“Koby?” Jeff questioned, then provided his own answer. “Oh, yes. Kodiak Blue. The horse that’s going to put the S-J breeding and training project on the map. Matt’s a tad riled about that, too.”
“Matt was raised on sour milk. At least, when it comes to anything I do.”
Jeff’s shrug could have been agreement or simple understanding. “He expects you to listen to him, instead of going off half-cocked to do the exact opposite of any advice he’s seen fit to give you. I admit I’m a little puzzled about this particular decision myself. I thought the three of us agreed you’d choose breeding stock from the list Matt put together. You know how he feels about bloodlines, yet after six months with barely any word at all, you suddenly show up with maybe the one horse in the whole damn country guaranteed to send Matt’s blood pressure soaring higher than the Tetons. You’ve made it damned hard to defend you, ’Lex.”
“I don’t need your defense, Jeff. Koby is a good horse. A great horse. He’s going to win the cutting futurity regardless of how little faith you, Matt, or anyone else has in him. He’s going to win because he’s got something more important than blue blood. He’s got the heart of a champion and the spirit of a competitor. He will win, Jeff. He will.” Alex met his brother’s doubt with resolution. “He’ll win hands down...providing he makes a complete recovery.”
“Recovery?”
“Bowed tendon. Happened this evening.”
Jeff hid his dismay, but not so well that Alex didn’t see it anyway. “No wonder you forgot about dinner,” Jeff said. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. He just pulled up lame as we were heading back to the barn. I’ve been working him with Dex Thatcher’s calves all week. Figured the longer I kept him out of Matt’s sight, the happier we’d all be. The horse put in a good day today, then suddenly began favoring the left front leg. Annie examined him, said he should be okay with stall rest and light exercise for the next four weeks.”
“And even with that kind of set-back you still think he can win the futurity?”
Alex nodded, unwilling to show even a fraction of his own, gnawing doubt. “He’ll be right as rain by the end of the month. You can count on it.”
“I hope you can count on it, Alex, because Matt is going to have a holy fit when he finds out the horse is lame on top of being poorly bred.”
It was a challenge to hold his temper, but Alex managed. “Matt’s just going to have to believe me when I tell him I know what I’m doing. I know what this horse can do. We’ll be ready by the end of December when the futurity is scheduled.”
“I sure hope you’re right, Alex. I don’t see how you can be, but I sure hope you’re right.”
Nothing like family support, Alex thought. He’d heard from both brothers now and the score was an unsurprising McIntyres—two, Alex—zero.
Jeff walked over and picked his good-looking Stetson off the rack. “So,” he said, changing his tone and the subject, “you’ve been to Annie’s?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
Alex looked up. “And what? She’s pregnant. Did you know?”
Jeff had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “It’s hardly a secret,” he said defensively. “Especially considering all the ideas she and Josie are tossing around for this First Baby of Bison City 2000 contest. I figured you either knew about Annie’s pregnancy or you didn’t.”
“I know now. It would’ve been nice if someone had seen fit to tell me ahead of time, because finding out in person was something of a shock, but I survived the awkward moments.” He shrugged. “Annie says the baby’s not mine.”
“She does?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Well, then, I guess congratulations aren’t in order for you... or are they?”
“Not at the moment, no.”
Jeff frowned. “Does that mean you believe her or you don’t?”
“It means I’ll let you know when I think it’s any of your business.”
“A bit touchy, there, aren’t you, little bro?”
Alex shrugged, unwilling to chance an argument with the only brother he could have a halfway normal conversation with. “I helped her paint the baby’s room tonight.”
“I can see by your boots that you painted outside the lines again.”
Looking down at the obvious stripe and yellow dots, Alex hoped he could get them clean. “Must have stepped in the bucket,” he said. “The house needs a lot of work. You’d think Dex would have done something to the place before lettin’ her move in, instead of leaving it all for her to do. I know people say it was great of him to give her a roof over her head when she was orphaned and all, but I’m not sure he did her any favors by taking her in.”
“Oh, come on, Alex, you’ve always been too hard on the old man. He just doesn’t know how to show his emotions. He cares a lot for Annie. Everybody knows that.”
Alex wasn’t convinced. “Well, the house is in terrible shape. I’m going to do what I can to fix it up. She needs help, even if I can’t get her to admit it.”
“Annie’s always been an independent little thing. You sure she wants you to be her Mr. Fix-It?”
“I’m not asking permission. Since Koby’s out of commission for the next couple of weeks, I’ve got time on my hands. The way I see it, I may as well put it to good use and do what I can to make the place livable for Annie. Even if the baby isn’t mine, I figure I at least owe her that much.”
“I somehow doubt she’ll see it your way.”
Alex met his brother’s gaze across the room. “As I said, I’m not asking. I’m just doin’.”
Jeff nodded, said nothing for a moment, then, “Matt’s in the office. Steer clear of him tonight. But if I were you, I’d get busy finding Willie and makin’ amends.”
The guilt returned in a landslide. “I don’t suppose anyone will believe it was an honest mistake?”
Fitting the Stetson over his dark hair, Jeff put his hand on the doorknob and smiled. “You’ve always been able to brazen your way through a full-speed stampede, Alex. Don’t go gettin’ humility on us now.” He pushed open the door. “Willie’s in her room. Tell her your prize stallion tore a tendon right at supper time and I suspect she’ll be in here heatin’ up your dinner and fussin’ over you before you even get to the groveling part.”
Jeff went out, leaving Alex alone with a tepid plate of leftovers and a lump of regret the size of Nevada in his throat. Setting the plate aside, he headed upstairs to change his clothes and stow Loosey before he, like a remorseful kid, went looking for Willie with an apology as worthless as a broken slingshot tucked in his hip pocket.
ANNIE GOT TO the café first, settled into a booth near the front and ordered a cup of coffee. The hubbub in the Chuck Wagon was at its normal, noisy Saturday-morning best, but she still heard the slight snap as Nell’s eyebrows went up. “You’re not ’sposed to have caffeine,” the owner-waitress said. “I’ll bring you some milk.”
“I don’t want milk,” Annie stated. “I want coffee.”
Nell gave her The Look, making Annie think Genevieve must be going around town, giving lessons. “Just watching out for you,” Nell said, unyielding.
“Thanks, but I’m perfectly capable of watching out for myself, and one cup of coffee isn’t going to hurt me or the baby.”
“Not while you’re in the Chuck Wagon it’s not, that’s for sure. Now, we’ve got skim or 2 percent. Take your pick. Oh, and buttermilk, too, if you’d rather have that.”
In her nightmares, maybe. “I’ll have decaf,” she said, conceding the much-desired caffeine.
“Nope, I don’t think so. There’s somethin’ about those decaffeinated beverages I don’t trust. You can have milk.”
Annie sighed, wishing she’d thought to meet Josie out of town somewhere, where no one knew her well enough to boss her around. “Bring me a glass of chocolate milk.”
Nell went deaf. “I could get you a cup of herbal tea. No harm in you drinking that, I ’spose.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Annie said with sincere frustration. “You might want to call Dr. Elizabeth and get a permission slip first.”
With another sharp lift of her eyebrows, Nell tucked her pencil and pad into her apron pocket. “I’ll come back to get your order when you’re in a better humor.”
Annie came very close to being surly and stating that a cup of coffee would improve her humor considerably, but she was afraid that would ultimately prevent her from being allowed to order breakfast. By the time Josie arrived, squeezed in on the other side of the booth, and picked up the menu, Annie was halfway through a cup of Bright Eyes herbal tea, waiting for the invigorating, upswing effect on her mood which Nell had predicted would come after the first sip. “Order herbal tea,” she told Josie. “It’ll save time.”
“It’s Saturday,” Josie said, perusing the breakfast specials, which changed only often enough to make customers check the menu just in case. “I have all morning.”
“Then order herbal tea. It’ll save your sanity.”
Josie grinned and closed the menu. “Is that what you’re drinking?”
Annie lifted her cup. “It beats buttermilk.”
“What wouldn’t?” Josie agreed, eyeing the tea bag, pruned up and drying on Annie’s saucer. “On the other hand, my appetite these days seems insatiable. I used to be such a picky eater, but now... I swear someone could suggest I mix olives and tuna salad in with my buttermilk and I’d think it sounded right tasty. Either this baby is hollow, or I’m going to have some serious diet issues when the pregnancy is over.”
Annie laughed, mostly because she just plain liked Josie McIntyre Moore. “As long as you don’t order coffee this morning, I think you’re safe. Have you had any more brainstorms about how we can make money with the First Baby in 2000 contest?”
“Not yet. Believe it or not, this has been a busy week. Bison City is practically bursting at the seams with news.”
“News?” Annie repeated, thinking that news and Bison. City normally didn’t get combined in the same sentence. “You’re just trying to convince me to buy a copy of Monday’s Bugle, aren’t you?”
“Nope, but you’re going to want to, anyway. For starters, there was a fire in the trash bin behind the Stop’n Shop Wednesday morning early. Asa Mills suspected it was arson, but it turned out to be one of his own stinky cigar butts that set the trash to smoldering. Then on Thursday, the first-grade class at Merriman Elementary put on a kiddie rodeo, where they roped chairs, rode stick horses and sang songs. There was even a foot-stompin’ square dance.” She patted her tummy. “I hope the school is still doing the rodeos when this little fella—or filly—is old enough to participate. It was just about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Nell sashayed up to their table. “Mornin’, Mrs. Mayor,” she greeted Josie. “What can I get for you?”
“Herbal tea would be nice.”
Nell wrote on her pad. “Good choice,” she said, crossing the t with a flourish. “Some expectant mothers fight me tooth and nail to get caffeine. Glad you’re not one of ’em.” She spun on her rubber-soled heels and yelled at Holden Smith, the short-order cook, to light a fire under the teakettle and not singe his eyebrows while he did it.
“It figures,” Annie said with a wry smile. “I get a lecture and you get the gold star for good behavior. On the record, I only asked for coffee. I didn’t really try to wrestle her for it”
“It’s a darn good thing you warned me. Otherwise, I’d have ordered coffee and gotten the lecture, too. But listen, I have news. Real news.”
“You mean something besides a fire and the first-grade rodeo?”
“You betcha.” Josie glanced behind her, slid a cautious look all around, then leaned across the table. “Guess who eloped last night?”
“Your brother.”
Josie frowned as if that had come out of left field. “Which one? Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t be that lucky. Who in this town would want one of them? Guess again.”
For a heartbeat, Annie felt a stupid relief. Not that she even knew why she thought Alex might have been the one, or who he might have eloped with if he had been. There was no rhyme nor reason for it. Not even a breath of logic in the way he was always the first answer she gave to any question. “Elope...elope...” She considered other possibilities for a second guess, then threw out a wistful, “Genevieve?”
Josie’s laughter squashed that hope in the budding. “Good one, Annie. You’re quick. Wrong, but quick. Come on. Who is the very last person in Bison City you think of when I say the word elope?”
Annie ran an imaginary finger down a mental list of residents. “Reverend Whitehead?”
“Bingo.”
“You’re kidding.” She could see, though, that Josie wasn’t. She had to wait until after Nell brought Josie’s tea before asking, “But who...?”
“Sally Jo Turner, that’s who.”
Annie blinked. “But she’s younger than we are and he’s got to be...?”
“Forty-eight last Angust.” Josie sat back, delighted with her scoop. “Can you believe it? Roper Simpson called Justin about nine-thirty last night—we’d just got home from having dinner out at the ranch—and said he saw a light on over at the church and it seemed just a tad suspicious to him. Well, Justin immediately called Sheriff Hitchcock who called the deputy on duty, who turned out to be Sally Jo’s uncle Clem, who pulled his gun as he gumshoed up behind them when they were getting into the reverend’s Audi, and scared himself—as well as the two of them—plum silly. It’s a wonder he didn’t shoot himself in the foot. By the time Justin arrived, there was already a gathering of the Turner clan, who’re none too happy about Sally Jo hooking up with a man of the cloth, much less a Methodist. However, there wasn’t a thing they could do about it because the deed was done. The reverend and Sally Jo were married in Las Vegas earlier in the day and were just stopping by the church to pray before heading to the parsonage.”
“At least he knew enough to pray that her family wouldn’t murder him.”
“It’s probably all that saved him,” Josie agreed.
Annie shook her head in wonder. “Sally Jo Turner and Reverend Whitehead. Wow. I never would have suspected the reverend of lusting after Sally Jo, and I sure wouldn’t have picked him for her.”
“That’s love for you. Doesn’t always make sense. It’s just there, whether anyone thinks it ought to be or not.”
Wasn’t that the truth. “But what could they possibly have in common?”
Josie grinned. “Maybe it’s their shared passion for Saturday-night bingo at the VFW. I heard from a very reliable source that they’ve been holding hands under the table during the jackpot round.”
“Holding hands must not be all they’ve been doing, if they up and eloped without anyone suspecting what they were plan...” Annie’s comment faded away when Alex walked in and set the welcome bell over the door to tingling. He looked around the café—searching, she somehow knew, for her—and set her pulse to tingling with the same kind of energy. A welcoming smile curved her lips before she knew it was there, and across the table Josie turned to see who was on the receiving end. “Look out,” Josie said when he was still two tables away. “My brother’s tracked us down.”
“Maybe he was just tracking breakfast,” Annie suggested, although she knew Alex was, more than likely, here on one mission or another.
“Morning, ladies.” He reached their booth and unceremoniously scooted in beside his sister, nudging her relentlessly toward the corner. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
“Obviously a rhetorical question.” Josie acted like a sibling and dug her elbow into his arm to keep him from taking over all of her space. “It’s just like you, Alex, to skip out on a dinner where you were supposed to be the guest of honor and horn in on a breakfast where you weren’t invited.”
This time it was Annie’s eyebrows that climbed in surprise, not because Alex would miss a dinner or invite him
self to join them for breakfast, but rather because Josie seemed upset with him for it.
With an unconcern that Annie knew in her heart was merely his tough-guy disguise, Alex reached in front of Josie, placing his hat on the shelf that ran the length of one wall and was dotted, booth by booth, with customers’ cowboy hats and an occasional lady’s handbag. “I didn’t remember Willie’s dinner until I walked in last night and found the plate of leftovers she put in the stove to warm for me. And before you start giving me what-for, I’ve already thoroughly expressed my regret to Willie and Matt, so hobble your scold and save it for some long trail ride when neither one of us has anything better to talk about.”
“I hope Willie pinned your ears back.”
“What she didn’t say, Matt did, at length. There’s no way you can make me feel any worse than I already do, so let’s talk about somethin’ else, shall we?” He smiled at Annie across the table. “Mornin’, Annie. I’ve just been out to check on Koby. Thanks for feeding him. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It comes with the whole room-and-board package. Besides, I wanted to see if the swelling was down and make sure he weathered the night all right.”
“He seemed to be as tickled as a heifer with a new fence post.” He reached over and tugged on a strand of Josie’s dark hair. “Just like you, whenever I pull your pigtails.”
“In that case, you should shoot him now and put him out of his misery.” Josie thumped him on the arm in retaliation for the hair tug. “What’s wrong with your horse?”
“Bowed tendon,” he said in a tone Annie recognized as his I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it voice. He smiled across the table at her. “I don’t see any paint speckles in your hair, so I guess you managed to get cleaned up without me.”
“I’ve been washing my hair without any help since I was five years old,” she said, wishing he didn’t always have such an instantaneous, invigorating effect on her. Forget caffeine. Forget Bright Eyes herbal tea. All she needed to jump-start her heart was Alex in the morning. “It took some scrubbing, but I got rid of the speckles, no thanks to you.”
Baby by Midnight? Page 11
