The Baby Trail. Karen Smith Rose

to keep up with the chores on the ranch, work a job in town and take care of herself, too.

      Sitting on a teal-and-wine striped chair with huge rolled arms that seemed to swallow her, Kylie protested, “I’m fine.”

      “You’ve got to take care of yourself,” Shaye suggested gently, “and the baby.”

      “I’m doing that. I try to be finished in the barn by nine, so I’m getting a good night’s sleep.” Kylie had pulled her long, straight blond hair back into a ponytail and her blue eyes under her bangs seemed to hold constant worry now.

      “I hope you’re not doing any heavy lifting,” Gwen scolded, noticing that the plasma screen TV Alex had bought to study his rodeo technique was gone.

      “Dix won’t let me. You know that.”

      Dix Pepperdale had been foreman of Saddle Ridge Ranch since long before Jack Warner, Kylie’s father-in-law, had died. He looked on Kylie as a daughter and was protective of her.

      “How’s the new mustang?” Gwen asked.

      “Great.” Suddenly Kylie brightened. “Feather isn’t afraid of me now, at least not as afraid as she was. I hope this week I can get her to eat out of my hand.”

      Kylie had adopted a wild mustang from those that ran free in the Big Horn Mountains. When the Bureau of Land Management thinned the herd, they sold them at auction.

      “She’s really helping me cope…with Alex being gone,” Kylie added. “It’s so odd. I do miss him. Even though I was thinking about leaving him, before we were married we were friends for so many years.”

      When Gwen thought about Alex, she pictured a charming cowboy who’d never grown up. His parents had pampered him. He’d pampered himself. He hadn’t been ready for marriage, not a real marriage where commitment was all-important. Kylie had found that out too late.

      “Have you heard from Brock?” Shaye asked.

      Kylie hesitated a few moments. “He called a few days after the funeral.”

      It was unusual that Kylie hadn’t told them that before now.

      “I had his address in Texas and I called there, leaving a message for him to phone me,” Kylie went on. “He didn’t get it until after the funeral. He was in some jungle looking for oil. It wasn’t until he got back to base camp that he found my message.”

      “Did you tell him you were pregnant?” Gwen asked. Kylie had taken the job as horse trainer at Saddle Ridge when she was seventeen. Since she lived on-site she had run into Alex’s older half brother Brock whenever he had come home from college. Gwen knew that when Kylie was younger, she’d thought Brock Warner had walked on water.

      After a few moments of hesitation, Kylie answered, “Yes, I told him I’m pregnant, and I learned something Alex hadn’t told me.”

      Suspecting there were lots of things Alex hadn’t told his wife, Gwen asked, “What?”

      “Brock’s been divorced for over a year.”

      The silence in the room was filled with Kylie’s sadness. Brock had an Apache heritage and had felt like a second-class citizen at the ranch, especially since Jack Warner had always treated Alex like the golden son. Brock had made his own way as a geologist in Texas.

      “I told Brock everything here was fine. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I need time. I have to get the ranch built up again. It’s my child’s future.”

      “What are you going to do if Brock comes back here and wants you to sell it?” Always the realist, Gwen knew Jack Warner’s will had put Kylie in a pickle. He’d left the ranch to Alex as long as Alex lived there and ran it. If he ever sold it, half the proceeds went to Brock. The same would now apply to Kylie.

      “I really can’t think about that now. I sold the TV,” she said, her hand fluttering toward the place where the screen had once hung. “I’m using that for expenses. I listed the mechanical bull on eBay and I’m hoping I’ll get a good price on it. If I can sell that, it will help me pay the back taxes. The cattle won’t bring in enough this year.”

      “Maybe I can take my vacation after the baby’s born and come out here and help you,” Gwen offered.

      Kylie’s eyes misted with tears and she brushed them away. “Thank you, but we’ll wait and see. If I get a few more horses to board that could make up for the training money I’m losing while I’m pregnant. I can’t risk a fall with this baby to think about.”

      “You still have a stockpile of quilts. You could sell more of those.”

      “I sold a few to buy Feather and to use for vet bills. I’m saving the others for emergencies.”

      One of Kylie’s quilt designs hung on the wall along with photo collages of the Warner family and a…dream catcher. Gwen hadn’t seen that before.

      Taking out a tissue and blowing her nose, Kylie re-pocketed it in her jeans. “So how’s your FBI agent working out?” she asked, obviously tired of being the center of attention.

      “That’s a good question,” Gwen joked. “I haven’t heard from him since Monday and I don’t know if he’s made more progress. I left a message yesterday but he hasn’t returned my call.”

      “And you’re not going to stand for that,” Shaye said with a smile.

      Gwen laughed. “Actually, no, I’m not. I think I’m going to drive out there tonight after I drop you off.”

      “We know you don’t let grass grow under your feet,” Kylie teased.

      No, she didn’t. Tonight she’d be seeing Garrett Maxwell whether he was ready to see her again or not.

      Gwen was hopeful when she spied a small light burning in Garrett’s loft. It had to be the loft from the way the first floor looked simply fuzzy with light. She supposed he could leave it on when he was away. Did men care about walking into a dark house? Maybe if she could understand questions like that, she could understand men.

      She obviously hadn’t understood Mark or she would have seen the signs that he was going to cut and run. The problem was—she’d had a lot of people cut and run from her, without any signs.

      Casting those thoughts aside, she stepped onto the porch and rang the bell. A few moments later she rang it again.

      Suddenly there Garrett was—rumpled, hair tousled, shirt open down the front. He looked as if he’d been…sleeping? The stubble of his beard told her he hadn’t even shaved today.

      At a loss for words, she just stood there and stared.

      “I fell asleep on the couch.”

      Although he might have been asleep when she rang the bell, he was fully alert now.

      “I…uh…you didn’t return my calls.”

      He ran his hand over his face. “I was going to. I got back from a search and rescue around six. I intended to rest on the sofa for a couple minutes, but…” He checked his watch with a luminescent dial. “I guess it’s more like hours than minutes. Come on in.”

      She’d been right about the light in the loft. The living room was hazy with shadows.

      When he strode to a side table, Gwen noticed his feet were bare. He switched on the wrought-iron based lamp. A yellow glow splashed over the rust-colored leather sofa where a wool throw was twisted into a ball.

      Opening her suede jacket, but leaving it on, she sat in the nubby-textured recliner. “Where were you searching?”

      “Near Yellowstone. A boy camping with his family. We found him late this afternoon.”

      “He’s all right?”

      “Shaken up, thirsty and hungry, but he was okay. He’d been missing twenty-four hours and his parents were crazy with worry.”