Tanner (Bachelors and Babies Book 14)

by St. John, Cheryl

  By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book or eBook. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.

  Please note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this book or eBook via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  Copyright © 2020 by Cheryl Ludwigs.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  Cover design © Charlene Raddon https://silversagebookcovers.com

  **

  Dedicated to those who help me write better books:

  Bernadette Jones, Bobbie Sue Brown, Robyn Roberts,

  RAH brainstorming groups,

  and my treasured FriNite critique group.

  Thanks to Charlene Raddon for her invitation

  to participate in this delightful series

  and to Pam Crooks for her guidance.

  I appreciate the talented authors who paved the way.

  The time period surrounding the American Civil War includes some of the most atrocious human behavior in history. Glamorizing it would be doing an injustice to those who suffered the most. In 1860, the final census taken before the war, there were four million slaves in the south, compared to less than 0.5 million free African Americans in the whole of the United States. We can’t erase this gruesome history, but we can learn from it and improve.

  Between 1865-1870, the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth amendments were added to the Constitution, abolishing slavery, granting equal protection under the law, and establishing voting rights for Black men. Despite these protections, America still suffers from its violent and racist past. If you take away anything from this book, I hope it’s that we’ve made progress, but that we still have a long way to go.

  He’s focused on the future…

  The past is all she knows.

  Together they’re forced to face today.

  His months in Salisbury prison taught Union Captain Tanner Bell to detest a Southern drawl, and Widow Cranford’s exaggerated Dixie twang has him gritting his teeth. His plans for a ranch are threatened when his orphaned newborn niece is delivered to him, and he desperately needs the landlady’s help.

  Raylene Cranford survived a Georgia winter living on acorns and scrawny rabbits before traveling sixteen-hundred miles to carve out a life in Colorado. She lost everything—except her dignity and hope. Her feminine Southern graces are her armor, but maintaining appearances could cost her love.

  Can a Southern belle and a Union soldier change deeply-ingrained misconceptions about themselves for the sake of a child?

  Chapter One

  Twin Springs, Colorado, 1867

  Tanner climbed paint-chipped worn stairs to the three-story home on Golden Street. The sidelight windows on either side of the door were clean, but the cracked putty around the glass sorely needed replacing. The brass doorknob had been polished to a shine. The railing was in need of repair, but a pink geranium bloomed in a clay pot beside the door, like a pitiful cry for hope. The home had once belonged to the town banker, but a few months ago, the man’s niece had inherited it and turned it into a boarding house. News about town was she had a few boarders already.

  He rapped on the door, and a moment later a fair-haired young woman in a blue-plaid ruffled dress greeted him. “Good afternoon, suh.”

  “Ma’am.”

  She wasn’t overly pretty, but she was fair-skinned and delicate-looking, her blond hair brushed to a sheen and swooped back with a wide ribbon. Silver filigree earrings bobbed from her lobes when she tilted her head. “May I help you, suh?”

  She drew out ‘sir’ with a Southern accent that grated on his Yankee nerves.

  He removed his hat.

  Her crystal blue gaze lifted to the shock of hair he’d exposed to the sunlight and back to his eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Tanner Bell. I’ve come seeking a room for my sister who will be arriving in a few days. I own the livery and have sleeping quarters there, so I need a proper place for her to stay.”

  “Come in, Mr. Tanner. I’m Missus Raylene Cranford.” She stepped back and ushered him inside the wide maple-floored foyer. The house was spotlessly clean, and the scent of lemon oil hung in the air. “As you saw by the sign, I do have rooms available. How large of a space will your sister be needing?”

  “Nothing fancy. I’m hoping to find or build a house for the two of us before long. Well, for the three of us, actually. She’ll be having a child very soon.”

  “Oh.” She paused a moment.

  Was a baby going to be a problem? His sister’s husband had succumbed to wounds suffered late in the war, and immediately upon hearing the news, Tanner had wired Vivian funds and assured her she would have a home with him in Twin Springs.

  “She’s a widow?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, she will be in good company here,” she told him with a nod that bobbed her earrings. “I’ll see to it she’s comfortable.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Visible from the foyer, every table in the sitting room held a statue or vase or fancy ornament of some sort. A clock in the nearby hallway ticked the echoing passage of time.

  “I have rooms on the third floor and a room on the second,” she said. “Perhaps the second floor would be best, and it offers magnificent light.”

  “Probably the less stairs for her, the better,” he agreed.

  “Come right this way,” she said, drawling out the word.

  She led the way, trailing scents of lavender and fresh cotton. He likely smelled of horses, so kept his distance. At the top of the stairs, she approached a door and opened it. Daylight poured across the burnished wood floor. Like every other room, this one was spotless. A comfortable-looking bed afforded a bounty of plush coverlet and pillows upon a thick mattress. The bright roomy bedroom held a tall chest of drawers, a wash stand, a deep blue velvet fainting couch and two chairs. Filmy curtains had been tied back, and one of the three wide windows was open to the fresh air. The fireplace was clean, though there was no wood handy for burning.

  He could hardly take in the luxury. Her uncle had been a banker, and a good many Northern investors had profited from the war. Apparently, Mrs. Cranford was the recipient of her uncle’s good fortune. “This will do just fine. Just fine. My sister will be very comfortable here.”

  “Meals come with the room, of course,” she told him. “Bathing and laundry facilities are available.” She quoted him the price, and he quickly accepted.

  “I’ll pay you three months in advance.” He took cash from his vest pocket and counted out the amount. “Hopefully by then I’ll have a place for both of us.”

  She rested her fingertips at her collar in surprise. “That’s more than generous, Mr. Tanner.”

  “I very much appreciate a safe home for Vivian.”

  She accepted the money. “She’s fortunate to have a consider
ate brother to look after her.”

  “I’m looking forward to having her with me.”

  She led him back down the front stairs. “I shall look forward to meeting your sister.”

  He opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, glancing down at boards in need of replacing, and settled his hat back on his head. “Good day.”

  On Thursday, the sun rose and burned off the night’s moisture. Tanner dressed in his Sunday trousers, a white shirt and tie, and hitched a shiny black gelding to an open carriage. Through a multitude of delays, the railroad still hadn’t reached Colorado, so he’d immediately offered to travel to Omaha to deliver Vivian the rest of the way. She had declined, however, insisting that she and her two young companions who were coming west to meet husbands would be fine on their own. Vivian was happy to travel by stage with them. He’d reluctantly agreed to her plan.

  He studied the horizon, green with Spring foliage, the mountains beyond still capped with snow. The Rockies were very different from Ohio, and Vivian would appreciate seeing Colorado’s rugged beauty once again. She’d been an adventurous child, and the two of them had enjoyed many carefree days riding and exploring. Vivian’s husband had been a doctor, one of the first to join the Union troops, which had seemed safe at first—and temporary when they’d thought the skirmishes would be over within a few months.

  Tanner had been camped flanked by swamps in Craven County, North Carolina under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Hiram Anderson when he’d received news of his brother-in-law’s injury. Tanner had served as a captain for the previous two years, had seen men on both sides injured and killed. He had delivered dire reports and received bitter news, but this information delivered on the eve of a battle had nearly broken him. Robert was the love of Vivian’s life, and theirs was a bond and a love he’d envied.

  Thoughts of Vivian’s fear had tormented him. Months later, he’d learned Robert had survived, but was an invalid. Tanner had been thankful his sister still had her husband.

  And then weeks ago he’d received Vivian’s telegram saying that in his weakened state, Robert had not survived another winter. His sister was widowed—and expecting a child. Tanner wanted only to take care of her, to ease her burden. Now he would be able to do that. He’d looked forward to her arrival ever since she’d agreed to come west.

  “There’s the stage!” A bandy-legged frizzy-haired old fella a few feet away grinned and waved his hat.

  Tanner brushed his trouser legs clean with his own hat and watched with anticipation as the team of horses drew the creaking Concord Coach closer in a cloud of dust and drew it to a stop beside the station.

  The driver, dressed in dungarees and a vest with a faded red silk bandana around his neck, climbed down and opened the coach door. The first person to step through the opening to the ground was a plump woman in a steel gray traveling dress and a matching bonnet. She broke into a gap-toothed grin and enveloped the gentleman who waited beside Tanner. He patted her awkwardly on the back. “I’ll git yer bags.”

  Tanner’s attention riveted on the open coach door as a pair of women’s brown boots and a dusty skirt hem came into view before the young woman emerged. She wore a green dress and a straw hat, and beneath the hat, her hair was extremely curly and orange-red. In her arms, she held a cotton-wrapped bundle. She spotted Tanner and hurried toward him.

  He nodded politely, glancing to his side to see if anyone had come to meet this female.

  “Mr. Bell?”

  His gaze shot to hers. “Yes.”

  “Mr. Bell. I’m Laura Wright.”

  He glanced back at the stage. “Pleased to meet you. How did you know who I was?”

  “Vivian described you in detail. You look exactly as your sister said you would. Your hair is the same vibrant color as hers.”

  Confused, he studied her freckled cheeks and pale brows under the brim of the hat. “Has she been delayed?”

  “No, sir.” Her hazel-green eyes filled with tears. “Mr. Bell, your sister didn’t survive the trip. I’m sorry, but she passed away in Ogallala. I sent a telegram, but apparently the wires were down.”

  Tanner backed up as though distance could spare him the life-changing facts.

  Miss Wright followed. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this way.”

  He found the backs of his knees at the wooden bench that ran the length of the small station and sat with a plop. Vivian was dead? His sister was gone?

  Miss Wright seated herself near him.

  He stared out across the grass. “What happened?”

  “She was weak. She’d been grieving her husband, not eating properly. She didn’t survive long after the baby came.”

  “I didn’t think the baby was due for a while yet.”

  “She’s very tiny. But she seems healthy.”

  He wasn’t hearing her. “I should have gone to her. I shouldn’t have let her travel alone.”

  “Respectfully, sir, I don’t think that would have made a difference. Vivian was in a weakened condition when we left Ohio.”

  “I could have taken her to a doctor. I could have done something.”

  “She had a doctor. And a midwife, and another traveling companion and myself. She was well cared for. You can rest assured about that. Miss Pederson met her intended in Logan County back aways, and I’m meeting my husband-to-be in Leadville.”

  The extent of his loss hadn’t sunk in yet. The landscape before him was a blur.

  “So, you see, Mr. Bell, I only have the rest of this hour to tend to a few necessities and get back on the stage.”

  He nodded numbly.

  She stood and blocked his view. He looked up at the same time she leaned forward and placed the cotton-wrapped bundle in his arms. The package was warm and feather-light. “I have some bottles and changing cloths for you. A couple changes of clothing as well. I believe there is a trunk coming on another stage though.”

  Through his grief-numbed mind, reality sunk in and this unbelievable scene came into focus. With two fingers, he peeled away the cotton wrap to reveal the tiniest, most perfect creature he’d ever seen. Flawless pink skin, wisps of silky dark hair, tiny lashes on peacefully closed eyes, a nose smaller than the tip of his pinky finger. The baby’s miniature lips were posed in an angel’s kiss.

  His throat constricted.

  His eyes burned.

  His chest ached.

  Vivian’s newborn baby.

  The driver placed a small satchel at Tanner’s feet. “This is all there is, but a trunk will follow. Real sorry for your loss.”

  Laura Wright had visited the station and was now heading back to the stagecoach. She’d cared for Vivian, helped her in her time of need, and then cared for this infant the remainder of the trip. Tanner got to his feet. “Miss Wright?”

  She stopped and turned back.

  “What’s the baby’s name?”

  “She doesn’t have a name yet.”

  “She?”

  “You have a beautiful niece.”

  “Thank you. For helping Vivian.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Bell.”

  “I wish you the best with your new husband.”

  She smiled at him then. Whoever he was, her intended was a fortunate man to get such a kind and caring young woman as his wife.

  Laura Wright nodded and boarded the stage.

  Tanner watched it go, feeling as though hope had once again vanished. What was he going to do with a newborn?

  He held the baby nestled in the crook of his arm as he led the buggy back to the livery. Samuel had been his father’s other liveryman for years, and now Tanner employed him. Samuel took the horse and unharnessed the animal. “Your sister didn’t arrive?”

  People would be asking. He’d told everyone he was expecting her. He steeled himself and looked at his friend. Samuel’s once-black hair showed gray all around his face, and deep crevices lined his forehead. “Vivian died before she could get here.”

  Samuel’s hands paused on
the leather. He turned. “Sorry, Captain.”

  Tanner nodded. Samuel had known both Tanner and Vivian since they’d been children. Samuel’s dark eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Tanner said more to himself than to the other man. “But I’m going to have to figure it out.”

  In his rustic narrow room at the rear of the livery, Tanner placed the sleeping infant on his bunk. He had no idea how long babies slept, but he’d been around enough newborn animals to know that when they woke up, they were hungry.

  He opened the bag Miss Wright had left for him and found two glass bottles with rubber nipples, a small stack of cotton squares, and two tiny gowns. There was a folded note, which had been carefully written in ink, and then additions scribbled in a different handwriting. One or more persons had jotted down tips for what to feed the baby. The preferable option was a wet nurse. He knew no one who would fit that criteria. Goat or sheep’s milk—that he could likely manage. Boiled canned milk mixed with crumbs made from baked malted wheat rusks. He was going to need help.

  “Samuel!” he called.

  “Captain?”

  “I need you to do something for me. If you would kindly find me a goat, I’d be appreciative. A female with milk.”

  Samuel nodded. “Sure thing. Happy to do it.”

  Samuel had only been gone fifteen minutes when the baby woke up and bawled like a newborn calf. Tanner figured out how to remove the urine-soaked diaper. His niece was the tiniest thing he’d ever seen. Her scrawny frog legs snapped back up against her abdomen every time he tried to straighten one out. Her entire face and body turned alarmingly red, and putting a fresh cloth on this squalling infant was near to impossible.

  He carried her to the doorway of the livery and strained to see any sign of Samuel. Desperate now, he wrapped the baby and carried her toward the mercantile. Mrs. Jenkins worked there with her husband, and she might know what to do.