Mystic Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 6) by Debra Holland

the events of the day, increasing all his helplessness and guilt.
    Something startled him awake. Heart thumping, Caleb grabbed his Winchester and surged to his feet, raising the rifle. With a swift glance to make sure Maggie and Charlotte slept, he surveyed his surroundings.
    Gray dawn light filtered through the trees. He strained to hear any sound, but the blood beating in his ears muffled his hearing. Slowly he pivoted, not seeing or sensing any danger. For the first time, Caleb regretted not spending time learning woodsman skills.
    A bird chirped in a nearby tree, breaking the stillness of the early morning. Surely the bird would be silent if danger threatened. He lowered the rifle, realizing his arms, shoulders, and back ached from carrying Maggie around, as well as the other unaccustomed labor he’d done the previous day.
    This time Caleb took a longer look at the sleeping woman. When his gaze dropped to Charlotte, he was surprised to see the baby’s eyes were open. He moved closer and crouched to gently brush the back of his finger across her cheek. He’d never felt anything so soft.
    Her lips moving, Charlotte turned her face toward his finger.
    Obeying a mad impulse, he slid his hands under the infant’s head and bottom, scooping her from her mother’s arms, making sure to bundle the blanket around her. He brought the baby to his chest, marveling at how tiny she was, and tucked his coat around her to shield her from the chill breeze.
    She made a cooing noise.
    Fearing the baby might wake Maggie when she needed healing sleep, Caleb carried Charlotte with him, climbing up the hill to the road, careful of his footing in the dim light. He walked toward his surrey, the wind at his back, from time-to-time glancing down at the baby to see how she fared.
    Charlotte didn’t seem to mind being taken away from her mother, for she stared at him with wide eyes.
    When he reached the surrey, Caleb climbed into the seat and settled the baby on his lap. The air was warmer inside, for the back of the surrey blocked the breeze. “Yesterday, you didn’t exist in the world, little one, except as a dream of your mother’s,” he told her in a low intimate tone.
    Her blue eyes tracked the sound of his voice. She turned her head.
    It seemed to him that Charlotte already displayed character and personality. She’s her own little person. What had I expected? Probably something more larvalike. The thought made him laugh.
    Caleb continued the conversation that didn’t feel at all one-sided. “If all had gone as planned yesterday, by now, I’d be in Morgan’s Crossing. I would have passed your family’s wagon—barely giving your parents a nod and wondering about the outlandishness of a Gypsy caravan in the wilderness of Montana—before they traveled out of sight. Even if they’d settled in Sweetwater Springs, I might never have met your parents—that is, not to actually converse with. By your mama’s account, your father wasn’t a man I’d care to be around. I might have seen them in church or done business with them at the bank. But probably, they would never have had enough money to use the bank.”
    Caleb fell silent, marveling at all that had taken place in the last twenty-four hours. That saying—that life can turn on a five-cent piece has just happened to me. To Maggie and Charlotte, as well.
    A tiny hand thrust out from the blanket.
    Caleb started to fold the baby’s arm back inside the warmth of the blanket, but Charlotte grasped his finger. He paused, marveling at the strength in her grip, and studied the tiny fingers and delicate shell fingernails. Lowering his head, he kissed her hand before tucking it back inside the blanket.
    I’m transformed. Caleb wasn’t sure in what way—just that he was different because of this precious child in his arms. Nor did he quite know what that meant for the future.
    Charlotte’s not yours . Don’t become attached.
    Too late. He became conscious of a sense of elation, of a