A Cowgirl's Heart Page 2

  “Sure, let’s get Deb and grab something to eat,” he suggested, giving Megan a direct look.

  Megan looked hurt. “Deb might not want to go.”

  “Why don’t we ask her?” he countered.

  Deb stood rooted to the spot, her eyes frantically searching for an escape.

  “Deb, do you want to go to dinner with Mitch and I?”

  Knowing the gig was up, she gave a soft little sigh before poking her head fully out of the stall. “I might pass tonight. I’m feeling a bit knackered.”

  “That’s okay. I can take a raincheck until you feel better,” he said, oblivious to the frozen smile on Megan’s face. “Are you feeling better? You look better than last time.”

  Surprised the man was still standing given the daggers Megan was shooting his way, Deb stepped from the stall. “I haven’t vomited for days.”

  “My boots are bloody relieved,” he said, giving her a wink. “Well, I’d better leave you girls to it. I’m glad you’re not crook anymore.”

  Deb stood awkwardly, watching as Megan said goodbye. Once he had left, Megan held up her hand to halt whatever she thought Deb was going to say. “I don’t want to hear it,” she said icily and marched off to the bunkhouse. Deb heaved a sigh. Great.

  Ironically, although Frankie had flown to spend a few days with Luciano, by the time Gabi drove the horses home, they both arrived a few hours apart. Deb didn’t care who got home first. She was just eternally grateful to have someone to break up the constant onslaught of dirty looks she was on the receiving end of. She tried to talk rationally with Megan, that her and Mitch had been friends since they were in kindy, but it did nothing to soften her demeanor. If only she knew just how little chasing a man factored on her radar right now.

  Deb was lucid enough to know she would eventually have to tackle the pregnancy and figure out a game plan. But for now, she was doing her best to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. If she stood still too long, a suffocating fear threatened to smother her. She felt better if she continued to be her usual capable self, even if it was now only a brittle façade in danger of splintering.

  Frankie appeared refreshed, her eyes sparkling vibrantly as she strode into the barn, blonde ponytail bouncing with each step. It was through a supreme effort of self-control that Deb didn’t throw a ball of horse manure at her. Frankie, unaware of how close she was to suffering a poo-castrophe, breezily waltzed over to Deb.

  “Hey, you look better.”

  Remorse for her earlier unkind thoughts made her shuffle her feet. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Megan said you went to the doctors. But only after you vomited all over poor Mitch’s boots.” Frankie laughed delightedly at the image. “I miss out on all of the good stuff.”

  “Yeah, well Megan can talk about poor Mitch,” Deb muttered sourly, resentment at her friend’s unfair treatment making her hackles raise.

  “I wish I’d been here to see Mitch’s face.” Gabi chortled, both girls still not picking up on Deb’s hostility.

  Embarrassed tears filled Deb’s eyes, catching her by surprise. She dashed them away angrily, ducking her head to hide the movement. Frankie’s eyes opened wide in horror. “Oh, crap. Are you crying, Deb?”

  Gabi looked remorseful. “I’m sorry, I was only teasing.”

  Frankie hugged Deb. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Are you really okay?”

  Deb sniffled, suspecting she may have overreacted to their banter. “It’s just that Megan’s been a real cow about the Mitch thing ever since it happened.”

  “How about we go upstairs and get a cup of coffee? You can tell us all about it.” Frankie started to lead her friend toward the bunkhouse stairs.

  Deb followed meekly, feeling guilty about her earlier mutinous thoughts toward her happy friend. Her emotions sure were giving her one bloody heck of a ride lately. Gabi put the kettle on, and Frankie got the mugs out of the overhead cupboard. Deb awkwardly washed her hands in an attempt to distract herself from her thoughts. Giving up, she flopped down.

  “No coffee for me, thanks. I’ll just have an OJ,” Deb said softly from the kitchen table. Frankie, reaching for a mug, paused mid-stretch and shot Gabi a mystified look. Both girls turned to give Deb their full attention.

  “Okay, what’s really going on? Who are you, and what have you done with Deb?” Frankie demanded.

  “Very funny,” Deb said. “I just don’t feel like coffee.” She folded her arms defensively across her chest.

  Frankie walked slowly to the table, her gaze steady. “I’ve known you for a long time, Deb. Most days, you have more coffee in your blood system than blood.” Frankie slumped into the chair. “You’re dying, aren’t you?” she wailed.

  “You should have told us,” accused Gabi as she began to cry, too. “We would have come back as soon as we found out.”

  “Should you even be out of bed?” Not waiting for a reply, Frankie stood abruptly. “You should be in bed.”

  “I’ll call your doctors. I need to understand your treatment schedule so I can take care of the appointments,” Gabi said, appearing to take comfort from taking charge of the situation.

  Pure love for her friends filled Deb to her very core and her throat tightened as unshed tears burned her eyes. “I’m not dying, guys.”

  Frankie collapsed back on her chair with a thump. “Then what is it? And don’t tell me nothing, there is obviously something going on.”

  Deb looked down at her hands as her fingers knotted themselves together. “I, um…” She cleared her throat. “It appears I’m pregnant.”

  The complete absence of sound was deafening as stunned silence filled the room. Her friends’ reactions verged on comical. Gabi blinked rapidly several times while Frankie opened and closed her mouth, robbed of speech. Finally, gathering her scattered wits, Frankie swallowed loudly.

  “Say what?”

  “I’m pregnant.” Deb was amazed at how calm her voice sounded. Inside, she was a quivering mess.

  “Gosh. I mean, how? I mean, I know how, but you know what I mean,” Frankie spluttered.

  Deb’s face grew serious. “Well Frankie, when a man and a woman love each other very much... Honestly, I’m surprised Luciano hasn’t explained it to you by now.”

  Comprehension blossomed on Gabi’s face, her eyes as wide as saucers. “It was the night we went to the bar.” She turned to Frankie. “When you were broken up with Luciano.” She turned back to Deb. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Deb was saved from having to answer. “What’s going on?” Megan asked, stamping through the door.

  “Get your butt in here and stop being mean to Deb,” Frankie commanded in a voice that brooked no disobedience. She pointed to a vacant chair.

  Megan had the grace to look sheepish. “Yeah, well.”

  “Let it go, Megan,” Frankie warned. “Deb needs us right now.”

  Looking at the myriad of expressions around the table, Megan grudgingly sat down. “Okay, bring me up to speed.”

  Frankie looked toward Deb for permission. At her nod, she continued. “Deb’s pregnant. It was from the night at the bar and we are all about to find out the name of the father.” She turned back to Deb, waiting expectantly, her hands clasped in front of her in anticipation.

  “Tucker Brown.” Blank stares greeted her announcement. Frankie glanced at Megan with furrowed brows. Megan shrugged.

  “How do we contact this Tucker Brown?” Gabi asked.

  “I don’t really have any contacts for him,” Deb murmured softly, shame painting her cheeks crimson. “It’s not like I was planning on seeing him ever again.” Miserable tears flowed down her face, no longer able to hide from the reality of her situation.

  Her friends shot each other horrified looks around the table, Frankie jumped up and wrapped her arms fiercely around Deb. “I’m sure we can figure it out. You’re not going to do this alone, you hear me? You have us.”

  Megan shuffled over and joined them. “Sorry fo
r being such a troll, but you know I love you. Thank God the kid is going to have Auntie Megan to show it how to be cool.”

  Gabi was the only one not in on the hugfest, busily tapping away on her phone. “Give me an hour and I’ll find him, Deb,” she promised.

  “Found him!” Gabi crowed triumphantly, waving her phone about in the air.

  The girls scampered over, eager to see the father-to-be. All except Deb. Her feet were suddenly pure lead, immovable lumps of flesh held fast to the floor. It was as if she watched it all transpire from afar. Frankie looking down at the phone, a look of abject horror crossing her pinched features as she looked up.

  “Please tell me this isn’t him,” she said.

  Gabi and Megan looked between the two of them in confusion. Gabi’s brows drew together as she shrugged. “This might not be him. I need Deb to check first.” She gave Frankie a piercing look. “What on earth is the matter with you Frankie?” she asked in exasperation. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

  “I’d be so lucky for him to be a ghost and not still breathing,” Frankie muttered disgustedly.

  “Okay, can someone tell me what’s going on?” asked a wide-eyed Megan. “I thought this was about Deb. But somehow this is now about Frankie. I’m confused.”

  “You and me both,” said Deb, finally rising from her stupor to stride over and snatch the phone from Frankie’s hand. “Yep, that’s him.” Hands planted on her hips, she glared suspiciously at Frankie. “What’s the bloody big deal?”

  Frankie wrung her hands together. “You’re sure that’s him? Like, really, really sure? I mean you could be confused, and he just kinda looks like the father?” She wrinkled her nose, “Please tell me he’s not the father.”

  Deb looked back down at the picture on the screen. The hair was the exact same shade of blond, the lip curl like she remembered. “I know I had a fair bit to drink that night, but I’m telling you that’s bloody him.” She handed the phone back. “Now, spill.”

  Fingers still tightly entwined, Frankie refused to accept the phone, she wet her lips nervously. “That’s the arse-grabbing bronc rider. You know, the one Luciano beat the snot out of?”

  “Strewth,” muttered Megan.

  “Strewth all right. Have another look,” Gabi commanded, pushing Deb’s hand with the phone back up to her face.

  Deb shrugged her off and crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. “I don’t need to. That’s bloody him.”

  Frankie swallowed hard. “Okay then. What do you want to do next?”

  Deb glanced down at her hands, still warm from the heat of the phone. “Honestly? Go into my room and pretend none of this is happening.”

  Frankie covered Deb’s hand with her own and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. “Honey, I can’t even begin to say I know how you’re feeling right now. But no matter what, we’re all here for you. You do what you need to do, and we’ll support you in your decision.”

  Deb looked around at the loving, supportive faces of her friends. “I guess I need to put my big girl pants on and tell him.” Frankie smiled at her gently as she gave Deb’s hand another squeeze. Wordlessly, Deb stood, a wan smile on her face, and strode toward her bedroom.

  It was only when she had safely closed the door on her friends that she allowed her shoulders to slump, no longer able to carry the weight of her forced bravado. She retrieved her phone and punched his name into the search bar. Sure enough, his face appeared. She tapped the message icon, her breath accelerating as black spots danced before her eyes. Trying to subdue the anxiety that threatened to gain control, she buried her face in her hands and attempted to breathe. How the bloody heck had she gotten into this mess?

  She gave a final sniff as she straightened, typing determinedly. Afraid her courage would desert her, she quickly pressed send. Drained, and the last of her resolve ebbing away, she flopped back on her bed and cried.

  Chapter 4

  The two new broodmares flicked their heads as they frolicked in the quarantine paddock. Having arrived that morning, they were still unsettled, nervous tension evident in each gesture as they performed their delicate dance to gauge the other’s dominance. A lifetime of being around horses, and their raw power and majesty still entranced Deb. She watched, envious of the spirited freedom they displayed. Their joyous liberty only served to heighten her sense of being wretchedly trapped. Heaving a sigh, she took one last covetous glance at the playful mares and pushed herself off the fence rail.

  Breaking an earlier promise to herself, she pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans and looked at the message.

  Don’t remember you. I go through lots of girls. Your problem, not mine. Keep it. Get rid of it. Don’t care.

  Deb’s eyes burned with humiliation, the hurt of being dismissed as easily as one would throw away trash stung.

  “Deb, the mares look to be in fine form today. Gabriella will be happy to see them settled in so well when she gets home tomorrow,” called Senhor Eduardo as he strode purposely toward her.

  Quickly, she rubbed the tears from her eyes. “They will be happy here,” she agreed.

  He looked closely at her face, clearly noting her red eyes, and his face crinkled with concern. “Are you all right? You are not hurt?”

  Deb gave a little sniff. How did she answer that? Right now, there seemed to be no end to the tormenting gloom that hovered over her. “I’m, um, yeah. Getting there, I guess.” And then she cried. Senhor Eduardo took one alarmed look at her and pulled her into a rough hug.

  “I don’t know what is the matter, but Sra Ana always makes things better with some coffee. Let’s find her.”

  Deb, embarrassed at crying in front of him, gave a little nod as he gently escorted her to the main house.

  “Ana,” he called as he approached. Sra Ana took one look at the distraught girl’s face and bustled her husband into the house with firm instructions to bring back a pot of coffee and some fresh cookies. She took Deb’s hand and guided her to one of the porch chairs.

  “Would you like to talk about it?” she asked kindly.

  “I guess. Everyone will know soon enough.” She paused, remorse filling her at her ungrateful tone. “I’m sorry, Sra Ana. I’ve just had a lot on my mind. I don’t even know where to bloody begin.” Sra Ana gave her an encouraging smile. “I guess I will just say it. I’m pregnant.” Senhor Eduardo, who had just stepped out on the porch, put the pot down with a clatter. Sra Ana’s mouth was open in shock. “I understand if you don’t want me to stay here anymore, now that I’m pregnant. I just need a bit of time to find a new place and—” The tears burst through her determined wall to contain them and spilled freely down her face. “And I’m sorry for crying. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, and I never cry. I’m the one that’s capable. Frankie’s the crier,” she wailed.

  Sra Ana gently seated herself on the armrest of Deb’s chair and wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl. “Ah, child, you misunderstand me. I am shocked, yes. But never would I—we—turn you out,” she said, looking over Deb’s head to Senhor Eduardo for agreement.

  He nodded. “Your home is here with us, and so is the baby’s. I look forward to being an avo, a grandfather.”

  “Gabriella does not look like she will give me one anytime soon. I cannot wait to meet my adoptive grandbaby,” Sra Ana said, her eyes misty.

  “The father, does he know?” Senhor Eduardo asked gently.

  Deb looked down at her hands in embarrassment. “He does. And he doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

  “Then that is his loss,” Senhor Eduardo said fiercely. “This baby will want for nothing.”

  Deb looked at the Brazilian couple in gratitude, humbled by their support. Those dang tears threatened once again. “Thank you.”

  “Now, what have you been eating?” Sra demanded, suddenly all business. Deb smiled through her tears at the similarity in manner with her no-nonsense daughter.

  The steady clip clop of horses’ hooves hitting the packed earth ke
pt steady time with Deb’s own strides. These were the last two that needed to be brought in, and then she could take a break and rest her swollen feet. Mitch was due shortly to trim the broodmares’ hooves, but Megan had quickly claimed the task of holding them. Not that Deb cared much, not when a nice comfy chair had her name all over it. Turning the corner to the barn, she spied Mitch’s truck already parked and the steady rasp of file on hoof coming from inside.

  Leading her charges in, she spied Megan at Delila’s head chatting animatedly to the bent form of the farrier. She quietly guided her mares past, careful not to disturb the golden mare, and placed them in a couple of free stalls. Time for that packet of Tim Tams she had stashed away waiting for an opportunity for her to eat, free from her friends and having to share with them.

  “Hey, Deb,” Mitch said, his voice muffled from his bowed position.

  “Oh, hi, Mitch. How you been?” She slowed her steps to stand beside Megan.

  “Busy. Been getting lots of referral work from the vets and owners of horses Frankie’s trained.”

  “No rest for the wicked.” Megan winked suggestively at him.

  Mitch laughed, the low rumble making Deb smile in return. “Strewth, I don’t reckon I’ve been that bloody bad.”

  “A girl can dream,” countered Megan, giving him a coy smile.

  Mitch smiled awkwardly, shifting his gaze to Deb. “So, um, are you still feeling better?”

  A broad grin broke out over her face. “I am. Your boots are safe. They still have nothing to fear from me.”

  “That’s good to know. Do you want to catch up for a drink sometime?”

  Deb’s mouth opened and closed. She could feel Megan’s sharp look drilling into her. “Ah, I’m not really drinking much these days.”

  Mitch laughed haughtily, his eyes adorably crinkled. “Sure. Next you’re going to tell me you’ve bloody given up coffee.”