Karen Whiddon

A Secret Colton Baby


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much Gram means to me.”

      “We all feel that way,” Gemma said. “And you may not care about yourself, but you have to think of the baby. You can’t risk her.” She took a deep breath. “Right now you’d be denied entrance anyway. Only essential medical personnel are allowed in, and we have to put on protective-wear as a precaution.”

      Theo cursed again. “How bad off is Gram?”

      “Right now she’s stable.” Another shaky breath, the sound coming through as more of a warning than any words could be. “The CDC is sending a team. Flint knows this already, but they’re talking about a quarantine.”

      Theo stopped pacing, trying to understand. “A quarantine? Of what, the clinic?”

      “No. Dead River. The entire town.” And then Gemma, his normally unflappable sister, began to cry.

      Theo did his best to console her, well aware she most likely hadn’t shared every detail with him. “What about the baby?” he asked, taking a deep breath. “She was with Mimi right before she died. We need to get her checked out.”

      “You’re right,” Gemma said. “And you and anyone else who might have come into contact with her. I can’t come by tonight, but I work the afternoon shift tomorrow, so I’m off in the morning. How about I swing by the ranch and check her out then?”

      “That’d be perfect.”

      “Then that’s what I’ll do.” With that, Gemma told him she had to go back to work and ended the call.

      Stunned, Theo could only stare at his phone. He felt he needed to do something, anything, but he didn’t know what. If this virus had been a bronc, he would have climbed on and ridden it into submission. But it wasn’t, and in reality, there was nothing he could do but stand by helplessly and watch.

      And that summed it up. He was a rodeo cowboy, a bareback bronc riding champion, and not much else. He couldn’t even help his own grandmother—the woman who’d raised him—when she needed assistance.

      But he could—and would—protect Amelia. His tiny daughter had no one else. He’d somehow figure out a way to be a good father, even though he had no idea how. Again the spicy scent of chili filled his nostrils. This time, the smell filled him with purpose. Ellie had done nothing but work all day. She had to be starving.

      He found a cookie sheet that would work as a tray and filled a bowl with corn chips before ladling the chili over that. Topping if off with a generous amount of shredded cheddar cheese, he folded a paper towel to act as a napkin, grabbed a spoon and a can of cola and carried the tray up to Ellie’s room.

      It was impossible to knock with his hands full, so he didn’t bother. The door was cracked. He used his elbow to nudge it the rest of the way open.

      Carrying the tray, he paused just inside the room. Both Ellie and the baby were asleep on the bed—Ellie sitting up, her back supported by both pillows, still cradling the infant securely in her arms.

      Carefully and quietly, he placed the tray on the dresser and stared at the pair. Bathed in the soft light from the window, Ellie looked almost angelic. Looking at her and the sleeping baby made the back of his throat ache.

      Shaking his head, he scoffed at himself. Still, there was a particular glow about her. Maybe it was one of those things females got when they were around babies. Who knew?

      He took the opportunity to study her—and his child, too. Something about the scene calmed him, the way beauty always did. Ellie’s exotic, high cheekbones caught the light, bringing a soft flush to her creamy skin. The delicacy of her face seemed almost at odds with her lean, athletic body. She’d pulled her hair, a soft brown color, back into a ponytail. The soft strands that had escaped framed and highlighted her face.

      And the baby... Chest tight, he moved closer to examine her. Perfect little rosebud of a mouth, dusky skin like her mother’s. Innocent and perfect, too much so for the likes of someone like him. What did he know about being a father? His dad had become a drunk after their mother was killed in a car accident. His father had been in and out of their lives, showing up just often enough to humiliate his sons. He’d finally abandoned their family, much to everyone’s unspoken relief. Gram had taken over, filling the void as best she could. She’d been both mother and father, grandmother and teacher to Flint, Theo and Gemma.

      Standing there in the quiet room, midday sunlight warm on his arm, Theo faced the fact that the world he’d taken for granted continued to crumble down around him. Losing the ability to rodeo had seemed like the worst thing that could ever happen, even though everyone had kept telling him he should consider himself lucky that he’d survived.

      But now his beloved Gram was seriously ill, and this tiny, helpless human had been entrusted to his care. Him, of all people, who had always taken a certain sort of pride in being the least settled person he knew. Despite his satisfaction with the life he’d chosen, he’d never wanted to fail his grandmother, though deep down inside, he knew he had. Gram had loved him anyway. Now, no matter what, he knew he couldn’t let his daughter down.

      “Theo? Are you all right?” Ellie’s voice, husky with sleep, startled him. Her bright blue eyes were fixed on him, though still groggy with sleep.

      “I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said, feeling surprisingly awkward. “I brought you lunch.”

      She shifted, sliding back to sit up, careful not to disturb the baby. “Are the hands all fed?”

      “Yep. And I cleaned everything up. Later, I’ll need you to tell me what I need to do to prepare for the evening meal.”

      “I will.” Her heavy-lidded gaze slid past him to the tray. “But right now I’m famished. Would you mind taking Amelia so I can eat?”

      “Sure.” This time he didn’t hesitate. He figured if he did this often enough, soon he’d be completely comfortable with holding the baby.

      The transfer could have been awkward, but Theo just held out his arms and let Ellie take care of it.

      “I’ve got her,” he said, half smiling, barely noticing as Ellie moved to take the bowl of chili from the tray and begin eating with a quiet and intent efficiency.

      The rumble of his voice caused Amelia’s eyes to open. Colton green. Of course. He’d read somewhere that less than five percent of the world’s population had green eyes.

      “Hi there, little baby,” he crooned, trying not to feel foolish.

      Looking up from her meal, Ellie made a sound.

      “What?” he asked, reluctantly dragging his gaze from the baby.

      “She has a name.” Ellie’s soft voice carried a bit of steel. “Amelia. You don’t have to always call her baby or the infant.”

      “I wasn’t aware I did.” He shrugged, refusing to let a small detail like that bother him, despite what Ellie thought it revealed. “Sorry.”

      Too busy finishing her lunch, Ellie didn’t respond, though he could feel her gaze on him as he gently rocked the baby. Gram Dottie would love Amelia, he knew. Now she just had to get well so they could meet.

      Something of his worry must have shown in his face.

      “Are you all right?” Ellie asked again. “You look... Is something wrong?”

      “Yes.” He took a deep breath, needing to get it off his chest. “My sister called while you were asleep. Gram Dottie collapsed at the clinic.” Despite his best intentions, his voice cracked a little. “The doctors think she has the same thing that killed Mimi Rand. They’ve got her in isolation.”

      “Oh, Theo.” Ellie’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry.”

      He nodded, working really hard to keep his expression neutral. “Gemma says they think it’s some kind of new virus. The CDC is sending a team and they’re even talking about quarantining the entire town.”

      “What?”