No amount of lifesaving measures worked.
I’d finally stared down at Winifred’s lifeless eyes as I held our child and realized it was all on me. This was the reason my life had turned inside out. Why I’d had to lose everything. It was because this moment was coming. I had to figure things out, and take care of our daughter. Keep her safe. Keep her happy. Be her father.
Abigail Winifred Mason wasn’t full-term; she truly was early and needed to be transported to Houston for care for the first few weeks. It was terrifying, and out of my control, and humbling.
And the reason I went to Winifred’s grave every week with Abigail, and sometimes without her, was to silently apologize for my doubt and for not being the husband she needed in her most frightening moment. To tell her about the child she never got to see. I might not have loved my wife, but she gave me an incredible gift that I never knew I wanted. I could swallow my resentment to give her at least that.
Abigail had had a rough start, but my little firecracker was tougher than her petite little frame showed. At just under four and a half years old, she never met a stranger, and had her mother’s strong confidence, albeit rooted in grace and sweetness instead of greed. That’s why I worried for her. She didn’t care for crowds, but she’d talk to anyone, and trusted everyone.
And had already made a friend in Josie Bancroft.
Damn it.
I even doubted that Josie had wanted to be her friend. Hell, she’d probably tried to leave the library fifty times once she realized who was in there, but Abigail had that way.
My eyes drifted to where I knew Josie was talking to an older gentleman, a permanent smile affixed to her face as she tilted her head, pretending fascination in whatever he was saying. I knew it was pretending because she wouldn’t smile like that, unmoving, not speaking her mind. Josie was animated when she spoke, her whole body coming alive in mesmerizing motion. Or she had been, five years ago.
She didn’t even show repulsion when the man—who at second glance I realized was someone I once knew and was a lecherous cad even back then—unabashedly appreciated the view of her perfect cleavage to the point that I thought he might just dive in.
What was she doing? He was the second old asshole I’d watched her corner since she left me in the library. Again.
I’d mostly given Josie a wide berth since that fateful night. I understood her ire and sense of betrayal that I’d kept the truth from her, but what I never understood was her inability to forgive. I’d attempted twice to see her afterward, wanting to apologize, but her father had turned me away. I didn’t know what she’d told him about us, but he was cooler with me after that night, cooler with everything, actually. As if losing his best friend in my uncle turned off his spark. He was gone, himself, a couple of years later, and then I stopped trying. I wasn’t the only one who had amends to make, after all.
Yes, I was in the wrong, but I’d loved her enough to go to her. She never even tried to come to me. She’d walked away from me in that library and never looked back. What level of love was that?
When the current jackass touched her waist and leered suggestively, I couldn’t take it anymore. I scooped a fresh tumbler of bourbon from a passing tray and headed their way.
“Martin, I’ve brought you a fresh drink,” I said, stepping closely enough to force him back from her several inches. “How are you? It’s been too long.”
It hadn’t been long enough as far as I was concerned. Back when I was working at the Lucky B, Martin LaDeen was a senior ranch hand. A senior with an ax to grind and a lot of mouth, but Mr. Bancroft trusted him. He’d been the only one in the stables who was aware of my role.
I knew my actions were rude, interrupting them, but Josie was here unaccompanied. That alone put a bull’s-eye on her back for unwanted attention, and the way she looked in that dress didn’t help. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I knew damn well what every red-blooded single and married man here was.
“Fine,” he said, blinking in irritation before covering with a tight smile. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“Enjoying the move out of the field?” I asked. “Banking, is it? Or—”
“Oil,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “It’s a massive wave of the future, Mason. You should look hard at it yourself.”
“Got it,” I said, dismissing him. “Miss Bancroft, may I have a quick word?” I asked, not wasting a moment, especially when I saw the fire in her eyes. “Martin, be sure to try the chocolate cake. Theodore assures me it’s divine.”
The words weren’t even all the way out of my mouth before I turned her and guided her off. Three steps and she stopped short. I hadn’t expected anything less.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“I could ask you the same,” I said under my breath. “Do you know—”
“What I know and what I do are none of your business,” she said sharply, covering the vitriol with a polite smile as an older couple passed us. “I’m a grown woman with no attachment to you.”
“Who’s acting like a fool right now?” I said. That wasn’t going to win me any rounds, but winning wasn’t in the cards anyway. “You can’t come in here alone and talk to men like that without it going in a direction you won’t like.”
She blinked at me and shook her head. “Of course. Because men are such spineless, stupid, crotch-ruled creatures that they can’t possibly be held to a higher standard.”
She moved to walk around me, maybe to chase after Martin, I didn’t know. But
