Linda Ford - The Cowboy's Baby Bond

“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.