A Bride for the Ranch Hand: Western Destinies, #4

1

Sophia Carter looked up as her miniature charge—a short, plump two-and-a-half-year-old baby boy named Felix—came stumbling toward her. He had learned to walk a long time ago but often got ahead of himself and went a little too fast, resulting in a comical display as he hurried to get his balance.

Whoa, whoa, whoa there, she said with a laugh, putting out one hand. It wouldn’t have hurt if he had fallen at that moment. He might have fallen on her, but that would have been fine. If he’d hit the floor, he still would have been cushioned by the thick rug his father had put in the nursery just for this very purpose. The first bruise on his firstborn, Peter’s, head and the rug had appeared the next day.

Sophia worked as a nanny and caretaker for Peter, who was affectionately referred to as Muddy, and Felix, and their eleven-month-old brother Collin. They were the children of her employers, Dylan and Mattie Sullivan. Dylan was the silent partner of Luke Turner, who ran the magazine that had brought Sophia to Bighorn, Texas, in the first place.

Sophia’s journey to Bighorn had been tumultuous enough that anyone else might have fled the growing city in late 1875. But Sophia was resilient, independent, and a free-thinking woman. She believed that her troubles had made her a stronger woman. She had done what she thought was right to her own detriment on a few occasions, but all had worked out in the end.

She had found steady employment with a delightful couple and was still in contact with the woman she previously worked for, Lydia Green Brinkman. Now the sheriff’s wife for several years, Lydia was still her good friend. Bighorn was a large city of ten thousand people, but Lydia still managed to find time to seek out Sophia and take her for ice cream on a hot summer’s day.

Felix fell into Sophia, who laughed in delight and tickled the boy. He spun around, laughing. He was quickly more aggressive than Sophia could handle, and she gave him a good grip, a signal to calm down.

Felix instantly relaxed and played dead on her lap.

Oh, dear, Sophia said in a serious tone, staring down at Felix’s limp body in case he was watching through slitted lids. I do believe I have killed him. His father will not be a happy man. She poked him lightly in his exposed tummy. He reacted slightly, but they both pretended he hadn’t.

Hello? she asked, poking him again, this time in one shoulder. He managed to keep his face blank. She hesitated to build suspense and then began poking him all over. Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up… she repeated the phrase with each poke, laughing when he screamed, twisted, and scrambled away from her. His laughter rang through the room, drawing the attention of the baby, who was lying on the rug near Sophia, staring at a soft shapeless star his mother had sewn together for him. It was a bright color of yellow, but the baby had been chewing on it, and his new teeth had pulled out a stitch. The insides were slowly coming out. Sophia had taken the star from him several times, but Muddy kept giving it back to him.

With one hand on Felix, pretending to grab at his legs as he made his way away from her, she took the ripped star from the baby with the other.

How did you get that again? she asked in a curious voice. Every time I turn around, you have this. I understand you want me to fix it, but I wish you would find another way of reminding me. You’re going to choke on these little pieces, now, aren’t you? She held up some of the insides that had come out of the little star pillow.

All right, all right, she murmured. I’ll sew it together for you.

Sophia, Felix cried out her name as if she said she was leaving forever. Sophia.

Sophia loved the way he dropped the f sound in her name and used a p instead. It was adorable.

I’m not leaving you, Felix, Sophia said with a laugh, pushing against the child, who was now clinging to her leg. All right, just come with me, then.

She walked with the little boy clinging to one leg, swinging him dramatically, which made him cry out with delight. She went to the cupboard by the large window and pulled open the door. The shelves were lined with different repair tools, a small sewing kit being one of them. She took the kit off the shelf and closed the door.

As soon as it swung shut, her eyes went out the window beyond it to the front courtyard in front of the large mansion. Mattie and Dylan Sullivan lived in one wing of the tremendously large house owned by Mattie’s father, the judge. The buggy carrying Mattie, Dylan, and their four-year-old, was returning from the doctor's visit.

They might soon know if there was anything wrong with Muddy, who had been feeling strange recently. His parents, and Sophia, and the other nanny who cared for the children, a capable and sweet young woman named Lucy Caldwell, had not been able to ascertain what it was exactly that had the child behaving the way he was.

Sophia and Mattie had discussed his behavior several times. They had agreed that it was probably something Dr. Farnsworth wouldn’t be able to diagnose. It wasn’t an illness in his body. It was in his mind. It was affecting his judgment, perception, and learning.

He was exceptionally smart for his age, a character even at nearly five, as he’d been saying since a week after he’d turned four.

Sophia was glad to see them returning. Her heart sped up just a little, anxious to know what Dr. Farnsworth had recommended.

2

Owen Bell stepped out of the mansion and looked out at the horizon. It was clear. No sign that there was any weather coming.

Despite the visual reassurance, Owen knew the almanac wasn’t wrong. It had been right about every other major storm that had hit Bighorn for the last five years. He’d recorded it himself, keeping track of his almanacs and never throwing them away so he could track the patterns and do his own calculations where the weather was concerned.

It was important to him in his line of business. He had to make sure all the animals in his care were taken in if a storm was coming. He warned the people he worked for and battened down the hatches.

Owen had spent the last twenty-nine years of his life working for wealthy ranch owners, making sure the property was safe and well maintained. He got rid of poachers with the same enthusiasm as he milked the cows if he happened to be on a farm.

He’d spent the last six months working for Judge Carter Holbrook at his mansion. Most of his work had been on the outside, but every now and then, he went inside to do repairs on broken doors or stairs or after a bizarre accident that left something broken.

He’d seen a very pretty maid that first day, dark hair, bright eyes the color of teal, like the sea, sharp as could be. He could tell she had a brain in that head of hers. He never said anything to her. He just admired her from afar.

It wasn’t because Owen wasn’t confident in himself. He was, in fact, one of the most confident people he knew. And he made sure to keep his ego in check so that others around him didn’t take him for an arrogant man. There was a difference, and he strove to make people understand that.

He shaded his eyes when turning his head, as the afternoon sun was dipping slightly into the west, indicating it was about two in the afternoon. Owen looked up and around, back and forth, and thought to himself, It’s two seventeen.

Quickly, he whipped out his watch and tapped the button to expose the face. The second hand had just tipped over the sixty-second mark, making it exactly two-seventeen in the afternoon.

Pride filled Owen, and he grinned mischievously.

What are you doing?

The sound of his boss’s confused voice rang through his ears, and he slid his pocket watch away with a slip of his fingers.

Sorry, boss, he said hurriedly. Was just checking the time.

The friendly smile on Dylan’s face put Owen back at ease. His shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t normally tense around Dylan or the judge, but he didn’t like to give the impression he was standing around wasting time. To Owen, time was the most precious thing there was. Next to air. If either of those ran out, life was over.

He pointed toward the horizon.

I know you want to have this party outside, boss, he remarked, jumping right into business, but I’m telling you a storm is coming from down that way, and we’ve got to take precautions.

Dylan had heard this before. When he’d brought up the party to the staff and given a date for when it would be held, Owen had checked his almanac, as usual, to see what the weather would be like that day. He was in charge of the outdoor construction of the party, as far as tables and chairs and design were concerned. It was Dylan’s wife, the lady of the mansion, Mrs. Sullivan, who had creative control of what the party would look like. But it was up to Owen to put it together for her.

He was given a crew of men to create whatever the woman had on her mind.

Owen, you know how I feel about that. We have to have it outside.

Owen didn’t want to argue with his boss. The almanac was right, and the storm was coming. He was sure of that.

But Dylan and Mattie were putting on an elaborate birthday party for their almost five son, Peter, whom everyone called Muddy. Muddy was well-spoken for an almost five-year-old. But despite the intelligence he seemed to have, he made terrible decisions. He had nearly died several times already from going places he knew he was not allowed, nearly being trampled by a bull. He’d even fallen down several holes, requiring great skill and good fortune to get him out.

They had taken him to the doctor that morning, but Owen didn’t feel it was his place to ask for the results of the tests. He would find out through the murmurings of the staff anyway. If he thought it was appropriate, he would ask Sophia, the beautiful nanny,

Owen was a confident man, but Sophia stripped him of that confidence. He didn’t know if he would ever have the nerve to speak to her. Not about anything in-depth, anyway.

The party was for Muddy. Because he was a beloved child, Owen understood that. But as beloved as the child was, the storm would not be stopped.

I think it would be a good idea to have a backup plan. That’s all I’m saying, Owen continued. We can make sure one of the rooms is available for dancing, and we’ll have decorations ready, and all the fun and games can be moved inside. I think that’s a good idea, don’t you?

Dylan looked thoughtful, if not a little skeptical.

Muddy really wants the party to be outside, he said. Owen was taken aback by how wounded the man sounded. It was as if the man felt he would be hurting his child if he didn’t do what Muddy requested.

Owen’s heartstrings were pulled. I’ll simply make a layout, sir. I’ll have the men ready just in case. We have another few days to worry about it, right?

Maybe your almanac will be wrong this year. Even