One to Take (Stuart & Mariska): Sexy Cowboy (One to Hold Book 8) (20 page)

T
he noise
of Scout’s hoof beats mixes with the roar of the wind as we ride in a full gallop across the prairie. Overnight packs are strapped to our saddles, and Stuart is on Freckles, letting her stretch her legs and work out her nerves.

Cold air races us across the open prairie, bringing frigid temperatures and the last chance we’ll have to camp out in the cabin before the heavy snows start. I’ve been in school at the University of Great Falls one month, and I love my classes.

It’s amazing to think I might never have found my new course of study if we hadn’t come here. I’ve always been interested in healing and art, but I never considered combining the two. I’m completely consumed by my work, and Stuart is in heaven being back on the ranch. We’ve reached a place of contentment and deep satisfaction in our life together.

I don’t like thinking about the days we were apart. I was so lost and alone, even more so because of how close we’d been. Still, like a bone, we’re so much stronger because of our break. I’m distracted, considering all these things, when I see Stuart pulling Freckles to a halt. I tighten my stomach muscles and do the same, and following his gaze, my heart stops when I see her.

The little grey horse—Jessie is standing near a clump of trees watching us, not moving. I would recognize her anywhere with her shadow-black muzzle and the little moon in the center of her forehead.

My eyes fly to Stuart’s, and he glances at me. Freckles shakes her head and nickers, and she seems to recognize her runaway foal as well. My heart beats so fast it hurts, and I’m surprised by how much I want her back. I don’t want to do anything to scare her away. My insides pull to this little horse, and I remember crying to Sylvia in the hospital,
It wasn’t her fault. She was so afraid.

I don’t want her to be out here wild and running, an easy target for a predator or worse, falling and being injured, suffering alone until she dies.

I watch Stuart as he watches Jessie, and I can’t help remembering how he tried to kill her. “What can we do?” I whisper.

“I don’t have any rope or anything to use as a lasso. We’re going to have to let her go and see if we can find her later or see if she comes back around.”

“Do you think she will?” I’m so happy he understands without me having to explain how much this means to me.

I’m desperate to do anything to catch her, yet at the same time, I remember how new she was to us. She had only just started coming around when the accident occurred. First I fainted, falling off the gate and causing Stuart to panic, which startled her. Then Amy and I scared her in the barn, and finally the gunshot. It would be a miracle if she ever came back at all.

“I don’t know.” Stuart looks at the reins he’s holding. “Winter’s coming. It’s not good for her to be out here alone.”

The little horse stays at the tree line watching us, and we continue on to the cabin, keeping her in sight. By the time we reach our destination, she’s gone, and we can only unpack and go inside.

Sliding down from Scout, I pause a moment, holding the Palomino’s saddle. My head is light, and I feel suddenly weak.

“You okay?” Stuart is at my side.

I nod and smile reassuringly. “Too much excitement, I guess.”

“I’ll get the fire going.”

We brought kindling for a campfire, an Indian blanket, and suits for swimming. I unpack the dinner Winona prepared for us and think about how kind she’s been since we arrived. I’d worried she might resent Stuart and me coming in because of our age or because we’re not Bill. I worried she might not like the change. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

She has embraced us like a grandmother, and I guess she feels that way toward Stuart, since he’s been coming here since he was a teenager. I learned she’s Chippewa-Cree, and I can’t wait to get to know her better, see if we share any gifts.

When I went back to Bayville, my faith was shaken. I had lost my baby, my family, and I lost my ability to believe. Now I’ve gotten almost all of those things back again, and as we were packing, Stuart found a letter to me from my Yaya.

I’ll never forget his beautiful face, cautiously bringing it to me. “This was in your grandmother’s journal,” he’d said, handing me a yellowed envelope with my name handwritten on the front.

I opened it, and inside was a letter…

I held the letter close to my chest for so long, allowing the healing words to soak into my heart. It restored my faith in everything that had happened, in everything that brought Stuart and me together.

If I hadn’t dreamed of him lost and dying in the desert, I’d never have run after him. At least that’s what he says, and I let him believe it. He hasn’t seen his sexy backside. I’d probably have followed him even without the dreams.

Tonight as we sit under the stars, I remember that night so long ago when we held each other, sharing everything. Why he became a Marine, why I was alone. I made a wish on a shooting star to have exactly what I have now. Two arms that will never let me go, even when life gets dark, even when I lose faith. Two strong arms to carry me back.

“What are you thinking about?” Stuart’s lips press against the side of my neck sending chills across my skin. We’re wrapped together in the warm blanket, my back to his chest.

“How I’ve almost gotten back everything.”

His brow lines, and he cups the side of my face. “We’ll get there.”

“No—I don’t mean it that way. I’m so happy. And then we saw Jessie.”

“I want you to have everything you’ve lost.”

Thinking about that, I lower my voice. “We can’t have everything.”

Sadness flickers in his eyes, but I reach forward to kiss his lips. “Don’t—I don’t want to be sad.” My lip catches in my teeth, and I tell him. “I haven’t gone back on the pill since I lost Jessica. Who knows what might happen.”

His arms tighten around me, and he pulls me close against his chest. “I’ll take whatever comes as long as I have you.”

It’s another of the million reasons I love this man. Struggling to break his grip, I move into a straddle on his lap, kissing his mouth. Our lips chase each other’s until we consume, tongues uniting. My fingers thread in the back of his hair as his hands slide up my thighs, under my skirt.

He touches me, teasing the soft flesh under my panties, and I moan, rocking my hips over his growing erection. It isn’t long before his pants are down and we’re together, riding out the waves of passion under a big sky brilliant with stars.

Our love has always been a leap of faith, and our connection since those first days so long ago was mysterious and risky. It’s the most certain thing I’ve ever known.

We’re here, we’re together, and together, we’re home.

M
ariska wades
through the tall grasses in a flowing green skirt and long-sleeved tunic top. She rests a hand on her pregnant stomach as she picks a yellow flower and twirls it in her fingers. Her hair is to her shoulders now in beautiful waves, and she wears a garland of white flowers like a headband.

It’s late April, and while she looks like she could go any day now, the doctor calculated her due date as mid-May, which means we made the little guy shortly after we returned to Great Falls, possibly that night by the campfire.

Had I known she was expecting Stuart William Junior, I’d never have let her ride with me to track down and capture Jessie, much less help me train and finally tame that spirited horse. We’ve been a lot more careful ever since. As much as Mariska fights me, I can’t help being extra protective of her at this time.

Now Jessie is part of our herd, and she is the calmest horse on the place. Running away and spending a few months fending for herself was good medicine for that wild horse. When I trained her, she picked up almost exactly where we left off in the process, and doesn’t seem to be like her mother, which is a good thing.

Mariska looks up and sees me watching her, and a brilliant white smile spreads across her beautiful face. I can’t believe there was a time I didn’t think she belonged here. She’s made a place for herself in this wilderness. She and Winona spent the long winter days when we couldn’t leave the house exchanging stories of their heritage and beliefs. Winona has done more talking since we’ve taken over than she did in all the days I’ve known her. She’s become like a surrogate grandmother for Mariska.

I spent the winter months planning and talking to the other ranchers and my uncle. In the spring I’m going to bring more horses on the place, and Mariska wants to start a therapy program for mentally disabled kids. It’s something she learned about at UGF—equine therapy. She also wants to add her art to the mix.

By this time next year, I expect the place will be up and running and alive with animals and children and good things coming out of loss or disability.

Last night, as she lay in my arms, we’d spread our hands over her swollen belly and talked about the past and the future.

“I thought for a time I might never have you again,” I confessed. “Everyone kept saying I was like my dad, and as much as I didn’t want to be true, it seemed like they were right. I decided it was better to let you go. I saw what he did to my mom, how unhappy she was.”

Mariska laced our fingers together and pulled them to her lips for a kiss. “Your mother once told me you are a lot like your father, but you’re also half of her.”

“Bill said I’m all me, and if I wanted you back, I should go and get you. It was the best advice I’ve ever gotten.”

She squirmed around as best as she could with her stomach so extended. When our eyes met, that golden hazel glowed like the sunset. “Have I ever told you I love your uncle?”

I chuckled and kissed her turned-up nose. “About a million times.”

With a little sigh, her smile faded. “Losing Jessica then losing you then finding out all those things about my past… I didn’t know who I was anymore. I cut my hair and changed my wardrobe. I couldn’t bear seeing myself the way I’d been with you. I stopped believing.” Her slim arms slid around my neck, and I leaned down to place my lips to hers. “Then you came back, and the shield I’d put up around my heart began to crack.”

My eyes narrowed and I caught hers. “It’s a good thing I was feeling so bad about myself when I saw you with that other guy… I was hurt and angry and ready to punch somebody in the face.”

“You’re such a caveman,” she laughed. “Poor Pete.”

“He would’ve been poor messed-up Pete if I hadn’t been worried you wouldn’t forgive me.”

She pulled my face to hers then, and we were lost in a passionate kiss, which naturally led to other things.

I’m smiling, thinking of holding her in my arms when I see her grasp the bottom of her stomach. The flower drops from her hand, and her eyes flash to mine, round and worried. I’m over the fence and running to her side before she can even finish saying “My water broke!”

In a sweep she’s in my arms, and I’m running to the truck.

“My skirt! I’m all wet!” she cries, trying to get out of my arms. “Let me go inside and get my suitcase!”

“I’ll come back for it.” Reaching for the visor, I open it and the silver keys hit my lap. I jam it into the ignition when she leans forward, both hands on the dash and lets out the most inhuman groan I’ve ever heard.

“Shit, Mariska…” My fucking stomach slams to my feet, and I throw the truck into reverse before skidding out of the yard onto the two-lane road leaving a cloud of dust and rocks in our wake.

“Stuart…” Her eyes are closed, and her face is white. A sheen of sweat coats her upper lip, and fear clenches my chest.

“Are you okay?” She’s too early, and the thought that something could go wrong, the notion that we might lose this one, has me on edge.

“We’re going to make it,” she gasps, but her fingers are white on the dash, and her eyes squeeze shut as she lets out another little cry of pain. “Just keep driving. Be careful!”

I press the accelerator harder. “Hold on.”

It’s the only bad thing about where we live—we’re miles from the nearest hospital. My mind struggles to stay focused and rational as she lets out another long wail from the passenger’s seat. My palms slide on the steering wheel, and I almost shout when we finally get in the city limits.

Flashers on, I treat every red light like a four-way stop, until finally we’re pulling into the circular emergency drive. I throw the truck in park and hop out. Mariska’s still moaning and now she’s trembling. She’s in my arms, and I charge through the automatic doors like I’m carrying her from a war zone.

“We need Dr. Brown,” I shout to the attendant. She’s out of her chair asking what’s wrong, and a guy in scrubs is headed our way with a wheelchair. “She’s in labor,” I continue not wanting to put her down until we’re at a bed.

Mariska’s head is on my chest, and she grips the front of my shirt. I can feel her body straining with every pain, and I wish there was some way I could help her.

“Here, sir,” the fellow with the wheelchair motions for me to put her down.

“Show me to a room. I’ll put her on a bed.” I don’t want to put her down at all then Dr. Langley, Dr. Brown’s partner appears.

“Mr. Knight! I just got the call. Follow me.” He leads the way, and I follow him quickly down the hall.

“I think she’s too early,” I say as we enter the room. Mariska is sitting, leaning forward on the bed with her eyes closed. “She didn’t want drugs, but I think she might be in trouble.”

Her hand shoots out and grabs my arm with such force I almost sit. She’s shaking her head fast, and I peel her fingers off my arm, holding it in my hand instead.

“No?” I say, smoothing her hair back. “What’s wrong? What’s no?”

She looks up at me, and her eyes are so focused. “I wasn’t sure…” She takes a breath. “It’s the right time.”

“Right—it’s not the right time,” I agree.

“NO!” She shakes her head again, gripping my hand tighter. “This is the right time.”

Dr. Langley is at her side now, holding her arm and helping her back on the bed. “You think the due date was wrong?”

Mariska nods quickly, but then she lets out another yell. My stomach drops. “I hope she’s right.”

She’s crying out more, and the nurses are here. I’m out of my jacket and scrubs are shoved backwards over my shoulders so I can stand beside her and hold her hand. Every scream is a burning sear through my insides.

Dr. Langley is very calm, and he talks her through the process, encouraging and guiding her. Mariska’s body trembles, and her face is soaked. Her hair is soaked. I hold her arm and rub her back feeling like I might lose it at any moment and demand she be given drugs, even though I know it’s too late.

I can take pain. I can tolerate enormous amounts of pain, as I learned in the service. I can’t take watching Mariska suffer like this.

An hour passes. The nurse feeds her ice chips. Every muscle in my body aches from how hard I’m clenching. I feel like I’m pushing through every labor pain with her.

The doctor suggests she walk around when suddenly Mariska breaks into tears. My stomach plummets.

“What’s wrong, baby?” My voice cracks.

“I can’t do it.” She’s crying and shaking, her whole body trembling. “I can’t do it anymore. Stuart, I can’t…”

Holy shit.
I hold her shoulders, stroking her sweat-soaked head. She grips my arms, and I know how hard she’s been working. I don’t know what to say.

Her head drops, but Langley keeps urging. “Come on, Mariska! Don’t give up!”

I’m not having it. My arms are around her shoulders, and I draw her close against my chest. “She needs to rest. Just give her a minute.” It’s a stern order.

The doctor’s eyes go round, and he levels his gaze at me. “She’s at a critical point. The baby’s almost crowning. We can’t surgically remove it. If she stops now, we could lose them both.”

Jesus!
That’s something I won’t allow. My entire demeanor changes. I put my hands on her shoulders and help her sit up. “Come on, baby,” I say softly, catching her chin. Her eyes are wet with tears, and I see the exhaustion lining her face. “We almost have our little boy.”

She shakes her head as more tears fill her eyes. “I don’t think I can. Stuart…”

“Yes,” I smooth back her hair, forcing a smile as panic squeezes my chest. “You can, baby. You’re strong. Bring him here. Come on.”

She blinks at me a few times, thinking. I watch as her eyes roam around the room until at last they return to me, and in them I see that strength she’s always possessed coming back.

Her voice is trembling, but she grips my hand. “Okay.”

Minutes like eons pass as she works through the final stages. The doctor shouts that he’s crowning, and everything moves faster. At the same time, it all seems to go in slow motion until the noise of our urging, the crying and gasping of my wife, the drumbeat of my heart, all of it is cut by the most beautiful, the shrillest scream of a newborn I’ve ever heard.

In a flash Stuart William Junior is in the world, and he’s raging. His cries are strong and angry, and Mariska bursts into teary laughter. He’s swept to a little side area where he’s weighed, measured, and wiped down—yelling his head off the entire time.

I lean down to kiss Mariska’s lips. “He sounds strong.”

“He sounds like his daddy!” she laughs, her face beaming. “He doesn’t like being pushed around.”

The little guy is wrapped in a blanket, and the nurse hands him to Mariska. As soon as she gets him, he nuzzles into her breast. It takes a few moments. He’s rooting and grunting like a newborn puppy. The same nurse steps up to help him find what he’s looking for, and the room falls silent.

Mariska cuddles him closer as he nurses. “He’s so beautiful.”

“He’s dark,” I say, cupping my hand over his dark brown hair. His head is so small it fits in the palm of my hand. “And tiny.”

She leans forward and runs her nose along his little forehead. “He’s perfect.”

“He seems to be.” I touch his little head again gently. “The doc would tell us if anything was wrong.”

Her slim brows pull together, and our eyes meet. “What would be wrong?”

“Just him coming so early.”

“Oh,” she smiles, leaning her head down again. “He’s not early.”

“You said that before. How do you know?”

She sighs, kissing our now-sleeping infant. “I didn’t want to say anything because I wasn’t sure, but I started having dizzy spells and bouts of low blood sugar about a month after we moved back here. Around when we saw Jessie that first time on our way to the cabin.”

Sitting beside her on the narrow bed, I smooth her hair off her forehead. “That would mean he’s—”

“Right on time.” She lifts her chin and kisses my neck. “We must’ve got lucky the night of our honeymoon.”

I breathe a laugh. “It was a good night.”

“It was a great night.” Her cheek rests on my arm, which is around her shoulders.

B
y the time
June rolls around, the ranch is busier than it’s ever been. The additional four horses fill all ten stalls in the barn for the first time ever, and we alternate two days a week working with autistic children and with recovering adults.

Mariska is putting her graduate degree to work, the baby strapped to her body like a little kangaroo in one of those carriers. He’s an easy baby. He doesn’t cry much, and he sleeps through most of her work.

Bill returns for a visit, and as I walk him through the barn, he beams with pride at what we’ve done with the place.

“A therapy ranch.” He shakes his head, grinning under that heavy mustache. “Why didn’t I think of this?”

Will is asleep on my shoulder. A cute little brown sock hat with “Cowboy in Training” printed on it covers his head, and his tiny body is tucked in the crook of my arm. We stop at the paddock door and watch as Mariska works with three autistic children and their parents alongside Cheyenne, Dakota, and Jessie.

One of the children is blind, and as he touches Dakota’s soft mane, extending his clumsy fingers and grabbing at the soft fur, a look of rapture settles over his face.

My grip on my own little son tightens. “Mariska’s department chair is excited to develop this program. Mariska expanded her art therapy to include horses and handicapped children.”

Bill is quiet, his eyes fixed on my wife as she shows the parents how to guide their children through touching and interacting with the large, gentle animals.

“She really belongs here,” he says. “You all do.”

Will stirs on my shoulder, scrubbing his little face against the crook of my neck. I can’t help a smile. “You gave me the best advice of my life when you told me to take back what was mine.”

“I only know what I saw. Mariska loves you. You love her. Life is hard, and it dealt you a tough blow. But you’re strong. You’ve always been stronger than whatever life threw at you.”