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

Chapter 5

Two weeks passed. Grace thrived. Her cheeks filled out. Her cries grew stronger. She gained weight every day, transforming from a dying scrap of a thing into a healthy, demanding infant.

But Norah noticed everything else.

The chicken coop was falling apart. The hens had scattered everywhere, stressed and not laying. The garden was completely overgrown, weeds choking out any useful plants. The fence near the north pasture sagged dangerously. The barn roof leaked, ruining good hay. Thomas worked from dawn until dark, but he was one man carrying the weight of two people’s work.

One morning, after nursing Grace, Norah went to the chicken coop. It was a disaster. Broken nesting boxes. Rotting straw. No wonder the hens weren’t laying. She found tools in the barn and got to work.

Two hours later, Thomas came looking for her. He stopped in his tracks. Norah was covered in dirt and feathers, hammering new slats into place. The coop was swept clean. Fresh straw everywhere. The hens already looked calmer.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing your coop.”

“I was going to get to that.”

“I know. But you’re one person doing the work of three.” She hammered another nail. “And I’m here. And I know how to work.”

Thomas watched her finish the last repair. “Where did you learn carpentry?”

“My father taught me. Before he died. Before I married a man who told me women shouldn’t touch tools.” She stood and brushed dirt off her dress. “I’m not helpless, Thomas. Just because I’m big doesn’t mean I’m useless.”

Thomas stepped closer. “I never thought you were useless.”

Their eyes met. Something shifted in the air between them — a current, a charge, a recognition.

“The hens will lay again now,” Norah said, her voice quieter than she intended. “You’ll have eggs by tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

She started to walk past him. His hand caught her wrist. Gentle. Not controlling.

“Norah.”

She stopped.

“You don’t owe me this work.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

She looked at his hand on her wrist. Scarred. Calloused. But gentle.

“Because for the first time in my life, someone needs me for more than just my body.” Her voice caught. “You need me because I work. Because I’m capable. Because you see me.”

Thomas’s grip loosened but didn’t let go. “I do see you.”

They stood like that for a long moment, frozen in the golden afternoon light. Then Grace’s cry came from the house, sharp and demanding.

The moment broke.

Thomas released her wrist. “I’ll get her.”

Norah watched him walk away, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

The next day, she tackled the garden. She was on her knees pulling weeds, her hands black with soil, when two men rode up. Ranch hands Thomas had hired to repair fences. They dismounted and walked toward Thomas by the barn.

Norah kept working, but their voices carried.

“Got yourself some help, boss?”

“I do.”

“She’s a big woman. Bet she eats more than she’s worth.”

Laughter.

Thomas went very still. “What did you say?”

The laughter died. “Nothing, boss. Just making conversation.”

“Making conversation about the woman who saved my daughter’s life?”

“We didn’t mean—”

“Get off my land.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Get off my property. Now.”

“Come on, Thomas. We were just joking.”

Thomas stepped closer, his voice dropping to something dangerous. “You insult her on my land. You answer to me. Don’t come back.”

The men looked at each other, then mounted their horses and rode off. Norah stood slowly, her hands shaking. He had defended her. Again.

That evening, Grace spit up milk on Norah’s dress. Her only good dress.

“I’ll help you clean it,” Thomas said. “I have one of Sarah’s old dresses you can wear while it dries.”

They worked together at the wash basin, their hands moving over the fabric. And then their fingers touched. Both froze. Neither pulled away.

Thomas’s thumb brushed across her knuckles. Slow. Deliberate.

“Norah—”

Grace started crying from her cradle.

The moment shattered. Thomas stepped back. “I should get her.”

“Yes.”

That night, unable to sleep, Norah sat on the porch steps. The door opened behind her, and Thomas sat down beside her. Close enough that she could feel his warmth.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“Too much on my mind.”

They sat in comfortable silence, looking up at the stars scattered across the vast dark sky.

“My wife died hating me,” Thomas said suddenly.

Norah turned to him.

“Not really hating me. But she died scared. The midwife wouldn’t come because I’d gotten into a fight with the preacher the week before. He’d said something cruel about Sarah. I lost my temper and hit him.” His voice went hollow. “So when Sarah went into labor, nobody would come. She was in pain for hours, begging me to make it stop. I held her hand and I couldn’t do anything. When Grace finally came, Sarah was already gone.”

He stared at his hands. “Sometimes I think she blamed me in those last moments. For my anger. For making this town hate us enough to let her die.”

Norah took his hand without thinking. “You didn’t kill her. This town did.”

“I should have controlled my temper.”

“And the preacher should have controlled his cruelty.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re not the villain, Thomas.”

Silence settled between them, heavy and healing.

“My husband didn’t die in an accident,” Norah said quietly.

Thomas looked at her.

“He was drunk. Beat his horse because it wouldn’t move. The horse kicked him in the head. Everyone called it a tragedy. But I knew the truth. He beat that horse the same way he beat me.”

She steadied her voice. “Our baby was born a month after he died. Born silent. Blue. The cord was wrapped around her neck. The midwife said it just happens. But I wondered… if all the times he hit me while I was pregnant damaged something inside.”

Thomas turned her face toward him gently. “You didn’t kill your baby. Fate did. But not you.”

“How can you know?”

“Because you saved mine.”

The words broke something open inside her. Tears came, hot and silent, streaming down her face. Thomas pulled her close, and she wept against his chest, all the grief she had been carrying for months finally spilling out.

They sat like that until the stars began to fade. Two broken people learning that they could be whole again. Together.