Will considered other possibilities, the infant’s face screwed up like an apple left too long in the sun. The sound started off innocuous enough. A quiet mewling that barely registered. All too soon the quaint noise intensified into a boisterous wail. Will’s eyes widened at the sheer volume the infant produced. Miniature fists pummeled the air and diminutive pink-swathed feet kicked in frustration.
Growing alarmed, he tentatively reached for the bundle, scooping up several layers along with the infant. The child was impossibly light and small. Even with the enveloping blankets, her entire body nestled into the crook of his elbow.
A flash of movement at the end of the corridor snagged his attention. Not wanting to spook whoever might be hiding in the shadows, Will cautiously searched for the cause of the disturbance. From the corner of his eye he spotted a flicker of blue calico. His discovery was quickly followed by the sound of footsteps hastily pattering down the stairs.
He hesitated only an instant before snatching his cane with his free hand and giving chase. The woman had taken the back way. Planning to block her escape, Will took off in the opposite direction, toward the guest staircase.
As he clumsily navigated his descent, his feet sank into the Oriental carpet overlaying the treads. Mindful of the babe in his arms, he traversed the distance in short order, his bad leg screaming at the sudden exertion. He burst into the lobby and caught a glimpse of familiar blue calico pushing through the crowds. Ignoring his shout, the woman slammed through the brass-lined double doors.
His young porter, Simon, shot him a curious glance as he raced past and followed her outside.
The smell hit him first. A wall of dust polluted with the stench of four thousand animals. Bodies jostled. Men discreetly elbowed each other. Heads bobbed, eyes searching for a better look at the spectacular procession.
In front of the horrified onlookers, the mysterious woman charged straight into the parading line of cattle. Someone shrieked.
In a fraction of a second, the scene descended into chaos. People pushed and shoved. The cattle lowed. The crowd parted. Will’s heart lodged in his throat as an enormous steer with a great spread of pointed horns lunged toward them. He ducked behind a boardwalk support beam, shielding the infant with his body, then braced for a devastating blow.
A whoosh of air skimmed past their scanty shelter. He glanced up.
A cowboy riding a brown-and-white paint horse galloped into the pandemonium. In a blur of hooves, the rider dodged lethal horns and redirected the steer. Spooked animals set off in a trot. Displaying singular precision, the talented horse and rider feinted and parried, urging the steers back into line and slowing their frantic pace. When one particularly stubborn bull refused direction, the cowboy wheeled his horse around, nearly sitting the animal on its haunches, and forced the steer into line.
In a matter of seconds the drive was under control. Expelling sighs of relief, the crowd surged forward once more, people tittering nervously about the close call.
Will glanced at the infant in his arms and heaved his own sigh of relief. His mad dash had distracted the baby girl from whatever had set her crying earlier.
As the nimble cowboy moved toward him, upstream among the cattle, a smattering of applause followed his progress. Meaning to thank the man for his timely rescue, Will tipped back his head.
The words died on his lips.
A stunning redheaded woman with brilliant green eyes gazed down at him from atop the paint horse. He stared, transfixed. Those big, expressive eyes weren’t just green; they were the purest shade of emerald he’d ever seen. Her hair wasn’t just red, either; it was a copper fire, curling in abandon around her shoulders, quelled into submission beneath a drover’s hat fastened with a string of leather beneath her chin.
Her amused gaze washed over him like a cool breeze off a mountain spring.
Realizing she expected him to speak, he cleared his throat. “Thank you for your assistance, Miss...?”
* * *
Tomasina Stone extended her arm, presenting the handsome stranger with a hand encased in a fringed leather glove. “Miss Stone, if you’re looking for a cap to that question.”
She’d seen some peculiar sights in her time. She’d seen a cowboy so lonesome he’d howled at the moon. She’d seen a dog raise an abandoned skunk baby alongside her own pups. Once she’d even seen a river in the Colorado Territory run uphill atop the continental divide. However, never in her twenty-two years had she ever seen a sight this odd.
The man standing on the boardwalk in front of her was holding a baby in one arm and an expensive-looking, silver-handled cane in the other. Despite his peculiar circumstances, the man appeared strangely calm and in charge. As though he’d just finished adding a column of numbers instead of dodging a near mauling beneath the deadly hooves of a longhorn steer.
“Was anyone hurt?” he demanded.
“No one was hurt,” Tomasina assured the man. “No thanks to that fool woman who tried to cut across the street. She turned back soon enough. Disappeared into the crowd, so I expect she’s fine.”
The man anchored his cane beneath his arm and clasped her hand in greeting. His touch was firm without being crushing.
“The name is Will Canfield,” he said. “Thank you for your assistance, Miss Stone.”
“You sure picked a dangerous place to take your baby for a walk, Daddy Canfield. Might want to reconsider your route next time.”
The measured expression on his face faltered a notch. “Oh, this isn’t my baby.”
Having been raised around men her whole life, Tomasina had never given their looks too much thought. This fellow stood out. He wasn’t overly bulky, like some of the cowboys she rode with, or reed-thin, like the bankers in town, but something in between. His beard was trimmed in a precise goatee and his head was bare, revealing his neatly clipped brown hair. He was polite, but there was a clever edge in his dark eyes. This wasn’t a man easily crossed.
He reminded Tomasina of her first impression of Cowboy Creek; a mixture of the wild, untamed West with the appearance of cultivation brought by the easterners after the war. There was something more about him, though; an inherent air of authority. She’d give her eyeteeth if he hadn’t once been a soldier, and an officer, by the way he carried himself.
She hoisted an eyebrow. “Reckon who that baby belongs to is none of my business one way or the other.” She gestured toward the child. “Judging by how that little fellow’s mouth is working, you’d best find his mama soon. Looks like he’s getting ready for feeding time”
“It’s a girl,” Will corrected. “She’s wearing pink booties. I checked earlier.”
“Is that a fact?” Their exchange was turning into a real doozy. Tomasina tucked away the conversation for the next time the boys were telling tall tales around the campfire. “I think your girl is getting hungry. Better get mama.”
“That’s the whole problem.” The man spoke more to the infant in his arms than to her. “Someone abandoned her. I found her on my doorstep just now.”
Yep, Tomasina had seen a lot of strange things in her life, but this spectacle topped them all. “I can’t help you there. Any reason the baby’s mama picked you
