boots made a sucking sound as she led the horse through the pasture. Spring and early summer was rainy season in Montana. It was great for the soil and the vegetation, but terrible for her long, straight hair, which she kept tucked up under her taupe cowboy hat to try to avoid the frizzies.
When she reached the rough-hewn log fence, she leaned against it and took in the blessings before her eyes.
She had her own home on the huge Broward family homestead, complete with a large stable and plenty of pasture for her horses to graze. The white square-shaped clapboard farmhouse, circa 1930, was just the right size and suited her ideal of “organized simplicity.” Beyond, prairie grasses swayed gently as far as she could see. Farther still, a ridge of mountains jutted against the blue sky.
But it was the air she loved the most. Breathe in clean, fresh Montana air and everything seemed right again. At least for a little while.
Laney unhitched the fence gate and led Stella Rose out of the paddock. She was almost inside the barn when she heard tires crunching on the long gravel driveway.
She looked up and saw Brooke approaching. Everyone she knew in Granger had a truck or an SUV and at least one horse. Brooke had all three, plus a Jeep, the vehicle that she was slowly driving into the clearing just to the left of the stable.
“Hey,” Laney called out, patting her waist. Even though she was wearing jeans one size larger, she was oddly relieved that there was barely a bulge. It had become a habit to check and she was glad to know that even this far along, she still wasn’t showing.
Keeping a firm grip on the reins, she drew Stella Rose to one side and patted her nose with her other hand to calm her. Although with her ranch hands coming and going, the horse was used to cars in close proximity, Laney wasn’t taking any chances. Horses startled easily, sometimes for reasons that only they knew.
Brooke exited the car. “Hay is for horses,” she quipped, tossing her long curls over her shoulder.
Laney rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha. You creative types have the corniest sense of humor.”
Brooke, in jeans and an oversize yellow button-down shirt with a clay stain on it, put her hands on her slim hips. “That reminds me. Did I ever tell you the one about the elderly printmaker and the nude model?”
Laney held up her hand. “No, and please don’t. I’m pregnant, remember? My stomach is very sensitive.”
She loosened the cinch that secured the saddle. “Now enough with the jokes. Come help me get Stella Rose settled. She and I just finished a nice ride. It’ll be our last...until the baby comes.”
At the thought of not riding her horses for another five months, something welled up in her throat. The further along she got in her pregnancy, the more risks there were with riding, and at her last visit, her doctor had ordered her to stop.
Her eyes burned with tears and she turned so Brooke couldn’t see her face as she led Stella Rose away.
Riding was her life, and although the safety of her baby was her number one priority now, the sacrifice still hurt. She just needed some time to get used to it.
Back in the stall, Brooke’s hazel eyes flitted down to her abdomen. Laney wanted to squirm with unease. She guessed she’d have to get used to people looking at her stomach all the time, too.
She led Stella Rose into her stall, unbridled her and put on her halter.
Brooke followed. “Is everything okay? I haven’t seen you in a while and I’ve been worried.”
Laney took off Stella Rose’s cinch and hung it on a hook outside the stall, warming at the sentiment. Her initial reaction to Brooke’s sudden marriage to Jameson had not been positive. However, she’d lived up to her role as the “neutral” and “quiet” one in the Broward family and had not said a word.
Now she was glad she hadn’t voiced her opinion. If she had, she and Brooke would not be on their way to becoming good friends.
Laney nodded. “Yes, I saw my OB-GYN last week and he says everything looks good.”
“I’ll say it is. You’re not even showing yet,” Brooke said, admiringly.
For Laney, not showing early in her pregnancy was a blessing. It had given her some time to try to figure things out, without her family poking their noses into her life. Unfortunately, her answers only led to more difficult questions. One of which was how in the world was she going to raise her child alone?
“Yet is the operative word,” Laney emphasized. “The doctor says I could start to pop at any time.”
“Even so, I hope when I get pregnant, I’ll be as lucky and as beautiful as you are.”
Laney blushed and laughed. “Thanks. And I’m hoping to be an auntie sooner, rather than later.”
Brooke looked away, as if she were embarrassed. “I’ll get back to you on that. Jameson and I are just enjoying being a married couple right now. Throwing children into the mix would only complicate things.”
“Tell me about it,” Laney muttered.
In an instant, she felt ashamed at her statement. Although she was starting to get more excited about the baby as the days went on, she still felt guilty about keeping the little one a secret from her family for so long.
As for Austin, he was too busy traveling the world to even care about what was happening with her, not to mention the town of Granger.
Just last week, her father, Steven Broward, the most powerful man in Granger and one of the wealthiest in the state, mentioned that he had emailed Austin a few newspaper articles about all the land grabbing that was going on in Granger. Laney wasn’t at all surprised that her father had yet to receive a response.
Of course, Laney knew that not answering an email did not mean that Austin was unfit to be a parent. That would be ludicrous. But it did speak volumes about how easy it was for Austin to ignore her father, even though he had conducted business with the Broward family.
Or maybe Austin was trying to send the message that the Browards themselves didn’t matter, neither did the land grabbers and least of all, Laney. Although he’d contacted her a few times the week after their evening together, she hadn’t heard from him since.
Laney took off Stella Rose’s saddle and handed it to Brooke.
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I’m happy about the baby. It’s just that—”
“Nobody can blame you for being upset,” Brooke interrupted. She wiped the saddle down with a towel before placing it on a shelf. “You’re going to be a single mom. That’s a situation that would be difficult for anyone to face.”
Laney took off the saddle blanket. It was a little damp from the ride, so she hung it over the stall door to dry.
She sighed. “Yeah. I’m dealing with things the best I can.”
In truth, Laney was scared to death, but she tried not to think about it. If she did, she would never be able to gain enough courage to tell her family.
Laney grabbed
