One to Take (One to Hold 8)

Mariska wades through the tall grasses in a flowing green skirt and long-sleeved tunic top. She rests a hand on her pregnant stomach as she picks a yellow flower and twirls it in her fingers. Her hair is to her shoulders now in beautiful waves, and she wears a garland of white flowers like a headband.

It’s late April, and while she looks like she could go any day now, the doctor calculated her due date as mid-May, which means we made the little guy shortly after we returned to Great Falls, possibly that night by the campfire.

Had I known she was expecting Stuart William Junior, I’d never have let her ride with me to track down and capture Jessie, much less help me train and finally tame that spirited horse. We’ve been a lot more careful ever since. As much as Mariska fights me, I can’t help being extra protective of her at this time.

Now Jessie is part of our herd, and she is the calmest horse on the place. Running away and spending a few months fending for herself was good medicine for that wild horse. When I trained her, she picked up almost exactly where we left off in the process, and doesn’t seem to be like her mother, which is a good thing.

Mariska looks up and sees me watching her, and a brilliant white smile spreads across her beautiful face. I can’t believe there was a time I didn’t think she belonged here. She’s made a place for herself in this wilderness. She and Winona spent the long winter days when we couldn’t leave the house exchanging stories of their heritage and beliefs. Winona has done more talking since we’ve taken over than she did in all the days I’ve known her. She’s become like a surrogate grandmother for Mariska.

I spent the winter months planning and talking to the other ranchers and my uncle. In the spring I’m going to bring more horses on the place, and Mariska wants to start a therapy program for mentally disabled kids. It’s something she learned about at UGF—equine therapy. She also wants to add her art to the mix.

By this time next year, I expect the place will be up and running and alive with animals and children and good things coming out of loss or disability.

Last night, as she lay in my arms, we’d spread our hands over her swollen belly and talked about the past and the future.

“I thought for a time I might never have you again,” I confessed. “Everyone kept saying I was like my dad, and as much as I didn’t want to be true, it seemed like they were right. I decided it was better to let you go. I saw what he did to my mom, how unhappy she was.”

Mariska laced our fingers together and pulled them to her lips for a kiss. “Your mother once told me you are a lot like your father, but you’re also half of her.”

“Bill said I’m all me, and if I wanted you back, I should go and get you. It was the best advice I’ve ever gotten.”

She squirmed around as best as she could with her stomach so extended. When our eyes met, that golden hazel glowed like the sunset. “Have I ever told you I love your uncle?”

I chuckled and kissed her turned-up nose. “About a million times.”

With a little sigh, her smile faded. “Losing Jessica then losing you then finding out all those things about my past… I didn’t know who I was anymore. I cut my hair and changed my wardrobe. I couldn’t bear seeing myself the way I’d been with you. I stopped believing.” Her slim arms slid around my neck, and I leaned down to place my lips to hers. “Then you came back, and the shield I’d put up around my heart began to crack.”

My eyes narrowed and I caught hers. “It’s a good thing I was feeling so bad about myself when I saw you with that other guy… I was hurt and angry and ready to punch somebody in the face.”

“You’re such a caveman,” she laughed. “Poor Pete.”

“He would’ve been poor messed-up Pete if I hadn’t been worried you wouldn’t forgive me.”

She pulled my face to hers then, and we w

ere lost in a passionate kiss, which naturally led to other things.

I’m smiling, thinking of holding her in my arms when I see her grasp the bottom of her stomach. The flower drops from her hand, and her eyes flash to mine, round and worried. I’m over the fence and running to her side before she can even finish saying “My water broke!”

In a sweep she’s in my arms, and I’m running to the truck.

“My skirt! I’m all wet!” she cries, trying to get out of my arms. “Let me go inside and get my suitcase!”

“I’ll come back for it.” Reaching for the visor, I open it and the silver keys hit my lap. I jam it into the ignition when she leans forward, both hands on the dash and lets out the most inhuman groan I’ve ever heard.

“Shit, Mariska…” My fucking stomach slams to my feet, and I throw the truck into reverse before skidding out of the yard onto the two-lane road leaving a cloud of dust and rocks in our wake.

“Stuart…” Her eyes are closed, and her face is white. A sheen of sweat coats her upper lip, and fear clenches my chest.

“Are you okay?” She’s too early, and the thought that something could go wrong, the notion that we might lose this one, has me on edge.

“We’re going to make it,” she gasps, but her fingers are white on the dash, and her eyes squeeze shut as she lets out another little cry of pain. “Just keep driving. Be careful!”

I press the accelerator harder. “Hold on.”

It’s the only bad thing about where we live—we’re miles from the nearest hospital. My mind struggles to stay focused and rational as she lets out another long wail from the passenger’s seat. My palms slide on the steering wheel, and I almost shout when we finally get in the city limits.

Flashers on, I treat every red light like a four-way stop, until finally we’re pulling into the circular emergency drive. I throw the truck in park and hop out. Mariska’s still moaning and now she’s trembling. She’s in my arms, and I charge through the automatic doors like I’m carrying her from a war zone.