A Cowboy's Duty

“It is for those who don’t know what they’re doing.” Years ago a burn on her thigh from the caustic liquid had taught Dixie the importance of taking safety precautions when working with the liquid.

“Will breathing that stuff hurt the baby?”

Maybe the baby did matter to him. “I’m careful not to breathe any fumes.” The doors at both ends of the barn were open and two industrial-size fans circulated the air.

“You shouldn’t make soap until after the baby’s born.”

This is why she’d wanted to hold off telling Gavin about her pregnancy. She didn’t want him questioning her every move or believing he had a say in what she did or didn’t do. Besides, putting off marketing her soaps for nine months wasn’t an option. The company she’d contracted with to create her business website charged five-thousand dollars for their service—a thousand dollars less than the normal fee if she paid them in full by the end of November.

After a lengthy silence, Gavin asked, “We need to discuss what happens next.”

Dixie’s throat swelled with panic and she swallowed hard. She’d known from the get-go that Gavin was an honorable man and once he learned he’d fathered her baby he’d insist on doing his duty and marry her. She’d never admit as much, but making love with Gavin had been an incredible experience and she found the notion of waking up each morning in the same bed with him mighty appealing. She shook her head, clearing the X-rated vision from her mind.

Although she respected Gavin for wanting to do right by his child, he was a soldier used to controlling situations and making split-second decisions in the heat of battle. He called the shots and expected his orders to be followed. There was only one problem—Dixie answered to no one.

“Gavin—”

“Dixie—”

“You go first,” she said, bracing herself for a marriage proposal.

“I’m not sure what the answer to our predicament is, but I do know that I’m not ready to marry and settle down.”

Stunned by his confession, Dixie leaned against the workbench and stared unseeingly at the scattered supplies.

“I want to do right by the baby, so I intend to help you financially.”

Her face warmed with embarrassment. What an idiot she’d been to believe Gavin wanted to marry her. Shoving her bruised pride aside, she focused on the positive—he didn’t want to be involved in her or the baby’s life.

“I don’t want to marry, either,” she said, wincing at the crack in her voice. Gavin’s expression softened and Dixie lifted her chin. If there was one thing she hated—it was people feeling sorry for her. She’d grown up subjected to sympathetic murmurs from teachers and neighbors who’d known about her mother’s loose morals.

And look at you now…following in your mother’s footsteps by having a baby out of wedlock.

No. Dixie refused to believe she was anything like her mother. When she’d slept with Gavin she’d had no intention of trapping him into marriage. If anything, her pregnancy made her more determined to become financially independent—the one goal her mother had never achieved.

“Rest assured I’m not walking away from my responsibility to the baby,” he said.

Of course not. Gavin was America’s hero—just not hers.

“You can count on me to help with medical expenses.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have health insurance.” She and her brothers were covered under the same policy. The income brought in by leasing the pecan groves paid the property taxes, monthly insurance premiums and expenses like utilities, food and the cell phone bill.

“I’ll help buy whatever you need for the baby.” He nodded as if trying to convince himself of his sincerity. “Crib, high chair…diapers.”

If Gavin took care of the baby supplies, Dixie could save the cash she earned from her soap sales in Yuma to pay the rest of what she owed for her website. Accepting help from Gavin would relieve some of the financial pressure, but she feared his contributions might lead him to believe he had a vote in how she raised their baby.

Feeling the strain of pretending their discussion about the baby was everyday run-of-the-mill conversation, Dixie said, “If there’s nothing else you wanted…”

He reached past her, his arm brushing her shoulder. The contact sent a zap of electricity through her body. Would a simple touch from Gavin always ignite a powerful reaction in her? He grabbed a Sharpie marker and scribbled a phone number on the bench.

“Call me if you need anything.” He pulled out his cell phone, then asked, “What’s your number?”

Dixie hesitated. She didn’t want Gavin checking up on her, but if she didn’t give him the number he’d ask one of her brothers. She recited the digits, warning, “I don’t always carry my phone with me.”

His dark eyes drilled into her and Dixie got the uncomfortable feeling he could read her mind. “I’ll leave a message on your voice mail.”

A sudden urge to weep overcame her—pregnancy hormones. She walked to the stove and stirred the ashes. Leave, Gavin. When a minute passed and he hadn’t spoken, she glanced over her shoulder. He was gone. On shaky legs she hurried to the barn door and caught the taillights of his truck.

Dear God, how would she keep her attraction to Gavin from showing if he came and went as he pleased in her life?

She glanced at his phone number, startled by the stack of twenty-dollar bills resting on the worktable.

Gavin’s first child-support payment.

* * *

GAVIN MADE IT AS FAR AS the end of the drive on Dixie’s property before hitting the brakes. Three pickups pulled onto the one-lane dirt road. The Cash brothers had returned from the rodeo in Growler.

Johnny drove the first truck and kept on coming, stopping inches from Gavin’s bumper. He made no move to back up, which meant Gavin had to back down. Keeping his gaze on the rearview mirror, he shifted into Reverse and pressed the gas pedal. Once he reached the farmhouse he shut off his truck. The Cash brothers circled their vehicles like a wagon train.

Gavin’s senses were on high alert as he stepped from the truck. He and the brothers faced off. A sweat broke out across his brow. The cotton material beneath his armpits dampened and his blood pumped through his veins like a white-water rapid.

“What’s going on?”

Dixie’s voice penetrated Gavin’s military fog and the buzzing in his ears weakened as she marched across the yard, arms swinging.

“What’s Tucker doing here?” Johnny asked.

Gavin held his tongue, deferring to Dixie to inform her siblings that he’d fathered her baby.

“He’s interested in my soaps,” she said.

Did she really think her brothers would buy the lie?

Johnny moved closer, crowding Gavin’s personal space.

One…two…three…

“Since you drove all this way to check out my sister’s soaps, the least we can do is invite you to supper.”

Four…five…

Johnny stepped back and Gavin sucked in a deep breath, the lungful of oxygen easing his anxiety. He glanced at Dixie. Her eyes pleaded for him to leave. “I’ll stay.”

“Willie, grab some beers.” Johnny nodded to the porch. “Take a load off, Tucker.”

An hour later, Merle took the half-empty beer bottle from Gavin and handed him a fresh one. “For a soldier, you drink like a sissy,” he said.