Free A Cowboy Unmatched by Karen Witemeyer

made a tsk ing sound. “That will change. Just wait till I teach you to fish, and swim, and splash through mud puddles. You’ll love the water then. You can catch tadpoles, skip stones, all kinds of fun things. You’ll see.”
    Clara’s heart twisted. He spoke to her son just like a father would. A true father. Not just a nice man who wanted to help out. If she gave him the chance, would he come to think of her as a husband would a wife, not just someone in need of protection? Could he look past her Comanche blood and see her as a woman? A woman worthy of his love?
    Neill finished bathing Harrison, then wrapped him in a towel and snuggled him close to his chest. He pushed to his feet and paced the floor, bouncing Harrison in gentle motions until the baby settled. Clara couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the sight. There was something about seeing a man—a well-muscled, hard-working man—cradling an infant tenderly to his chest that turned her insides to mush and made her heart long for the impossible.
    â€œDo you have a gown for him?” Neill’s question snapped her out of her musing.
    She nodded quickly and motioned for him to bring her son to the bed. “I rolled it inside the blanket.” She grabbed the bundle from her bedside table and unfurled it. “Lay him here,” she instructed, “and I’ll dress him.”
    Neill sat on the edge of the bed and handed Harrison back into her care. He offered the babe his finger to clasp while she fastened a diaper into place, then pulled free of the baby’s hold when she slipped the white gown over Harrison’s head and threaded his arms through the sleeves. After tugging the long skirt of the garment overher son’s bent legs, she swaddled him in the soft flannel blanket and cuddled him near her heart. When Harrison ceased his fretting and relaxed against her, it dawned on her how quiet Neill had become. Eerily quiet.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    His gaze lifted from the babe to her face, his expression grim. “I spotted a man in the yard—one of Mack’s men, I assume. He rode off before I could stop him.”
    A great weight pressed in on Clara’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. Neill lifted his hand and fingered a tendril of her hair before pushing it over her ear. The soft touch comforted, even as the news filled her with dread. Her father-in-law was probably hearing the report of Harrison’s birth this very moment.
    â€œWe have to leave, Clara. By first light. I have to get you to my brother’s ranch before Mack catches up to us, which means we’ve got to get to Amarillo before he realizes you’ve gone. It’s the only way to ensure he doesn’t try to force the matter. He can’t threaten you if he can’t find you.” His voice echoed with gentleness and regret, yet she recognized the steel behind the softness and was grateful for it. His conviction gave her courage. Hope.
    â€œBring me the baby crate,” she instructed, willing her weariness away. “I’ll put Harrison down and see to the packing.”
    Neill laid a staying hand on her shoulder. “Not yet. I’ve got extra water heating for your bath. All I want you to do is see to yourself. I’ll take care of everything else.”
    And he did. He filled a tub with gloriously warm bathwater, settled Harrison in his crate-bed, and then left her to her privacy while he packed up his belongings, whatever food he could stuff into a burlap sack, and all the shotgun shells he could find to accompany the only additional weapon at their disposal. She saw the evidence of his industriousness when he carried her to the parlor and laid her on the settee. The daft man insisted she not wear herself out with walking and instead carted her around like an invalid.
    Although, truth be told, she was as weak as a newborn kitten after pulling herself out of that tub and dressing. Still, it was