Gideon Ward arrived six days later in a black carriage that looked absurdly expensive against the frozen Wyoming road.
Nathaniel saw it from the barn.
Two matching horses.
Polished brass fittings.
A hired driver wearing a wool coat finer than anything Nathaniel owned.
The carriage stopped outside the house shortly before noon.
Nathaniel put down the pitchfork.
Adeline appeared on the porch.
Even from thirty yards away, he saw fear move through her posture.
He crossed the yard immediately.
“Inside.”
“Nathaniel—”
“Please.”
She looked at him.
The single word changed something.
She nodded and stepped back into the house.
Nathaniel reached the porch just as the carriage door opened.
Gideon Ward emerged.
He was perhaps sixty, with iron-gray hair, a trimmed beard, and the stillness of a man who had spent years making other people wait for him to speak.
His coat alone probably cost more than Nathaniel’s first horse.
Ward looked over the ranch.
Then at Nathaniel.
“Mr. Cole.”
“Ward.”
“So you know who I am.”
“You announced yourself by telegram.”
Gideon’s mouth tightened.
“I came for Miss Foster.”
“She isn’t a package.”
“I did not say she was.”
“No. You just sent word that her unborn child belongs to you.”
Gideon removed his gloves one finger at a time.
“My son is dead.”
“So I heard.”
“That child is all that remains of him.”
Nathaniel glanced toward the window.
Adeline stood behind the curtain.
“That doesn’t make the child yours.”
Gideon’s eyes hardened.
“Are you the father?”
“No.”
“Then this hardly concerns you.”
Nathaniel took one step closer.
“It concerns me because you came onto my property frightening a woman under my roof.”
Ward studied him.
“I’d like to speak with Adeline.”
“You can ask.”
“Ask?”
Nathaniel almost smiled.
“Yes. It’s something decent men do before deciding for women.”
The front door opened.
Adeline stepped outside.
Nathaniel turned.
Her face was pale, but her chin was high.
“I’ll speak with him.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Those three words mattered.
Gideon’s gaze dropped immediately to her stomach.
For one raw second, grief broke through his controlled expression.
Then it disappeared.
“Adeline.”
“Mr. Ward.”
“You look well.”
“No thanks to you.”
Nathaniel said nothing.
Gideon breathed through his nose.
“I came to correct an unfortunate situation.”
Adeline laughed once.
“You mean my child.”
“I mean your circumstances.”
“My circumstances stopped being your concern when you called me a liar at your son’s funeral.”
Ward glanced at Nathaniel.
“This is a family matter.”
Adeline’s eyes flashed.
“You told me I wasn’t family.”
Silence.
Nathaniel nearly admired the strike.
Gideon recovered.
“I spoke in grief.”
“You spoke exactly what you believed.”
“I lost my only son.”
“And I lost the man I was going to marry.”
“You expect me to accept that this baby is Elias’s merely because you say so?”
Adeline recoiled.
Nathaniel stepped forward.
“Careful.”
Gideon stared at him.
Nathaniel’s voice remained calm.
“That was your final warning.”
Adeline placed a hand lightly against Nathaniel’s arm.
He looked at her.
“I can answer.”
He nodded.
Adeline turned back toward Gideon.
“You don’t have to believe me.”
Ward’s expression changed.
“But whether you believe me or not, you will not take my child.”
“I can provide things you cannot.”
“What things?”
“Education. Security. A proper home.”
Adeline looked around Nathaniel’s ranch.
“This looks like a proper home to me.”
Something shifted in Nathaniel’s chest.
Ward noticed.
His gaze moved between them.
“You intend to marry him?”
Adeline hesitated.
Nathaniel felt it.
He could not blame her.
Their marriage remained uncertain.
Gideon saw the hesitation too.
He reached into his coat and removed an envelope.
“I anticipated this conversation.”
Adeline did not take it.
“What is that?”
“An offer.”
Nathaniel’s jaw clenched.
Ward extended it.
“Five thousand dollars.”
Adeline stared.
Even Nathaniel was startled.
Five thousand dollars could buy a good ranch outright in some parts of the territory.
“In exchange for what?” she asked.
“You will remain comfortably provided for until the birth. Afterward, the child comes to Laramie with me.”
Nathaniel’s hand curled into a fist.
Adeline stared at Gideon.
Then she did something neither man expected.
She laughed.
Softly at first.
Then with genuine disbelief.
Gideon’s face reddened.
“You think this is amusing?”
“No.”
Adeline wiped a tear that had escaped.
“I think Elias would be ashamed of you.”
Ward’s face went rigid.
“Do not use my son against me.”
“You’re trying to purchase his child.”
“I’m trying to save his child from poverty and scandal.”
Nathaniel stepped forward.
“Look around again.”
Gideon did.
Nathaniel spread his hands.
“Nine hundred acres. Two hundred head. House paid for. Barn paid for. No bank note.”
Ward’s mouth tightened.
“I don’t see poverty.”
“That still leaves scandal.”
Nathaniel stared at him.
“That tends to follow cruel people more closely than unmarried mothers.”
Adeline looked at Nathaniel.
He did not look back.
He was too busy watching Gideon Ward decide how angry he could afford to become.
Finally Gideon returned the envelope to his coat.
“You have no legal connection to that child, Cole.”
“Neither do you while the mother is alive and capable of raising it.”
“I have attorneys who may disagree.”
“Bring all of them.”
Adeline inhaled sharply.
Ward’s eyes narrowed.
Nathaniel continued.
“But understand something before you do. Adeline arrived at this ranch under my protection. Whatever happens between her and me, that does not change.”
The words came before Nathaniel fully understood their meaning.
Whatever happens between her and me.
He had just separated his anger at Adeline from his determination to protect her.
Gideon heard it.
So did Adeline.
Ward put on his gloves.
“I’ll return with proper authority.”
“Then bring proper authority.”
Gideon climbed into his carriage.
Before closing the door, he looked at Adeline.
“Think carefully. You have no idea how difficult life will become.”
Adeline placed both hands over her stomach.
“I already know difficult.”
The carriage rolled away.
Nathaniel stood beside her until it disappeared.
Then he turned.
“You all right?”
Adeline nodded too quickly.
“No.”
That answer was closer to the truth.
Nathaniel opened the door.
“Come inside.”
She did.
For ten minutes neither spoke.
Then Adeline sat at the kitchen table.
“I’m sorry.”
Nathaniel looked over.
“For what now?”
“For bringing him here.”
“You didn’t.”
“My choices did.”
“Ward’s choices brought Ward.”
She lowered her eyes.
Nathaniel poured coffee, though neither needed it.
“Did Elias know his father was like this?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you two marry sooner?”
A sad smile appeared.
“We were stubborn.”
Nathaniel sat opposite her.
“About what?”
“Elias wanted enough money saved to give me a proper wedding.”
“What did you want?”
“To marry him behind the feed store if necessary.”
Nathaniel smiled despite himself.
Adeline saw it.
“He always thought he had more time.”
Nathaniel’s smile disappeared.
“So did I.”
Their eyes met.
Something passed between them.
Not forgiveness yet.
But recognition.
Life did not care what anyone planned.
That night the temperature dropped.
Nathaniel woke shortly after midnight to a sound in the hallway.
He sat up.
“Adeline?”
No answer.
He opened his door.
She was crouched against the wall.
One hand pressed to her abdomen.
Nathaniel’s blood turned cold.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
He dropped beside her.
“Are you bleeding?”
“No.”
“Pain?”
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
She gripped his arm.
“Bad enough.”
Nathaniel did not remember putting on his boots.
Within minutes, he had Adeline wrapped in blankets and was hitching the fastest horse.
The doctor lived nearly eight miles away.
The road was hard with ice.
Nathaniel drove faster than he ever had.
Every time the wagon struck a rut, Adeline gasped.
“Sorry.”
“Just keep going.”
He looked at her.
Her face was tight with pain.
Fear ripped through him.
Not simply fear for Adeline.
Fear for the child.
He realized it with shocking clarity.
He did not want the baby to die.
This baby he had not made.
This baby whose existence had shattered the future he imagined.
He wanted it alive.
“Stay with me,” he said.
“I’m not dying.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Nathaniel.”
“Yes?”
“Stop helping.”
Despite the terror, he almost laughed.
They reached Doctor Samuel Pike’s house before one in the morning.
Pike examined Adeline while Nathaniel paced the front room so violently the doctor’s wife finally ordered him into a chair.
After nearly forty minutes, Pike emerged.
Nathaniel stood.
“Well?”
“Mother and child appear fine.”
His knees nearly failed.
“What happened?”
“Likely strain combined with exhaustion and nerves.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“Nerves?”
Pike gave him a meaningful look.
“Pregnant women are not livestock, Cole. Fear affects the body.”
Nathaniel looked toward the closed bedroom door.
“What should I do?”
“Keep her warm. Make certain she eats. Don’t let her lift things she shouldn’t.”
“I already tell her that.”
“Tell her better.”
Nathaniel glared.
Pike smiled.
“And try not to frighten her.”
“I’m not the one threatening to steal her child.”
The doctor’s expression changed.
“So the Ward story is true.”
“Apparently the whole territory knows.”
“Casper knows. That’s worse.”
Nathaniel grunted.
When Adeline emerged, she looked exhausted.
Nathaniel helped her into her coat.
During the ride home, she fell asleep against his shoulder.
Nathaniel drove with one hand.
The other arm remained carefully around her.
He could feel the faint weight of her head.
The warmth of her body.
The unborn child between them.
At sunrise they reached the ranch.
Nathaniel carried her inside despite her weak protest.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“You nearly collapsed.”
“I can walk.”
“Tomorrow.”
He placed her gently on the bed.
Adeline looked up at him.
“Nathaniel?”
“Hmm?”
“Were you frightened?”
He considered lying.
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
She waited.
Nathaniel looked toward the curve beneath the blankets.
“And the baby.”
Adeline’s eyes filled.
Nathaniel moved toward the door.
Before he reached it, she spoke.
“You would have been a good father.”
He stopped.
Would have been.
The words found the old wound perfectly.
Nathaniel turned.
Adeline immediately looked sorry.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
He stood there for several seconds.
Then he said the thing Jacob Mercer had forced him to consider.
“Maybe a man doesn’t need to make a child to become one.”
Adeline stared at him.
Nathaniel left before either of them could make more of the sentence.
But later that morning, while repairing a fence beneath a hard blue sky, Nathaniel realized he had said become one, not become a father.
Because somewhere inside himself, without permission and far too soon, he had already begun thinking of Adeline’s child not as Elias Ward’s baby.
But as the child sleeping beneath his roof.
And that realization frightened Nathaniel Cole more than Gideon Ward ever could.
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