“Tuckered out?”
“I wouldn’t mind a chance to catch my breath.” Emmaline’s head swivels my way when she hears my voice. “My sweet girl, did you miss me? Come see.” Warren passes her to me, and I press soft kisses to her hair. Do all babies smell as good as mine? Surely not.
Cornelius appears to my right and gruffly clears his throat. “Sure am glad you decided to come tonight.”
I still, unsure if it’s me he’s speaking to. But when a reply isn’t forthcoming, I look up and find both men staring at me. Warren’s hand flexes on my waist, and I accept the encouragement it offers. “I didn’t want to.”
Crinkles of kindness line his eyes, and I’m struck by just how much of Warren I see in him. This close, it’s impossible to miss, and it puts me more at ease.
“I didn’t want to,” I repeat. “But I also couldn’t hide away for the rest of my life.” Emmaline begins to gnaw on her fist, and the cuteness of it coaxes a smile from me. “When my daughter’s old enough, I want her to walk in front of everyone with a respectable name. To know that Warren’sher papa in the eyes of God and man. But she can’t if I don’t show her how much I believe it first.”
“Damn right I’m her papa,” Warren says without a care for who might overhear his language.
“And you do believe it, don’t you?” the older Shay asks.
I think back to how I mouthed off to those older women. “I absolutely do.”
“As you should. Emmaline’s a Shay now, same as you.” Cornelius’s tone is stern, yet kind. “No matter what anyone here in Hope’s Stand or anywhere else says, you walk proud knowing you’re one of ours. I don’t know all the things you’ve been through, but I can hazard a guess none of it was pleasant. None of us would fault you if you never wanted to step foot in town again. But you’re a strong woman—a strong mother—and you’re setting a mighty fine example for that darlin’ little girl of yours.”
“The best mother.” A small hand squeeze accompanies Warren’s proud proclamation.
Unless doing the opposite of Mrs. Overstreet counts, no one’s taught me how to be a mother. But I must be doing at least part of it right if both of these men can see it. Something in my heart shifts, something good, and I tighten my lips to prevent them from wobbling. Crying in front of everyone is the last thing I need, especially on my first public outing. When I’m able to contain myself, I meet Cornelius’s gaze. “Thank you for accepting us into your family.”
Craggy lines spread as his cheeks lift. “That’s what a true family does, Mara.”
When it’s time to dance with the elder Shay, it’s not nearly as awkward as I had feared it would be. All of these Shay men are a cut above the rest I’ve known. And there’s something about Cornelius. He’s quiet and sometimes alittle gruff with his words, but he’s always respected my need for distance between us.
Now his quiet is calming. He’s steady like his son.
He calls me his daughter.
And maybe, just maybe, I can one day call him Pop.
CHAPTER 19
WARREN
“Wife of mine.”I wrap an arm around Mara’s shoulders as she pinches the spot between her eyebrows with three fingers. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a mite peaked. How about we get out of here?”
We’ve been here for a few hours now, and this is the second time in the last while that Mara’s rubbed along her forehead. The smile she wore for so long droops at the edges, and her shoulders follow suit. She did good tonight. Real good. Danced her heart out—the two dances with my father and brother but the others all with me—and ate until her belly was full. Made conversation with Dove and even some other ladyfolk who were much more friendly and polite than the ones who’d gossiped about us before.
But now she’s exhausted from being around all these strangers. Even Emmaline is sprawled in her arms, little rosebud mouth and limbs slack in slumber since we’d slipped off into a small, quiet room earlier so she could nurse.
Mara nods, her pained expression dissipating as she bundles our child up. “Yes. I’m ready to go home.”
I hide the smile that wants to form. I’m not entirely sure of the exact moment she began thinking of our place as her home, but it sure as hell makes me stand just a bit taller as we make our goodbyes to the family and promise to visit each other soon. The cold air seeps into our bones as soon as we cross the threshold, and Mara covers Emmaline’s head a little more securely.
A yelp breaks through the night, then an angry curse. “Piece a’shit.”
I stiffen, angling myself in front of my wife and child as I search for the threatening voice. There, to our left and just down the street from the saloon, a man stumbles beneath a lamp post and kicks at something too dark for me to see in the dust.
“What is it?”
I shake my head and guide her towards the livery stable where our horses wait to be hitched up to the wagon. “Just someone with a few drinks too many. Let’s go.” But another yelp sounds, this time followed by a soft whine.
Mara falters. “That sounded like a dog.”
“It did.” Unease tightens my chest. “Why don’t you head back inside and I’ll see what’s going on.”
