Читать книгу Special Delivery Baby - Sherri Shackelford - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Tomasina marched down the boardwalk, her spurs jingling with each step. Quincy Davis had refused her appeal. The rodeo show was off unless she convinced Will otherwise. Daddy Canfield had obviously gotten to the sheriff first. With no other choice, she was bearding the lion in his den.

Once inside the Cattleman Hotel, she flipped off her hat. The strings caught on her neck and she adjusted the knot. If Will Canfield thought she was canceling her rodeo show on account of a silly town ordinance, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

She paused in front of an enormous oval mirror framed with gold filigree. Turning this way and that, she studied her reflection. She wasn’t a bad-looking woman, but she was definitely rough around the edges. Since she’d never seen Will with a hair out of place or stains on his crisp white shirt, she’d better put her best foot forward.

As she pondered how to improve on her appearance, a porter hustled by holding a tray topped with several glasses and a pitcher of water.

Tomasina snagged the young man’s coat sleeve. “Hold up there a minute.”

She grasped the pitcher, leaving the porter struggling with his unbalanced tray, then poured a measure of water into her palm and replaced the pitcher.

“That’ll be all, fellow.”

Ignoring the porter’s glaring reflection, she rubbed the water between her palms then smoothed her hands over her hair. For one brief, shining moment her curls remained plastered against her head. The next instant they sprang free, leaving her hair damp and more disordered than before.

Tomasina shrugged. Her hair was a lost cause. At least the rest of her looked presentable enough. She’d worn her newest chaps today instead of the pair with half the fringe missing. Her clothing was freshly laundered and her face was clean. Brushing her hands down her best chambray shirt, she searched for any remnants of her breakfast. She wasn’t giving Mr. Canfield any reason to find fault with her.

Feeling almost respectable, she approached the desk.

The young porter scowled. “Can I get you any more water, Miss?”

“Nope. I’m here for Mr. Will Canfield.”

“He’s busy. Everyone’s always busy since that baby arrived.”

The porter was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and handsome in the sort of way that probably sent the young girls swooning. He kept his dark hair slicked back neatly beneath his round cap, and his bottle-green uniform was crisply pressed, his collar starched and white. He had the appearance of someone who liked to keep things orderly. From what Tomasina had heard, newborns had a way of creating all sorts of chaos and disorder.

“You don’t say.” She leaned forward and pitched her voice low. “What if I told you I had information about a certain abandoned baby?”

The young man’s eyes lit up like a kid let loose on penny candy. “Third floor. Room 311. Up the stairs and take a left. The sooner that infant is out of the hotel, the better. That child has thrown the whole place into an uproar. We’ve lost our best housekeeper to babysitting duties, and now the maids are running amok.”

Tomasina grinned. This was even easier than she’d expected. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The porter proudly straightened his cap. “The name is Simon if you need anything else.”

She touched her forehead in thanks and pivoted on her heel. She hadn’t lied. Not exactly. She’d asked the young man a what-if question, and he’d replied. No harm in that.

Her conscious clear, she took the stairs two at a time. Huffing by the third floor, she braced one hand against the wall and pressed the other against the stitch in her side. They must have high ceilings on all the floors, because it sure was a long way up those stairs. As she caught her breath, a distinctive racket filled the corridor.

Even if she hadn’t known the room number, there was no mistaking Will’s suite. She followed the sounds of the squalling baby and rapped on the solid wood panel.

The door swung open, revealing Will with a familiar, red-faced bundle in his arms. “It’s about time.” He caught sight of her, and his hopeful expression fell. “Oh...it’s you. Never mind.”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“Clearly.” He elbowed shut the door.

“Not so fast.” Tomasina stuck her booted foot over the threshold. “You and I have business.”

“I believe we concluded our business yesterday, Miss Stone. Or shall I call you Texas Tom? I should have realized it was you immediately.” He grimaced as he clutched the squirming, angry baby tighter in the crook of his arm. “Except I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Tomasina will do just fine.” She scowled. “You have no right to interfere with my rodeo show.”

“The town ordinance is clear, as I’m sure Sheriff Davis informed you.”

“I’m guessing you spoke with him first.”

The sheriff’s previous conciliatory mood had taken a sudden turn for the worse. It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out who had changed his mind.

Will moved deeper into the room, and she followed close on his heels.

Blowing out a low whistle, she gaped. His suite was positively dandified. Fancy fringed curtains the shade of pine needles hung from the windows, and the furniture was covered in wine-colored velvet fabric. She’d never seen the White House, but she imagined this room was fit for a president. Well, except for the nappies strung out to dry across the archway and the blankets and tiny clothing littering the furniture and the floor. She didn’t suppose those were the usual accoutrements of the White House. Despite the mess, peeking out from beneath all that clutter were some fine pieces of furniture. Having lived most of her life out of a tent, she savored the feel of the cushy rug beneath her feet.

“You sure live fancy,” she declared.

“This is only a temporary residence.”

Tomasina collapsed onto a tufted chair and draped her arms over the sides. “I could get used to some temporary quarters like this.”

Closing her eyes, she let her body sink into the cozy stuffing. Rarely had she enjoyed such luxury. Chairs of any kind were scarce on the trail; she preferred traveling light. Most times she sat on the hard ground. Occasionally she rustled up a stump or a rock. This chair was pure bliss. Not even the wailing baby could put an immediate damper on her enjoyment.

“Looks like you have your hands full.” She opened one eye and squinted. “Where’s your housekeeper? The porter said she was helping out.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Mrs. Foster is on her lunch break.”

“You ought to hire someone else. I hear the maids are running amok.”

“Simon talks too much.” Will leaned heavily on his cane. “If you must know, the reverend’s daughter has offered to assist, as well. She’s coming by this evening.”

The infant’s wailing continued unchecked, and a sharp pain throbbed behind Tomasina’s temple. “Word of that baby sure spread fast.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “You think her mother will ever come back? Most mamas are protective of their young’uns.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Then again, maybe she won’t. I once saw a heifer reject her calf. Almost killed the poor thing before we separated them.”

Clenching his jaw, he glowered down at her. “Your optimism is comforting. Truly. If you’ve finished cheering me up, you may go.”

“I’m not leaving that easy,” Tomasina retorted. “About the rodeo...” She leaned forward and raised her voice over the squalling baby. “Look, we’ve been on the trail for more than three months. The boys just need to blow off a little steam.”

“You’re a tenacious little thing, aren’t you? When cowboys blow off steam, property is damaged.”

“I’m not little. And nothing will be damaged. The boys can be a might rowdy, but they’re good men. All of ’em. I can vouch for that.”

Will quirked a brow. “You can vouch for all of them?”

Okay, he had her there. Tomasina wrapped a curl around one finger. Drovers were a nomadic bunch by nature. While she knew most of the men on her crew, there were always new faces coming and going. “Most of them.”

Will barely spared her a glance, his attention now fully focused on the fussy baby. The infant’s arms stretched out wide, and her face screwed up. Silent for a breath, she seemed to be struggling for air. Her arms and legs flailed. The next instant she let out an earsplitting wail, her lower lip trembling with the effort.

Will held the baby away from his body and juggled her lightly. “There, there, Ava,” he crooned. “There’s no need to fuss.”

“I didn’t know she had a name.” Tomasina paused. Giving the baby a name made her more real somehow. Not that the baby wasn’t real before. She was just easier to dismiss. “It’s a nice name.”

“I had to call her something until her mother returns.”

“Have you fed Miss Ava lately?” The baby’s distress was getting to her, and Tomasina temporarily abandoned her argument. “Maybe she’s hungry.”

“She has been fed. She has been burped. She has been changed. There is absolutely no reason for this behavior.”

Tomasina stood and peered at the infant’s scrunched-up face. “Did you hear that, li’l missy? Daddy Canfield doesn’t think you’re being reasonable.” Tomasina sighed and reached for the bundle. “Here, let me have her. You’re doing it all wrong.”

Will hesitated for several long seconds before handing over Ava.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and heaved a breath. “I don’t know how such a tiny creature can make such a racket.”

“Maybe she misses her mama.” Tomasina tucked the baby snugly against her body. “I bet your mama misses you, too, Ava.”

Tomasina had only meant to quiet Ava, but a curious warmth enveloped her. Pacing back and forth, something unfurled inside her; a gentle awakening. She’d been around lots of baby animals in her life, and they were all plenty cute. Ava was different. Once she quit her squalling and Tomasina got a good look at her, she marveled at the change. As those beautiful eyes blinked, long, dark lashes swept over plump cheeks. Her chubby hands fisted restlessly against the blanket. Tomasina had never seen such tiny, perfectly shaped fingernails. Ava even smelled good. The infant’s sweet scent teased her senses.

Nuzzling her forehead, Tomasina whispered comforting words. The tune of an old camp song tugged at her memory. Unheeding of Will’s curious stare, she sang softly.

“O bury me not on the lone prairie

Where coyotes howl and the wind blows free

In a narrow grave just six by three—

O bury me not on the lone prairie

It matters not, I’ve been told,

Where the body lies when the heart grows cold

Yet grant, o grant, this wish to me

O bury me not on the lone prairie.

I’ve always wished to be laid when I died

In a little churchyard on the green hillside

By my father’s grave, there let me be,

O bury me not on the lone prairie.”

With each verse, the infant gradually calmed. Ava’s eyes drifted shut, and her breathing grew deep and even.

Will sighed. “I don’t know how you did it, but I thank you all the same.”

“Babies are no different than any of God’s creatures. Everyone wants to know that someone loves them.” Caring for Ava had eased the tension between them a notch. “What will you do if you can’t find her mama?”

His face softened. She sensed that something had shifted in their relationship. They were shared victors of a sort—soothing the savage beast. The baby had given them something in common. Tomasina snorted softly. The baby was about all they were likely to find in common. She couldn’t imagine two more opposite people.

“I always have a plan,” Will said a touch wearily. “First I’ll give her mama the chance to change her mind.”

A grudging respect for the man sifted through Tomasina’s annoyance. After holding the tiny new life, she sympathized with his dilemma. “Sometimes people make decisions they regret later.”

“You’re the second person who’s told me that in the last week.”

“I guess most folks have a regret or two. You better hire some good help.” The baby squirmed, and Tomasina lowered her voice to a whisper. She’d already made herself a new personal rule to never wake a sleeping baby. “You have your hands full with this one. She’s got a mind of her own.”

“I trust your judgment on difficult females.”

Tomasina relinquished the infant and stuck her hands in her back pockets. There was no need to get all soft and squishy over one little baby girl. “I know you’re looking out for Cowboy Creek, but I’m looking out for my crew. They’re gonna let loose one way or the other.”

“The answer is still no.” Will took the seat she’d vacated earlier. “I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing each other again. Best of luck, Miss Stone.”

“Oh, I don’t know...” Tomasina replaced her hat and tightened the strings beneath her chin. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other real soon.”

He’d thought he’d won, but she wasn’t giving up the fight just yet.

* * *

Will’s cane kicked up dust with each thudding stride.

Texas Tom had defied his orders.

His anger growing with each step, he followed the festive crowds swarming toward the stockyards. Chatter and laughter swirled around him, and a sense of excitement filled the air. Enterprising merchants had set up booths for food and drink along Eden Street, and knots of people clustered around the offerings. The scent of fresh-roasted nuts teased his nose. Carriages and wagons clogged the way, but no one seemed to mind the wait. The unofficial town band played near the temporary fairgrounds, and the chords of a toe-tapping melody drifted above the chatter.

Will caught sight of his friend Daniel Gardner and picked up his pace.

Daniel loped over then slapped him on the back. “Looks like the whole town turned out for Texas Tom’s Rodeo Show. I hope she’s a crowd pleaser.”

“Then you know Texas Tom is a girl?”

Daniel lifted his hat and raked one hand through his chestnut hair. “Doesn’t matter to me as long as she puts on a good show.”

“I can’t believe you encouraged this risky display.” Will didn’t bother hiding his annoyance. “The last time someone staged a show, two men suffered broken limbs. A fight broke out in the saloon, and someone knocked over a kerosene lamp. Nearly burned down half the town. Mr. Frye dug two bullets out of the livery.”

“You’re not the captain anymore.” Daniel’s jaw tightened. “You’re not in charge.”

“We agreed on the rules for the town.”

“We did. Except the stockyards aren’t part of the town proper.”

Not only had Texas Tom gone around Will’s back, she’d enlisted the support of his closest friend.

The betrayal smarted. “It’s your choice.”

“Look, if I’d known you were dead set against the show, I’d have acted differently. It’s too late now.” Daniel shrugged. “I’ll help you keep an eye out for trouble. Sheriff Davis is here, as well.”

“What about Leah?”

“She stayed home. She’s resting.”

“Probably for the best.” Will’s anger waned. They’d been through too much to let something like this alter their friendship. “I need you on lookout.”

“You’ve had one of your hunches, haven’t you?”

“Something like that.” During his years in the war, Will had learned to trust his instincts. His men had learned to do the same. “Keep a sharp eye out.”

“I own the stockyards, remember? I’m not letting anything happen.” They’d nearly reached their destination, and Daniel slowed his pace. “I’m sorry about the rodeo. I didn’t think you’d care as long as we kept it outside town. How long are you going to be sore?”

“I’m not sore.”

His friend visibly relaxed. “Hey, Leah told me about the abandoned baby. What—?”

“Daniel!” someone shouted.

They turned and caught sight of Sheriff Davis jogging in their direction. He halted in front of them and stated without preamble, “I’ve got some bad news.”

The sheriff was a tall, broad-shouldered and lean-hipped man with a thick mustache that enveloped his upper lip. He was dressed in his usual uniform of a brown vest and jacket over a white shirt. A good man, he’d been a fine choice for keeping the law in Cowboy Creek.

Will smoothed his beard with a thumb and forefinger. “What is it this time?”

“We caught some fellows by the railroad cars.”

“Not again.” Will and Daniel exchanged a glance. “Did they take anything?”

“Not that I know of.” The sheriff leaned closer. “They were sniffing around the supplies again.”

Will made a sound of frustration. The saboteurs had caused plenty of problems already. They’d burned a shipment of wood, stolen supplies and poisoned several dozen head of cattle. The town council had hired extra guards for the railcars and the lumberyard. Instead of backing down, the vandals had grown more brazen.

“Do you think it’s the Murdoch Gang again?” Will asked.

“Maybe, maybe not.” The sheriff shrugged. “Those boys robbed a church in broad daylight. I don’t see them keeping to the shadows.”

“You’re probably right.” With most of the town gathered for the rodeo, this was the perfect time for another strike. “Why don’t we—”

Raucous applause drowned out his words. Will and Daniel exchanged another glance before heading toward the corral. Since most of the townsfolk knew Daniel owned the stockyards, the crowds parted for them. People lined the entire circumference of the corral and crowded two and three deep in some places. Only a few feminine hats stood out against the mostly male crowd.

Upon reaching the fence, a distinctive paint horse carrying a redheaded rider galloped through an open gate. In a blur the pair sped around the corner and cut a diagonal across the center of the corral. Dirt clods kicked up by speeding hooves peppered the delighted audience. As Tomasina raced by, the men waved and shouted encouragement. With a flying lead change, the duo switched courses and curved across the opposite side, then galloped back toward the center once more.

The rider pulled up short. At the sudden stop the animal’s hooves cut trenches in the soft earth. The horse sidestepped left and back again. Horse and rider wheeled in a tight circle then changed directions just as quickly before stilling once more. The boisterous spectators shouted and whistled.

Tomasina Stone, better known as Texas Tom, waved to the crowd from her perch. Only then did Will notice the horse wore no saddle or bridle. Tomasina had controlled the racing animal with nothing but her legs and heels. The dawning realization sent a collective gasp erupting from the audience.

Clearly feeding off the attention, she bent one knee and braced it on the horse’s haunches then pushed off until she was standing. She wore her familiar leather-fringed chaps and blue chambray shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons on the flap pockets. Hatless in the afternoon sunlight, her flowing red curls glistened.

Save for the flicker of its tail, the horse remained motionless. The crowd grew hushed. Balancing on the paint’s back, Tomasina swooped her arms higher, urging the men into a cheer. Her plea was met with thunderous whoops and hollers.

Even Will had to admit she was magnificent. Her smile was infectious, her confidence alluring. Every man in the audience was admiring her, as well. An unexpected surge of jealousy caught him by surprise. The urge to protect her was nearly overwhelming. Not even Dora had inspired this confusing flood of emotions. Yet this slip of a girl he’d only met a handful of times had him captivated.

In an instant the mood changed. Her balance faltered. The horse lunged forward. Tomasina vaulted into the air. Strangled cries sounded from several onlookers. Will instinctively pitched forward. She landed in a crouch then popped upright and swept one arm across her stomach in a shallow bow. Her trick drew deafening applause. A vein throbbed in Will’s temple. The whole thing had been a stunt.

She whistled, and the horse veered straight at her. Though Will knew by now her act was all for show, the muscles in his shoulders tensed. At the last second Tomasina neatly sidestepped and caught the horse’s mane in both hands. Using the forward motion, she swung one leg over the animal’s haunches and resumed her seat once more.

Will’s knuckles whitened around the top rail of the corral fence, his heart thundering in his chest as he watched the scene unfolding before him. Tomasina spun her mount and trotted toward him. Her vivid green eyes pinned him in place.

Halting in front of his spot on the fence, the horse’s hooves kicked more dirt over his boots.

With her mischievous grin firmly in place, Tomasina winked at him. Apprehension snaked up his spine. His instincts were correct once again.

Texas Tom meant trouble.

She flourished one hand. “For my next trick, I need a volunteer from the audience.” She sidled her horse nearer Will’s vigil and extended her arm, indicating him with a hand encased in a fringed leather glove. “How about you, kind sir? Are you man enough to take on Texas Tom?”