The Cowboy's Baby Bond

Willow’s gaze came back to him, her eyebrows raised just enough for him to know she wondered if his stepmother exaggerated. “That’s nice,” she said.

For a few minutes, conversation turned to others things. The meal was about over when Willow spoke again. “I must be on my way this morning. I have a train to meet.”

Big Sam pushed to his feet. “Levi and I must leave, too.” He held out his hand to Willow and they shook. “It’s been nice meeting you. Perhaps we’ll see you again in town.”

Johnny rose, as well. “I’ll get back to fixing the cabin.” He paused to say goodbye to Willow and cup Adam’s downy head, then turned away. He sure did hate to see them go.

The men grabbed their hats and trooped from the house. Johnny first hitched Willow’s mare to the wagon. It seemed the right thing to do. Then he saddled Gray, threw on his heavy saddlebags and rode from the yard.

He reached the spot where he’d heard Adam yesterday and found the pair. The reins hung slack in his hands and Gray stood waiting for an indication of what he should do.

Johnny stared at the trees where he’d first seen the wagon.

He’d rescued her, then left her to get to town on her own. What was he thinking?

* * *

Willow stared after the men, feeling as if a door in her life had closed. What a truly foolish thought. It made no sense. Except she’d glimpsed something in Johnny and this family she hadn’t seen since the death of her parents. With a slight smile she acknowledged her feelings for what they were—a desire to re-create the sort of home she’d known before her parents’ deaths. The type of home she’d witnessed again with the Hardings. She’d almost forgotten that sense of comfort and safety. As she helped Maisie clean the kitchen, then gathered up her belongings, she vowed she would make that sort of home for Adam and her sisters.

“Thank you again.”

Maisie handed her some drops. “In case his earache returns.”

Willow took them, tears clogging her throat at the unexpected kindness she’d experienced here. “You’ll never know how grateful I am.”

The older woman wrapped her arms about Willow and Adam. “I wish you could stay longer, but I’ll be sure to look you up when I’m in town, if only to assure myself you are okay.”

“You’re welcome anytime. And your family, too.” Perhaps Johnny would stop in to see them, as well. She immediately corrected the thought. She would never again expect anything from a man.

She carried Adam and her belongings outside. Someone had hitched the mare to the wagon. How thoughtful. Had Johnny done it? And if so, why?

She shook away the questions and turned her mind toward getting to town. Adam perched on her knees as, with a final goodbye wave to Maisie, she drove from the yard.

According to what the Hardings said, it would take her close to an hour to reach Granite Creek. An hour in which to think and plan and, unfortunately, regret.

A long lonely ache consumed her insides. She meant to do her best to provide a home for her family, but it would never be the same as she’d known as a child. Her parents were dead and nothing would ever fill that void. She thought of how Maisie fitted into the Harding family so well and filled the home with love. Willow could never offer Adam and the girls a stepparent like that because she would never again trust her future and happiness to a man, let alone those of her sisters and son.

The one regret that would never go away was her own foolishness in sleeping with Adam’s father without the benefit of marriage. Peter Shaw had won her heart at sixteen when he’d bought her box lunch at the church social. Her parents had approved of their courtship and the two of them had spent many happy hours with the family. Peter had lofty ambitions. He meant to strike out for the north as soon as they were married. “New lands and maybe even gold,” he’d said.

When Willow told her ma that she didn’t want to go so far from home, Ma had reassured her. “My child, you won’t be happy if you hold him back from his dreams.”

But then Ma and Pa had died. Wedding plans were postponed while Willow grieved. Peter had comforted her, and one night she’d allowed the comforting to go too far.

But she’d expected Peter to marry her. Yes, they would have to rush the wedding, ignoring expected standards about the mourning period. But she loved him and he loved her.

Except, it turned out, he didn’t love her enough.

“I can’t take a woman carrying a baby into the wilds. It wouldn’t be safe.”

Her heart had fallen apart. “I don’t want to be responsible for you losing your dream.”

He’d taken it the wrong way. “That’s very kind of you. I’ll leave within the week.”

Willow closed her eyes against the remembered shock and shame of having to go to Mr. Reames and tell him the truth.

Now she held Adam to her chest, ignoring his protests. “I have you,” she crooned to the boy. “That’s all that matters.”

A pair of approaching riders snapped her from the tender moment. She set Adam behind her in a safe little nest she’d made among her belongings. She handed him a hard biscuit to chew on, hoping it would keep him quiet, then eased the pistol from her satchel and hid it in the folds of her dress. Many men would see her as easy prey, but she had no intention of letting herself fall into evil hands.

The men parted to go on either side of her wagon, putting her at a disadvantage. She shifted her gaze from one to the other.

“Howdy,” the bigger man, on her left, said. “You out here by yourself?”

She flicked the reins, but the man on her right caught the mare and held her in place.

“Seems a little unneighborly to ride on without answering my friend.”

Willow refused to show fear even though her heart raced so hard it hurt. “Howdy to you both. Now would you please let me pass?”

“What’s yer hurry?”

The skin on the back of her neck shivered at the way the bigger man leered at her.

“I’m meeting someone. He should be along any moment now.” It was an outright lie but she’d do anything to protect her child from the likes of these ruffians.

Both men looked up and down the trail.

“Don’t see anyone coming.” The big man rode forward and poked at the canvas covering her belongings. “What’cha got in here?”

Please don’t see Adam. Please don’t see him.

“Hey, look, Shorty. A baby. Well, ain’t that cute? Jes’ look at him.”

Shorty didn’t move, still holding the mare.

Willow’s mind raced. Should she shoot Shorty? Shoot the man behind her? Which would give her the best advantage? And could she actually pull the trigger?

“I ain’t played with a baby since I was a kid.” The big man leaned across the side of the wagon.

It was now or never. With shaking hands she whipped the pistol out, sucked in a deep breath and shot toward Shorty.

The man’s horse reared, forcing him to release his hold on her mare.

“Hi yi!” She whipped the reins as hard as she could and the wagon jerked forward. She glanced over her shoulder.

One man fought to gain control of his horse. The other tried to keep his mount from racing down the hillside. Then her gaze lit on her son. Adam lay in the wagon, his eyes scrunched up, ready to cry. She didn’t have time to comfort him as she urged the placid old mare to run harder.

Another glance behind her revealed the two men had their horses under control and were racing after her. A third followed. Where had he come from?