Page 9 of Dependable Cowboy

It might not have been so unforgivable had that gate not led out into the road. It was a miracle that no one driving late at night had hit one of the cows and suffered a frightening accident.

And since they escaped from Aaron’s assigned area, he felt almost sure it had to be Brock’s doing. He hated to think that anyone could be so petty as to endanger the lives of other people just to satisfy some ridiculous grievance they might have, but he’d witnessed similar behavior and worse out of the man before.

“Yeah,” Aaron answered by way of confirmation.

“No one hurt?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“It’ll be okay then.”

Only then did he absorb that there was a hush over everyone as they stared at him and Maggie.

“Go on with your tale, Mom,” Pete said, and Aaron cottoned on that he must’ve interrupted something.

“It’s just that I know what Whitney’s going through. Being ordered to lie still when everything inside you is screaming to prepare for that child—or in her case, children—and to get things ready. Josh was a preemie and had to spend time in the NICU, you know.”

Aaron’s head automatically angled toward the same man who’d spoken up for him on Monday. He’d never heard this story.

“Preemies can be so much smaller than their full-term counterparts. Bryce had been almost nine pounds, but Josh was only three pounds three ounces.” Crinkles formed over her upper lip. “Everything about those babies seems so delicate, so breakable. They have to be monitored so carefully all the time. And then there’s the chance that something will go wrong that they can’t fix.” She shakes her head.

“It’s difficult. I pray that Whitney and Sam won’t have to deal with anything more than what they’ve already had to.”

Aaron felt this intense anxiety at the thought of history repeating itself in this family. Whitney had spoken to him about her unstable childhood in foster homes and how she’d never felt safe. She deserved to have her chance at motherhood be a smooth one.

Surreptitiously, he texted his folks under the table after inhaling his tuna on rye. Should’ve done it a few days ago since they live in Billings and could act as go-betweens.

Aaron: Did either of you peek in on Sam and Whitney Duncan while they were in the hospital there? Did anyone let you two know what was going on?

Dad: Of course, she did. You know your mother.

Mom: Took Whitney a lovely spray of irises, roses, and baby’s breath. Wrote on there that it was from everyone in our family. She was very sweet and bursting with gratitude.

Aaron: I’ll transfer some money to cover my share.

Mom: Not necessary. But thanks.

Leave it to his mother to have her finger on the pulse of whoever might need it. She probably had phone trees and other methods for people to reach out to her in such instances. It should’ve been him who’d told her but hadn’t been.

Aaron: You’re the best.

One right after the other, each of his parents sent their texts seconds apart.

Mom: I know.

Dad. We really are.

Aaron snorted at his parents’ joke.

Yet in spite of all the rigamarole of the past few days, his mind returned to the image of a woman and a totally different child. Joy and her daughter. Rocky Ridge was a small town. It was only a matter of time before he’d come nose to nose with Joy again. He wanted to handle it better than he did that first time.

He just didn’t know how.

CHAPTER FIVE

It felt oddlylike relief to have her fingers woven into other people’s tresses again. Wash, rinse. Cut, color, style. Just a little off the top, please. Can you make me look like fill-in-the-blank celebrity? Over and over.

Something about the physical activity mixed with the repetition of it all came so naturally to her that her mind almost went into a meditative state. When the client played on their phone or fell asleep, Joy herself felt at her most Zen.

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