full well. Maybe the woman’s husband passed away. Maybe she didn’t have a husband. Maybe she fell on hard times.”
Will stared in rapt fascination as Leah rapidly divested the squirming infant of her wet nappy and deftly exchanged it for another. The maid returned with the washed and filled bottle.
“It’s Miss Ewing’s day off.” Leah motioned toward a rocking chair set at an angle in the corner of the dining room. “You’ll have to feed the child while I check on supper.”
Will limped back a pace. “I should be going...”
“Oh, no, you don’t.”
She moved around him, crowding him toward the chair until he had no other choice but to sit.
Reluctantly accepting the wiggling bundle, he appealed to Leah’s better nature. “Can you watch her for a few days? Just until I decide what to do?”
“I’d help you, Will. You know I’d do anything for you.” She protectively cupped her growing stomach. “But I can’t right now.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, sending a kick of guilt straight to his gut.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He knew full well how much she wanted her baby born healthy. How frightened she was that something might happen.
“I’m a watering pot these days.” Leah wiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “I don’t mind the asking as long as you respect my answer. You have more money than you know what to do with and enough space in your suite of rooms to house an orphanage. Hire someone. Then wait. There’s a good chance the mother will come back for her child. Sometimes...sometimes people make decisions they regret.”
Her words were an obvious reference to her past. As she handed him the bottle, he touched her hand. “We’re all praying for you, Leah.”
“I know. This time is different. Everything feels different. Everything feels...right.”
She did look beautiful. Joyful. Yet despite their past connection, the only thing he felt for her was a deep, abiding friendship. “You and Daniel will have a whole passel of children before you know it.”
“That’s what we’re hoping for.” Her expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry about what happened with Dora.”
“You did me a favor. There’s no need for an apology.”
Until a few weeks ago he’d been engaged to Dora Edison. Leah had overheard Dora bragging about how she was marrying Will for his money. When he’d confronted his fiancée, Dora had eventually admitted her true motivation. The breakup had been more 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
