A Cowgirl's Heart Read online

  A cowgirl’s heart

  Barrels and Hearts book 2

  Edith MacKenzie

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  A cowgirl’s passion - sneak peek

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Edith MacKenzie

  About the Author

  Glossary of Aussie Slang

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

  A Cowgirl’s Heart (Barrels & Hearts #2):

  Images © DepositPhotos – vulgarizer & Alan Poulson

  Cover Design © Designed with Grace

  Created with Vellum

  My cowgirl heart was captured long ago by my own cowboy. Love you xx

  Chapter 1

  Deb cautiously sipped the ginger beer, hopeful it would ease the nausea that threatened to storm her oesophagus and purge the contents of her stomach. It was getting beyond a joke. She hadn’t managed to keep a full meal down for days now. At first, she put it down to the dodgy servo hotdog she had eaten, but now she was seriously starting to consider that she might have a medical condition on her hands.

  There was only one thing left for a crook girl to do—consult Doctor Google. Typing in her symptoms, she took another careful sip. So far, so good. Okay, here we go, she thought as her screen filled with results. Anxiety, poor diet and dehydration, lupus, bowel cancer, irritable bowel syndrome. Geeze, she was seriously ill!

  “Are you okay, Deb?” Frankie shifted uneasily in her chair. “You look a little queasy.”

  “Actually, she looks flat out like a lizard drinking,” Megan griped. “When you’re ready, dishes need to be done and it’s your turn.”

  “Why is she giving a lizard a drink?” Gabi scrunched her face up in confusion. “I didn’t even know she had a pet lizard.”

  “It just means she’s not that busy,” Frankie explained. “I’ll do the dishes before I head home. But I’m only doing it because you look awful, Deb. Aren’t you feeling better yet?”

  “I don’t think I ever will, unless I can beat cancer,” Deb muttered under her breath.

  “What?” Frankie raised her chin in question.

  “Never mind. Just talking to myself.”

  Megan perched herself on the arm of the sofa. “Guess who I saw this morning at the feed store?”

  “Don’t care, I’m dying here.” Deb put her phone down as she accepted the inevitability of her prognosis.

  “You’re such a party pooper sometimes, Deb. But I’m going to ignore you.” Megan stuck out her tongue. “I saw Mitch. And that’s not all. I invited him to see the ranch tomorrow.”

  Frankie dried her hands on a towel. “I’m going to leave these dishes to drain and head home. Luciano will be home soon, and I don’t want him getting lonely, if you know what I mean.” Frankie winked smugly at the girls.

  Deb thought she looked disgustingly happy. A wave of nausea forced her to close her eyes as she battled through it. Opening her eyes again once it passed, she locked them squarely with her friend. “Awesome, Megan,” she said sarcastically. “Just awesome. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be sick.”

  The tailgate of the trailer gave a satisfying thump as it settled into place. Deb fumbled for the latch, trying to ignore the queasiness that was always just below the surface these days.

  “We’re only away for a few days this time. But I’ll be flying out to see Luc in Jacksonville, so Gabi will bring the horses back.” Frankie secured her side. Seeing Deb’s pained expression, the look on her face grew concerned. “Are you still feeling crook?”

  “Yeah, just have a really bad tummy bug I can’t seem to shake.”

  “Deb, it’s not normal to feel this lousy for so long. You need to go get yourself checked out,” Frankie instructed firmly, her face stern. “Promise me you’ll go if it gets too bad.”

  “Aye aye, boss,” Deb touched her fingers to the brim of her hat in mocking salute.

  “Is she being a pain again?” Megan said, emerging from the barn.

  “Yes,” the friends both replied simultaneously.

  Megan laughed at her friends’ equally comical expressions as each looked at each other accusingly. “I actually meant you, Deb.” Her eyes hardened as they glared at Deb. “Just go to the doctors already. The sooner you get better, the sooner I won’t have to cover you for around the ranch.”

  “Geeze, if it will get everyone off my case, I’ll think about it.” Deb scuffed her boot in the dirt like a child who had just been told they had to go to the dentist.

  Frankie rolled her eyes, looking skyward as if seeking divine guidance. Finding none, she shook her head, clearly not willing to admit defeat. “Megan, if she changes her mind, can you please make her?” Exasperation laced her voice.

  “I’m not a child,” Deb protested.

  “Then don’t act like one,” Gabi commented, stowing her gear bag into the back of the truck.

  Deb screwed up her face and crossed her eyes at her. Frankie threw her hands up in defeat. “I give up. Die then. Just do it quietly.”

  “And preferably after you’ve helped with the horses so I don’t get stuck with all the work. Again,” Megan added sourly.

  “Well, that’s our cue to hit the road. Any problems, give us a call or get Papai to sort it,” Gabi instructed. “Is the new farrier coming out today?”

  “That’s right, Mitch is coming today, isn’t he?” Frankie said.

  “Haven’t you noticed how good a mood Megan is in?” Deb said sarcastically. Given the fact that her friend was notorious for being territorial where Mitch was concerned, she was not looking forward to the visit. It was a bit odd since, out of all of them, Deb had known him the longest and therefore should be the most possessive of his time. Guess she just didn’t roll like that.

  “Say ‘hello’ for me, and I’ll catch up with him next time.” Frankie settled herself in the car.

  “Will do.” In a flash, Megan’s mood switched, and she swatted Deb playfully on the bum. “Now, get to work.”

  Deb watched in amusement as Megan bolted into the bathroom in a fresh change of clothes. Deciding she should probably check her own cleanliness, she lifted her arm and gave her pit a quick sniff. The rank smell of musty body odor assailed her nostrils, her nose wrinkling in protest. Maybe a quick dose of deodorant wouldn’t be out of place, she mused. While she was at it, she should probably brush her teeth. Frequent reflux had left her mouth tasting like a small animal had crawled inside and died, not to mention the residual fuzzy feeling on her teeth. At the least, she should definitely be chewing some gum. Thankfully, the nausea had settled down as she worked, the fresh air lifting her spirits.

  After cleaning herself up, she left Megan to her last-minute grooming and headed down to Sampson’s stall. Being a young and inquisitive creature as Frankie so generously described him, his latest trick was to flip his feed bucket around his stall, flinging his feed about in the process. Well, Deb had finally had enough. She was going to fix his wagon and install a feeder mounted to the stall wall. If she could successfully complete the project, she would begin impl
ementing them to the other stalls and hopefully cut down on feed wastage. Gabi would certainly be pleased. In her mind’s eye, Deb could see her friend’s rapt expression as she fastidiously entered the savings into her spreadsheets.

  Finding her cordless drill and some screws, she sat down on an upturned bucket as she read the instructions on the box. A wave of nausea washed over her, clogging her throat. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tried to breathe deeply, praying it would pass. Her stomach began to clench, painfully giving notice that evacuation of its contents was imminent. Stumbling to her feet, she clasped her hand tightly to her mouth. Desperately seeking the bathroom, she bolted blindly toward the bunkhouse. The acid clawed at her throat. She tried to force down the bile, but it was too late. Losing the battle at the base of the stairs, coughing and choking, she heaved her breakfast up in a great splashing geyser. Her stomach kept contracting, violently forcing everything up and out.

  “What the bloody heck, Deb?” exclaimed Megan, appalled at the spectacle laid out before her.

  Her face white and dripping bile, sweat, and tears, Deb miserably opened her eyes, suddenly aware that Mitch had just been about to step off the stairs. To her horror, his perfectly polished boots were now sporting a splatter design, collateral damage to her projectile vomit.

  Face blanched, she forced herself to raise her eyes. “Hey Mitch, long time.”

  Mitch looked down at his boots. “I’d like to be able to say that’s the first bloody time that’s ever happened to me.” He gave a wry smile. “But I reckon I can’t. You feeling all right, Deb?”

  Feeling the warning burn in her throat again, Deb pushed past Megan and Mitch and scrambled to the safety of the bathroom. She heard Megan’s outraged ‘Excuse you’, and lurched forward, sinking to her knees on the cold bathroom tiles beside the toilet, and vomited until only clear liquid remained. The pungent stench invaded her nostrils and she heaved even though there was nothing left.

  She curled up in the fetal position, the chill of the hard floor a soothing balm to her fevered cheek where it made contact. Hot tears spilled from her eyes leaving long, wet trails across her face, dripping relentlessly onto the smooth tile. Deb closed her eyes and gave into the bottomless misery that engulfed her, unable to fight its pull any longer.

  Chapter 2

  She would be brave, Deb decided as she flicked through the out-of-date magazine, stoic in her acceptance of whatever disease the doctor diagnosed her with. A toddler, screaming like a banshee, picked up a toy telephone and proceeded to use it as a makeshift shank to attack her mother’s knee.

  “Now, honey, Mommy doesn’t like that.” The under-attack parent attempted to placate the terrible creature. Deb was impressed with the woman’s restraint, if not her parenting skills, as undeterred said honey doubled down on its violence.

  “Deborah Burke?”

  Deb quickly put her magazine down and followed the expectantly waiting doctor into the calm of his examination room. Looking toward the computer screen, the doctor pulled up her records before turning enquiring eyes at her. “What seems to be the problem today?”

  “I haven’t been very well lately, um, Doctor…” She scanned his name badge. “Fahdge? Ah, am I pronouncing that right?”

  “Yes, as in fudge,” he responded with a long-suffering expression. “You have no idea how much fun they had with that at Medical School.”

  “I can imagine. It’s sweet, makes me all gooey and, at the same time, want caramel.”

  “Are you done?” the good doctor asked patiently.

  “For now. But I reserve the right to continue this line of conversation at any time during this appointment. Especially if I get bad news.”

  A faint smile ghosted Dr Fahdge’s lips. “Of course. Now, can you be more specific about your ailments?”

  “I feel like I want to chuck up all of the time. Bloody real crook, you know? First, I thought it was from a dodgy servo hot dog, but it lasted way longer than that. I’m bloody tired all of the time. I mean, I work on a ranch with horses, I’m always kinda tired. But this is next level. By the arvo, I’m rooted, and just want to put on my tracky dacks and veg.” Pursing her lips, she paused, mentally ticking off her symptoms. “Oh, and I need to pee a lot. But that could be because I’m drinking a lot more to get rid of the metallic taste that’s always in my mouth. I haven’t felt like that since I tested a 9-volt battery on my tongue.”

  Doctor Fahdge’s expression was somewhat dazed by the time her diatribe ceased. Blinking a couple of times, he cleared his throat. “To be clear, you are experiencing nausea, fatigue, a more frequent need to urinate, and a metallic taste in your mouth?”

  Deb nodded sharply. “Yep, that’s what I just bloody said.” She shuffled a little in her chair. “So, how serious is it?”

  “I will need to ask a few more questions. I always like to remove the possibility of minor reasons first. When did you last have your period?”

  “Ages ago, like, years. I have hyperthyroidism, so…” She trailed off, giving a dismissive shrug.

  “Is there a possibility that you might be pregnant?”

  Deb laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “You’d have to have sex for that!” A thought snaked its way into her consciousness, leaving a cold trail of dread in its wake. “Oh, wait, there was this one time recently.”

  “I’ve heard that’s all it takes.” A hint of humor snuck past Dr Fahdge’s professional façade. “Would you like me to get a test for you to check?” The doctor asked gently, clearly taking in her bemused state. “It’s the same as the store-bought ones. Urinate on it, and in a few minutes, it will give a result.” At her little nod of acknowledgement, he reached into his drawer for a kit. “Depending on this, I will order more tests to confirm. The bathroom is down the hall on the right. Once you are done, can you please give the result to a nurse and she will book you in for another appointment.”

  The two thin lines leapt off the kit, the starkness of the indigo contrasting sharply against the white background. The rest of the world faded to nonexistence, and Deb’s hand began to tremble at the proof she held within her grasp, her mind struggling to fathom what her eyes saw. A hysterical giggle bubbled up at the absurdity of her situation. Trust me to get a faulty kit. She giggled to herself in denial. Sitting in the doctor surgery’s cold, lonely bathroom, the harsh reality of the situation hit home. Her tears of mirth turned to those of uncertainty and fear.

  Holy crap, what do I do now?

  It was a small blessing to find Megan gone when she returned to the bunkhouse. Emotionally drained, Deb had only enough strength remaining to climb into bed and pull the covers under her chin. Old memories tugged her back to her childhood where, once again, she was little and scared of the vastness of the dark. Her mum used to tuck her into a cozy nest of covers and pillows, the whisper of her lips on her forehead as she kissed her goodnight. The shadows would dissolve into normal nighttime darkness, and she would drift off to sleep, certain in the knowledge that in the morning, all would be well with the world. That she was safe. Gosh, how she longed for it all to be so simple now. Silent tears tracked down her cheeks as her misery spilled from her.

  The forlorn silence of the room was broken by the harsh beep of her phone. Fumbling to pick it up she saw an unfamiliar number illuminated on the screen.

  Hey, It’s Mitch. Megan gave me your number. You okay?

  She rubbed her eyes, suddenly no longer feeling alone. At a loss to how on earth she could respond to a message like that, she threw her phone back on her bedside table. She flopped onto her back to stare at the ceiling, wondering if she was ever going to be okay again.

  Chapter 3

  The next few days rolled by with Deb manically attempting to keep herself busy. It marginally helped that, since her doctor’s appointment, it was as if a magical switch had been flicked, vanquishing her nausea to the dim realm of memory. Her brain overloaded and unable to process the concept of being pregnant, she safely tucked the information far awa
y in her mind lest the feeling of terrified helplessness overwhelmed her completely. Flying under the radar had proven to be surprisingly easy. With Frankie and Gabi away as usual and Megan caught up with Mitch being back on the scene, none were the wiser about her little doctor’s appointment.

  Exhaustion rolled over her like a thick fog. Giving into the lassitude, she leaned on the stable fork, resting her chin on top as she closed her eyes.

  “Oh, hi, Mitch.” Megan’s voice drifted from further up the barn. Deb imagined Megan flicking her hair back as she spoke. “What can I do for you?”

  “Hey, Megan. Is Deb around?”

  The silence was deafening. “Deb?”

  “Yeah, I sent her a message the other night to see if she was okay and I haven’t heard back. Thought I’d better check in on her and make sure she hasn’t carked it yet.”

  “I can confirm she is still alive, so you can stop worrying about her.” A sharp edge cut through Megan’s voice like razor blades. “How did your boots clean up, by the way?”

  Deb peeked out from the stall to guiltily gauge his reaction. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he responded, giving Megan a wary look. “Is there something I’m missing here?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “You seem a little mad at me,” he said tentatively.

  “Mad?” Megan laughed—a little too brightly to Deb’s ear. “No,” she said dismissively, waving his suggestion away. “But if you’re worried about it, you can always buy me dinner.” She smiled coyly up at him.