Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,13
dark of night, he felt sorrow and sympathy for a child that had lost his mother. It was a terrible thing to lose a parent. Billy had been just three when his dad and his uncle Samuel were killed in the accident on the way to the rodeo in Deadwood. Billy didn’t remember his dad, but there had been plenty of photos to show him who his dad had been, as well as how much his dad had loved his boys.
Was Beck his boy?
Billy struggled to wrap his mind around the possibility. Parenthood had been the last thing on his mind. He wasn’t interested in marriage, had no desire to settle down, and children weren’t part of the plan—maybe ever. If he did have kids, he’d known it would be years from now, when he’d gotten the hunger for competition out of his blood. But that wasn’t now. He loved everything about being a professional cowboy, loved all of it—the travel, the events, the time with his brothers, as well as the evenings with the pretty women who lined up for a dance, or a kiss, or more.
April had been one of those. She was fun, flirty, playful in bed. But she’d never be the one, and he’d never made bones about the fact that he wasn’t looking for more than a good time. It sounded crass, put that way, but it was the truth, and he was nothing but honest with the women he got naked with.
Could their crazy nights have created Beck?
And if so, why hadn’t April reached out to him?
Why not let Billy know he had a kid?
Regardless, a baby was wailing away down in the kitchen and Billy wasn’t going to be able to sleep now. He eased from bed, dressed warmly, and headed downstairs.
The kitchen was dark, with just the light on over the stove to illuminate the space. Billy spotted Erika near the door in the mudroom, facing the coatrack and swaying side to side, her hand slowly rubbing the baby’s small back. He watched her a long moment, thinking she looked impossibly tired. He could feel her exhaustion from across the room.
“How long have you been up?” he asked quietly, not wanting to startle her.
She turned quickly, startled anyway. “Did his crying wake you?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I came down here so we wouldn’t wake your mom or grandfather.”
“That was thoughtful of you.”
“But you’re awake.”
“It’s okay. I’m a fairly light sleeper,” he answered, crossing the kitchen floor. “But don’t worry about Tommy. He sleeps like the dead.”
“Do you know what time it is? I left my watch upstairs.”
“Three thirty, maybe.”
“I can’t get him to stop crying.”
“Does he have a fever?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe he’s just overstimulated. It was a big day.”
“All those Wyatts are enough to terrify even the most manly of men.” Billy smiled crookedly. “Let me take him, and you go back to bed.” He’d reached her side and lifted the baby from her arms without waiting for her to answer.
Erika didn’t protest. If anything, she looked grateful. “Normally, I’d ask if you were sure, but I’m so tired. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
“Then don’t. Go to bed. Get sleep. I’ve got him.”
Uncertainty flickered over her features. “Do you know anything about babies?”
“No, but I’ve delivered foals and calves, and given nearly every animal a bottle, from kittens to lambs and even a fawn Granddad found after his mom had been shot by hunters trespassing on our property.”
Her fist pressed to her mouth. “What happened to the fawn?”
“We raised him until he could manage on his own.”
“Did he?” she asked. “Manage on his own?”
“We think he’s the big buck that comes around sometimes, and stands at the edge of the property looking at us. We’ve gotten close to him a couple of times, but then he leaves. I’m pretty sure that’s Rudy.”
“Rudy?”
“As in Rudolph. Tommy named him.”
The corner of her mouth curved as she gave him a sweet sleepy smile. “I have a feeling you guys are full of stories.”
“So many,” he agreed. “Too many. But now, go sleep. And you don’t have to worry about Beck and me. I can manage giving a baby a bottle, and if I need you, I will get you.”
“I’ve made a bottle up for him already. It’s on the counter by the stove, but Beck didn’t want it. He’s just cranky tonight. Sometimes I wonder if he’s missing his mom.” Her voice cracked. “And then I want to cry.”