The Cowboy's Sweetheart

by Brenda Minton

  “This doesn’t have to be the end of the world.” Dr. Mark patted her arm. “It’s a different path than you probably had planned for yourself. It’s going to take some adjusting, to make this work out. But I think you can do it.”

  Andie looked up, meeting eyes that were kind, with crinkled lines of age and experience at the corners.

  “Yeah, I know I can make it.”

  She wanted to ask him what he thought about God. She had developed a new relationship with God, and then she’d realized she was pregnant. Some people might think the baby pushed her back into church. But it had been her own feelings, her own desire to have that connection that had taken her to that service.

  The baby hadn’t pushed her there.

  “Andie, if you need someone to talk to…”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine, really. It’s just a lot to adjust to.”

  She put on a big smile, to prove to him, and maybe to herself, that she was okay.

  “Okay then, let’s go for that ultrasound. Down the hall, second door on the left. I’ll be right there. And we’ll take a picture for dad. We don’t want him to miss out on everything.”

  Right. She nodded and hopped down from the table.

  “What about activity. I mean, horseback riding? Work?”

  “Within reason you can continue activities that you’ve been doing on a regular basis. Of course you don’t want to do anything strenuous, or dangerous.”

  “Got it.” She walked out, down the hall to the room he’d directed her to. Alone.

  She was going to see her baby, or what would soon be her baby, and she wished someone was there with her. She wished Etta had come with her. She wished Ryder had insisted. If he had pushed… She shook off that thought, because she shouldn’t make him push.

  Instead of having someone with her, she walked into a darkened room alone and a nurse helped her onto the bed.

  A few minutes later she raised her head and watched the screen, saw the beating heart of her baby and she cried. Dr. Mark handed her a tissue.

  “A healthy heart.” He removed the ultrasound and the nurse wiped her belly. “Here’s your baby’s first picture.”

  Andie took the black-and-white photo, her fingers trembling as she held it up and looked at something that really looked like nothing. Except for that beating heart. Proof that her baby was alive. She couldn’t wait to show Etta, and to call Alyson. She didn’t want to think about Ryder. Not yet.

  “Now remember what I said—make an appointment for one month from today with my colleague near Grove, Dr. Ashford. That’ll be a lot easier than driving to Tulsa.” Dr. Mark opened the door for her. “And try not to worry. Things have a way of working out for the best.”

  She nodded and tried not to attach his words of wisdom to the verse that all things work together for good. For those who trust. She had to trust. She had to believe that God would take what she had done on a night when she hadn’t been thinking about Him, or trusting Him, and He would work it out for her good.

  But one question kept running through her mind. Why should He?

  When she walked into the waiting room, Ryder was there. He wasn’t relaxed. He wasn’t reading a book. He was pacing. She smiled and watched, because he hadn’t seen her yet.

  He had dressed up for the occasion, wearing jeans that weren’t so faded and boots that weren’t scuffed. He’d gotten a haircut. For a moment, that moment, he looked like someone’s dad. He turned, barely smiling when he saw her. She held up the picture.

  Because it wasn’t her baby, it was theirs.

  Ryder couldn’t remember a time in his life that he’d been this nervous. And he had a pretty good feeling it was only going to get worse. For over an hour he’d been watching other women, other couples. A few couples had new babies with them.

  That was going to be his life. Andie was going to get a round belly. She would need help getting up from a chair, like a couple of the women who were obviously farther along. Their husbands had helped them up, and held their hands as they walked back to the examining rooms.

  He’d never seen himself as one of those men. Man, he’d never even seen himself standing next to a woman, not in his craziest dreams.

  He didn’t even know how to hold a baby.

  Andie walked toward him, her cheeks flushed and that picture in her hand. He’d never seen her so unsure. At least he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

  “This is our baby.” She handed him the picture. In a few months she wouldn’t be wearing jeans. He tried to picture her in maternity clothes, pastel colors and with her feet swollen.

  She’d hit him if she knew what direction his thoughts were taking. If she knew that he’d been thinking about being there when the baby was born and what they’d name it.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” He held the picture up and tried to decipher the dot that she insisted was their kid. “Are you sure that’s a baby? Looks like a tadpole to me.”

  She laughed. “That’s a baby. And we won’t know what it is for a few months.”

  “Wow.” He shook his head and looked at the picture again. “We’re going to be parents.”

  “Yeah, we are.”

  It became real at that moment, with her next to him in a doctor’s office. Andie was going to have his baby.

  He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, because how could he not. It felt like what a guy had to do when he found out he was going to be a dad. He hadn’t expected it, that jolt of excitement, that paternal surge of protectiveness.

  Five minutes ago he’d been full of regrets, full of fear, full of doubt. He still was, but a picture of a heart beating, that had to change something.

  “Stop.” Andie pulled loose. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I forgive you, but you have to feed me.”

  He got it. And he had to stop acting like she was someone other than Andie. He wondered how they did that, how they acted like they had acted for the past twenty-five years.

  “When do we come back?” He asked as they walked out the doors of the clinic, into warm autumn sunshine.

  “We don’t. I visit Dr. Ashford in a month. She’s at the Lakeside Women’s Clinic.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “Ryder, please stop. You don’t have to do this.”

  He stopped walking. People moved past them and around them. Andie kept moving so he hurried to catch up with her, to walk across the parking lot at her side.

  “I don’t know why you’re pushing me away.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket and pushed the button. “Andie, we have to face this. It isn’t going away.”

  “I know it isn’t going away. But I don’t want to feel like you’re tied to me, knowing you’d rather be anywhere but here. This isn’t who you are. This isn’t who we are.”

  “Who are we then?”

  “You’re you. You’re single and you love your life. And I ride barrel horses and live with my granny. That’s our lives. This, having a baby, being parents together, this isn’t us.”

  He didn’t laugh at her because he’d been reading those magazines in the waiting room and he now knew all about hormones, estrogen, cravings and labor. A few months ago those had been words he wouldn’t have even thought to himself. He thought he might have information overload, received after more than an hour of reading prenatal articles.

  Stretch marks, whether to medicate during labor or not, natural delivery verses C-section. He wanted the words to go away.

  Anyway, he knew better than to laugh at a pregnant woman with surging hormones. She’d either cry hysterically or hurt him. And he wasn’t much into either of those options.

  He wasn’t about to tell her that he’d much rather be at a rodeo than facing her right then. At least he knew what to expect at a rodeo, on the back of a horse, or on the back of a bull. For the time being he had to think that those days were behind him.

  That meant he had to come up with something that wou
ld placate her until they could deal with this.

  Cravings. The word was now his friend.

  “What do you want to eat?”

  Her blue eyes melted a little and she sniffled. He didn’t have a handkerchief.

  “Seafood.”

  “You got it.”

  That was a lot easier than dealing with the big changes happening in his life, and her body. He shuddered again as he opened the door for her to get into the truck.

  As they drove through Tulsa, he glanced at the woman sitting next to him. The mother of his child. He’d never expected her to be that.

  “Andie, we’re going to have to talk about this.”

  “This?”

  He sighed. “The baby. Our baby. We have to talk about my part in this.”

  Her hand went to her belly and she stared out the window. He didn’t know if she even realized that she did that, that she touched her belly. He glanced sideways, catching her reflection in the glass. Blue eyes, staring out at the passing buildings and her bottom lip held between her teeth.

  “Yeah, I know that we need to talk.” She said it without looking at him. “But not yet. Let this settle, okay? Let me get it together and then we’ll talk.”

  “Tomorrow, then, Andie. We’ll talk tomorrow.” About the future. About them. And about the ring he was still carrying in the pocket of his jeans.

  Not that he was planning on proposing again anytime soon. One rejection a year was probably more than enough.

  Andie breathed a sigh of relief as she sat down to lunch. It was officially the “tomorrow” that Ryder had talked about yesterday, and he hadn’t shown up yet. She’d managed to get a lot of work done at the barn, found her favorite cow just after she’d calved. The new calf had been standing behind her, still a little damp and a little wobbly.

  She’d managed to forget, for a few hours, how drastically her life would change next spring.

  What Ryder needed to do was go back on the road, rope a few steer, or help Wyatt with the girls. He had to get over thinking she’d let him marry her just because. When she thought about that, about marrying Ryder, her heart didn’t know how to react.

  She reached for a magazine off the pile sitting on the edge of the table expecting Quarter Horse Monthly, and she got lace and froth instead. One of Alyson’s bridal magazines. Andie picked it up and flipped through the pages. She shuddered and closed the magazine.

  “What’s up with you?” Etta walked into the kitchen. She smiled and laughed a little. “Weddings make you nervous.”

  “White icing, white dresses, white fluff and white lace.”

  “It’s a special occasion.” Etta sat down across from her and picked up the magazine. “It’s supposed to be white and frilly. It’s supposed to be unlike any other day in a woman’s life.”

  “Right, but couldn’t it be white denim and apple pie with vanilla ice cream?”

  “I guess it could, if that’s what the bride wanted. Are you thinking of getting married?”

  “Of course not. Who would I marry? And there definitely isn’t any white in my future.”

  Andie flipped the magazine open and a strange feeling, something like longing—if she’d been giving it a name—ached inside her heart. In high school her friends had planned their weddings. They’d planned the dresses, the flowers, the reception, even the groom and where they’d go on their honeymoon.

  Not Andie. She’d saved up farm money to buy the barrel horse of her dreams and the perfect saddle. She’d planned a National Championship win, and she had the buckle to show how well she’d planned.

  Etta patted her hand. “You’ll have a white wedding, Andie. My goodness, girl, you know that it isn’t about what you’ve done. It’s about what God’s doing in your heart. This is about the changes that have taken place in your life.”

  “I know.” What else could she say? It wasn’t about white. But then again, it was. It was also about dreams she’d never dreamed. “I need to get back to work. What’s for dinner tonight? I wouldn’t mind taking you out for supper at the Mad Cow.”

  “I’d love it. I have an order to ship off this afternoon.” Tie-dye specialties, Etta’s custom clothing line. She and Andie worked together when Andie wasn’t on the road.

  “Do you need help getting the order together?”

  “No, you go ahead with what you need to get done.”

  Andie took her plate to the sink and walked out the back door. The weather had turned cool and the leaves were rustling in a light breeze. She walked down the path to the barn, whistling for her horses. They were a short distance away and her whistle brought their heads up. Their ears twitched and then they went back to grazing.

  Dusty left the herd and started toward the barn. She would brush him first and work him a little. No need to let him get a grass belly. No reason for her to sit and get lazy, either. She’d never been good at sitting still.

  For as long as she could remember she’d ridden horses. When she turned six, her dad bought Bell, a spotted pony. That summer she had started to compete in youth rodeos around Oklahoma and Texas. And she’d been competing ever since. For over twenty years.

  But this next year would bring changes. She’d seen the women on the circuit with children. But they usually had husbands, too. And they didn’t drag little babies from state to state.

  Life’s about changing—those words were in a song Etta liked.

  She snapped a lead rope on Dusty’s halter and led him into the barn where she tied him to a hook on the wall. He rubbed his head on the rough wood of the barn and tried to chew on the rail of the nearest stall while she brushed him and then settled the saddle on his back. She reached under his belly and grabbed the girth strap to pull it tight.

  A few minutes later she was standing in the center of the arena with her horse on a long, lunge line. This was what she loved. She loved an autumn day and a horse that was so attentive it took barely a flick of her wrist or a slight whistle to command him.

  Ryder pulled up the drive as she was settling into the saddle. Not that long ago she would have rode to the fence, glad to see him. But today wasn’t three months ago. She blinked away a few tears and she didn’t glance in his direction, but she knew he was parking, that he was getting out of his truck.

  She rode Dusty around the arena, keeping close to the fence. He was restless and wanted his head, kept pulling, wanting her to let him go. She held him in, easing him from an easy canter to a walk and then she rode him into the center of the arena, taking him in tight circles. He obeyed but she knew what he really wanted were barrels to run.

  As she headed back to the fence she made brief eye contact with Ryder. He was walking toward the arena looking casual, relaxed, but even from a distance she saw his jaw clench.

  “What are you doing?” He opened the gate and stepped inside the arena.

  “I’m working my horse.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” She reined Dusty in, and he didn’t want to be reined in. He pranced, fighting the bit, wanting to run.

  When he realized it was time to work, he was always ready to go. She held him back though, as her attention settled on Ryder. The new Ryder.

  He still looked like the old Ryder. Her gaze traveled down from his white cowboy hat to his face shadowed and needing a shave, and then to the T-shirt and faded jeans. He’d tanned to a deep brown over the summer and in the last few years his body had changed from that of a tall skinny teen to a man who worked cattle for a living.

  He had changed. This Ryder didn’t seem to get her. Or maybe he wanted to change her? He shook his head and walked toward her and the horse.

  “I don’t think you should do this.”

  “Why not?” She held the reins tight and patted Dusty’s neck, whispering softly to calm the animal.

  “You’re pregnant.”

  “I think I know that.” She glared at him, hoping to pin him down, back him off, or make him turn tail and run. He crossed his arms in front of his chest,
like he was the law and she was the errant juvenile. He’d never been one to back down from a fight.

  Had she really admired that about him?

  “Seriously, Andie, you can’t do this. It’s dangerous.”

  “No, it isn’t. The doctor said I could ride. He said I could do what I’ve been doing, within reason. I’ve got to exercise my horse. I can’t let him get out of shape. And I’m not going to get hurt.”

  “Fine, but I’m going to stay here and watch.”

  “Like I need you to stay and watch. You have better things to do with your time than be my nanny.”

  “Yeah, I have better things to do, but if you insist on doing this, then I’m staying here.”

  She pushed her hat back and tried again to stare him down. “This doesn’t make you my keeper. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. We’re not going steady.”

  “You’re right, because we’re not sixteen. This is a whole lot more than going steady. This is having a baby.”

  “Like I need you to tell me.” She closed her eyes, because they did sound like kids. She didn’t want that.

  Ryder stepped closer. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  She really didn’t like change.

  “I don’t want to fight, either. We’ve never fought before.”

  He looked away, but his hand was still on Dusty’s neck. He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have to stop this.” She backed her horse, away from Ryder because she had to take back control, of herself and her horse. “You have to stop treating me this way, like I’m going to break.”

  “I’m trying.” His features softened a little and he smiled, a shy smile that was almost as out of place as this new, protective behavior of his.

  It was sweet, that smile and her insides warmed a little. She nudged Dusty with her boots and he stepped forward, putting Ryder next to her again.

  “Ryder you have to trust that I’m not going to do something dangerous. I won’t put—” she stumbled over the words “—I won’t put our baby in danger.”

  “I know you won’t. This is just new territory for me. I’ve never been anyone’s dad. I hadn’t planned on it.”