The Cowboy's Forever Family (11 page)

Laney chuckled weakly. Of course she was relieved by the news, but she was more than a little overwhelmed by it all.

“If this is just practice, I hate to imagine what the real thing will be like,” she said, trying to laugh off her misgivings and utterly failing. She was frightened. Who wouldn't be? It was her first baby and she didn't have any idea what to expect. And yet women had been giving birth since the beginning of time. She'd make it through whatever was thrown at her.

Slade jumped in before Delia could speak. “There are painkillers or something she can use, right? Some way to make it easier for her during labor?”

Delia nodded, amusement evident in her gaze and the quirk of her lips. “Don't worry, Slade. Laney has plenty of options at her disposal when the time comes. I'm sure she's educated herself in all of this, and she'll have plenty of help around her, whether here or at a hospital. She'll be able to keep her labor pains manageable.”

Laney did know all about those options, everything ranging from narcotics to epidurals, but she didn't plan to use anything to manage her pain. Despite her unexpected and surprisingly painful introduction to contractions, she wanted to have a natural birth. But seeing the concern lining Slade's face, she didn't think now would be a good time to bring that up, especially as relieved as he'd appeared once he heard there were ways to ease her pain in labor. She could actually see the muscles in his neck and shoulders unwinding.

“I want you to take it easy for a couple of days, Laney,” Delia instructed. “Slade, make sure she doesn't take on too much, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he answered with a firm jerk of his chin, his gaze as serious as Laney had ever seen it. “I promise I'm not going to let her lift a finger.”

Laney sighed. There went her trip to see her sister. She knew Slade well enough to know he wasn't going to let her out of his sight until he deemed her well and fully past this trial. She doubted if he'd even let her off the couch to do anything more strenuous than visiting the bathroom.

If he was this assertive now, she couldn't even begin to imagine how bad he'd be once the baby was born.

The thought made her smile. For all his domineering behavior, she wouldn't change him if she could. His single-minded focus and his strength were what made him the man he was. She hated to admit it, but his overbearing attitude more often than not seemed to originate from his need to
do
something, to fix whatever appeared to him as a problem. In Slade's world, mountains weren't for looking at—they had to be conquered.

Maybe that was what had gone wrong in her marriage to Brody, she realized, as Slade wrapped her in a blanket and bundled her back out to the truck, fussing over her as if she was made of fine china and might break at any moment.

Now that the thought had occurred to her, she couldn't help but compare Slade with Brody. From the moment she and Brody had exchanged vows, she had done nothing but try to change him. She'd been attracted to the young, handsome bull rider, and yet she'd never accepted the rodeo as part of his life, nor the fact that he served on the police force. Had she simply embraced who he was and not tried to make into something he wasn't, maybe things would have been different. He might have taken her with him to his weekend rodeos, or brought her home to Serendipity.

Brody was a risk-taker and a thrill-seeker. That was who he'd been, and she'd had no business trying to mold him into anything other than that. Wasn't it God's job to work on people's hearts?

And the worst part was, she had the evidence right in front of her that God could work on a man's heart, no matter how hardened he appeared to be on the outside. She remembered Slade saying that the Lord had touched Brody, and Brody had been planning on coming home to her.

She slid a glance at Slade, but his attention was on the road, his hat pulled low over his eyes so she couldn't read what he was thinking. His jaw was tight with strain again, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking that made him look so tense. She'd been proclaimed good to go. She'd expect he'd be relieved by that.

Whatever it was that was bothering him, he obviously didn't feel inclined to share it with her, and she didn't know how to ask, so they rode in silence. Thankfully, her contractions appeared to have petered out. That was one blessing.

It was only after they'd arrived back at the Becketts' ranch and he'd ushered her inside that he spoke. His agitation had faded like the calm after a thunderstorm, at least until it was replaced by his usual dictatorial attitude, the one she knew and loved.

Okay, not
loved
. But at least it was familiar.

“You,” he said, pointing first to her and then to the sofa. “There. Now. I'm going to go find you some extra pillows. When I get back, I expect to see you lying down with your feet up. Understood?”

“Bully,” she muttered.

“Stubborn woman,” he replied back, one corner of his mouth lifting.

They were both right, Laney thought. As evenly matched as two people could be. It was a toss-up to know who would prevail, or even if it were possible for either of them to win at their constant battle of wills.

She didn't even know if it mattered, because at this point she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to win.

Chapter Nine

S
lade was fairly satisfied with what he'd accomplished. He'd managed to keep Laney comfortable and resting—for the most part, anyway. When he'd called her stubborn, he'd had no idea just how true his observation was. It had been the longest five days of his life, trying to keep Laney resting on the couch.

From the moment her fake contractions—or whatever they were called—diminished, the woman had been just itching to get up and back to work. It was all Slade could do to keep her contained.

Naturally, he had stopped her from taking that kind of risk, with Grant and Carol's assistance. And it hadn't been easy.

Doctor's orders. And he would keep telling her that until she actually listened to him. He'd completely cleared his schedule so he could be with her. One of the benefits of small-town living—the police captain was a personal friend and was very understanding about his needing time off.

He wasn't about to let anything happen to Laney or Baby Beckett, even if that meant sitting with her for hours on end and bringing her all her meals on a tray. She'd teased him about being her own personal maid, but he didn't care what she called him, as long as she stayed put.

Even though he still felt awkward about expressing his faith, they'd prayed together about Baby Beckett's health. He privately amended his own petitions to ask God to also protect Laney. He was only now beginning to realize how deep her faith went, and it nudged at his heart. He would do well to emulate her in that regard. While he was still struggling with the basics, she'd learned how to lean on God through the worst of it, the school of hard knocks with Brody's death and then all the opposition the world could possibly have thrown at her.

His
opposition, to be precise.

He was ashamed to realize just how much grief he'd caused this sweet, special woman. Pushing Brody to ignore his wedding vows. Putting up every possible roadblock when Laney had first moved to Serendipity. He couldn't have acted like a bigger jerk if that was intentionally what he'd set out to be.

After five straight days of bed rest, Laney was champing at the bit to get out for, as she put it, some much-needed fresh air. Slade wasn't entirely convinced she wouldn't be pushing herself too hard, but with Serendipity's annual rodeo only a week and a half away, Slade had a ton of things he had to accomplish and little time to do it all. Yet he was determined not to leave Laney's side for an instant, so he found himself in a bit of a conundrum.

He'd offered to help set up for the event, which was held at the public stable arena. Folks from small towns all around the area would be out for the event and the arena would be at full capacity. Bleachers had to be set up and equipment needed to be tested, not to mention the fact that while he'd been watching over Laney, he hadn't been preparing for his ride. So in the end he'd given in to Laney's nagging and was taking her out to the arena. Killing two birds with one stone, and all that.

He wouldn't ride a bull in front of her. Not until he had to, even if the bull in question was a practice bull and far beneath his skill set. There were plenty of other things to keep him busy, and some time outside would no doubt raise Laney's spirits.

Seemed like a good compromise, but as he kicked back on the Becketts' armchair waiting for Laney to get ready, he once again considered the wisdom of taking her out, especially to the arena. He hadn't mentioned again to her his intention to ride in the rodeo, and he wasn't sure how she was going to react upon discovering he was sticking to his original plans. He wasn't even sure how to approach the subject, so they hadn't ever discussed it. The last thing she needed was to experience any stress or strain right now.

He wasn't sure how to break the news to her, but after careful consideration, he realized the best way for him to handle it would be to come right out and tell her. It would be far more shocking for her to discover he was riding on the day of the event than if he was honest with her to begin with. That didn't make it any easier to figure out what to say, though.

He'd invited her to the arena today with the intention of coming clean, and of gently acclimating her to being around the rodeo and all it entailed. She hadn't been back to a rodeo since Brody's death and he was half surprised when she accepted his invitation. The whole idea of being at a rodeo had to be difficult for her. In many ways, it was for him as well, but he had a good reason for overcoming his reluctance—to honor Brody.

He didn't know how many rodeos she'd attended prior to meeting him and Brody, but he expected there had been many, as pretty and talented as she was. Who
wouldn't
choose her to be a rodeo princess?

He'd even put her name in the hat for the Serendipity rodeo. She wouldn't be able to race around the arena on the back of a horse, but surely the powers that be could make some kind of exception for her—take her around in the back of a truck, maybe. Some sparkles and a sash and it wouldn't matter how she entered the arena. All eyes would be on her.

“You ready?” He jumped to his feet, hat in hand, as she came down the hallway and out into the living room.

He couldn't remember her ever looking so beautiful, sporting blue jeans and an emerald Western shirt that stretched tightly over her midsection. She was an attractive woman and pregnancy had done nothing to detract from that, but it wasn't the way she was dressed that made Slade's breath catch in his throat.

She was glowing. Her eyes glittered with excitement and her cheeks flushed a pretty rose underneath his intense scrutiny.

“Good enough?” She followed the question with a short, self-conscious laugh.

Good enough? Try great. Amazing. Outstanding. Gorgeous.

But the only thing that came out of his mouth was a strangled groan. All he could do was nod like an idiot and hope she knew what he meant.

“I was going to go for a sundress, since the spring weather has been so beautiful, but then I got to thinking that the arena has a dirt surface and there might be cowboys on horses kicking up dust.”

And bulls.
Their eyes met but neither one of them voiced the thought aloud.

“You look mighty fine just the way you are, princess.” At least his ability to speak actual English words had returned. That was a relief, but he still felt as awkward as a teenage boy on his first date—not that this was a date.

So why did he feel so self-conscious, tongue-tied and gangly? Heat flooded through him from the tip of his boots to the top of his head.

Wonderful. It wasn't as if she wouldn't notice him turning cherry red.

She grinned at him, the sparkle in her brown eyes suggesting she saw right through him. So much for her not seeing the obvious.

“Why, Slade McKenna, was that a compliment?” She sounded like a regular Southern belle, which only served to make him want to twitch around like a million tiny ants were crawling all over him. He'd never been so uncomfortable in his life.

Try as he might, he couldn't seem to regain command of his wayward wits and his senses were shattering every which direction. He curled the brim of his hat in his fist, desperate to regain a modicum of control, searching for a way to speak without sounding like a muddleheaded youth.

In the end he decided the easiest route out of the corner in which he'd trapped himself would be to blurt out the truth. He did find her attractive. And maybe if he teased her, it would have the added benefit of turning their attention back to her instead of on him.

“Yes, ma'am. It was a compliment, and well-deserved. Now let's get out of here before your head swells to the size of your belly.”

“Oh, you.” She slapped his shoulder playfully. “But seriously, thank you for taking me out of the house. I couldn't stand one more second being cooped up inside.”

“Just don't overdo it,” he said, rushing to open the screen door for her before she could do it herself.

“You worry too much. How am I going to overexert myself? I know you. You'll have an eye on me every single second of the day.”

“You'd better believe it,” he agreed, still feeling slightly reluctant about the whole outing. “I'll have a couple of the men help me spread out a tent awning to cover the bleachers to shade you and the baby from the sun.”

“You think of everything. All you're going to let me do is sit on the bleachers and watch you, right? What possible harm could come to me or Baby Beckett?” She laughed. “Although I doubt Baby is too worried about sunburn at the moment.”

“True.” His heart warmed that she'd said she would be watching. He hoped
he
was the man she'd be watching. His mind fled back to the jam session and how many of the single cowboys there had flocked to her side and tried to get her attention. He didn't want her eye wandering to any of those guys.

The first thing he did when he arrived at the stable was to find a couple of guys to help him set up Laney under an awning, as promised. Once she was seated, he jogged back to his truck to retrieve a cooler he'd filled with fruit and cold water.

“You don't have to fuss over me,” she admonished gently. “Really. This is too much, Slade.”

“No such thing.”

She patted the spot next to her on the bleachers. “I know you have a lot to do today, but sit with me for a moment.”

Her gaze turned serious and her brow lowered. His heart thudded wildly and then ground to a sudden halt.

“You're still planning to ride a bull, aren't you?”

He choked on an answer he wasn't yet prepared to give and tensed for the opposition he felt sure was coming.

Instead, she nodded and shifted her gaze away from him, staring off to somewhere on the other side of the arena. She was silent for a long moment before speaking.

“I figured.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She could have knocked him over with a single finger to the chest. “You did?”

“You're a bull rider. What else would you do?”

He could ride a horse—be a bullfighter for other riders. He could rope or steer wrestle. He could bow out completely, for that matter, and that was exactly what he'd expected her to suggest to him. Who could blame her?

She didn't sound mad. Why wasn't she mad?

“You're not angry?”

She shifted her gaze to him and shook her head. “I can't say it doesn't bother me. Obviously I have reason to fear the sport, and I'll be praying for you every single second of your ride. But it would be ridiculous to expect you to give up something that brings you so much pleasure just because I don't happen to like it.”

That got Slade thinking. He'd ridden a dozen practice bulls in preparation for the Serendipity rodeo, but not because he enjoyed it. Riding bulls had lost its flavor for him. Even though Brody had been a skilled rider and the accident that killed him had been a fluke, the whole sport no longer sat well with Slade now that it reminded him of the loss of his dearest friend. He found himself looking at the sport in a whole new light.

No, that wasn't quite right.

Not the sport. He was looking at
himself
differently. Chasing after pretty women, elusive titles and negligible purses was no longer for him. It was for other, younger men. Men who weren't thinking about their lives, their futures.

With the intensity of a sudden punch in the gut, Slade realized he wanted much more—things he'd never given much thought to but was now desperate for. And his new goals were no easier to aspire to, much less gain, than succeeding as a bull rider. Much harder, even.

He wanted the titles of husband and father. Titles Brody had had—or would have had, had he lived to see his baby born.

And Laney...

If Brody had lived, she would have had the protection and stability of the family she deserved. Slade had taken that from her when he'd pushed Brody into riding Night Terror. He'd ruined everything for her.

As for him, he had no right to complain about his sudden loneliness or to expect any better. It was almost ironic. The fly-by-night life of a bull rider no longer appealed to him, no longer held the attraction it once had. He'd grown up, but it was too late to make things right.

Brody would probably have had a good laugh at his change of heart. His friend would have teased him mercilessly about his sudden desire to man up and settle down.

Or maybe he would have been angry. He had every right to have been, although it hadn't been Brody's style to hold a grudge. Slade had disrespected Brody's relationship with Laney in every possible regard. It made him sick just to think about it. He'd always figured Brody had tagged along with him because he had the same view of relationships. It was disconcerting to imagine that his best buddy might have been going against his conscience all that time. Despite the seeming hastiness of his marriage, Brody had been miles ahead of him in many regards. How many times had Brody tried to explain his change of heart and Slade had not listened, but instead had pressed his friend to continue his delinquent behavior?

Slade wished with all his heart he could change the past. How was it possible that Brody had died while he had lived? In Slade's mind it was the ultimate in unfairness and a perpetual struggle for him. He'd probably never know why God had done what He'd done, taken Brody when He had.

“Whoa. I lost you.” Laney bumped his shoulder with hers. “Where'd you go? Your expression turned so dark and ominous there for a second.”

“I was thinking about Brody.”

“Hard not to, all things considered. He's been on my mind, as well.”

“Yeah.” His voice was scratchy and rough with strain.

“But you know, the memories aren't all bad. I met Brody at a rodeo. It was the only one I've ever attended, I'm afraid. You'll have to school me in the fine points of the sport so I know what to look for when I'm cheering for you.”