Always Dakota - Debbie Macomber [111]
“I agree with you. She’s ready. I feel the hooves and the nose. As soon as they show, we’ll put the rope to use.”
The birth proved to be even more difficult than Margaret had anticipated. Soon after the calf’s hooves emerged, they looped the rope around the front legs. Down on her knees with Matt, Margaret tugged and pulled, employing every ounce of strength she had. By the time the calf slid free of his mother, Margaret’s arms ached and her face burned with exertion.
She had just started to rise when the first cramp hit her. An involuntary yelp escaped and she doubled over, cradling her stomach.
“Margaret!” Right away Matt was there.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She slumped onto a bale of hay until she could assess what was happening. It didn’t take long to realize she’d strained a muscle.
“Is it the baby?”
“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”
“There’s something wrong. You’re pale as a ghost,” Matt argued.
“I said I was fine,” she fired back.
“You’re in pain.”
Now that was a laugh. The man who’d broken her heart was concerned because she had a stomach cramp.
“Dammit, Margaret, you can’t be doing this kind of physical labor. Not when you’re pregnant.”
The man had his nerve. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please!”
“You can be angry with me if you want, but I can’t allow you to do anything that’ll hurt our baby.”
“Like I’d intentionally do such a thing.” Did he think she was an idiot?
“You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”
Margaret opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. It wasn’t outrage she saw in Matt’s eyes, but love and concern. He’d been gone a week, seven days in which she’d had time to consider her options. Time to decide what was important. Time to consider her future and that of her child.
“Be angry if you want,” he said again, “but you can’t do everything by yourself. You need me.”
“The hell I do!” Her response was automatic, her voice sharp.
“Okay, you don’t need me,” he countered just as sharply. “I’m the one who needs you. Hear me out and if you want me to leave afterward, I will.”
“All right.”
He sat on a bale across from her. “I’ve been with quite a few women over the years. I’m not proud of this, and I don’t think it comes as any surprise.”
She’d known the kind of man he was when she married him, but she hadn’t understood exactly what that meant. She hadn’t realized that he couldn’t completely escape his history—as Sheryl had proven.
“You married me because I had something to offer that those other women didn’t—my land and the cattle,” she threw out angrily. “And because I believed in you, or so you’ve said.”
“Yes,” he said, equally angry. “But dammit, Margaret, there’s more. You got to me. You’re the finest cattlewoman I know. The finest rancher, period. No one’s better at managing a herd than you, and I respect that. You’re attractive and you’re smart and you have character. Okay, so you’re no beauty queen. I’m not interested in pretty, shallow girls—they’re a dime a dozen. But there’s only one you.”
The intensity of his words, his eyes, told her he spoke with sincerity.
“There’s something else you should know. Every other woman I’ve ever loved, I’ve loved from below the waist, if you know what I mean. But I love you with every part of me—my heart, my mind, my body.”
“Oh, Matt,” she whispered and slid off the bale of hay onto her knees. He knelt, too, facing her.
He reached for her and she all but fell into his arms. His mouth sought hers and they kissed with the desperation of two people who’d experienced despair…and renewal.
Their kisses were deep and long. The new calf mewled softly and his mother nuzzled her offspring while Margaret clung to her husband. When they broke apart, there were tears on her cheeks. Matt kissed them away, his tenderness profound. He’d said exactly what she’d been longing to hear.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be back,” she whispered brokenly.
“I wasn’t, either, but I couldn’t give up on us. I thought, I hoped, that