Page 23 of The Cowboy and the Baby

How could her fingers be so little?

Yet have such a fierce grip?

“You seem very practical, Cade.”

“You don’t work a ranch without a hearty dose of practicality. And this room will need practicality.”

For the next couple of minutes, we swapped improvements for the bedroom, and added to her list. I paused at the door.

“Anything else in here?”

She shook her head, expression unreadable, as we moved through the first and second guest bedrooms. Our conversation stayed within the bounds of house improvement.

With every tap of her thumbs, the list elongated.

Daunting.

Tragic, almost.

Necessity had kept the kitchen the most up-to-date and manageable room. Morgan had to replace the oven a few years ago, but he grabbed a used replacement that didn’t have much more life left than his old one. He hadn’t eaten much, and the boys and I ate out of our place in the barn, so most of the cupboards were empty. I’d repaired some sink issues and flooring last summer.

The depths of the wild basement, where Morgan’s penchant for hoarding gained full mastery, is where overwhelm finally appeared on Noelle’s expression. We surveyed the dank living room in silence, where only a single light bulb hung from a wire dangling from the center of the ceiling.

She tucked her phone into her pocket, as if the project was too far gone to take notes on, and sighed. “I . . . think this will take a bit, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Well . . . let me run to the bathroom upstairs, then we can tackle what’s needed in the basement.”

Noelle pranced lightly up the stairs, swinging her left arm to the side in a stretch as she went. Clearly, she felt no qualms leaving the baby alone with me. I liked that.

A lot.

Holding Lily without a second of hesitation from Noelle felt like progress when I didn’t know I wanted progress. A woman wouldn’t leave her baby girl with a man unless she trusted him, right? That felt good. And so did holding Lily.

Such a petite child.

After I gently repositioned her into my other arm, I began a slow walk. Lily kept her eyes on me. They were wide, constant, moving. Hands wiggled, feet kicked. Her thumb found her mouth and her eyes widened. When I chuckled, she startled, and her stare expanded.

“You and I are going to get used to each other pretty fast, I think, little one.”

She yawned and looked away.

While waiting, and enjoying the weight of her in my arms, I perused the bricked fireplace, stained with soot. The old chimney would require repairs before we could use it again. Wyatt found a kit that we used to clean the chimney last year, which would save us a couple hundred dollars.

Amidst all this doing was the paying. We could make whatever list we wanted, but it all came down to affordability and time.

Noelle returned, curiosity in her raised brow.

“She didn’t cry?”

“Not a peep. If you want to keep taking notes, we’re doing just fine.”

She grinned softly. “Thank you. It’s . . . it’s nice to have my hands free. I love being near her, but sometimes my arms ache.”

We began to sort through each room and closet. Her overwhelm arose in pieces and snatches, but passed quickly. The toilet didn’t have water in it—who knows how long since it had been functional—and the sink had a crack down the middle. Old cobwebs draped the walls like fabric. The closets brimmed full.

Morgan stuffed his wife’s belongings away into all sorts of nooks and crannies down here. Noelle would have to clean it out, and I was glad to transfer the responsibility to her. I didn’t have to impose on the family to ask if they wanted keepsakes, and I wouldn’t have to deal with Marsha, either.