The Cowboy's Baby Bond

by Linda Ford

The train didn’t arrive until Friday. Surely if she stopped and tended him, Adam would get better, so she could continue her journey.

  She hummed a little tune to comfort the baby.

  “How old is your boy?” Mr. Harding asked.

  “He’s a year old.”

  “I expect he’s provided you with lots of joy.”

  She relaxed for the first time since this stranger had come to her aid. “He certainly has. I can hardly wait for my sisters to meet him.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  She recognized his attempt to ease her worry, and appreciated it. Bertie would have incited her by continually pointing out how sick Adam looked. He’d never let her forget Adam wasn’t his son, and had made it clear he had no affection for the baby.

  “I haven’t seen them in over a year and a half,” she said of her sisters. “Celia will be fourteen now. She’s five years younger than me. Then there’s Sarah. I haven’t seen her since she was eight. I can’t believe she’ll be ten by now. I wonder how much they’ve both changed.” She knew she rambled, but talking made it harder to worry. “I just hope—” She couldn’t finish the thought. Too many things could go wrong. Hadn’t she learned that? The sudden death of her parents in a buggy accident. A foolish indiscretion with Adam’s father, an act born of sorrow. A loveless marriage. A son who truly had no father that he would ever know. Thankfully, it hadn’t been Bertie.

  “You hope things work out.”

  “Indeed.” She stroked Adam’s hot cheeks and waved the blanket to fan him. “However, they don’t always, do they?”

  “Bad things happen to good and bad people alike. One would think life was random, even cruel. But I don’t think it is.”

  She hadn’t meant the question to be answered, so when he spoke in thoughtful tones, she listened carefully, hoping he would provide an answer to the many doubts that circled in her brain. “Then how do you explain those random things?” she asked when he didn’t continue.

  “Perhaps they provide us an opportunity to trust God.”

  “Excuse me if I say that’s a pat answer that means nothing. My view is that God doesn’t much care what happens to us. He made us, then left us to manage on our own.” She shut her mouth with a snap. She should be a little more cautious. Men, she’d discovered, did not care to have a woman disagree with them. And she and Adam were pretty much at this man’s mercy. “Forgive me. I suppose I’m overreacting to recent events in my life.”

  Mr. Harding only shrugged. “I feel no need to defend God.”

  What a strange reply.

  They turned onto a riverside trail that was smoother, more traveled. “How much farther?” she asked, as a frisson of fear caught at her lungs. Maybe they weren’t going to any ranch. Maybe this man meant them harm. How foolish of her to turn her wagon over to him, to trust herself and Adam to him. Had she not learned enough lessons about trusting men?

  First, her fiancé had left her pregnant with Adam. Though she could hardly blame him that she’d turned to him for comfort when her parents died. Then there was Mr. Reames. He and her father had been business partners and, with no other family for Willow and her sisters, Mr. Reames and his wife had been named guardians of Willow and the girls. Upon learning of her condition, he’d threatened to turn them all into the street for the shame her pregnancy would bring. Marrying Bertie was her only option. But she’d failed to keep him from getting into trouble, and Bertie had turned into even more of a drinking, gambling, unkind man once away from his father’s control. As if that wasn’t enough, after Bertie’s death Mr. Reames had informed her the girls could no longer stay with him and his wife, seeing as Willow had failed to keep her part of the agreement. Yes, she’d learned more than enough about the dangers of trusting any man or his word.

  Mr. Harding answered her question. “We’ll turn off toward the ranch just up there.” He pointed to a fork in the road. “Then you’ll get your first glimpse of the place.”

  She heard the pride in his voice and couldn’t help but envy him. He obviously knew where he belonged. She stiffened her resolve. Soon she and the girls and Adam would have a place where they belonged, even if it was temporary and only rented. Most of all, they’d be together.

  The wagon reached the fork, turned away from the blue, chuckling river and passed between some trees, their leaves dull with the summer heat. It slowed as the trail grew narrow and rough, and then broke through into sunshine again. Ahead, the trail passed between two rows of buildings. This was more like a small town than a ranch.

  “This is Sundown Ranch,” Mr. Harding said as he rounded a low, rambling house and pulled up at the door. He touched Adam’s head. “I hope he gets better soon.”

  Adam’s half-glazed eyes studied the man with solemn interest.

  Willow kept her attention on her son, wondering at the trust she saw in them. So unlike his response to Bertie. Adam would always cling to her and hide his face when Bertie came near. Was it simply because her son was too sick to care or did he see something in Mr. Harding that he liked? She wanted to pull him closer and whisper caution in his ear. But Adam was too young to know not to trust anyone, let alone a stranger.

  Mr. Harding jumped down and came around to guide her to the ground. “Is there anything you need out of the wagon?”

  “Adam’s things, if you don’t mind.” She indicated where they were under the tarpaulin.

  He took the valise out and set it on the ground at her feet.

  “Thank you.” She didn’t take her gaze off the wagon. All her earthy belongings were in the back—a big bed, a chest of drawers, dishes and linens—enough to set up housekeeping in Granite Creek. Would her things be safe? Though, at the moment that concern was secondary to Adam’s needs.

  “I’ll take care of the wagon,” Mr. Harding said, his expression kind.

  “I appreciate that.” She had no choice but to trust him. At least he’d brought her to this house.

  “Here comes Maisie now.”

  Willow followed the direction of his gaze to see a woman crossing the yard. As soon as she was close enough, Mr. Harding introduced them.

  “Welcome, welcome,” Mrs. Harding said. She glanced at Adam. “You have a sick baby. Come inside and we’ll take care of him.”

  Willow followed her indoors, glancing around at the large kitchen with table and chairs to one side. Mrs. Harding indicated Willow should sit down.

  “Do you mind undressing the little one so I can have a look at him?”

  Willow wondered how she’d known the baby was a boy, but perhaps she spoke in general terms. Glad of someone to examine Adam and tell her what was wrong, Willow removed everything but the diaper.

  Mrs. Harding looked at his chest and back, behind his ears and at the back of his knees. “I don’t see any evidence of a rash. How has he been eating?”

  “Okay until yesterday.”

  “Has he eaten anything different than usual?”

  “We’ve been traveling, so...” Willow gasped. “Have I given him something that went bad?”

  “There would have been other signs.” Mrs. Harding asked a few more questions. “I can’t see anything specifically wrong with him. It could be a combination of things. Teething and traveling might have him off-kilter.”

  Adam, growing upset at all the prodding, grabbed at his ears and whined.

  “There we go. He’s told us himself.” Mrs. Harding rubbed the side of Adam’s head. “Poor baby has an earache. Let’s deal with the fever first.” She brought water, poured something into it. “While you sponge him I’ll prepare some oil for his ears.”

  Willow washed Adam’s little body with the tepid water. In a few minutes she could tell his fever dropped. “I’m grateful you know what to do,” she said as Mrs. Harding placed warm drops in Adam’s ears. What would she have done alone in the
wagon? “Mr. Harding was kind to bring us here.”

  The man himself returned at that moment and overheard her comment. “Better call me Johnny. There are far too many Mr. Hardings around here for anyone to know who you mean otherwise.”

  Willow ducked her head. “Thank you for helping us, Johnny.” She stumbled over his Christian name. His presence filled the kitchen, making her forget her manners.

  “And call me Maisie,” said the older woman. “Everyone does.”

  “Then I’d be pleased if you’d call me Willow.” She smiled at Maisie, then lifted her head to let Johnny know she included him. His dark eyes seemed full of reassurance. What an odd thing to think, especially considering what she knew about men.

  He stepped closer and touched Adam on the head. “How is the little fella?”

  “He’s feeling better, thanks to your mother’s help.”

  Adam looked at the man and smiled. Then the child held out his arms to him.

  Johnny blinked. “Does he want me to hold him?”

  Willow nodded, at a loss to understand why her son would go to a complete stranger when he’d grown up learning to stay away from men.

  “Can I?” Johnny asked. Then he stepped back. “I’ve never held a baby.”

  She would have refused her permission, but how could she deny her son this when he was so miserable? She shifted him into Johnny’s arms.

  The man held the baby at an awkward angle, but Adam pulled himself up to look into those dark eyes and babble something. It almost sounded as if he was relating a tale of woe.

  Johnny grinned at the baby’s nonsense and nodded as if to say he understood every word.

  Adam patted the man’s cheeks, pressed his face to Johnny’s chest and fell asleep.

  “Well, look at you.” Maisie sounded both surprised and pleased. “You have the touch.”

  Willow put a hand to her heart as fear and trepidation flooded it.

  Adam trusted this dark stranger. But what did a one-year-old know about broken promises and deceit?

  Nothing. And she meant to do everything in her power to protect him from learning those harsh lessons.

  Chapter Two

  Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off the little boy in his arms. He’d never held a child this young. He’d seen them in town and at church, little ones in their mother’s arms or just beginning to toddle around, but he’d had little interest in them until Trudy started talking about children.

  He’d thought she meant children with him after they were married, not a child already in her womb by another man.

  But never mind that.

  The little guy’s light brown hair ruffled as Johnny breathed, and he smoothed it. No one had ever told him how downy a baby’s hair would be. How tiny, yet perfect, their fingers, nor how intent their gaze. “What’s wrong with him?” He fought a surge of protectiveness that made him want to hold the baby tighter and keep bad things at bay.

  “Earache,” Maisie said. “Not unusual for a child this age. I’ve given him drops. Why don’t you sit down and let him sleep.” She smiled at the baby in his arms. “He looks so content.”

  As Johnny sat, his gaze met Willow’s. Her eyes blazed a warning, as if she feared he might do her son harm. He would reassure her he never would, but how was she to know if she could trust his words?

  Willow turned away. “I surely do appreciate your help,” she said to Maisie. Then her attention went to the window and she twisted her hands together.

  Johnny could only guess at the many worries of a widow woman with a sick child and two sisters about to join her. He wished he had a way to help her. Fixing the wagon was the best he could offer. He would do that task as soon as he could, but right now nothing would make him put the baby down while he slept so peacefully on his chest.

  Maisie quietly tidied things in the kitchen while Willow continued to stare out the window.

  The moments ticked by in contentment until Adam woke with a wail and arched his back.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Johnny asked. Had he held the baby too tightly? Not firmly enough? Pinched his legs?

  Willow eased the baby from his arms. “His ear is hurting.” She pressed her cheek to his forehead. “His fever has gone up again.”

  Johnny’s jaw tightened, making his words come out hoarse. “I remember Ma doing that. Testing us with her cheek.”

  Maisie rubbed his arm. “It’s nice when you remember her.”

  Willow sat down and reached for the wet cloth to wipe Adam’s back and chest, but at Maisie’s words she gave her a puzzled look.

  The woman turned to prepare more drops for the baby. “I’m the boys’ stepmother. Their own mother, Seena, died when Johnny was six. He worries he’ll forget her.” She dropped warm oil into Adam’s ears, ignoring his wail of protest.

  As the little boy reached his arms out toward Johnny again, Maisie laughed. “He thinks you’ll rescue him from the tortures of me and his mama.” She brushed her hand over the baby’s head. “We’re only trying to help.”

  “Seena? That’s a beautiful name.” Willow ignored her son’s protests and continued to sponge him.

  “My ma was a Lakota Indian.” Johnny said the words without revealing anything of what he felt. He’d experienced enough hatred toward his mother’s race to want to gauge this woman’s reaction.

  “I see.” Willow spared him a quick glance.

  “Yes, that explains my dark coloring.” He didn’t try to keep resignation from his voice.

  Many people hated half-breeds. Others voiced the opinion that the only good Indian was a dead Indian. Too many had lost friends and relatives in the many Indian wars and weren’t about to forget it.

  Her hands stilled. “I’m sorry if I gave you cause to think it makes any difference.”

  Her words eased a tension he’d been unaware of until it was gone. Though why it should, he couldn’t say. Except it did. Tension had always grabbed him at the negative opinions of people, even if he didn’t let anyone know.

  “I’m sorry if I judged you,” he replied.

  “It’s forgiven and forgotten.” She smiled at him, then turned her attention back to young Adam, who sent Johnny pleading looks.

  His heart couldn’t take it and he strode from the room.

  He walked past the wagon he’d parked by the barn. Willow’s belongings were safe there. No one on the ranch would touch them, knowing they would face the combined wrath of the Hardings if they did. The wheel would have to come off and be repaired, greased and then remounted. He’d make sure it was fixed well enough to take her and that little fella anyplace they wanted to go.

  In the meantime, he had to take care of Gray and Willow’s horse. He’d see that the mare got good feed and good grooming. From the look of her hooves, it wouldn’t hurt to tend them, either.

  He brushed both horses and gave them each a ration of oats, though Gray didn’t need a lot. The Hardings kept all their stock in good shape.

  He was trimming the mare’s hooves when he heard the sound of approaching horses. He finished the task, closed the gate to the pen and crossed to the barn to wait for Pa and Levi. They’d have questions and he’d sooner answer them out here than in front of Willow.

  They led their horses into the barn.

  Levi halted at the sight of Johnny. “I thought you were going to stay at the cabin until you got it ready to live in.” His voice deepened. “For you and Thad.”

  Johnny couldn’t undo the past, nor mend the hurt his younger brother felt at the drowning of Thad’s sister, Helen. Levi and Helen had loved each other since they were fifteen years old.

  “Plans changed.”

  “Again?” Levi no doubt referred to how plans had changed at Helen’s drowning. At the time of her death, Johnny and Thad had already formed
a partnership for the purpose of breeding horses, training them and selling them. Broken by his sister’s death and the shock of learning of his girlfriend’s unfaithfulness, Thad had left along with his family, and the partnership had dissolved. Now Thad had healed enough to return, and Johnny meant to do everything he could to help him regain the confidence and enthusiasm he’d known in the man before those dreadful incidents.

  Or Levi might be referring to the fact that Johnny’s wedding plans had changed abruptly. Or any number of things. It didn’t matter.

  “A person learns to roll with the punches.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Levi didn’t sound the least convinced.

  Pa had unsaddled his horse and now joined them. “You finished the repairs? Or changed your mind?”

  Pa wasn’t too keen on Johnny moving into the cabin even if he would be sharing it with Thad. “Like I said, no need for you to live up there when you have a perfectly good home here.”

  “Thad needs to start over.” As did he. There was no sense in dwelling on the past. Perhaps they’d both find healing in the future. “I’m still going to fix the cabin. Just got delayed a bit. That’s all.”

  The two riders brushed down their horses and fed them.

  Maisie rang the supper bell and when the men left the barn Levi noticed the wagon. “We got company?”

  “Yeah.” Johnny told them about finding the young widow with her son. He told them everything except how good it felt to hold the little guy and how he figured he needed to take care of Willow and the baby.

  What was he thinking? He didn’t feel that at all. That was a runaway thought that had no place in his head. Except it remained.

  Big Sam patted Johnny’s back. “Son, you did the right thing.”

  That explained it. The boys had been raised to do what was right even if it cost them. Making sure Willow and Adam were safe fell into that category.

  They continued to the house, washed up at the stand outside, then entered. They trooped by Maisie, who waited at the doorway, each of them planting a kiss on her cheek.

  Willow had brushed her hair into a tidy roll, though Johnny thought maybe it suited her better escaping to hang about her face. Adam wore a new little shirt and pants.