Barbara Daille - The Rancher's Baby Proposal

He knew it was too little effort, too late, but he made his way quickly toward the house.

Clouds covered the moon, and he had only the back porch light that Ally must have put on, plus the square of light from the kitchen window, to guide his footsteps through the dark. It reminded him of all the nights when he was growing up and had come in from working in the barn or, as he got older, out on the land with his dad. In the earliest days, they were two tough ranchers—one of them still in diapers and short pants.

At the sudden memories of later days, his stomach knotted.

When he entered the kitchen, Ally looked up. She sat near the darkened television in the corner, thumbing through one of the outdated magazines he had left in a pile on the counter. She had tuned his mom’s old radio to a station now playing music with a fast beat, but she had left the sound turned low.

The baby lay sleeping in the playpen.

“So you finally decided to quit for the night,” she said.

“Yeah.” He glanced across the room and noted the napkin-covered plate sitting on one side of the table. “You didn’t eat yet?”

“I did, since I had no idea what time you’d be coming in. I made an extra sandwich in case you walked in feeling ravenous.” She gave him a bright smile.

Suddenly, he did have a huge appetite, but not one connected to food.

“I’m good, thanks.” He looked away, checking in on the baby again from a distance. “I’m too covered in dirt to go near Sean, but I can see he’s sleeping soundly.”

“He hasn’t moved for a long time,” she confirmed.

“Good. He’s usually tucked in bed by now.” Great. He’d as good as told her he had stayed outside long past the time he’d normally have taken care of his son. “Since this is your first day with the baby, I’ll give you both a break. You can skip the bedtime routine with him this time.”

“Okay.” She began straightening the stack of magazines.

He shucked his boots and left them near the outside door. While he was still out in the barn, he had thought briefly of the no-frills shower stall off in one corner. But he’d only scrubbed his hands at the sink. It didn’t make sense to clean up out there, as his clothes were filthy and he’d be carrying dirt from them into the house, anyhow.

If Ally hadn’t been there, he could have left his jeans and T-shirt outside on the porch. He envisioned stripping off his clothes in front of her. “I need a cold shower,” he said abruptly.

For a moment, she looked as rattled as he felt. Her glance went from his socks to his jeans to his sweaty T-shirt, where it lingered a moment before finally rising to his face. Here he was having hot thoughts about her, and she seemed worried about dirt in the house. If so, she’d best not hope to become a rancher’s wife.

“Sean will sleep for a while now,” he told her. “I’ll let him carry on while I go get cleaned up. I can take over from here. We didn’t discuss how you want to be paid. Daily or at the end of the week?”

Again, she looked upset. He frowned. “Did I forget to say I’d want the help for at least a week, if not two?”

“You mentioned it when we talked at SugarPie’s. You weren’t very specific.”

“That’s because I’m not sure. It depends on how long it takes me to get the house in shape.” A heckuva long time if he didn’t do more than what he’d done already, which meant clean the minimum of rooms so he and Sean could stay here comfortably. And temporarily. “If you expect to run into a problem, let me know now. I’ll talk to Mrs. B and maybe Sugar, have them start spreading the word to see if I can find someone else.”

“No,” she blurted.

Obviously, her distress about the dirt on his clothes was nothing compared with the thought of losing her short-term job. She must need the extra money more than she had let on.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I won’t have any trouble working for you for a couple of weeks or...or even longer. I told you, once I’m done at the store, my time is my own. And speaking of stores, you weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t pick up much at the L-G. If you want to give me a list, I could swing by there tomorrow before I get the baby at Mrs. Browley’s.”

“You’re here for Sean. I don’t expect you to do the shopping.”

“The store is on my route. And you said yourself it’s a big hassle to stop working to run into town.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “It is. And I drop Sean off at Mrs. B’s before the L-G’s open. It would be a help if you’d grab a few things for me on your way out here. I could be that much closer to getting done, and you could make some extra money for your time.”

Judging by her fallen expression, that comment didn’t go over well with her, either. Funny. He’d thought for sure she would have been happy about the additional pay.

Women. He’d never figure them out.

But then, considering he and Sean had been deserted by one, hadn’t he realized that already?

* * *

“I’M SURPRISED YOU’RE HERE,” Tina said to Ally as they settled into the comfy overstuffed chairs in the Hitching Post’s sitting room. “You told me Reagan has you bringing the baby out to his place after work.”

“We’re on the way. But trust me, Reagan won’t notice what time we get there.”

Yesterday, when she had arrived at the ranch with Sean and the groceries, Reagan had been nowhere to be found. She had given up on the television altogether and spent the hours with the radio and the stack of magazines again. She was already bored and lonely with no one to talk to but a sleeping baby. By the time Reagan came into the house, she had begun wishing she had stopped by the Hitching Post to occupy her time.

And Reagan certainly didn’t hang around to chat.

Once he’d taken off his boots, checked on the baby and said good-night to her, he disappeared even more quickly than he had the night before.

Outside, she had stood for a moment beside her car, looking up at the light in the second-floor window and longing to be a fly on the wall in his shower—or at least to have the pleasure of seeing his silhouette in the window. Then, blushing at her own thoughts, she had gotten into the car and driven away.

Her gaze hadn’t strayed to the rearview mirror more than a half-dozen times.

“Well,” Tina said, “I’m glad you made the detour here. We’re so glad to see you—both of you.”

“You don’t need to sound so excited about it,” Ally told her. “Does she?” she asked the baby as she took off the light blanket she had used to shield him from the midafternoon sun.

“Why not?” Tina asked. “Sean doesn’t look traumatized by having you near him, the way you said all babies do. Aren’t things going well with Reagan?”

“That’s your daddy,” Ally explained to the child. Somehow it seemed easier to admit the truth aloud to him than to her own best friend. That’s what frustration did to you. Or maybe humiliation. “You know your daddy, right? So do I. But he doesn’t seem to have a clue who I am.”

“Have I missed something?” Tina’s cousin Andi entered the room holding her daughter, who, Ally thought, was just over a year old.

With all the kids around the Hitching Post and all the newborns in town, it was hard to keep track. Only a few months ago, one of their friends from school had even had a set of triplets. Ally gave thanks Reagan had come to town with a single infant. As cooperative as Sean had been so far, one baby at a time was still more than enough for her.

“I don’t know,” Tina said to her cousin. “I’ve been here for the entire conversation, but I’m not sure what we’re talking about, either.”

Andi laughed and set her daughter into the playpen in the corner.