A Cowboy's Duty

by Marin Thomas

  Aimee had been a pleaser—a woman who’d gone to great lengths to make a man feel appreciated and valued. Men had preened in her presence because she’d made them feel worthy—even when they’d been unemployed or drunk. In the end, what had drawn men to Aimee had also sent them fleeing. She’d inflated a man’s self-esteem to the point where he’d believed he’d risen above her and deserved a better woman. Off he’d run, leaving her high, dry and pregnant.

  Dixie knew some guys wouldn’t object to raising another man’s child, but she refused to make a fool out of herself to attract one. Her brothers were prime examples of males expecting women to flatter them at every turn. Dixie blamed her siblings’ cocky attitudes on their mother, who’d insisted at every turn that her sons were the handsomest young men in all of Arizona. However, when it came to Dixie, her mother had said, “Don’t worry, child, you’ll grow out of your tomboy looks.”

  For the most part her mother had been right—the sharp angles of Dixie’s face had softened over time but she wasn’t and never would be the beauty her mother had been. Combine her average looks with having a child out of wedlock and her prospects of marrying Prince Charming were slim to none.

  At the end of the drive, Dixie turned left onto the rural road. She traveled less than a mile when the steering wheel locked up on her. “Damn.” She wrestled the wheel, managing to guide the car onto the shoulder where she shut off the engine and set the emergency brake. She didn’t know a lot about engines but guessed the truck was leaking power-steering fluid.

  The weather channel had forecasted 101 for the day’s high. She didn’t dare risk the last of her inventory melting into a puddle of goo. She placed the basket of soaps in the shade on the floor then got out and wiggled beneath the truck to check for leaks.

  Amber-colored fluid formed a puddle on the ground beneath the engine. Wonderful. Frickin’ wonderful.

  Instead of using the three hundred dollars waiting for her at Susie’s shop to help pay for her website, she’d have to use the money for truck repairs.

  * * *

  THE TRUCK PARKED ON THE shoulder of the road near the turnoff to the Cash pecan farm looked suspiciously like the red Ford Dixie drove. Worried it might be hers, Gavin made a U-turn and parked behind the vehicle. He walked up to the passenger side and poked his head through the open window. A basket of Dixie’s soaps rested on the floor.

  Where was she? He shielded his eyes from the sun and looked down the road. Had she found shade beneath a scraggly bush or had she hiked back to the farm? She wasn’t crazy enough to walk in hundred-degree heat while pregnant, was she?

  Don’t answer that.

  “Dixie!”

  Maybe a passing motorist had offered her a lift. Apprehension exploded into a full-blown anxiety attack as his mind invented all kinds of scenarios—none comforting. What if she passed out from heat exhaustion and lay in a ditch? Or worse, what if the person who’d given her a lift had abducted her and taken her across the border?

  The fear gathered steam inside Gavin and triggered a flashback of Nate’s death. Gavin’s heart pounded so hard he thought the organ would burst through his chest wall. Breaking out in a sweat, he struggled to take deep breaths but only managed to wheeze. In an attempt to block out the flying body parts, Gavin closed his eyes, but the action only intensified the vision and he stopped breathing all together when an image of Dixie bound and gagged in the trunk of a strange car flashed through his mind. He opened his mouth but terror smothered his vocal chords and her name came out in a gasp. Cursing, he summoned his inner strength and shouted, “Dixie!”

  “I’m right here.”

  Gavin spun, then stumbled in shock. He slammed his palm against his chest, jump-starting his stalled heart.

  Breathe. She’s okay.

  “What’s the matter?” Dixie took a step toward Gavin but froze when he backed up.

  The relief Gavin felt that nothing evil had befallen Dixie was so acute his chest physically ached. He opened his mouth to suck in air but his lungs drew in a gasp.

  “You’re scaring me, Gavin.”

  Shit. He was scaring himself. “I’m fine.” He rubbed his brow, swallowing a curse when he noticed his trembling hand.

  The only explanation he could come up with for his over-the-top reaction was that he cared about Dixie more than he’d believed.

  She’s pregnant with your baby—it’s natural to be concerned about her. Worry was fine but anything more was out of the question—for her sake and his.

  Feeling as if his insides had been sliced open with a hunting knife, Gavin pulled himself together and studied Dixie’s flushed face and perspiring brow. Sweat stains marked her T-shirt and the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail stuck to her damp face and neck. “What happened to the truck?”

  “It’s leaking power-steering fluid. I was under the truck checking the engine when you drove up.”

  “You have no business crawling on the ground in your condition. What if another vehicle had rear-ended the truck? You could have been killed.” He spread his arms wide. “And why are you out in this heat? You should be at home resting in front of a fan.”

  Dixie wiped her brow, the gesture propelling Gavin in action. Taking her arm he escorted her to his truck. After starting the engine, he directed the air-conditioning vents toward her face then handed her a water bottle from the cooler in the backseat. “Drink.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dixie guzzled the water. “Would you please fetch the basket from the truck? I don’t want the soaps to melt.”

  Gavin did Dixie’s bidding, setting the basket on the backseat.

  “I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” she said after Gavin got into the truck.

  “Pick away.” Gavin didn’t think—he just did it—and brushed a strand of sweaty hair off her cheek. He swore he heard her sigh but it must have been his imagination, because her eyes flashed with anger.

  “What point did you hope to make by buying every last one of my soaps from Susie’s Souvenirs?”

  “She told you?”

  “Susie said a cowboy purchased them for corporate goody bags.” Dixie quirked an eyebrow. “Unless I’m plum dumb, rodeos don’t qualify as corporate events and cowboys don’t care to shower with lavender-oatmeal soap.”

  “You wouldn’t take my money, so you left me no choice.”

  She crossed her arms and tapped the toe of her shoe on the ground.

  “We’d better figure this out right now, Dixie, because I’m not going to play the money game with you. You’re carrying my child and I have an obligation to support—”

  “I’m not an obligation!”

  Bad choice of words. Gavin reined in his temper. In a neutral voice he asked, “Where were you headed before your truck broke down?”

  “Yuma. The Scarecrow Festival kicks off tomorrow and I was taking Susie the rest of my supply.” She leaned over the seat and grabbed the shopping bag filled with the soaps Gavin had purchased from Susie’s store. “Instead, I’ll return these.”

  After checking the mirrors he pulled onto the road. When they reached Stagecoach, he asked, “Would you like to stop for a bite to eat before driving the rest of the way into Yuma?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Gavin turned on a country music station and focused on the lyrics of the song in an effort to cleanse his memory of the terror he’d experienced a short while ago. When he felt close to normal he glanced across the seat, expecting to find Dixie snoozing. Instead, she gazed out the window in a trancelike state.

  “I went to my first doctor’s appointment a few days ago.” She kept her eyes averted. “They did blood tests and everything checked out fine.”

  His fear that Dixie might have changed her mind about having the baby died a quick death. “You’re eight weeks now?”

  “About.”


  “Did the doctors give you a due date?”

  “March 24, but she said first babies are usually late.”

  March twenty-fourth. Gavin could barely think ahead to his next rodeo never mind the birth of his child. In the military he’d kept his thoughts in the present and had never jinxed himself by contemplating the future. Too many guys made plans then ended up wounded or dead.

  “Gavin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you really want to help support the baby, then you can loan me a thousand dollars.”

  The amount didn’t faze Gavin—he had a decent-size savings account. “Your insurance didn’t cover the cost of the doctor’s visit?”

  “I don’t need the money for bills. I need cash to pay the marketing company that’s designing my website.”

  “They’re charging you a thousand dollars?”

  “Five thousand. I saved two grand on my own, then Shannon Douglas offered to pay me a thousand dollars per rodeo to compete in bull riding events this past summer. I would have had five grand by now but when I discovered I was pregnant I withdrew from the Piney Gorge Rodeo in August.”

  Dixie had taken a heck of a chance for a measly two thousand dollars. Her recklessness worried Gavin. What kind of a mother would she be if she had no qualms about risking life and limb for a few bucks?

  “I’d pay you back a little at a time,” she said.

  “If I become an investor in your company does that mean I have a vote in your businesses practices?”

  She stiffened. “Absolutely not. I make all the decisions. Your money would be a loan not an investment.”

  “Is now the right time to be starting a new business?”

  “Why not? There’s no stopping the baby from coming.”

  “Exactly. The baby should be your main focus, not selling soap.”

  “You expect me to park my butt in a chair and do nothing but read magazines and drink lemonade all day?”

  Yes. “No, but slaving over hot soap molds and working with dangerous chemicals isn’t good for the baby.” Or you.

  She snorted. “Now I understand why you get along with my brothers—you’re a chauvinist.”

  “Am not. I think it’s great that you have aspirations to start your own company.”

  “But?”

  “It would be best if you waited until a few years after the baby’s born.”

  “A few years?”

  “Three or four. Once the kid’s in school—”

  “How interesting that I have to sacrifice my plans to care for the child, while you do as you please.”

  Gavin opened his mouth to object but couldn’t think of a damn thing to say in his defense.

  “Whether you approve or not, I intend to work while I’m pregnant and continue working after the baby’s here.”

  Dixie wasn’t backing down and Gavin reluctantly admired her spunk. “Okay. I’ll give you the thousand dollars.”

  “You’ll loan me the money. I’m paying you back—with interest.”

  Investing in a soap company wasn’t the way Gavin pictured supporting his child, but if it got the job done, who was he to complain?

  Chapter Five

  “Your truck’s gone,” Gavin said, waking Dixie from her nap in the front seat. After they’d eaten at a diner outside of Yuma, she’d slept the rest of the way to Stagecoach.

  “One of my brothers probably towed the truck to the farm—” Dixie yawned “—when they got home from the rodeo.”

  Hair mussed and eyes swollen from sleep, she looked like a pixie. An image of a little girl with brown pigtails popped into Gavin’s mind and he wondered if Dixie was carrying his daughter—not that he had a preference regarding the child’s sex.

  “Is the farm in production anymore?”

  “Yes, but after my grandparents died and my brothers began rodeoing, we leased the acreage to a company, which operates other farms in the area.”

  “How long is your contract with the company?” Gavin asked.

  “Four years.”

  “What will you do with the property if you can’t lease the land anymore?”

  “This is home and I speak for my brothers when I say that we’d never sell the land or the house.”

  “Small house for seven people.”

  “That’s for sure. Sharing a bathroom with six smelly men is not fun.”

  Gavin pulled up to the farmhouse and surveyed the trucks parked helter-skelter in the yard. “I don’t see your pickup.”

  “Maybe they took it to Troy Winter’s place. He fixes cars for real cheap.” Before Dixie had a chance to unsnap her seat belt, the porch door opened and all six Cash brothers walked outside—none of them smiling.

  Gavin got out of the truck, rounded the hood and held open the passenger-side door for Dixie.

  “We thought you’d been abducted when we found your Ford stranded on the side of the road,” Johnny’s said.

  “Yeah, sis,” Willie spoke up. “How come you didn’t call? We left messages on your cell phone.”

  “Sorry.” Dixie didn’t sound a bit apologetic. “Gavin happened to drive by and rescued me.”

  “You’re a regular knight in shining armor, aren’t you, Tucker?” Merle said.

  “Where have you been?” Johnny asked when Dixie stopped in front of the porch.

  “Delivering inventory to Susie’s.”

  Johnny opened his mouth but Dixie cut him off. “Susie sold out of my soaps and with the festival tomorrow I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to make more money.” She climbed the steps, pausing when the group blocked her path. “Move. I have to use the bathroom.” Her brothers parted like the Red Sea.

  As soon as Dixie disappeared inside the brothers switched their focus to Gavin. “We need to talk, Tucker.” Johnny trotted down the steps and headed toward the barn. Feeling as if he was being led behind the woodshed for a whipping, Gavin trailed the eldest Cash sibling.

  “What are your intentions toward my sister?” Johnny stopped inside the barn. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the workbench.

  “My intention is to do the right thing, but your sister isn’t cooperating.”

  “You proposed to Dixie?”

  “No!”

  Johnny’s eyes rounded.

  Gavin shoved a hand through his short-cropped hair. “We’re not at a point in our relationship where we’re ready to discuss marriage.”

  “You two passed that point back in July.”

  “Has Dixie said anything about wanting us to marry?”

  “Are you kidding? She still won’t say who the baby’s

  father is.” Johnny narrowed his eyes. “But we both know who put a bun in my sister’s oven.”

  Jeez. He didn’t need to make what Gavin and Dixie shared sound dirty.

  “My brothers and I are the only family Dixie has and our job is to look out for her.” Johnny paced between the bench and the potbelly stove. The man was wound up tighter than a yo-yo.

  “I expect you to marry my sister and make a decent woman out of her.”

  Gavin was used to giving orders not taking them. “This isn’t the eighteen-hundreds, where women are ostracized for becoming pregnant out of wedlock.”

  “Our family has been talked about and ridiculed all of our lives because of our mother’s wild ways. I won’t allow Dixie to suffer any more than she already has.”

  Gavin hated that people might mistreat Dixie because she had a baby out of wedlock, but he feared the one thing guaranteed to protect her against public condemnation—marrying him—would cause her as much if not more pain and misery.

  “Dixie and I need time to feel our way through the situation.”

  “Time is running out, Tucker. In ano
ther month she’ll sport a baby bump.”

  The words baby bump echoed through Gavin’s mind and his skin broke out in a cold sweat. “Dixie wants to focus on selling her soaps.”

  “That’s another reason she needs to marry.” Johnny shook his head. “She’s got all these crazy business ideas running through her head. She needs a man to keep her in line.”

  Gavin smothered a smile behind a cough. Johnny didn’t know his baby sister well if he believed Dixie would toe the line for Gavin, or any man for that matter.

  “She thinks marketing her soaps on the internet will make her rich.”

  Gavin doubted the online business would earn enough money to improve Dixie’s standard of living. That she’d protested vehemently when he’d suggested she set aside her soap-making while she raised the baby hinted that there was more behind her desire to sell suds than money. Gavin’s gaze zeroed in on the phone number he’d scribbled on the workbench. Dixie had drawn a red heart around the digits. A surge of protectiveness filled him.

  “It takes money to run a business,” Johnny said. “Where’s Dixie going to find the extra cash when she’s raising a kid by herself?”

  “I intend to help support the baby.”

  “But you won’t be available to babysit so Dixie can make the soaps or fill online orders, will you?” Gavin didn’t have a chance to defend himself before Johnny added, “You’re not good enough to make a living at rodeo.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “How do you intend to support yourself as well as a kid if you don’t have a nine-to-five job?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” Gavin said.

  “First of all, I don’t have a kid on the way, and second, I don’t need a job—even though I work as a seasonal cowboy for the Triple D Ranch. The income from leasing the pecan farm supports me and my siblings.”

  “What happens when all of you marry? Will pecans still pay the bills and take care of your wives and children?”

  Johnny glared.

  “I’m not ready to quit rodeoing.” Rodeo was the only thing helping Gavin ease back into civilian life. The thought of giving up the sport cold turkey was enough to make him physically ill.