Nathaniel had faced stampedes.
Prairie fires.
Armed cattle thieves.
Once, he had been thrown from a horse badly enough that his shoulder remained crooked for the rest of his life.
None of those things frightened him as much as Adeline saying, “The baby is coming.”
For one second, Nathaniel froze.
Adeline gripped the table.
“Nathaniel.”
That restored him.
“I’m here.”
“We need Mrs. Morris.”
“I’ll get her.”
“No.”
He stared.
Adeline bent forward as another contraction seized her.
When it passed, she gasped, “You cannot leave me alone.”
Nathaniel looked toward the window.
Night.
Rain.
Spring runoff had already swollen the creek.
Riding to the Morris ranch and back could take more than two hours.
Too long.
He ran to the bunkhouse.
Eli opened the door wearing one boot.
“What happened?”
“Baby.”
Eli blinked.
“Now?”
“Now.”
“That seems bad.”
“Ride for Mrs. Morris.”
Eli grabbed his coat.
“I’m gone.”
Nathaniel returned to the house.
Adeline was pacing.
“What do I do?”
She actually laughed.
“You’re asking me?”
“I assumed you’d know.”
“Why would I know?”
“You’re the one having the baby.”
“Nathaniel Cole, if you say one more foolish thing—”
Another contraction hit.
He caught her.
“All right. No more foolish things.”
For three hours, Nathaniel became whatever Adeline needed.
He boiled water because women in every story seemed to boil water during childbirth.
He changed sheets.
He supported her as she walked.
He whispered encouragement.
He let her crush his fingers.
At one point Adeline screamed, “I hate you!”
Nathaniel blinked.
“Me?”
“Yes!”
“I didn’t cause this.”
She glared.
“Wrong answer.”
“Understood.”
Near midnight, the storm intensified.
No sign of Eli.
No Mrs. Morris.
Adeline lay exhausted.
“Nathaniel.”
“I’m here.”
“I’m scared.”
His chest tightened.
He sat beside her.
“I know.”
“What if the baby is too small?”
“We’ll keep the baby warm.”
“What if something goes wrong?”
“Then we handle it.”
“You don’t know how.”
“No.”
Nathaniel brushed wet hair from her forehead.
“But I’m not leaving.”
She looked into his eyes.
That was enough.
At nearly one in the morning, Mrs. Morris burst through the door.
Eli followed, drenched.
“Bridge washed halfway out,” he said.
Nathaniel had never been so happy to see another human being.
Mrs. Morris took control immediately.
Hours blurred.
Nathaniel waited outside when she ordered him away.
Then Adeline screamed his name.
He went back in.
“Let him stay,” she gasped.
Mrs. Morris shrugged.
“Your birth.”
Nathaniel held Adeline’s hand.
Shortly before dawn, the room changed.
Mrs. Morris leaned forward.
“One more.”
Adeline sobbed.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” Nathaniel said.
She looked at him with complete exhaustion.
Nathaniel pressed his forehead against hers.
“You crossed half the country carrying this child. You survived Thomas Bell. You survived my cooking. You can do this.”
Adeline laughed and cried simultaneously.
Then pushed.
A baby’s cry filled the room.
Nathaniel stopped breathing.
Mrs. Morris lifted a tiny, red-faced infant.
“A girl.”
Adeline collapsed against the pillows.
“A girl?”
“A mighty angry one.”
Nathaniel stared.
The baby was impossibly small.
Mrs. Morris wrapped her quickly.
Nathaniel’s joy became fear.
“She’s tiny.”
“Early babies are.”
“Is she all right?”
“She’s breathing.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“It’s what I can promise.”
Mrs. Morris placed the baby against Adeline’s chest.
Adeline sobbed.
Nathaniel stood beside the bed.
He did not touch the baby.
He was suddenly afraid to.
Adeline looked up.
“Come here.”
Nathaniel stepped closer.
She shifted the blanket.
“Meet your daughter.”
Nathaniel’s throat closed.
“My…”
Adeline watched him carefully.
“Your daughter.”
He touched one tiny hand.
Five miniature fingers wrapped around his index finger.
Nathaniel broke.
Not loudly.
There was simply no defense left.
Tears ran down his face.
For fifteen years, he had believed fatherhood was one room in life whose door had been permanently locked.
Now a three-pound girl gripped his finger.
Nathaniel bent and kissed her forehead.
“Hello, little one.”
Adeline smiled weakly.
“What do we call her?”
Nathaniel looked at her.
“I thought you had names.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“None feel right.”
Nathaniel studied the child.
“What was your mother’s name?”
“Grace.”
He smiled.
“Grace Cole?”
Adeline’s eyes filled.
“Grace Cole.”
For the next several days, the ranch revolved around keeping Grace alive.
Mrs. Morris remained.
Adeline fed the baby every two hours.
Nathaniel kept the room warm.
Grace slept inside a smaller basket rather than the cradle because Mrs. Morris said the enclosed space would hold warmth better.
Nathaniel checked her breathing constantly.
The first night, Adeline woke and found him leaning over the basket.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve checked her fourteen times.”
“She’s very quiet.”
“She’s sleeping.”
“Suspiciously.”
Adeline laughed.
Grace survived the first week.
Then the second.
She remained small.
But strong.
Nathaniel became absurd.
He held her while reviewing cattle accounts.
Walked her across the porch.
Talked to her about fence posts.
“This section on the north boundary is poorly planned,” he told the sleeping infant.
Adeline watched from the doorway.
“Do you think she understands?”
“She agrees.”
“How do you know?”
“She hasn’t argued.”
Their happiness lasted twenty-three days.
Then Thomas Bell returned.
This time with a lawyer.
And a court order.
Nathaniel opened the door and felt rage move through him before either man spoke.
Thomas looked past him.
“I came to see my daughter.”
“No.”
The lawyer cleared his throat.
“Mr. Cole—”
Nathaniel held out his hand.
The lawyer gave him the document.
A judge had granted Thomas limited supervised visitation pending the full custody hearing.
Adeline read it over Nathaniel’s shoulder.
“No.”
Thomas looked at her.
“You cannot keep Grace from me forever.”
Hearing the baby’s name in his mouth made Adeline recoil.
“You don’t know her.”
“That is why I’m here.”
Nathaniel stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
“You’ll see her when the order requires it. With Reed present.”
Thomas smiled.
“Still pretending she’s yours.”
Nathaniel looked at him.
“Every night when she cries, I’m the one who walks the floor.”
Thomas’s smile weakened.
“When she struggles to breathe, I’m the one counting every breath. When she opens her eyes, she knows my voice.”
Nathaniel stepped closer.
“So if you’re asking whose daughter she is, maybe you should ask the person who gets up when she cries.”
Thomas’s face hardened.
The custody hearing was scheduled six weeks later.
During those weeks, Thomas visited three times.
Grace cried every time he held her.
Thomas looked uncomfortable with diapers.
Impatient with feeding.
At his second visit, he handed Grace back after seven minutes.
“She’s fussy.”
Nathaniel took her.
Grace quieted almost immediately.
Samuel Reed watched everything.
“So did the court observer,” he whispered.
There was hope.
Then Thomas changed tactics.
He challenged Nathaniel’s adoption rights.
Because Grace had a living biological father, Nathaniel could not legally adopt her without Thomas’s consent unless abandonment was established.
Thomas refused.
The legal battle became about one question.
Had Thomas Bell truly abandoned his unborn child?
The letters helped.
Mrs. Brennan’s testimony helped.
Adeline’s former employer testified that Thomas had never asked after her.
Then another complication appeared.
Catherine Bell.
Thomas’s wife.
She arrived in Casper without warning.
She wore an expensive blue dress and looked exhausted.
Adeline saw her first outside the courthouse.
Catherine approached.
“You’re Adeline Foster.”
“Cole.”
Catherine nodded.
“May we speak privately?”
Nathaniel started to object.
Adeline touched his arm.
“It’s all right.”
They entered an empty office.
Catherine removed her gloves.
“I didn’t know.”
Adeline waited.
“About you,” Catherine said. “About the baby. Not until Thomas’s father died.”
Adeline studied her.
“What did Thomas tell you?”
“That you were a former acquaintance attempting to embarrass him.”
Adeline laughed bitterly.
Catherine looked down.
“I believed him.”
“Why are you here?”
Catherine opened her handbag.
“Because I found these.”
She placed a packet of letters on the table.
Thomas’s father had written them.
One mentioned Adeline.
Another mentioned the pregnancy.
One sentence stood out.
If the girl keeps the child, Thomas, you will see that no scandal reaches Catherine before the wedding. Pay whatever is necessary.
Adeline covered her mouth.
Catherine’s eyes glistened.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“His father knew.”
“Yes.”
Catherine whispered, “And they both lied to me.”
Nathaniel entered when Adeline called him.
He read the letters.
Then looked at Catherine.
“Will you testify?”
She hesitated.
It would destroy her marriage.
Perhaps her social standing.
Maybe her financial security.
Then Catherine looked toward the hallway, where Grace was sleeping in Mrs. Morris’s arms.
“Yes.”
The courtroom was full on hearing day.
Thomas’s face changed when Catherine entered.
“What are you doing?”
She did not answer.
Under oath, Catherine told the truth.
Thomas had known about the pregnancy.
His father had known.
The marriage to Catherine had proceeded anyway.
Thomas had never spoken of wanting the baby until learning the trust required a descendant.
Thomas’s lawyer tried desperately to limit the damage.
He failed.
Then Samuel Reed called Nathaniel.
Nathaniel sat before the judge.
“Mr. Cole, Grace is not biologically yours.”
“No.”
“Does that matter?”
Nathaniel looked toward Adeline.
Then toward the baby in her arms.
“Yes.”
A murmur passed through the room.
Reed raised an eyebrow.
“How?”
Nathaniel leaned forward.
“It matters because someday Grace deserves to know the truth.”
Adeline’s eyes filled.
Nathaniel continued.
“She deserves to know where she came from. She deserves to know that another man contributed to her life.”
He looked toward Thomas.
“But fatherhood is not something a man contributes once.”
Silence filled the room.
“It is what happens every day afterward.”
Thomas looked away.
Nathaniel swallowed.
“I was told when I was young that I would probably never father children. I believed that meant I would never be anyone’s father.”
His voice became rough.
“I was wrong.”
Adeline began crying.
Nathaniel looked directly at the judge.
“That child is my daughter because I choose her every morning. And I will keep choosing her every day I am alive.”
The judge called a recess.
Nathaniel waited outside.
Adeline held Grace against his chest.
“What happens if we lose?”
Nathaniel looked down at the tiny face.
“We don’t stop fighting.”
An hour later, they were called back.
The judge entered.
Everyone stood.
And Nathaniel reached for Adeline’s hand.