A Conard County Baby

“She probably is. Cattle have more brains than most folks credit them. Did you see Angie again?”

“We talked briefly.”

“And?”

“There might be a chance for rapport. It’s too soon to tell.”

He flashed a small smile. “I’ll take that as a good sign. Come on, you need to get inside. I can see you’re shivering.”

For the first time she realized she was. Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked with him toward the back of the house. “So do you give cows treats like horses?”

“Some fresh alfalfa or corn makes ’em happy. But no sugar and stuff like that.” He gave a piercing whistle without warning and Hope’s ears winced.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Calling the dogs. It’s feeding time.”

For an instant, she was almost overwhelmed as six dogs came racing from every direction, tongues lolling, feet pounding the ground. From behind her, a cow mooed loudly. For just an instant, she felt a flash of fear. What if they bit her?

But then Cash gave another whistle and they fell in behind him like a troop of orderly soldiers.

“They’re well behaved,” she couldn’t help saying.

“They’re working dogs. No nonsense. But yes, you can pet them.”

At that a laugh escaped her. She felt so good right now that she wished this moment would never end. She was in a new place with so much to learn, with a challenging girl to deal with and a job.

And with Cash. Astonished, she almost missed a step. After Scott, she had thought she would never again feel attracted to any man. They couldn’t be trusted. But something about this man said differently.

She hoped she wasn’t developing delusions. And to save herself from that train of thought, she hopped to another track. “I think Angie would like me to take her riding.”

“Be my guest. I’ve got some good mounts in the barn, one gentle enough for her. One challenging enough for you, among others.”

“What makes you think I need a challenge?” She looked up at him and found him smiling beneath the brim of his hat.

“Background research. Dressage, huh?”

“Well, yes, but that was a while ago, and I’m pregnant now. How about you suggest a mare so old and gentle she wouldn’t think about bucking me off.”

He was still chuckling when they reached the house and he began filling a row of stainless-steel bowls with kibble for the dogs. Nearby was a huge tub of water.

“Can they come inside?” she asked.

“Sometimes. Generally I wait until they’re getting old and creaky before I make a habit of it. I figure they’re entitled to lie by a warm fire when they retire. Most of these guys are pretty young, though.”

“Don’t want to spoil them?”

“I don’t think I could. They love working. But they’re also dusty, dirty and full of grass and other things. Not exactly fit for the house.”

“Do you groom them?”

He laughed. “Of course. Much good it does, though. But yeah, I don’t leave them covered with burrs, ticks or fleas. I take good care of ’em, I just can’t keep them clean unless I keep them inside, and that’s not going to happen. Unless you’ve seen a dog flop on your couch and a cloud of dust arise from its coat, you can’t imagine.”

She supposed she couldn’t. The only dogs in her life had been her mother’s cherished Yorkies, who never went outside, and the dogs at the horse stables.

Inside, he announced that he was going up to shower. Before he vanished, however, he pulled three serving-size glass dishes from the freezer and popped them in the oven.

“Lasagna for dinner in about an hour,” he said, then headed upstairs.

Left at loose ends again, Hope helped herself to more tea. When she turned from the counter, mug in hand, she was startled to see Angie, who looked angry. The girl’s tone was sharp.

“You’re spying on me for him!”

Startled, all Hope could answer was, “No.”

“Yes, you are. I saw you out there talking to him. What did you do? Tell him everything I said to you?”

“The only thing I said about you was that you and I wanted to go riding.” Hope felt a spark of anger of her own. “He said he’d show me the horses in the morning so we could. Then we talked about the dogs. Am I going to have to report on every conversation we have to you? Because if so, life isn’t going to be pleasant for either of us. I don’t spy on anyone.”

With that, tea in hand, she marched past Angie and went to sit in the living room. Almost as soon as her bottom met the seat, she regretted her anger. This was not a good start.

But to her surprise, Angie followed her a minute later. “Those are designer jeans,” she said. “You don’t belong here.”

“We’ll see.”

“Are you some kind of rich bitch?”

The word shocked Hope and she hoped she managed to hide her reaction. This girl was trying to push her buttons, and she couldn’t allow it or she’d be done here in a few days. “Not anymore,” she said flatly.

“What happened?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you someday, when I learn I can trust you.”

Hope thought she glimpsed a tiny bit of uncertainty behind Angie’s angry expression, but it vanished quickly. She received another angry glare, then listened as the girl pounded back up the stairs to her bedroom.

This was not going well. She felt a wave of near despair along with drowning fatigue. She reminded herself not to expect much. After all, she’d only been here a few hours. And the fatigue itself was to be expected. Not Angie’s fault, but the fault of a long, stress-filled day.

Resting her hand over her stomach, she allowed her eyes to close. A little nap might help, she thought, letting her head fall backward against the sofa. She’d get through this somehow because she had to. There was absolutely no other option. Not yet.

Scott’s face swam before her eyes, filling her with a rush of adrenaline and fury. No. Not him. He was gone for good. Don’t think about him.

At last exhaustion released her.

* * *

When she awoke, she had a crick in her neck. She twisted it immediately, trying to ease it, then saw the room was dimly lit by a single lamp. Opening her eyes wider, she found Cash at the other end of the room in a green plaid-covered armchair, reading a magazine. He appeared absorbed. Several matching armchairs dotted the room, looking weary and worn. The sofa on which she had dozed was also green, but plain and a bit lumpy. No Angie in sight. She knew a moment’s shame at how much relief she felt. That girl was a handful, and she could only feel sympathy for her father. She understood that Angie had been through a terrible experience, but she seemed determined to push everyone away.

When she shifted some more, Cash looked up from his magazine. “Hungry? Your lasagna is still warm in the oven.”

“Thanks. I’ll get it.”

“Nah. It’s no problem. I’ll bring it out here and put it on a TV tray. You like salad? We’ve got tossed greens and some Caesar dressing.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Her mouth started watering before she even got all the sleep out of her eyes. For the first time she realized she had eaten very little that day. A hearty meal would probably make her feel a whole lot better about everything.

She felt marginally more awake by the time Cash returned with her meal and a beverage. “Thank you so much, but you really don’t need to wait on me.”

“You just woke up. It’s okay.”

Then he returned to his chair and resumed reading while she ate. As famished as she suddenly realized she was, she was glad he didn’t try to converse or keep her company. What looked like a large serving of lasagna disappeared rapidly, along with the salad. By the time she finished, she felt more than full, yet it wasn’t long before her spirits and energy began reviving.

“I needed that,” she remarked.

He looked up and smiled. “I saw how little you ate all day. You didn’t even finish Maude’s pie. I guess I’ll hear about that next time I’m in.”

“Did I insult her?”

“Probably, but it’s easy to insult Maude. She’ll get over it as long as you don’t make a practice of it.”

“I doubt I’ll go there very often.” She needed to save every penny from this job. She lifted the table, moving it back, and started to reach for her dishes.

“I’ll help.”

She glanced at Cash and caught her breath. She recognized a look of pure male appreciation when she saw it. She’d seen it often enough. Instead of feeling flattered, however, this time she felt as if little ice crystals grew inside her. Never again. No man would ever have his way with her again. As far as she was concerned, it was just fine if no man ever touched her again. Touches were lies and then they could be followed by demands that turned violent. As with Scott, who simply refused to accept her decision to wait for their marriage. The ugly names he had called her remained branded on her heart, and the memory of his greater strength, the way he had subdued her against her wishes and then violated her... No, never again.

“Did I say something wrong?”

She came back to the present with a start. Cash now stood only a few feet away, his hand extended as if about to lift her plate. “No...no. Just a...memory.”

“Not a good one.” But he didn’t pursue it. Instead, he helped with the dishes, showing her the dishwasher and then giving her a five-cent tour of the kitchen so she could find anything she was likely to need.

As soon as he finished, though, she pled fatigue. “I’m really tired. Do you mind if I go up now? Once I catch up on some sleep, I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing a bit. As she started to walk out toward the stairs, his voice stopped her. “Have you seen a doctor? About the baby, I mean?”

She froze, her back to him. “Not yet.”

“I think it’s high time. Don’t tell me you can’t afford it. I’ll see to it.”

She kept walking, unsure whether she felt annoyed by his presumption or simply glad that someone cared enough to help. She’d needed to see a doctor for months now, but it hadn’t been allowed. Her family didn’t want this baby unless she married Scott, and if she went to any doctor it would be for a discreet abortion. To see a local obstetrician might set tongues wagging.

She’d tried to escape long enough to see a doctor. She hadn’t managed, not with all the eyes ordered to watch her every minute. She couldn’t get out the door without a keeper.

Hand over her stomach, she mounted the stairs, still astonished by the rabbit hole one man had shoved her into. No proper prenatal care. No one to believe her story except a stranger in Wyoming. Her entire family had turned on her and had treated her worse than they would have treated a prized racehorse that might be off the circuit because she had come unexpectedly into foal.

Oh, she didn’t miss the parallels. From birth she had been groomed for one thing. Maybe the saddest thing of all was that she had been naive enough to believe they loved her. Instead, brutally, she had learned that she was simply a chip on the poker table of life.

Cash had been right. The whole thing had been medieval.

When she entered her room and closed the door, ready to sink onto a soft bed with a book, she froze. Even though she’d been in here only briefly today, she felt something had changed.

Looking around, she couldn’t imagine why she felt that way. Did the air smell different? How would she know, as little time as she’d spent in here?

She turned on all the lights, looking more closely, then saw that the closet door stood open just a tiny bit. At once she went over and opened it. One look told her everything. Her suitcases were not as she had left them. Someone had been looking through her luggage.

Angie.

She sat on the edge of the bed and stared into the closet, wondering how to handle this. Most of the cases were locked, and unless the girl was a wizard who could guess combinations, she probably hadn’t been able to get into them.

An almost laugh escaped her when she thought of how that must have frustrated the girl. But the issue was bigger than that and she knew it. Angie had no business trying to get into her bags. It was an invasion of privacy, supremely rude and possibly indicated an intent to steal something. She decided, however, that unless there was some other action on Angie’s part, she should just ignore it. Making an accusation might only ruin any possibility of getting through to her.

Standing, she unfastened her jeans and sighed with relief as they loosened, but this time she didn’t think about how much she needed to get some maternity clothes. Her mind was firmly fixed on Angie, and she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, looking for any key to the lock around Angie’s heart.

She didn’t know the girl well yet, but she’d picked up on a few things. Maybe riding with her tomorrow would help loosen the steel bands Angie insisted on wrapping around herself. Or maybe not.

The truth was, Hope felt even more at sea now than she had this morning. More unanswered questions faced her than before.

But she made up her mind that she wasn’t going to give up on Angie, no matter how hard it was.

Because, frankly, she could see herself in that young woman. The self that was angry, bitter, hurting, betrayed and all the rest of it. She just didn’t make a show of it.

Angie was crying out for help in all the wrong ways.

Maybe.

* * *

Downstairs, Cash poured himself a bourbon and carried it into his office. He sat staring at the darkened computer screen, knowing he should take care of some business, but his mind was unwilling. He had too much else to think about.

There was Angie, of course. There was always Angie. His daughter was a puzzle within a puzzle, and he couldn’t see the first chink or move to make. His repertoire of fatherly actions was limited, no question. He had no real experience to guide him, and the years lost between them weren’t helping.

But he’d been struck by Hope’s comment about Angie being angry because her mother should have been saved. He hadn’t considered that before at all. To him, the loss of life for someone so young was the same, no matter the means. But Hope had cast it in a different light, and he would have bet that she was right. Sick people were supposed to get well unless it was something like cancer, and how much more true that must seem for someone Angie’s age. The idea that an infection could kill someone so swiftly must be beyond her ability to believe.

Then there was Hope herself, who had until recently led a charmed life it seemed. Now she was cast alone, friendless and penniless on the waters of a world she knew nothing about. When he thought about the fact that she hadn’t yet seen a doctor about her pregnancy, anger burned in the pit of his stomach. He simply couldn’t imagine people who thought the way her family evidently did. No care for the child, no real care for Hope, who was their daughter. More concern for a guy who might be a senator one day, a guy who wasn’t even family.

Twisted. Very twisted.

He rolled the glass slowly between his hands, warming the bourbon and thinking about his newest employee. Maybe she would work out, maybe she wouldn’t. He certainly wouldn’t hold her accountable if she couldn’t get through to Angie. Hell, he’d been trying for months now.

But he could ensure she had a place to stay until this baby came, and that she received decent care. That seemed the least he could do.

She was an awfully attractive woman. It was hard to look at her without noticing her appeal. Given her past, though, he put a big mental off-limits sign on her. No way could life on a ranch hold her long-term, and more importantly, she’d been raped. It’d be a long time before she’d be inclined to see men as anything but a threat. Couldn’t blame her for that.

Although he had to give her credit for the way she had handled this day. She’d accepted a job from a strange man and had come home with him. She must be desperate beyond belief to cross those hurdles as bravely as she had. “Single father” in that ad should have been enough to make her skip even calling.

The fact that she had gathered her courage to call him told him plenty. Hope Conroy was at the end of her rope to the point that she was willing to take a huge risk.

Desperate enough that maybe she hadn’t even evaluated the risks he might pose. More frightened for herself and her baby than anything else.

Understanding drove through him like a spike. He supposed that made her tougher than a lot of people. Surprising, given her life until recently. Or maybe he didn’t really understand that, either. Regardless, she had a lot of backbone. Or maybe she was past thinking clearly about some things.

Either way, a decent man owed her some protection. That much he could do.

Tomorrow was another day, he reminded himself, sipping his whiskey. He needed to wrap up a few things before they got out of hand, then head up to bed. It was the time of year when 5 a.m. seemed to come awfully early.

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