The bell over the door was unnecessary, as all three people inside knew the instant he’d arrived.
“Where’s the missus?” Tanner called out to Homer Jenkins.
“Della!” Homer called. “Come out here.”
Della Jenkins was a tall woman, with brown hair in a braid that wound around her head. She hurried toward Tanner, wiping her hands on her apron. “Land sakes! What is this, Tanner Bell?”
“It’s my niece,” he answered over the frantic cries. He showed her the empty nursing bottle. “I don’t know what to do for her.”
“Where’s this child’s mama?” she asked with a quizzical frown.
“She’s my sister Vivian’s baby. She died on the way here.”
“Oh, oh, this poor little thing.” She took the baby from his hold. “You poor little dearling.” She reached for the bottle. “Give me that. Is it clean?”
“I—I’m not sure.”
“It’s going to take a few minutes.” Carrying the baby, she plucked a couple of items from shelves and headed for the back room. “You can help if you want, or you can go outside and clear your head.”
His head was going to burst if the child didn’t stop screaming, but he was responsible, so he followed Mrs. Jenkins.
“Use that basin and pour water from the kettle over the bottle and rubber tip, and a little more into this measuring cup.”
He did as she instructed.
She added canned milk, put on the rubber tip and shook the bottle, then tested the liquid on her wrist. “That’s cool enough. Give me your wrist.”
He held out his forearm, palm up.
“Can you feel that?”
“No.”
“Means it’s not too hot. If it was hot, you’d feel it. Okay, sit right here.” She pointed to a small table and chairs.
Once he took a seat, she handed him the baby, showed him how to keep her head up, and guided the nipple to her lips.
The infant immediately rooted at the tip for a moment and then latched on, sucking hungrily.
“Thank goodness,” he said.
“This will be good enough to get you by today, but we’ll have to figure out some better nourishment for her.”
“All right,” he said with a nod. “Samuel has gone is search of a goat. The note I was left said goat’s milk was adequate.”
“Yes, it will do nicely.”
Staggered by gratitude now that the baby wasn’t screaming, he looked up. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“What’s her name?”
“She doesn’t have a name.”
“She deserves a name, Tanner. She’s a beautiful child. She’s tiny, but she looks healthy and she suckles well.”
“I—I’ve barely just learned this. I went to pick up my sister, and I returned with a baby.” His mind was too fuzzy to think coherently. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“I reckon you’re going to do what plenty of other men have had to do. Find yourself a wife or someone to take care of her.”
He frowned. “I don’t even have a decent place to live—to take her to.”
“Seems you’ll need to find a suitable home, too.”
Overwhelmed, he shook his head and watched the baby nurse with her eyes closed. As her tummy filled, her sucking motions were less frantic.
“She won’t drink much at a time, but she’ll be hungry often.”
“How often?”
“Every couple of hours”
He raised his eyebrows and looked at the woman.
Della chuckled. “Her little belly is no bigger than your thumb.”
“She scares me.”
“Babies scare everyone with any sense. But you’ll learn.”
He pulled the bottle away and looked at the helpless little person he’d become responsible for.
“Now you have to set her upright to get the air bubbles out of her tummy.”
“What?”
She took the baby from him, rested her on a clean dish towel over her shoulder and gently patted her back. “If she’s too soundly asleep, wake her up a little so she’ll move a bit. Like this.”
She rubbed along the center of the baby’s back, until the infant straightened her body a fraction and burped.
“That was it?”
“That’s it. If you don’t get that air up, she’ll get a belly ache and cry non-stop. So, don’t forget.”
“No, ma’am, I won’t.” Last thing he wanted was a baby crying non-stop.
“I’ll wash this bottle for you and send the rest of the milk home for her next feeding. I’ll put a few more cans in a sack. And I’ll write you up a recipe to add to that goat’s milk.”
“Is it wheat kernels? I can’t thank you enough.”
“Tanner, you come back if you need anything. I mean it.”
He snuggled the baby. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll be back.”
Chapter Two
It was Wednesday, shopping day, and most of the women who lived along Golden Street were in town. Raylene did the wash on this day, in hopes that no one would notice her doing her own laundry. She took a freshly rinsed and wrung basket of bedding from her companion and lugged it toward the lines stretched behind the house.
Meriday and Raylene had been friends since childhood. They’d played together, grown up together, had the same tutor. However, while Raylene took music and social comportment lessons, Meriday’s mother had taught her how to run a household. It was Meriday’s skills that had made it possible for them to turn this lavishly appointed home into a boarding house, and feed the boarders. Raylene was still catching onto many of the chores, but she prided herself on being a fast learner.
She purposefully hung the wet sheets on the clothesline nearest the house, so their unmentionables could be hidden behind. A lady embodied propriety and modesty at all times—even in her darkest days, which seemed to be most all days since the war.
Raylene sat on a stool beside the washtub. “Tell me about a good day you remember, Meriday.”
The other young woman straightened and wiped her forehead with the back of her dripping hand. She paused in her work to think. “I remember an afternoon one late Spring when your mama had all her friends and their daughters gathered on the veranda. Mama and I had made those little lemon cakes with the confectioner’s sugar sprinkled on top, almond cookies, and scones with raspberry jam. Remember those scones?”
Raylene’s mouth watered at the reminder, and she nodded with a wistful smile.
“Mama and I got up while it was still dark, and she squeezed juice for us. We each had a soft-boiled egg before we started baking.” Meriday’s dark eyes took on a reflective look as though she was clearly seeing the morning of her memory. “I used to love to watch Mama’s hands while she mixed and stirred and kneaded. And the smells that came from the oven….” She closed her eyes and smiled. “I miss those smells.”
“That sounds like a very good day,” Raylene said softly.
“It was. You were wearing a yellow dress with dotted swiss ruffles around the hem, and your hair was pinned up in shiny ringlets.”
Raylene reached for the nightgown Meriday had rinsed, fed it through the wringer and turned the crank. “We lived on the same land and had the same teacher, but our lives were very different.”
“My family had a good life before the war, Raylene,” the other young woman said. “Far better than others had.”
Before Meriday was born, Raylene’s father had given her family and others their papers. Once they were free, most of them had stayed to work and raise families. Until she was older, Raylene hadn’t recognized how her father’s business had been impacted because of his principles, how one-time friends had disagreed with his ethics. Sometimes she wondered if finances were part of the reason her mother pushed her into a marriage.
The back-porch door creaked open, and Almira Hobbs called across the yard. “Mrs. Cranford, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”
Raylene quickly removed her soggy apron
and hung it over the stool before hurrying toward the back porch. “Thank you, Mrs. Hobbs.”
“You’re welcome, dear. I saw him into the sitting room.”
Raylene paused before the washstand inside the back door and dipped a cloth in cool water to dab her face. She quickly threaded her fingers through her hair in hopes of assembling it in satisfactory order, only managing to make it look as though she’d come in out of a windstorm. She rolled down her sleeves and buttoned the cuffs before taking a deep breath and heading for the sitting room.
A familiar tall broad-shouldered man rose from a straight-backed chair. “Hello, Mrs. Cranford.”
“Mr. Bell. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Has your sister arrived?”
His already flat expression revealed a problem. He dropped his gaze to his hand, now on the back of the chair. “No, ma’am.”
“I see. Was there a delay? Or has she changed her mind?”
He looked up to meet her eyes and pressed his lips together a moment before he spoke. “Vivian didn’t survive the trip.”
Oh, the news was too much. There’d already been too many deaths, so many losses. How could people go on bearing the loss of loved ones? She knew vividly the cavernous ache he was experiencing, felt it for him now, shared his grief and anger. She knew again the dreadful sensation of the world falling out from beneath her feet. Mere words were inadequate in the face of such a tragedy. But words were all she had. She took a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bell.”
A minute passed.
He nodded.
“If there’s anything I can do for you, without question, I will. I’ll refund the rent, of course.” She’d only now thought of the money. Three months’ rent in advance had already gone a long way in stocking the pantry without having to sell any more of the silver. She would have to sell something now to give him back his money, but it was selfish of her to think of her own need right now. The poor man was suffering.
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I still need the room.”
She was ashamed of the relief that quelled her concerns. “You do?”
“Yes. Vivian gave birth to her baby before she died. Her traveling companion brought her to me.”
Oh, my heavens, a baby. “Oh, I see.”
“So, you understand, I have an infant to care for. Living in the back of my livery will not do.”
“Yes, I do understand. Of course. The room is still yours. Yours and the baby’s.”
“Thank you. But there’s one more thing I have to ask of you.”
“All right.”
“I can’t very well keep her with me all day. I will need someone to take care of my niece while I’m working.”
Of course, he would need help. Someone must look after the infant when he couldn’t. There were quite a few women in Twin Springs, but most had families of their own or helped run businesses, and several were unmarried young women. Many were widows. She wasn’t friendly with them, so she didn’t know what help she could be in referring a suitable caregiver.
He was still looking at her as though expecting her to say something. What was he expecting her to say? A jolt went through her body. “Oh. Me? Are you asking me to take care of your niece?”
“I was hoping you would agree. I’ll be living here, so it would be convenient. Your home is clean and bright. It seems like an ideal environment.”
“Well, I—I don’t know…I don’t really know anything about babies….”
“I would pay you double the room price. A safe place is worth the cost to me.”
“Double the rent?”
“Yes, ma’am. Please consider it.”
How hard could it be taking care of a tiny child? From what little Raylene had seen, babies ate and slept. She could learn what she didn’t know. And she had Meriday to help if she had a problem. They’d endured worse than a tiny little baby, and they had managed together this long. Wait until Raylene told her the rent would be doubled. This house was their means to provide for themselves. She hadn’t survived a Georgia winter camped in the stone foundation of her burned-out family home, lived on acorns and scrawny rabbits, and then traveled sixteen hundred miles to get here and simply forfeit the promise of everything that had kept her alive.
She was a survivor.
“I’m sure I can learn whatever I need to know, Mr. Bell.” She gave a nod. “I agree to care for the child during the day.”
“Thank you.” Relief smoothed the lines between his brows. Raylene felt good about being able to help—and was delighted about the additional income. “Mrs. Cranford, would it be acceptable if I build a small pen in your backyard?”
“A pen?”
“Yes. I’ve purchased a goat for the baby.”
She tried to picture a goat in her yard. “Isn’t she a trifle young for a pet?”
“It’s not a pet, ma’am. It will produce milk for her.”
“Oh!” She waved a hand and then propped it on her hip. “Of course. Yes, of course. By all means make a pen for your goat.”
“Have you milked one before?”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No-o-o?”
“It’s not difficult. I’ll show you.”
“All right.” She’d deal with that when the time came. “When will you be settling in?”
“I’ll bring my things today, see what we need for the baby, and sleep here tonight. Tomorrow morning I’ll go to the livery and leave her here with you.”
“All right,” she said again. Tomorrow morning, she would have an infant to care for. All day. And every day after. “You will be here for the evening meal, of course.”
“I suppose I will.” He took a few steps toward the hallway that led to the front door. “Thank you, Mrs. Cranford. I couldn’t do this without your help.”
She smiled. “This door will be unlocked for your use during the day. It’s locked at night, but if you return late and knock, someone will let you in.”
He crossed the porch, and she closed the door behind him. Immediately, she darted through the house and out the back door to tell Meriday of their good fortune.
“A baby?” Meriday asked. “Do you know how much work a baby is? Why they cry and throw up half of what they eat—and soil diapers. Who is going to launder all those diapers?”
Raylene looked at her, feeling foolish for her hasty decision. “Well, I suppose we will.”
Meriday widened her eyes.
Raylene picked up the heavy basket of wet clothing. “He is paying double the rent for one room. Double.”
“Double, huh? Well, then I reckon we can wash diapers and put up with a squalling baby,” her friend consented with a shrug of her shoulder. “Long as the squalling doesn’t scare off the other boarders.”
Raylene hung their unmentionables behind the sheets and pressed out wrinkles with her palms. Taking care of the orphaned baby was the right thing, she was sure of it. Mr. Bell was obviously reeling from the loss of his sister, and he needed their help. One tiny baby couldn’t scare off their boarders.
That afternoon at a knock on the back door, Raylene stepped out, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I need your input on a good location for the pen.” Mr. Bell held a brown hat against his thigh by the crown. His wavy hair shined in the sun. Mr. Bell’s appearance was different than the last two times he’d been here. He was dressed in work clothes, boots, camel-colored trousers and a cotton shirt, suspenders over his shoulders. A tall gray horse stood a hundred yards away, behind it a cart loaded with a shovel, wood posts, and wire
“Where are you thinking?” she asked.
“Some protection would be beneficial, so near one of the trees. Convenient to reach from the house, but not so close that the enclosure will be offensive.”
“I see.” She didn’t know the first thing about animals or pens.
“We can also tie her in the yard during the day and move her from one spot to another,” he added. “She’ll crop grass.”
“
I trust your judgement.” She’d finished serving a cold lunch to her boarders, cleaned up, and hadn’t brought in the laundry yet. Her attention wavered to the flapping sheets, an afternoon breeze revealing intimate glimpses of cotton and lace hung discreetly behind. The sun was warm, so the items were dry enough to fold and bring in. “I’m sure wherever you choose will be acceptable.”
“I’ll get to work then.” He settled his hat with the brim shading his eyes and went to move the cart and supplies.
Rolling down her sleeves, Raylene dashed into the kitchen. “We need to take down the laundry. Mr. Bell has arrived, and we can’t have him gawking at our pantalettes and corsets.”
She grabbed the straw hat she never went out back without and handed Meriday her bonnet.
Meriday leaned to look out the window. “Appears he’s unloading posts, not gawking at the clothesline.”
“There are rules for gentility, and we are ladies.”
Meriday put on her bonnet and picked up two nested laundry baskets. Raylene held open the door.
“Where do you suppose the baby is?” Meriday asked.
“Ask him.”
“You ask him.”
Raylene shook her head. “We don’t want to draw attention to our task.”
They stood within the confines of the hanging sheets to unpin their clothing and haphazardly fold it into the baskets. Then, together, they folded the sheets and placed the neat squares atop the pile. Each of them carried a basket toward the house.
By this time, Mr. Bell had dug several holes in the earth and secured posts in them. Growing up, Raylene had never seen her father do more than sit at a desk or inspect horses, so she was prudently fascinated. But then she had never cooked or cleaned or done laundry until circumstances necessitated she do so. The war had changed their lives, their roles. Everyone did what was required to survive.
“Will you mind putting these away, Meriday? I’m going to go up into the attic and poke around.”
“Wear a kerchief over your hair. It’s dusty up there.”
With her hair covered and wearing an apron, Raylene climbed the narrow stairs to the attic and opened the shutters to let in daylight. Her mother’s brother had purchased this home as a newlywed and dwelled here over forty years until his death. He’d been married and raised two sons. One had died of a fever around the age of twelve, and the other in a train derailment at the beginning of the war. Mama always claimed Uncle Vernon’s wife had died of a broken heart in her thirties.
Tanner (Bachelors and Babies Book 14) Page 2
