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want. What happens if the snow gives way under you, and you go tumbling? How
safe is our son then? Trey demanded, then abruptly sighed. I don t know why
we re even arguing about this. They aren t going to hire you when they find
out you re pregnant. They won t want to expose themselves to that kind of
liability.
I suppose you re going to tell them. She glared in accusation.
Trey cocked his head to one side, his gaze cool and hard. Weren t you?
Her chin dipped slightly down, her gaze faltering under his steady regard.
Then once again her chin was up and out, her eyes returning his look, stare
for stare. Of course I was. And you re right. They probably will want someone
else.
He saw the bitterness of regret in the tight way her lips were pressed
together. You still want to do it, don t you? Even though you know there s a
risk something could happen to our baby.
Life is a risk. But her hands spread protectively over her stomach. But I
don t think I could ever forgive myself if something did happen. It isn t easy
to pass up an opportunity like this, though. It s exactly the kind of thing I
love doing. I wish you could understand that.
But he couldn t. He doubted that he ever would. Still, he gathered her loosely
in his arms and pressed a kiss on her forehead. I m sorry, Trey apologized
for his lack of understanding.
Thanks. She managed a small but grateful smile. There ll be other chances,
though, after the baby s born.
Trey realized that Sloan thought he was sorry that it had been necessary to
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turn down this opportunity. Wisely, he didn t bother to correct her.
I d better get back out there, he told her. We ll be loading in the dark as
it is. You ll be careful driving home, won t you?
Just call that truck a turtle, Sloan promised.
After a parting kiss that lengthened into something more than a farewell peck,
they went their separate ways, Sloan to the pickup that would take her back to
The Homestead and Trey to the picket line, where a fresh horse waited for him.
For both of them, the memory of their brief but heated disagreement was
relegated to a back corner of their minds.
The rain continued on and off for another week, prolonging the fall roundup by
an equal amount of time. By the time the sun came out, every river and creek
on the Triple C was running full, and fresh hints of green could be seen in
the autumn grasses.
The rain had rejuvenated more than just the land and its watercourses. With
the long dry spell behind them, men walked with more spring to their step. The
smell of winter was in the air, but no one minded now that the land was
healthy and strong again.
For once, the road ahead looked smooth. An easy contentment was in the air.
With the roundup over, autumn s last chore was underway the trailing of the
horse remuda to its winter range.
Minutes after the flanking riders succeeded in getting the herd lined out and
moving in the right direction, a helicopter swooped toward the airport s
landing pad, and all hell broke loose. Every man on the drive cursed the
culprit by name as they raced after the spooked horses.
Not long after the helicopter landed, the front door opened and Tara swept
into The Homestead, a sable coat flaring about her legs. Anticipating her
arrival, Cat was already on hand to greet her.
This is a surprise, Tara. You rarely come to Montana at this time of year.
What s the occasion? Cat wondered.
Obviously it s a special one, Tara stated as she tugged off her gloves, one
finger at a time, and regarded Cat with a glance dark with rebuke.
Why? What have I done? Cat said in all innocence.
It s what you didn t do, and you know it. Gloves in hand and head held high
in offended dignity, Tara sailed past her into the living room. I probably
shouldn t even be speaking to you.
With a roll of her eyes and a despairing shake of her head, Cat followed after
her. Please spare me the theatrics, Tara. I swear you get more dramatic with
each passing year, she said with impatience. Just tell me what it is that I
am supposed to have done.
It s what you didn t do, Tara corrected as she slipped off the sable,
depositing it on the sofa with a graceful toss. Honestly, Cat, you are the
nearest thing I have to a little sister. But do I hear from you that Trey s
bride is carrying Ty s first grandchild? No. Who knows when I would have been
told if I hadn t stopped to see Laura on my way back from Europe?
Wonderful news, isn t it? Cat deliberately refrained from offering any
excuses for not contacting Tara.
The best. And it s going to be a boy, too. Just imagine a little Ty Junior
running around here.
This old house is liable to become a lively place in the next few years, Cat
agreed.
Where is the little mother? Tara s gaze made a curious circle of the living
room and its exits.
Upstairs, I think.
Tara pressed a hand near her throat and made an attractive moue of sympathy.
Morning sickness, of course. The poor thing.
Actually, Sloan s one of the lucky ones. She hasn t had a single bout of
nausea. About the only thing that makes her queasy is the smell of coffee.
Speaking of coffee, I d love a cup. Pausing, Tara looked toward the
staircase. But first I should go up and congratulate our mother-to-be. You go
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ahead and make some fresh coffee. I won t be long.
My pleasure.
The underlying tone of sarcasm in Cat s voice was lost on Tara as she crossed
to the oak stairway and began her ascent, one hand maintaining a graceful
glide over the smooth banister.
When she arrived at the master suite, she rapped lightly on the door and
turned its brass knob in advance of the voice within bidding her to enter. By
then, Tara was halfway into the sitting room. Her eyes were quick to locate
Sloan, seated on the edge of the sofa cushion, a multitude of photographs
spread across the coffee table in front of her.
Rising, Sloan greeted her with a polite smile. Hello, Tara. I thought I heard
a helicopter a few minutes ago. Obviously it was you.
I flew in as soon as I heard the blessed news. She walked straight to Sloan
and kissed the air near both cheeks, then drew back to run a critically
assessing eye over Sloan s figure, finding only a small, betraying pooch of
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