The Cowboy on Her Trail

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “Aren’t you? Justin rescued you yesterday?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And where have you and he been since then?”

  Blaire rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, Mama, give it a rest. Just because we shared the last available motel room in Stillwater—because it was too dangerous to travel—doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “I’ll tell you what it means,” her mother said sharply. “If you’re not interested in marrying the man, you should at least stop sleeping with him. Otherwise, somebody—like maybe Justin himself—is going to get the idea that you think he’s good enough to sleep with but not good enough to marry.”

  “Mama! What a terrible thing to say.”

  “You mean that’s not the way it is?”

  “Of course not.”

  “If you say so,” her mother told her. “If you say so, sweetie. In which case, I’m afraid your father and I are going to have to insist that you and Justin get married.”

  Blaire blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

  “It’s the only right thing to do. For you and for the baby. You have to think about the baby, Blaire, and not just yourself, you know. It’s time to grow up and face the consequences of your actions.”

  Blaire swallowed against a knot of bitterness in her throat. “Is that what I’ve been to you? The consequences of your actions?”

  “Don’t sass me, young lady.”

  “You tell me to act like an adult, yet I’m supposed to be an obedient child and do as I’m told. You can’t have it both ways, Mama. If I’m an adult, and I assure you I am, then I make my own decisions.”

  Her mother’s face stiffened. “As long as you’re living under our roof—”

  “Now wait just a minute. You can’t pull out that old trick. First of all, I live over the garage, and the apartment is part of the pitifully low salary the store pays me since you broke your arm. I gave up my apartment, my job, my life, to come home and help you around the house and Daddy around the store. If I’m living under your roof, it’s because you’ve asked me to.”

  “That’s right. Throw my injury in my face.”

  “Mama,” Blaire wailed. It was going to be a long, long night.

  Justin didn’t have time to wonder how Blaire’s homecoming with her parents was going; he had his own family to deal with. He called a last-minute family meeting for supper that night. It was the only way to assure that Caleb and Melanie would come.

  A dinner invitation could be declined. Notice of a family meeting could not.

  “What’s this all about, Justin?” Caleb asked when he and his bride of fewer than three months arrived.

  Justin cut his gaze toward Sloan’s stepdaughters, Janie and Libby, then back to Caleb. “Can’t a guy want to see his brother—not to mention his newest sister-in-law—without everybody getting so suspicious?”

  Caleb caught on immediately to the fact that Justin didn’t want to talk about the purpose of the meeting in front of the two young girls.

  “So.” He punched Justin in the shoulder. “Trying to make time with my wife, huh?”

  “Hey,” Justin protested. “You think I’m stupid? I only do that when you’re not around, not when I’ve invited you to supper.”

  “Yeah.” Melanie rubbed her husband’s arm and smiled up at him. “He only tries to make time with me when you’re not around.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes and snorted. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  Justin smirked. “I usually do.”

  After supper, while Pedro took care of some final chores out in the barn, Maria asked Janie and Libby to help her with baby Rosa. The request was a sure-fire guarantee that the two little girls would be busy for some time, since they both adored Rosa.

  The rest of the family gathered in the living room.

  “Now,” Rose said firmly. “Perhaps Justin will tell us what this is all about?”

  “Yes, Grandmother.” Justin shuffled his feet a time or two and stuck his hands into his back pockets while trying not to look anyone in the eye.

  “What have you done?” Sloan demanded.

  Justin frowned. “What?”

  “You’re acting guilty as hell about something,” Sloan said. “Come on, just tell us. It can’t be that bad.”

  “No,” Justin protested. “It’s not bad. At least, not as far as I’m concerned. To me it’s good news. Great news. The best—”

  “Then tell us what it is,” Caleb snapped.

  “Yes, Justin, please do.” Rose smiled quietly. “Some of us don’t have as much time left on this earth as others.”

  “Oh, very funny, Grandmother,” he said. “But I think you’ve got enough time left to be here when my son or daughter is born next September.”

  The silence that fell across the room was complete and thick.

  Finally Rose nodded slowly. “So this is what has been on your mind these past many weeks.”

  “Actually,” he admitted, “I’ve only known about it for a couple of weeks.”

  “And are you going to tell us who the mother of your child is?”

  “Blaire Harding.”

  Cherokee Rose Chisholm felt her heart swell. There was pride and love in her youngest grandson’s voice when he spoke the name of the woman who carried his child. No one could ask for more than that. Justin was a good boy, a good man, with a heart as big as the world.

  “I assume there’s a wedding in the planning?” she said.

  “Uh, well…”

  Sloan straightened away from the wall he’d been leaning against. A hard light came into his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to marry her.”

  “It’s more like she won’t marry me,” Justin countered with no small amount of self-disgust. “But I’m working on her.”

  “You do that,” Sloan said. “Just see that you do that very thing.”

  “Now, Sloan.” His wife, Emily, patted his arm and gave Justin an encouraging smile. “You know Justin will do his best. Blaire will come around once she realizes what a terrific guy he is.”

  “Is that the problem?” Melanie doubled her fists and frowned. “She doesn’t think you’re terrific? Where is she. Give me five minutes alone with her—”

  “Pardon me,” Justin said to Caleb. Then he grabbed Melanie and planted a big, sloppy kiss right on her mouth, while she was still talking.

  Melanie sputtered into silence, albeit a short-lived one. “Well, hell. Isn’t that just like you? I’ve known you my entire life, and you wait until after I marry your brother before you kiss me. No wonder Blaire won’t marry you. You’re an idiot.”

  Feeling as if his wife had effectively put his little brother in his proper place, Caleb folded his arms across his chest and smiled.

  Justin raised his eyes to the ceiling as if seeking help. Then he shook his head. “Blaire has said that she doesn’t want to get married, but that she has no intention of keeping me out of the baby’s life. Before any of you say anything, yes, I plan to do my best to change her mind about marrying me. But that’s for the two of us to work out. I don’t want any of you putting any pressure on her about it, or bugging her about it, or anything else.”

  “Does she know you’re telling us?” Emily asked.

  Justin nodded. “She knows. Her parents know about it, and her cousins, but that’s about it, I think. I would just as soon we all leave the spreading of the news up to her.”

  It was quiet for another moment as everyone stared at Justin. Then Cherokee Rose Chisholm let out a war whoop that any old-time Cherokee would have been proud of.

  “Justin’s going to be a father! We’re having a baby!”

  The room erupted in cheers and laughter and congratulations.

  Later that night, lying in his lonely bed and wishing Blaire was there beside him, Justin called her number to tell her about his family’s reaction to their news. The phone rang several times. Just when he thought she wouldn’t answer, she did.

  “Did I wake you?” he as
ked.

  At the sound of his voice Blaire sniffed. “No. No, I’m awake.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You sound funny.”

  She sniffed again. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been crying, that’s all.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “What’s happened? What’s wrong? I can be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Only if you break every speed law in the county.” Her mood lightened considerably. “But thank you for the thought. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just a hormone thing.”

  “Nothing’s wrong?”

  “Nothing new, anyway. Nothing that made me start crying, except these crazy hormones.”

  “Damn, honey, does this happen often?”

  “Often enough,” she said, relieved to have this latest crying jag behind her. “Did you tell your family?”

  “I did. Tonight after supper. I called a family meeting, so Caleb and Mel were here for the news.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “How they took it? Oh, you know, lots of cheering and patting me on the back and asking how you’re feeling and when the baby’s due.”

  “Oh.” Dammit, here came the tears again. There was nothing she could do to stop them. She hadn’t been prepared for such acceptance from Justin’s family.

  Of course, she thought, sniffing back her suddenly drying tears, their reaction had probably been for his benefit, because they loved him. How they would act toward her, particularly if Justin wasn’t around, might be an entirely different story.

  “That’s sweet,” she added. “I’m glad they took the news so well.”

  “Are you kidding? They’re ecstatic,” he said.

  Hesitantly, she asked, because she couldn’t help herself. “What did they say about us not getting married?”

  He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I won’t lie to you. They’re disappointed. But they promised not to interfere, or pressure you.”

  Well, she thought, that was something, at least. However, all she had to do was see one of his family and she would feel pressured. But there was nothing anyone could do about that.

  “Blaire?”

  “Oh, sorry. My mind wandered. I’m glad they’re taking all this so well.”

  “Of course they are. We’re talking about the next generation of Chisholms. A new cousin for Sloan’s girls.”

  “You mean his new stepdaughters?”

  “Step, according to Sloan, is only a word. He believes it’s what’s in the heart, not the DNA, that makes a family. Those are his girls, and there’s no two ways about it.”

  “Your brother,” Blaire said in awe, “is a very special man.”

  “He’s not as special as I am,” Justin claimed.

  She smiled. “If you say so.”

  “I do, and don’t you forget it. So, I’ll bet your folks were glad to see you.”

  Blaire groaned. “Come on, Chisholm, we were having a nice, pleasant conversation here. Don’t ruin it now.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Nothing new,” she said. “Just more of the same, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Are they after you to marry me?”

  “I said I don’t—”

  “Was that a yes, or a no?” he asked.

  “It was neither. It was, it’s late and I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “So do I. My horse probably forgot what I look like, I’ve been gone so long.”

  “If you’d stayed home instead of following me all over the state, you wouldn’t have that worry.”

  “If I hadn’t trailed you nearly to Kansas, you’d still be sitting out there in that ditch in that little red tin can you call a car.”

  “I did thank you for rescuing me.”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice turning deliberately suggestive. “You certainly did.”

  “Good night, Justin.”

  “Good night, Blaire. Say good-night to my kid for me.”

  Blaire hung up the phone and pressed a hand over her womb, feeling tears well up in her eyes again. “Oh, baby, what am I supposed to do about this daddy of yours? And what am I going to do about your Chisholm uncles and aunts and your great grandmother?”

  It was the latter, Cherokee Rose Chisholm, who worried Blaire the most. The seventy-eight-year-old woman was a legend in the state of Oklahoma and beyond. She was known not only for her top-notch cattle and horses, but for her honesty, her generosity, and her loyalty, yet it was no secret that the lady didn’t take any crap from anybody. How did she really feel about this new Chisholm not being raised in the Chisholm family?

  Blaire got her chance to find out the next morning. At around ten o’clock a shiny silver SUV pulled up in the parking lot. The way the sun reflected off it, there was no way Blaire could miss it, sitting as she was, before the front window in her makeshift office in her parents’ house.

  The matriarch of the Chisholm clan stepped out of her vehicle as regally as any queen from her carriage. She even had a crown of sorts: her long black and iron-gray hair had been braided and the braid wrapped around her head. Her blue jeans were clean and crisp, her Western shirt piped in red and tucked into the waistband of her jeans, cinched by a brown leather belt with a big oval silver buckle. Her boots were hand-tooled and shined to within an inch of their lives.

  In a deliberate, moderate stride, she crossed the parking lot and entered the feed store.

  Sometime during the next few minutes Blaire realized that her fingernails were digging gouges into her palms. She purposely relaxed her hands, but a few seconds later realized they were knotted into fists again as she stared anxiously out the front window.

  What was Rose Chisholm doing in there? What would she say to her father about the baby? What would her father say in return?

  Blaire winced at the thought of the latter. He would have plenty to say, and all of it blaming Justin. Blaire would have to set the record straight as soon as she found out how much damage her father was doing to the Harding-Chisholm family relations.

  A few minutes later Mrs. Chisholm came out of the store with a flat of yellow pansies.

  Justin’s favorite flower, Blaire noted. But she, herself, would have chosen purple, his favorite color, were she planting flowers for him.

  Of course, Mrs. Chisholm was undoubtedly not planting to please her youngest grandson. More likely she planted to please herself.

  The woman stashed the flowers in the back of her SUV then headed across the lot toward the house.

  Blaire swallowed. There was no place to run, no place to hide from Justin’s grandmother. If there was a way to postpone this meeting, or avoid it altogether, Blaire would do it. She had seen Mrs. Chisholm dozens of times over the years, but they had never held a conversation, or even spoken to each other, as far as Blaire could recall.

  It looked as if that was all about to change.

  At the sound of the doorbell Blaire jerked from the window. All right. She squared her shoulders and wiped her sweating palms down the thighs of her jeans. It was time to meet her child’s great grandmother.

  With her breath locked somewhere near the bottom of her lungs, Blaire made her way down the hall, into the living room, and to the front door. She opened the door and blinked. Up close, Rose Chisholm was even more striking. Her bronze skin was smooth and amazingly free of wrinkles, giving her a youthful appearance. Her deep brown eyes, which could have been hard or cold, smiled at her.

  “Hello, Blaire.” Mrs. Chisholm held out her hand. “I’m Rose.”

  Blaire let out her breath and accepted the handshake. “Of course. Come in, please.”

  “I suppose I should,” she said, stepping in when Blaire moved aside. “Since I used checking on our account as an excuse to get your father to tell me where you were.”

  “If you really want to talk about your account, we can go to my office, otherwise, the living room is much more comfortable.”

  “Then let’s be comfortable,” Rose suggested with a smile. “Besides
, since Sloan got smart and married Emily, she handles most of our bookkeeping now. The girl is a godsend. For several reasons, bookkeeping being only one of them.”

  Blaire led Rose to the sofa and motioned for her to be seated. “Can I get you something to drink? My mother makes a fresh pitcher of iced tea every morning.”

  “No, thank you, my dear. I won’t stay long. I just wanted to come by and let you know that Justin told us last night about the baby.”

  Blaire sank to the cushion beside Rose. “Yes. He called and told me.”

  Rose peered at her closely. “He said you knew he was telling us. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Her lips twitched. “He asked my permission to tell you.”

  Rose nodded. “That’s my Justin. I’m glad he hasn’t forgotten his manners.”

  “Oh, no.” This time Blaire smiled easily. “Justin is nothing if not polite.”

  Rose nodded again. “I’m glad to hear it. You’ll pardon me for sticking my nose in, but I’m an old woman, with no guarantees of another year.”

  Blaire gasped and pressed a hand to Rose’s forearm. “You’re not ill, are you?”

  “What? Oh, no. How sweet of you to ask. No, I just meant that I’ve already lived most of my life, so I don’t like to dillydally around with what little time I’ve got left. Which is why I’m going to ask—did Justin ask you to marry him?”

  Blaire felt heat sting her cheeks. She found she could not hold the woman’s gaze. “Yes, he did. More than once. Please don’t blame him for the two of us not getting married. It’s my fault. I have my reasons for turning him down.”

  “And I won’t ask what they are. I’ll leave you that much privacy, at least,” Rose added with a slight smile. “But don’t be surprised if Justin tries to change your mind.”

  “No,” Blaire said. “I won’t.”

  “Is there anything you need?” Rose asked. “You or the baby? Whether you marry Justin or not, the child you carry makes you part of our family, and we take care of our own. We want to help in any way we can.”

  Blaire heard the sincerity in Rose’s words, in her voice, and was humbled by it. “Thank you. All I really need right now is to get my car out of the shop, but it’s not fixed yet, so no one can help with that.”