Counting on a Cowboy

by Debra Clopton

  Relief surged through Abby. “Oh, I think that would be a great idea. He could probably use the help. He was all thumbs today and nervous.” She halted her rattling and felt her cheeks burn. “That would be nice of y’all.”

  Yes, she had just met the man and been thrown into his unusual situation completely by chance. They hardly knew each other. And he made her uncomfortable. But it wasn’t his fault. It was nothing he did—it was her, not him . . . and that was what made her so uncomfortable. She could relax, though, because Levi would be taken care of if Reba and Clara went out there.

  “Okay, well, I better head on back now. I tell you, these cowboys sometimes just won’t reach out and ask for help when they need it,” Clara Lyn said, but she halted before taking two steps. “Oh, before I go—would you like to join our committee and help with the picnic we’re putting on next weekend? We can sure use some help, and we like making new folks feel at home, so we sure want to include you in the festivities. It’s going to be a good old-fashioned dinner on the grounds. Everyone brings a basket with enough food in it for two.”

  The woman jumped around topics like popcorn in the microwave. Abby smiled again. “That sounds fun. What can I do?”

  “We’re going to be out here decorating on Friday, if you’d like to help with that. It’s our inaugural picnic for the shelter and we plan to continue them like they used to do. It’ll be fun. There hasn’t been a town picnic in a hundred years.”

  “Really, so they used to have them here?”

  Clara Lyn’s expression turned rapturous. “Oh, yes. Right here in this park. When I read about them I took it immediately to the town council and they all voted unanimously on it. It’s always good to do things to bring new breath to a place. And we want to keep things rolling on a positive slant to take advantage of all the publicity we got from that TV show.”

  “It sounds like fun.”

  “Oh, it will be. I tell you, I’ve never seen so many women just come into town and walk around for a day. Of course some of the younger ones are wanting to see the cowboys Maggie wrote about.” She chuckled.

  “I’m curious, how does that go over with the cowboys? Are they thrilled about being the draw?” How did Bo feel about it, in other words?

  “Some of them are tickled pink and give them some flirting. And there may have been a date or two come out of it, I don’t really know for sure. It’s hard to keep a finger on all of it. But me and Reba aren’t shy about trying. Someone has to know what’s making the town go round. But I can tell you that there are some of the fellas that aren’t happy about the situation.”

  “It sounds like y’all have it under control.” Abby found herself laughing at the woman’s obvious delight in the matchmaking prospects of the situation. Then it dawned on her that if she were single and newly moved to town she very well could be targeted by their scheming. “Well, I better go. Talk to you later.”

  As she said good-bye and headed back toward the motel Abby’s thoughts immediately went back to Bo . . . and Levi.

  She couldn’t help wondering if the baby was really his. And she was glad he was about to get some help—help that wasn’t her.

  8

  “What do you mean, change his diaper?” Jarrod boomed, holding the baby away from him like he was a sack of potatoes gone rank. “He smells like the south end of a pole cat.”

  Bo glared at his older brother. The man worked with cows every day and had mucked out plenty of stalls—and so had he for that matter. But Bo needed a break. “Lay him down and take that atrocious thing off, then clean him up and strap on another one. It’s like mucking out a stall.”

  “Hey, I did not sign on for this.”

  “Uncle Jarrod—uncles do this sort of thing all the time.”

  Jarrod glared at him with his piercing gunmetal eyes. “You do it. If I’m an uncle then it’s not because of anything I did.”

  “I’m not the one holding him.”

  Jarrod crossed the living room and pushed the baby at Bo. “Take him.”

  “Aw, come on, Jarrod. Give me a break. I’ve changed him three times and you should see the stuff coming out of that kid. Maybe we should take him to the doc.”

  “I’m pretty sure what you’re seeing is normal. I’m just not ready to deal with it myself. And that’s why you don’t see me with a wife or a baby.”

  Bo barely knew Abby Knightley, but he’d have given her a million dollars to have stayed here and helped him out.

  Then came a knock on the door, and this time when Jarrod shoved Levi at Bo, he automatically grabbed him. Jarrod walked through the living room and out into the entrance hall. Bo met Levi’s wide eyes, amazed the kid wasn’t wailing. Resigned to the duty before him, he strode toward the couch where he had a towel laid out. He’d already learned when he changed a diaper everything in the immediate vicinity needed to be protected. Including himself. If he’d been smart he’d have bought a rain suit while he was at the store. The kid was dangerous. Bo had been given a shower the first time he’d undone the diaper.

  The unmistakable voices of Clara Lyn and Reba drifted from the hallway. And the next thing he knew the cavalry rushed into the room. To the rescue, more accurately.

  “Bo Monahan, you look like you could use a helping hand,” Clara Lyn said, hustling across the living room with Reba right behind her.

  He figured he probably looked like a starving man being offered a steak. “I wouldn’t turn it down.”

  The ladies crowded round and started cooing and talking in weird voices to the boy. “Oh, look at the wittle fella. Aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes? Yes, you are. Oh, yes, you are.” Clara Lyn carried on as she shooed Bo out of the way and took his place on the couch. Levi gave her a grin while she continued her Elmer Fudd language.

  “You are a stinky fella,” Reba added, smoothing Levi’s hair.

  In the blink of an eye they had that diaper off and those wipes efficiently swiping. Within seconds there was a new diaper in place—actually on straight.

  “There, he’s all smelling nice again,” Clara said, picking him up.

  Reba turned to Bo and handed him the offensive diaper, all balled up and neatly taped together with the tabs. “You two can dispose of this, please.”

  Bo reached for it with two fingers and then took it to the back porch and stuffed it in the plastic bag with the others. When he entered the living room again Jarrod looked less stressed and the ladies were having the time of their lives entertaining the boy. His boy.

  Bo had still not gotten used to the thought. Of course he knew there was a high likelihood that the boy wasn’t his, but then there was that one time, that chance that he was. And until he knew otherwise, he would do what he needed to do to make it right for the little fella. He just wished those nasty diapers didn’t come with the territory.

  Abby jogged through a tree-lined neighborhood not far from the motel the next morning, enjoying the feel of energy that hummed through her with each stride she took. She’d always loved to run, but since the wreck she’d only gotten back to it in the recent months. Her extensive injuries had made it impossible until then, and even now she wasn’t back up to speed, but she was grateful that she was doing it at all. It was one of those things she’d never take for granted again.

  When she’d been confined to a wheelchair, she’d feared she’d never get the chance again. But though she wasn’t running marathons yet, and it had taken more time than she wished, she’d finally started jogging a consistent two miles at a time.

  Her phone rang and she thought about just letting the caller leave a voice mail, but she’d reached her jogging limit anyway. Her hip was starting to hurt. She slowed to a walk as she pulled her phone from her pocket and pushed the button.

  “Moving to a town because of an advice column is just plain reckless,” her mother said, repeating what had been her mantra since learning what Abby planned to do. “Come home, Abby.” She hadn’t even given Abby a chance to say hello—she just picked right up
on the conversation they’d had the day Abby had planned to hit the road toward Wishing Springs. Her mother had basically blocked her path. This had become the only conversation they had.

  Abby inhaled heavily. “Good morning to you too,” she said, “and this conversation has grown very old, Mom.”

  “Good morning? I hope it’s a good morning. But I haven’t slept thinking about all this. You’re my daughter and I love you. I know you needed a change. You had become a hermit. But this sits on the edge of crazy, and I’m worried about you even more now that you’ve actually done it.”

  Abby fought to keep her patience. Her mother’s negative attitude had been one reason Abby had been shutting her out of her life. Since Landon’s death she’d helped to cripple Abby with her continual attitude that Abby needed to give herself time to recover. It was almost as if she didn’t think Abby could make a life without Landon. And that wasn’t the kind of thinking Abby needed.

  She’d written into the Gotta Have Hope column and asked Maggie for advice and Maggie had agreed with her. She needed positive thinking right now. And that meant limiting contact with people who couldn’t give that to her. Of course Abby had basically limited contact with everyone. And that hadn’t been good either.

  “Maybe that’s the whole point of this. I’m too cautious. Too fearful. I’m predictable and boring. Maybe I need to be a little crazy.”

  She could hear her mother’s heavy sigh. Could envision the small worry frown that would etch her expression. Abby loved her mom despite recognizing that she exacerbated Abby’s problem. “You know it’s true.”

  “I know that, Abby, but you’ve only just lost your husband two years ago. Moving like this doesn’t make sense.”

  “Stop. I’m here and so far it’s not been exactly what I’d expected, but I’m staying.”

  “What do you mean not been what you expected?” her mom asked, ignoring the first part of Abby’s declaration.

  “I hit a cow—I mean a steer—and then found a baby on a doorstep—”

  “What do you mean you hit a cow? And a baby—what baby? Are you kidding me?”

  Abby cringed at her mother’s shrill hysteria. “It’s okay, I didn’t mean that literally. What I meant was I almost hit a cow, but missed it and took out a fence, messing up my car. I made it through all of it. Bo Monahan came to my rescue with the cow and he and his brother Jarrod got the wrecker out there. The car is being repaired right now.”

  “But you’re okay.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you said a baby on a doorstep. What do you mean? How did you find a baby on a doorstep? Whose baby?”

  Abby told her everything, well, almost everything. She kept to herself the disturbing attraction she felt toward Bo. There would be no end to her mother’s distress about that.

  “So what are you going to do? Oh, Abby, a baby.”

  Abby rubbed her temple. “I don’t know, Mom. I keep thinking about Levi, the baby. But I didn’t come here to get tangled up with a cowboy and his mixed-up life.” Guilt zinged her, because she sounded so callous. As if she were being too hard on Bo. But he had clearly been doing things that had major consequences. Things she just didn’t believe in. When a man and a woman had a physical relationship, it was to be after they were married. She couldn’t help how others viewed it—that was the way she believed.

  She and Landon had waited, though it hadn’t been easy, but Landon had respected her wishes and he’d liked them . . .

  “Abby, I still can’t believe you quit your job. Mr. Case called and asked me to tell you you can have it back any time you want it. You loved your career. It’s not too late to come back. You could buy another house or better yet, get you a smaller condo. You won’t have a yard to worry with and you’ll be safe.”

  Abby cringed at the thought of going back to her marketing career. After the accident she’d taken an extended leave of absence with plans to go back, and her boss had been so patient and kind. But she knew part of that came from the fact that she’d been a relentless, dedicated employee who did an outstanding job for him. At the sacrifice of her home life. Abby had put far too much focus on her career, on moving up the corporate ladder and now, yes, she had money in the bank but an empty life . . . bile rose in her throat as weakness swept over her at the thought of even walking back into that building ever again.

  And her mom saying that a condo in Houston was safer than this small town with a practically nonexistent crime rate would have been laughable in another conversation.

  “I’ll be fine. I can’t go back to corporate life—it cost me too much. Mom, you have to stop this. I don’t want my old career back.” There, she was putting her foot down once more. But this time with a little more force. Maybe distance helped her disconnect from feeling as if she were betraying her mother by saying this. “I’m staying here and that’s that. I committed to it and, well, I like it, despite the unusual beginnings. And I’m safe and you know it.”

  Her mother huffed. “Abby, I have done nothing but care about you. I loved Landon like he was my son. And he would not want you doing this. He would want you getting back to the life y’all had made here. With your friends that you’ve shut out and continue to shut out. Kim called me yesterday worried about you.”

  The exasperation and irritation of her mother’s words struck her. And her friend Kim loved her, but had been pushing for Abby to do what she thought was best for Abby and finally Abby had to let go. At least for the time being. “That’s just it. I only think about the way things were when I’m with all of you. And the continual talk of how it was, though it helped me cope at first, is now keeping me from making progress. And to be honest, I have to stop thinking about what Landon would want for me. Landon is gone. He’s gone, Mom, and he’s not coming back. And I have to come to terms with that. And so do you and everyone else. I have to make a new life for myself. Because . . .” Her heart pounded and blood was rushing through her veins so quickly it was making her dizzy. “. . . as bad as I hate it, I didn’t die in that car crash. I was left here and whether I like it or not, that’s what I have to live with.”

  Abby’s stomach roiled. “I have to go.” She hated this, hated the strain between them, but everything she’d said was true.

  And that was why she’d had to leave. She hadn’t died and she had to deal with that and find some way to live with that fact.

  9

  Clara Lyn and Reba finally wore the baby out. They’d stayed and helped Bo with getting Levi settled for the night and some supper cooked for Pops. He’d enjoyed it and they’d acted as if having a baby in the house was an everyday occurrence. And that it was as easy as breathing. That would be laughable, if he’d been in a laughing mood.

  Jarrod had gone home. And the ladies left—thinking like Bo that now that the little boy was asleep, everything would be great till morning. Boy, had that been a false assumption.

  Not exactly the way it went. Exactly three hours after he went to sleep, all chaos broke out. Levi woke crying and wouldn’t stop. Bo had picked him up and walked all over the house with him. There had been no consoling the kid. Morning’s first light crept over Bo. He’d finally fallen asleep in the recliner with the exhausted baby asleep on his chest.

  He awoke to find Pops standing at the end of the recliner trying to tug Bo’s boots off.

  That was Pops, even with his memory shot to pieces, he was still trying to take care of everyone.

  Only problem was the tugging woke up the baby. And the wailing started again. And Bo suddenly felt something warm spreading over his chest and realized the kid’s diaper was leaking.

  “Great, just great,” he grunted. “It’s okay, Pops, I don’t need my boots off just yet. Can you get me a diaper?”

  “You got it, son.”

  Bo blinked at the familiar words. Then grinned. Whenever Pops had a good day his spirits lifted.

  Stumbling groggily over to the couch where the towel was still spread out, he laid the wailing baby down and t
ried to soothe him as he stripped off the diaper and took the one Pops handed him. “Thanks, Pops,” he said, his voice sounding gravelly with lack of sleep.

  Pops beamed and sat on the edge of the coffee table. “Shh, little Bo, don’t cry. It’s gonna be okay, son.”

  Bo’s gaze shot to his grandfather—did he think Bo was Pops’s son, Bo’s dad? He’d seemed so much more confused this month.

  Bo still had a hard time thinking about his dad. The betrayal hit him hard. How did a man gamble so much that he hocked a ranch to the hilt—a ranch that his own dad had slaved over and built?

  Pops had built the Four of Hearts up to the beauty it was with his own two hands. He’d buried three sons and now his fourth, counting Bo’s dad, and he’d buried a dear wife and a daughter-in-law he’d loved like she was his own blood. He’d had only one other daughter-in-law and she’d remarried a long time ago and moved to Montana.

  He’d lost so much. And before he’d lost his memory to the extent that it was now, he’d known what his only living son had done before dying. Bo blamed his grandfather’s advancing Alzheimer’s on his dad. The strain had been too much.

  And the situation seemed to be deteriorating. He hoped the medication kicked in soon and helped bring him back to them for a little longer.

  It was hard to watch and getting harder, and Levi showing up wasn’t helping the situation.

  “Pops, we better find this baby something to eat, or he’s going to cry himself sick.”

  Pops shot up from the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. Solomon, who had been lying on his back with his legs spread wide in a midmorning nap, grunted, then rolled laboriously to the side and hauled himself up to follow Pops. The creature was a one-man pooch, if useless.

  Bo carried the baby on his shoulder and tried not to think about the caustic scent rising up from the wet area of his shirt. Boy, would he love a shower right now.

  He pulled open the fridge and grabbed the formula that Clara Lyn had premade for him. He managed to get it in the many bottles that Abby had him buy and that the ladies had sterilized before they’d left. He got the formula poured into the bottle, splashing some over the edge when Levi moved around. He had to struggle to keep the kid from twisting out of his one arm. He’d estimated that if Levi was his, then he’d be about one year old. Bo didn’t know anything about babies, but was learning quick that a person needed two sets of hands when dealing with one.