Stuart

An enlarged photograph of wild mustangs running through brown grasses hangs on the wall behind Bill’s desk. I study it, looking for animals I recognize.

“Feeling nostalgic?” My uncle’s voice always carries an easy wisdom, no pressure, always aware.

“This was the herd Freckles came from.” I spot her white face and black mane toward the center of the group of seven.

Bill walks to the photograph and studies it a moment. He’s as tall as I am and just as lean. Today he’s dressed in cowboy boots and jeans, same as me, and a faded plaid shirt.

“She wasn’t native to that herd. I only kept her to prevent her from being injured or stolen.”

“She’s the only one you’ve ever kept.”

“Yeah, and it was a foolish decision.” He walks over to sit in a distressed brown-leather chair. “She’s always been wild, trying to escape.”

“But she always comes back.”

We’re quiet several moments, and I think about the different horses that have come through the place. Typically when Bill helps with a roundup, the wild horses only stay a short time and are sold for cheap. My uncle is more interested in ensuring they’re free to roam across his property, across the plains.

He interrupts my thoughts, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. “Have you thought any more about taking over the place?”

My words from last night have been swirling in my head, low and disturbing, ever since I said them. “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn like that. Evan talking about cutting up the place and selling it got to me more than I expected.”

“You get used to it with a ranch this size.” His dark brown eyes study me. “Still, if it’s something you truly want, I’d be open to discussing it. You’re good with the animals, and I know you love it here.”

My boots make a dull thump on the yellow-pine floors. Rounding the desk, I rub the back of my neck, thinking. Five thousand acres is a hell of a spread, even with most of it being empty grassland. Still, the very thought of those miles of open wilderness filters a unique calm through my chest.

“I’m not sure how Mariska feels about it,” I hedge. “To be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about it.” It’s a lie. I know exactly how I feel.

“Well, we’ve got time.” With a grunt, he pushes off his legs to stand. “The worst thing you can do is pressure the future. What’s going to happen will come.”

I glance to my right and give him a tight smile. Old hippie.

We leave the confines of his office and enter the enormous, open living room. The kitchen and dining area are on the opposite end of the space, and Winona’s standing at the bar quietly kneading what looks like dough.

“You never told me why you moved here from Scottsdale.” My brother and I grew up visiting Bill on a similar spread in the desert southwest. “You had a pretty sweet setup before.”

“I fell in love with the raw beauty of this place. One visit and I was hooked.” Stopping in front of the empty, black fireplace, he nods as if agreeing to an internal sentiment. “It’s spiritual.”

I know what he means. “Have you ever wanted to leave?”

“After your dad died, I considered it. You boys were too big to come and stay in the summers, and it looked like you were overseas for good…” His voice trails off, and I get the sense he has another reason he’s keeping to himself.

“What changed your mind?”

Glancing up, he gives me a little smile. “Who says it changed? I’m just waiting for the right offer.”

My mother’s words ring in my ears, He’s getting too old to manage the place, and again my insides clench at the thought of someone else being here. Last year is heavy on my mind. When things got so bad, when I had nowhere else to go, I came here and got back on my feet.

“I’m glad you were here last year,” I confess.

He reaches out and grips my shoulder. “Me too.”

Bill has battled his own demons in the past. When the time came for me to face down mine, he was the one person I knew I could trust. Of course, my brother Patrick and my partner Derek dropped everything to come here and see me through that dark time as well. Patrick just happened to bring Mariska… He also noticed something I’d never seen before. The tenderness my dad’s younger brother always shows to our mom.

“Mom seems to enjoy visiting the place, too.” It’s my turn to give him a sly grin. “She’s been coming out here quite a bit since December.”

His hand is still on my shoulder, and he gives it a gentle push. “It’s not her kind of life. It never has been.”

My dad came to Great Falls once, shortly after Bill bought the place. He was supposed to stay a week, but he left after two days. It was too wild, too uncontrollable. I remember a time when I wanted to be just like my dad, then I learned things I never wanted to know about my father. As a Marine, he died with honor, but he and I weren’t as much alike as I used to believe. He made my mother sad for a very long time.

I know Bill won’t confide in me about his feelings for Sylvia, his brother’s widow. I think I understand his reasoning, but still I wish he would. Instead he leaves me at the hearth with more questions than answers, as usual.

---

Mariska

Even with our trip to the craft store, Sylvia and I make it back to the ranch with plenty of time before supper. Stuart is in the round pen working with Jessie, and for a moment, I spy on the two of them. I watch as he quietly opens his hand to the side and she bows her head, walking slowly toward him. Her nose is at his chest, and he gives her a treat I can’t see.

Still, when he reaches up between her ears, she shakes her head and pulls away. Resting my cheek against the weathered wood of the barn door, I sketch out this scene in my mind. My gorgeous cowboy and the beautiful little horse he gave me. As much as he tells me not to get too attached, I know she’s mine.

For a moment, I watch as she jogs around the pen, until he looks up and sees me watching them. His hazel eyes darken, and it’s like shimmering heat against my skin. It’s time, and I can barely breathe with wanting to tell him.

“Starting without me?” I walk over to the metal fencing and rest my chin on the top bar.

Stuart comes to where I’m standing, sliding his warm hands up the sides of my forearms and holding my elbows before leaning down to give me a gentle kiss. Every touch fans anticipation higher in my chest.

“I wanted to get an idea of her personality.”

Reaching for his waist, I grip the sides of the striped-white cowboy shirt he’s wearing. “I’m sorry for cutting our ride short this afternoon. Would you come with me now? I’d like us to go somewhere alone.”

The breeze blows a strand of hair across my face, and he reaches out to smooth it away. “What did you have in mind?”

“Winona is packing dinner for us. I’d hoped we could drive to the cabin, where we can talk.”

“Talk?” His dark brow lines.

Stepping back, I grasp his hands and squeeze them. “Just… trust me.”

In less than twenty minutes we’re in the truck, driving out toward the little place where our love story began. I look out the window at the miles of green grasses dotted here and there with darker clumps of trees or bushes. The sun is making its way toward the horizon, but the sky is still brilliant blue with lazy clouds drifting along, assuming imaginary shapes and dissolving just as fast.

Our conversation is light. I tell him almost everything about going into town with his mother, leaving out the most important part of all. It takes all my willpower not to blurt it out.

Balanced on my lap is an enormous woven basket, complete with a blanket, checkered napkins, and a bottle of sparkling wine. I made sure to slip a bottle of lemonade and a few waters in my overnight bag as well, since I’ll only be having a sip of champagne.

The travel time is shorter than on horseback, and we’re in the small cabin, tossing our overnight bags on the bed in no time. Stuart moves around the one-room space turning on the water and checking the pilot light on the heater. He’s all business, but I’m internally buzzing.

“Come on,” I say once he’s done, reaching for his hand and grabbing the basket. A golden glow has settled over the grasses with the setting sun, and I lead him to the space reserved for bonfires on chilly nights. It’s the place where a year ago we sat wrapped in an Indian blanket telling each other everything about ourselves. A shooting star passed over our heads, and I wished he would be the father of my children. I wished he would fall in love with me as deeply as I’d already fallen in love with him.

“I confess the anticipation is getting to me,” he says, watching me set the basket down and pull out the blanket.

The constant wind fights with me to spread it until he steps forward to help. Before we left the house, I changed into a lacy white dress with spaghetti straps that tie at the tops of my shoulders and fastened the sides of my hair back in a barrette to keep it out of my face. Stuart is still in the striped shirt and jeans he had on working with Jessie.

Blanket spread, I motion for him to sit, which he does, and without hesitation, I climb onto his lap facing him, bunching my skirt so I’m in a straddle.

His hands go to my waist, and those beautiful eyes, more green than brown, fix on mine with the usual intensity. My bottom lip is between my teeth, and I suddenly feel as if an orange is stuck in my throat. Reaching for his neck, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“I’ve been waiting to tell you this…” My voice is soft, breathy, and his hands slide up and down my sides.

Looking into his eyes with the golden glow all around us, I can’t help thinking how amazing this moment is, magical. Flickering through my thoughts is the notion that what I’m about to say will change us forever.

“Okay,” he says, as if urging me on.

Touching my lip with my tongue, I slide my thumbs along the line of his strong jaw. “I…” a little laugh. I don’t know why my eyes are heating. “I think I’m going to cry.”

“Mariska,” his voice is a low groan. “You’re killing me.”

I laugh, and a tear drops. Just say it, silly. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take a slow inhale, and say the words.

“I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment the only noises are the wind in the grass and the far-off cry of a bird. Stuart’s hands freeze on my waist, and his eyes are the only things communicating with me. I’m looking deep into them as he blinks a few times, processing the meaning of what I’ve just said. Equally fast I see them fill with wonder.

He takes my face in both hands, and he touches me gently, his thumbs tracing the top of my cheekbones. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” I say, starting to laugh. My own hands are still resting on his neck, waiting for what happens next.

“Mariska…” He pulls me closer to kiss me, pushing my lips apart and finding my tongue, threading his fingers into the sides of my hair as our mouths chase each other, wonderful heat growing between us. When he leans back again, amazement is still on his face. “How? I mean, strike that. It’s just… you’ve been on the pill since—”

“I know! I don’t know what happened.” I shrug, gripping the tops of his toned shoulders. “I noticed my body acting weird, then I figured out I’d skipped a period. By the time I finally went to the doctor I was eight weeks along.”

“Eight weeks…” His eyes drop to my stomach followed closely by his hands. Holding my sides, he runs his palm along my still-flat stomach. “How far along are you now?”

“The doctor in town said I’m at twelve weeks. It’s time to do an ultrasound, but I couldn’t do it without you there.”

“The doctor in town?” His eyes are back on mine, and I nod, laughing again. “It’s why you were so distracted by Sylvia. You told my mother?”

“She found out. She caught me doing my daily bump check.”

“Bump check,” he repeats, looking down again and again sliding his hand across my stomach. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

Reaching for his cheeks again, I lift his gaze, needing to see his eyes when I say it. “Are you happy?”

Something flickers in his eyes, and in one fast move he catches my face, pulling it to his for a long, lingering kiss. He parts my lips, his tongue tracing the side of mine before moving to my cheek then he straightens to kiss my temple, my brow, before moving down again to find my eyes.

“I can’t believe it,” he says, his voice as quiet as mine.

My eyes are hot again, and I blink fast. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes isn’t right… Yes is too small a word.” He touches my cheek again. “You’re having my baby.”

“Stuart!” I can’t take these non-answers. My heart is beating painfully hard, and I need to hear him say it. “Is it okay? I know it’s not how we planned it, and I know you like to be in charge of everything—”

“Stop.” It’s a gentle order, and my lips press together. He kisses me once more, only briefly before catching my eyes again. “I’ve wanted this since our first night.”

Relief floods through me, and with a happy laugh, I dive forward, pushing my arms around his neck, holding his chest against mine so tight.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He’s holding me just as tight, and I feel his lips against my shoulder. “For what?”

“For making me a family.”

My eyes press closed so the only thing I know is the warmth of our bodies touching, the beating of our hearts together, our breath swirling in and out in a rhythm all our own. The beautiful dream, my wish, has come true.