Linda Ford - The Cowboy's Baby Bond

Adam opened his eyes and stared into his mama’s face with so much faith and love that Johnny’s throat tightened.

That was the look of trust.

He’d thought he’d seen that in Trudy’s eyes, but all he’d really seen were lies and deceit. His good friend Thad shared a similar experience, which, added to his sister’s death, had sent the man to a dark place in his mind.

It appeared far too many woman considered this normal behavior.

It had been a hard lesson, but one Johnny didn’t intend to repeat. He’d vowed to never again give his heart to a woman. Nope. Ranch work, his pa and stepmother, his brothers and now Tanner’s wife and kids were enough family for him.

Yet his attention went again to the little boy and that look of pure, simple faith in his mother’s ability to keep him safe.

It made Johnny determined to get them both to the ranch as quickly as possible. He flicked the reins and the horse picked up the pace. He glanced back at the wheel he’d adjusted and hoped it would hold until they reached the ranch.

He meant to do everything in his power to see the trust in that little boy’s eyes rewarded.

* * *

Willow took comfort in the weight of the pistol in her lap. She knew how to shoot, but the idea of sending a bullet into a man made her blood run cold. Though not as cold as the fear that had mounted with each passing hour since Adam had grown fussy last night. At first, she thought he was simply tired of the journey, but during the restless night, he’d developed a fever.

Her sense of triumph over leaving Wolf Hollow and its bitter memories had been replaced with worry over her son. Not that she regretted shaking the dust of that wild town off her shoes. Nor had her anticipation at seeing her sisters for the first time in a year and a half diminished.

But all that paled in comparison to getting someplace where she could tend her son.

She darted a look at the man beside her. Dark complexion, dark eyes and dark hair beneath a gray cowboy hat. Who was he and what had he been about before he noticed her predicament? Johnny Harding, he’d said. She might have heard the Harding name before but wasn’t certain. Mostly she’d kept to herself, tending Adam and trying to avoid Bertie, the man she’d been forced to marry. Forced was not exactly accurate. She’d agreed to marry him in order to ensure her younger sisters would have a home and her son would have a name. Under the agreement she’d made with Bertie’s father, in exchange she took on the responsibility of keeping Bertie on the straight and narrow. She’d soon discovered the futility of even trying.

She’d endured a steady barrage of insults from Bertie, who lamented the injustice of having to marry her in order for his father to finance his trip to the wilds of northwest Montana. Still, Willow would do the same again to help her sisters and her son.

Bertie’s death in a drunken brawl had freed her and left her with a nice bundle of gold dust that she meant to use to provide a home for her son and her sisters. She’d sent tickets to get her sisters to Granite Creek, the closest railway stop, where she meant to join them and start a new life.

This was Thursday. She’d hoped to be in Granite Creek by now, but had to travel slower than she planned as Adam grew restless and irritable. Poor baby.

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.