Читать книгу Special Delivery Baby - Sherri Shackelford - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“Can you at least tell how old she is?” Will asked beseechingly then caught himself.

This was a baby, not a catastrophe, and there was no reason for panic.

While Leah Gardner examined the child, he stood in the archway of the dining room of her well-appointed house. A lifetime ago in Pennsylvania, he and Leah had been engaged. Their lives had changed drastically since then. A month back she’d married his closest friend and fellow soldier, Daniel.

Will couldn’t be happier for the pair.

Five months pregnant with her late, first husband’s child, Leah was the perfect candidate for caretaker of the baby. Surely she’d see the practicality of his plan once he explained his problem.

Daniel’s wife tilted her head and smiled at him with the warmth of a timeworn friendship. “Relax, Will. You’ll wear a hole in my carpet if you keep pacing.”

He caught sight of the depressions his cane tip had left and mumbled an apology.

“I was only teasing.” Leah sobered. “How is your leg these days?”

“Same as always. But at least it’s there. Opal Godwin said the cane makes me look dashing.”

“Opal Godwin thinks the man on the cigar box is dashing.” Leah’s dimpled smile returned. “Sometimes I wonder if you even need that walking stick or if it’s a convenient excuse to keep people at a distance. Half of Cowboy Creek is intimidated by you and the other half is afraid. Most of the townsfolk think you have a sword or a gun hidden in that cane of yours.”

“I’ve certainly never encouraged the rumors. Although a little healthy respect never hurt a fellow. I won’t be seen as weak.” The walking stick was more than an affectation. His balance suffered without assistance. “At least I can hide my affliction. Not everyone is as lucky.”

“Many men were injured in the war. Their wounds don’t make them lesser men.”

Though neither of them had voiced a name, they were both thinking of the same person. Will pictured Noah and the disfiguring burns that covered his lower left jaw, under his ear and disappeared beneath his shirt collar. “The wounds heal but the scars remain.”

“You couldn’t save them all. Noah’s injuries were not your fault. He lived. As did you and Daniel. Many more did not. I know you worry about Noah, but he’s strong. He’ll find his own way by and by.”

Noah Burgess, a friend and fellow soldier, had brought Will to Cowboy Creek. Noah had staked a claim first and his letters had lured Will and Daniel West. Born a Southerner, Noah had fought harder than any Northerner to prove himself worthy. During the Battle of Little Round Top, while taking the place of a brigadier general felled by a sniper, his gun had backfired. Wounded himself, Will had not been able to reach his friend before the flames had engulfed him. The army had discharged Noah due to his injuries, and he’d made his home in Kansas.

“He keeps to himself more and more these days,” Will said with a frown. “He’ll turn into an irascible old hermit soon.”

“Is that why you decided to order a bride for him without his consent? He’ll have both you and my husband tarred and feathered for interfering. Leave him be from now on,” Leah admonished. “He’ll mend in his own time.”

Her words pricked his conscience. Will was having his own doubts about sending for a bride without informing Noah. At the time, the idea had seemed inspired. They were all celebrating the success of the first bride train and the subsequent marriage between Leah and Daniel. He’d been uncharacteristically optimistic. After posting the letter, his enthusiasm had waned almost immediately. Leah was correct. Noah was bound to have their hides once he discovered the interference. At least there were plenty of other eligible bachelors if Noah balked. That thought let Will sleep at night.

“I interfered with you and Daniel,” Will said. “And look how well that turned out.”

“Twisted Daniel’s arm, did you?” She aimed a playful swat in his direction. “I’ll forgive you this once.”

“There was no arm twisting, I can assure you,” Will retorted. “Noah and I only nudged Daniel in the direction he was already heading.”

At the mention of her new husband, Leah’s blue eyes took on a soft, misty look. Will rubbed his knuckles against the recent ache in his chest. Daniel and Leah had found an extraordinary love together. He was happy for them and a little jealous, as well. Their abiding affection was a rare and brilliant thing. If Noah let someone into his heart, he might find something equally lasting.

His buddy’s injuries had taken more than a physical toll. He needed a nudge in the right direction, as Daniel had. Either way, there was no going back now. The letter had been posted. When Constance Miller arrived, Will and Daniel would explain the situation. They’d smooth over any awkwardness.

“I’ll forgive you because I adore Daniel with every fiber of my being.” Leah touched her cheek. “I wasted so much time when the perfect man was right there waiting for me all along.”

Her head bent, and Will admired the pale gold hair caught in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. “We were all young and foolish.”

“Perhaps children are supposed to be foolish,” she remarked lightly. “We’ve all changed.”

Growing up in their hometown in Pennsylvania, he and Daniel and Leah had been inseparable. When Will and Leah had gotten engaged, they’d been little more than children making the awkward transition from playing with slingshots and splashing through streams into adulthood. The war had changed everything.

The war had changed everyone.

He and Leah had gradually drifted apart during the years of his enlistment. The fragile threads of their romantic connection had not survived the physical distance between them. Deep down, both had known they were best suited as friends and nothing more.

During their years serving together in the army, Will had realized Daniel’s feelings for Leah had been far deeper than his own had ever been. With death constantly looming near, Daniel had never given voice to his yearnings, and Leah had eventually married another man.

Will had not expected to see Leah ever again, so her arrival in town had been a shock. With the original collection of dilapidated shanties growing into a thriving community, the three friends soon realized Cowboy Creek needed women to flourish. Only four women had arrived on that first train and, much to Will’s amazement, Leah had been one of the prospective brides. Her ill-fated marriage had abruptly ended when her husband had been shot by a jealous spouse. Pregnant with her late husband’s child, she’d needed to remarry quickly.

Will’s lips quirked. He recalled how he, along with Noah, had urged Daniel and Leah to wed. Their intervention had been inspired. After a rocky start, Leah and Daniel had admitted their feelings, both past and present, and were now more in love than ever. Their success gave him hope that Noah would find the same.

Leah cooed at the baby propped on her rounded belly. “This sweet little thing can’t be more than a few days old. She appears healthy enough. Her mother must have nursed her.”

“What now?” Will spread his hands. “How do we feed her? What do we feed her?”

“I have some glass bottles. As you well know, I’d planned on serving as the local midwife, and I brought along a few supplies when I came to town.” She patted her stomach. “Of course, any work will have to wait until after this baby is born.”

Normally a whirling dervish of activity, Leah instead called for the maid and dispatched her instructions. The telling gesture left Will uneasy. Though married to her first husband for several years, Leah had been unable to carry a child successfully to term. In deference to her health, Daniel treated her with kid gloves. He’d hired the undertaker’s spinster sister to help out, and his friend kept a close and loving eye on Leah. He’d probably pitch a fit if he knew Will was here pestering her about the abandoned baby instead of letting her rest.

Narrowing his gaze on the infant, Will considered his options. “The hotel restaurant has fresh milk delivered each day.”

“That’s probably best. With the general lack of women in this town, I don’t suppose Booker & Son carries pap. Might be something you should look into before long.”

“I haven’t checked, but you’re probably right. We haven’t had much call for infant supplies.”

When he and the other two men had invested in the town, they’d anticipated most everything. They’d built a church and a school. They’d even hired a doctor trained in one of the finest schools back east. Too late, they’d discovered the doctor hadn’t been as interested in delivering babies as he was in other forms of medicine. Leah’s arrival was fortuitous in more ways than one.

They’d thought of a lot of things but, being men, they hadn’t thought of everything.

Leah lifted the baby and grimaced at the damp spot on her skirt. “You’ll need more nappies, as well.”

She rested the infant on the dining room table and peeled back the layer of blanket.

The basket had been stuffed with a supply of miniature outfits. Tiny dressing gowns of yellow calico had been carefully pressed and folded then nestled beside crocheted booties and knit caps. The loving craftsmanship of the work and the expense of the materials were obvious.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Someone planned for this baby. Someone sewed that clothing. Someone carried this child for nine months. Why abandon her on my doorstep?”

“Because you’re wealthy.” Leah shrugged one shoulder. “Because you’re one of the town founders. Because you’re known for your compassion. You’d seem a logical choice to me.”

“I’m not compassionate,” he grumbled. “And none of that explains why a mother would abandon her baby.”

Leah tucked a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear. “There are all sorts of reasons. You know that full well. Maybe the woman’s husband passed away. Maybe she didn’t have a husband. Maybe she fell on hard times.”

Will stared in rapt fascination as Leah rapidly divested the squirming infant of her wet nappy and deftly exchanged it for another. The maid returned with the washed and filled bottle.

“It’s Miss Ewing’s day off.” Leah motioned toward a rocking chair set at an angle in the corner of the dining room. “You’ll have to feed the child while I check on supper.”

Will limped back a pace. “I should be going...”

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

She moved around him, crowding him toward the chair until he had no other choice but to sit.

Reluctantly accepting the wiggling bundle, he appealed to Leah’s better nature. “Can you watch her for a few days? Just until I decide what to do?”

“I’d help you, Will. You know I’d do anything for you.” She protectively cupped her growing stomach. “But I can’t right now.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, sending a kick of guilt straight to his gut.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He knew full well how much she wanted her baby born healthy. How frightened she was that something might happen.

“I’m a watering pot these days.” Leah wiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “I don’t mind the asking as long as you respect my answer. You have more money than you know what to do with and enough space in your suite of rooms to house an orphanage. Hire someone. Then wait. There’s a good chance the mother will come back for her child. Sometimes...sometimes people make decisions they regret.”

Her words were an obvious reference to her past. As she handed him the bottle, he touched her hand. “We’re all praying for you, Leah.”

“I know. This time is different. Everything feels different. Everything feels...right.”

She did look beautiful. Joyful. Yet despite their past connection, the only thing he felt for her was a deep, abiding friendship. “You and Daniel will have a whole passel of children before you know it.”

“That’s what we’re hoping for.” Her expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry about what happened with Dora.”

“You did me a favor. There’s no need for an apology.”

Until a few weeks ago he’d been engaged to Dora Edison. Leah had overheard Dora bragging about how she was marrying Will for his money. When he’d confronted his fiancée, Dora had eventually admitted her true motivation. The breakup had been more humiliating than heartbreaking. While he’d enjoyed Dora’s company before he’d discovered her deception, he’d never looked at her the way Daniel looked at Leah. Perhaps he simply lacked the capacity for an abiding love.

His thoughts drifted toward a certain stunning redhead dressed in leather chaps, and he quickly marshaled them. That particular female was a thorn in his side, and he’d already had enough aggravation to last a lifetime.

He’d vowed to do everything in his power to keep the country from sinking into war once more. To that end, he’d dedicated his life to politics. The peace between the northern and southern states was uneasy at best. The country was torn apart, and only men who understood war were fit to put it back together again. He’d devoted himself to the cause of former soldiers as well as the widows and orphans they’d left behind. Miss Stone with her six-shooters strapped to her hips was nothing but an example of disorder and chaos. She was a distraction he’d rather avoid.

Will wanted peace and quiet and children to dandle on his knee. He did not want to get mixed up with a beautiful vagabond who possessed magnificent horsemanship skills. Her clear and quick thinking had averted a disaster, and for that he would always be grateful. But she was too clever by half and would make his life miserable. Gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted and capable, Miss Stone had already occupied too much of his time.

The infant in his arms howled, yanking him back to the present. “She’s hungry, all right.” Will chuckled. “And letting us all know it.”

“Babies have a way of getting what they want. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

Will accepted the bottle of warmed milk from Leah. The infant puckered her lips then stuck out her tongue, pushing it away. He retracted his hand, and her tiny mouth worked. Smiling at her confusion, he replaced the tip against her lips again. With only a little more coaxing, the child ceased her fussing. Having finally accepted the bottle, the baby suckled greedily.

Once she’d settled, Leah quietly left the room. Will braced his boot heel against the floor, gently rocking his chair. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been around an infant. There were plenty of camp followers during the war, but he’d discouraged the practice around his own regiment. The battlefield was no place for women and children.

Sometime during the war, death had gotten its teeth into him and hadn’t let go. He’d seen so many boys die, he’d lost track of the count. The realization kept him up at night and haunted his dreams when exhaustion finally overtook him. He’d been responsible for those lads, and they’d fought and died beneath his command. He’d penned letters to their families when there was time and signed the letters his secretary had prepared when there wasn’t. There’d been far too many letters; their sentiment weak and inadequate next to the tragedy they represented.

Cowboy Creek was a fresh start. Too many soldiers couldn’t go home again, their farms and livelihoods destroyed. Some of them, like Noah, had needed a fresh start. They’d traveled west instead, building new lives and putting the past behind them. He’d give those men a chance at least. Despite all the work he’d done and the money he’d made, the voices of all the soldiers he’d lost whispered in his dreams. Was it hundreds? Was it thousands? He’d never know, and that was his penance. Cowboy Creek was his atonement.

His hold on the bottle grew lax, and the babe in his arms turned toward him, her rose-petal lips working.

Will adjusted his grip. “All right, little lady, I’m paying attention.”

The boundary between life and death was incredibly fragile. This child represented everything he’d fought for...what he was rebuilding. She represented a better future. If he kept her safe, cared for her and saw that she found a loving home, then the deaths of all those boys would not have been in vain. This little girl, born in a time of peace, represented their sacrifice. He’d settle up whatever debts he had left when his own time came.

His chest tightened with emotion. “What shall we call you?”

His first officer had been killed during the Battle of the Wilderness. Collecting the soldier’s belongings, he’d discovered a picture of an infant swathed in her christening finery. The name “Ava” had been scrawled across the back. The memory of that photo had stuck with him.

“How about Ava? Someone told me the name means ‘bird.’ One day you’ll fly away from here. Won’t you, little bird?”

The infant’s eyes blinked slower and slower. The frantic suckling grew lax. She was utterly defenseless, utterly dependent. A fresh sense of purpose filled him. If he could protect her innocence, maybe then he’d be whole again.

Leah tiptoed into the room and peered at the sleeping baby. “She looks all tuckered out. How about you?” she whispered. “How was the cattle drive this morning? I heard the excitement all the way from Eden Street.”

“Much as you’d expect,” he grumbled. “We’ll be cleaning up the mess and repairing the street for days. Sheriff Davis already has three of the cowboys in jail drying out.”

“Cattle built this town, Will.” She straightened and crossed her arms. “You can’t run the drovers out.”

“The railroad will put an end to the cattle drives, mark my words. We’ll have to find another way to survive eventually.”

“The railroad?” she scoffed. “I don’t see thousands of head of cattle riding the rails.”

“Change is coming whether we like it or not. The railroads are already experimenting with icebox cars.”

“I hope the change doesn’t come too soon. The stockyards account for a large portion of our income.” Leah’s expression remained skeptical. “Whatever the future holds, those drovers are here now. And you’d best make them feel welcome. The merchants in town need their business.”

Will recalled the talk he’d heard on the way over about a rodeo show the cowboys were planning. “They can spend all the money they want here, but I’m putting a stop to any rodeos they’re planning. All the boys can talk about is this sharpshooter called Texas Tom. There’s liable to be other events, as well, and bull riding is too dangerous.” He tucked the blanket more snugly around the baby. “The last time the drovers held a show, the doc fixed up two broken legs and administered more stitches than I can count. If one of those bulls breaks free, Miss Stone won’t be around to save the day.”

“Miss Stone? Who is Miss Stone?”

“No one. Never mind,” he mumbled. That woman was trouble, and he always avoided trouble. Especially beautiful trouble with dazzling green eyes. “I’ll shut down Texas Tom before the week is out. I don’t want the new brides trampled before they find husbands. We promised them a nice, safe town. A good place to raise a family. I can’t risk a stray bullet.”

“I see there’s no changing your mind,” she said with a plaintive sigh. “What about the baby? Have you decided what to do about her?”

“Yes,” Will replied resolutely.

He’d never been one to shy away from a difficult decision, and he wasn’t about to start now.

* * *

A week after her arrival in town, Tomasina dipped her push broom into the bucket of glue and shook off the excess. The printer had done a fine job with the posters, even though she’d rushed him. Normally, James Johnson, a fellow drover who usually rode with their outfit, traveled ahead and arranged for the printing.

James had been like a son to her pa, and Tomasina treated him like a brother. Her brush stilled midair. Something had been troubling James since their trip to Harper, Kansas, last September. He’d been so distracted, he’d nearly been gored. Worried about his safety, they’d argued and James had ridden with another outfit this time out. She’d discovered James was in Cowboy Creek, as well, but he’d been avoiding her. She sure hoped the kid had finally gotten his head on straight or he’d be no use to anyone.

Tamping down her annoyance, she spread the thick adhesive on the outside wall of the stockyards’ office then reached for another poster and smoothed it over the glue.

Yep. A shoot ’em rodeo show was a prime diversion. Judging by that handsome, uptight fellow she’d met that first day, the whole town was crying out for a little entertainment. A place called Cowboy Creek deserved some excitement. A rodeo and a sharpshooter contest were just the thing.

A sound caught her attention, and she whirled. Her jaw nearly dropped before she caught herself. “Well, if it isn’t Daddy Canfield. Taking your baby for a walk again, I see.”

There was something awfully endearing about a man strolling through the stockyards with a babe in his arms. An unexpected rush of tenderness washed through her. She’d seen little softness from the men in her life. She’d always had to work harder, ride longer and take more licks than the men. A woman in a man’s job always had something to prove. These past few weeks without her pa had taken a toll on her endurance. She didn’t want to be better than everyone else. She simply wanted to be good enough.

Will didn’t look as though he cared a whit what anyone thought of him. He looked...well, he looked rather appealing, all things considered.

Tall and commanding, he wore his charcoal suit with dapper charm.

Her goodwill lasted until he jabbed her freshly glued poster with the tip of his cane, ripping the damp paper. “This Texas Tom person cannot stage a rodeo show in town,” he declared. “And a sharpshooter contest is out of the question.”

“You’re not much for small talk, are you?”

“No guns. I believe I mentioned that before.”

“I believe you did. You even posted your own signs, if I recall.” She ran her hands over the jagged tear, mending the edges. “Have a little care. These posters don’t come cheap.”

“Those posters will have to be removed immediately.”

“You don’t have the authority to give me orders.” She planted her hands on the gun belt strapped around her hips. “The sheriff enforces the law around here.”

Quincy Davis, the sheriff of Cowboy Creek, had already proved himself rather cooperative. He’d even accepted a week’s worth of fines levied against her for wearing her guns in town, saving her several trips to his office.

Will Canfield shook his head. “I understand your reasoning for hosting the show, but we’ve had problems in the past. Serious injuries. Last time we had a sharpshooting contest, Walker Frye dug two bullets out of the side of the livery wall. What if someone had been standing where those bullets struck? We’ve got more settlers with children living in town.”

“I don’t miss what I aim for.”

“No one is perfect. Eventually, you’ll miss.”

“No one will get hurt.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen this show staged a hundred times before. Never had a problem yet.”

“You need permission to put up those posters, as well.”

“You got a rule for everything, don’t you, fellow?” The glue on her palms had adhered to her gun belt. She pried her hands loose and rubbed them together, pilling the adhesive. “You must keep mighty busy caring for that baby of yours and making up all those ridiculous rules.”

“If we don’t limit the number of posters people hang, they wind up three and four deep. The fence behind the Drover’s Place collapsed beneath the weight last spring.”

“Then build a stronger fence.”

The frown line between his brown eyes deepened. “I don’t know what you’re used to, but this is a civilized town.”

He was probably one of those foolish men who considered a woman in trousers a disgrace. “A civilized town, huh? Where the ladies wear the skirts and the men wear the pants? I wouldn’t be too picky if I was you, seems like this town is short on ladies already.”

“This has nothing to do with your attire,” he snapped. “It’s about following town law. If everyone thought they were the exception to the rule, there wouldn’t be much point, would there?”

She lifted her chin a notch. “I have permission to hang these posters. Just ask the fellow who manages the stockyards.” A couple of silver dollars in his outstretched palm hadn’t hurt her case. “He’ll tell you.”

“Daniel Gardner, the owner of these stockyards, might have something different to say than his foreman.” Will flashed her a stern look. “You’ve wasted your time and Texas Tom’s money. He’s not putting on a rodeo show in this town. All they do is incite the cowboys to shoot guns and carouse. Like I said before, I won’t have someone shot by a stray bullet.”

“I don’t know who put a burr under your saddle, Daddy Canfield, but you sure are a cranky fellow. Maybe fatherhood doesn’t suit you.”

“Fatherhood suits me fine.” He shook his head, uttering something that sounded suspiciously like a growl. “I told you, I’m not a father. This isn’t my baby.”

The wind shifted, and she caught his distinct scent—a mixture of starch and bay rum. For once she didn’t find the odor nauseating. The boys sometimes doused themselves with the stuff before going into town, but Will showed more restraint. He actually smelled quite nice.

She’d had the chance to study plenty of men in her life, and they all fell into certain categories. There were the bullies and the heartbreakers, the men who stuck to themselves and the men who always seemed to have a crowd around them. Will was unlike any of them. He kept her off balance, and she wasn’t used to being off balance.

Her pulse fluttered. “Whatever you say, Mr. Canfield. But you sure are getting comfortable with that babe in your arms.”

His caring for the child set him apart, as well. None of the men of her acquaintance would have ever been caught dead holding a baby.

Her father had been a good man, and he’d loved her, but he was a hard man. There’d been no time for coddling in the Stone family. He’d treated her like one of the boys. Come to think of it, everyone treated her like one of the boys. Maybe that’s what was different about Will. Even though he was clearly annoyed with her, he regarded her with a deference she was unaccustomed to receiving.

“I’ll speak with Texas Tom myself.” Will tucked the sleeping infant into the crook of his elbow. “When you see your boss, tell him I’m looking for him.”

Tomasina grinned up at him. If having a baby dropped on his doorstep wasn’t shocking enough, he was about to receive another surprise. “I might be able to save you some time.”

“Do enlighten me.”

He’d fight her tooth and nail on the rodeo, and she was going to enjoy every minute of their sparring. He’d lose eventually. She had the sheriff in her pocket, after all.

Daddy Canfield had finally met his match.

“I’m the one you’re looking for,” Tomasina declared with a wink. “I’m Texas Tom.”