so fast.” Tomasina stuck her booted foot over the threshold. “You and I have business.”
“I believe we concluded our business yesterday, Miss Stone. Or shall I call you Texas Tom? I should have realized it was you immediately.” He grimaced as he clutched the squirming, angry baby tighter in the crook of his arm. “Except I’ve been distracted lately.”
“Tomasina will do just fine.” She scowled. “You have no right to interfere with my rodeo show.”
“The town ordinance is clear, as I’m sure Sheriff Davis informed you.”
“I’m guessing you spoke with him first.”
The sheriff’s previous conciliatory mood had taken a sudden turn for the worse. It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out who had changed his mind.
Will moved deeper into the room, and she followed close on his heels.
Blowing out a low whistle, she gaped. His suite was positively dandified. Fancy fringed curtains the shade of pine needles hung from the windows, and the furniture was covered in wine-colored velvet fabric. She’d never seen the White House, but she imagined this room was fit for a president. Well, except for the nappies strung out to dry across the archway and the blankets and tiny clothing littering the furniture and the floor. She didn’t suppose those were the usual accoutrements of the White House. Despite the mess, peeking out from beneath all that clutter were some fine pieces of furniture. Having lived most of her life out of a tent, she savored the feel of the cushy rug beneath her feet.
“You sure live fancy,” she declared.
“This is only a temporary residence.”
Tomasina collapsed onto a tufted chair and draped her arms over the sides. “I could get used to some temporary quarters like this.”
Closing her eyes, she let her body sink into the cozy stuffing. Rarely had she enjoyed such luxury. Chairs of any kind were scarce on the trail; she preferred traveling light. Most times she sat on the hard ground. Occasionally she rustled up a stump or a rock. This chair was pure bliss. Not even the wailing baby could put an immediate damper on her enjoyment.
“Looks like you have your hands full.” She opened one eye and squinted. “Where’s your housekeeper? The porter said she was helping out.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Mrs. Foster is on her lunch break.”
“You ought to hire someone else. I hear the maids are running amok.”
“Simon talks too much.” Will leaned heavily on his cane. “If you must know, the reverend’s daughter has offered to assist, as well. She’s coming by this evening.”
The infant’s wailing continued unchecked, and a sharp pain throbbed behind Tomasina’s temple. “Word of that baby sure spread fast.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “You think her mother will ever come back? Most mamas are protective of their young’uns.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
“Then again, maybe she won’t. I once saw a heifer reject her calf. Almost killed the poor thing before we separated them.”
Clenching his jaw, he glowered down at her. “Your optimism is comforting. Truly. If you’ve finished cheering me up, you may go.”
“I’m not leaving that easy,” Tomasina retorted. “About the rodeo...” She leaned forward and raised her voice over the squalling baby. “Look, we’ve been on the trail for more than three months. The boys just need to blow off a little steam.”
“You’re a tenacious little thing, aren’t you? When cowboys blow off steam, property is damaged.”
“I’m not little. And nothing will be damaged. The boys can be a might rowdy, but they’re good men. All of ’em. I can vouch for that.”
Will quirked a brow. “You can vouch for all of them?”
Okay, he had her there. Tomasina wrapped a curl around one finger. Drovers were a nomadic bunch by nature. While she knew most of the men on her crew, there were always new faces coming and going. “Most of them.”
Will barely spared her a glance, his attention now fully focused on the fussy baby. The infant’s arms stretched out wide, and her face screwed up. Silent for a breath, she seemed to be struggling for air. Her arms and legs flailed. The next instant she let out an earsplitting wail, her lower lip trembling with the effort.
Will held the baby away from his body and juggled her lightly. “There, there, Ava,” he crooned. “There’s no need to fuss.”
“I didn’t know she had a name.” Tomasina paused. Giving the baby a name made her more real somehow. Not that the baby wasn’t real before. She was just easier to dismiss. “It’s a nice name.”
“I had to call her something until her mother returns.”
“Have you fed Miss Ava lately?” The baby’s distress was getting to her, and Tomasina temporarily abandoned her argument. “Maybe she’s hungry.”
“She has been fed. She has been burped. She has been changed. There is absolutely no reason for this behavior.”
Tomasina stood and peered at the infant’s scrunched-up face. “Did you hear that, li’l missy? Daddy Canfield doesn’t think you’re being reasonable.” Tomasina sighed and reached for the bundle. “Here, let me have her. You’re doing it all wrong.”
Will hesitated for several long seconds before handing over Ava.
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and heaved a breath. “I don’t know how such a tiny creature can make such a racket.”
“Maybe she misses her mama.” Tomasina tucked the baby snugly against her body. “I bet your mama misses you, too, Ava.”
Tomasina had only meant to quiet Ava, but a curious warmth enveloped her. Pacing back and forth, something unfurled inside her; a gentle awakening. She’d been around lots of baby animals in her life, and they were all plenty cute. Ava was different. Once she quit her squalling and Tomasina got a good look at her, she marveled at the change. As those beautiful eyes blinked, long, dark lashes swept over plump cheeks. Her chubby hands fisted restlessly against the blanket. Tomasina had never seen such tiny, perfectly shaped fingernails. Ava even smelled good. The infant’s sweet scent teased her senses.
Nuzzling her forehead, Tomasina whispered comforting words. The tune of an old camp song tugged at her memory. Unheeding of Will’s curious stare, she sang softly.
“O bury me not on the lone prairie
Where coyotes howl and the wind blows free
In a narrow grave just six by three—
O bury me not on the lone prairie
It matters not, I’ve been told,
Where the body lies when the heart grows cold
Yet grant, o grant, this wish to me
O
