A Baby of Her Own

by Brenda Novak

  “What’s Roy up to?” his grandfather asked.

  “Taking care of business.”

  “He’s a good cowboy. You can trust him.”

  “Yeah. I think he likes me,” Conner said, taking care to keep his tongue-in-cheek tone apparent only to himself.

  “An ounce of respect is worth a pound of love. You remember that, you’ll do well.”

  “Right. Respect.” After all, he’d done so much to command the respect of others.

  “I meant what I said before you left here. You know that, don’t you, Con?”

  “About—”

  “You get yourself together now and put your past behind you, you hear? It’s time to grow up and be a man. I need you to save that ranch, Con. I don’t want to lose it. It belongs in the family.”

  “You’re coming through loud and clear,” he said.

  “Good. You see that it happens. Now, get back to work. I’ll call you next week.”

  Conner hung up, then pressed his fingertips to his eyes. If it belongs in the family, Clive, why the hell did you send me?

  CHAPTER SIX

  DELANEY SIGHED IN EXHAUSTION as she slumped into the easy chair in her living room to sip a cup of hot cocoa. She’d made over twenty pies this week and had sold eighteen in less than five hours. Which meant she’d earned another $146 she could shove into her cookie jar against the time Rebecca left, when her expenses would nearly double. Though Dundee could pay her only so much to run the library, she made extra money selling her pies on the weekend. If she was careful, she should be able to get by. She certainly wasn’t going to move back home.

  The assertiveness evaluation she’d printed off the Internet earlier sat on the accent table next to her. After eyeing it over the rim of her cup, she finally set her hot cocoa aside and took up her pencil. She’d made progress in the assertiveness department, hadn’t she? She might not have told Aunt Millie—yet—that she wasn’t moving home, but going to Boise hadn’t been a failure in all ways. As misguided as she’d been, she’d finally done something she wanted to do. And she’d lost her virginity. After thirty years, that had to be considered an accomplishment of sorts.

  Smoothing a hand nervously over her stomach, she forced herself to stop thinking about Conner and the horrifying possibility of living with a daily reminder of that fateful night, and read the instructions on the questionnaire. There are basically three modes of interpersonal behavior: passive, which is characterized by an overly nice or submissive quality; aggressive, which is often intimidating or manipulative; and assertive, which is bold, confident and fair behavior. To evaluate your natural tendencies, please answer the questions below according to how you would act in the situation given:

  1. You are sharing an apartment with a friend. He or she borrows a garment of yours without asking and stains it. You find it wadded up on the floor of your closet. Would you—

  a. Accept the damage without comment because you really don’t want an argument?

  b. Angrily destroy a garment belonging to your roommate in retaliation?

  c. Call your roommate and calmly explain that you have a problem with this type of behavior, that you work hard for your money and feel he/she should reimburse the cost of the garment and have the courtesy to ask before borrowing any clothes in the future?

  What about extenuating circumstances? Delaney wondered. What if that friend was very generous with her possessions and not likely to mind having garments borrowed or even ruined? That would make c seem a little high-handed and condescending. Clothes were only clothes, and if that person was Rebecca, things would always even out in the end. But b was way off the scale of possible reactions, which left her with a. So she marked it and moved on.

  2. You are waiting in line to go to a movie that has just debuted. It is getting rave reviews, and you have come early to get good seats. Two young teens cut in front of you in line, and then invite all their friends to join them. Do you—

  a. Allow them to cut in front of you because stopping them isn’t worth making a scene.

  b. Shove them out of line.

  c. Kindly but firmly tell them that you purchased your tickets early and have been standing in line for some time, that they need to go to the back and take their turn, and that if necessary, you’ll get the manager to enforce fairness.

  Shove them out of line? Jeez, who made up these things? In any case, Rebecca typically went with her to the movies, which meant that if some teenagers crowded in front of them and really threatened their seating, Rebecca would tell them to haul their butts to the back of the line, and they’d do it. Delaney wouldn’t have to say or do anything. But even if Rebecca wasn’t around, Delaney couldn’t see calling for a manager. Kids did that kind of thing all the time, and she couldn’t imagine letting it upset her to the point of causing a problem. That’d be a again.

  3. You are in the middle of watching your favorite television program. A good friend or significant other comes in and asks you to go with him or her to get the car washed. Would you—

  a. Turn off the television and go, knowing you’ll miss the rest of your show?

  b. Criticize your friend for asking you during your favorite program and feel put out that he or she couldn’t intuit your desire to finish the program?

  c. Tell him or her you’d love to go as soon as your show is over.

  Another tough one. Delaney chewed on the end of her pencil and read through the options again. She’d care more about being with a good friend or significant other than watching any television show, but she was beginning to see the pattern. If she put another a, she’d be categorized as terribly passive, and passive was no longer a good word in her vocabulary. So she finished the questionnaire with all c answers and turned out amazingly assertive. The doorbell saved her from going back to give honest responses.

  “Good timing,” she murmured, getting up. She set aside the questionnaire, thinking it was stupid, anyway, then opened the door to find Roy from the Running Y Ranch.

  “Hi, Roy,” she said. “I didn’t think you were going to make it today.”

  “I don’t miss on the days you sell apple. You’ve got one left, I hope.”

  “I do. I have a Dutch apple and a sour cream apple, but that’s about it.”

  “I’ll take the Dutch.”

  “Come on in while I get it.” She went to the freezer in the small attached garage and brought back the pie he’d requested. “Been busy?” she asked conversationally as she wrote out his sales ticket.

  He scowled. “You could say that. The owner’s sent his snot-nosed grandson out here for me to baby-sit.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He’s got to be thirty, but it’s baby-sitting all the same.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s supposed to take over the ranch, but he don’t know dollars from doughnuts.”

  Delaney handed him his pie. “He must not be a country boy.”

  “He’s not. First day here, he asks me what kind of cattle we’re runnin’ and wants to know whether we’ve fenced the entire property.”

  She laughed. “Doesn’t the BLM own part of it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can he sit a horse?” she asked, accepting his eight dollars in exchange for the pie.

  “From what I saw yesterday, he can, but only because he’s as ornery as they are.”

  “Well, if he’s that ornery, he might make a good cowboy, given time. How long is he planning to stay?”

  “Hasn’t said, but I give him three months. He’s not used to gettin’ his hands dirty, and there ain’t no way a pretty boy like that’s gonna last.”

  “Well, I hope you’re rid of him soon.”

  “You and me both,” he said, and with a tip of his hat, he stepped outside, where he nearly ran into Rebecca, who was coming up the walk.

  “Hi, Roy,” she said, grabbing his arm to steady herself so she didn’t fall into the muddy flower bed. “I cut Dottie’s hair today at the beauty parlor. Said
you got company out at the ranch.”

  “We got trouble, you mean,” he grumbled.

  “Can’t you use the help?”

  “I need a cook for when Dottie’s daughter has her baby and Dottie goes out of state to help her. I don’t need someone who doesn’t know a damn thing about cooking or ranching.”

  “Dottie didn’t seem to think Clive’s grandson is so bad,” Rebecca said.

  “That’s ’cause she wants to set him up with her niece.”

  “So he’s single?” Rebecca asked.

  “Far as I know. But there’s no need to break off with Buddy. This guy’s a short-timer. He’s just here to please Grandpa. Soon as his backside’s sore enough from ridin’, he’ll head home to California. And the sooner the better, I say.”

  Delaney could understand Roy’s frustration. These were hard times for ranchers, and he was a no-nonsense type who liked to get the job done. But his impatience with Dundee’s newcomer made her feel a touch empathetic. She’d once been new. What would she have done if the town hadn’t opened its arms to her?

  “Wait a second, Roy,” she said. “I have one pie left. Maybe I should send it with you for your guest. It might make him feel more welcome.”

  “I have bigger things to worry about than pampering the pampered,” he retorted.

  “It’ll just take a minute.”

  “No, he’s had everything he’s ever wanted. And from what his uncles tell me, he hasn’t been worth his keep since the day he was born.”

  “I said I want to send him a pie!”

  Roy’s eyes widened at her firm tone, and he looked questioningly at Rebecca.

  Rebecca shrugged. “Assertiveness training,” she said, squeezing around him to enter the house.

  “Oh,” he said. “Sure, send him a pie if it’s that important to you.”

  Delaney nodded, feeling somewhat vindicated after that lousy questionnaire—and a little embarrassed about taking such a strong stand. “Beck, write him a quick welcome note for me,” she said, and dashed off to the garage for the last pie.

  CONNER WAS GETTING A HEADACHE. Breaking only for dinner, he’d spent hours in the study, researching the cattle industry on the Internet and looking for other avenues of income, like mining or farming. But nothing he’d found seemed plausible for the Running Y. There wasn’t much silver or gold in the area. No molyndenum or industrial garnets or phosphate rock as there were in other parts of the state. And the rugged mountains made it too impractical to plant feed or other crops. Which meant Conner had to do something else. But what? He was running out of ideas.

  Hoping for a revelation, he started visiting the Web sites of various cities in Idaho and bordering states, to gain familiarity with the area and make note of population, agriculture and industry. But after another hour of reading charts, graphs, maps and summaries, he sat back with a sigh and pressed his palms to his tired eyes.

  You’re crazy to be doing this, a voice in his head taunted, taking advantage of the quiet room and creeping discouragement. If you think you’ll finally prove yourself worthy of the Armstrong name, you’re a fool. Nothing’s going save this place. And if you own it, if you take it into your heart and soul, you’ll walk away even emptier than when you came here.

  “Shut up,” Conner said, teeth clenched.

  But the voice merely laughed at him. Don’t risk it, man. Pack up and walk out. You know the routine. You’ve done it plenty of times before—

  There was a knock at the office door. “Conner? You in there?”

  Roy. Just what he needed—more quality time with his foreman.

  “Come in,” he said, swiveling away from the computer.

  The door opened and Roy strode in, boots thudding against the carpet. He carried a square white box, which he placed on the edge of Conner’s desk. “Gal from town sent ya somethin’.”

  “What is it?” Conner asked.

  “What’s it look like?” he said, and left.

  Conner stood, pulled the box closer and read the attached note.

  Welcome to Dundee. I sell pies for $8 every Sunday, but this is a free sample. Number 8 Second Street. Delaney Lawson.

  Delaney! Conner stiffened when he read the name. Surely this woman couldn’t be the Delaney he’d met in Boise. That Delaney was from Jerome, which was nearly four hours away.

  Crossing quickly to the door, Conner hollered down the hall and managed to catch Roy just before he headed outside, presumably to the small cabins beyond the barn.

  “Who is this Delaney person?” he asked.

  The two golden retrievers, Sundance and Champ, who belonged to the ranch, came charging down the hall, tails wagging.

  “Just a gal in town,” Roy said.

  Dottie poked her head out of the kitchen, where she was still cleaning up the dinner dishes, judging by her wet hands. “Are you talking about Delaney Lawson?”

  “She sent him a pie,” Roy volunteered.

  “Bless her heart.” Dottie dried her hands on the towel slung over her shoulder. “That little Delaney’s a dear thing. And she makes the best-tasting pie you’ll ever want to eat. She used to win every baking ribbon at the fair and—”

  “What does she look like?” Conner interrupted, too impatient to wait through what promised to be a litany of praise.

  “She’s pretty, but she’s getting up in age and it doesn’t look as though she’s ever gonna marry. Spends all her time at the library or baking.”

  Delaney certainly wasn’t “getting up in age” and didn’t seem the type to closet herself away in a library. Besides, she’d said she was in Boise on business. He could be wrong, but he didn’t think librarians traveled on business. At least, he wouldn’t expect a librarian from a small town like Dundee to do so.

  “Does she have any siblings?” he asked, racking his brain to remember the details he’d learned about his mystery woman’s family.

  “Not a one,” Dottie answered. “Our little Laney was raised by Millie and Ralph Lawson. They’re a gentle old couple who owned the drugstore for years and years. I remember stopping by there on my way home from school to buy candy when I was just a girl. They’re retired now. Sold the store to the Livingstons, but Ralph and Millie still live in the same house they’ve always lived in, right off Front Street.”

  “They don’t own a large farm?” Conner asked, finally giving in to the dogs’ persistence and bending to give them each a pat. “They don’t have any ties to Jerome?”

  “Jerome?” Dottie echoed.

  “They don’t own a farm. They don’t have any ties to Jerome,” Roy insisted, still poised at the front door. “Laney’s the town librarian, and she’s the type that likes to look after people. She wanted to make you feel welcome, so she sent you a pie. That’s it. Don’t read anything more into this,” he said, and the screen door slammed behind him.

  “Roy’s right,” Dottie agreed. “I don’t think Millie and Ralph have any kin in Jerome. And they’ve certainly never owned a farm.”

  “Of course.” Conner straightened, feeling silly for pressing them so hard—and strangely disappointed at the same time. Dundee’s Delaney probably wore thick glasses and thick-soled shoes. The townsfolk considered her too unappealing to find a husband. And now that he thought about it, the bold, loopy handwriting on the note that had arrived with the pie looked nothing like Delaney’s neat “Thank you.” Obviously, he had the wrong person.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Armstrong?” Dottie asked, and Conner realized he was still standing in the hall, staring off into space, picturing the Delaney he’d wanted it to be, the one with the smile he’d never forget.

  “No, nothing,” he said and forced a congenial nod before shooing Sundance and Champ away and turning back to his office. “Just thought I recognized the name.”

  “SO? WHAT DOES IT SAY?” Rebecca demanded, and Delaney knew, from the sound of her voice that she was hovering just outside the bathroom door.

  “Nothing yet. You’re supposed to give it a few mi
nutes,” she said, gnawing anxiously on her bottom lip. She’d waited three weeks to take the in-home pregnancy test they’d driven nearly all the way to Boise to purchase. Now, at long last, the moment of truth had arrived. In less than two minutes, the little plastic indicator would turn pink—if Delaney was pregnant.

  “I don’t think you’re pregnant. Your breasts haven’t been sore, have they?” Rebecca said through the panel.

  Delaney’s breasts had seemed a little more sensitive than usual, but she couldn’t exactly claim they’d been sore. Considering how badly she didn’t want to be pregnant from that encounter at the Bellemont, it was entirely possible that her mind was playing tricks on her.

  “I don’t think so,” she hedged. “But it’s only been three weeks. Is there supposed to be a difference in so short a time?”

  “I don’t know. But my sisters complained about being tired right from the start, and you’ve had your normal energy.”

  “I guess,” Delaney said. Actually, she’d been exhausted, but that was probably because she hadn’t been sleeping well at night. She couldn’t stop worrying about the possibility of a baby. She was going to feel terrible—even worse than she already did—about the way she’d deceived Conner if she found out she was indeed pregnant with his child. “What other signs are there?”

  “I don’t know,” Rebecca responded.

  “I bet some people don’t experience anything noticeable, not so soon,” Delaney said. Now dressed, she braced herself emotionally and opened the door to let Rebecca in so their collective willpower might influence the results. “Please don’t turn pink. Please don’t turn pink,” she muttered as they both stood by the small vanity and stared hard at the plastic indicator.

  “Pink means there’s a baby?” Rebecca asked.

  “Pink means there’s a baby,” Delaney breathed.