Cathy McDavid - Cowboy for Keeps

She still sculpted for personal enjoyment, completing only two or three pieces a year. Teaching at the Horizon School of Art in Tempe took up most of her time.

Glimpsing her newest piece reminded Dallas that her mother wasn’t enjoying the fulfilling life she might have if Hank had encouraged rather than discouraged her dreams.

Speaking of which...

“Where’s Hank?” Dallas asked, draping her jacket over a kitchen chair and stowing her purse on the counter.

“In the den. Watching the presidential address on TV.”

“Ah.” Dallas rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed.”

“You know Hank and his politics.” Her mother opened the oven, and the aroma of baking chicken immediately filled the air.

Curry chicken, Dallas could tell. So could her stomach, which roiled at the prospect of any spicy food.

“I do know Hank,” she mused aloud.

How could she not? She’d spent twelve years living under the same roof with him. Arguing with him, disobeying him, rebelling against him and finally just tolerating him until the day she could move out. It wasn’t that she hated Hank. Not at all. They were simply polar opposites.

Dallas took after her unconventional mother, something her conservative financial-advisor stepfather didn’t understand. If he had, he wouldn’t have established such strict rules for two teenagers simply eager to get their feet wet in a big, wide world.

Real-life blended families, Dallas had concluded, weren’t like the ones portrayed on TV. They didn’t always, well, blend. Dallas’s younger brother held a similar opinion and had left home the year after she did.

“Heard from Liam recently?” she asked.

“He’s in Colorado. Mapping a remote part of the national forest.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Liam had also inherited their mother’s free-spiritedness. Dallas wasn’t sure he’d ever trade his job as a surveyor for a permanent address.

Like her brother, Dallas valued her independence, but she also longed for stability. A husband and children. She believed all things were possible with the right person.

For the last two years, she had assumed that person was Richard. Except then they’d called it quits.

Dallas’s mother handed her a stack of plates from the cupboard. “You mind setting the table?”

“Of course not.”

She didn’t wait for the next item, fetching glasses and flatware while her mom sliced a loaf of freshly baked bread.

“Hank,” Marina called, then sighed with exasperation. “He can’t hear me over the TV.”

“I’ll get him.” Dallas made her way to the den, following the sound of what had to be a news commentator recapping the address. “Hi, Hank,” she said, stepping into the decidedly masculine room, the only one not decorated by her mother. “Mom sent me to tell you dinner’s ready.”

“Hey.” He pushed himself up from the recliner, turned off the TV with the remote control. “I didn’t hear the doorbell ring.”

“Mom met me outside.”

“She loves it when you come to dinner.”

Dallas detected a hint of reproach in his voice. As if she didn’t already know her visits were too infrequent.

“Work’s piled up lately.”

“You need your rest.” Hank placed a large hand on her shoulder, the gesture more stilted than affectionate.

It was, Dallas had long ago accepted, the best he could manage.

“Have you heard from Richard lately?” Hank asked as they entered the kitchen.

He was fit and tall, and the gray at his temples gave him a distinguished appearance. Dallas could see how her mother had become enamored with him.

“He called Tuesday.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“And?”

“I just thought he might check on you more often.”

Dallas automatically tensed. “Why would he?”

Her mother sent Hank a let-it-go warning.

He didn’t heed it. “You’re pregnant.”

Dallas poured iced herbal tea from a pitcher. “I’m only in my first trimester. It’s not like there’s much change day to day.”

“I’d think, as the father, he’d be more concerned.”

“Richard’s plenty concerned,”

Dallas sat across from her mother, who gave her a he’ll-run-out-of-steam-soon head bobble in reply. Marina could conduct entire conversations without speaking a single word.

“He is.” Hank harrumphed in agreement. “Concerned enough to make an honest woman of you and give his child his name.”

“We’re not getting married.”

The moment Richard had learned about Dallas’s pregnancy, he’d proposed. Or reproposed, in this case. She’d declined. Her parents had married solely because Marina was pregnant with Dallas—not for love.

“You could do worse than Richard.”

Dallas bit down, swallowed her retort. She’d come here for dinner, not to argue with her stepfather.

“Hank cares about you, honey,” Dallas’s mother said in an attempt to smooth things over. “After all, your pregnancy is nothing short of a minor miracle.”

“I was supposed to have trouble conceiving, Mom, not carrying.”

“And yet you did conceive. Without any trouble.” Her face radiated joy. “When you first told us you had PID, I was so sure you were in for a tough road. And then so grateful Richard was willing to brave it with you.”

“He was willing because it meant postponing starting a family. His job came first with him.”

“He wanted to wait until he was financially secure.” Hank helped himself to a serving of chicken. “I think that shows responsibility.”

“And you had your budding photography business to consider,” her mother added.

A bout with appendicitis in college had left Dallas with pelvic inflammatory disease. Because of scarring on her fallopian tubes, she was told she’d likely require the assistance of a fertility doctor in order to conceive. Finding out she was pregnant couldn’t have come as a bigger shock, to her, her family and Richard.

Terminating her pregnancy or giving her child up for adoption weren’t options. Dallas was having the family she wanted, simply a little ahead of schedule. And without a husband. Or a house. Or having become a successful documentary photographer.

A knot formed in her middle.

“You should give him another chance,” Hank said.

Her mother nodded thoughtfully. “Try living together instead of rushing into marriage.”

“We were engaged over a year without ever setting a date. Our instincts were telling us we didn’t have what it takes for a successful marriage. A baby doesn’t change that.”

Dallas was feeling ganged up on. Her mother was fond of Richard and Hank thought there wasn’t a better guy out there.

“But Richard is thrilled about becoming a father,” Marina gushed. “It would be nice for his sake if you could work things out.”

Dallas sighed. It was past time to level with her mother and stepfather.

“I hate to break it to you, but Richard isn’t thrilled.”

“What?” Her mother gasped. “But he... You said—”

“I didn’t want to upset you.” Dallas buttered a piece of bread, but she’d lost her appetite. “He wants to marry me because he believes it’s the right thing to do.”

“He loves you.”

“He did. Once.” Not for a while.

“I’ll talk to him,” Hank interjected.

“You will not! I mean it, Hank.”

“Someone needs to set him straight.”

“That’s not your job.”

He looked hurt, and Dallas instantly regretted the harsh tone she’d used.

“Are you sure he just doesn’t need more time to adjust?” Marina asked, always the mediator.

“I’m asking for you and Hank to respect my wishes and let me handle Richard my own way. Now, please, can we change the subject?”