She switches the baby to the other breast, stroking his head lightly to wake him so he latches on sleepily. He sleeps in a bassinet beside their bed, so she wouldn't have to come in here to nurse, but she likes the slow sliding movement of the rocking chair Art and Faylene gave them and she wants the baby to get used to the nursery.
"This is your room," she says, soft. "There's your crib. See the horseys?" She points to the mobile dangling above. "That's from Daddy's friend Rachel. You're a lucky boy. You've got lots of people who love you. Yes, you do." She rubs a finger along his cheek as he continues to suckle.
"You're gettin' pretty good at that, Mama," Raylan says. She looks up to see him leaning in the nursery doorway, smiling at them.
"What're you doing up?" Her words are followed by an inescapable yawn. She's tired to her bones. The baby is up every three or four hours demanding attention, usually the kind only she can provide. She hasn't had time to master the breast pump Gayle provided so that Raylan could relieve her of some of the work.
"Doesn't seem gentlemenly to roll over and go back to sleep when you don't have a choice."
"You can't sleep, can you?" She says. He's always been a lousy sleeper and being off work puts him at loose ends.
"Nah, I'm wide-awake now."
Her eyes flick down to their son, who fortunately doesn't seem to share his daddy's insomnia. He's obviously done with his early breakfast. She shifts the sleeping infant to her shoulder, buttoning up the front of her gown with the other hand.
"Here," Raylan is at her side in two long strides, reaching down for the baby. "I'll take him." They make the transfer and he cradles the baby against his chest as she uses both hands to push carefully up from the rocker, wincing with the effort. She's still sore, but getting up and down is the worst. Her abdominal muscles hurt more than anything, as if she did a million sit-ups.
She steps in close and tips her head up for a kiss. He obliges, his lips soft on hers. "Mornin'," he murmurs.
"Morning. What time is it?" She asks, stifling another yawn.
"A little after five," he says. "Like I said, I'm not goin' back to sleep. Why don't you rest for awhile? I got some things to take care of this morning and I'm supposed to have lunch with Art, but I won't leave until Gayle gets here."
She rolls her eyes at him. He's been hovering, hardly letting either her or the baby out of his sight, and while it's surprisingly sweet, it's starting to get on her nerves. She can't quite believe it, but she's actually glad he's heading down to Harlan today to take care of the last of Arlo's business. It will give her a chance to breathe.
"I can be alone with him for a little while, Raylan. It's alright."
"I guess it would be good to get an early start, beat the traffic through town."
"Go," she says. "Take a shower and get out of here. I'll get a nap in later. I'm learning to sleep when he does."
"Alright," he nods and gives her another quick kiss as he passes the baby back to her. "I shouldn't be late. I'll keep my cell on and you call me if you..."
"Raylan, we'll be fine. Women do this everyday," she reminds him. She plants her free hand on his chest and gives a little shove. "Go."
He laughs. "Okay, I'm goin'."
-o-o-O-o-o-
Twinkling Christmas lights of red and green frame the door of the bar. Raylan pushes it open and walks in, blinking as his eyes adjust to the dimness. A bedraggled Christmas tree leans in one corner, a dozen tacky ornaments hanging on its sparse branches, and a gaudy silver and gold garland adorns the bar. "I can see you've spared no expense with the decorations. All you need is the fuzzy red hat and you'd be a dead-ringer for Santa himself," Raylan calls out to the tall man behind the bar.
"My beard's not white enough," Johnny drawls, leaning forward across the bar. ""What're you doin' down here? Heard you just had a baby. Delivered it yourself and all from what they're sayin'. The legend of Raylan Givens just keeps gettin' bigger." He winks.
Raylan sighs, but remains silent, amazed at how the intimate details of his life have already made it to Harlan in a short two-week's time.
"Congratulations, by the way." Johnny pours a shot of his best Woodbridge, sliding it to Raylan, and another for himself.
"Thanks," Raylan says. He raises the glass to Johnny's with a soft clink and swallows down the smooth as silk whiskey, closing his eyes briefly to savor the burn. "I'm still off the clock. Had to sign some papers for Arlo's estate, what there is of it. Wanted to drop in and run somethin' by you."
Johnny raises an eyebrow. "Shoot."
"Don't I remember Ava havin' some cousins down in West Virginia?"
Johnny rubs his fingers across his chin. "They'd be on her daddy's side if she did. Her mama's from around these parts." He takes another sip of his drink. "Ava's daddy had him a sister, I do know that. She came to visit once after her brother ran off on Ava's mama. Had herself a couple of kids. Can't remember her married name though. Why you askin'?"
"What about Boyd? Any Crowders over that way you know of?"
Johnny takes his time answering, wiping down the bar. "There's some Crowders in Delbarton. That's right across the state line, but there's more in Virginia." He pulls a lime out from under the counter and starts slicing it. "My daddy had cousins in Roseville and I think over around Dungannon, too."
He tosses the lime sections into a bowl and raises the whiskey bottle to pour another shot but Raylan lays a hand over the glass. "No thanks, it's a long drive back." He leans an elbow on the bar. "Your daddy or Bo close with any of those cousins?"
"I get it," Johnny chuckles. "You're thinkin' Boyd's hidin' out with some long lost relative." He shakes his head. "I don't think so. More'n likely he 'n Ava are in Mexico by now."
Raylan mulls over Johnny's words. He narrows his eyes, studying the other man from under the hat. It wouldn't be the first time Johnny played both sides against the middle. "Mexico, huh?" He keeps his tone light. "You know somethin' I don't know?"
Johnny's eyes shift down slightly before he meets Raylan's gaze, and with a sinking feeling Raylan is certain his instincts are correct. A year ago he'd have drawn his gun and been over the bar at this point, but now he takes a deep breath, placing his hands flat on the bar and leveling a killer stare at his old friend. "So, you're standing there on two feet, pain-free courtesy of the U.S. Marshal Service, and you're tellin' me you've had contact with Boyd and you haven't reported it."
"I'm reportin' it now," Johnny says, tossing the bar rag over his shoulder. "Ain't I?"
-o-o-O-o-o
"So," Art says between bites of his Reuben. "Boyd and Ava are in Mexico?"
Raylan shrugs, pushing the cold fries around on his plate. "All Johnny knows is that's where they were headed."
Art swipes a stray piece of sauerkraut from the edge of his mouth with his napkin. "How long's he been in contact with Boyd?"
"I have no idea. Shit!" Raylan pounds a fist on the table. The dishes rattle and the waitress shoots them a worried look, hurrying over with coffee pot raised.
She shifts nervously from one foot to another, her shoes squeaking on the diner's ancient linoleum floor. "Can I get you gentlemen anything else?"
Art waves her off. "We're fine."
"I wanted to believe Johnny was on our side, so I did," Raylan snorts. "My instincts should've told me better."
"Maybe they were talking but you weren't listening." Art raises an eyebrow but the eye underneath is twinkling. "Look, Raylan...if Boyd comes back, Johnny is still under obligation to the U.S. Government to testify against him for Devil's murder. If we have to we can subpoena him and force the issue. I know you're feelin' burned, but you really haven't been, not yet." He digs his wallet out of his jacket pocket. "I've got this." He picks up the check and eases out of the booth.
Raylan shrugs into his jacket and throws a couple of bucks on the table for a tip before following his boss.
Johnny probably feels a lot safer thinkin' Boyd is south of the border," Art says, pocketing his change.
The two men look at each other. "Son of a bitch," Raylan says. "That'd be just like Boyd to double back and take care of things while Johnny's got his guard down."
"Or send someone to do it for him." Art nods slowly.
"I'd better head back down to Harlan and warn..." Raylan's hand hovers above the door handle.
"You aren't going anywhere," Art says, pulling out his cell phone. "You are on paternity leave until after the first of the year." He shakes his head at his most frustrating marshal. "You've obviously forgotten in the sleepless daze of your new fatherhood that I strictly forbid you from bein' on the Harlan end of things in this case. I'll get Lou down there to keep an eye on Johnny."
"But..." Raylan starts.
"No buts. You. Go. Home," Art says the words slowly, as if talking to a child. "Lou will handle things. Hell, he'll probably be happy to have somewhere to spend the holiday."
"I guess that's even better," Raylan allows himself to admit. "Maybe they have a very special Christmas episode of American Hoggers. Johnny'll hate that."
"No less than he deserves. Merry Christmas, Raylan." Art slaps him on the back. "Go on home and spend some more time with Winona and little Lucas Arthur."
Raylan grins. "You gonna use his middle name whenever you talk to him? Poor kid's gonna think he's always in trouble."
"Like father like son." Art says, but he's smiling.
-o-o-O-o-o-
Waking slowly from her nap, Winona stretches under the quilt. With a start, she glances into the bassinet, but the baby isn't there. Resisting the urge to run searching for him, she goes to the bathroom and splashes some water on her face and runs a brush through her hair. It seems like forever since she's had a moment to herself. "Now I remember. This is a lot easier with two hands," she tells her reflection, laughing softly.
Back in the bedroom she slips back into her jeans, pulls her favorite soft blue sweater on over her shirt, and makes her way down the hall to the family room.
She smiles when she spies them on the couch. Her two boys are both asleep, Luke pinned against Raylan's chest by one broad hand. ESPN is on the television and the bottle of breast milk Gayle helped her pump, empty now, sits on the table, right beside an empty beer bottle. Tiptoeing quietly past, she grabs the camera from the bookshelf and kneels to get a better angle. Luckily, there's enough afternoon light from the family room window that she doesn't need to use the flash. She manages to snap several shots without waking them. She's clicking through to look at the pictures, happy with the results, when Raylan stirs and stretches, yawning.
"Hey," he mumbles.
"Hey yourself. Did you have a nice nap?"
He smiles without opening his eyes. "Yes, did you?" He pulls his feet in and she fits herself into the space on the end of the couch, leaning against his legs.
"I can't believe I slept for..." she glances at the clock on the fireplace mantle. "...four hours. When did you get home?"
"Gayle said you'd just laid down, but you were already dead to the world. I grabbed him so he wouldn't fuss and wake you up. We came out here and watched some football until he got hungry. She showed me where the bottles were and how to heat 'em up, so he had a snack and I had a beer..."
"And then you took a nap, too."
"We did. Looks like someone is still nappin'."
"I hope he wakes up soon," Winona says, shifting uncomfortably. "I need to nurse."
As if on cue, little Luke stirs, blinking and crinkling his forehead. His mouth works for a minute before he whimpers and Winona reaches for him, tucking him into her arm and opening her shirt. Raylan shifts to sit beside them, throwing a long arm around her shoulder, watching.
"Are you hungry? Gayle brought lasagna. It's in the fridge."
"Sounds good."
An hour or so later Winona pushes her empty plate away and takes a long swallow from the bottle of beer. "God, I missed this," she says, waving it at him before setting it down on the table.
Raylan looks across at her skeptically. "You sure it's okay to have that while you're nursin'?"
"Yes, Raylan," she sighs. "The doctor said it's fine. It can even help with milk production, and since Luke just nursed before we ate, the alcohol will be out of my system by the time he's hungry again."
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, then, drink your beer," he chuckles, taking a sip of his own. "How was your day?"
"It was good. I think I've got the hang of pumping, so we can share the middle-of-the-night duty, a little anyway."
"That's good," he says, helping himself to a second piece of lasagna. "You can get more sleep."
"You're awfully hungry," she notes. "Didn't you meet Art for lunch?"
He chews a bite and drains the bottle of beer. "Yeah, but I was too wound up to eat much."
"What's going on? Something with the estate?" She leans forward, elbows on the table, giving him all of her attention for the first time in days.
"No, just more shit with Boyd and Johnny."
"I thought you said Boyd and Ava were gone."
"They were - are - I think, but I needed to ask Johnny some questions so I stopped by the bar." He gets up from the table and grabs another beer from the fridge, twisting the cap off and taking a long swallow. "Johnny's been in contact with Boyd and he didn't tell me. He seems to think they're headed to Mexico, but..." he shakes his head, flipping the bottle cap between his fingers. "You aren't interested in this work stuff."
She rests her chin in one hand. "Do I look bored?"
His brow furrows as he considers something. "No, but..."
"Raylan," she reaches across the table, covering his hand with hers. "If we're going to be partners in this marriage, real partners, you have to share with me, even things you think I won't like."
"You're startin' to sound just like Henry," he smirks.
"I know. Just trust me, okay? I'm not going to run off because you went down to Harlan and talked to someone." She raises an eyebrow and the corners of her mouth turn up. "No one got shot, right?"
"No" he sighs. "Not yet, anyway."
A nudge of worry pokes her, but she manages to keep the hint of a smile on her face. "But you're worried about Johnny. Isn't he in protective custody?"
"He was. But he wasn't takin' it all that seriously. Kept givin' this old marshal Art uses sometimes the slip. I told him to go on back to Harlan, so he did."
"And now you think Boyd is gonna come after him and you're going to lose your chance to get Boyd for murdering that guy Arlo took the fall for."
"Well, I'll be damned. You have been listenin'." He shoots her a grin and takes another long drink. "That about sums it up. And Art'll have nothin' to do with me goin' down to Harlan...so..." he lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I guess it's outta my hands."