Marin Thomas - A Cowboy's Duty

The two-story home was in need of a little TLC. The black shutters could use a coat of paint. The front porch sagged at one end and a handful of spindles were missing from the railing. A swing hung at an odd angle from the overhang and a collection of empty flowerpots sat near the screen door.

Gavin parked next to Dixie’s truck and turned off the ignition. He waited for a barking dog to announce his presence but the farm remained eerily quiet. A gray weathered barn with a tin roof sat across the drive. There was no sign of harvesting equipment and Gavin questioned whether the pecan farm was in production anymore. He climbed the porch steps but before he raised his fist to knock, a loud bang echoed through the air. Switching directions he walked to the barn where he found Dixie.

The first sight of her sent an unwelcome spark of excitement through Gavin. There was nothing sexy about Dixie’s attire—jeans, a faded oversize Arizona Cardinals T-shirt and rubber gloves that went up to her elbows. She sifted through a large metal tray filled with river rock, then walked to the rear of the barn and dropped a handful of stones into a wooden cask mounted on a brick base. Next, she retrieved several bunches of straw, which she added to the barrel, and she scooped a small bucketful of ash from an old-fashioned potbelly stove with a chimney pipe that vented out the side of the barn.

“What are you making?”

A squawk erupted from her mouth. “Gavin.”

His name floated toward him in a breathless whisper. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this off balance around a woman. Dixie wasn’t a flashy girl with showy attributes, but the aura of warmth that surrounded her attracted Gavin. Her average looks, compassionate blue eyes and long brown hair made him feel safe, encouraging him to let his guard down. The night he’d spent in the motel with her he’d almost forgotten he’d been a soldier. Forgotten where he’d been and what he’d seen.

Forgotten he was broken inside.

He motioned to the workbench crowded with scales, liquid-filled jugs, colored glass bottles that resembled jars from an ancient apothecary shop, potted herbs and tin molds. “Are you and your brothers running a meth lab out of your barn?”

She didn’t laugh. “Nothing as exciting as drug-trafficking. I’m making soap.”

Soap?

Dixie dumped the remaining ash into the cask. “What are you doing here?” He gave her credit for not beating around the bush.

“Verifying information I heard in a bar.”

“Oh?”

“Johnny told a friend you were pregnant.” He studied Dixie, searching for the slightest sign he’d hit upon the truth.

Nonchalantly she returned to the workbench and sifted through tin molds. “I am.”

Gavin held his breath, waiting for her to confirm he was the father. When she didn’t offer any details relief left him light-headed. He’d guessed right—she’d been involved with another man before she’d slept with Gavin. On the heels of relief came an unsettling feeling—disappointment. He was far from old-fashioned but he’d never pegged Dixie as the kind of woman who’d cheat on her man.

For his own peace of mind, he wanted confirmation. “I’m not the father, am I?”

A stare down ensued. Dixie balked first—rubbing her fingers over her eyes.

Tears? “I didn’t know lady bull riders cried.” His attempt at humor failed miserably. Unaccustomed to dealing with female emotions Gavin gently tugged a lock of her hair, but Dixie kept her watery gaze averted.

“I’m sorry.”

Gavin tensed. “‘Sorry’ meaning…I am the father?”

She nodded.

The truth hit him like a fist in the gut. “We used a condom.”

“I know,” she said, a disgusted note in her voice. “My brother gave me that condom when I was sixteen years old before I went on my first date.”

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-three.”

Gavin stifled a groan.

“How was I supposed to know it wouldn’t be any good?” She peeled off her gloves and jabbed a finger at Gavin’s chest. “You’re the guy. You should have had protection in your wallet.”

Accepting his share of the blame, he asked, “When did you plan to tell me?”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually when?”

“When I was good and ready.”

He doubted she’d have been good and ready anytime soon. Conflicting emotions raged inside him but beneath the chaos, he was pleased to learn Dixie wasn’t another Veronica.

Dixie turned her back to Gavin and scooped more ash into the bucket. This was not how she’d imagined breaking the news to Gavin that he was about to become a father. She peeked at him beneath her lashes. He appeared to be taking the news well. Maybe a little too well—then again when an army man received bad news, he soldiered on.

“What are you doing with the ash?” he asked when she dumped the contents of the bucket into the casket. He didn’t want to discuss the baby—fine by her.

“I’m making lye for the soap.”

“Isn’t lye a dangerous chemical?”

“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.