The Cowboy's Baby Bond. Linda Ford

to make coffee, but there seemed no point in starting a fire. As Willow gathered the dinner things together to wash with water from the stream, the little boy tackled Johnny, making him chuckle.

      He caught Adam and swung him into the air, earning a rolling belly laugh.

      Willow stared at them, a tight look on her face.

      Johnny lowered Adam to the ground. “Will I hurt him, doing that?”

      She shook her head. “He loves it.”

      “Then what did I do to make you look at me that way?” Adam clung to his leg, getting a free ride as Johnny moved closer to Willow, wanting to read her eyes for a clue as to what worried her.

      She returned the dishes to the wagon, seeming to use it as an excuse to avoid looking at him again. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Can we resume our travels?”

      “I’ll get the horses.” He brought them back, hitched up the mare and tied Gray to the rear. Willow already sat on the bench, Adam perched on her knees. There was nothing to do but climb up beside her.

      They returned to the road and continued their journey, but the silence between them that had earlier been comfortable now crackled with tension.

      “Willow—”

      “Adam is ready for a nap.” She laid him on a quilt in the back and he fell asleep sucking two fingers.

      Johnny had no intention of spending the rest of the day with this strain between them. “Willow, I know I did something, or said something, that upset you. I’d apologize but I don’t know what I did. I think it fair that you explain it to me.”

      * * *

      Willow’s thoughts twisted and turned. Was there anything more hurtful than seeing a man like Johnny play with Adam? If only she could dream of someone like him. Her chest muscles clenched with a thousand painful regrets.

      “It’s nothing you did. Not really.”

      “There is no one else here to blame for the way you looked at me.”

      There’s me. But she wouldn’t tell him that, nor what she meant by the words. She would carry the blame the rest of her life. If only for her own sake, she wouldn’t care so much, but her mistakes would hurt Adam and perhaps her sisters. At least her marriage to Bertie had given Adam a name, though she wished it wasn’t Reames, one that carried too many regrets.

      Johnny continued to gaze at her, his dark eyes full of hurt and compassion. An odd mixture. Was it hurt on his own behalf and compassion for the hurt he might see in her?

      The thought compelled her to say more. “It’s just that seeing you play with Adam makes me realize all the things I can’t give him.”

      “I don’t understand.”

      Of course he didn’t, because she hadn’t explained it, nor did she plan to. “He will never know a father’s love.”

      Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “You are a fine-looking woman. There will be lots of suitors, I’m sure.”

      “Thanks.” She clasped her hands together to keep from tidying her hair. “But I will never remarry.” To do so meant telling the whole truth about her marriage to Bertie. It was too great a risk. How could she be certain a man wouldn’t look at Adam differently if he knew the facts? Bertie had despised the baby because of the circumstances of his birth. He’d had plenty of mocking, ugly words to describe her beautiful son.

      His comments to Willow had been cruel, as well. He’d accused her of being a loose woman, and every time she went out, he’d asked if she’d had a rendezvous with a lover. No, she would not subject either of them to such a life. “I will never marry again.” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud nor quite so vehemently.

      Johnny jerked about and faced forward.

      She stole a quick look at him, then studied her hands. “So you see, Adam will never know a father’s love.” Her words sounded weak even to herself, but she couldn’t explain she meant more than remarriage. Poor little Adam would never know love from Peter, who had outright rejected both of them. He’d never known it from Bertie. Wouldn’t even know it from Bertie’s father, whom everyone assumed was Adam’s grandfather.

      Johnny began to speak, so softly she had to lean closer to hear him. “That’s your grief talking. I saw the same thing with Thad. He couldn’t imagine life could go on. Couldn’t believe in dreams. Couldn’t make plans. But in time, grief loses its grip and it becomes possible to live again. To laugh. To plan.” Johnny turned to her. “Even to marry again.”

      He held her with his powerful gaze. She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t think. Words came to her mouth that she dare not speak, and yet they pushed at her lips as if they must be spoken. She pressed her collarbone as pain stabbed at her chest. She dare not confess the truth about Adam. For his sake she must never speak of it. With a great deal of effort she jerked away from Johnny’s gaze.

      If she ever married again it would not be for love. Love could not exist with secrets, and Adam’s parentage must remain a secret.

      “Remarriage is not for me and it has nothing to do with grief.” Little did Johnny know that she did not grieve Bertie’s death except for one fact. It had caused her sisters to lose their home, but only because Mr. Reames was so uncharitable and untrue to his word. He’d led her to believe the girls would be safe if she married Bertie, which she had done. His death was in no way her responsibility. She’d done her best to persuade him not to drink. He’d simply laughed in her face and told her she couldn’t make him do anything. Sadly, it was true.

      Johnny continued to watch her. Knowing he would say more on the matter, perhaps point out the benefits of a marriage, she decided it was time to turn the conversation to his personal life. “You’re a fine-looking man. I expect there are lots of young ladies eager for your attention. Anyone in particular?”

      He cranked his head to look straight ahead.

      Seemed she had touched a sore spot.

      “No one in particular. Like you, I’m not interested in marriage.”

      She gave a disbelieving snort. “Except I’ve already tried it. Have you?”

      “Thankfully, I escaped just in time.”

      “Really?” She tried and failed to imagine what might have gone wrong. Not only was Johnny fine-looking, she’d seen all kinds of other qualities a young lady might admire—his gentle nature, his kindness, the way he treated Adam.

      Perhaps the young lady had died. But... “You said you ‘escaped.’ Isn’t that an odd word choice?”

      One shoulder lifted in a shrug that she guessed was meant to inform her he didn’t care.

      Now her curiosity kicked in. That one little word—escaped—informed her that whatever had happened, it had been hurtful. For some reason, Willow wanted to comfort him.

      Finally he replied, “It’s not odd if it fits.”

      “I see.” Except she didn’t. “Or at least I would if you care to explain it.”

      “It’s not like it’s a secret. Everybody in the whole county knows what happened.”

      Again, she felt a world of pain behind his words. But she said nothing. She had no right.

      “I was about to be married.” He spoke softly as if lost in his memories, his attention straight ahead. “Trudy Dingman was her name. I loved her. Thought she loved me.” He paused for a beat of silence. “I was wrong. She only planned to use me.” In short, brisk statements, as if he meant to relay the story in as few words as possible, he told a tale that could be a mirror of Willow’s own. About a young woman pregnant by a man who disappeared. How she turned to Johnny, pretending to love him in order to have a name for her child. Not that Willow had pretended to love Bertie, though she’d done her best to be kind and obedient until Adam was born, and then she