A Certain Kind of Hero (34 page)

“I promised I'd fix this, didn't I?”

“I found the ear in my toy box,” Jody reported as he lined two cars up side by side.

“And that was good finding.” Tate watched him add a third car to the row, then a fourth. “I'm sorry I yelled at you before.” A yellow car came into line, but this one drove up slowly. “I know I sounded like I was mad at you. I wasn't. Not really.”

With his thumb on its roof Jody rocked the yellow car back and forth on its diminutive wheels. “I'm not supposed to get around the tractor when it's running,” he confided quietly. “The tires are big, and the PTO can grab my hair or my shirt and really get me hurt.”

“That's right.” As formidable as the huge tires were, the tractor's power takeoff was an appalling threat, and the danger of lost limbs was one of the earliest warnings every ranch kid heard. “Your mom has told you all that, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. And my dad.” He sat up, pivoted on his bottom and looked up at Tate. “I just forgot for a minute.”

“I know. That can happen.” Tate glanced at the yellow car as he laced his fingers together. “You know what happened to me when I looked down and saw you there?”

“No.”

“I was scared I was gonna hit you. And I yelled at you because I was mad at myself for not seeing you sooner.” His eyes darted back to the anxious little face. “The driver is responsible, Jody. Not you. When you're driving a vehicle, you have to make sure there's nothing behind you, nothing in front of you that you might hit….”

But Tate realized that there was only one thing the boy understood. The big man had been as threatening as the big tractor. “I'm sorry,” Tate offered. “I didn't mean to yell at you. It wasn't your fault. It was mine.” The boy hung his head. “I scared you, huh?”

Jody nodded. “I was a little bit scared.”

“I was a lot scared.” Tate lifted his hands and spread them in invitation, and Jody scrambled to his feet and came running. He threw his arms around Tate's neck with grateful abandon, and Tate closed his eyes and hugged him for all he was worth.

“It was a close call, Jody. You know what a close call is?”

“I could have got hit by the tractor?”

“After a close call is all over, it's too late to be scared, but it doesn't matter. It still haunts you for a while, kind of like a bad dream.” He leaned back and looked Jody in the eye. “If I'd hurt you, I don't know what I would have done.”

“You'd take me to the doctor, wouldn't you?”

“Yes, I would.” He lifted the boy onto his lap. “I sure would. We're partners.”

“We're partners.”

“We birthed a baby together today, didn't we? You and me, we helped your little sister get born.” Jody tested the prickliness of Tate's stubble against his palm, and Tate smiled. “'Course, your mom did most of the work. That's why she was making all that noise—because it's hard work pushing the baby out. That's why they call it
labor.
And now she needs rest, so we're gonna do all the work around here, 'cause she's done her share for a while.”

“I can fix my own bed, and I can feed Daisy and Duke and Cinnamon Toast.”

“And I can feed you,” Tate said as he patted Jody's bottom. “You ready to eat?”

Not quite. Jody was still thinking. “It scared me more when
she
yelled,” he mused. “I never heard her yell like that before.”

“And then I yelled, and you must think all the grownups went crazy today. But we're okay now. It's been a crazy, terrible, fantastic day, and we made it through.” He squeezed Jody's shoulder. “So let's have ourselves something to eat.”

“Are you gonna shave?” Jody asked as they headed toward the kitchen.

“Prob'ly I should.”

“Can I watch?”

 

Amy laid her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes. Tate Harrison was such a difficult man to figure out. One minute he was out boozing with Overo's hell-raisers, and the next he was bringing her daughter into the world with more levelheadedness and every bit as much tender concern as she might have expected from her child's own father. She'd never seen Tate more shaken than he'd been today, or more jubilant.

Vigilant as any brooding hen, she was glad she'd been able to eavesdrop on the conversation he'd had with Jody across the hall. She wasn't sure what to make of the terrible guilt she'd seen in Tate's eyes when he'd told her about the incident with Jody, but she knew he had not harmed her son. She breathed a long, gratified sigh. She was fundamentally independent, but she had trusted Tate with a most intimate and momentous task, and he had come through for her in spades. Thank God she could continue to trust him with her son.

She wasn't going to start relying on him, she reminded herself. The man's feet were made of sand. But he had more
heart than she'd ever given him credit for, and she was hoping she could lean on that particular muscle and a few others until she could truly get back on her feet again. She wouldn't
depend
on his support. But as long as he was willing to stay, it wouldn't hurt to lean on it, just a little.

W
hen Amy's milk came in her breasts blew up like twin beach balls. Tate had never seen anything like it. He'd brought her a sandwich and discovered, once again, a changed woman. He tried not to stare, but she caught him at it. She laughed, he thought quite charitably. He stared at the toes of his boots, then tried to zoom back up to her face. But his damned eyes were drawn right back to the same amazing transformation in her otherwise almost-back-to-normal body.

He shook his head and gave up trying to be cool. “Are they gonna stay like that?”

Now she howled. “Lord have mercy, I have finally arrived. Voluptuous at last.”

“Well, either way, I mean…I always thought you had a nice—”
Chest on you.
He tore his eyes away as he groped for an alternative. “
Shape.
Really nice. But, you know, this is…nice, too.”

“They won't stay this way long.” She accepted the proffered
plate and gave a quick shrug. “My milk just came in with a vengeance is all.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Suck in a real deep breath.” He complied. “Now suck in some more. Now a little more. Feel like you're gonna bust yet?” He nodded. She took up the sandwich. “Now hold it for a couple of days and see if it hurts.”

He deflated quickly. “I gotta give up those cigarettes. Damn, that pinches.”

“Exactly.” Amy set her own lunch aside on the signal of soft baby murmurs. “Would you like to hand me my little milk drainer?”

Tate stepped over to the bassinet. Karen had kicked off her pink blanket, tiny legs churning involuntarily. He folded it around her and lifted her in his hands. She was cranking up to cry, but she changed her mind when he cuddled her against his chest. He liked the sweet little sounds she made, even though she was rooting around a dry well.

“Can't help you there, little girl. Your mama's got what you want and then some.” He shifted Karen for the transfer as he came to the side of the bed. “You got a preference which side?”

“Ready on the right, ready on the left.”

The buttons on Amy's nightgown already lay open between her bulging breasts. Tate swallowed hard. Amy pulled her white gown aside as he laid the baby in the crook of her left arm, positioning the little pink cheek near the source of mother's milk. The miniature mouth fit over the distended nipple like a trailer coupling. Tate felt a surge of excitement that had nothing to do with hunger and little to do with sex. Pride, maybe. He wasn't ogling, but he was having a hell of a time tearing his eyes away.

“Would you hand me a bath towel off the dresser?” Amy asked.

He snatched it up and returned to her, glanced in her eyes for permission, then admired the tranquil activity at her breast again. A wet spot was quickly growing over her right breast, and he understood the need for the towel. Impulsively he knelt beside the bed. She lifted her right elbow. He tucked the towel under her side and arranged it over her breast.

“I keep getting everything wet.”

“I'll change the bed when you're done.” The baby's contented little noises made him smile. “Seems like a waste of good produce.”

“There's such an abundance to start with. If I were a ewe, I'd probably have twins. Two mouths to suckle.” Now it
did
have something to do with sex, something to do with a man's urge to kiss a woman at the damnedest times. His head was falling fast. He was drowning in her eyes, sinking like a stone, going under for the third time. When the authorities dredged up his corpse, it would be obvious where he carried the lead weight that had pulled him under. He hoped she would be able to explain it away in the eulogy.

Amy saw it coming, and she met it head-on with a warm, wet, open-mouthed kiss.

Just one kiss, but it was a real breath-stealer. When it was over, he couldn't quite draw away. Forehead to forehead they rested, their mouths sharing hot breath, their nostrils filled with the scent of sweet milk.

“I couldn't help myself,” he whispered.

“It's all right.” She drew a long, slow breath. “A woman needs a man's kiss when she's…” He lifted his head and looked expectantly into her eyes. She glanced away. “I heard you talking to Jody. I get scared, too, sometimes. When I
realized I was in labor, and I knew I was alone, I really got scared.”

She wasn't alone now. He wanted her to know that. He cupped his hand around her cheek and kissed her again, more gently this time. He couldn't remember when he'd ever gotten down on his knees to kiss a woman. He told himself that he just wanted to assure her that he was there, but her lips were remarkably responsive, and she tasted so damn good.

She took his hand, put it on her belly, then covered it with hers and pressed it tight. He felt a bulge in her stomach, but it was hard, like muscle.

“It hurts when the baby nurses,” she explained quietly. “It's nature's way of making my uterus contract back down to size, but it…” Her fingers dug into the back of his hand. He took the hint and began kneading the knot in her belly. “I've had enough of pain,” she said.

“Yes, you have.” If he could take it away, he would thank her for the privilege. “It doesn't seem fair. It was hard to watch you suffer with it. It's no wonder you were scared.”

“I was afraid for my baby. I was afraid I wasn't strong enough.” She tipped her head back against the pillow, eyes closed as she remembered. “I was going to call someone else, the sheriff or someone, but I was afraid it was too late for anyone to…” She gave him her soft earth-mother smile. “Thank you for coming back in time, Tate.”

“I shouldn't have left.”

He never should have left Overo in the first place, not without her. He should have stayed and fought for her instead of letting Kenny…

Oh, hell, he'd been through all this before, beating himself up inside in a way that no other judge or critic could manage. It was pointless. Kenny was the family man, not Tate.

“I shouldn't have left at all
that night,
” he clarified, still
kneading her gently. “I knew your time was close. I shouldn't have left you alone.”

“But you're not my husband, so you didn't owe me that kind of commitment.”

“No.” He knew she meant to absolve him. He wasn't sure why it felt like a rejection. “I'm not your husband. But I'm your husband's best friend. I'm, uh…” Reluctantly he drew his hand back and pushed himself to his feet. “Committed to him. His memory. To taking good care of his wife and his—”

“Tate, don't—”

“And his kids. Anything for Kenny's family. You need anything—food, sheets, towels…” He tossed her a cocky wink. “You need a man's kiss, honey, you just call on me anytime.”

 

He brooded on that scene for the rest of the day. He would have gone into town and gotten himself good and drunk if it weren't for the fact that there was so damn much work to do around the place. That night he fixed Jody's broomstick horse. He gave it a new horsehair mane. He'd culled the black hair from a trimming he'd given the gelding he'd stopped thinking of as Kenny's horse and started calling Outlaw. He fixed the ears and the frayed rein, and he gave it a whole new broomstick.

Jody's response to the refurbished toy couldn't have been more rewarding for Tate if he'd bought the boy something grand and new and presented it all tied up with a big red bow. Jody announced that his horse's new name was Outlaw, Jr., and that he was going to ride him “up and down and all around the town.” He was Amy's mounted escort when she went out to the barn “just to say hello” to a ewe that Tate had brought back from the pasture and treated for foot rot. And Tate was the baby-sitter.

“How's my little girl?” he whispered as he knelt beside the bassinet. Since nobody but Karen could hear him, he figured he could indulge himself in the possessive claim. The baby knew what he meant. She grabbed his forefinger, and they shook on it.

He liked the soft little baby sounds she made as she waved her fist and turned her head from side to side, trying to focus on his face. “What are you telling me, huh? What do you see? It's not your mama's face. Kinda bristly. Needs a shave, same as it did the first time you saw it. Remember how you bawled? Was I that scary?”

He picked her up, taking a yellow flannel blanket with her, and he held her high against his shoulder. “Not anymore, huh? Wanna go for a little walk and see some more stuff?”
Just you and me, kid. Nobody else hears me babbling like this.
“You know what? You're not scary anymore, either. I've gotten used to you being such a little tyke.”

He rubbed her flannel-covered back as he carried her into the living room, just for a change of scene. “'Course, this is as little as you'll ever be. Next time I come to visit…” She rewarded his back rubbing with what seemed like a very big burp for one so small. Having unwittingly done her a service, he smiled as he went on talking. “Well, you'll be a lot bigger next time. You'll be walking tall and talking big, just like your brother, Jody.” His smile faded as he stared out the window at the distant mountain peaks. “And you won't remember me.”

Amy came through the back door with a mighty, “Whew! Feels like I just ran the marathon.” Tate could hear “Outlaw, Jr.” clopping at her side across the kitchen floor. Amy looked surprised when she saw him in the living room with the baby. “Is she already hungry again?”

“No, but she was awake, and she's wantin' to tell the world hello, too, just like her mama.”

“I have to get active and get my strength back.” Her cheeks were rosy. From where Tate stood she was looking pretty bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and back in charge as she took the baby from him. “I'll make supper,” she said.

“Tired of my canned soup and cold meat sandwiches?”

“I know you guys are ready for a change. Chicken and dumplings?” A pint-size lasso loop landed over the back of a chair. “Jody, I asked you not to do that in the house. Maybe Tate could give you a bike-riding lesson while I make supper?”

“We could play with the baby while you cook,” Tate suggested.

“She doesn't know how to play.” She rocked the baby in the crook of her arm. “And anyway, she's almost asleep.”

“C'mon, partner.” Disgusted, Tate reached for his jacket. “We're gettin' kicked out of the kitchen.”

“It'll be worth your while, I promise.”

Yeah, right. Tate left the house feeling as peevish as a wet cat. Jody followed at his heels in the same mood. He kicked a tire on his bicycle as he passed it in the yard. Tate turned, one eyebrow cocked solicitously.

“I don't wanna ride that ol' bike.” Jody pouted. “I like to ride horses. When I get big, I'm gonna have a real horse, but I won't fall off, and I won't get killed. I'm gonna be a cowboy, like you.”

“What should we do with this?” Tate's nod indicated the bike.

“Put it in the shed.”

“Good idea.” He lifted the offending toy by its handlebars, and they headed for the shed together. “Out of your mother's sight, out of her mind, huh?”

“She just came out here and petted that ewe that's limping around, and then she went back to that baby.”

“Uh-oh.” Tate remembered what it was like to be upstaged by an attention-grabbing new baby. “How do you like the new baby, Jody?”

“She doesn't
do
nuthin'. She just cries and smells funny.” Jody kicked at the gravel in his path. “I told you a brother would be better than a sister. I wanted a baby brother.”

“And I told you, they're both the same at first. They don't do much. Karen couldn't go out to the corral with me and help me feed Outlaw.”

“I could!”

“And since she can't even sit up yet, I couldn't put her up on Outlaw's back and lead her around.”

“You could do that with me. I can sit up.” His feet suddenly stopped dragging.

By the time they'd reached the shed, Tate wondered whether Jody had springs on the bottoms of his tennis shoes. “That's just what I was thinkin'. The thing is, we might not wanna mention it to your mom.” He spared the boy a warning glance as he turned the handle on the door. “I mean, unless she asks. Then we'd have to 'fess up.”

“What does
'fess up
mean?”

“Means a cowboy tells the truth when his mom puts a question to him. It's part of the code.”

“What's a code?”

 

He didn't mind Jody's questions. He took a shot at answering every one. Too many of his own questions had been ignored when he was a kid, and he'd been looking for answers ever since. He'd found a few, but he was still looking for the big ones. Fortunately, either Jody hadn't thought up the big questions, or he'd decided to break Tate in easy. Baby girls were easily explained. Women were something else.

At bedtime Amy read Jody two extra stories, sticking with
it until he fell asleep. When she returned to her room, she was surprised to find Tate sitting on the bed with Karen. Wonder of wonders, he was putting on a clean diaper. Amy tried to remember the last time she'd seen a man voluntarily tend to that particular chore.

“I was eavesdropping on the stories again,” he admitted. “Jody says he wants to be a cowboy, and when he follows me out to the pickup, he tries to take steps as big as mine.” Intent on his job, he didn't look up until he'd finished carefully fastening the second pin. “But he's not quite done being your first baby.”

“I'm afraid he's going to grow up faster than either of us really wants him to.”

“Either of
us?
”

“Either him or me.” She couldn't help smiling. “I never thought I'd see Tate Harrison change a baby's diaper.”

“Nothin' to it. Right, Karen?” He slid both hands under the baby and lifted her to his shoulder. “Only one thing ol' Tate can't do for you, and that's feed you. That's up to Mom, whose—” his eyes danced mischievously as he glanced at Amy “—jugs appear to be getting smaller, so I'd say you'd better get while the gettin's still good.”