“Can You Nurse Him Just for Once”? the Cowboy Pleaded — And the Obese Girl Held the Baby Close

Chapter 4

Thomas returned at sunset, just as he had promised.

The boarding house girls were gathered in the kitchen when he knocked, but they scattered like roaches when Norah appeared at the top of the stairs. She descended slowly, her heart pounding against her ribs.

He stood on the porch, baby in his arms. His daughter looked like a different child. Pink cheeks. Bright eyes. A cry that was strong and demanding.

“She’s hungry again,” he said, and there was wonder in his voice.

Norah glanced back at the girls watching from the shadows, their eyes sharp and judging. She stepped aside anyway.

“Come in.”

The whispers started immediately. “Second time today. This is completely improper. She’s practically throwing herself at him.”

Norah led Thomas upstairs again, each step heavier under the weight of their stares. In her room, she nursed the baby while Thomas sat on the floor, his back against the wall, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face.

“I need to ask you something,” he said quietly.

Norah looked up.

“Come to my ranch. Just for a few weeks. Until she’s stronger. I’ll pay you proper wages. Give you your own room.”

Norah’s hands stilled.

“I can’t do this alone anymore,” Thomas continued, his voice cracking. “Riding here twice a day. The ranch is falling apart. I haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since Sarah died.” His voice broke on his wife’s name. “I need help. Not just with Grace. With everything.”

Norah looked down at the baby nursing contentedly, her tiny fingers curled against Norah’s skin.

“The town will talk,” she said.

“They already are. It’ll get worse.”

“I don’t care what they say anymore.” Thomas leaned forward, his eyes intense. “My wife died because this town decided I wasn’t worth helping. They can think whatever they want. I’m asking you, Norah. Will you come?”

She thought about her attic room. The mocking. The loneliness. The way she had to duck her head every time she walked through the boarding house doors, trying to make herself smaller, trying to disappear.

She thought about having nowhere else to go.

“I’ll come.”

Thomas’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

The next morning, Norah packed her small bag. One extra dress. Her mother’s hairbrush. A Bible that had seen better days. The boarding house girls lined the hallway like vultures as she came downstairs.

“Going to play house with the angry rancher?” one of them sneered. “He’ll send you back within a week. Fat girls always get sent back.”

The matron appeared from the kitchen, her face hard. “You’re leaving, then?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You owe three months’ room and board. Fifty dollars.”

Norah’s stomach dropped. She had forgotten about the debt. “I’ll pay it when I can.”

“You’ll pay it now, or you’ll stay until it’s worked off.”

Thomas appeared in the doorway, baby in his arms. “How much does she owe?”

The matron’s eyes gleamed with triumph. “Fifty dollars.”

Thomas pulled out his wallet without hesitation. Counted bills. Handed them over. “Sixty. That covers her debt and compensates you for the inconvenience.”

The matron stared at the money, her mouth hanging open. Thomas turned to Norah, his hand extended.

“You’re free. Let’s go.”

Outside, a wagon waited. Thomas helped Norah up — his hands firm on her waist, no hesitation, no flinch — then handed her the baby before climbing up himself. As they rolled away, Norah heard the girls’ voices fading behind them.

“Did he just pay her debt? Sixty dollars for her? Maybe he really is desperate.”

The wagon rolled through town. People stared. Whispers followed them like a shadow.

“They’re going to make your life difficult,” Norah said quietly.

Thomas’s jaw tightened. “They already did. The day they let my wife die.”

They rode in silence for a while. The town fell away behind them, replaced by open fields and rolling hills. The air smelled different out here. Cleaner. Freer.

“The ranch isn’t much,” Thomas said finally. “It’s messy. I haven’t had time to keep up with things.”

“I can help with that.”

He glanced at her. “I’m hiring you to nurse Grace. Not clean my house.”

“I know.” She kept her eyes on the road ahead. “But I need to feel useful for more than just my body.”

Thomas nodded slowly, understanding flickering in his eyes. The ranch appeared over the hill — bigger than Norah had expected, with clean fences and a sturdy barn. But as they got closer, she saw the truth. Laundry piled on the porch. Garden overgrown. Chickens running loose everywhere. The ranch was dying slowly, neglected by grief.

Thomas saw her looking. “I know it’s bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s grief.”

He pulled the wagon to a stop and looked at her, really looked at her. “Your room is off the kitchen. It was the hired hand’s room. It has a lock on the inside.”

“Thank you.”

Inside, the house was chaos. Dishes stacked everywhere. Dust on every surface. Baby things scattered across the main room. But underneath the mess, Norah could see the bones were good. Strong wood. Big windows. A stone fireplace that would be warm in winter.

Thomas showed her to her room. Small, but clean. A real bed. A window overlooking the pasture.

“It’s perfect,” Norah said.

That evening, after nursing Grace, Norah couldn’t help herself. She washed the dishes. Swept the floors. Folded the laundry that was piled on the table. Thomas came in from feeding the horses and stopped in the doorway.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. You hired me for Grace.” Norah kept folding. “I need to work. It’s the only thing that keeps me from thinking about my daughter.”

Thomas picked up a rag and started drying dishes beside her. They worked in silence, side by side. When the kitchen was clean, he made coffee and set a cup in front of her without asking.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You’re good at this. Taking care of things.”

“My mother taught me. Before she died.”

“And your husband?”

Norah’s hands stilled on her coffee cup. “He taught me that not all men are kind.”

Thomas went quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s over now. He’s gone.”

They sat in comfortable silence as darkness fell outside. Grace slept in her cradle between them, her tiny chest rising and falling with steady, even breaths. For the first time since Sarah died, Thomas’s house didn’t feel empty. For the first time since her baby died, Norah felt like she belonged somewhere.

Outside, the ranch settled into evening quiet. Inside, three broken people began to heal.