The Bull Rider's Baby

by Brenda Minton

  Instinct took over. Sophie reached, the baby grabbed. Suddenly Sophie had the spit-up-covered baby in her arms and Keeton moved the diapers to his free hand.

  “Don’t get too comfortable. You have to take her back,” Sophie warned. But the baby held tight to her shirt and whimpered. Sophie kissed the little forehead.

  Keeton grinned. “But she looks perfect in your arms. Look at the red in her hair. You’re a match.”

  “This isn’t…”

  He winked then. “Yeah, I know it isn’t.”

  She looked down at the tiny creature in her arms. Lucy smelled positively awful. And she was wet clean through. “You could have warned me.”

  She held the baby out to him and he looked perplexed. And he looked as if he’d just rode in off the range with his faded Levis, washed-out blue, button-up shirt and dusty boots. Surprise, surprise, he didn’t have on chaps, or a gun in a holster on his belt. That would have been a little too Old West, even for Keeton.

  “Sorry.” He didn’t look it. “Do me a favor, hold her for a second. Just give me a chance to get this to the counter.”

  “You know I will.”

  She spotted toaster pastries with blueberry filling and knew exactly what she’d be having for breakfast. With the baby in one hand she grabbed the box and tried to pretend she wasn’t a grown woman buying breakfast food that came in a box and contained more sugar than most cookies.

  “On a health-food kick?” Keeton grabbed a container of baby wipes. “Let me pay and I’ll take her back.”

  “Why is it I think you’d hit that door running if I gave you half a chance?” Sophie followed him to the cash register and almost parked herself between him and the door. “I go first.”

  She put her breakfast on the counter and with her free hand dug in her purse for cash. Keeton dumped his groceries next to hers. He also took the roll of paper towels, and the used ones still wadded up in her hands. Those he tossed behind the counter into a waste basket.

  “I’m buying.” He grinned. “I always told you I’d take you to dinner someday. Looks like I’m buying your breakfast today.”

  “You really don’t have to.”

  “I owe you.” He nodded at the front of her jacket, now soaked and with a trail of spit-up down the front.

  The baby turned into her shoulder and started crying. She rubbed her face back and forth on Sophie’s collar. Baby slime. And goo. And she didn’t have time to go home and change.

  “Keeton West, you never answered.” Trish grinned at the infant. “Where’d you get that pretty baby?”

  He grinned, and Sophie applauded his silence. If he said anything it would be all over town by the end of the day. Or by lunch.

  Trish came around the counter, maternal and an obvious choice to hold the squalling infant clinging to Sophie’s collar.

  “It’s a long story.” Keeton dug his wallet out of his pocket and tossed a couple of bills on the counter.

  “Well, we’ve got time for long stories, don’t we, Jimmy?” Trish touched the baby’s back. “My goodness, she stinks.”

  “Yeah, I ran out of diapers.”

  Warmth spread down Sophie’s front before Trish could take the baby. Now it wasn’t just the back of the baby’s sleeper that was soaked.

  “Uh-oh.” Keeton grabbed the bags Jimmy had set on the counter. “Guess she’s wetter than I thought.”

  “Is she yours?” Trish wouldn’t let go.

  Sophie handed the baby over to Trish, who obviously didn’t care if the infant soaked her clothes. Now that her hands were free, she reached into Keeton’s groceries and pulled out her toaster pastries and the can of soda.

  “These are mine.” Sophie pointed to the baby. “That’s yours.”

  “Is she yours?” Trish pushed on, leaning to kiss the baby’s cheek. “My goodness, she’s warm. Do you have anything to give her for this fever?”

  “Sick and wet, my lucky day.” Sophie headed for the door. “Have fun, Keeton.”

  Keeton, carrying the baby girl and his bag of groceries, caught up with her as she got into her car.

  “Wait.”

  She sighed and stuck the key in the ignition. “What?”

  “I want to talk to you about our land.”

  “Our land?” She knew exactly what he meant, but she didn’t have time for this. Besides that, she had plans for that land.

  “You know what I mean, Sophie. You bought the one hundred that joins up with the twenty I bought. A corporation bought the land on the other side of the road.”

  “So you’re here to buy back West land?”

  “That’s why I’m here. That farm meant everything to my granddad, even to my dad, before…”

  Yeah, before. She looked away, thought about hollow expressions, loss, giving up. The Wests had sold out to the Parkers, and then the Parkers had split the land up, sold it and moved to Kansas last year.

  “Soph, I want to buy it back.”

  “Keeton, I don’t have time to talk.”

  He leaned in, holding the baby that still hadn’t been changed. She cuddled against his shoulder, crying as he tried to continue the conversation. “We need to talk.”

  The stench of the messy, wet baby proved to be more than Sophie could take. She shook her head and moved to get out of the car. Keeton backed up, his words drifting off as she reached for the baby. “We have to change her before we continue this conversation.”

  “I can manage.”

  She took the baby from him and placed her on the backseat of the car. “Give me a diaper. And you’d better have plenty of wipes. And hand sanitizer.” She gagged a little just thinking about what was waiting for her.

  Keeton handed her a diaper and wipes. And then he had the nerve to step back. She tossed him a meaningful look over her shoulder. “Get back here. I’m not doing this alone. You never send a man, or woman, in alone.”

  “Right.” She heard him take a deep breath and he stepped close.

  The diaper was every bit as bad as she imagined. Worse even. After taking it off and cleaning the baby with wipes, she handed Keeton the offending item. He gasped as she shoved it into his hand.

  “Don’t think you get out of this completely.” She smiled over her shoulder at him before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

  Keeton took another deep breath and hurried toward the trash. Sophie smiled at the baby. Lucy, blue-eyed and beautiful, smiled back. Sophie lost her heart. And it had been a long time since she’d done that. So long, in fact, she almost expected it to hurt. The heart was, after all, a muscle. She figured hers might be close to atrophy from lack of use.

  But she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. She also wouldn’t admit that she’d been telling God about her loneliness, thinking maybe He could show her a glimpse of His plan.

  “Thanks.” Keeton grabbed a few wipes as she taped a new diaper in place. “For your hands. It’s the best I can do.”

  She took the wipes and handed him the clean baby. Clean wasn’t really the best word. She needed a bath. Badly.

  “I’d take her home and bathe her if I were you.”

  Keeton looked down at his little girl. “Bathe her?”

  “Yes, with water and soap. It’s a funny little custom most people enjoy daily.”

  “Not funny. I don’t know how to bathe a baby.”

  “You’ll figure it out. And you should run into Grove and get medicine for her fever. Maybe take her to urgent care. She does feel warm.”

  “Great, a sick baby.”

  “Probably just a virus. She’ll be fine. So will you.” She smiled at the sight of him holding the baby. “Daddy.”

  “Daddy.” He looked down at his daughter, his expression downrigh
t wistful and a little confused. “I have a kid.”

  “Looks that way.”

  And then wistful disappeared, replaced by a look of total shock. “What am I going to do with her?”

  “I’d say the same thing parents have done with babies for hundreds of years. Take her home and raise her.”

  “I’m a bull rider. I’m on the road almost half my life. I’m living in a crash pad, not a home.”

  Bull rider. That reminder had her getting back in her car, away from him, away from the tug on her heart and back into her shell. “Yes, well, I’d say you’d better make some improvements.”

  “You could help me.”

  “I did. I changed the nastiest diaper in the history of diapers.”

  “Seriously, Soph, I need help.”

  He sighed and her resolve to be strong, to not get involved, got a little weak in the knees. Not for Keeton, but the baby. “I’ll be around if you have a problem. I live in the old stone house, just a half mile from you.”

  “Right, thanks. And don’t think I’ve forgotten the land. We need to talk.”

  “Later.” She had slid behind the wheel of her car and now she glanced at her watch. She hated being late. She had five minutes to get to Grove for a meeting with a contractor.

  “Dinner?” He leaned in, holding tight to Lucy.

  “Nope. I don’t date bull riders.” She started her car and reached to close the door. He stood there, not moving as she’d given the indication he should do.

  “I’m not asking you out. I meant we could talk business over dinner.”

  Ouch. That hurt a little for some crazy reason. “Good to know, but I’m not accepting.”

  “Fine, I’ll see you later. But we are going to talk about my land.”

  “My land.” She backed out of the parking space. She had her own land. It wasn’t Cooper land. She’d saved money left in a trust from her grandparents. She’d saved residual income from her allotted fifty acres and the few oil wells still pumping. She had her own space in the world. Her own land.

  Her own life that no one else was involved in. Unfortunately her land used to be West land. What had seemed like a great idea months ago now felt like a giant headache about to happen. Or heartache.

  After years of being gone, she hadn’t expected Keeton to suddenly show up back in Dawson.

  As she pulled out of the parking lot she glanced in the direction of Keeton’s truck. He stood next to it, strapping Lucy into an infant seat. Seeing her glance his way, he waved and then turned toward Lucy.

  Kade’s brother. A bull rider. The last person she wanted in her life.

  Chapter Two

  Keeton lugged the infant car seat into the ramshackle house that he now called home. It had electricity, running water and little else to recommend it. The porch sagged in places and a few boards were missing. The living room was long and narrow with only two windows and floors that creaked when he walked across them. He put the baby down on the sofa he’d hauled in a few days ago.

  She had fallen asleep halfway home, after sucking down a bottle, burping loudly and then fussing with hiccups for a few minutes. If she’d stay asleep he could carry in groceries and baby stuff he’d bought in Grove.

  For a second she fussed and he wondered if she’d wake up. But he remembered something he’d seen women at church do. He rocked the little seat, slow and easy. Lucy cuddled down into the blanket he’d gotten her and sucked on the pacifier.

  “Yeah, that’s right, I’m a pro at this. Now, don’t wake up.” He eased toward the door, avoiding spots on the hardwood floors that he knew were prone to creak.

  When he got to the truck he could hear work going on at the construction site across the road. It looked as though some houses were going up on the fifty acres. He shrugged because it wasn’t his land, just land he’d thought he might be able to buy.

  He grabbed the baby bed out of the back of his truck and headed for the house, nearly tripping over a half-starved cat in the process. “Get out of here.”

  The cat yowled and ran for the barn. Feral cats. There were probably a dozen of them in the barn. He’d have to start catching them and taking them to the veterinarian in Dawson. One thing at a time. But he wasn’t going to let a dozen cats keep reproducing in the one good thing about this property. The barn. He planned on turning that barn into his stable. And then he’d build a hay barn and equipment shed. He had plans. Dreams. His own this time.

  As he carried the crib through the house he could hear the continued pounding from the other side of the road. The sound drifted through the open windows along with a nice breeze that felt a little cool for May. He set the crib in the larger of the two bedrooms, leaning it against the bed he’d bought used.

  On his way back out to grab the remaining groceries, a cat ran in. He glanced back at the skinny gray tabby. He hated cats. He opened his mouth to yell at the scrawny feline and his attention landed on the sleeping baby in the seat.

  Okay, his life as he knew it had ended. In one fell swoop, Becka had delivered the ultimate blow. She’d officially sidelined him, stolen his man-card and parked him square in the role of fatherhood. He didn’t even get to yell at the cat that had meandered into the dining room and was sniffing the corner of the bare room.

  “Later, cat.” He whispered the threat and backed out the door, giving the cat the look and then pointing two fingers at his own eyes and then back at it, as if it would understand.

  Ten minutes later he had groceries and baby paraphernalia in the house and even had the supplies stored in the three cabinets he’d cleaned out with window cleaner and paper towels. He looked around, not really pleased but okay with the cleaning job.

  This little kitchen held a lot of memories, most had to do with his grandmother. He’d eaten a lot of fried bologna sandwiches and homemade chocolate chip cookies in this kitchen. Back then the cabinets had been painted bright yellow and the floor had been white-and-yellow linoleum. He didn’t know if he’d return to that color scheme but he was looking forward to cleaning things up and making it look the way it used to.

  A car driving fast down the country road caught his attention. He hurried to the door just in time to hear a dozen pops, similar to a small-caliber handgun. People across the road yelled. Someone shouted, “No housing project!”

  Keeton started out the door, made it halfway to his truck and remembered the baby. He hurried back to the house, banging the front door as he rushed into the room and grabbed the infant carrier. The cat got smart and hightailed it out through a hole in the screen. The mangy thing didn’t have a tail.

  The strap in the truck played stubborn and it took him a few minutes to get the car seat belted into the truck. After that it only took minutes to get to the building site across the road. A couple of trucks were parked close and a woman stood near the corner of the new foundation making a phone call. She was tall, slim, dressed in a business suit and heels.

  No way.

  But yes way. She turned around and he was staring at the very lovely Sophie Cooper. She turned her back to him and walked away, still talking on the phone.

  Next to him, Lucy cried out, demanding his attention. He leaned over and unbuckled her. When he pulled her out, she settled into the curve of his shoulder as if she’d always been there, made for that spot. It kind of hit him in the heart, how right it felt to hold a baby he’d only known for a few days.

  He walked across the grassy field toward the foundation of a house.

  “What happened?” he asked one of the men walking around the area, looking for whatever had been thrown at them. Or aimed at them.

  The older of the two looked to be a few years younger than Keeton. Shaggy beard and a sweat-stained ball cap, the guy shrugged. “Guess they don’t want us here.”

 
“Did you see if they shot at you or threw something?”

  The guy shrugged. “I think they threw fireworks. Ms. Cooper thought it was a gun.”

  Keeton smiled and so did the younger man. They walked around the area, looking for remnants of fireworks. He found them closer to the road than the house site. He left them for the police, assuming that’s who Sophie had been on the phone with.

  He walked back up to the house. There were two trucks, no sedan. Sophie stood near one of the trucks, a beater in worse shape than his. So, she’d been going incognito. He smiled and then laughed.

  “You’re a contractor now?”

  She bristled and took a step back. Man, she was beautiful. The wind whipped her hair around her face and she pushed it back with a gloved hand. Yeah, he liked Sophie the contractor. Even if she didn’t want anything to do with Keeton the bull rider.

  “I’m helping people build houses. I didn’t exactly want it known.” She pushed a hand through her hair and looked away. “And I am on the board of Cooper Holdings. I know how to get things done.”

  “Sophie, you’re in Dawson, Oklahoma. Or at least close enough. People are going to find out. Did you really think you could keep something like this a secret?”

  She shrugged slim shoulders beneath a clean, blue jacket. She must have gone home and changed after their encounter a few hours ago.

  “I don’t know. I guess I had hoped to keep it to myself. I keep my truck in the garage. No one knows I have it.”

  “You’re a very sneaky woman.” But he wondered aloud, “Why all the secrecy? It isn’t as if you’re doing something wrong. Are you?”

  She glanced around the property, green with spring rains and warm sunshine. Wildflowers bloomed and the trees were heavy with new leaves. “No, I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m doing something for myself, without everyone in the world being involved.”

  “Gotcha.” But he didn’t really get it. He guessed if she wanted to explain, she would.

  “The police are going to be here in a little while.”