The Cowboy's Baby Bond Read online

  An Honorable Cowboy

  Determined single mother Willow Reames has one goal: to reunite with her sisters and begin a new life with them and her infant son. But when she’s unexpectedly stranded in the Montana wilderness—with her siblings nowhere in sight—she needs to rely on the kindness of Johnny Harding.

  It’s more than honor that compels the half Native American cowboy to help the beautiful widow and her adorable baby. The little family evokes his masculine instincts to protect them. Soon woman-wary Johnny is cradling baby Adam in his arms and offering to assist Willow in finding her missing sisters. As their hearts slowly thaw, can Johnny convince Willow to trust him with the secret she’s keeping so, just maybe, they can have a future together?

  Montana Cowboys: These brothers live and love by the code of the West

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m not letting you ride all over the country by yourself, that’s for certain sure,” Johnny replied.

  “You have a cabin to fix.”

  “You have sisters to find. That outweighs a cabin.”

  “You don’t need to do this.”

  Johnny flicked the reins and they drove away from the station. “I do need to if I want to be able to live with myself.”

  “That’s an odd thing to say.”

  He spared Willow a brief glance full of challenge and stubbornness. “I don’t know what kind of men you’ve known in the past, but some of us live by principles, and my principles will not allow me to let a young woman and a baby travel unescorted across Montana.”

  She opened her mouth, but could think of no reply, and snapped it shut.

  A man with principles? She liked the sound of that. But it didn’t change her plans. Nor her vow to never again trust any man, because, to her sorrow, she knew words came easily.

  Noble talk without noble actions was, in her mind, the worst sort of deceit.

  Linda Ford lives on a ranch in Alberta, Canada, near enough to the Rocky Mountains that she can enjoy them on a daily basis. She and her husband raised fourteen children—four homemade, ten adopted. She currently shares her home and life with her husband, a grown son, a live-in paraplegic client and a continual (and welcome) stream of kids, kids-in-law, grandkids, and assorted friends and relatives.

  Books by Linda Ford

  Love Inspired Historical

  Montana Cowboys

  The Cowboy’s Ready-Made Family

  The Cowboy’s Baby Bond

  Christmas in Eden Valley

  A Daddy for Christmas

  A Baby for Christmas

  A Home for Christmas

  Journey West

  Wagon Train Reunion

  Montana Marriages

  Big Sky Cowboy

  Big Sky Daddy

  Big Sky Homecoming

  Cowboys of Eden Valley

  The Cowboy’s Surprise Bride

  The Cowboy’s Unexpected Family

  The Cowboy’s Convenient Proposal

  Claiming the Cowboy’s Heart

  Winning Over the Wrangler

  Falling for the Rancher Father

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  LINDA FORD

  The Cowboy’s Baby Bond

  The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.

  —Zephaniah 3:17

  Dedicated to the memory of my grandson, Julien Yake, who passed away July 2015 at age nineteen; and to his mother who will forever mourn him.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Mail Order Mix-Up by Christine Johnson

  Chapter One

  Summer 1899

  Near Granite Creek, Montana

  Johnny Harding’s nerves twitched at the sharp, penetrating sound, like the wail of a cat. He pulled on the reins of his horse and reached for the rifle he always carried with him, as did almost every man in the rugged northwest part of Montana Territory. He scanned his surroundings for the source of the sound.

  A wagon stood in the shadow of the trees to his left, far enough away he couldn’t make out the occupants, but from the list of the wagon, he suspected they might be needing assistance. A man simply did not ride by anyone in trouble out here where help was miles away, though Johnny wasn’t about to heedlessly ride into a trap, either. His fingers remained on the rifle as he approached the wagon.

  A woman sat on the bench. He did a quick assessment of her. Dark brown hair, medium skin tone, dark brown eyes that seemed to hold a world of regret. She clutched a bundle of blanket in one arm. The sound seemed to come from that area. A baby, no doubt. An unhappy baby.

  The wagon was piled with belongings—boxes and crates and a mattress tied on the top. Canvas partially covered the contents.

  He slowed, waiting for the husband to make himself known. Slowly, Johnny eased the rifle to his knee, his finger resting on the trigger. His nerves tensed and he squinted into the trees, half expecting a man to jump out and demand his money and valuables.

  He snorted. His saddlebags held nails and carpentry tools that he intended to use to fix up the Hamilton cabin. Hardly worth shooting a man for.

  “Hello,” he called. “Looks like you could use some help.”

  The woman turned to him. Emotions raced across her face—surprise, followed by welcome, and as quickly replaced with a fierce look. She didn’t answer.

  “Are you in need of assistance?”

  The woman glanced about. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  Johnny edged closer, once again eyeing the trees, then darting his attention back to the wagon, alert for someone to leap from the box. He’d ride away, but until he knew the people could proceed, his conscience dictated he investigate further. “Ma’am, do you need help?” he repeated, now close enough to see the worry in her dark eyes and the fever-stained cheeks of the baby in her arms, whose cry threatened to pierce his eardrums. “Where’s your husband?” He spoke loudly to be heard above the infant’s cries.

  She looked at him, eyes barely registering his presence. “He’s gone.”

  “He left you here?” Johnny’s words carried enough anger for her to blink and look at him as if finally realizing he was there.

  “He’s dead.”

  Dead? The word speared through Johnny’s thoughts. When? Had the man died of whatever made the baby ill? “Is he there?” He indicated the wagon box behind her.

  She shook her head. “It’s just me, my son and my gun.” She lifted a corner of the baby’s blanket and Johnny saw a revolver aimed at him.

  His hand remained on the rifle
as he judged how fast he could duck away. Probably not fast enough. He couldn’t believe she traveled alone in this unsettled area. “I mean you no harm. When I saw the wagon I thought you might be needing assistance.”

  Their gazes caught and held, his unblinking as he tried to let her know she had nothing to fear from him.

  The woman sighed and lowered the gun to her lap, ready should she need it again, but not a present threat. “My baby is sick.” She rocked vigorously, which did nothing to ease the plaintive cries. Perhaps it made her feel better. Johnny couldn’t say, having never had anything to do with a human baby. She hadn’t come right out and said she needed help, but it wasn’t necessary. Her predicament could be seen by anyone with eyes in his head.

  “How about I fix the wheel and take you to the Sundown Ranch? It’s just a few miles that away.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “My stepmother, Maisie Harding, is good at taking care of sick people. Maybe you’ve heard of her.”

  The woman shook her head. “If you would point me in the right direction...”

  He sidestepped his big gray gelding, aptly named Gray, alongside the wagon and swung down to examine the wheel. Sensing the woman’s tension, and mindful of the gun in her lap, he talked as he looked things over, hoping it would assure her of his noble intentions. “Ma’am, I’m Johnny Harding. My pa, Big Sam Harding, is well-known hereabouts.” He glanced in her direction to see if she showed any sign of acknowledgment. Nope. Nothing. Just the barest glance before she turned her attention back to the baby, whose cries had subsided to whimpers. Thinking that wasn’t a good sign, Johnny quickly tightened the hub on the wheel. “That will hold you until you get to the ranch. Then I’ll fix it good and proper.”

  He tied Gray to the back of the wagon and headed for the front. He’d see this woman and her child safely to the ranch and then he’d get on with his own plans.

  His friend Thad Hamilton would soon arrive and Johnny had promised to have the cabin repaired by then. It would have been done already except he’d had to order in a few supplies, delaying his work. That left him little time to fulfill his part of their bargain. And he didn’t mean to do anything to discourage Thad and make him change his mind. Thad had left a broken man, besieged by the death of his sister. Coming back signaled he meant to get on with life.

  Johnny paused as he neared the bench. The gun glistened in the sun.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to climb up there and sit beside you. Don’t shoot me, okay?”

  She gave him a steely look, then tipped her head ever so slightly.

  She hadn’t spoken a word, but her warning rang inside his head as if she’d announced it with noisy church bells. She would shoot him in an instant should he try anything other than driving.

  He eased onto the wagon seat beside her and took up the reins. “What’s wrong with the little one?”

  “Besides he’s sick?”

  Her answer amused Johnny, but he didn’t know if it was safe to laugh, so he simply quirked his eyebrows. “Just wondering if you know. Like maybe he’s teething...” He’d heard that mentioned as a cause of fussiness in a baby, but didn’t have any idea if it was that. “Or is he getting the measles or something...?” His voice trailed off.

  “Measles? You think it’s measles?” She jerked the blanket down and pulled up a tiny shirt. He guessed the little one was about old enough to be walking on his own, but at the moment he seemed too tired to move. “Do you see a rash?”

  “No, ma’am.” What he saw was a baby hanging limply in her arms, too weak to hold his head up. “What’s his name?”

  “This is Adam.”

  “Solid name.”

  “First man. Figured the name might let my boy know he could start with a clean slate, just like Eve’s Adam.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Adam.” Johnny touched the bare little knee and drew back to stare. “He’s so soft.”

  She chuckled. “Babies are soft, aren’t they?”

  “He’s the first one I ever touched.”

  “That’s sad.”

  He nodded. He might have had a baby of his own by now if things had gone according to his plan. In hindsight, he counted himself fortunate he didn’t. Trudy Dingman had never loved him. She’d only used him when she discovered herself in the family way from another man, who had disappeared. Not that she’d had the courtesy to tell Johnny about the baby she carried. When the man responsible showed up again, after Johnny and Trudy were engaged to be married, Trudy had run off with him. Johnny didn’t know why until a friend informed him of Trudy’s condition. It hurt to know he was only second best. But to know the woman he’d loved hadn’t been truthful, hadn’t trusted him, had scalded him clear through. In his opinion, without truth and trust, love could not exist.

  “Ma’am, perhaps you could introduce yourself.”

  “I suppose I should. Mrs. Willow Reames.”

  “Sorry about your husband.”

  She nodded, but her attention remained on the baby, who seemed to grow weaker by the moment. “How far is it to this ranch you told me about?”

  “Sundown Ranch. We’ve about half an hour to go.” He wasn’t much for conversation, but had a few questions demanding to be asked. Mindful of the gun, he approached them carefully. “Where you coming from?”

  “Wolf Hollow.”

  He stared at the woman. “Wolf Hollow is three, four days ride from here. You came on your own?”

  She met his look with a tipped-up chin and flashing eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself and my son. Have been doing so since my husband died.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Three months.” Her gaze bored into Johnny’s.

  He had no idea how to respond to her words or the silent challenge of her look. “That’s not long.”

  “Long enough.”

  Long enough for what? To forget the man’s death? To prepare for this trip? Neither made a speck of sense.

  “Adam is getting worse. Can we go faster?”

  Johnny urged the old mare into a trot, but she’d been on the road at least three days already and looked about spent. It crossed his mind to wonder how hard Mrs. Reames had pushed the animal.

  “Ma’am, would you mind telling me where you’re headed?”

  “Not at all. I’m on my way to Granite Creek. My sisters are due to arrive on the next train.”

  “That’s tomorrow.”

  “I had hoped to get there in time to find a house and get it ready for us to live in.” She made comforting noises and rocked Adam. “But first, I need to take care of my son. Shush, sweetie. Mama’s right here.” She began to croon a lullaby.

  Adam opened his eyes and stared into his mama’s face with so much faith and love that Johnny’s throat tightened.

  That was the look of trust.

  He’d thought he’d seen that in Trudy’s eyes, but all he’d really seen were lies and deceit. His good friend Thad shared a similar experience, which, added to his sister’s death, had sent the man to a dark place in his mind.

  It appeared far too many woman considered this normal behavior.

  It had been a hard lesson, but one Johnny didn’t intend to repeat. He’d vowed to never again give his heart to a woman. Nope. Ranch work, his pa and stepmother, his brothers and now Tanner’s wife and kids were enough family for him.

  Yet his attention went again to the little boy and that look of pure, simple faith in his mother’s ability to keep him safe.

  It made Johnny determined to get them both to the ranch as quickly as possible. He flicked the reins and the horse picked up the pace. He glanced back at the wheel he’d adjusted and hoped it would hold until they reached the ranch.

  He meant to do everything in his power to see the trust in that little boy’s eyes rewarded.

 
* * *

  Willow took comfort in the weight of the pistol in her lap. She knew how to shoot, but the idea of sending a bullet into a man made her blood run cold. Though not as cold as the fear that had mounted with each passing hour since Adam had grown fussy last night. At first, she thought he was simply tired of the journey, but during the restless night, he’d developed a fever.

  Her sense of triumph over leaving Wolf Hollow and its bitter memories had been replaced with worry over her son. Not that she regretted shaking the dust of that wild town off her shoes. Nor had her anticipation at seeing her sisters for the first time in a year and a half diminished.

  But all that paled in comparison to getting someplace where she could tend her son.

  She darted a look at the man beside her. Dark complexion, dark eyes and dark hair beneath a gray cowboy hat. Who was he and what had he been about before he noticed her predicament? Johnny Harding, he’d said. She might have heard the Harding name before but wasn’t certain. Mostly she’d kept to herself, tending Adam and trying to avoid Bertie, the man she’d been forced to marry. Forced was not exactly accurate. She’d agreed to marry him in order to ensure her younger sisters would have a home and her son would have a name. Under the agreement she’d made with Bertie’s father, in exchange she took on the responsibility of keeping Bertie on the straight and narrow. She’d soon discovered the futility of even trying.

  She’d endured a steady barrage of insults from Bertie, who lamented the injustice of having to marry her in order for his father to finance his trip to the wilds of northwest Montana. Still, Willow would do the same again to help her sisters and her son.

  Bertie’s death in a drunken brawl had freed her and left her with a nice bundle of gold dust that she meant to use to provide a home for her son and her sisters. She’d sent tickets to get her sisters to Granite Creek, the closest railway stop, where she meant to join them and start a new life.

  This was Thursday. She’d hoped to be in Granite Creek by now, but had to travel slower than she planned as Adam grew restless and irritable. Poor baby.