A Daddy for Dillon

by Stella Bagwell

  His hand moved into her hair and her breathing grew shallow as he gently stroked his fingers through the long strands. His touch made her feel so special, more special than she’d ever felt in her life.

  “You don’t have to second-guess yourself now, Leyla. You made the right choice to come here to the ranch,” he said quietly. “And I promise you, I’m not going to be deceptive or mean to you.”

  With everything inside her, she wanted to believe him. Yet she couldn’t begin to know what was really in this man’s heart. And until she found out, she could never risk hers.

  Closing her eyes, she said, “It’s easy to make promises, Laramie. Keeping them is the hard part.”

  “I’m smart enough to know I’ll have to earn your trust, with more than words.”

  She’d not been expecting anything like that from him, and before she could stop herself she turned and rested her cheek against the middle of his chest.

  His hands settled lightly against her back as though to say she could stay or go. The choice was hers to make. The fact that he was giving her that choice gave her the courage to linger and let the comfort of his embrace wash over her.

  The atrium was so quiet she could hear the steady beat of his heart and for a few precious moments, she let the sound lull her, the warmth of his body spread into hers. But all too soon that warmth stirred desire deep within her and with a sense of regret, she eased back from him.

  “It’s getting late. I’d better go check on Dillon,” she told him.

  “Good night, Leyla.”

  “Yes. Good night,” she murmured, then hurried into the house before her body could persuade her to run back to him.

  *

  The next morning at breakfast, Leyla didn’t see Laramie. Whether he’d been called out on some ranching matter or had still been asleep, she had no way of knowing. She wasn’t about to climb the stairs and check his room, and she told herself not to fret about the man. It was Sunday, anyway, and she wasn’t expected to cook his meals today.

  Sometimes she asked herself if she actually had a job. If it weren’t for cooking meals for her and Dillon and making lunches and snacks for Sassy, she wouldn’t have much to do at all. At least the idle time was giving her the opportunity to dig into the textbooks on nursing Bridget had given her.

  Thankfully, when she’d left the family home and gone to live with Oneida, she’d been able to finish the last semester of high school on the reservation and receive her diploma. Now she had plans to attend college and become a nurse so that she could help people just like her aunt. Maybe that was too lofty a dream for a young woman raising a child on her own, but she was determined to reach her goal.

  Later that morning, she was changing linens on Dillon’s bed when she heard a faint knocking noise out in the small living area.

  Expecting to find her son banging his toys together, she was surprised to see he was busy with his crayons and coloring book.

  “Dillon, what was that noise? Were you pounding on something?”

  “No.” He shook his head and pointed to the door that separated their apartment from the main house. “That noise there.”

  As Leyla started toward the door, the knock sounded again, making her hurry across the thick carpet. When she opened it to find Laramie standing on the threshold, her mouth very nearly fell open. Even though he basically lived in the same house, he’d never come to her door or implied he wanted to visit her apartment.

  “Laramie,” she said, trying not to stare at the rugged image framed by the doorway. Everything about him spelled the word man in big bold letters.

  This morning he was wearing his usual cowboy work gear of jeans and boots and black cowboy hat, except that his sturdy denim shirt had been replaced with a moss-green cotton. The sleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms, and the color made the blue in his eyes stand out even more. But it was the lazy curve of his grin that made her heart do a fluttery two-step.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I was beginning to think you and Dillon must still be asleep.”

  “At eleven o’clock?” She laughed outright. “That would be the day.”

  “Uh—” He peeped past the partially opened door. “Are you busy?”

  Realizing she was treating him like an unwanted salesman, she pushed the door wide and motioned for him to enter the apartment. “Please come in. I was cleaning in the bedroom and didn’t hear your knock. And I’ve warned Dillon not to open the door for anyone. I guess I should explain to him that here on the ranch it’s okay.”

  He said, “He’s learned a good rule. No need to confuse him by breaking it now.”

  At that moment, Dillon looked up from his coloring book and spotted Laramie standing next to his mother. The child leaped to his feet and raced over to join them.

  Squatting to Dillon’s level, Laramie gathered him in the circle of his arm. “How’s my partner today?”

  “You not eat breakfast,” the boy said with a faint pout.

  Faintly surprised, Laramie glanced up at Leyla. “I didn’t realize he kept tabs on me.”

  “He watches for you,” Leyla explained. And so do I, she could have added.

  Laramie’s attention turned back to Dillon. “I’m sorry that I missed breakfast with you, Dillon. Did you eat what your mommy made for you?”

  The boy gave him one affirmative nod. “I ate it all up.”

  “That’s good. That means your muscles are going to grow fast.” He made a show of testing Dillon’s upper arm. “Think you’re strong enough to ride a pony today?”

  “Laramie!” Leyla practically gasped. “I don’t—”

  Dillon’s dark brown eyes popped wide open. “Yeah, yeah! Ride pony! I wanna ride pony!”

  Leyla rolled her eyes while Dillon jumped up and down with excitement.

  Laramie smiled at her. “Trust me, Mommy, it will be fine. You’ll see.”

  I’ll have to earn your trust. When he’d spoken those words to her last night, something in his voice caused her to melt inside. And from that moment on, she’d realized it would be wrong to shut him out without giving him the chance to prove himself trustworthy.

  “If you’re sure about this,” she conceded. “Dillon has never been up close to a large animal like a horse or cow.”

  “Well, he’s about to do both,” he said with a grin. “You two get ready and we’ll walk down to the barns.”

  She glanced at a digital clock sitting on a nearby table. It was already after eleven. “What about lunch? Wouldn’t it be better if we waited until after we ate?”

  “I already have lunch for the three of us planned.” He clapped his hands in a hurry-up gesture. “So get with it, woman. Time is wasting.”

  Questions whirled through her mind, but she didn’t voice them. Dillon was already bouncing on his toes with excitement, and to be honest with herself, she was excited, too. Last night she’d told Laramie that she wished she could simply let herself live and enjoy. Well, today she was going to try to do just that.

  “Come on, Dillon,” she said while reaching for her son’s hand. “If you want to ride the pony, you’ll have to put on your jeans. Cowboys wears jeans. Right, Laramie?”

  “You bet,” he said, the grin returning to his face. “And cowboys never cry, either.”

  Pausing she glanced around at him. “Never?” she asked skeptically.

  “Well, almost never,” he amended with a shrug.

  She couldn’t imagine this strong, rugged man ever shedding a tear. But he’d been Dillon’s age once. Had he cried for a mother who was nowhere to be found? He couldn’t have, she thought. At Dillon’s age, he’d not even known what having a mother meant. Just like Dillon didn’t know what it was to have a daddy. But later her son would grow up to learn exactly what he was missing. What would she tell him then? What had Laramie’s old guardian told him?

  Whenever I look at Dillon I see a lot of myself.

  Laramie’s telling words had set Leyla’s mind to thinking and her heart to ac
hing. But she was going to do her best not to dwell on those poignant thoughts today.

  “That’s good to know,” she told Laramie. “The next time Dillon has a crying fit, I’ll be happy to let you deal with him.”

  Chuckling, Laramie gave the boy a conspiring wink. “I have all kinds of things to cure crying fits.”

  “That’s what scares me,” Leyla said with a good-natured groan, then hurriedly ushered her son into the bedroom.

  Chapter Six

  The sky was practically clear and the sun already very warm when, a few minutes later, the three of them left the house and started walking in a westerly direction toward the barns.

  As they traveled along at a slow pace, Dillon held on to Laramie’s hand and made a game of jumping over every rock that was larger than the size of an egg. Next to them Leyla enjoyed the sun on her face and the tangy scent of juniper and pine drifting on the breeze. May was a beautiful time in New Mexico, particularly when she could be outdoors sharing it with Laramie and Dillon.

  It was Sunday so the work had been geared down to only taking care of necessary chores around the barn. Even so, a group of saddled horses was tethered outside a wooden corral and two men were loading bales of alfalfa onto a flatbed truck.

  As the trio walked past, the men acknowledged them with a wave. Leyla figured they were probably surprised to see Laramie with a woman and child in tow. From what Sassy had told her, he wasn’t seen around the ranch with women. Did that make her special? No. Laramie was only being kind to a child who desperately needed a man’s company. That was all this was about, she told herself.

  They’d walked a fair distance from the house when Dillon’s short legs began to slow. Laramie stopped and looked down at him. “Have you ever been on a piggyback ride, Dillon?”

  Dillon looked puzzled and Leyla explained, “He doesn’t know what you mean.”

  After slanting her a meaningful look, he bent down to the boy. “Okay, Dillon. Climb onto my back and put your arms around my neck, then hold on tight. Really tight.”

  The boy did as he commanded and once Laramie raised to his full height, he took a firm hold on Dillon’s little legs.

  “Look, Mommy! I’m high up! Real high!” Dillon shouted with a happy squeal.

  Leyla smiled up at her son. Thanks to Laramie, the child’s eyes were sparkling and it was plain to see he was on the adventure of his life. “Yes, you’re way taller than I am now,” she said to him.

  Traveling the next hundred yards at a faster pace, they finally reached the area where Laramie had left a saddled pony inside a small wooden corral.

  Laramie lowered Dillon to the ground and led him over to the board fence. “Dillon, this pretty pony’s name is Cocoa. And he especially likes boys like you. Want to take a closer look at him?”

  Dillon nodded without hesitation, and Laramie lifted the boy so he could peer over the top rail of the fence. Laramie called to the pony and the animal immediately came trotting over to inspect his visitors.

  Dillon watched in awe as Laramie stroked the horse’s blazed face.

  “You can touch his nose, too,” Laramie encouraged the boy. “Cocoa likes to be patted. He’s a big baby.”

  Dillon tentatively reached out and touched the white stripe on Cocoa’s face, then looked at his mother and giggled. “He’s a baby pony, Mommy. See? He likes me.”

  “The baby pony has big teeth,” Leyla couldn’t help saying.

  Laramie laughed. “The better to eat you with, my dear,” he teased Leyla, then quickly added, “Don’t worry. Cocoa doesn’t bite or kick or buck or have any of those nasty habits. He’s one of the horses that Riley and Clancy ride when they’re here visiting the ranch. Cocoa is what we cowboys call bombproof.”

  Leyla sighed with relief. “That’s good to know.”

  For the next few minutes, Laramie allowed the child to get acquainted with the horse before he finally took him into the corral and lifted him into the tiny saddle.

  Once he was actually on Cocoa’s back and Laramie had secured his feet in the stirrups, Dillon was beside himself with excitement, yet to Leyla’s surprise he obediently followed Laramie’s instructions to sit still and not yell or flap his legs.

  “Grab on to this and hang on tight. Just like you held on to my neck,” Laramie told the boy as he guided Dillon’s little hands to the saddle horn. “And here we go.”

  Laramie began to lead the pony in a very slow walk around the corral. As Leyla watched the two of them, she couldn’t stop a rush of emotion from misting her eyes. Her son was riding a horse for the very first time in his life. And all because Laramie had cared enough to give Dillon the time and attention. No matter what happened between her and the ranch manager in the future, Leyla would always be grateful to him for this.

  She called to Dillon from her perch on the fence, saying, “You look like a real cowboy.”

  Laramie stopped the horse alongside the fence where she sat. “Dillon will really look the part when he gets a pair of boots and a hat,” he told her.

  Leyla had to stifle a groan. Didn’t the man realize Dillon was listening to every word? The child would hound her for days now about boots and a hat.

  She’d not even gotten the thought out of her head when Dillon spoke up, “Me want boots and hat, Mommy. Like Laramie.”

  She shot Laramie a reproving look. “Now look what you’ve done. Those things are far beyond my budget. Why did you—”

  Laramie lifted a hand to interrupt. “Before you get all bent out of shape, let me deal with this. Most likely Riley and Clancy have plenty of stuff they’ve outgrown. I’ll ask Maura if she has anything stored away that might fit Dillon.”

  Leyla had never met Maura Cantrell, but she did know that the woman was Dr. Bridget Chino’s sister and that the two women worked together at Dr. Chino’s medical clinic in Ruidoso. Leyla would be forever grateful to Bridget and her husband, Johnny—not only for helping deliver her son, but also for being her friends and helping her get this better-paying job at the Chaparral.

  “Well, if Maura is anything like her sister she must be a very kind lady. But I wouldn’t feel good about you imposing on her.”

  He shot her an impatient look. “There you go again. Remember what I told you about everyone helping each other around here?”

  “Yes. But that’s not good unless it goes both ways. It’s not right for me to always be on the receiving end. And I don’t know of anything I could do to help a woman like Maura Cantrell.”

  “Just be a good employee and a friend. That’s enough, Leyla. You don’t need money to do that.”

  “Boots. I gonna wear boots and hat.” Dillon emphasized the last statement by plopping the palms of his hands atop his dark brown hair. “I gonna be cowboy.”

  The happiness on her son’s face made everything else seem insignificant, and she smiled at him. “Okay, if you’re going to be a cowboy, what is Mommy going to be?”

  Tilting his head to one side, Dillon contemplated her question for a moment. “You gonna be Mommy.”

  “Smart kid,” Laramie said with a laugh.

  *

  After several more minutes of Dillon riding the pony, Laramie suggested it was time they stop for lunch. Because cowboys had to eat and stay strong, he explained to Dillon. But the riding instruction continued as he showed the child how the horse had to be taken care of by removing his bridle and saddle and brushing down his coat.

  “Cocoa is hungry,” Dillon told Laramie as the two of the walked out of the corral.

  “I’m sure he would agree with you,” Laramie said with a chuckle. “But it’s not time for him to eat yet. It would give him a belly ache if he ate too much.”

  “Me no belly ache,” Dillon said, then rubbed a hand across his tummy. “Me hungry.”

  “I am, too, partner.”

  After giving Leyla a hand down from the fence, he ushered the two of them over to a white pickup truck. After the three of them had climbed into the dusty cab, Leyla asked, “Where are
we going? Back to the house to eat lunch?”

  “Not the house,” Laramie answered. “You and Dillon see plenty of that place. I have our lunch in the back of the truck in an insulated chest. The bunkhouse cook threw some things together for us.”

  Since she’d come to work on the ranch, the only people she’d met other than Laramie were Quint, Sassy and Reena. She had a natural curiosity about the crew that worked with Laramie, especially because she never heard him say a bad word about any of them. “That was very thoughtful of the cook. Especially since it’s Sunday.”

  “Ernesto is a good guy. Doing for others makes him happy.”

  “Have you known him for a long time?”

  Laramie started the engine and backed the truck away from the corral fence. “He was here on the ranch for a couple of years before I came.”

  His remark took her by surprise. “You’ve lived here on the ranch for that long?”

  “Nearly eighteen years.”

  As he set the truck in forward motion, she glanced across the bench seat at him. “You must have been very young when you moved here. What about the man who raised you? Didn’t you want to stay with him until you reached adulthood?”

  “Diego had diabetes in the worst kind of way. When his health began to really fail, he made me promise that once he died I would come here to the Chaparral and speak to Lewis about work. I was sixteen when Diego passed on. Just a kid, more or less. Lewis, that was Quint’s father, was still alive back then. And I was fortunate that he took me under his wing. He gave me a job and a place to stay in the bunkhouse.”

  Trying to picture Laramie at that young, vulnerable age, she asked, “Did you know how to do ranch work back then?”

  “Quite a bit. Diego had always had cattle and horses and goats. He’d taught me how to care for them and handle myself around livestock. So it wasn’t like I was a greenhorn. I had lots to learn, though. And over the years, I have.”

  Many times in the past Leyla had felt ignored and forsaken by her family. And when she was really having a pity party for herself, it felt like she didn’t have a family at all. Yet being estranged from her family was far different than not having any family at all. If she really wanted to see her folks, she could swallow her pride and go back to Farmington and stand up to her father. Laramie didn’t have even that option and that reality bothered her greatly.