The Horseman

It is certain there will be no more children. I’m sorry.

Her entire body grew taut, as if she’d taken a blow to the stomach. Pain was a sharp, curved blade cleaving her in two, leaving her helpless and raw, a mortal wound. It wasn’t a roof she needed. It was Dillon. She needed his love, his touch, his tenderness in the night.

His undying regard for her.

She slipped from the covers, careful not to disturb Dillon. He lay on his back, his big body relaxed in sleep. His quiet puff of air as he breathed out was endearing to her. He’d stripped down to the skin, and the midnight gloss of it, a strange luster in the dark night, made her fingertips itch to stroke their way across the delineated lines of his chest. To feel the heat of his skin and the thud of his heart and know this man was hers to love.

She kept close to the wall, where the boards did not squeak or groan beneath her feet. The stairwell was as dark as a coffin as she descended to the first floor, where signs of Dakota’s visit remained-the scent of cigar smoke and the shadow of empty cups on the hearth. Where the brothers had sipped a bit of whiskey and smoked while they talked through the hours.

It was a room where brothers confided in each other, where a husband and wife found contentment in front of a crackling fire. A room where children should run and play in the sunlight, their laughter echoing like happiness.

Her losses felt reopened like wounds scabbed over and newly bleeding. She stumbled into the kitchen and to the door, where her coat hung neatly on a peg. As if it belonged there, next to Dillon’s, hung up and ready to wear on his early-morning chores.

Blindly she jammed her arms into the sleeves of her coat and stumbled outside. The frigid wind sliced through her few layers, straight through her skin to her bones.

Good. She had to stop feeling. She wanted to be like the winter, numb, silent and cloaked with forgetfulness. It hurt too much to do anything else. And what was she going to do? Wake up Dillon from a sound sleep and tell him she was the reason he would never have a son?

Pain cracked her open, left her wounded, left her bleeding. She headed out into the prairie, and let the cold and the darkness claim her.

Katelyn? Dillon woke with a start and saw the pillow beside him empty. The sheets where she should be lying were cool. Where was she?

Probably downstairs. He heard the stove lid rattle, and his fear ebbed. Katelyn was lighting the morning fire, he figured. He had to stop expecting her to change her mind. To find him wanting.

Hadn’t she held him? Reached up to kiss him? They were a part of each other now. Husband and wife. Lovers and friends. Of one flesh. And he hated to think of her working so hard, when she still needed to take good care of herself. The doc had been clear about his orders. Katelyn had to take it easy for some time to come. She’d done far too much around the house yesterday.

What she needed was a little rest and relaxation. Maybe she would feel up to a trip into town. He wanted to get a look at the last-minute additions at the county auction. It was a good excuse to take the sleigh into town and treat Katelyn to a nice lunch at the diner of her choice and a shopping trip. He’d even go along to hold her packages.

That was proof of a man’s pure adoration.

He yanked on his Levi’s and tugged on his shirt, buttoning it as he rushed downstairs. He didn’t know why he felt a need to tell her his plans. Something was troubling him, and he couldn’t put his thumb on it. Couldn’t name the odd, jittery anxiety snapping in the dead center of his gut.

The kitchen was empty. A fledging fire snapped and crackled in the stove’s belly. The lamp in the center of the table had been filled with oil and cast a bright light to guide him to the door, where the peg next to his was empty. Where had she gone? He grabbed his coat and, on the edge of panic, skidded outside into the frosty morning.

Where had she gone? He followed the small imprint of her shoes on the frosted crust of the snow to the stable. There, just beyond the paddock where the stallion watched, a dark figure in the shadows spread grain from a small silver pail for the five deer in a half circle around her.

Her back was to him, and the delicate shape of her affected him more fiercely than ever before. How could it be that every time he looked at this woman, he desired her more? Thought her more beautiful? More sensual? More amazing?

As if she felt his presence, she stiffened. Turned. How pale she looked. Big circles bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes. She wasn’t feeling well. It troubled him. He should have made sure she didn’t feel obligated to do too much too soon. Well, he’d take care of her. He always would.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Her smile was tentative. Shadows darkened her angel’s eyes. He took the empty pail from her mittened hands and gave her a kiss to warm her to her toes.

The same way she warmed him.

It should have been a beautiful day, but it wasn’t, Katelyn realized. Seated beside Dillon in the snug little sleigh skimming the snow behind a matched set of black-and-white pintos should have been the most exhilarating ride of her life. It wasn’t.

Was there any way he would want her when she told him the truth? Their love was so new. It wasn’t as if they’d spent years together and their bond had been strengthened by time and familiarity. No, her husband of many years had been able to cast her aside. How easy would it be for Dillon?

“I’ve got to swing by the stockyard.” Dillon broke the silence as the prairie road gave way to the first signs of town. “You want me to drop you off at the dress shop?”

“That sounds wonderful. I need a few things.”

“You make sure you get whatever you want. I got you some clothes, but that was only meant to get you by. You need more than you have.”

“No, I have all I need.”

“Me, too.”

He snuggled her close, drawing her against him, his arm a pleasant weight on her shoulder.

Her generous, loving husband, who had vowed to always stand by her. To always love her.

What if he knew the truth? Would he still want her?

The main street of town was crowded with horse-drawn sleighs and various sleds. Folks had come in from all over the county because of the auction, Dillon explained as he drew the horses to a slow walk behind a loaded teamster’s enormous sled stacked high with crates.

Katelyn was grateful for the chaos. Dillon was kept busy as out-of-town drivers rode through intersections or stopped in the middle of the street to look around and get their bearings. He was too preoccupied to wonder why she was so quiet.

She should just tell him. Say it very matter-of-factly. Open her mouth and let the words roll off her tongue. Dillon, I can’t have children. Will you still love me anyway?

Her stomach clenched tight. A blurry, agonizing memory shot into her head. Of Brett hauling her to the door, his fingers biting into the soft skin of her upper arm. Angry, so angry. And she’d felt so worthless…

No, don’t remember. She squeezed her heart closed, like the lid on a too-full trunk, and did her best to lock it up tight before any other painful images popped out.

Dillon wasn’t Brett. She knew that. Dillon was an incredible man of integrity, everything that Brett was not. But the truth remained, cold and harsh and as unchangeable as the season. As the dirty, beaten-down snow on the street in front of them. Every man wanted a son.

“I can’t believe our luck.” Dillon drew the team to a halt and waited while an ox-drawn sled skimmed away from the hitching post. “Right in front of the dress shop.”

Maybe there was a chance he would want her. He was the most steady and loving man she’d ever known. He accepted her flaws and her less-than-perfect cooking with that easy, lopsided grin of his. Maybe he would still love her. Maybe he would still love her the same way.

As if she were a princess, he took her hand and helped her from the sleigh. He walked by her side up the slick wooden steps, opened the door for her as the overhead bell tinkled and introduced her to the seamstress.

“Have a good time shopping. I know it’s what you women like to do.” With an approving grin, he laid his palm to her face and kissed her in public, to the sigh of the seamstress and a few nearby shoppers.

He strode away as regal as any prince. A noble, worthy man who deserved to have the son he wanted.