The Rancher's Expectant Christmas

The horse nodded, the movement knocking off Josh’s hat.

“Hey!” The horse actually snickered, making Josh shake his head before scooping the hat off the ground.

Deanna smiled as Josh smacked the old Stetson against his thighs to knock off the dust, then rammed it back on his head. “She looks so much like her mama it’s uncanny.”

“You seen her yet?”

“Ohmigosh—she’s still here?”

Something like aggravation shunted across Josh’s features. “Until the day she crosses over. Why would you think she wouldn’t be?”

“Because I’d told Dad to sell her, since I wouldn’t be riding her anymore. At least, not enough to warrant keeping her. But he kept her anyway?”

Leaning back against the fence, Josh folded his arms over his chest, releasing another little puff of dust from his well-worn barn coat. “He came to talk to her every day. Sometimes twice a day, until...well.” A small smile curved his lips. “To tell her all about what you were doing. I even caught him showing the horse your picture on his phone once.”

“Get out.”

“Of course, then he got all embarrassed when he realized I’d seen him.” The smile grew, even if it didn’t quite catch in his eyes. “Your father was crazy, I hope you know.”

This said so gently, and with so much love, Deanna’s eyes burned. But before she could recover, Josh said, “I know why he sent you away, Dee. Or at least, I can guess. And no, he never talked about you all that much afterward. But when he did...” Looking away, he shook his head. “It was obvious how much he loved you.” His gaze met hers again. “How much missed you—”

“You mind if we don’t talk about this right now? About Dad?”

His cheeks pinking slightly, Josh straightened, turning to look out over the pasture. “Sorry. I’m not real good at this.”

“At what?”

“Social graces. Knowing when to keep my trap shut. I hear this stuff in my head—” he waved in the general direction of his hat “—and it just falls out of my mouth.”

“I remember,” Deanna said quietly, then smiled, not looking at him. “I think that’s why we were friends.”

“Because I have no filter whatsoever?”

“Yes, actually.” She let their eyes meet, and her heart thudded against her sternum even harder than the baby kicking her belly button from the inside. “Because I knew you’d always be straight with me. Because...because you never treated me like the boss’s daughter.”

Confusion flitted across his face for a moment until he punched out a laugh. “Oh, trust me, I always treated you like the boss’s daughter.”

Now it was Deanna’s turn to flush. Partly because she got his drift, partly because she’d had no idea there’d been a drift to get. Or not, in this case.

Another subject she didn’t want to talk about, one she’d had no idea was even on the table until thirty seconds ago. However, at this rate they’d have nothing left to discuss except the weather, and wouldn’t that be lame?

“Didn’t mean to abandon you,” he said, and her head jerked to his again. “A little bit ago. For breakfast?”

“Oh. Right. It’s okay, Gus took over. As Gus does. Although I ate so little he threatened to hook me up to an IV.”

“So much for eating for two.”

“Yeah, well, one of the two has squished my stomach into roughly the size of an acorn. Not to mention my bladder. Anyway, I assured him that since I’d eaten everything that wasn’t nailed down in my second trimester I doubted the kid was suffering.”

Josh’s gaze lingered on her belly for several seconds before he turned to prop his forearms on the top rail. “So how long are you here?”

“Not sure. A couple of weeks? I figured...” Deanna cleared her throat, then clutched the fence, stretching out her aching back. “I figured,” she said to the ground as she willed the baby to shift, “there’d be...” Standing upright again, she met Josh’s gaze. “There’d be things to discuss. Handle. Whatever. So I left my ticket open-ended. Long as I’m back the week before Thanksgiving, I’m good.”

“And what happens then?”

“Among other things, an all Mahler concert at the National Symphony I’ve been looking forward to for months. But also an installation at my gallery. Well, not my gallery, but where I work. Young Japanese painter. I...” Her face warmed. “Through a weird confluence of events, I sort of ‘discovered’ him. This will be his first US showing, so we’re all very excited...and your eyes just glazed over, didn’t they?”

“That’s the clouds coming in, they said it might snow later.” She chuckled. Josh crossed his arms. “You like it? What you’re doing?”

“I adore it. It’s what I’m good at. What I love. That I’m actually employed doing something related to what Dad coughed up four years’ tuition for is a bonus.”

When she reached behind her to massage her lower back again—because her daughter’s favorite position involved ramming her skull into the spot right over Deanna’s tailbone—Josh’s gaze dropped to her stomach again, then away.

“This must feel weird. Being back.”

“You have no idea. Like I’m having a dream where I’m a kid again. Because so little has changed.”

Josh gave her a funny look. “Did you expect it to be different?”

“I’m not sure what I expected, truthfully.”

“You’re not what I expected, either.” His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her hair. “What’s up with that, anyway?”

She laughed. “It was decided I needed to look—” she made air quotes “‘edgier’. As in, customers are more likely to buy contemporary art from someone who actually looks contemporary to the twenty-first century. So buh-bye long, blah brown hair, hello—”

“Edgy.”

“Yep. And this is not the pic Dad was showing Starlight. Trust me.”

“Since you never sent him one of you looking like this.”

“Oh, hell, no.”

Josh crossed his arms. “So this is, what? A costume?”

“It’s called dressing the part. And everybody does it. Seriously—if you rode into the rodeo ring in a business suit, would people take you seriously?”

Grinning, Josh looked away. “Point taken.”

Starfire’s breath warmed Deanna’s face when she reached up to stroke the mare’s nose again. “Gus said Dad had hospice come in, at the end,” she said quietly.

“The very end,” Josh breathed out. “That last week or so. Gus was his main caregiver. The rest of us filled in when we could, of course. Or I should say, when Gus let us. Since according to him we never did things right.”

Her jaw tight, Deanna looked back toward the house. “And as I said, Dad could have clued me in, anytime. Or let Gus do it.” Her mouth pulled tight. “I can tell how much it sucked for the old guy, caught between loyalty to my father and what he clearly felt he should’ve done.”

“And obviously you were in no condition to be nursing someone—”

“First off, between Gus and me, we would’ve managed. Secondly, also as I said, Dad didn’t know I was pregnant.” Her tenuous grasp on a good mood slipped away. “And this is a dumb conversation.”