Page 11 of Stay Wild Darlin’

I grabbed the car seat, carefully securing Cora inside while mumbling yet another thanks to Beau—for what felt like the millionth time. Fable gave me a quick hug, squeezing my arm before stepping back, and then Beau offered to help me to the truck.

I nodded in thanks, and we walked out in silence, the cool evening air settling around us.

“I took her on a walk down to see the bucking chutes,” Beau finally said.

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks, man.”

“She liked the sound of the bulls. Like her dad.”

Dad. The word still hadn’t fully sunk in. One day, I wasn’t responsible for anyone but myself, and the next, someone handed me this tiny, fragile human and told me she was mine. Mine to protect, to raise, to never let down.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Fuck, man. How did I mess up this badly?”

“Nah,” Beau said, shaking his head. “You may fuck up often.” He swatted my arm playfully. “But this little girl is a blessing.”

I swallowed hard, glancing at Cora, so small in her car seat. “I need to keep riding,” I murmured, more to myself than to him. “More so now than ever.”

“I know. We’ll make this work, Dalt. You’re not a failure.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did. That nagging voice wouldn’t let up—I was. I still am.

“I appreciate you,” I murmured, adjusting Cora’s car seat in the back of the truck. “Better get going, bring this girl home.”

Beau stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know Fable has a lot of wild ideas, but if she’s got a nanny in mind, consider it. You’ve got that extra room in the back of your ranch.”

I nodded slowly. My ranch was older than most of the ones in Lindley. It had been built in a time when ranch hands lived on-site, needing a place to sleep after long, grueling days. The extra quarters had been sitting empty since I moved in. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea to put it to use.

Still, the idea of letting a stranger into my life, my home, was overwhelming. Everything had already changed so fast, and I wasn’t sure I could handle more.

“I’ll think about it,” I finally said, gripping the truck door.

Beau didn’t push it. “Drive safe, man.”

I nodded again, climbed into the truck, and with one last glance at Cora, I drove off into the night.

“I’m doing my best, Cora girl. I don’t know what else to do.” I hadn’t realized a baby could cry this much and this loudly.

Instinctively, I reached for my phone, ready to call Fable for help, but I stopped myself. This was my baby. I had to figure this out on my own.

“I fed you, and you won’t take any more. I’ve rocked you, changed your diaper . . . what else do you need, sweetheart?”

Cora’s cries only grew more urgent, and I ran a frustrated hand down my face.

The floor creaked beneath my boots as I paced the length of my tiny ranch house, rocking Cora in my arms, trying like hell to get her to settle. The walls were thin, the air too still, and the only real piece of furniture in the living room was a couch shoved into the corner. The house had always been bare bones but functional. A mattress on the floor, a fridge stocked with beer and whatever groceries I grabbed in passing, a TV that barely worked.

I was totally unprepared for a baby. The portable playpen was the only baby item in the house, donated by one of the older ladies in town who didn’t need it anymore. I hadn’t even thought about where she’d sleep when Brooke handed her over to me. I was fumbling my way through this, barely holding on, and Cora’s screams made it real clear I wasn’t doing a great job.

“What else do you need, baby girl?”

She wailed louder, her tiny fists balled up, her whole body tense. I sighed and continued pacing.

I looked down at her, at her scrunched-up little face. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, Cora girl. I’m trying.”

As her cries seemed to lessen, I sank into the worn leather couch. Cora was wrapped snugly in a soft blanket, nestled against my chest, her tiny body finally beginning to relax.

“Do you miss your mom?”

She let out a little sigh, or maybe I was imagining what I wanted to hear.