreed,” he said after a minute.

  He was a nicer guy than she thought. He stood by that. But she was right—they never should have married to begin with. That divorce had been both inevitable and the worst pain he’d ever endured.

  * * *

  THE GRANGER RANCH was about thirty minutes away from the Porter land, and by the time they arrived, Miley was antsy in the back seat. Curtis was more patient with her dog than Barrie had thought he’d be, and she had to admit that had softened her a little toward her ex-husband—very little. And she was grudgingly grateful to him for taking her to this appointment with the Grangers.

  They parked beside the Grangers’ house. The twin boys, who were about three years old now, were playing outside in the snow, and Mackenzie was standing in the window with the baby on her shoulder. She waved and disappeared from the window, and a moment later the side door opened. She still had the baby on her shoulder, but there was a blanket over the baby’s head now to protect her from the chill.

  “Hi, Barrie!” Mack called. “Where’s your truck?”

  “It broke down at the Porter ranch. Curtis kindly offered to shuttle me around this morning,” she replied. Mackenzie Granger was one of the few people who hadn’t been around during Barrie and Curtis’s short marriage, and for that, Barrie was grateful. She was tired of dodging explanations. “Should I just head down to the barn?”

  “I’ll text Chet and Andy to tell them you’re here,” Mack replied. “But yes—just head on down. Thanks, Barrie.” She turned her attention to the boys in the snow. “Jayden, no snow in the face!”

  “Mack!” Barrie leaned out the window again. “Which barn?”

  “The Granger barn.” Mackenzie grinned. “Sorry, I should have specified.”

  Barrie waved and put her window back up. Curtis eased the truck forward and raised his eyebrows.

  “Which barn is that?”

  “Just follow the road down,” Barrie said. “It’s the first one.”

  Mack had her hands full with three kids now, and Barrie felt a wave of anxiety. She’d be the mom with a new baby soon enough, but she wasn’t as ready for all of this as Mackenzie had been. Mack was in a solid, supportive marriage to a great guy. She owned half this ranch, and there was a certain amount of freedom that came with that, too.

  Barrie was still grieving for her own mom, and while she’d always wanted children, she’d envisioned that happening with her mother in her life.

  The truck bounced over a rut, and Barrie winced, bracing herself.

  “Sorry,” Curtis said. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

  “It’s okay...” But the more her pregnancy progressed, the more painful jolts like that got. Curtis slowed down and eased around a pothole.

  “So that’s Chet’s wife?” Curtis asked.

  “Yes. Mackenzie is Helen Vaughn’s granddaughter. I don’t know if Betty told you, but she passed away a few years back and left Mack the ranch. She and Chet got married and joined their ranches. It’s a profitable outfit.”

  “Strange to see old buddies with families and kids.”

  “Andy is Chet’s ranch manager,” Barrie added.

  “Chet’s brother, Andy? I thought he was in the city.”

  “No, he came back. He ended up marrying Dakota Mason—Brody’s sister.”

  Curtis shook his head. “Wow. Time marches on.”

  It did, indeed. Barrie rubbed a hand over her belly. This was the easy part, she’d been told. Pregnancy was hard, bu
t once a newborn was in the world, everything would be infinitely more complicated. She wouldn’t have the luxury of staying home with her baby like Mackenzie did, and her heart ached at the thought of handing her newborn over to someone else while she went tramping out into fields as the local vet. She had no safety net to catch her, which was a position she shared with a lot of hardworking women.

  The Granger barn was down a sloping road that bent west, within sight of the Vaughn barn. That was a vestige from the days when people wanted their neighbors within shouting distance. It made sense, because emergencies came up, and people needed each other. It was a simpler time. Before the two ranches were joined, a fence had separated the barns. But that fence had been torn down when Chet and Mack got married, and the two barns were both put to use.

  The truck rumbled to a stop next to a rusted blue pickup. Barrie eased herself down to the ground and opened the back door to let Miley out.

  “Come on, Miley,” she said. The dog hopped down, his long legs reaching the ground more easily than she had, and stretched. Curtis came around the truck just as she grabbed her black bag. A few yards off, a white goat regarded them cautiously.

  “Don’t even think about it, Miley,” Barrie warned. “You stay put.”

  The barn door opened, and Andy Granger stuck his head out. “Butter Cream, you little scamp. Get back in.”

  The goat sauntered lazily toward the door, gave one backward glance at the new arrivals and disappeared inside.

  “Curtis Porter? Is that you, man?” Andy asked, turning his attention to them.

  Curtis headed over and the two men shook hands. They’d been friends in high school.

  “Are you two—” Andy hooked a thumb in Barrie’s direction, and Barrie lifted one eyebrow. The inference was obvious. As much as she liked being talked about in front of her face, rather than behind her back, she had no patience left for the curiosity of this town.

  “Curtis is my ride today,” Barrie said with a small smile. “And I’m your vet. Shall we?”