The Bull Rider's Baby. Brenda Minton
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A police car came down the road, giving Sophie a break from the conversation with Keeton. She untangled herself from the smelly little bundle that was Lucy and handed the infant back to her daddy.
“You have to give her a bath today.” She released the baby to her father’s arms.
“Yeah, I know.”
“You can do this, Keeton.”
“I know.” He cradled the now wide-awake baby in one arm. Sophie tried not to think about how he looked with that baby. “They really do have how-to books. I bought one at the store.”
She shook her head at his admission. “That will help a lot.”
“I’m sure it will.” He walked next to her as the patrol car pulled in. “Want me to stay?”
“You can go.”
He shifted the baby from his left arm to his right. “Suit yourself.”
“I’m a big girl.”
“I know you are. Just saying, I’m here if you need anything.”
“I know you are. And—” she smiled at the baby then raised her gaze to meet his “—I’m just down the road if you need anything.”
The words weren’t easy. She almost hadn’t said them. But it was the right thing to do, offering help.
“Thanks.” He touched the brim of his hat. “See you at the rodeo tonight?”
“Probably not.”
She watched as he got into his truck and started down the bumpy, gravel drive. Today, nothing made sense. Keeton back in town didn’t make sense. Her reaction to seeing him made less sense. Even when she made the point to remind herself he was just another cowboy in faded jeans and dusty boots her heart waffled, not really agreeing.
Maybe because he hadn’t teased her. He hadn’t questioned what she was doing and why. She watched him go, biting her bottom lip until it hurt. And then the officer approached, casting a cautious gaze around the area.
“Ms. Cooper?”
“Yes.” She turned, giving him her full attention. For the most part.
“I’m Officer Walters.”
They leaned against her truck as she recounted the story, ending with an apology for calling him out on something as silly as firecrackers.
“Ma’am, if you felt threatened by their actions, then that’s exactly why you should have called. We’ll have something on record in case there are other incidents, and if we see a pattern.”
“That sounds good.” Though she couldn’t imagine what pattern they’d see. Fireworks didn’t match a criminal profile that she knew of. It appeared to be more a case of overactive imagination on her part.
Jeff and Gabe told what they remembered, and then they took the police officer to the spot where they’d found the firecrackers. She watched as he shoved the evidence into a plastic bag and walked back up to where she waited.
“I’ve got a description of the car and what you think the passenger looked like. I’ll take this in and we’ll call you if we find anything. If you do see that car again, call. And if you can get a license number without putting yourself in danger, that would help.”
“Thank you, Officer.” Sophie watched him leave, and then she glanced at her watch. It was almost two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. The two guys standing in front of her looked as if they would rather be anywhere but here.
“What now, Ms. Cooper?” Jeff, tall and lanky, picked up his tool bag and strapped it around his waist. He pushed his ball cap down on thinning hair.
“Let’s go home, guys. The supplies are here. If the two of you and a few others want to do more on the frame next week, everything is ready to go.”
“That sounds good.” Gabe picked up the toolbox he’d left near her truck. “Call if you need anything at all.”
“Thanks, Gabe.” She smiled at the younger man. He was single and unemployed for the time being so he had signed on to help a few of his married friends build houses. His experience in so many areas of construction made him a valuable part of the team.
After the two of them left she got into the old truck she’d bought a few weeks ago. She eased down the gravel drive, and at the road she didn’t turn toward her house. Instead she turned left, and then into the driveway of the old West homestead.
Keeton’s truck was parked close to the front door. She sat for a minute staring at the old farmhouse with the dark green siding. She’d loved this place years ago when his grandparents were alive. It always reminded her of trees in the summer. Dark green with brown trim around the windows and brown shingles. Irises bloomed profusely around the house, leftovers from tubers his grandmother had planted. When she bought her house a few years ago, she’d dug up several and replanted them around her front porch.
The front door opened. Keeton walked out and then leaned against the post. She laughed because he looked cool, pretty cute, actually. Until the post he chose to lean against wobbled and came loose. He fell to the side and righted himself.
His smile zoomed across the yard, bright with white teeth that flashed.
“You getting out?” he called out to her.
She shouldn’t. Not if she had any sense at all. She’d always been the Cooper kid most likely to use common sense. Lately something had happened. Maybe an early midlife crisis?
Instead of waving goodbye and leaving, she got out. Her heart raced ahead of her. And then guilt rushed in. It ached deep down, tangling with the past and with this moment.
“Don’t look like you just stole the teacher’s apple.”
“Why would a teacher ever really want an apple?” Was that the only thing she could come back with? “I mean, really, wouldn’t she be glad if someone took it? Wouldn’t she prefer a student give her chocolate?”
“You’re overthinking this.”
She cleared her throat and nodded. “Of course I am. I’m Sophie Cooper, I always overthink.”
“Right, and where has that gotten you?”
For a moment she thought about that question. But then she heard the baby from inside the house, crying. “I think someone wants you.”
“Right. Are you coming in?” He headed toward the house, not waiting for her. “You didn’t answer. Where has overthinking gotten you?”
He glanced back over his shoulder as he walked up the steps of the porch.
“Overthinking has kept me out of trouble.” And kept her heart virtually pain free for sixteen years. Poor atrophied heart. It needed serious physical therapy if she ever planned on using it again.
She followed Keeton through the front door. He had already picked up Lucy and had her cradled against his chest. “She’s pretty warm.”
Sophie kissed the baby’s brow. “Very. Have you given her the medicine?”
“Yeah, when I got back.”
“And a bath?”
“Not yet.” He smiled and there was something different about a cowboy smile when the cowboy was holding a baby. “I haven’t read the book.”
Sophie reached for the baby and he handed Lucy over.
“Run lukewarm water in the sink. We’ll start there. I’ll give you a crash course in baby bathing and you can read your how-to manual later.”
“Thanks, Sophie, I owe you.”
“No, you don’t.” She followed him into