Montana Mistletoe Baby. Patricia Johns

glutton for punishment, but he’d never imagined that she had ended up just as jaded as he had.

      “I have to tell you, Curtis,” his aunt went on, “the gossip has been vicious about Barrie.”

      “She isn’t the first person to have a child outside wedlock in this town,” he pointed out.

      “No, she isn’t,” Betty confirmed. “But she won’t say who the father is, and people’s imaginations can come up with a whole lot more scandal than is probably the case.”

      “Like what?” he asked.

      “Some suggest she’s had an affair with a married guy around town. I know one woman who has an itemized list on why she’s confident that the mayor is the father. Others say she’s given up on finding love and went to a sperm clinic—” Betty paused. “Does it even matter? My point is that this isn’t an easy time for Barrie. And maybe you could...consider all of that.”

      “When selling the building, you mean,” he clarified.

      “Yes.”

      “Aunty,” he said slowly. “If I’m going to buy that stud farm, then I’m on a timeline. I need to liquidate and come up with my half of the down payment by Christmas Eve, or the deal is off. I feel for Barrie—losing her mom, all of it—but we’ve been researching this business venture for two years now, and this sale is not only an excellent price, but it would be a future away from bull riding. This is no whim—it’s a plan.”

      “I know that,” his aunt replied.

      “So you can see that I don’t have a lot of options here,” he said. “Barrie has her practice. She’s built a life for herself. It’s been tough—I can see that—but she’s got a life put together. I have to do the same thing.”

      Betty sighed. “I know. I just... Be as kind as possible, okay?”

      “I’ll do my best.”

      But what his aunt expected of him, he had no idea. None of this was his fault. If he didn’t invest in something soon, he wouldn’t be able to provide for anyone, let alone himself. If he didn’t sort out his own life, no one else was going to do it for him.

      Except providing for someone else hadn’t even entered his mind until this moment...and along with the thought was an image of pregnant Barrie. He pushed it back—Barrie wasn’t his to worry about anymore. Besides, while she’d lost her mom, she had the whole town of Hope to back her up. The locals might enjoy some salacious gossip, but when it came right down to it, they took care of their own. He ate his last bite and rose to his feet.

      “I’ve got more cattle to check on,” he said. “Thanks for dinner. Delicious as always.”

      “Thanks for helping out,” Betty replied. “I mean that, Curtis. From the bottom of my heart.”

      Curtis wiped his mouth with a napkin and deposited the plate in the kitchen sink. Shooting his aunt a grin, he headed for the door.

      Barrie was independent. She’d fought him every day of their marriage and then proceeded to get her education and build a veterinary practice on her own. She was a force to be reckoned with, and while he understood his aunt’s concern about Barrie right now, he’d be smart to follow his carefully laid plans and start a life away from the circuit. That’s what Barrie had always wanted him to do, wasn’t it? And she’d been right. Better late than never.

      He stepped into his boots and looked out at the ranch truck, snow accumulating over the hood in a smooth sheet. Snow was floating down in big fluffy flakes, and his mind was skipping ahead to the cattle. Curtis pushed his hat onto his head and trudged out into the cold.

      Short days and long nights. This time of year brought the solstice, the shortest, coldest days before daylight started pushing back once more...

      He glanced over his shoulder at the cheery glow of indoor lights shining through the windows. He was back in Hope for Christmas, and it wasn’t going to be a cheery homecoming. But he’d get through it and hold out for spring and new beginnings.

      * * *

      THE NEXT MORNING, Barrie awoke three minutes before her alarm went off...and her feet were already sore. Her Great Dane, Miley, stood at her bedside, soulful eyes fixed on her. She’d never had trouble with her feet before, but pregnancy seemed to be changing the rules on her, and she hated that. When she’d first found out that she was pregnant, she’d promised herself nothing needed to change until the baby actually arrived. Some women nested when they were pregnant, but Barrie was going to control that instinct. These last few months would allow her to build up her practice enough that after the baby came she could scale back to clinic hours only, cut out the after-hours emergency calls and still keep her business afloat. But her body seemed to have other ideas.

      “Morning, Miley,” she said, reaching from under her cozy comforter to give the massive dog an affectionate ear scratch. He’d started out as a regular-sized puppy with paws like dinner plates, and he’d grown past even ordinary Great Dane proportions. He was a huge, jowly, slate-gray lap dog—at least, that’s how he saw himself. He was a big baby, and absolutely worthless as a guard dog, but she loved him.

      Barrie rolled out of bed and ran her hand over her belly. The baby stretched inside her. She didn’t know if she was having a boy or a girl yet. She’d tried to find out at her last ultrasound, but the baby’s legs were firmly crossed. She’d try to find out again—planning was key, and she didn’t have the luxury of sweet surprises.

      She pulled her bathrobe around her body and cinched it above her belly. She was ever growing, and as she passed her full-length mirror before she padded out into the hallway, she caught a glimpse of a rounded, bed-headed stranger with a colt-sized dog trailing after her. There was no getting used to this, but she did enjoy it. She’d always wanted kids—the nonfurry kind—and while the timing wasn’t great, she was finally going to be a mother. It wasn’t quite how she’d imagined it happening... At least she’d get a chance at motherhood, and still being single at the age of thirty-seven, she’d started to give up hope.

      Barrie lived in a single-level ranch house on the north end of Hope. She looked out her kitchen window at the pristine snow from last night’s storm. The neighbor kid she paid to shovel her driveway was already at it, metal scraping against asphalt. This morning, she had plans to organize her presentation for Hope’s 4-H club. She’d been invited to speak about a woman’s contribution to agriculture, and that was a subject Barrie was passionate about. Girls needed encouragement to step out and become leaders in ranching and animal care. If there was one thing Barrie knew, it was that a woman couldn’t wait for a man to define her future.

      “You hungry, Miley?” She pulled down his food dish—which was really a medium-sized mixing bowl—took out the bag of dog food and filled the bowl to the top. Miley hopped up, paws on the counter, and snuffled his nose toward the bag.

      “Miley!” she said reproachfully, and he dropped back down to the floor. He didn’t need his paws on the counter to see over it. When she put his bowl on the floor, he immediately dropped his face into it and started to gobble.

      While Miley ate, she headed to the fridge to find her own breakfast. She felt just about as hungry as the dog. She grabbed a bag of bagels from the fridge and a tub of cream cheese. Then her cell phone rang, and she picked it up from the counter and punched the speaker button.

      “Dr. Jones, veterinary medicine,” she said.

      “Barrie?” She knew his voice right away, and she froze in the middle of cutting a bagel. Why did he have to sound like the same old Curtis? Her heart clenched, and she had to remind herself to exhale. Miley looked over at her, sensing her tension, no doubt.

      “Curtis,” she said, resuming what she was doing and attempting to keep her voice casual. “Everything okay over there?”

      “We have another sick cow.”

      Bovine respiratory disease could spread quickly in the right conditions, and it could decimate a