Cowboy With A Secret. Pamela Browning
wildly brandishing fists and contorting her face into a tight red knot of anger. Instinctively and with only a slight hesitation at first, Bethany rocked the baby back and forth.
“Shh,” she crooned softly. “It’s all right. We won’t hurt you.” Her motherly instinct, or whatever it was, billowed full-blown. It took only a moment to decide what she had to do. She looked around at the others and spoke over the baby’s cries. “Alyssa can stay with me tonight. In the extra bedroom.”
“Great,” said Frisco. “Peachy. I’m going home to watch TV. Too much noise around here.” He slammed outside and down the stairs.
The noise of the door’s banging distracted Alyssa so that she suddenly stopped screaming. Dita touched the baby’s cheek. “So soft,” she said. “So sweet. Look, Eddie, at her little fingers. Have you ever seen anything so perfect?”
“Never,” Eddie breathed in awe.
“Dita, how old do you think she is?”
“A month or two, I’d guess.”
Colt rummaged under the blankets in the basket. “There’s canned formula and a bottle here,” he said, setting them on the table. “And enough disposable diapers until I can get more. And a pacifier.”
“Eddie and I can bring the old family cradle over,” Dita said. “It’s stored in the attic. Oh, and you’ll want cornstarch. I have that, too.”
“Cornstarch?” Bethany said blankly.
“It prevents diaper rash,” Dita told her.
“Goodness gracious,” she said, embarrassed. “I guess I don’t know much about babies.”
“No reason you should,” Dita said. She chuckled and patted Bethany on the shoulder. “I’ll dig out that cradle right now,” she said, and then she and Eddie left, Eddie chattering excitedly all the way out the door.
When it was quiet, Bethany stopped rocking the baby, who in turn regarded her solemnly. The baby’s hair looked like downy dark chick fluff, and her breath smelled milky. Bethany thought about how it might have been to hold her own baby like this, to have someone to care about more than anything in the world. More than the ranch, even.
“All this time I’ve been learning how to run the Banner-B while other women my age are having children,” she said, half to herself.
“Sounds like that bothers you.”
Colt’s words startled her. She had momentarily forgotten that he was there.
“My husband and I always wanted kids,” she said. The baby was staring intently up at her, searching her face for—what? Its mother? What kind of mother would leave a baby on someone’s doorstep?
Bethany found herself growing angry on the baby’s behalf. A baby deserved parents who cared enough about it to keep it safe. A baby deserved better than being dropped on someone’s doorstep, prey to anything that came along, like abusive kids or coyotes or—well, peeing dogs.
“Here, why don’t you let me take her,” Colt said. Wordlessly she let him lift the baby from her arms. Although his hands were big and rough, he was surprisingly gentle. Bethany thought, maybe Colt McClure has the same feeling for babies that he has for horses.
For some reason, this was a disturbing thought. Or was it the way Colt’s hands adjusted the baby’s blanket, or maybe the unaccustomed softness of expression that flickered brief as heat lightning across his rough-hewn face? Or the way he offered the pacifier and his look of relief when the baby accepted it?
Maybe none of this was so surprising. The baby was his. Had to be. Why else would this Marcy, whoever she was, be leaving a baby here?
Her anger burgeoned to include Colt. And yet there wasn’t much she could do if he’d earlier abandoned this Marcy and their baby to come to the Banner-B. It wasn’t her fault. She reminded herself that Colt was the one who’d advertised for work. She’d only answered the ad. It wasn’t as if she was the one responsible for his irresponsibility.
She thought if she didn’t get away from him she might say something she’d regret. “The baby’s probably hungry. I’ll go pour this formula into the bottle,” she said through clenched teeth. She pivoted abruptly to go into the kitchen, the air in her wake sending a picture of Justin clattering to the floor. Quickly she bent and picked it up, carefully examining the frame to see if it was broken. The picture had been taken during the first year of their marriage, and Justin was smiling into the camera lens. Smiling at her. Bethany had taken the picture.
She carefully returned the picture to its hallowed place on the hall table. “Your husband?” Colt said.
“Yes.” She didn’t want to talk about Justin with this man, but when she went into the kitchen, Colt followed.
“I reckon it’s none of my business, but how long have you been a widow?” he asked in a conversational tone.
“You’re right. It’s not your business.” Any more than it’s my business how a baby came to be left on my doorstep for you. Or who Marcy is, she almost added.
“Sorry,” Colt said.
Suddenly it seemed important to her to let this drifter, this man who’d abandoned his own child, know exactly what responsibility was. “Justin died five years ago after a tractor accident, and I’ve been running the ranch ever since.”
“That’s no easy job.”
“Right,” she snapped. “The most important things in life aren’t.” She could have told him plenty about how hard it was, how she’d had to learn computer management programs and read up on cattle breeding and deal with creditors and, of course, fend off Mott—but she wouldn’t.
If he felt the sting of her words, Colt gave no sign. He didn’t reply, but sat down on a kitchen chair and hoisted Alyssa so that her face rested against his shoulder. The baby was alert, sucking vigorously on the pacifier. Colt looked pensive for a moment and drew a deep breath before he spoke.
“I want you to know that I’ll do my best to find Alyssa’s mother, and as soon as possible.”
“And if she can’t take the baby back?”
“I don’t rightly know whether she can or not.”
“There’s always foster care,” Bethany said.
“No!” Colt said forcefully.
Bethany hadn’t expected her casual and matter-of-fact suggestion to provoke such an outburst. She swiveled and looked at Colt in ill-concealed surprise. His expression had gone all dark and forbidding.
“Never. No matter what. I’d leave and take her with me before I’d let her go to a foster home,” Colt said fiercely. His arms tightened protectively around the baby.
Bethany hid her dismay. He could have talked from hell to breakfast and not said that part about leaving when the last thing she needed was to lose a ranch hand.
It took a moment for her to recover. “All right, then. We’ll manage for now,” she replied in a level tone, not wanting him to know he’d rattled her. She ran hot water into a pan and set the bottle in it to warm.
When she heard Dita and Eddie outside, she opened the back door and they came in. They presented the cradle for inspection by depositing it in the middle of the kitchen floor and setting it to rocking. “It’s a family heirloom Frisco and I brought from Mexico,” Dita said. She grinned at Bethany. “Frisco’s not half as hard-hearted as he seems, you know. He already had the cradle out and was cleaning it when Eddie and I walked in the house.”
“I’ll take it upstairs,” said Eddie. He was strong and proud of it.
“Put the cradle in the blue bedroom, Eddie,” Bethany told him.
“Blue bedroom. Okay.” He lifted the cradle and departed.
“Here’s