Montana Mistletoe Baby

“Maybe the same reason you left in the first place,” she replied, her voice low.

“You really wanted me dropping in on your family Christmases?” he asked.

“No.” She sighed. She wasn’t sure what she wanted—absolution, maybe. She hadn’t been the wife she’d tried to be back then, but now, as a mature woman, she wasn’t sure that her image of perfection had been realistic. It certainly hadn’t included the fights they used to have...

Barrie liked the challenge of taming a wild spirit when it came to horses and cattle, but she resented that same wild spirit when it came to her husband. Marriage meant hearth and home to her, but to Curtis, it had been a beat-up trailer parked wherever he was bull riding.

But he’d come back for Christmas with Betty a few times, and somehow that stung.

“I meant well, you know,” she added. “I only ever tried to make a home for you.”

“I was a bull rider,” he replied. “You knew all of that before you married me.”

“Most men settle down when they get married,” she countered. “A wife should change something.”

“Not my identity. You wanted me to act like a different man.”

“I wanted you to act like a married man!”

The old irritation flooded back, and she hated that. She’d come a long way in the last fifteen years, and it felt petty to slide back into those old arguments. She wasn’t the same person anymore, either.

“I never cheated on you,” Curtis countered.

“There is more to marriage than monogamy,” she said. “You had a home with me, Curtis. You treated it more like a hotel room.”

“In all the best ways.” He shot her a teasing look, and she rolled her eyes in response. They might have shared a passionate relationship, but that hadn’t been enough. She’d been the fool who’d married a man based on love and her belief in his potential.

“Forget it,” she said with a sigh. “It was a long time ago. I’m sorry to have brought it up.” This was exactly why they hadn’t worked out. They talked at cross purposes, but maybe he was right—she’d been trying to change him. She was wise enough now not to try that again.

Barrie turned her attention back to the cow. She checked its temperature, and while she couldn’t tell exactly how sick the animal was by temperature alone, it had a low fever. All the signs were here—the illness was spreading, apparently. She patted the cow’s rump, and it didn’t move.

“We wanted different things, Barrie,” he said. “You wanted that white picket fence that would please your parents and give you some respect around here. I didn’t care about Hope’s respect. I wanted some adventure. We just...clashed, I guess.”

Barrie dropped the thermometer back into her bag, and pulled out a fresh syringe and the bottle of medication. Yes, she’d wanted a respectable home, and she’d worked hard to create it. A garden in the backyard, flowers in the front... He’d never cared to put down his roots where she’d turned up the soil.

“Quite simple, really,” she said with a sigh. “And we’d been young enough to think it wouldn’t matter.” She turned back toward the cow. “I’ll give the antibiotic shot. It’ll boost her recovery.”

“You’re the expert,” he replied, and she glanced back to see Curtis standing there with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. The wind had reddened his cheeks, and she had to admit that he had aged. In a good way, though. He wasn’t like some of those boys from high school who were bald under their baseball caps and sported beer bellies now that they were creeping up to forty. Curtis was in good shape.

Barrie prepared the syringe, then felt for the muscle along the flank. Her feet were cold in her boots, and the wind stung her fingers. Just as the needle hit flesh, the cow suddenly lunged, knocking Barrie off balance as it heaved forward.

The cow stepped back so fluidly that she wasn’t able to pull herself out of the way quickly enough. But just before she was trampled, strong hands grabbed her by the coat and hauled her backward so fast that her breath stuck in her throat.

Barrie scrambled to get her feet underneath her, and Curtis lifted her almost effortlessly, then pulled her against him as she regained her balance. She was trapped in his strong arms, staring up into a face that was both achingly familiar and different at the same time.

“You’ve aged,” she said feebly.

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “Is that how you thank a cowboy?”

“Thanks...” Her stomach did a flip as she straightened and pulled out of his arms. “I’ll be fine.”

Curtis cast her a dry look.

“What?” She smoothed her hand over her belly.

“How many times have you told me now that you’re fine? I’m calling BS on that, Barrie. You aren’t the least bit fine right now.”

“The cow missed me—”

“That’s not what I’m taking about, and you know it.”

Barrie bent down to collect the syringe that had fallen into the snow. The cow had wandered off a couple of yards—maybe this particular cow had a bad experience with an immunization or something. Whatever had happened was all perfectly within the realms of normal when it came to a vet’s daily duties. Granted, if she weren’t pregnant, her reflexes might have been a bit faster...

“Curtis, you don’t actually know me anymore.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice lowering. “You might not have liked the kind of husband I was, but I was your husband. I knew you, and I can recognize when you’re freaked out.”

Curtis might know some of her deeper characteristics, but that didn’t mean he still knew how she thought and what could get a rise out of her. He’d missed fifteen years of personal growth. Besides, she hadn’t been enough for him, so he could take his insights into her reactions and shove them.

“I’m not freaked out.” She shot him an irritated look. “I’m fine.”

She looked toward the cow again and adjusted the syringe, getting it ready for one more try.

“I don’t need rescuing.” Her fingers moved as she spoke. “So do what you have to do with that building, and I’ll sort things out. I always have.”

“Fair enough.”

Barrie didn’t want him to sell that building, but he’d already made it clear that he was out of options. If their divorce had taught her one thing, it was that she was better off facing facts and dealing with them. Hoping and wishing didn’t help. She’d focus on her future with her child.

“And you’ll need to quarantine that cow,” she added.

“Yeah, I know. I’m not new to this, Barrie.” His smile was slightly smug, but arguing with Curtis Porter about just about anything wasn’t a great use of her time. Professional. In and out. What had happened to that excellent plan?

She headed toward the cow that had wandered off. She might be pregnant, and her life might be spinning right out of control at the moment, but she’d get through this by standing on her own two feet. Curtis was a cautionary tale—that was all.

Barrie took a deep breath, and let her tension go. The cattle could feel it. She patted the cow’s rump, then inserted the needle into the tough flesh. She slowly depressed the plunger, then pulled the needle out and firmly rubbed the injection site.

“Done.” She turned around and gave Curtis an arch look. “Like I said, quarantine that cow, and any others that appear sick. That’s the fastest way to curb an outbreak.”

Curtis might know her weaknesses, but she also knew his, and he was the furthest thing from reliable. She needed a plan and blinders, because with a baby on the way, she didn’t have the luxury of being knocked off balance a second time by the same cowboy.

Chapter Four (#u49508100-7e9c-51fe-8d26-abb2eb436d66)

The next morning, Barrie ran her hand over a golden Lab’s silky head. This was Cody, the beloved pet of the Hartfield family, and he’d broken his leg while running on the ice. He was still unconscious from the sedative she’d given him, but his leg was set, the cast was in place and he’d recover just fine. His mistress, thirteen-year-old Melissa Hartfield, stood anxiously to the side. She wore her winter coat, open in the front, and a pair of puffy boots. She was a town kid—her dad was the mayor.

“Will he be okay?” Melissa asked. She looked younger than her age—her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her large eyes scanning the equipment. She glanced up at the IV inserted into a vein in the dog’s leg, then down at the catheter Barrie had introduced to keep the dog comfortable while she worked. The catheter was out now.

“He’ll be fine,” Barrie reassured her. “It’s not a bad break. I’ve put a cast on, and he’ll have to wear a cone so he leaves the cast alone, poor boy. The cone is the worst part for them—it hits them in their dignity.”