My eyes flew open for the fourth time that night, a sigh lasped from my lips and I slowly sat up. Lying beside me was my mate, how he could sleep was a mystery to me. Swinging my eyes to the left, I saw the dark silhouette of the crib that the cries were coming from. The baby in the crib was mine, he was only three weeks old. Pushing the sheets from me and swinging my legs from the bed, I got up slowly, sleepily and nearly fell from exhaustion. I hadn't had an ounce of sleep since the baby had been born, I wasn't the only one in the house that the baby had kept up at night.
"Hey, hey," I said in a whisper. "quiet now."
Looking in the creib, the baby was waving all four of his arms all over the place. He hadn't figured out how to make them go in the same direction, at times the top set would fly to the side or to the front while the other set would go the other ways. He had nearly hit his father in the face doing that. My son was wearing just a diaper, somehow he'd always get out of the shirts that had been bought for him so both me and Six Shooter had decided to forgo them until he was a little older. It was hard to hold the baby. He was pretty squirmy, he wouldn't stop moving. One time his father had nearly dropped him after he had picked him up from his crib, that had pissed me off until it had happened to me an hour later.
"Hey now hear me," I said, tired and aggravated. "it's sleep time, not food time..."
"If you don't shut that brat up in five minutes I will!"
Taking a quick breath, I slowly turned my head and from the corner of my eye I saw his uncle standing in the doorway. Torch was wearing a red robe, either it had black flames on the bottom or smoke, one or the other. The room was very dark so his lit up eyes were very noticeable, they made him look very menacing. Swallowing hard, a pinch of fear clouding me, I put my hands into the crib and picked my son up.
"He's just hungry." I said to myself, my eyes closed.
"Then feed the brat!" Torch snarled. "I'm tired of being woke up in the wee hours of the night by the brat."
"Yes Torch." I said quickly.
I didn't want Torch to know it, but at times I really did get scared of him. He was a hothead with a temper and a flamethrower that he knew how to use well. Right now my fear had switched from me being afraid for myself but for my baby. I didn't feel like having a fried baby just weeks old on my hands. Pulling my son to my shoulder, one hand on him firmly as he was trying to push himself from me, I walked past Torch towards the stairs. When I was three steps down I looked back, Torch was walking back to his room, slowly.
"Okay baby," I said to him when I walked into the kitchen. "lets try some baby food, again."
I didn't want to admit it to Six Shooter, but my breasts were stressed out to a T. Since our son's birth he had not touched a single spoonful of baby food, he'd snap his lips shut whenever I'd bring the spoon up. If I did get any of the stuff in him, it was a sure bet that it wouldn't go down to his belly. He'd look at me, smile and then spit it up. He did the same with formula, he wouldn't suck on the nipple, whenever he did have some in his mouth he's spit it up and start crying, loud! Pulling the baby from my shoulder, I quickly snapped him into his baby chair and turned around, my foot slammed into the corner of the counter and I yelled.
"As if I don't have enough with that brat crying now I have to yell at you for yelling at three in the fucking morning!"
Looking at the kitchen doorway, I waited to see if Torch was going to walk in. He didn't so I supposed that he had his door open and had roared really loud. Shaking my head, I turned back to the cabinet and pulled out a jar of peas. Six Shooter had bought a good lot of the brand that his son was to eat, Gerber. Thinking twice, I put that jar back and pulled another out, this time carrots.
"Okay Four Way," I said to the baby gently. "we're gonna try this again."
Taking the food out of the microwave, it was warm but not warm enough to hurt his mouth, I opened the lid and put in a spoon, when I pulled it out I smiled, I thought that if my son saw me smile he'd take the food and not spit it up. I was wrong. When the spoon came up to an inch from his mouth he clamped shut and shook his head. Rolling my eyes I pulled the spoon back and when he opened his mouth I tried again, with no go.
"Now come on," I said, aggravated. "your father spent good money on this, he would not be pleased if he knew that you wasn't eating it."
I forgot how much Six Shooter had spent on all of the stuff that he had bought for the baby, somewhere over four hundred dollars I believe, all of the stuff was expensive and I had tried to talk him from buying some of it, to no avail. Once the man had had something on his mind, it was hard to change it. Besides the play pen, which the baby was put in a lot, he had bought a baby swing and a walker, the baby swing Four Way Shot liked a lot but the walker he would not be able to use until he was seven or eight months old.
"Come on," I said, stamping my foot down and grimacing in pain. "eat at least a quarter of this and I'll be happy."
When I had one spoonful of carrots in his mouth I nearly did a happy dance, nearly. After ten seconds he smiled then spit everything in his mouth out, all over me. Grabbing the towel from the ring under the sink, I wiped my face and glared, madly, at my son who was slapping two of his four hands against the tray. Frowning and sighing angrily, I quickly cleaned myself up then sat down beside him, taking my shirt off. My breasts hurt, so what my brain told me, my son wouldn't eat baby food or drink formula but he sure did like the natural milk, he rarely spit it up.
The baby was fast asleep in my arms ten minutes later, I had remembered to pat him on his back while he fed, I had heard that you was suppose to while an infant was feeding to reduce him or her from spitting whatever went in. It seemed to work, three weeks into his life and he had only spit up my natural milk twice and that was when I hadn't patted him on the back. With my son on my shoulder, one hand on his back to keep him there, I used the other to put the food that he had not ate on the counter, I was too sleepy to put it back in the cabinet. When that was done I left the kitchen, and walked into Torch who was standing right by the bottom step, it looked like he had had his head to the wall the entire time.
"Spying on me while I feed my son eh." I said, I laughed a little.
"Waiting on you to get your ass out of there so I can get something in my stomach." he snarled.
Shrugging my shoulders, my eyelids were dropping, I was tired and from what I saw on the clock it said it was nearly four thirty at night. Climbing the stairs slowly, one hand on the banister and the other on my baby, I reached the door to me and Six Shooter's room a few minutes later, it felt like forever, my foot was hurting from when I had slammed it on the corner of the counter. Pushing the door in and taking a step into the room, I nearly fell with exhaustion. Using all the strength I had left in me, I walked to the crib and layed the baby in it. When I turned around, I dropped to the floor, where I fell asleep.
"Hey..." I heard being whispered in my ear. "hey thar, wake up."
Picking my head up from the floor, my arm must have acted as the pillow as my head was resting on it, Six Shooter was kneeling down beside me, wearing barely anything but his underwear. Pushing myself up, the first thing I thought was my son. Turning my head to the side, I looked at the crib. Four Way Shot was awake, two of his hands were around the bars to the crib, he looked to be saying that he wanted out. Six Shooter grabbed my chin gently in his hand and pulled it back, so that I was looking at him.
"Hard night?" he asked.
"He kept both me and Torch up." I replied.
"He a-was cryin' like crazy when I woke up darlin'." Six Shooter said. "I done took him down an' fed him good a-fore I woke ye up."
Six Shooter's words range through my head for a few minutes, Four Way Shot wouldn't take my milk by a bottle, and he wouldn't drink formula or eat the baby food that his father had fed him. Shaking my head, I sat up and staring, confused at Six Shooter for a minute and a half. He smoothed his hand over my forehead, pushing the strand of hair that constantly fell into my eyes back.
"You fed him?" I asked him.
"Yeah, he done et a good half jar o' that carrot stuff that a-was out on the counter." Six Shooter replied.
Sighing loudly, I pushed myself up to my feet, Four Way Shot giggled and rattled his crib, there was a rattle in his crib but as far as I could tell it was never used or played with. When I took a step towards the bed pain ran up my leg. Clamping my teeth on my lips to stop yelling, I sat down quickly and looked down. My foot looked a mess, a very long gash to the side and two of the toes, the little and the toe beside it, were dark colored. Six Shooter made a gasping sound and went to the bathroom, when he came out he had some bandages and some cleaning solutions in his hands.
"How'd ye do that darlin'?" he asked.
"Last night," I said, hands clinched on the beds mattress. "while trying to feed your son."
"How?" Six Shooter asked.
"Slammed my foot into the edge of the counter." I said. "I was tired and it was dark so I wasn't paying attention."
"Make shur he do next time Sugar," the cowboy said. "I a-don't like seein' ye in pain, ye know that."
When he applied the alcohol to my foot it stung, I had learned to ignore the pain when I was a girl so I didn't pay much mind to it. I was looking at my son wondering if he had given his father any trouble when he had fed him. The baby looked clean, no food around or on his face, his hands clean and it looked like he had a new diaper on. Half smiling, I remembered the small fight me and Six Shooter had had over who'd change the diaper first. I had made a joke about it when the baby had been born, it had come true the next day when he needed changing.
"Did he give you any problems when you was feeding him?" I asked the man in front of me.
"Nah," Six Shooter said. "none at all."
"He didn't spit up anything or clamp his mouth shut when you brought the spoon up to him?" I asked, shocked.
"No problems." Six Shooter replied. "He et fine an' I a-had no problems with him."
"Wow, such a shocker you are Baby!" I squeaked to my son who was looking at me.
"Ain't no shock to it darlin'," he laughed.
"Yes it is," I yawned. "he spits up baby food and formula whenever I give it to him."
"I s'pose he a-changes fer me as I's his pa."
I was surprised, I had thought that the baby never ate the food and now I was being told that he did. My mind was spinning, I wondered if the baby also took the formula from his father. Rolling my eyes for the second time that morning, after Six Shooter was done bandaging the cut on my foot I stood up and got changed from the shirt that I was wearing into a blue button up with light blue stitching and blue jeans, my boots were down in the kitchen and my hat was on the hook by the bathroom. The sun came in through the window and lit everything up, Six Shooter's room had become a mess after the baby had been born. Since Four Way Shot's room was not ready for him yet, Six Shooter and I had decided to let him sleep in our room, he estimated that it'd be another two weeks, really from what I saw it looked like it'd be a full month before the baby's room would be complete. It needed painting on the walls, the carpet was a mess and there was no furniture in it, just a bare room with paint cans and a small ladder.
"So what are you going to do today Sixy, baby?" I asked, I liked using that name as a tease to him and he hated it.
"Same ol', same ol'." Six Shooter said. "An' it's Tex, not Sixy."
"Sure it is." I giggled.
It turned out that I had had enough sleep to keep me going for the morning. Four Way Shot fell asleep three times, when he wasn't asleep he's be put in the pen with a baby holder behind his back to hold him up, a few of the toys that Six Shooter had bought had his attention, the two that he loved that he had gotten from me were the two stuffed horses that I had brought here when I had moved in. I figured it was time to give them over to my son, being a little too old for them myself. Four Way Shot, it looked, would run his hands through the hair on the necks, the hair on the tails, like he was grooming them, and I had caught him sleeping on the bay one time.
"Hey Torch," I said when I walked past the man who was standing at the fridge.
"Yeah, what about it!" he snarled.
"Huh?" I asked, confused. "I said hello."
"Hey, what the hells going on with you, goodbye."
I could tell that the man was cranky from getting hardly any sleep last night so I left him alone for the rest of the morning. Reaching into the fridge, I grabbed the bacon. It was ten, still time to make breakfast and enough to time digest until lunch time ran through. Turning around, I grabbed a frying pan and set it down on the stove. Opening the bacon, I took about a quarter from it.
"Little late for breakfast," Torch growled. "you know."
"Enough time to make some bacon," I said back. "I'm not making eggs or anything else."
"Make me some then," Torch grumbled. "I'm hungry."
"Isn't hot enough outside to cook bacon on the sidewalk?" I asked.
"Not yet and I'm not going to cook outside where ants could wander onto my food."
I laughed inside, I had put my fear aside for now to joke around with Torch some. Beside the temper, he and I got along well, in secret I liked him a lot, I had a crush on him. To me, not only was he hot, I thought he was a cutie. Course I didn't want to tell him this, reaching into the bacon's package, I pulled out the other quarter.
"Half for you and half for me." I said to my friend.
"Yeah yeah," Torch said sleepily. "if I fall asleep knock me over."
"Will do." I laughed.
"You better not!" Torch growled. "If I fall asleep just leave me alone until the food's on a plate in front of me."
"Will do." I repeated, serious this time.
When I placed the plate with the bacon on it in front of Torch I thought the smell would wake him up, when it didn't I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and gently shook it. When his eyes lit up, bright as can be, I took a step back. Sticking some of the bacon in my mouth, I started chewing. It seemed, at that exact moment, Four Way Shot decided to cry.
"Oh he picks the right moment to start crying." I said jokingly.
"Yeah," Torch said, he was engulfed with his bacon and wasn't really paying attention.