The Cowboy's Baby Bond

by Linda Ford

  He couldn’t be certain, but it sounded as if she added “Without you.”

  Of course they would be fine without him. No reason he should mind if they were.

  He turned to Sarah. “You gonna give me a hug before I leave?”

  She studied him, reluctant at first, as if by being standoffish she could persuade him to change his mind. Then she flew to his arms. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I must.” He kissed her forehead, then straightened.

  He kissed Adam one last time and handed him back to Willow. Johnny should not have met her eyes, but he couldn’t resist. Their looks went deep, as if they each searched for something they’d lost. But lost was lost.

  He was the first to break free and, calling goodbye, he strode from the yard, not turning when Adam called, “Man.” Not turning when his heart ached for him to change his mind.

  Sometimes the heart did not know what was best. Sometimes it was wisest to listen to the brain.

  * * *

  As soon as Adam and the girls had eaten breakfast, Willow toured the house again, making plans as she examined each room. She had a broom, buckets and rags in the wagon. She needed a shovel, and some supplies for meals she could make outdoors until the place was fit to live in.

  She’d examined the stove and knew it would serve the purpose, though the pipes would need a good cleaning.

  “Johnny said we could go to the ranch.” Celia stood in the doorway observing her. “Why don’t we go there?”

  Celia must have been awake and overheard their conversation. “We need our own home and we’ll get it.” Willow examined the sagging cupboard and mentally added hammer and nails to her list.

  “Or maybe it’s because he’s mad at you.”

  She stared at her sister. “Why do you say that?”

  “Please give me a little credit. You’ve gone from lovey-dovey to hardly being able to speak to each other. And I know he found out about Adam.”

  Willow glanced past Celia to make sure Sarah was out of earshot. She and Adam were playing on the quilt.

  “I meant to take that secret to my grave. I wish I could. He didn’t understand.” Nor did Willow know if Celia did. Last night her sister had listened without comment to Willow’s explanation about why she’d married Bertie and why they had moved away. She had no idea what her sister thought about it. Nor was she eager to learn.

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Celia, people can be very judgmental and downright mean. I want to spare Adam that.”

  “Yes, I understand about people not being nice.” Bitterness soured Celia’s words.

  Willow’s heart hit bottom. “I had no idea about Mrs. Reames.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “Now, if you’d said that about Mr. Reames, I wouldn’t have been surprised, but I thought it was surely a man’s trait. I thought Bertie was like his father. But that doesn’t matter.” She had no wish to make it seem she was sorry for herself. “I regret you experienced that. If I’d known...”

  Celia’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying Bertie was like his mother?”

  He’d tried to hit her once, but Willow had flared into action, catching his arm and twisting it before his blow reached her. He’d been shocked at her strength, as had she. But anger had made her fierce. He’d never tried to strike her again. “More like his father. They didn’t use weapons. They used words, and words can do every bit as much damage.”

  “Here I thought you were having the time of your life—free and easy.”

  Celia hadn’t said she regretted any of her harsh words, hadn’t said things would be different now, but Willow had to believe she meant that.

  Willow stood in the middle of the foul kitchen. “This is our chance to start over and make a family like the one we knew with our parents.”

  Celia’s eyebrows headed for her hairline. “Don’t remember our parents expecting us to live in a dump like this.” She turned on her heel to leave.

  Willow got in a final word. “I recall Mama saying it wasn’t what you had but who you shared it with that mattered.” She couldn’t say if Celia heard or not, but Willow felt her resolve strengthening. She had her family. It didn’t matter that Johnny was no longer in the picture. And she had to believe that.

  “Girls, I’m going to the store for supplies. Could you stay here and look after Adam?”

  “Sure,” Sarah said.

  “Celia?” Willow couldn’t leave Adam with a ten-year-old. She needed her other sister’s cooperation.

  “I’ll stay.” A grudging agreement, but it was enough, and Willow tied on her bonnet and went to the general store.

  As she stepped inside, memories grabbed at her. Last time she’d been here, Johnny had been at her side, insisting he would take her to the train. Even at the time, she’d been impressed at his steadiness, his commitment to his word, his sense of honor. Why hadn’t she seen the flip side of that? How judgmental he’d be. How unforgiving of the mistakes of others.

  Being in the family way out of wedlock was surely the biggest mistake she’d ever made, but sometimes she thought marrying Bertie was on par. And now she’d learned leaving the girls with the Reameses was an equally bad mistake. She squared her shoulders. Bringing the girls here and making a family was not another.

  Mr. Marsh looked up as she entered. “Why, it’s Mrs. Reames. Have you moved into the house?”

  “I’m working on it.” She rattled off the things she needed. He talked as he gathered up the supplies.

  “How is the house?”

  “Needs a good cleaning.”

  “Guess that’s to be expected.”

  “One window needs repairing.”

  “I’ll have to order in the glass. Just bring me the measurements. In the meantime...” He told her how to repair the hole with two pieces of wood screwed together on either side of the remaining window glass.

  She trundled back to the house, got the coal bucket from the wagon and set to work shoveling up the debris. Every time the pail was full, she carried it out back and dumped it. She’d likely have to hire someone to carry away the pile.

  Sweat dripped from her forehead and down her back as she labored.

  “Can I help?” Sarah asked.

  Willow straightened. “Can you lift the pail?” Already it was full again.

  Her little sister struggled with it, but carried it to the pile and returned.

  Celia played with Adam, watching the proceedings but offering no help.

  What would Johnny have to say about her attitude? It seemed to Willow that he’d thought telling Celia the truth would ease the tension between them, but so far it had not. Perhaps Celia saw her as a fallen woman now. Willow worked her jaw back and forth, trying to ease the tension. First Johnny and now Celia. She didn’t like it, didn’t enjoy the feeling of being censured, marked as soiled, but she could bear it so long as it didn’t change their opinion of Adam.

  She stared into the distance, beyond the walls in front of her. Johnny talked about trust, but he didn’t offer it. The truth had turned him against her.

  Pushing aside the acid-like pain consuming her insides, she turned her attention to cleaning the house. Pail after pail of garbage went to the alley. By the end of the day, she was coughing up dust and the pile had grown to the size of a small hill. But she could now see the wooden floors. Tomorrow she would clean the stove so she could heat a continual supply of water. Too weary to even rejoice at her progress, she gratefully accepted the stew Celia had made over the campfire.

  Her sister had steadfastly refused to help clean the house, but she had taken care of Adam and made both dinner and supper.

  Aching in places she hadn’t known existed, Willow prepared for bed before the sun had reached the tops of the mountains. But sleep did not come easily. Instead, her thoughts twisted
and turned. She’d told Sarah that loving meant trusting. Why couldn’t Johnny trust her? Why hadn’t she trusted him? Why did her throat choke up when she thought of him? Had she fallen in love with him?

  Did she even know what love was? Mama and Papa had loved each other and loved their daughters. Willow searched her memories for ways they’d showed it, but all she could remember was how they touched each other and smiled, how they were so free with caresses and kind words with their girls. They must have had disagreements, but never within sight or earshot of Willow. Did they have secrets? Of course not. But then neither of them had a shameful past to hide.

  She wakened the next morning so stiff she could barely move. She made a pot of coffee, thinking it had been only a few days ago when she and Johnny had shared coffee around a fire and she’d been so content with her lot. Maybe, she reluctantly admitted, she had allowed herself to picture seeing more and more of him. Even then she’d known it couldn’t be. She’d simply ignored what she knew and went with what she wished for. And now she must pay the price and endure the wrenching pain in her heart.

  * * *

  For four days she cleaned, until her hands were raw and bleeding. She fixed the window as best she could. She nailed the ceiling back in place. She repaired the chairs, rehung the cupboard and with Celia’s help moved in the bed and mattress. An inquiry at the store netted her some used furniture, so there was a bed in the second room, a baby cot for Adam and enough chairs for each of them and even a spare. Mr. Marsh offered her a battered old sofa free of charge. Willow covered it with the quilt they had used for the meals they ate outdoors as they traveled. Every time she saw it, she thought of those happier times, and when she sat on it she could almost feel Johnny’s arms around her, or his hand on hers, offering comfort and strength.

  “Girls, tomorrow is Sunday and we’re going to church. We’ll all bathe tonight.” Willow didn’t have the energy to argue and was grateful when they agreed.

  Sunday morning, she eagerly prepared for church. This would be her first time going since she’d left the Reameses’ home. And she knew what she would pray for. God, I am prepared to trust You, whatever happens. Please help me get over Johnny.

  Despite her prayer, she glanced around the congregation, hoping to see him, or at least some of the Harding family. But none of them were there. Still, both the hymns that they sang and the sermon they heard filled her heart with courage. Why had she run from God all this time? Now she was prepared to run to Him for strength to live the life she had chosen. Her sisters and her son were all she needed.

  Though perhaps not all she wanted.

  Answering her wants had led her down this lonely path in the first place, however. She could hardly expect to undo her choices, but certainly did not plan to ever repeat them. Her lonely heart must be ignored.

  She told herself that over and over as the pain of missing Johnny swept through her. Would she ever succeed in forgetting him?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Johnny stood back and admired the repaired shingles on the cabin. It was almost ready for Thad’s arrival. His thoughts hearkened back to Granite Creek and the house Willow would be trying to get livable. Nothing she did would make it fit for them to stay in. But it wasn’t his business. That chapter of his life was closed.

  He turned to take in the wide vista of rolling hills and the flashing water of the stream. From here, he couldn’t hear the waterfall, but had only to climb the hill and pass through a narrow break between the rocks to see it. It was one of the many things he liked about the place.

  With a restless sigh, he turned back to the task before him. There remained a few more repairs to complete on the house, and work to do in preparing the corrals, but consumed with disquiet, he saddled Gray and galloped down the hill and across the valley with no destination in mind.

  He hadn’t gone home since his brief visit days ago after leaving Willow. Maisie had demanded a report and he’d given her the bare details. “We had to go looking for the girls. Two men were tracking them. Those two are now in jail awaiting trial. I left Willow and her family in Granite Creek. That’s about all there is to it.”

  Maisie had studied him with those all-seeing eyes that had ferreted the truth from the three Harding boys from the time she’d arrived at the ranch. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He hadn’t been telling her how he’d let his heart rule his head. Nor had he been telling her that Willow had been less than honest with him. For sure he wouldn’t share Willow’s secret. “I made certain they were where they wanted to be. Now I have to live up to my promise to Thad.”

  And he intended to do just that.

  Now, as he rode at a breakneck pace, the wind whistled past his ears like a high-pitched voice calling his name.

  He reined in and listened, then shook his head. He imagined the voice and tipped his head skyward. Why had he thought he heard Willow calling him?

  Once he’d spent his restless energy, he reined in Gray and returned to the cabin, ready to focus his every thought on the tasks before him. Finding it easier to forget Willow outdoors, he went to the corrals. They needed to be ready for the horses when Thad arrived.

  Johnny pounded in spikes, welcoming the shudder up his arm. He picked up broken planks and carried them to the woodpile. Still, errant thoughts wormed their way into his mind. Did Willow find enough fuel for her stove? Had she cleaned the house enough that it was fit to move into? Was Adam walking now? Did Celia get over her unhappiness?

  “I am not going to think of them,” he shouted to the sky. Gray snorted in surprise. Johnny took off his cowboy hat, slapped it on his thigh and jammed it back onto his head. He jogged toward Gray, then grabbed the nearest fence post and held on. He was not going to ride to town and get all his questions answered.

  “Without truth and trust, love cannot exist,” he muttered. And yet it did.

  No. He would deny it to his death.

  Shouldn’t Thad have arrived by now? The sooner he got here, the better. They could start working on the horses. And Johnny would have someone to talk to besides himself.

  The next day he returned to working on the corrals. Needing to extend them, he dug postholes. As he worked, sweat soaked his shirt and his palms stung. If he had his guess, he’d say Willow would be suffering blisters by now. Cleaning that house would take a lot of work.

  “Not again,” he shouted. Every time he turned around, his thoughts slipped back to her.

  Enough. He grabbed the handles of the digger and squinted at the growing hole. For another hour he dug holes, determined not to think of Willow. Hadn’t she felt good in his arms? Her kiss had been so sweet, he paused to touch his lips.

  Realizing he had again failed to keep his mind off her, he stomped away in frustration and headed for the waterfall. Pulling off his boots, tossing his hat aside, he stood under the icy water, letting it wash away the dirt and sweat from his body and clothing, begging for it to erase Willow from his mind. Wouldn’t she enjoy the falls? He could almost see her and her sisters frolicking in the spray, laughing as it washed over their faces, while he held little Adam so he could watch.

  Johnny groaned. Forgetting was not going to come easily.

  Day after day he worked on getting the place ready for Thad. He paused on Sunday to rest, but didn’t go to the ranch. Instead, he went for a long ride and ended up at the cathedral of the trees. Maybe he would find peace there. He dismounted and followed the trail inside.

  As always, calm settled about him as he reached the center.

  He knelt, lifted his face to the light breaking through the arches and let his thoughts go where they would.

  God, am I making a mistake?

  He had not meant to say that. He wasn’t wrong. Truth and trust were essential.

  Was she right, as well? Could they both be right? But how was it possible, when
the beliefs and choices of one negated those of the other?

  He sat back on his heels to think.

  Her only concern had been to protect Adam. And perhaps avoid the censure that would be aimed at her, too.

  Johnny’s insides clenched. If he caught so much as a whiff of judgment toward any of them, he would—

  A lump lodged in his throat. He was guilty of the very thing he meant to protect her from.

  The realization burned a path from his head to his heart. But he couldn’t get past knowing that she hadn’t trusted him. That she hadn’t believed he wouldn’t judge her.

  Yet he’d done exactly that. Not for being forced to marry. He could forgive that. He’d judged her for her reasons for keeping her secret.

  Could he forgive the lack of trust?

  The answer did not come, and a short time later, he left the place and returned home.

  Two days later he still did not have an answer. He straightened from the latest posthole as a cold wind shivered down his back. Black clouds scudded across the sky. To the west, the sky had grown overcast, threatening rain. A soaker approached. He gathered up his tools and carried them to the shed, led Gray into the barn and headed for the cabin.

  A nice warm, dry cabin. He could light the fireplace and settle down with a book. Instead he watched out the window, walked to the cupboard and stared at the contents without any idea of what he was looking at. He returned to the window and studied the threatening sky.

  His cabin was warm and dry, but the missing shingles on Willow’s house would let the rain pour in. She and the children would be wet and miserable. Willow would rush from one drip to another with pots and bowls and buckets, trying to catch the leaks. Sarah would huddle next to Adam, who would likely cry at his mama’s distress. Johnny couldn’t guess what Celia would do—help Willow or sit with her arms crossed, saying it was as bad as she’d predicted?

  Was he any different than Celia? Standing in a warm, dry cabin knowing what they would face. Willow didn’t deserve it. Nor did her sisters or Adam.