Chapter Four
Why the heck do I feel so unsettled?
Cash had always trusted his instincts. Pa used to say that instinct kept a man alive. And so far, that had rung true. It had kept the ranch running years after his parents’ death, and everything else in order well enough.
So what’s different now?
The answer to that wasn’t hard. It was her.
There was something about that woman. About the whole situation… but Cash couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
He leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed, staring out at the pastures as the moon shone down.
It was late, and the air was cool. He liked it out here at night.
The air was always crisper at night. The crickets’ chirping, the distant noise of cattle, the rustling of the fields was enough to calm any nerves he’d had before.
Until now.
The ranch might have settled into its nighttime routine, but Cash hadn’t. Not by a long shot.
He looked toward the room at the far corner of the house. He could barely make out a dim light shining on the ground, the glow of a kerosene lamp, shining through the back bedroom window.
Josie Tate.
The woman he had found collapsed in his field. He still didn’t know what to make of her. She was clearly running from something—or someone—and whatever it was had put terror in her.
In fact, judging by the way she’d eyed him after she’d woken up, he was willing to bet that whatever it was had put enough terror into her that she’d run all the way out here.
The way she’d clutched that baby? It seemed wild, desperate.
It was almost as if she expected him to be ripped from her arms at any moment by someone trying to hurt them both.
Cash had seen fear before. In horses; in men; in his own reflection once or twice. But hers wasn’t just fear. It was survival instinct. Self-preservation.
And now, this fearful woman was under his roof.
And he had no idea what she was running from, or what she’d been so dang scared of.
A woman like her? Clearly intelligent, well-mannered, beautiful…
she shouldn’t be worried for anything. She should have a husband to take care of her. Not afraid and on the run with her son.
Something was wrong.
Cash let out a slow breath and rubbed a hand over his jaw.
She’s just a stray in need of shelter. Nothing more.
She’d be gone soon enough. He couldn’t let himself get carried away, or caught up in curiosity about her past. She was only here for a short time.
But that thought sat wrong in his chest, like a rock he couldn’t quite swallow. What would happen to her when she left?
He growled to himself. She’s sure to bring trouble here. What kind of woman would be on the run with her child without a husband? He needed to be careful.
She had to go—and the quicker, the better.
***
The sound of crying pulled Cash from sleep. He groaned, waking up to realize that his mouth was open on his pillow and he’d been drooling. It seemed he’d been sleeping hard.
Another wail sounded and he sat up abruptly, blinking wildly as his instincts rose to high alert before his brain managed to catch up. Then he heard it again… and again.
It took several moments before he remembered—the baby. He had forgotten for a moment who he had let into his house.
The woman—Josie Tate—she’d called the baby Samuel. He couldn’t have been more than nine or ten months, not eating solid foods yet, and his mother somehow couldn’t nurse. It was no wonder he cried so often. He was probably hungry all the time.
Like now. His wails carried through the quiet house, sharp and insistent.
Cash could hear his brothers moan and groan on the other side of the room in their small beds.
He was sure Beau was a little perturbed, considering he’d given up their parents’ room for the girl, and had been sleeping in the room that his two younger brothers shared.
But Beau hadn’t said anything to complain. Not yet, anyway.
Now, though? I bet he’s regretting that decision.
“That baby is so loud…” Luke growled, putting his pillow over his head.
Cash sighed heavily before throwing the blankets off himself. He didn’t have to get up. The woman would handle it. Still, he felt like he needed to help. If nothing else, then at least to help his brothers sleep, since he was the one who had brought Josie and her child in their home.
But he hesitated when he reached the door to her room. He wasn’t the type to intrude.
Then, he heard her.
“Shh, sweetheart. Please, please settle…”
Her voice was quiet, thick with exhaustion.
She sounded worn thin, like she was barely keeping it together.
Cash couldn’t exactly blame her. She’d been through a lot.
Even from what little he knew. Being half-dead of exhaustion and starvation after running for what must have been miles, judging by how blistered her feet were.
Before he could think better of it, he knocked lightly and pushed the door open.
Miss Tate had clearly been pacing, but as soon as he stepped into the room, she froze mid-step in surprise, her mouth agape. Samuel was bundled tightly in her arms, his tiny face red from crying so long.
Exhaustion, frustration, and something close to guilt bloomed in her expression. “I—” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Cash shook his head. “Ain’t a problem.”
That was … possibly a lie. His brothers clearly felt like it was a problem, and tomorrow’s Cash Montgomery might feel the same way if he woke up exhausted before working around the ranch all day.
Yet tonight’s Cash could see how troubled she already was. I don’t have to add to that.
She bounced the baby gently, but Cash wasn’t too sure it did any good. Samuel kept on fussing, his little fists flailing heatedly. He wasn’t happy. Not at all.
“He’s usually not like this,” she murmured, her voice tight and irritated. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’ve tried feeding him, changing him, rocking him—” She broke off, pressing her lips together.
Cash shook his head wearily. He hadn’t been around babies much, but distress was distress. Whether it came from a horse or a human—even tiny humans. “Here,” he said without thinking, holding out his hands.
Miss Tate stared at him, looking baffled. “What?”
“Let me try.”
She looked torn, as though she wanted to refuse but was too tired to argue. Finally, she relented, with an exhausted sigh.
At first, Cash cradled the baby awkwardly, but he soon adjusted to the weight in his arms. The kid was tiny, barely any weight at all, but he was warm. He was still squirming, his cries sharp, ear-piercing.
Cash wasn’t sure what had made him offer to do this. He hadn’t held a baby since Luke was an infant, and he had been only a child himself then. But now, Ma’s instructions were coming back to him, and he started swaying, slow and steady, rocking Samuel in soothing motions.
It’s almost like settling a horse…
He hummed low in his throat, the way he did sometimes in the barn, soft and absentminded. It wasn’t a tune, just something quiet, something calm. Hopefully as relaxing to human infants as it was to horses.
Eventually, the baby hiccupped. His cries softened.
Cash smiled.
He felt Miss Tate’s eyes on him, now, the disbelief coming from her. He just kept rocking, kept humming. After a few long paces across the floor, the little guy’s cries faded into soft whimpers, then quiet sniffles, and eventually the gentle sound of snoring.
His tiny fingers curled against Cash’s chest, his breathing evening out. Cash smiled. He heard Miss Tate exhale, and he looked up at her to see her shoulders sag.
“How did you do that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Reckon he just needed a change of pace.”
She stared at him, brows raised, eyes glistening, like he’d just performed some kind of miracle. She took a step closer, and warmth spread through his chest.
And when she took Samuel back, her fingers brushed his hand, sending a shiver down his entire body.
You don’t know her! A faint ripple of alarm went through him. What are you thinking? These two could be a lot of trouble for you!
Quickly, he drew back, watching her as she cradled Samuel closely and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she looked up at Cash, flashing him a smile that tightened his throat. “I mean it.”
Clearing his throat, he nodded and turned away from her.
She was beautiful. He could see that, easily. He wasn’t blind. Although he wished he was, now.
She has to be married. That’s why she has a baby.
But there was more to it than that. There was something about her that was reeling him in, making him care a little too much. Something he couldn’t let himself dwell on.
Women on the run meant trouble, and Cash couldn’t afford trouble.
“Get some rest,” he grumbled, keeping his gaze averted as he turned toward the door.
But as it turned out, he wasn’t able to take his own advice. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. That maybe, despite his better judgment, he wasn’t as detached from this as he wanted to be.
***
“Son of a—” Cash growled as he bent back the latch on the barn door. It wasn’t staying closed for anything, and he wondered irritably what his brothers had done to it. Probably slammed it too hard one too many times.
The metal was hard to bend, but it was nowhere near as difficult as sleeping had been. Dawn was still hours off when he finally decided to give up sleep and head outside to get started on work. Now, dawn was breaking, and all he’d done so far was try—unsuccessfully—to fix the door.
A chuckle sounded from behind him. “Havin’ a little trouble?” Beau asked.
Cash rolled his eyes and grumbled—not an actual response. He looked over his shoulder and shot a glare at Beau.
Beau leaned against the outside wall of the barn and crossed his arms. “You’re up early.”
Cash huffed. “So are you.”
Beau smirked. “Couldn’t sleep.” He was quiet for a second. “I didn’t break that.”
Cash shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath, trying to ignore his brother. It was to be expected between Beau and Luke—neither of them wanted to take responsibility. It was always the other’s fault.
“She still here?” Beau asked, drawing Cash’s eyes.
He didn’t like the way Beau had asked that question. As if he was expecting the woman not to be there anymore—as if he didn’t want her to be there. Not that Cash wanted that, either. But he couldn’t just kick her out, especially not when she had a baby.
“Yeah,” Cash said. “Still here.”
Beau nodded, eyeing him sharply, so sharply that he felt he’d be cut if he moved. “You not worried about whatever she’s runnin’ from?”
Cash stood up and shook his head. He went inside the barn door, brushing past Beau, jaw tight.
Beau pushed off the doorframe and came in after him. “You should be,” he went on, but Cash still didn’t turn around. He grabbed his brush and wandered over to the end stall that belonged to his mare Ruby.
“You don’t know what kind of trouble she’s going to bring.”
Cash turned to face him fully, tired of the meddling. “You think I don’t know that?” he snapped.
“I think you don’t wanna admit how protective you’re already feelin’—how much of a fool it’s making you!” Beau hissed.
Cash shot him a glare. “She’s got a baby, Beau,” he growled. “She’s in trouble. I ain’t about to toss her out on her rear.”
But Beau’s words smarted. Fool? He was far from a fool. If it weren’t for him, the whole place would fall in around them. He did everything for his family, but he wasn’t going to let Beau talk him into throwing some poor woman out on the street with an infant.
“I know that.” Beau held up his hands, looking more exasperated than placating.
“I’m just sayin’—you keep her here, you make her your problem.
Whatever she’s running from? It’s gonna come knockin’.
And if I were you, I’d be findin’ out what she’s running from before offering her permanent room and board. ”
Cash already knew that whatever she had left behind was probably going to find him.
This was the West. No one outran that.
But it didn’t change a darn thing.
“She’ll leave as soon as she finds a way,” he said firmly.
Beau studied him and sighed heavily. “Well, when is that gonna be?”
Cash shrugged. “Dunno.” He wasn’t going to pretend to guess, either.
Beau took a deep breath and clapped a hand on Cash’s shoulder. “Figured.” Then he turned and walked out, leaving Cash alone with his thoughts.
Scowling, Cash turned back to Ruby, but his mind was elsewhere.
Beau was right. Miss Tate and that baby—they were his problem now.
And he couldn’t afford many more problems.