The Cowboy's Baby Bond (15 page)

Willow stared, too shocked by Celia's words to speak.

“While you enjoyed marriage and a baby, we endured harsh rules. Mrs. Reames beat me with a little wire whip. But you wouldn't care.”

Willow's knees turned to pudding and she sank to the ground. Celia had been beaten? No wonder she was bitter. “I did it for you. And for Adam. I had to marry Bertie.” Had her sacrifices been in vain?

“You did it so you could be free of us.”

Willow glanced toward Sarah. Her eyes were big but watchful. No doubt she'd heard these accusations from Celia before and needed to hear Willow's response.

Celia rushed on. “Now I suppose you're going to leave us here and take Adam back to the Reameses. He's the grandson. They'll dote on him. They'll be kind to you and give you everything you need. But don't worry. We'll manage just fine.” She stalked toward the alley at the back of the yard.

“Celia, he isn't their grandson. They don't want to see him.” She could barely get the words out.

Celia gave no indication she'd heard and strode away into the dark.

A footstep from the other direction jerked Willow to her feet. “Who is it?” she called.

Out of the darkness, Johnny stepped forward. He stopped at the edge of the light, his expression sober.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know you weren't truthful with me. To know you didn't trust me.” He took in the fire and the quilt where Sarah sat with Adam, her expression fearful. Willow longed to reassure her little sister, but she needed to find Celia.

“Why are you out here?” Johnny asked.

“The house is not ready to be lived in.”

He took the lamp and strode to the door.

She turned to Sarah. “Stay with Adam. Don't let him go near the fire.” Then she hurried after Johnny.

The lamp held higher in Johnny's hands made the interior look even worse than before.

“This isn't fit for animals,” he muttered.

“I'll fix it up.” She reached for his arm. “I need to explain about Adam.”

He stepped back and turned to hold the lamp between them. She would have rather stayed in the dark to tell her secret.

Ignoring the searing pain that consumed her entire being at having to admit who and what she really was, she began her story. “I had a fiancé, and when my parents died, I turned to him for comfort. Allowed him to take advantage of me. He soon made it clear that he wasn't ready to accept the responsibility of a child. I had to go to Mr. Reames and admit my condition.”

She would not reveal anything but the facts. Not how Mr. Reames had made her feel dirty. How he had threatened to turn her and her sisters out of his house.

“His son, Bertie, was always in trouble. He wanted to go to the gold mines in Wolf Hollow. He and his father fought about it.” She shuddered. The scene had filled her with terror. Never had she heard a parent and child speak to each other in that fashion. Where was the love? The tenderness and compassion? She'd soon learned the Reames men knew little about such feelings. But she struggled to believe Mrs. Reames had not been any better.

“Finally, Mr. Reames said he would finance the trip if Bertie and I married. Dealing with two unpleasant situations at one time.” Willow drew in a breath. “If I agreed and kept Bertie on the straight and narrow—his exact words—he would see that the girls were given a home.” Her voice fell. “I didn't know they would be beaten.” Or was it only Celia? The sister who was so challenging?

Willow lifted her face to Johnny, hoping he would soften and wrap his arms around her. She ached for comfort and acceptance.

He didn't move toward her. “All I ever wanted was truth and trust. I allowed myself to believe you gave it. But you gave neither.”

“I'm sorry. I did it for Adam. I hope you won't let the truth about his situation be known. People will be unkind to him.”

“I would never do anything to hurt the child.” Johnny edged past her and left the house. “But you didn't trust me enough to believe that. You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

She followed, feeling as battered as if someone had applied a switch to every inch of her body.

“Knowing how low the supplies are, I brought some food.” He indicated a sack on the ground.

She wasn't hungry. She didn't want food. What she wanted could never be hers. Somehow she managed to make her mouth work. “Thank you.”

“I'll find Celia and bring her back. Perhaps it's time to tell her the truth.” Then he disappeared into the shadows.

Darkness filling her heart, Willow sank down beside Sarah and Adam.

Sarah wiggled over and put Adam in her lap. Willow cuddled her son.
Please don't let this come back on him.

Sarah pressed her cheek to Willow's shoulder. “Everything will be okay. Jesus loves you.”

“I know.” And it would have to be enough. It would have to be enough for the rest of her life. Just as she feared, once a man knew of her indiscretion, he turned his back on her.

Why had she allowed herself to think Johnny would be different?

* * *

Johnny had no trouble finding Celia. She'd gone only to the end of the block and leaned against a shed wall there. “You have to go back,” he said.

“You appointing yourself my boss now?”

“Nope. But I won't let you roam the streets alone after I risked my life to rescue you.”

“Don't recall asking you to do that.”

“So you said.” He was weary of this whole mess. A belligerent girl. A woman who didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth. No wonder she hadn't talked much about her husband. And talked a lot about the need for secrets. Well, he was done with the lot of them. He'd make sure they were safely settled and then he'd get out to the cabin where he belonged.

“I brought some food.”

Celia hesitated, as if to convince them both she wasn't eager for a good meal. “Guess I could eat.”

Together they returned down the alley. Each step brought him back to everything he longed for and couldn't have. He had trusted Willow. Allowed himself to care for her—and care deeply. Had she not realized that when he kissed her? Or was she too busy keeping secrets?

“Did you see the house?” Celia asked. “It's a mess.”

“Yeah, it is, but you can't blame Willow for that.” Why was he defending her? Except Celia deserved to know the truth. It would hurt when she learned she'd been allowed to believe something that wasn't true. But better the truth now than continued secrets. “I was with her when she rented it. She didn't have time to look at it because she was anxious to locate you and Sarah.”

“Yeah, funny how she always has an excuse. I wonder what her excuse was for leaving us with the Reameses.”

“I'm sorry you were treated badly, but she didn't know that.” Or did she? Was it another secret she'd kept? “Unless you told her.”

“'Course I didn't. I figured she didn't care.”

“Then I guess that makes you as much to blame as her.” They were almost back at the fire and he had much he wanted to say to this unhappy child. “Seems to me part of the problem between you is that neither of you has been honest with the other. It's time to clear this up. I believe Willow has something she wants to tell you.” He would have taken Celia by the arm and led her forward, but feared she would flee from his touch.

Instead he stepped into the firelight. “Willow, it's time you told Celia what you told me. I'll stay with these two while you do.”

She stared at him. “I don't—”

“Things can never be right between you when you aren't honest.”

Her eyes flared at the accusation in his words. She understood he meant himself as well as her sister. “Very well. Come along, Celia.”

“Where to? I'm not going into that dirty house again. Ever.”

“Fine. Let's go to the front.” They made their way around the side of the building. A few minutes later he could hear the murmur of their voices, but no words.

“Am I going to hear the secret?” Sarah asked.

He thought of the likelihood of innocent Sarah blurting out the truth about Adam. “When you're a little older. You wouldn't want to know it right now.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Okay, he admitted Willow had reason to guard her secret. But telling him wasn't like announcing it from the rooftop. No, it would have indicated she trusted him.

Without truth and trust, there could be no relationship. He knew that as clearly as he knew his own name. If only the two had existed in his relationship with Willow. He'd gone against his own decision and grown much too fond of her.

Now there was nothing to do but add these past few days to his catalog of lessons well learned, and move on.

Chapter Fourteen

J
ohnny hunkered down across the alley from where Willow and her family sat around the campfire. They couldn't see him, didn't know he hadn't left. But despite his disappointment with Willow, he could not ride away until he knew they were safe. Sleeping outdoors with dozens of men tromping in and out of town was not, in his opinion, a safe choice. Not that they had an alternative unless they went to the hotel.

Could she afford such accommodations? Had her husband found the gold he'd gone in search of? How had he died? So many questions marched through Johnny's mind. So few answers.

The smell of frying bacon brought a wash of saliva to his mouth. He was hungry. When he'd bought the supplies, he'd imagined helping prepare the food, then sitting around a table to share it with the family.

That was a lifetime ago. Everything had changed when he'd overheard her confession. Now he would sit alone, cold and hungry.

He watched Celia. Had Willow's confession softened her attitude toward her sister? She took a plate of food from Willow's hand, mumbled a thank-you. She sounded as bitter as ever. Didn't she believe Willow? That Willow had done what she'd had to for her sisters, for Adam and, yes, for herself? Johnny's insides grated with frustration. The truth achieved nothing if it wasn't believed.

Sarah said something and both Willow and Celia laughed.

He settled back against the shed he leaned on. Maybe things would be better between them now. Willow deserved that.

Was it only a few hours ago that he'd held her in his arms and thought he could put behind him his bitter lessons about trust? Were all women the same? Or was there something about him that made them think he wasn't worthy of honesty? When women looked at him, did they see a man like the half-breed he'd sent the sheriff to pick up?

No, not Willow. She had been shocked when Celia made unkind comments about Johnny's mixed race. Despite his recent experience with her lack of honesty, he knew she'd been truthful about that. A smile tugged at his heart, but he pushed it aside.

Across the alley, Willow and the girls cleaned up after the meal. He watched her prepare Adam for bed.

Johnny wished he could kiss the baby good-night, stroke his soft head.

It was not to be.

He waited as the girls settled into their bedrolls. Willow didn't spread her quilt. Rather, she sat on the steps to the house, clutching something in her lap. It was the bag that held her gun. She meant to sit up all night watching her sisters and the baby!

He half rose, thinking to tell her she could safely go to sleep, then puffed out a breath and sank back against the shed, not wanting her to know he would keep watch. She would be surprised. He could explain it was only his sense of responsibility. He hadn't brought them this far to see harm come to them now. Would she believe his explanation? Did he?

He must.

He sat there, watching, until Willow curled up before the door. She'd fallen asleep. Now he could close his eyes and do the same, knowing from years of practice that he would waken at any sound. But never before had he slept in town and the cacophony of noises throughout the night jerked him awake time after time. Several dogs alternated barking. A baby cried somewhere. A tin can rattled. A door slammed. How did people get any sleep?

A woman cried out, her voice familiar, and he jolted to attention. Willow. What was wrong? The pale light of dawn allowed him to see her, still curled on the ground. Then she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Had she had a nightmare? He wrapped his arms about himself, wishing he could comfort her, but her lack of trust had ruined things between them.

She stood, brushed her wayward hair off her face and stepped closer to where the others slept. Satisfied they were safe and sound, she turned to consider the house. He could almost hear her thoughts churning. Perhaps she believed she could fix the place up, but the only thing that would improve that house was a match tossed into it.

He pushed himself to his feet and crossed the alley. “Morning.” He spoke softly to keep from waking the others.

She spun around, her hand pressed to her throat. “I thought you'd gone.”

“Decided to wait until it was light out.” Partly true. He would have stayed in town, or nearby, even if he hadn't needed to keep watch over Willow's family. He stared at the house. From this point of view she couldn't see how many shingles had blown from the roof, but they could both see the broken window next to the door.

She pointed. “Guess that explains the bird debris inside.”

“You can't stay here, you know.”

She spared him one stubborn look, then returned her gaze to the house. “I don't know that. In fact, I plan to stay here. I'll clean the place so you won't recognize it.”

“You could take Adam and the girls to the ranch. Maisie would welcome you.”

“I have no doubt she would. But I want my own family, my own home. I'm done accepting plans made by others.”

She hadn't said so, but he understood she meant Mr. Reames's plan that required she take care of Bertie. In return, she'd expected him to fulfill his part of the agreement to take care of her sisters.

“What I'm suggesting isn't like that,” Johnny said.

“I need to do this.” Her softly spoken words carried a wealth of emotion—need, loneliness and perhaps a touch of shame.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep from pulling her close and saying she had nothing to be ashamed of. It took two to make a baby, but it was always the young woman who paid the price.

“If you change your mind...” He expected she would after a few hours of trying to make this hovel livable. “Go to the ranch. I'll let Maisie know to expect you.”

“Don't waste your breath. We are going to stay here.”

The sun broke over the eastern sky. “You want to see it in the light of day?”

“I'm not changing my mind.” She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He followed. Bird droppings, feathers and debris were everywhere, even on the walls. And the ceiling sagged from repeated soakings. Big Sam would have roared if anyone let the barn get this bad. How could she expect to make a home here? “It's worse than I thought.” About all that could be said in the building's favor was the floor hadn't caved in.

“It's not as bad as
I
thought.”

Johnny struggled to hold back a smile. Despite how things had changed between them, he still enjoyed her spirit.

“All I have to do is shovel out this garbage, scrub the place and add a few homey touches.”

He chuckled, earning him a questioning look.

“You don't think I can do it?” she asked.

“Exactly the opposite. I was admiring your determination.”

Their gazes caught and riveted together. If only... But as Maisie said, “If
ifs
and
ands
were pots and pans there'd be no work for tinkers' hands.”

Adam's cry had them both turning to the door, bumping into each other.

Johnny held back, let her rush to her son. He had no right to check on the boy. In fact, now that morning had dawned, he could ride away with a clear conscience, knowing they were safe. And if he missed the baby, Sarah and even Celia, that was simply the way it would be.

The girls stirred and sat up.

Celia stared at him. “Did you spend the night here?”

“I spent it in town. I'm about ready to leave.”

“Leave?” Sarah came to her feet. “You aren't staying? I thought... Why are you leaving?”

Willow caught her little sister and held her close. “Honey, I thought you understood he only meant to help us for a little while. He has other plans.”

Sarah's eyes filled with tears. Her voice shook when she asked, “But can't you change your mind and stay with us?”

Pain shafted clear to the center of Johnny's being. Would his heart always be subjected to such an ache when he saw or thought of these people? One thing for sure, he would not be coming to town anytime in the near future, where he'd run the risk of seeing them. “Sarah, I promised my friend I'd fix the cabin and be there when he returns.”

“But after that you can come here. Right?”

Willow caught Sarah's face with her fingers, tipping it up. “Honey, he's not coming back. Say goodbye.”

Sarah broke from Willow's grasp and hurried far enough away that none of them could touch her. She stared at them, tears streaking her face. “If you all loved Jesus, this wouldn't happen.”

Johnny ached for the child. How could she begin to understand that loving Jesus did not mean things would always work out the way she wanted? He glanced at Willow, his ache deepening at the distress in her face. How could he leave her to deal with all this turmoil?

She took a step toward Sarah, but the child backed up, waving her away.

“Honey, loving Jesus means trusting Him even when we can't understand what is happening.”

Sarah's gaze clung to Willow, searching. She clearly wanted to believe, but wasn't quite certain she could. Then she nodded. “I will trust Him even if I don't like what you people are doing.”

Johnny smiled at Sarah's statement. She obviously blamed people, not God. Not a bad thing to do. But Willow's words must surely condemn her. Love equaled trust. Why hadn't she realized that before she had destroyed what was between them?

Maybe she had learned her lesson. Did she deserve a second chance? He ached to say yes. But trust went both ways, and he didn't know if he could ever again be completely confident in her.

He steeled himself. “I need to be on my way. Goodbye.”

Adam sat cradled in Willow's arms, and Johnny hesitated. He wanted to say a proper farewell to the baby and bent to kiss his head.

Willow's hair trickled across Johnny's cheek, sending a thousand wishes and regrets racing through his veins. He took a slow, deep breath. He would never forget the smell of a warm baby fresh from his sleep, nor the sunny, sage smell of the baby's mother.

“Man.” Adam reached for him.

Willow turned away. “Not this time, son.”

“Man.” Adam's voice grew demanding as he repeated the word.

Johnny couldn't walk away from that insistent request. “I'll hold him a minute if you have no objections.”

Willow hesitated a second, then gave the baby to him. “He'll have to get used to it.”

Johnny understood she meant Adam would have to get used to not seeing him, a fact that sank into his heart like a hot stone. He pushed aside his regrets to grin at Adam and make a rumbling sound with his lips. He felt Adam's chuckle deep in his heart.

Johnny turned to Celia. “I hope things are better between you and Willow now.”

“Like it's any of your business.” Celia glowered at him, then her scowl faded and she lowered her head so he couldn't see her expression. “We'll be just fine.” She mumbled a few more words.

He couldn't be certain, but it sounded as if she added “Without you.”

Of course they would be fine without him. No reason he should mind if they were.

He turned to Sarah. “You gonna give me a hug before I leave?”

She studied him, reluctant at first, as if by being standoffish she could persuade him to change his mind. Then she flew to his arms. “I don't want you to go.”

“I must.” He kissed her forehead, then straightened.

He kissed Adam one last time and handed him back to Willow. Johnny should not have met her eyes, but he couldn't resist. Their looks went deep, as if they each searched for something they'd lost. But lost was lost.

He was the first to break free and, calling goodbye, he strode from the yard, not turning when Adam called, “Man.” Not turning when his heart ached for him to change his mind.

Sometimes the heart did not know what was best. Sometimes it was wisest to listen to the brain.

* * *

As soon as Adam and the girls had eaten breakfast, Willow toured the house again, making plans as she examined each room. She had a broom, buckets and rags in the wagon. She needed a shovel, and some supplies for meals she could make outdoors until the place was fit to live in.

She'd examined the stove and knew it would serve the purpose, though the pipes would need a good cleaning.

“Johnny said we could go to the ranch.” Celia stood in the doorway observing her. “Why don't we go there?”

Celia must have been awake and overheard their conversation. “We need our own home and we'll get it.” Willow examined the sagging cupboard and mentally added hammer and nails to her list.

“Or maybe it's because he's mad at you.”

She stared at her sister. “Why do you say that?”

“Please give me a little credit. You've gone from lovey-dovey to hardly being able to speak to each other. And I know he found out about Adam.”

Willow glanced past Celia to make sure Sarah was out of earshot. She and Adam were playing on the quilt.

“I meant to take that secret to my grave. I wish I could. He didn't understand.” Nor did Willow know if Celia did. Last night her sister had listened without comment to Willow's explanation about why she'd married Bertie and why they had moved away. She had no idea what her sister thought about it. Nor was she eager to learn.

“Why does it matter?”

“Celia, people can be very judgmental and downright mean. I want to spare Adam that.”

“Yes, I understand about people not being nice.” Bitterness soured Celia's words.

Willow's heart hit bottom. “I had no idea about Mrs. Reames.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “Now, if you'd said that about Mr. Reames, I wouldn't have been surprised, but I thought it was surely a man's trait. I thought Bertie was like his father. But that doesn't matter.” She had no wish to make it seem she was sorry for herself. “I regret you experienced that. If I'd known...”