CHAPTER ONE

Through the window, the rays of dawn's awakening striped the morning air and splattered against the walls of the bedroom. Tiny specks of dust puttered through the shafts of light and danced their way to the ground, and through the peaceful stillness came the hushed sounds of three hearts beating as one.

How many hours did I spend, trapped in Findley's mine, convincin' myself to breathe? Just one more, just one more. Hoss's chest rose slowly and honeysuckle flooded his lungs, a soothing balm against his bruised and broken ribs. He tented his fingers and rested his chin along the peak. Some days, breathin' didn't seem worth the pain. And now . . . He exhaled and shifted in the plump, overstuffed chair, hoping to ease the lingering aches and twinges. The new position failed to lessen his discomfort, and he grasped the chair's armrests and pushed himself forward, the added tension wearing on his battered wrists and tender arm muscles. Sighing softly, a smile of contentment appeared on his scabbed lips. I didn't think I'd ever enjoy quiet like this again, not after all that time listenin', hopin' to hear somethin', someone. And now . . . now my life's all about listenin' again. But this time, I'm listenin' for . . .

The high-pitched gurgle caught him by surprise. His blue eyes sparkled, welling with happy tears that as of late flowed freely from his heart to his eyes. "Hush, little one," he whispered as he slid his bandage-wrapped hands beneath the blankets, "your mama's still sleepin'." Drawing the fragile bundle into the shelter of his arms and chest, Hoss tingled inside – a cherished feeling he'd accepted as natural from the moment when, just three days ago, he'd been blessed with his newborn child.

He grinned as the baby's nose wrinkled and a yawn forced its way through silky, pink lips, and he marveled at the chubby fingers as they stretched stiffly and then quickly curled into tight little fists, one pressing against a milky white cheek, the other against a soft, knitted blanket. With one finger, Hoss stroked the fine, blond hair atop the tiny head and grinned with delight when sapphire blue eyes opened and gazed up at him. "Hello, little one," he cooed quietly as his thumb caressed the plump cheek. "Didja have a good morning nap?"

The baby wrapped four healthy fingers and one strong thumb around Hoss's long, calloused finger. Rising slowly from his chair, Hoss took care to move softly and gently, and he walked to the bedroom's east window to stand in the warmth of the morning sun. "Ever since I kin remember," he whispered, "my hands've been big. Real big. Everythin' about me has always been big." His face flushed and his pulse pounded in his ears. "I didn't understand it, but for a long time, I didn't have many friends - just your Uncle Adam and then your Uncle Joe when he came along. Me bein' so big 'n' all, I reckon most of the other children were . . . well . . ."

He swallowed the knot clogging his throat, then bent his head and gently kissed the baby's forehead. "I wouldn't want you to ever . . . I hope you ain't . . . ." His voice wavered against the strength of his vow. "I promise, you ain't never ever gotta be afraid of me. I'm your pa." The words released his tears and they trailed down his radiant face. The baby's grasp loosened and the tiny, wriggling legs and stiffening arms brought about a soft gurgle from rosy lips. "That's right," he said proudly. "I ain't never gonna hurt ya. I'll protect ya always. I'm your pa."

The bundle squirmed again, its feet pressing against the crook in Hoss's arm. "My, my," he whispered, "you sure are a feisty little one. Just like your mama." An arm broke free from the blanket, and Hoss stroked the pale, silky forearm with his finger. "I still cain't believe it. Every time I blink, I expect to wake up 'n' find this is all a dream. A real, good dream. Not like them what's been visitin' me at night ever since . . ." Hoss's voice grew warm as he hugged the baby closely. "Bein' here, holdin' you, well, it's a dream come true - your mama 'n' you."

"We're real, Hoss. We aren't a dream."

At the sound of her voice, Hoss's features glazed over with rosy contentment. He opened his mouth to speak, the simple words in his mind filling his heart with endless joy. "Mornin', Mrs. Cartwright." Her name flowed sweetly from his lips and his eyes rested on the baby in his arms, as if the two were one in the same. "The little one's been awake for a while." Making his way to the bedside, he sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress and smiled. "We've been havin' us a nice little chat."

Amanda's eyes glistened as she stretched her arms from beneath the moss green quilt. She rolled to her side and reached for his knee, and a touch of concern washed over her face and flowed into her voice. "Chatting about happy dreams, I suppose?"

Hoss shivered at her touch and his heart skidded before settling back into rhythm. "Yeah," he whispered. "We've been talkin' about you 'n' me, here in this room, in this house . . ."

The baby's thin lips twisted and puckered, surrendering to a momentary gasp that ended in the throes of a newborn's hungry cry. Hoss chuckled softly, brushing his finger gently along the child's chin.

Amanda's breasts tingled and she slid along the mattress, settling into the plush pillows along the headboard. Holding the squirming baby securely against his chest, Hoss began the comfortable routine of the past two days, reaching for Amanda's robe and draping it across her. Their eyes met, and he waited patiently as she loosened the ribbons of her gown. "Hoss?" she whispered, her arms outstretched.

He glanced at the baby and marveled at the tiny fists kneading against hungry lips. "Are ya sure, Mandy?"

Amanda sat forward, reached up, and caressed her husband's cheek. Her hand trailed down his face and along his neck, coming to rest, open-palmed, against his heart. "The only thing more fulfilling than nursing our child is having you here to share in the miracle."

The awkward newness of their intimacy seemed to evaporate as her words blanketed him. His eyes locked with hers and as she drew their child to her breast, Hoss lay down next to her, watchful to hide the grimace brought about by his broken ribs. Carefully, he edged closer, his hand resting alongside her arm, and as she hummed softly, Hoss wondered at the perfection before him.