Fortune's Secret Baby. Christyne Butler
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don’t want cold cow juice.” Cooper juggled the baby with one arm while popping the bottle into the electric warmer. “Hang on just another five minutes.”
Anthony was hanging on, but not quietly. He fussed and squirmed while Cooper counted down the minutes on the warmer. Finally done, he shook the bottle and it took some maneuvering to test its contents to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Then he popped the bottle into Anthony’s waiting mouth.
The peace and quiet only lasted a few seconds.
“Easy there, you’re going to drown yourself.” Cooper pulled the bottle back as Anthony continued to cry, spitting up more of the liquid than he was taking in. “Okay, you don’t want the milk. What do you want?”
Anthony’s only answer was increased wailing.
He held the baby close to his chest and walked. Around the dining table, into the living room, down the hall and back again. He didn’t bother to count his steps this time as he gently patted Anthony on the back. Thankful for the dim glow from the night-light in the baby’s room and the light over the stove, he made it through the furniture obstacle course without stubbing his toe or bashing an ankle.
Now if he could only get the little guy to calm down.
“You liked it when I talked to you last time we were in this situation.” Keeping his voice low, Cooper never stopped moving or talking. “Maybe that’ll work again? But what the heck do I say to someone whose only response is an attempt to break my eardrums?”
Three hours later … three million steps.
Okay, maybe not three million, but it had to be close.
Cooper figured he’d shared his entire life story with the kid, starting with stories of growing up with Ross, Flint and Frannie—the four of them against the world—as they struggled to keep things going despite living with their wayward mother.
He told him about the time he and Ross taught Frannie how to ride a bicycle without training wheels, and when he’d taken on a bully twice his size after the kid refused to stop messing with Flint. Stories of high school, his rodeo days and taking college classes at a variety of places around the country until he finally earned his degree in animal husbandry. He even included every joke he could remember that might be appropriate for little ears.
He’d only paused long enough to grab a few sips of tepid tap water, not wanting to get a mug of hot coffee anywhere near the baby. Man, what he wouldn’t give for a cup of joe ….
Anthony had moments of lesser crying, but he never really stopped and Cooper was getting worried. He reached for his cell phone and flipped it open. Pressing the “contacts” button, he saw Jeremy and Kirsten’s number listed first.
But he couldn’t make the call. He and Anthony needed to make it through together. On their own.
The baby wasn’t warm so he figured he wasn’t running a fever. He was just cranky and probably missing the familiar surroundings of his former home, but Cooper had never been the one to comfort him. Someone else was always there to take Anthony off his hands. Now, he was the only person his son could rely on, and he was determined to make it work.
“You’re aiming to break the crying record, aren’t ya?” Cooper whispered. “I don’t know where you get your energy.”
Another diaper change, more tries with the bottle, making use of the rocking chair next to the crib.
Nothing worked.
“How about some music? What’s that saying about music soothing the savage beast?” He looked around for a radio, but there were none in the cottage. “Well, I hope you like country, because I don’t know any baby songs.”
He started with the classics from Johnny Cash and worked his way up to Garth Brooks, making up words when the real ones wouldn’t come. He tried the bottle again during his rendition of “Friends in Low Places” and the baby latched on to it. When it was empty, Anthony kept fussing, so Cooper kept singing. Halfway through a favorite tune by Willie Nelson, he suddenly realized two things.
The sun was starting to rise over the horizon and Anthony was finally asleep.
He put the baby back in his crib—thankful for the blinds that kept the room dark—and crept out into the hallway. Grabbing a much-needed cup of coffee and the handheld baby monitor, he headed to the front porch. Fresh air was called for right about now.
He stared out over the land. The buildings and gentle rolling hills that made up Molly’s Pride were still dark against the sky that slowly lightened. The quiet of the morning was only punctured by the soft snores coming through the baby monitor.
Damn, maybe he wasn’t doing the right thing after all.
Yeah, they’d made it through the night, but what if he was wrong? What if Anthony cried for so long because he was sick and had only worn himself out?
Stretching his arms wide, Cooper worked out the kinks in his back while offering a silent prayer that this crazy parenting plan of his was the right thing to do.
“I’ll take anything you want to send me,” he said to the heavens, resting one shoulder against the porch landing. “Just give me a sign.”
Ignoring his coffee, he stared into the distance, watching as dark shadows gave way to the coming daylight, a slow and easy progression that never failed to lift his spirits. Then on the horizon a cloud of dust formed out of nowhere, coming straight at him at breakneck speed. The sound of pounding horse hooves filled the air.
The cloud moved closer, taking the shape of a horse and rider. He straightened the moment the chestnut-colored quarter horse, recognizable by its well-muscled body and powerful, rounded hindquarters, galloped in front of the cottage.
The rider was a woman. She rode without a saddle, crouched low on the horse’s back, at ease and in control, with only the reins of the bridle in her grip. Her white dress billowed behind her, molding her curves and displaying miles of long lean legs. Her hair carelessly whipped in the wind, mimicking the horse’s tail in length and dark color.
Well, I’ll be damned.
He stepped off the porch, the morning dew soaking through his socks, and watched her ride to the top of a nearby hill. The horse slowed to a stop. The rider straightened and turned as if she felt him watching her.
A bright shaft of sunshine had him shielding his eyes. He stepped into the shadow near the porch railing, but when he dropped his hand, she was gone.
Whoa! Who was that beautiful lone rider?
Chapter Two
Cooper listened for the sound of galloping hooves, but heard nothing. The air was still and silent. Then a cool breeze washed over him and he blinked. Hard.
Had he been asleep? Was she a dream?
“Cooper?”
He spun around and found Isabella, JR’s wife, behind him.
“Are you all right?” she asked, moving closer. “You seem a little dazed.”
Rubbing at his eyes, Cooper shook off the vision of the lady in white and smiled. “Hey, Isabella. No, not dazed, just asleep on my feet, I guess.”
She nodded toward the baby monitor on the railing. “Rough first night?”
He shrugged. “We made it through. What are you doing out here so early?”
“Just taking a stroll and enjoying the coolness of the morning.” She tenderly rubbed her rounded abdomen. “Junior tends to be an early riser. Much like his daddy.”
“Well, let’s hope Anthony doesn’t take after either of them.” He glanced at his watch, surprised to see how much time had passed since he put his son to bed. “I just got the little guy to fall asleep an hour ago.”
As soon as Cooper spoke, a cooing noise came through