happened with you and David?”
“He was fixing a flat tire for me at his uncle’s gas station—”
“Wait a minute. How old were you?”
“Not old enough to have my license, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“You stole the car?”
“Borrowed it from Aiden. He was too busy running the ranch and learning how to pilot his chopper to be worried about me.” She rolled her eyes. “Geez, Tab. I started driving around on the ranch as soon as I was big enough to see over the steering wheel. You know how it is.”
“I do.” Tab had attended high school in Billings—a city where regulations were enforced. Though Henley was less than fifty miles away, she knew that different rules applied. “So, you and David were at the gas station. Then what?”
“We got to talking. I barely knew him. He was really shy and quiet, didn’t play football or basketball. But he had a real cute smile.”
“And you started flirting.”
“He bought me an orange soda.” She giggled. “He asked me out, too. But I turned him down.”
“Why?”
“When he bought the soda, I could cross him off my list. And he was nice, you know. I didn’t want to lead him on.”
Tab was glad to hear that Misty had a conscience, after all. “Who won the bet?”
“Nobody. We all found boyfriends, and we didn’t want to be with anybody else. It’s funny, you know. I probably never would have gone out with Clinton if it hadn’t been for that bet. And now, he’s my baby’s daddy.”
“And you’re happy about that?”
“You bet I am.” Misty positioned herself on the blanket with her legs tucked under. With her pregnant belly, she looked like a blond Buddha. “This is a nice, thick blanket. Why did you bring it along?”
“When you first called and said you were in labor, I thought I might be delivering your baby out here.”
“Oh. My. God. That is so totally not sanitary.”
Tab didn’t bother with a long, thoughtful explanation about how childbirth was a natural process not an illness that required hospitalization. Midwifery was her lifework, and she didn’t feel a need to justify her profession. Some people got it. Others didn’t.
“My ancestors have been having babies without hospitals for a very long time. So have yours.”
“I guess you’re right. The Gabriels have been ranching in this area since the early 1900s. I don’t guess there were many hospitals back then.”
An accurate assumption, but Tab was fairly certain that Misty’s great-grandmother had the best care that money could buy. The Gabriels had a history of wealth and power that held true to the present day. Their cattle ranch provided employment for many people in the area. The family reputation might work in Misty’s favor when it came to murder charges, but Tab suspected that there were those who resented the Gabriel clan and would take perverse pleasure in seeing Misty behind bars.
“I want to talk to you about stress,” Tab said.
“Okay.”
“When you’re pregnant,” Tab said, “it’s not good for you to be under a lot of stress. That means it’s not good for your baby, either.”
“What can I do? Is there some kind of herb I can take?”
Many natural remedies were used to encourage labor, but Misty wasn’t at that point. “You’re already taking prenatal vitamins, right? And probably extra iron.”
Misty bobbed her head. “And I’m drinking herbal teas, mostly chamomile. I like doing organic stuff. I made Clinton take a class on natural childbirth that they were teaching at the hospital in Henley.”
“Good for you.” Tab squatted at the edge of the blanket and opened the plastic container she’d brought from her saddlebags. “Those breathing techniques are also useful for dealing with stress. Concentrate on inhaling and exhaling. Do you ever meditate?”
“You mean like yoga? Nope, that’s not my thing.”
“What helps you slow down and relax?” Tab assumed from Misty’s confused expression that slowing down wasn’t part of her agenda. “How about music? Do you listen to music?”
“All the time.” She dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny player attached to ear buds. “Mostly country and western. Is that unstressful?”
“Better than heavy metal,” Tab said. “When you feel yourself getting tight inside, just plug in your music, close your eyes and tune out all the other distractions.”
From the plastic container, she unpacked a simple picnic of crackers, cheese, jerky, an apple and a six-pack of bottled water. Misty pounced on the jerky. “You’re a mind reader, Tab. I was starving.”
Working with pregnant women taught her that she couldn’t go wrong with healthy snacks. “Dig in before the guys figure out that there’s food over here.”
Aiden’s effort to get the Jeep unstuck had deteriorated to walking about the vehicle, scratching his head and scowling. Clinton was doing much the same. Very likely, they’d come to the conclusion that when the sheriff got here, they could hook up a winch.
Sitting back on her heels, Tab watched as Misty devoured a chunk of jerky, took a huge swig from the water bottle and gave a loud burp followed by a giggle. “Sorry,” Misty said. “That was gross.”
“A little bit.”
“My body keeps doing this weird stuff. I have to pee all the time.”
“Can you feel the baby kicking?”
“I can.” A happy smile brightened her face. “That part is really cool.”
Tab was reminded of the seven-year-old she used to babysit. That summer had been rough on the girl. Not only had she lost her father, but her mother had been so devastated that she could barely drag herself out of bed. And Aiden had been preoccupied with the day-to-day operations at the ranch. Throughout, Misty maintained a relentlessly cheerful attitude to hide her pain and vulnerability.
“I wish I could stay here and wait with you,” Tab said, “but I need to leave soon.”
Misty nodded as she screwed the top back onto the water bottle. When she looked up, her eyes were troubled. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Am I going to jail?”
Tab couldn’t promise a good outcome. Even if Misty was completely innocent, there were no guarantees. “I don’t know.”
AN HOUR LATER, THE SUN dipped low in the western sky. None of the law enforcement people had yet arrived
