The Bounty Hunter's Baby. Erica Vetsch
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Once upon a time, she had prayed her future would center around Thomas Beaufort, and all her dreams had been tied up in him.
But not now.
“At this rate we’ll be out of milk before sundown.” Her voice snapped like a clotheslined sheet in a high wind.
“Guess I’d better get some more then, huh?” Thomas still hovered at her shoulder, reaching down to put his finger into the baby’s tiny hand. When the minute clasp closed around his finger, it was as if something squeezed Esther’s chest.
Thomas chuckled. “Got himself quite a grip, doesn’t he? But he can’t go through life wearing nothing but a dish towel. Can you make a list of things a baby needs?”
“I don’t know what a baby needs. I’ve never had a child before.” And likely never will.
“You’ll know a mite better than me.” The reasonableness in his tone chafed. Her hard-won serenity had been upset by his arrival, and here he was acting as if nothing had happened in their past, as if no time had gone by. “If you have a wagon or buckboard, I’ll go hitch it up and we can head to town to get the little fella outfitted.”
Her first instinct was to refuse. Trips to town were painful reminders of her change in status, and going into Silar Falls with Thomas would be too much to bear. The infant in her arms stretched, arching his little back and sinking into a relaxed bundle. He snuffled, and his lashes skimmed his cheeks as he blinked slowly, completely helpless and trusting as he lay in her arms.
He needed help. He needed her.
Thomas was right. She could see this child properly clad and provisioned, but she’d have to go into town with Thomas to see it done.
She looked up from spooning the milk. “What are you going to do with him?” It was the question she’d been wondering since she first saw the baby in his arms.
Thomas knelt beside her chair, putting his big hand over hers on the towel-wrapped infant. “Esther, I know it’s a lot to ask, and you have no obligation, but I need someone to help me. His mama left him in my care, but I don’t know what to do. It was all I could do to get him here alive and squalling. I need someone to look after him until I can find his relatives.”
His “oh my” brown eyes looked deeply into hers, and she shivered at the power he still had to move her. She suppressed the tremor that rippled through her, wanting to thrust the baby into his arms and put some distance between Thomas and her feelings. His hand on hers, so warm and familiar, was the first touch she’d felt in a long time. When she realized just how good it felt, she shrugged him off.
“Will you help me, Esther?”
“For how long?” She closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath to steady herself, calling herself all kinds of foolish to even think of letting him back in her life. How long could he stay before she betrayed herself, betrayed that she had once loved him?
“I don’t know, exactly. I should get back out on the trail, but I’ll put out feelers and try to find someone in the little gupper’s family willing to take the boy.” He cupped the baby’s head, and the tenderness in his eyes threatened to tear down a layer of protective bricks around her heart. “Please? I don’t have anywhere else I can turn. We need you.”
It felt so good to be needed. Even though she knew she should refuse, that she should send him and his problems packing, she found herself giving in. “I’ll help you, for the sake of the baby, for a week or so, until you can make permanent plans for him.”
She could do this. She could help Thomas get this baby fed and outfitted without jeopardizing her heart once more, without regretting letting her guard down.
Couldn’t she?
“The buckboard is in the barn, but you’ll have to catch the horses. They’re in the trap.” And a merry chase they would lead him, too. Esther usually had to bribe the horses with a carrot or two to get them to come to her in the pasture, or “trap” as the cowboys used to call it. The trap was the only fenced pastureland on the Double J Ranch. At one time, there had been more than thirty horses there, mounts for the many ranch hands her father had employed, but now, only the harness team remained. With good grazing and Silar Creek running across one corner, the horses mostly fended for themselves there.
Thomas nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Figuring she had plenty of time, Esther rocked slowly, the baby snuggled against her shoulder. Regret warred with anticipation, and she took herself to task. “You had best keep your wits about you, girl. He won’t stay. He can’t. You heard him five years ago. He never wants to be tied down.”
And here she was, listening for Thomas to return, the same way she’d waited and watched five years ago when he rode away, praying he’d come back to her.
The baby stirred and nestled against her again. He was warm and smelled of soap and milk and newborn. She’d fashioned a diaper out of a dishcloth and wrapped him in one of her oldest, softest bath towels. Now that his hair was clean, she marveled at its fineness...like dark thistledown, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a bit curly. Cuddling him, she couldn’t believe how quickly things could change. Was it only this afternoon that she saw her life stretching out day after day with nothing to vary the monotony?
“You sure have a sense of humor, Lord.”
Rip inched toward her on his belly, creeping inside. Thomas had left the dog behind when he’d gone for the horses, or more accurately, Rip had refused to leave the baby. He was draped half inside, half outside the door, lying on the threshold, watching Esther and the boy with hopeful eyes, sneaking into the room a bit at a time when he thought she wasn’t looking.
The dog’s ears perked up, and he swiveled his head to look out the doorway. The sound of hooves on the road made Esther’s stomach flip. Thomas hadn’t been gone long, surely not long enough to accomplish his errand. Had he forgotten something? Or was it one of her customers?
She hurried to the bedroom and laid the sleeping baby in the center of the bed. Rip snuck in and sniffed the baby, tail wagging, eyes soulful. Esther ignored him and went to the door.
It wasn’t Thomas.
Four cowboys, all spit shined and slicked for a night on the town, turned into her gate, each one with a duffel tied behind his saddle.
Danny Newton rode in the lead. She bit her cheek. He was Esther’s least favorite customer. Brash and bold, he leered and smirked every time he came by, leaving her with a creepy-crawly feeling and a desire to bathe when he left. His father owned the Circle Bar 5, the ranch adjoining hers to the south, and he had designs on her property as a gift for his son.
“Evening, Miss Esther.” Danny pushed his hat back, revealing dark blond hair and sun-browned skin. His pale blue eyes pierced her, perusing her from hem to hairline, pausing a couple of times on their journey. Heat rushed to Esther’s cheeks. “Nice night.”
She rubbed her hands against the sides of her skirts, gripping the faded fabric. He was insolent, full of bravado in front of his friends. He swung out of the saddle and removed his hat.
“You’re looking fine tonight, Miss Esther. You ready to take my father’s offer?”
“I’ve already declined his offer too many times to count.”
He rubbed his thin mustache in that gesture she knew so well, the one that preceded some remark she would hate.
“Only a matter of time. The tax man is coming around.” He stuck his thumbs into his back pockets, insolent as he eyed the buildings. “Your ranch is going downhill on a fast horse. You could always save my pa the purchase price and just marry me.” He winked and gave her a smirk. “You should marry me. After all, it’s what your daddy wanted, and mine, too.”
She gritted