Читать книгу Dakota Child - Linda Ford - Страница 11

A shiver raced across Vivian’s shoulders and reached down her throat to grab her heart in a cruel grip. She was hungry, yet she hesitated. Mrs. Black scared every last bit of courage from her heart.

“Ma won’t be changing her mind. You might as well pull up to the table.”

Vivian ducked her head to hide the sudden sting of tears. She longed to be safe. Until this morning, she had always chosen the easy route, doing what was expected of her. Her fear switched to anger. Look where that had landed her.

“I’m getting mighty hungry and when I’m hungry I get cranky.” Billy sounded as if he’d already crossed the line into that state.

Realizing her precarious position, Vivian jerked as if lassoed unexpectedly from behind. She did not want to see Billy upset in any way. She remembered him from school. How he’d stood with fists curled as the boys taunted him. She’d wondered how they had the nerve to test Billy’s mettle. Even back then he was big enough to do serious harm to several of them before they could stop him by the sheer weight of their numbers. As she’d watched, her heart tight with distress at their taunts, tears raced to her eyes. Then Billy looked directly at her. She’d seen the pain in his gaze and knew how much this tormenting hurt him. Then his anger exploded. Only he didn’t turn on the boys responsible. He started pounding on the walls of the barn on the school property. She’d almost been ill at how he’d thrust his fists again and again into the unyielding wood until his knuckles were torn and bleeding.

She did not want to trigger such a violent reaction because of something she did or failed to do, so she slowly made her way to the table hoping he would think her shivers came from moving away from the fireplace.

To think she’d handed the baby to Big Billy. Certainly, his crying made her feel helpless and frustrated, but as soon as she shoved the bundle into his hands she knew she’d made a mistake. Billy had only to curl his big fists to squeeze the life out of the infant.

She’d held her breath, praying he would choose not to. God mercifully answered her prayers. The big man cradled the baby gently and the little bit of squalling intractability settled down.

Suddenly, her fears subsided and her heart calmed. Somehow, and she couldn’t explain it, she knew Billy would not harm a living soul. Perhaps it was seeing how gentle he was with the numerous cats, or watching his patient concern over his mother or realizing that even in his anger almost eight years ago, he had not turned against those responsible.

She straightened her shoulders, shifted the baby and walked to the table. There were three chairs. She avoided the one vacated by his mother.

Billy waited until she sat, the baby cradled in her left arm. “I’ll pray for the food.”

Startled by his announcement, expecting him to care little about godly things, she darted a look at him, caught him watching her and quickly bowed her head.

“I ain’t a bad man,” he muttered.

She wanted to tell him she didn’t think so, but when she stole another glance he had closed his eyes. Just as well. She wasn’t sure what she thought of this big man. She, too, bowed her head.

“Lord, some have hunger, but no meat; some have meat, but no hunger; I have both. God be praised! Amen.”

Vivian coughed to hide her sudden desire to laugh. She kept her head down, glad of the need to concentrate on her meal. She doubted Big Billy would share her amusement at the grace he’d chosen.

In the pantry, his mother mumbled something unintelligible but clearly was annoyed.

How did Billy live with this day in and day out? It was enough to drive even the strongest man to lunacy.

Anger gnawed at her throat. It wasn’t her fault she was stuck with a crazy woman and a reluctant man. She had a clear-cut destination and a task to take care of. Only the storm had diverted her. Lord, God, keep me safe, help me make it to town and enable me to accomplish my purpose.

She ate slowly as she considered her situation and what she could do. Nothing for now. Except pray. She wished she hadn’t told him the truth about being unmarried. It always made her feel dirty and stupid. She should have never listened to Wayne’s promises. But if Billy felt the usual disgust at evidence of a woman with loose morals, to his credit he had hidden it.

Billy ate as if he’d never get another chance. He’d taken the platter she thought for serving food, and consumed the stack of potatoes, four venison steaks and well over a dozen eggs, used four thick slices of bread to clean his plate, then sat back with a huge sigh.

Aware she’d been staring these last five minutes, Vivian ducked her head but not before Billy noticed her interest.

“It takes a lot to fuel me.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Tea,” his mother called.

“Coming, Ma.” He tossed a handful of tea leaves into a big brown china teapot, poured in hot water and let it steep. “She’s not always like this,” Billy said. “Only when there’s strangers about.”

He was blaming Vivian, which wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her fault. As if aware of her upset thoughts, the tiny boy stiffened and whimpered. Her anger vanished and she murmured soft noises to the baby. “I’m sorry, son. I love you and will get you the sort of home you deserve.”

Billy took a cup of tea to his mother. Vivian heard the woman mumbling her complaint, and Billy’s deep voice responding, trying to reassure her. Somehow, despite his size and the timbre of his voice, he had the power to calm his mother. It seemed to work for the baby, too.

On his return, Billy offered Vivian tea.

“Thanks.” Maybe it would soothe her nerves, growing tighter with each passing moment. In fact, if she listened carefully, she could hear them humming like frost-tight wires. She wanted only to get to Quinten. She hadn’t been back since being whisked away to the orphanage seven years ago. She could hardly wait to start over as an adult, a mother and according to her plan, the wife of an upstanding citizen.

A cat rubbed against her leg, startling her. She gasped.

Billy studied her. “You scared of cats?”

“No. I just never had one rub against me while I sat at a table.”

“You never had a pet cat?”

“No.” Mother had considered cats dirty. The orphanage didn’t allow pets. And the Weimers had cats only in the mill—wild, mangy things you couldn’t get close to. Or want to.

“Then I guess you might find it unusual to have so many.”

“How many are there?” She’d tried to count.

“Eight in the house. More in the barn.”

“I’m guessing you don’t have trouble with mice.”

He chuckled. “Would have to be the bravest mouse in the world to hang around here.”

His easy humor caught her off guard but before she had time to analyze her response, the baby lifted his voice in a demanding wail. She had no idea what he wanted this time. Who knew a baby could be so challenging? She had to figure out what to do with him. Billy already expressed suspicion because of her lack of knowledge in caring for an infant. She wished she could assure him there would be no lawmen after her, but despite the paper in her pocket and Marie’s assurances…

She balanced the baby in one arm, retrieved the abandoned bottle from near the fireplace and prepared it as she’d seen Billy do. She persuaded Joshua to take the bottle. He sucked eagerly. She burped him when it seemed appropriate, and changed his nappy realizing she would soon have to wash the soiled ones or risk running out of clean ones.

Billy stayed at the window looking into the emptiness or alternately watching Joshua. Then he caught her gaze.

She blinked before the compassion in his look, wondering at its source.

“I heard about your ma and pa. I’m sorry.”

“What did you hear?”

“Them dying and leaving you alone. How you got sent to an orphanage. Must have been real tough.”

Sympathy from this unlikely source unlocked a hidden store of pain that escaped in a rush of words. “You can’t begin to imagine. I lost everything. My family, my home and security. I went from being a loved and cherished only child to being nobody.” She struggled to contain her emotions. She’d felt lost and alone, not just on that dreadful day, but every day following. She knew if she ever let the full force of her feelings escape they would turn into a flood of furious proportions. She sucked in air, pushing down the words, the feelings, the anger and pain.

She’d learned to deny her feelings and accept her fate. Perhaps too well.

Until Joshua.

His birth seemed to have planted a strength in her. Granted, it took almost two months for it to grow enough for her to act, but she was here now—evidence it had reached its potential.

“You are valued and loved by God. Your circumstances don’t change that.”

She met his steady blue gaze, let her thoughts follow his words. “I know that.” Her faith was part of who she was, part of what her parents left her, though people would have cause to wonder considering her present circumstance—a baby but no husband.

“You can trust God when you can’t trust anyone else.”

She couldn’t break away from his look, guessed his words conveyed far more than she knew. “It’s been tough for you, too.” As soon as the whispered words were out, she wished she could pull them back. She didn’t want to remind him of the cruelty of people; didn’t know how he’d react.

Billy’s expression went blank, almost stupid. “If you mean how people treat us, it don’t matter to me. Ma and I don’t need anyone else.” He pushed to his feet. “I’m gonna clean up.”

“I’ll help.” One thing she’d learned, you better make yourself useful or no one would bother with you. And despite her wishes to be somewhere else, she needed to stay here until the storm ended.

Joshua sucked his bottom lip as she laid him on his side in the stuffed chair. She touched his silky cheek. So beautiful. So sweet. So much responsibility but she would soon have help in raising him. As soon as she reached Quinten and contacted Wayne. One look at this beautiful child they had created together and marriage would be the first thing he’d want so they could give Joshua a loving home, and the benefit of Wayne’s name.

She turned to help clean the table. Mrs. Black came to the doorway of the pantry, saw Vivian, covered her face and moaned.

Vivian halted. She didn’t want to upset this woman any further. Slowly, she backed away. Mrs. Black did the same until she was out of sight.

“Just leave her be,” Billy said, his tone mild, but she didn’t make the mistake of thinking it carried no warning.

She wanted to protest. She’d done nothing to bother the woman except reluctantly find shelter under her roof, but that was obviously more than enough. She grabbed a drying towel from behind the stove. Billy had already washed several dishes and she dried them. They worked in silence.

One thought consumed her.

Would she have to stay here for the night? If so, she faced long hours of forcing her eyes to remain open. Mrs. Black’s threatening looks made her afraid of what would happen if she slept.

“Looks like you’re stuck here.”

Billy’s words confirmed her worst fears, gave them body and strength.

From the pantry, his ma screeched.

The sound gave Vivian’s fears flesh and blood.

She polished a plate. She needed to count her blessings as Mother had taught her. She was in out of the storm where she would have surely frozen to death. The baby was safe and, best of all, they were together.

“I think it’s dry.”

Billy’s slow words made Vivian realize how long she’d been wiping the plate and she handed it to him to put away.

“You’ll be safe here. As safe as in your own home.”

Vivian had learned the hard way you weren’t safe even in your own home. Yet his words—or perhaps his tone—eased some of her tension.

They finished the dishes without further conversation.

“Ma,” Billy called. “Come out now. You can sit by the fire and card wool.”

“Noooooo.”

The sound sent shivers up Vivian’s spine and she again promised herself she would stay awake all night. Perhaps with a poker at her side.

“You’ll be getting cold.”

“Bring me my coat.”

“No, Ma. You can’t stay there.” He went to the pantry. Ignoring a moaning protest, he slowly pulled his mother from the room, his big hands enclosing her smaller ones.

Vivian hung back, half hidden beside the warm kitchen stove.

Billy edged his ma toward the wooden rocker and waited until she bent her knees and dropped to its seat. He aimed his bulk toward the stuffed chair, saw the baby at the same time as Vivian cried out. Her heart rattled against her chest at the close call.

Mrs. Black moaned and tried to regain her feet but Billy planted a hand on her shoulder and waited for her to settle back, then he scooped up the baby and handed him to Vivian.

Something cold and itchy washed down her back as she cuddled the sleeping bundle, and edged to a wooden kitchen chair and sat so she could see the pair. It looked to be a long, fright-filled night ahead.

Billy pulled a big Bible from the mantel and opened it. In slow, measured tones he read the Twenty-third Psalm.

Mrs. Black rocked, never once taking her eyes from his face, her expression desperate as if clinging to her last shred of sanity by focusing on Billy’s voice, or perhaps the words of scripture.

It was not a comforting thought.

Billy finished and replaced the Bible on the shelf.

“I like that psalm,” Mrs. Black said.

“It’s a good one, for sure.” Billy threw more wood on the fire and glanced toward the stove where Vivian sat.

She knew he wanted to stoke the fire, sensed he hesitated to move for fear of bringing an end to his mother’s calm. Vivian didn’t offer to help, nor move to do so for the same reason. She tried to stifle a yawn. The long day and the time spent afraid and freezing in the storm had sapped her energy. Her head drooped. She snapped to attention. There’d be no sleep tonight.

“Ma, why don’t you go to bed?”

Mrs. Black scrubbed at her hair, tangling it even worse. “I can’t sleep with—” She tilted her head toward Vivian.

The way it made Vivian feel unwelcome was as familiar as it was despised. She pulled Joshua closer. She’d give him what she’d lost—a home. A place of belonging and acceptance.

She tried to picture the house where they would live but having never been inside as far as she could remember, she had to make up the details. However, she could picture the face of Joshua’s father and she recalled every word he’d spoken to her. She should have taken them with a grain of caution but despite her many regrets at her foolishness, Joshua wasn’t one of them. My precious baby.

As soon as the storm ended, she would head to town and her plan.

Billy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Ma, you go to your bed and I’ll make sure you’re safe.” Mother and son regarded each other for a long, tense moment, then Mrs. Black nodded.

“I’ll not sleep.”

“Nor I,” Billy said.

Vivian silently echoed the words. Little Joshua was the only one inclined to sleep in this household tonight.

Mrs. Black disappeared into a doorway next to the pantry. She firmly closed the door even though they all knew it would also shut out the heat.

“You’re welcome to take my bed,” Billy said.

Vivian shook her head hard. “Thanks, but I’ll just wait for the storm to end.” She again tried to count her blessings—safety, a chance to start over and the determination to work hard to achieve her goal.

Her head drooped again. She jerked upright. What if she dropped Joshua?

“Best move closer to the fire,” Billy said. “The kitchen stove is getting cold.”

Her feet grew icy and her arm ached from holding the baby. She studied the warm glow of the fire and considered what it meant to move closer.

Billy sighed, lumbered out of the big chair and pushed it several feet from the rocker. “That make you feel safer?”

Heat raced up her neck and settled in her cheeks as if she stood too close to the flames. She’d been rude. She normally didn’t shun anyone, but his size, his mother’s mental state…Well, who could blame her for her anxiety?

She crossed the room and settled in the chair, shifting Joshua to her chest to ease the strain on her arm, then faced Billy squarely. “I didn’t mean anything.”

His eyes were flashes of blue ice. His gaze looked through her, past her as if she wasn’t there. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, nor a welcome one. She was done with being invisible, though perhaps this was not a wise time to inform the world, especially when the world consisted solely of Big Billy Black and his mad mother.

Suddenly, his look connected with hers so intently surprise raced through her. Then he gave an unexpectedly gentle smile.

She floundered for a solid thought.

“Know you didn’t mean anything.”

Her eyes widened of their own accord. She seemed unable to break from his look that went past her fear and through her emptiness to a spot deep inside that warmed and quivered like flower petals opening to the sun. When was the last time someone looked at her so, as if she mattered solely because she was a person? Not, she knew, since her parents died. Oh, sure, there’d been exceptions—Marie and Joshua’s father—but they were few and far between and in the latter case, short-lived. But why it should be Billy resurrecting that feeling of being valued made no sense. Any more than his soft assurances that he knew she meant no harm by her statement. “How could you know that?”

His smile deepened. His gaze warmed even more. “Because I remember you in school.” He paused, and shifted his gaze to the fire and then back to her.

She saw something new in his eyes—was it longing? She couldn’t say for certain, but the look brought a flood of sadness to her heart.

He nodded slightly. “I remember your kindness.”

“My kindness?” She managed to stammer out the words. “I don’t remember doing anything.”

“I know.” His words were soft, like a whispered benediction. “Your kindness comes natural. It’s a part of you.”

“It is?” Her mouth rounded with disbelief. No one ever said anything so approving before and it made her feel—She struggled to identify this sensation of…of being really seen. Valued. And from a source she least expected. “What did I do?”

“You offered me a cookie.”

“I did?” She had no memory of the event. “Did you take it?”

He chuckled, a deep-throated rumble resounding in his chest and bringing a smile to her lips. “I have never been one to refuse food.”

She laughed. “Maybe I knew it even back then.”

“You were the only one who was nice to me. You didn’t seem afraid of my size.”

They studied each other. She didn’t know what his watchful gaze wanted. What she saw was a big, kind man trying his best to hide his hurt at being treated poorly. He wore a faded blue shirt that brought out the color in his eyes. His fawn-colored trousers were sprinkled with cat hair in variegated colors. He wore heavy socks knit in raw wool and lounged in the chair as if life held nothing but joy for him.

She knew otherwise. And she knew more. This man would never harm her. In fact, she would trust him to protect her if the need arose. The thought comforted. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Hope raced across his expression and disappeared so quickly she almost missed it.

Satisfaction smoothed away her tension. She’d brought a bit of well-deserved well-being to this man.

He stared into the flames, the reflection of the fire’s glow softening his face.

She remembered how she’d sheltered against his shoulder as he carried her from the storm. It reinforced her feeling he was the sort of man one could count on. If not for his ma, this would be a safe and sheltering place. She stopped her thoughts right there and stared into the flames. She was letting the warmth of the fire and the isolating roar of the wind divert her thoughts from her goal. She must find Joshua’s father. Together, they would build a happy home even though she didn’t know if she felt anything toward the man except regret at what they’d done, and gratitude for her son.

She stole a glance out of the corner of her eye, saw that Billy watched the baby as he stroked a lap full of cats. Other cats curled around his feet. The noise of so many purrs made her laugh.

He smiled crookedly. “I spoil them.”

“They’re your friends.” There was something oddly appealing about such a big man enjoying pets.

His eyes narrowed. “Better than friends. They don’t judge or condemn.”

She understood his reluctance to trust people. She shared the lesson. But through it all, she had Marie, a special friend whose support sustained her. “Not everyone is the same. I had a friend in the orphanage who always helped me.” Even if Marie got herself into all sorts of awkward situations, she never failed to help Vivian when she needed it.

Joshua stiffened in her arms and wailed.

Billy bolted to his feet with surprising agility. “I’ll get the bottle.”

Joshua took the bottle readily and Vivian settled back, rocking gently. A person could get used to this so long as they knew what to do.

Billy snored softly.

Vivian smiled. So much for not going to sleep. She rested her head on the back of the rocker and closed her eyes. The storm still raged outside as questions raced around inside her head.

Who was she? Vivian Halliday. But who was that? She didn’t know. She’d lost all sense of who she was when her life had been stolen from her. Or had she let people take it from her degree by degree?

It no longer mattered because from now on, her every thought and decision would be on Joshua’s behalf and for his good.

She smiled, her eyes still closed.

True, taking the baby from the orphanage wasn’t entirely an unselfish act. Yes, she wanted her baby to have more than a foundling home could offer, or even an adoption. But it had been to quench the hunger of her own heart that had spurred her to go against everything she’d been told to do.

Yes, Joshua’s birth had given her a strength that had before been foreign to her.