Special Delivery Baby. Sherri Shackelford
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humiliating than heartbreaking. While he’d enjoyed Dora’s company before he’d discovered her deception, he’d never looked at her the way Daniel looked at Leah. Perhaps he simply lacked the capacity for an abiding love.
His thoughts drifted toward a certain stunning redhead dressed in leather chaps, and he quickly marshaled them. That particular female was a thorn in his side, and he’d already had enough aggravation to last a lifetime.
He’d vowed to do everything in his power to keep the country from sinking into war once more. To that end, he’d dedicated his life to politics. The peace between the northern and southern states was uneasy at best. The country was torn apart, and only men who understood war were fit to put it back together again. He’d devoted himself to the cause of former soldiers as well as the widows and orphans they’d left behind. Miss Stone with her six-shooters strapped to her hips was nothing but an example of disorder and chaos. She was a distraction he’d rather avoid.
Will wanted peace and quiet and children to dandle on his knee. He did not want to get mixed up with a beautiful vagabond who possessed magnificent horsemanship skills. Her clear and quick thinking had averted a disaster, and for that he would always be grateful. But she was too clever by half and would make his life miserable. Gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted and capable, Miss Stone had already occupied too much of his time.
The infant in his arms howled, yanking him back to the present. “She’s hungry, all right.” Will chuckled. “And letting us all know it.”
“Babies have a way of getting what they want. You’ll find that out soon enough.”
Will accepted the bottle of warmed milk from Leah. The infant puckered her lips then stuck out her tongue, pushing it away. He retracted his hand, and her tiny mouth worked. Smiling at her confusion, he replaced the tip against her lips again. With only a little more coaxing, the child ceased her fussing. Having finally accepted the bottle, the baby suckled greedily.
Once she’d settled, Leah quietly left the room. Will braced his boot heel against the floor, gently rocking his chair. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been around an infant. There were plenty of camp followers during the war, but he’d discouraged the practice around his own regiment. The battlefield was no place for women and children.
Sometime during the war, death had gotten its teeth into him and hadn’t let go. He’d seen so many boys die, he’d lost track of the count. The realization kept him up at night and haunted his dreams when exhaustion finally overtook him. He’d been responsible for those lads, and they’d fought and died beneath his command. He’d penned letters to their families when there was time and signed the letters his secretary had prepared when there wasn’t. There’d been far too many letters; their sentiment weak and inadequate next to the tragedy they represented.
Cowboy Creek was a fresh start. Too many soldiers couldn’t go home again, their farms and livelihoods destroyed. Some of them, like Noah, had needed a fresh start. They’d traveled west instead, building new lives and putting the past behind them. He’d give those men a chance at least. Despite all the work he’d done and the money he’d made, the voices of all the soldiers he’d lost whispered in his dreams. Was it hundreds? Was it thousands? He’d never know, and that was his penance. Cowboy Creek was his atonement.
His hold on the bottle grew lax, and the babe in his arms turned toward him, her rose-petal lips working.
Will adjusted his grip. “All right, little lady, I’m paying attention.”
The boundary between life and death was incredibly fragile. This child represented everything he’d fought for...what he was rebuilding. She represented a better future. If he kept her safe, cared for her and saw that she found a loving home, then the deaths of all those boys would not have been in vain. This little girl, born in a time of peace, represented their sacrifice. He’d settle up whatever debts he had left when his own time came.
His chest tightened with emotion. “What shall we call you?”
His first officer had been killed during the Battle of the Wilderness. Collecting the soldier’s belongings, he’d discovered a picture of an infant swathed in her christening finery. The name “Ava” had been scrawled across the back. The memory of that photo had stuck with him.
“How about Ava? Someone told me the name means ‘bird.’ One day you’ll fly away from here. Won’t you, little bird?”
The infant’s eyes blinked slower and slower. The frantic suckling grew lax. She was utterly defenseless, utterly dependent. A fresh sense of purpose filled him. If he could protect her innocence, maybe then he’d be whole again.
Leah tiptoed into the room and peered at the sleeping baby. “She looks all tuckered out. How about you?” she whispered. “How was the cattle drive this morning? I heard the excitement all the way from Eden Street.”
“Much as you’d expect,” he grumbled. “We’ll be cleaning up the mess and repairing the street for days. Sheriff Davis already has three of the cowboys in jail drying out.”
“Cattle built this town, Will.” She straightened and crossed her arms. “You can’t run the drovers out.”
“The railroad will put an end to the cattle drives, mark my words. We’ll have to find another way to survive eventually.”
“The railroad?” she scoffed. “I don’t see thousands of head of cattle riding the rails.”
“Change is coming whether we like it or not. The railroads are already experimenting with icebox cars.”
“I hope the change doesn’t come too soon. The stockyards account for a large portion of our income.” Leah’s expression remained skeptical. “Whatever the future holds, those drovers are here now. And you’d best make them feel welcome. The merchants in town need their business.”
Will recalled the talk he’d heard on the way over about a rodeo show the cowboys were planning. “They can spend all the money they want here, but I’m putting a stop to any rodeos they’re planning. All the boys can talk about is this sharpshooter called Texas Tom. There’s liable to be other events, as well, and bull riding is too dangerous.” He tucked the blanket more snugly around the baby. “The last time the drovers held a show, the doc fixed up two broken legs and administered more stitches than I can count. If one of those bulls breaks free, Miss Stone won’t be around to save the day.”
“Miss Stone? Who is Miss Stone?”
“No one. Never mind,” he mumbled. That woman was trouble, and he always avoided trouble. Especially beautiful trouble with dazzling green eyes. “I’ll shut down Texas Tom before the week is out. I don’t want the new brides trampled before they find husbands. We promised them a nice, safe town. A good place to raise a family. I can’t risk a stray bullet.”
“I see there’s no changing your mind,” she said with a plaintive sigh. “What about the baby? Have you decided what to do about her?”
“Yes,” Will replied resolutely.
He’d never been one to shy away from a difficult decision, and he wasn’t about to start now.
* * *
A week after her arrival in town, Tomasina dipped her push broom into the bucket of glue and shook off the excess. The printer had done a fine job with the posters, even though she’d rushed him. Normally, James Johnson, a fellow drover who usually rode with their outfit, traveled ahead and arranged for the printing.
James had been like a son to her pa, and Tomasina treated him like a brother. Her brush stilled midair. Something had been troubling James since their trip to Harper, Kansas, last September. He’d been so distracted, he’d nearly been gored. Worried about his safety, they’d argued and James had ridden with another outfit this time out. She’d discovered James was in Cowboy Creek, as well, but he’d been avoiding her. She sure hoped the kid had finally gotten his head on straight or he’d be no use to anyone.
Tamping down her annoyance, she spread the thick