her. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in the urgency with which he cast their clothes aside. Cassie gazed up at him, filled with the wonder that this virile man would soon be her husband.
* * *
Two days later, Cassie squirmed in the hard, plastic chair.
Dr. Jordan, a man in his fifties with glossy white hair and small, even features, stared at Cassie over the tops of his glasses. He was seated behind his desk, his fingers toying with the edge of her medical chart. “The lab results are back. You’re not pregnant.”
Cassie froze. “Not pregnant?” she repeated, disbelieving.
“Your test was negative. This should be good news,” the doctor said, though obviously from his expression he could see the disappointment on her face.
“There must be some mistake—”
“No mistake, Cassie.”
“But I’ve been sick and my period is late!”
“You probably had the flu, and sometimes that can affect your cycle.”
“No . . .”
The doctor smiled. “You’ve got plenty of time.”
Did she? She felt as if all the sand in her hourglass had just slipped through her fingers.
As she walked outside, a warm summer breeze caressed her face and tugged at her hair. Overhead, leaves turned in the wind and squirrels chattered and raced nimbly through the branches. The air felt fresh and clean, but she felt cold inside. What would happen now? How could she tell Colton that she’d been wrong?
She wrapped her arms around her waist as she walked along the dusty sidewalk. She tried not to notice young mothers pushing strollers or a happy couple, obviously in love, sneaking kisses in the park.
Walking past a boutique, she eyed a lace wedding dress in the window. Would Colton still want to marry her? Two doors down she paused at the only children’s store in Three Falls. Her throat went dry. Rattles and blankets and sleepers in a rainbow of pastels were strewn around a bare wooden rocking horse with glass eyes and a hemp mane and tail.
“Maybe someday,” she whispered, her fingers trailing over the glass. She strolled into the store and touched the soft clothing and adorable stuffed animals until she could stand the self-inflicted torture no longer.
“Fool,” she whispered to herself as she drove home, squinting against the lowering sun. Knowing she had to tell Colton the truth, she drove straight to the lane leading to the McLean Ranch, but at the last minute she changed her mind and sped past the gravel drive. What would she say? What if Denver answered the door? Or worse yet, Colton’s parents or his uncle John? No, she had to wait until she got Colton alone.
She was still lost in thought, worried sick about breaking the news to Colton, when she parked the pickup near the barn.
“Where ya been?” her father asked as she raced through the back door. Seated at the kitchen table, working the crossword puzzle in the morning paper, he glanced up at her.
“In town.”
“Get anything?”
Just bad news. “Nope—nothing caught my eye.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel.
Ivan turned his attention back to the open newspaper pages, and she ran upstairs and changed, feeling miserable.
She considered calling Colton, but couldn’t risk it, not until her father was away from the ranch. If Ivan heard her end of the conversation, he’d go through the roof. And she couldn’t chance another midnight ride; she might get caught by the McLeans or her father.
A little voice in her mind nagged at her—told her she was just putting off the inevitable, but she wouldn’t listen. She had time, she assured herself. Besides, it was better to be safe than sorry.
* * *
In the next few days her father never left the ranch. And, unfortunately, he expected her to help with the hay and wheat harvest—so she was in the fields as much as he. Cassie spent nearly twenty-four hours a day with him. If Colton had called, she’d been out and missed him.
One evening while her father was doing the chores, she forced herself to take a chance. Her insides churning, she reached for the phone, dialed, and waited.
“Hello.” Denver McLean’s voice rang over the wires. Was it her imagination or did he already sound hostile?
“Hello?” he said again. “Hello?”
Cassie swallowed hard.
“Is anyone there?” Denver asked, his voice angrier than ever.
“Cass?” her father called.
Whirling, Cassie hung up.
“Don’t let me bother you,” her father said, nodding toward the telephone.
Shaking her head, Cassie mumbled. “I was finished anyway.”
“Who was it?”
Cassie thought fast. “Just Beth,” she lied, hating herself for the deception.
Her father