The Maverick's Ready-Made Family

by Brenda Harlen

  “I can’t believe she still shows up here to church every week,” Helen Vanderhorst was saying.

  “Who?” Bev Haverly asked.

  “Antonia Wright. It’s absolutely sinful the way she parades around in her condition. And her father stands beside her, as if he actually condones what’s she’s done.”

  “What she’s done?” Judy Raycroft’s tone was bored. “She’s hardly the first unwed mother in Thunder Canyon.”

  “But she went to a clinic in Bozeman for a doctor to impregnate her with some stranger’s baby,” Helen informed her.

  Ellie didn’t like to encourage busybodies—and she knew that Helen Vanderhorst was one of the busiest—but in this situation, her curiosity outweighed her aversion to gossip, and she inched a little closer.

  “Why on earth would she do something like that?” Gertie Robbins wondered.

  “She’s always been too independent for her own good.” Helen’s tone was disapproving. “Eager to prove that she could do everything on her own—even having a baby.”

  “Or maybe the clinic in Bozeman story is just that,” Caroline Turner said. “More likely, she got knocked up the old-fashioned way and doesn’t want anyone to know it.”

  As Ellie knew had been the situation with two of Caroline’s three daughters, but—in her effort to remain inconspicuous—she managed to refrain from pointing out that fact.

  Bev shook her head. “Antonia was never the type to run wild. Her mama raised her right.”

  “Lucinda’s been gone two years,” Helen pointed out. “And John’s been pickled for about the same amount of time. That girl’s pretty much been on her own since they lowered her mama’s grave into the ground.”

  “Pretty much running the ranch on her own, too,” Gertie said. “And doing a fine job of it.”

  “Hardly an appropriate occupation for a young woman,” Caroline protested.

  “She did what needed to be done,” Judy chimed in again. “I don’t see how anyone can find fault with that.”

  Ellie had to agree, and she was grateful that at least someone had spoken up in defense of a young woman who was obviously navigating a difficult path.

  “I just think it’s a shame,” Bev continued, “that no one seems to believe in traditional family values anymore.”

  “If women didn’t occasionally buck tradition, we’d all still be barefoot and pregnant,” Judy, who had been one of the first female circuit court judges in this part of the state, argued.

  “But too many women are pursuing their careers at the expense of their families,” Helen insisted.

  The women continued to argue, but Ellie had heard enough. She set down her half-full cup and moved away.

  The dialogue had told her more about the speakers than anything else, and she realized that if she wanted to know something about Antonia, she was going to have to get to know Antonia.

  * * *

  In the past six months, Clay had focused so much of his energy on learning how to be a father that he’d suspected it would be a long while before he had the time or inclination for a personal relationship. Since coming to Thunder Canyon, he’d realized that he still had the inclination. The bigger surprise was his attraction to Antonia Wright, and his habit of making excuses to justify his visits to the main house to see her. Today, his excuse was Bennett.

  She was drying her hands on a towel when she responded to his knock at the door. “Is it a bad time?”

  Her gaze shifted from Clay to the baby in his arms, and her smile widened. “I always have time for this handsome guy.”

  Clay told himself there was no reason to feel slighted. After all, it wasn’t as if he was in competition with his own son for her attention. Was he?

  “He missed you at breakfast,” Clay said, offering the reason for their impromptu visit.

  “Did you?” she asked Bennett.

  He responded by reaching his arms out to her.

  “Do you mind?” she asked Clay, seeking permission to take the baby from him.

  “Does it look as if I have any say in the matter?”

  She was smiling as she took Bennett from his arms. In the transfer, the back of his hand brushed the side of her breast. They both froze.

  Then he took a step back, quickly.

  Her cheeks flushed with color. “Did you want a cup of coffee?”

  “I think I’m coffeed out,” he admitted.

  “Soft drink? Beer?”

  “No, thanks. We really just stopped by because Bennett was getting restless. I tried to put him down for his nap but he refused to settle, and I thought if we got out and walked around for a bit, he might fall asleep. Instead, he kept looking toward the house, as if he was wondering where you were, and now here we are.”

  “I’m glad,” she said. Then, to Bennett, “Why won’t you go to sleep for your daddy?”

  The baby yawned, confirming that he was, in fact, overdue for his nap.

  “Do you want me to rock him for a little bit?”

  “I would be eternally grateful,” he assured her.

  She smiled as she led the way into the living room. “Eternally?”

  “Well, at least until his nap time tomorrow.”

  She settled into a glossy cherry wood rocking chair. He didn’t know much about furniture, but it looked like an antique—either carefully maintained or impeccably restored.

  He took a minute to look around the rest of the room, noted the couch and chairs were a little worn but not shabby, and the tables were polished to a high gleam. There was something of a portrait gallery on the wall behind the couch, starting with old black-and-white photos on the outside at each end.

  “Your grandparents?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It’s kind of a pictorial family tree moving from the outside toward the center. My dad’s mom and dad are on this end, my mom’s mom and dad are at the other.”

  And at the center was a portrait of Antonia with her three brothers and her parents.

  “You look like your mom,” he noted.

  “Considering that my dad’s six feet tall and has a moustache, I always figured that was a good thing.”

  He smiled and lowered himself onto the sofa. When he glanced over to check on Bennett, he saw that the little boy’s head was on Antonia’s shoulder and his eyes were closed.

  “You have a knack with him,” he mused.

  “He was just tired.”

  “He was tired when I was carting him all over the property, too.”

  “And he would have fallen asleep eventually.”

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But my arms would have fallen asleep first.”

  “You need one of those backpack-style baby carriers.”

  “I already have a backpack-style diaper bag.”

  She laughed softly.

  The sound, so unexpected and somehow sexy, stirred something in his belly. He really didn’t understand what was happening here—why he was so attracted to a woman who was wrong for him in as many ways as he was wrong for her. But he knew he was at least partially to blame. Instead of making up excuses to spend time with her, he should be staying away. Far away.

  “We should get out of your hair,” he said, rising from the sofa. “You probably have a million things to do.”

  Of course, he didn’t realize that Bennett was literally entangled in her hair and that he would have untangle his sleeping son’s fist from Antonia’s dark, silky locks before they could make their escape. But Bennett’s fingers were closed tight, and Clay had to lean in a little closer to complete the task. Close enough that he could smell the tempting, peachy scent of her shampoo.

  He clenched his jaw and refocused on his task.

  “I do have other things I need to do,” she agreed. “First on the agenda being
to find part-time help while Jonah’s laid up.”

  “What happened to Jonah?”

  “He was in Bozeman on the weekend for a friend’s bachelor party and let himself be goaded into riding a mechanical bull, which he promptly fell off of and broke his collarbone.”

  Clay finally succeeded in releasing Antonia’s hair from Bennett’s grip and lifted the baby into his arms.

  “I think the most damage was done to his pride,” she continued her explanation of her brother’s injury. “But he’s still out of commission for the foreseeable future.”

  “Maybe I could help out.” He didn’t want to sound too eager, but he really had missed working with his dad and his brothers. The Wright Ranch undoubtedly had its own routine, but he was confident he could figure things out and pick up some of the slack.

  She glanced pointedly at the sleeping child now nestled against his shoulder. “Don’t you have your hands full enough already?”

  “More than full enough,” he admitted. “And as much as I love spending time with Bennett, I can’t be a stay-at-home dad forever. Not that I’m in any hurry to put him in day care, but I could probably make arrangements with one of my cousins to keep an eye on him if I was helping out here.”

  “Or, if you’re serious about putting in some hours on the ranch, I could keep an eye on Bennett.”

  “Because your hands aren’t full enough already,” he teased.

  She shrugged. “I have a playpen I can set up in the office. He could hang out there if I needed to get some work done. Otherwise, we could take walks, visit the horses in the stables, throw soft blocks around.”

  The final suggestion being one of Bennett’s favorite hobbies of late.

  “You really wouldn’t mind?”

  “It will be like on-the-job training for when I have my own baby,” she assured him.

  “When is that going to be?”

  “Hopefully November twenty-second.”

  “A Thanksgiving baby,” he noted.

  “If the baby comes on time, I’ll be extremely thankful,” she said. “I’m getting tired of carting this belly around.”

  His gaze dropped automatically. While there was no doubt that Antonia was pregnant, she didn’t look overweight or ungainly. In fact, the distinct roundness of her belly only seemed to enhance her femininity and attractiveness.

  He remembered—all too vividly—when she’d taken his hand to let him feel her baby kick. He’d been surprised at how taut and firm her belly was, and how amazed he’d been that there was a tiny person inside there. And he’d suddenly experienced a whole new level of appreciation for the female species.

  True, a woman couldn’t make a baby on her own, but the man’s role was quick and pleasurable. After that, it was all on the woman—for the next nine months, and usually well beyond that, she was solely responsible for meeting the baby’s needs. And while he still couldn’t understand Delia abandoning her infant, he couldn’t deny that she’d done a great job taking care of herself and their baby throughout her pregnancy.

  “Be thankful you’re not an elephant,” he said in response to Antonia’s eagerness to be at the end of her pregnancy.

  Her brows rose. “You mean, as opposed to just looking like one?”

  He smiled at that. “You look beautiful.”

  Her gaze dropped; her cheeks filled with color.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t an entirely appropriate comment for him to make. But it was true—she was a beautiful woman—and Clay didn’t want her to think that she was any less attractive because of her pregnancy.

  “But I was actually referring to the fact that the gestation period of elephants is twenty-two months, and that their babies usually weigh in around two hundred and fifty pounds when they are born.”

  She winced. “Should I ask how you know that?”

  Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. “When Bennett went through his colicky phase and I was up with him all night, I watched a lot of the Discovery Channel.”

  “Okay, I’m glad I’m not really an elephant,” she agreed. And then, more hesitantly, “How bad was the colic?”

  “More exhausting than a cross-country cattle drive,” he assured her. “Thankfully, though, the worst of it only lasted a few weeks.”

  “I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for you—on your own.”

  Her hand instinctively went to her belly again, and he knew she was thinking about the fact that she would be on her own, too—and wondering how she would manage if her baby was colicky. He didn’t tell her that even the non-colicky phases were an enormous challenge, because what was the point? She would figure that out for herself soon enough anyway.

  “Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?” he asked instead.

  Antonia shook her head. “I didn’t want to know.”

  “Do you have names picked out for both?”

  “I have a couple of possibilities in mind,” she admitted.

  “You’re not willing to share?”

  She shook her head again. “Not yet.”

  “Delia—Bennett’s mom—wanted a daughter.”

  “Bennett’s a strange name for a daughter,” she teased. “I like it, but I don’t think it would work as well for a girl.”

  He managed a smile. “She was so convinced she was carrying Sarah Jane that she never even considered a boy’s name.”

  “Was the name Bennett your choice then?”

  “I didn’t even know about him until he was a week old,” he reminded her.

  “Oh.” It was obvious that his revelation raised more questions than it answered, but she didn’t press for any more of an explanation.

  Over the past six weeks, he’d learned that Antonia wasn’t the type of woman to pry for information. He’d commented to Forrest that it was a refreshing change to have a conversation with a woman who didn’t need to know all the details of his past or want him to reveal all of his secrets.

  Of course, Forrest had warned that a woman who respected a man’s secrets probably had plenty of her own, and Clay found himself wondering now if there might be some truth to that. Or maybe he was just trying to justify his own curiosity about Antonia. But he thought that confiding some of those difficult truths to Antonia might encourage her to do the same.

  “Bennett is Delia’s surname. Since she didn’t have a name for the baby, the nurse put ‘Baby Bennett’ on his hospital ID bracelet and Delia decided it was good enough.”

  * * *

  Antonia was as shocked as she was appalled by his story, although she realized that she shouldn’t have been so surprised. Any woman who could walk away from her own child—especially one as wonderful as Bennett—clearly hadn’t formed any kind of attachment to that child. And it worried her, just a little, to think that she could ever feel so disconnected from her own child.

  Was it possible that she might not bond with her baby? Antonia honestly couldn’t imagine the possibility. She already felt as if there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her son or daughter, but she’d heard stories about women suffering postpartum depression who didn’t want to be anywhere near their babies, or women who had endured such excruciatingly painful labor they couldn’t stand to look at the infants they’d delivered.

  But this wasn’t about her—it was about Bennett, and Clay’s apparent unhappiness regarding the origin of his son’s name. “I don’t think how he got his name matters as much as the fact that he’s a Traub,” she said to Clay. “And it’s obvious that his family adores him.”

  “You’re right,” he admitted. “And I am grateful that she at least put my surname on his birth certificate.”

  “The right name—R-I-G-H-T,” she clarified, with a small smile, “can give a child a sense of belonging in a community. In Thunder Canyon, there are few names
that carry as much weight as Traub, Cates or Clifton.”

  “That’s just because there’s so many of us.”

  “That might be part of it,” she agreed.

  “What surname will your baby have?” he asked.

  She should have been prepared for the question. He was hardly the first person to ask about the father of her baby, although she did give him credit for being a little more subtle than most. “The Wright name,” she said, and smiled again. “W-R-I-G-H-T.”

  “Does that mean the rumors in town are true?”

  “There are so many rumors, I’ve lost track.”

  “The one about you wanting a baby so desperately you went to a clinic in Bozeman.”

  “I do want this baby desperately,” she told him honestly.

  “You didn’t want your baby to have a traditional family?”

  “If you’re asking if I ever dreamed about falling in love and getting married, the answer is yes. But it didn’t happen that way for me and, even without a husband, I wanted a baby.”

  “Aren’t you kind of young to have given up on your dreams?”

  “I’m thirty,” she told him.

  “As I said.”

  She shook her head. “I’m ready.”

  “I wasn’t,” he confided. “In fact, there are still days that I’m not.”

  “Well, you do a pretty good job of faking it.”

  He smiled. “Now maybe, but you should have seen me at the beginning.”

  “I think every new parent is scared at the beginning.”

  “Well, I didn’t have any time to prepare,” he admitted. “The last time I’d seen Delia, she’d basically said, ‘It’s been fun but I’m moving on to bigger and better things,’ and then she was gone. Nine months later, without any word or warning, she shows up on my doorstep with a baby in her arms and I’m just supposed to believe he’s mine? Especially after she’d assured me that she was on the Pill?”

  “No form of birth control is one hundred percent effective,” Antonia pointed out.

  Still, at least he’d been aware and taking precautions. Antonia had been aware and careless. Sometimes Gene would use a condom, sometimes he wouldn’t, and she hadn’t worried too much because she’d been in love and hadn’t thought that having a baby with the man she loved would be a bad thing. It had never occurred to her that she might end up having that baby on her own.