The Baby and the Cowboy SEAL (Cowboy SEALs 2)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Guess you’re right.” Clouds had moved back over the sun. Since they’d married, Wiley regularly visited Dot with Macy. The afternoons were hard on her. Dot didn’t recognize either of them, and inevitably upon leaving, Macy cried. His heart ached for her. “I miss them—our grandparents. If it weren’t for them, we might not be together.”

  “True.” She moved to the bush beside him. “But then like you used to tell me, maybe I would have been better off? Not hitching myself to a no-good cowboy.”

  “Who are you calling no good?” He lunged to tackle her.

  “You!” Just before he reached her, she took off running.

  They crisscrossed the meadow until Wiley’s leg pain got the best of him. In order to avoid showing weakness, he tackled her to the soft grass, then plucked a pretty yellow wildflower and tucked it behind her ear.

  “You need to take that back.” He tickled her ribs and belly.

  “No way!” She laughed through tears. “Stop! I’m gonna pee!”

  “Good for you we brought extra diapers.” He tickled her all the harder, and the more she laughed, the more Henry laughed, too.

  The baby was a strong crawler, and he decided to join in on the fun.

  Wiley tickled him, too.

  Winded, Wiley sat back. “Good thing we left Blinkie at home, or he’d be yapping up a storm.”

  “Probably.” She pointed to the sky. “Speaking of which, we should get going. Those clouds are looking darker.”

  As if on cue, thunder rolled.

  “Don’t have to ask me twice.” He offered Macy his hand to help her to her feet.

  While she got Henry settled in his backpack carrier, Wiley combined the contents of their baskets. He shook Henry’s quilt, then folded it to stash in a zipper compartment of the infant’s ride.

  His leg was starting to hurt. He reached for his medicine, only to find his pill bottle no longer in his pocket. He had more at the house, but the return hike was treacherous—not something he was capable of stone sober.

  Returning to the berry bushes, he kicked at the tall grasses, hoping it would be on the surface. No such luck.

  “Drop something?” Macy asked.

  “My medicine.” He searched the area where they’d roughhoused.

  “You’ve got more at the house, don’t you? Since you started the mail-order prescription service, seems like they send way more than you need.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Well, even though you’re not due for your next dose for a couple hours, that’s one more reason for us to get home. Want me to take Henry and you carry the baskets?”

  No. Hell, no. But what if his knee gave out on the trail? It wouldn’t. He refused to let it.

  “Wiley? There’s no shame in needing help, you know?”

  “I don’t need help. Let’s just go.”

  The playful vibe had been squashed—at least in his mind.

  Lightning cracked and the resulting thunder crashed far too close for comfort. His heart raced.

  Incoming! Get those kids out of there!

  He pressed his fingertips to his forehead, willing his mind to focus on the task at hand.

  Macy helped settle Henry on Wiley’s back.

  Wiley fastened the waistband support, then gestured for Macy to lead the way. “Ladies first.”

  “I’d rather stay behind to keep an eye on the baby.”

  Lightning cracked again. Thunder shook the ground.

  For a split second, Wiley closed his eyes and saw his pal Crow. “Go! I’m already gone.”

  There was blood, so much blood. Crow’s legs had been sliced off by a car windshield and he sat in a pool of gushing red. But it wasn’t just his blood.

  Schoolkids were in pieces.

  His brain couldn’t fully process the carnage.

  A backpack here. A severed hand there.

  He tried staying strong, but retched. He pulled himself together, knowing he had to save Crow.

  Another bomb hit, and another—maybe gunfire. His ears had stopped working, and the once blue sky had turned an inky, billowy black. Wiley dragged his dead friend as far as his own injuries allowed, but then he fell.

  The bombs kept coming.

  The earth kept shaking.

  He covered his ears with his hands. Would the noise ever stop?

  “Wiley? Talk to me? What’s wrong? The lightning’s bad. We have to go.”

  Lightning. Thunder.

  Reality rushed back, along with a fierce wind gust. He was no longer in Syria, but home. On the mountain where only good resided.

  “Wiley, please.” Macy tugged his arm. “Move. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. Let’s go.” He stumbled into action. He couldn’t save Crow, but Macy and Henry were his new charges. He would see them to safety or die trying.

  * * *

  BACK AT THE CABIN, while rain hammered the tin roof, Macy gave Henry a warm bath and bottle to help calm him after he’d panicked from the shock of the storm, then dressed him in cozy pj’s, and settled him in his crib for a nap.

  She should have kept him awake till bedtime, but the little guy could hardly keep his eyes open.

  Next, Macy focused on her own comfort, filling the tub to the brim with steaming water.

  Sinking up to her neck, she released the breath she felt as if she’d been holding since the first thunderclap.

  “Hey...” Wiley carried a steaming mug of cocoa, and set it on the windowsill behind the tub. “You always used to like hot chocolate during a storm.”

  “Don’t.”

  “What? I just brought you a warm drink, not a martini.”

  “Wiley, the lightning and thunder brought on another of your PTSD spells. Don’t even try denying it. No matter how hard I shook you, you were gone. Do you have any idea how terrifying that was for me?”

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “How can you say that? Sure, you can avoid fireworks, or I don’t know, a gun range, but you can’t control the weather. I needed you up there, but you’d checked out.”

  “I said I’m sorry. I’m not Superman, okay?”

  “I don’t want you to be. All I’m asking is for you to be man enough to realize you need help and not be too prideful to ask for it. When we got married, we became a team, but you act like a solo player.”

  “The hell I do. I’ll admit, at first, I wasn’t fully on board with this whole marriage thing.” He lowered himself to sit on the closed toilet. His mask of concentration told her he was in pain. “But lately, everything I am is centered around you and Henry. All I want is the best for you.”

  “Then go back to the doctor. Start physical therapy. Find a shrink to get help with your blackout spells.”

  “No. I’m fine. Granted, I was preoccupied by the storm, but we all got down in one piece, didn’t we?” He pushed himself up, only to kneel beside her. Dipping his hand beneath the water, he pressed his open palm to her chest. Could he feel her racing pulse? “You mean everything to me. I would never do anything that could hurt you or Henry. Trust me.”

  “I want to...” She took his dear hand, pressing it to her cheek. “Wiley, you mean the world to me, but what you’re going through—it’s bigger than I thought. Maybe Dad was right? Maybe you were right? Is whatever’s happening with you too much for me to fix?” Her throat ached from the effort of holding back tears.

  “Why are you bringing that up when everything’s been so right?”

  “Because honestly? I’m scared of losing you.” That very real possibility played a game of Russian roulette with her heart.

  * * *

  WILEY WASN’T PROUD of the fact, but he’d lost count of how many painkillers he took a day to be the man Macy needed him t
o be. Three weeks had passed since the storm that had come unacceptably close to tearing them apart. He hadn’t had another spell since then, and didn’t plan on ever having another.

  Life had been hectic, but good.

  As soon as he got more horses, his trail-riding business would soon open.

  They’d made huckleberry jam and found good homes for three of Pancake’s five puppies. Doc had brought over a new half-starved mare and Charlie and his crew were still undecided about whether or not to accept her. So far, signs were positive, and she’d already put on a few pounds. Lulu and the goats had gained a little too much.

  Henry was pulling himself up regularly, and Macy had gone nuts safety-proofing the cabin. The cat—Popcorn, Macy’s name choice, not his—had taken to sitting atop Macy’s grandmother’s upright piano and didn’t seem amused by the commotion.

  Tonight was the reception Adrianne was holding, and Wiley hoped this was also the night Macy finally admitted everything was going great.

  “What can I do to help?” Wiley asked Macy, who did her makeup at her grandmother’s vanity table.

  “Could you please check Henry’s diaper bag. I think I used the last can of formula, and he needs spare pj’s since Mom and Dad said they want to keep him for the night.”

  “I like the sound of that.” She wore her hair up, and he kissed her neck. “I’m down for adult fun after the party.”

  “Me, too.” She smiled at him in the mirror, and he smiled back.

  “You look beautiful. I like that dress.” Her mom had taken her and Wendy for a ladies’ weekend in Missoula and come back with a shiny blue number that made her eyes sparkle.

  “Thank you. I like your suit.” Before now, the closest he’d come to wearing a suit had been his dress whites when he’d been on active duty, but he’d always been so proud to don the uniform, he’d viewed it as more of a privilege than duty.

  There was so much more he wanted—needed—to say.

  He wanted to apologize for the lackluster way he’d entered their marriage and to reassure her he was now in this for the long haul. His medicine supply would last forever, which meant she never had to worry about another of his spells.

  “Okay, well...” He hitched his thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ll get started on packing Henry’s gear.”

  “Wiley?”

  “Yeah?” His pulse raced at the softness of her somber tone.

  “I, well...” She licked her full lips, and then they curved up at the corners. He’d seen a lot of amazing things during his time in the Navy, but never had he seen any sight more spellbinding than her current smile. “Let’s have an amazing night.”

  “The best.” He exhaled. “It’s gonna be great.”

  “Yes, it is.” She blew him a kiss.

  His stupid-fast pulse craved the real deal, but since she’d already put on lipstick, he blew a kiss back, counting his lucky stars.

  * * *

  “AW, LOOK AT YOU.” Macy’s mom had allowed the grown-ups to wear semiformal, but she’d insisted on Henry wearing a minitux. “You’re the perfect gentleman. When my scrapbooking club sees you, they’re all going to turn clover-green with envy.”

  “Geez, Mom,” Macy teasingly complained. “How about Wiley and me? Didn’t we polish up nice, too?”

  “Oh, of course. Stand together so I can take in the full picture.”

  “You don’t have your camera,” Wiley pointed out.

  “Oh—I have a photographer coming. For now, I want to plan the perfect scenes.”

  Macy turned to Wiley and shook her head. “Sorry. I should have warned you before we tied the knot just what a loony bin you were marrying into.”

  He laughed while hugging her mom.

  The happy sight had tears welling in Macy’s eyes. She’d been tense ever since the storm, but now released that tension in favor of enjoying this carefree Wiley. Over the past few weeks, he’d worked wonders with the cabin. The place hadn’t looked so good since her grandfather had been alive. Henry was always grinning, and even sourpuss Charlie seemed to have lightened his demeanor. All was so right in her world that she refused to anticipate any more problems.

  The calm, sixty-degree night was a little on the nippy side, but after a rowdy line dance, the cool air felt good.

  Her parents had gone all out—hiring a local country band, ordering a gorgeous four-tiered cake, and even stringing thousands of fairy lights in their backyard trees. While the big folks danced and talked and ate fancy snacks like steak-on-a-stick and gourmet mini-corn dogs, the little folks had a ball playing in Henry’s new fort.

  Poor Henry had conked out in his playpen, and everyone in the family took turns checking on him.

  Wiley seemed in his element, and all the females from high school girls to the white-haired crowd were smitten. Macy took great pride in knowing he was all hers.

  “Wanna dance?” he asked into her ear. His warm breath tickled and made her shiver.

  “Depends on if I can wrangle you from your fan club.”

  He rolled his eyes, then kissed her dizzy in front of God, her parents and practically the whole town. “In case you haven’t gotten the memo, you’re the only one I want.”

  “Good.” Happy, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him right back.

  The night moseyed along in a happy blur. They cut the cake, and fed each other bites. They shared a champagne toast, after which Macy shared a dance with her father.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said, swaying her in time to the slow, sweet tune.

  “What for?”

  “When you first told me Wiley was back on the mountain, I’d heard enough about him to make me scared, but turns out, he’s grown into a fine young man. I couldn’t be prouder for you to be with him.”

  “Thank you, Dad. Your approval means the world to me.”

  “Well, you’ve got it and then some. Your mom and I have really grown to love him, and it’s no secret you and Henry do, too.”

  Since her throat was too tight from emotion to speak, Macy nodded. She finally composed herself enough to manage saying, “I do. I really do.”

  “All right, enough of this sappy stuff.” Her dad wiped tears from his eyes. “Your mom and I have one last surprise for you two that we hope will be fun. Took some doing, but I think it will put the perfect cap on what has already been a pretty great night.”

  “You know I can’t stand surprises. What is it?”

  “Can’t tell you. Your momma would have my hide.”

  “You’re terrible.” But she loved him. In fact, her heart was so full of love for her parents and husband and child, and all of their wonderful friends that once the dance was over, she dashed to her childhood bedroom’s bathroom to compose herself.

  It didn’t take long to freshen her makeup and smooth her hair. When she finished, she and Wendy spent a good fifteen minutes gossiping on Macy’s twin bed about a new guy Wendy had met.

  Macy was headed back outside when she heard some odd popping sounds, then crackling, followed by full-on explosions.

  Pulse quickening, she ran to the backyard to find a full-scale fireworks show already underway.

  “Surprise!” her parents said in unison. Then her mom added, “Your dad pulled a few strings with the fire marshal to allow us to put on a show. Aren’t they gorgeous? Since you two were too busy messing around on the Fourth of July, we thought you might enjoy another show that you actually get to watch.”

  Macy had no words.

  Wiley. She had to find him.

  “Macy?” her mom asked. “Where are you going? Stay and watch the show.”

  “I have to find Wiley.”

  “Relax,” her dad said. “I want you to catch every last pop. Last I saw him, Wiley was shooting the breeze with some of your old high school friends
.”

  Despite her parents’ misgivings, Macy looked everywhere, only to find Wiley was gone. Even worse—she feared he’d taken Henry with him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Enemy fire rained fast and hard.

  Wiley tucked the baby against his chest and ran until his lungs burned. At all costs, his number-one mission directive was to save this child. He would never let another child die on his watch.

  Deeper and deeper into dense woods he ran until finding suitable temporary shelter beneath a rock overhang. He must have dropped his radio during the cross fire as it wasn’t on him—neither was his piece. He never took a piss without his SIG SAUER P226, but he’d checked all his pockets, and it was gone.

  Okay, he’d been in worse jams.

  Judging by the light and sound, the enemy was a good two or three klicks away. He’d assess the status of his civilian, then reassess. In his book, the more distance between him and the rebels, the better.

  “How are you doing, little buddy?” He held out the infant child. He’d been crying, but now slept. Poor guy was no doubt exhausted. “If you don’t mind, we’re gonna press deeper, then I’ll devise a way for us to meet back with my team. Crow’s gotta be close. I know he was right on my tail.”

  The deeper into the night Wiley trudged, the more confused he grew. His left leg hurt like a son of a bitch. Had he been shot or taken shrapnel?

  He pressed on until he could physically go no farther.

  The moonless night closed in.

  He’d give his left nut for his night-vision goggles and his right for a standard-issue flashlight.

  He settled into another overhang.

  The air was cold, so he removed his jacket, wrapping it around the infant for extra warmth.

  He’d have felt a lot better with a fire, but with the enemy close, it was too risky. He dug a shallow hollow then placed the infant in it for added insulation from the night air. Wiley used his pocketknife to hack off a few low-hanging conifer branches that he then used to cover them both. The greenery would serve dual purposes—camouflage and protection from the elements.