In His Will (16 page)

Teresa laid the baby on the foot of the bed and sat next to him. “That could have been dangerous. I’ll stay during the days for a week or two to help out.”

Sondra took in a long, deep, choppy breath. Dylan watched as she blinked back tears. She nodded, though. “I’ll keep Sondra company while you finish breakfast,” he offered. “She needs some chow.”

“I’m supposed to walk. I was going out to the kitchen.”

Dylan scooted Matt across the bed and lifted him. Cradling him to his chest, he tried not to sound too bossy. If he started ordering Sondra from the get-go, she’d dig in her heels. “Walking’s a good idea, but until you’re not so shaky, Teresa or I will stay alongside you—like just now. Come Friday or so, you’ll likely be able to tote PeeWee with you. Until then, what say you let us carry him, or you stick him in the bassinet and push it along like you did in the hospital? In a few weeks, you’ll be a sassy ball of fire again.”

“A few weeks!”

He toggled Matt back and forth a tiny bit. “Tell your mama to stop fussing.”

For having ordered Sondra not to fuss about things, Dylan managed to do just that himself. He fretted all morning as he did his chores. There was a lot to occupy him, but he kept watch on the house. He normally wore a cell phone, and he’d checked the battery three times today, just to be sure it was fully charged. If Teresa needed help with Sondra or the baby, she could reach him in an instant.

He shook his head. Sondra likely felt hovered over. Still, the woman cherished the notion that she was capable enough to face everything on her own. Any reminders or hints to the contrary would get her back up.

Howie strode by and gave him a curt nod.
Nickels leaned against a split rail fence, checking the frayed ends of a rope. He gave Dylan a cocky grin, then drawled, “Gonna get a terminal case of whiplash, looking back at the house.”

Why deny it? I’m head over heels for Sondra, and little Matt’s the cuddliest baby a man ever hitched over his shoulder.
He let out a self-conscious chuckle. “Caught red-handed.”

“Some things are worth catching and holding.”

Dylan bent over and plucked a weed from the ground with studied nonchalance. “Teresa’s spending days with Sondra to help with the baby. I’ll be taking night duty.”

“Boss, ain’t a man on the spread who’s gonna bat an eye over that. She needs lookin’ after. Onliest one who’s gonna kick up a fuss is her.” He chortled softly. “When she’s upset, she tosses pies. I reckon that ain’t much of a deterrent to your plans.”

By midday, Dylan couldn’t take it anymore. He used the excuse of being nearby to invite himself in for lunch. “What are you doing?” He gawked at Sondra as she sat on the couch, fully dressed except for shoes.

She looked at him with slumberous eyes. “I had lunch.”

“Dressed in your work clothes?” He scowled at Teresa. “What got into her?”

Teresa sighed. “She took a notion that she was going to go out to the coop and make sure the chickens got enough feed and water.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Teresa shrugged. “I promised I’d see to it and convinced her to take a pain pill, so she’ll nap for a while. Tuck her in bed, Dylan. She’s too tired to pester. I’ll get the baby.”

“Sondra.” He leaned down and burrowed his hands beneath her.

She tilted her head and rested it on his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Settle down,” he demanded as he lifted her. “No more cockeyed plans to traipse outside to do chores.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and actually snuggled closer.

Dylan already had a secure hold of her, but he curled her closer to his heart. His concern for her mingled with astonishment—not that he minded in the least, but she’d always been circumspect. His surprise must have shown, because Teresa gave him a nudge to set him into motion.

Dylan put Sondra to bed. Loath to break contact with her, he traced a rough fingertip down her nose. “Aren’t you going to tell me what’s going on?”

She blinked slowly and wet her lips. “There’s so much to do.”

“There’s no denying that, sweetheart—but all you need to do is sleep and feed PeeWee. I’ll handle the rest for a while.”

He’d started to tuck a wild strand of her hair behind her ear, and she turned to his touch. He froze for a moment at the feel of her soft cheek against the backs of his fingers, then rubbed his knuckles back and forth in a tender caress. She’d needed him during her labor; now she turned to him. The woman had a knack for finding his empty spots and filling them, for making him feel essential—not just for the chores he could shoulder, but because something about him made her feel safe and cared for.

Dangerous ground. Setting yourself up for a big letdown, cowboy. If she doesn’t cross the bridge from her past to your future, you’re going to get burned.

Sixteen

Late that evening, Sondra gingerly eased herself down into the rocking chair. Dylan scowled at her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look so red-hot.”

She slowly wiggled from side to side to ease her weight deeper into the chair. “It’s going to take time.” Just when she’d gotten settled, the baby whimpered.

Dylan hopped up and got the boy. He made a comical face. “Caution! Toxic waste on board. Detour to the changing table.”

Sondra manufactured a watery smile. It was downright funny seeing how Dylan handled the baby. “You’re in Oklahoma, boy. You’ll love the OSU Cowboys. Soon as you start talkin’, I’ll teach you to holler for the orange-and-white.” The patter went on, regardless of Matthew’s increasingly loud cry. It stopped as he presented a squalling, flannel-wrapped bundle to Sondra and announced, “He’s on empty. Fill up his tank.”

She accepted her son. “Thank you for everything, Dylan. As soon as things settle down, I’ll make you a nice supper.”

“Sounds to me like you need to be making
him
supper.”

“Unh-huh. Good night, Dylan.”

He sat down and gave her a mutinous look. “Good night? You think you’re dismissing me?” When she nodded, he shook his head. “Not a chance. I’m not budging. Whether you like it or not, I promised to help you for a year. That promise extends on to the baby. Teresa is spending days with you until you heal. I’m spending the nights.”

Sondra was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. “You’re spending the night? You can’t do that!”

“Just watch me.”

She looked down at her crying son and then back at him, then blurted, “I don’t want you to watch me!”

“Oh, stop fussing and feed the poor kid. You could’ve tossed a shawl or blanket over your shoulder and not shown a thing. It’s not like I’m some kind of pervert or Peeping Tom.” He heaved a longsuffering sigh and tromped out of the room.

Matthew snuggled close and nursed like a starving little piglet. He stopped crying, but Sondra started. She’d upset Dylan. She hurt. She was all alone, trying to rear a baby. Nothing was right. Tilting her head against the oak back of the rocker, she indulged in a fine fit of tears.

❧

A week later, Sondra walked across the living room and eased herself down onto a chair. “Dylan, I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated all of the help—”

“If this is your ‘I’m-fine-now’ speech, forget it. You’re nowhere near ready to handle things on your lonesome.”

“You can’t mean to stay here for another week!”

He plopped down on the sofa, put both stocking feet up on the coffee table, and gave her a mutinous look. “You still move like a rusty oil derrick and need the help. Now hush a minute. I want to hear the weather forecast.”

Hush?
He was telling her to hush in her own home and putting his big feet up on the coffee table as if he were king of the castle. Sondra did a slow burn. She was just about ready to give him a piece of her mind, but Matthew started to snuffle in the bassinet. Before she could even lean forward to get up, Dylan shot to his feet. He hurried to the baby and picked him up. For such a large man, he showed astonishing gentleness with Matt. Her gaze went from the man to the infant on his shoulder, then back again.

Dylan’s eyes were shadowed with weariness, but he’d never once complained. He worked far too much, minding both ranches. On top of that he was babysitting the two of them and got up at least twice a night to help out.

At the moment, he wrinkled his nose and chortled softly. “You smell like a loaf of garlic bread. Your mama must have eaten the leftover lasagna for lunch!”

“I did,” she confessed. “BobbyJo Lintz came over with her little boy. We shared it. Dylan, I can’t believe it. Her baby is nearly five months old, and Matt is almost as big as he is!”

“Matt’s gonna be a moose.” Dylan laid the subject of their conversation on the couch and quickly changed his diaper.

The cable channel started showing grain, feed, and beef prices. Sondra had been absorbed with being overdue and with taking care of Matt. For the first time in two months, she stared at the figures on the television. “Dylan, look at those figures.”

“I’ve been monitoring them.”

She gave him a stricken look. “I’d better go review the books. Those are drastically different. If feed goes up higher and beef prices drop more, we won’t turn enough of a profit!”

“Honey, the market fluctuates a lot. We’ll ride it out.”

“But this is Matt’s home. We can’t lose it.”

“God and I’ll get you through.”

She gave him a pained look. “Dylan, I trust you to do your best. It’s just that some things are beyond your control.”

“That’s why I gave God top billing. You’re going to have to exercise your faith.”

“Saying that is simple—doing it isn’t!”

“Fretting won’t change things.” He yawned. “If all else fails, Miller gave us an escape hatch. We could always get married.”

Sondra sucked in a sharp breath and stared down at Matt. By the time she gathered her scattered wits and found her voice, she rasped, “Dylan—”

She looked up and choked back a rueful laugh. Exhausted, Dylan had leaned back and fallen fast asleep.

❧

Over the next three months, the market bounced and plummeted almost as often as Sondra’s emotions. Dylan started spending the nights back at his own place, and she missed him terribly. Often, she invited him to stay for supper—he accepted, but almost as soon as he finished eating, he’d leave.

She longed for those quiet evenings they’d shared right after Matt was born and wondered if she’d done something to offend Dylan, but Teresa and Howie both commented on how Dylan was working hard to keep both spreads going. Sondra felt selfish for wanting more from him when he already gave so much.

Every Sunday, Dylan showed up in his truck, complimented her, and buckled the baby into the car seat. He drove them to church in her car—a committed act of a brother in Christ who wanted to help out. “Exercising faith,” he called it.

What should have been her first anniversary arrived the week before Thanksgiving. She sat at the graveside and nestled Matt to her bosom. Confusion filled her. She still missed Kenny and ached for the loss she and her son had suffered.

Still, there was a niggling guilt, because she longed to have someone. Her brief time with Kenny had opened her eyes to the wonders of love—not just the physical fulfillment but the comfort of sharing the simple things of life.

Dylan’s face flashed through her mind, but she shook her head. He’d already sacrificed too much for her. Oh, he did all of the ranch work, but even more—he’d eased her life and heart in countless ways. When their one-year partnership was over, she knew she was going to be bereft.
Lord, what am I to do? How will I survive that loss, too?

❧

The holidays arrived. Sondra went shopping and bought a calendar for the next year. She counted months since the beginning of May.
I’ve been here for seven months now, Jesus. There’s so much I don’t know still, and I don’t think I can learn it all fast enough. Please give me a chance, though. Let us do well enough this year so I can keep the ranch.

When she got to the gate of the Curly Q, Dylan met her. “Looks like you’re dressed warm enough. How ’bout PeeWee?”

“He’s all bundled up. Why?”

“ ’Cuz we’re going to go get his first tree.”

She and Kenny had tried to get a tree, but the smell of fresh pine made her so sick, they’d gone back home. Kenny stopped along the way to buy a home pregnancy test. The next morning, they’d confirmed she was carrying a child.

Unaware of her memories, Dylan unlatched Matthew’s car seat and transferred it to the jump seat of his pickup. “Do you have your heart set on anything particular?”

Sondra closed her eyes. “One that dusts the ceiling and is so wide, it fills the whole corner opposite the fireplace. No lights. Just ornaments.”

A rough finger tickled her cheek. “Sounds like you’ve been dreamin’ on this.”

She blinked and bobbed her head. “Twenty-five years. I’ve never bought a tree.”

He studied her for a moment and didn’t ask questions. She appreciated that to no end. Sondra didn’t want pity, and she’d blurted out her fantasy before realizing it would tattle about holidays best left forgotten.