Marin Thomas - A Cowboy's Duty

“Anything else exciting happen at the rodeo?” she asked.

“Depends on what you consider exciting.”

“I suppose Veronica Patriot was there.” Dixie fussed with the dishes in the sink while contemplating her dilemma—how to glean information about a certain cowboy without drawing her brother’s suspicion.

“Veronica’s hot on Gavin Tucker’s tail.” Johnny chuckled. “He got thrown in the first round then split.”

“Did Veronica leave the rodeo with Gavin?” Drat, the question slipped from her mouth.

“Why do you care if Tucker went off with Veronica?”

“I don’t.” After Dixie had spent the night in Gavin’s motel room she’d returned to the farm the following morning and confessed she’d stayed at a friend’s house because she’d had too much to drink at the Spittoon.

Johnny tossed his empty beer bottle into the garbage and made a beeline for the back door.

“Hey, you promised to fix the shelf in the barn cellar.”

“Conway said he’d take a look at it.”

Conway Twitty was the fifth born Cash son. All six of her brothers had different fathers. Only Dixie and Johnny shared the same daddy. Her mother had come full circle in her quest for the perfect man and had reunited with her first love, Charlie Smith, only to become pregnant with Dixie. Aimee Cash had never married any of the men she’d slept with, so Dixie and her brothers had taken her surname—Cash.

Dixie and Johnny had the same dark brown hair and blue eyes, which they’d inherited from Charlie. Their brothers had brown eyes and various shades of blondish-brown hair like their mother. “Conway’s preoccupied,” Dixie said.

“Is he still pouting because Sara broke up with him?”

“I think so.” Conway was the handsomest of her brothers and women fawned all over him, which derailed his love life on a regular basis. Each time he found the one, another woman would happen along and tempt him to cheat. Then when the one caught him two-timing, she’d send Conway packing and her brother would mope like a coon dog left home on hunt day.

“I’ll look at the shelf before I leave tonight,” Johnny said.

“You and Charlene have big plans?” Charlene was Johnny’s longtime girlfriend. They’d been together six years and Johnny had yet to propose.

“We’re going to the movies then back to her place afterward.”

None of her brothers brought their significant others to the farm. Paper-thin walls and shared bedrooms prevented any privacy, not to mention having only one bathroom in the house.

“What about you?” Johnny winked. “Got a hot date?”

Right then Dixie’s stomach seized and she bolted from the kitchen. She took the stairs two at a time then skidded to a stop in front of the bathroom door. One hand clamped over her mouth and the other pounding the door, she fought the urge to vomit.

“Go away! I’m reading,” Porter Wagoner shouted.

Ignoring the bedroom doors creaking open behind her and Johnny’s shadow darkening the top of the stairs, Dixie banged her fist harder. Blast you, Porter. She spun, intent on dashing outside, but Johnny blocked her escape.

Oh, well. Dixie threw up on his boots.

“Eew!” Willie Nelson chuckled.

“I’ll fetch the mop.” Merle Haggard leaped over the contents of Dixie’s stomach and hurried to the kitchen.

“Sorry.” Dixie wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

“What’s all the commotion?” Porter emerged from the bathroom, his eyes widening at the mess covering Johnny’s boots.

“Have you been drinking Grandpa’s pecan whiskey, sis?” Conway asked.

She ignored her brother’s sarcastic joke.

“I see your ankle sprain has miraculously healed.” Johnny’s gaze drilled Dixie.

“You think it’s food poisoning?” Buck Owens asked in his usual quiet voice.

“No. I drank too much coffee today and skipped supper.” Growing up the youngest in the pack she’d learned from her brothers how to talk her way out of trouble.

Johnny pointed to the floor. “If all you’ve had to drink is coffee, what are those white chunks on my boots?”

Merle saved her from having to answer. “Here’s the mop,” he said, shoving the handle at Dixie.

Her stomach lurched and she tossed the mop back at her brother and fled to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Dixie offered up the remainder of her lunch to the porcelain god, then once her stomach settled, she sank to the floor between the toilet and the pedestal sink, too exhausted to face her brothers.

At only five weeks pregnant the morning sickness was hitting her hard. Amazing that her mother had gone through this so many times—by choice. Dixie holed up in the bathroom until the uproar in the hallway faded. Until Buck quit asking if she was okay. Until the shadows of her brothers’ boots disappeared from beneath the door. Then she brushed her teeth and gargled with mouthwash. When she emerged from the bathroom, the hallway was empty save for Johnny sitting at the top of the stairs.

Through thick and thin her eldest brother had always been there for her. Dixie sank down next to him on the step. “I’m twenty-three, Johnny. A grown woman. I can take care of myself.”

The hurt look in his eyes cut through her. She hated disappointing him and knew the last thing he wanted was for her to follow in their mother’s footsteps.

“Are you pregnant?” he asked.

“Yes.” She’d hoped to keep the secret a while longer—until she decided when and how to tell Gavin.

“Who’s the father?” he asked.

“I’m not ready to say.”

Johnny gaped. “The guy’s got a right to know he’s fathered a child.”

“I’ll tell him.” Eventually. When she was certain she could hold her ground with Gavin. Dixie had plans for the future and wouldn’t allow anyone—including the baby’s father—to interfere with them.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth this morning when I asked why you weren’t going with us to the rodeo?”

“’Cause I knew you’d be mad.”

Johnny shoved a hand through his hair, leaving the ends sticking up. “I taught you about birth control.”

“We used a condom,” she said.

“Not the one I made you put in your purse when you were sixteen, I hope.”

She dropped her gaze.

“What the heck, Dixie! That condom was seven years old.”

“I know. I know. What does it matter now?”

“Do you plan to keep the baby or do I need to drive you into Yuma to one of those women’s clinics?”

“I’m going to keep the baby.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay then.” Johnny stood. “You’ve got one week to tell me who the father is or I’ll make a big stink.”

“You better not tell anyone I’m pregnant.”

“One week, sis. I’m not letting this guy shirk his responsibility to you and the baby.” As soon as the front door shut behind Johnny, various bedroom doors opened.

“Quit spying!” she shouted, then fled to the barn—her private sanctuary.

Chapter Two

“I’m heading into Yuma. Anyone want to come along?” Dixie asked as she waltzed into the kitchen Wednesday afternoon. Three of her brothers—the unemployed ones—played poker.

“I’ll see your five Lemonheads and raise you two.” Conway pushed the candy to the center of the table.

“Stupid move, bro,” Porter said.

“I’ll see your two, little brother, and raise you five.” Buck grinned.

“Hey, did anyone hear my question?”

Three heads swiveled in Dixie’s direction and her brothers spoke in unison. “What?”

“I’ve got an appointment with the owner of Susie’s Souvenirs in Yuma. Who wants to go with me?”

Conway gaped as if she’d left her brain upstairs in the bedroom. “We’re in the middle of a poker game.”