"Most men don't," Mavis replied.
Starting to shake, Will left the room. He found Aggie and Roy in the kitchen. Roy was putting away pans and starting a meal for the next day.
"Everything okay, boss?" he asked.
"She's fine. The baby's fine."
Roy placed a cup of steaming coffee on the table. "There you go. What did she have?"
Will picked up the cup and took a sip. "A girl."
"What's her name?" Aggie asked.
Will shook his head. "Don't know."
He went outside where the air was cooler and took a deep breath. The scent of pines and horses was a welcome relief.
Cimarron sat on the top step. At the corner of the bunkhouse, Will could see the flicker of the fire where the others would be gathered.
"She's fine," Will told him. "So's the baby. A girl."
Cimarron grinned, jumped up and pumped Will's hand. "I'll go tell the men."
He sprinted away.
After finishing the coffee, Will removed his shirt, hung it on the porch rail and walked out into the yard where he pumped water, dunked his head and splashed water on his upper body.
Pausing while bent over the trough, he stared at his hands. They were shaking. He flexed his fingers, grabbed the soap and scrubbed his face, hands and arms. By the time he'd dried himself and walked toward the corral the trembling in his body had subsided.
The yawning ache in his heart, however, was still there.
Linnea was so grateful for Mavis's help and attention that she cried when she woke that night and found the woman sleeping beside her, fully clothed.
Mavis raised on one elbow. "What's wrong?"
"Your family needs you, and here you are."
"They'll get by for a day or two," she replied. "Do you need the chamber pot? Something to drink?"
Linnea nodded and Mavis assisted her. Afterward they both fell back to sleep. When dawn crept around the edges of the curtains, Mavis woke Linnea and handed her the baby she had just changed.
Linnea roused and took the infant to her breast.
"She caught on just fine." Mavis watched with approval. "I'm going to light a fire in the stove and get water."
"Roy will probably do it," Linnea told her.
"He's a right handy cowboy, isn't he?" Mavis asked with a grin.
Linnea nodded. "He and Will did the cooking and laundry before I arrived."
"I'd like to have seen that," Mavis replied.
"According to the other hands, they cooked well enough to not starve anyone to death, but the wash was another story."
With her hand on the doorknob, Mavis glanced over her shoulder. "Either one of them would make a fine husband."
Linnea looked down at the baby.
A second later Mavis hurried out of the room.
Sleepily Linnea closed her eyes, but was immediately visited by memories of the ordeal the night before. She hadn't been prepared for childbirth. But then, she hadn't been prepared for a child, period.
Thinking back over her life, she couldn't recall anything she ever had been prepared for…not for being evicted from the only home and family she'd ever known, certainly not for being married to a man who considered her a possession, not for the life she'd been forced to lead with him. Even her widowhood had been a shock, and neither had she been ready to work and support herself and a baby.
Now she definitely wasn't prepared to leave the comfort and security of the Double T, or the friends she'd made. How she would get by with a baby to care for she wasn't sure. She would have to find a position where she could work and take care of her daughter at the same time. How likely was that? Perhaps she could find a well-off family, one like Will's sister's, who needed a housekeeper and cook. She didn't know any fancy recipes, but now that she could read, she could learn. The thought gave her slim satisfaction.
The baby had fallen asleep nursing, and Linnea held her to her shoulder and patted her back as Mavis had showed her.
Mavis entered the room with a tray of food. The aroma of hot coffee and bacon made Linnea's stomach growl. "Oh, that smells good."
"Good, you're hungry." Mavis arranged the tray on Linnea's lap and took the infant from her.
Linnea eagerly picked up her fork and ate.
Mavis settled back into a rocker that had been moved into Linnea's room and held the baby on her lap where she could look at her. "She has delicate features like you."
"She isn't as red as last night. And her ears and nose aren't so smashed."
"No, I'd say she's about perfect."
Linnea smiled and sipped her coffee. It was rich and strong and tasted wonderful. The familiar everyday sounds of the ranch reached the open window-horses, men's voices, hammering. Ordinarily she would be hanging wash on the line about now, the morning sun warming her back.
"What are you gonna name her?" Mavis asked.
Linnea cradled the hot cup between her palms. She hadn't even thought about a name, she realized with a pang of guilt. There'd been so much else to worry about, she had completely ignored something that considerable. "I don't know."
"She needs a feminine name, don't you think? Nothing like Mavis.'' The woman shook her head as though scornful.
"How did you name your girls?"
"Our little ones all have Bible names," Mavis told her. "The girls were easy, because Rachel and Sarah were our mothers' names."
"That's lovely."
"What was your mother's name?" Mavis asked.
Linnea had jaded memories of a meek woman, bent and broken to the will of an abusive, demanding man. She wouldn't burden a child of hers with that legacy. "I think she needs a strong name," she replied.
Mavis stood and tucked the baby into the blanket-lined drawer she had prepared for her bed during the night. "You know best."
Linnea was thoughtful for several minutes. "Have you ever read Tom Sawyer?"
"I have."
"So have I. Do you think Becky is a good name? A strong name?"
Mavis appeared to think for a moment. "I believe so. It's short for Rebecca, and Rebecca is a Bible name. A fine one."
"Rebecca it is, then," Linnea decided, admiring the way the name sounded and imagining calling to her little girl a few years from now. She couldn't really imagine it though, because their future was so uncertain.
Mavis stayed another night, and on the following morning, Linnea insisted she go home to her family.
"You've been so much help," she told her. "And a comfort. I wouldn't have known what to do without you. Thank you so much."
"You'll still have questions," Mavis warned her, "so you have someone bring you to my place for visits now and then."
"I'll try. But I'm not sure how much longer I'll be at the Double T. My agreement with Mr. Tucker was that I'd leave after the baby came."
"Whatever for? It's obvious you run an efficient kitchen and have the household in order. The hands ask about you every meal, and Aggie thinks you're an angel. Will couldn't have any complaints about your work, so why are you thinking to leave?"
Linnea lowered her gaze to the faded quilt. "I deceived Will," she confessed.
"Deceived him how?"
"When I arrived, I didn't let on that I was going to have a baby. I wanted to prove myself and show I could do the job."
"And you have."
She shrugged and met Mavis's concerned eyes. "A baby wasn't part of the bargain when he hired me. It was a mistake not to tell him."
Mavis placed a stack of clean folded flannels on the bureau, then picked up Linnea's hairbrush. Linnea moved to the edge of the bed and Mavis sat behind her. "You did the best you could for both of you," she said firmly, and began to stroke the bristles through Linnea's hair. "Why, you'd just lost your husband and had to fend for yourself. You were carryin' a babe, to boot. I think you were very brave to come out here and take on such a hard job."
"You do?"
"I certainly do. I'm guessing that once you and Will have a chance to talk things t
hrough, you'll both see that for you to stay is the best thing." She continued brushing Linnea's hair, then began to gather strands from the front to the back for a braid. "Besides, I've seen the two of you together…the way he looks at you." She chuckled. "I'll bet he has ideas that don't include you leaving."
Linnea turned her head. "What do you mean?"
Mavis nudged Linnea's head forward again so she could work with her hair. "You know what I mean. Romantic ideas."
Heat flooded Linnea's neck and face. "No," she said softly.
"Don't tell me you're not aware. He danced with you on Independence Day—"
"A lot of people danced together, that doesn't mean anything."
"He's never looked at you in a certain way, a way that let you know he thinks you're…special?" She leaned over Linnea's shoulder and asked, "Perhaps kissed you?"
Linnea couldn't reply. Her heartbeat skittered crazily.
"Uh-huh, I thought so." Mavis chuckled and finished the braid. "The man has rocks in his head if he doesn't make you his wife."
"It's not like that," Linnea replied uneasily.
"Whatever you say."
Linnea knew Mavis thought Will had only to say a few sweet words and she'd fall into his arms and marry him. Even if Will knew any sweet words, Linnea wouldn't be staying. She had pressed her luck long enough.
"Thank you, Mavis. Thank you for everything."
Mavis packed the small bag she'd brought, gave Rebecca a last loving look and touched Linnea's cheek. "You come visit me now."
With a false smile, Linnea nodded. It would never be.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Linnea introduced Rebecca to Aggie that afternoon. Aggie blinked through her spectacles. "Tiny, ain't she?"
Linnea nodded and asked if Aggie wanted to hold her.
The old woman settled the snugly wrapped infant in the crook of her arm and rocked her while Linnea set about peeling potatoes and scraping carrots while sitting in the other rocker. A savory-smelling roast was cooking in the oven, and she added the vegetables.
The screen door creaked and Roy entered, removing his hat and hurrying forward. "What are you doin' out of bed? The boss'll skin me alive for lettin' you in here."
"You didn't let me in, I came on my own," she replied.
"If you're stayin', then you're sittin'," he told her firmly. "Go."
Linnea sat beside Aggie.
Roy's attention wavered to the baby Aggie held. "Is that her?" He walked forward and bent over the sleeping infant. The expression on his weathered face changed to one of awe. As she'd noticed before, Roy Jonjack was a nice-looking man. "She's a pretty little thing, Miz McConaughy. What's her name?"
"Her name's Rebecca." She took the baby back from Aggie.
He finished the preparations, set the table, made coffee and poured milk into pitchers. By the time the vegetables were cooked, the men started arriving. One by one, they quietly admired Linnea's daughter, then conspicuously departed and returned with gifts.
Clem had carved a pair of horses, Nash had found a pastel crocheted blanket somewhere and Ben a tiny pair of booties—Linnea suspected Mavis had helped with both of those items. Roy presented Rebecca with a fabric-covered box containing colorful silk ribbons. "Little girls need ribbons for their hair," he said.
"And Rebecca will be using them before long." Linnea smiled and fluffed the dark hair on her baby's head.
Cimarron moved forward last, carrying a large bundle covered with a wool blanket. He set the armload before Linnea, then swept away the covering to reveal a large, sturdy cradle.
The wood had been sanded and stained, polished to a lustrous sheen. Adorning the headpiece was a carving of running horses, manes and tails flying. "It's from all of us."
The interior was padded with blankets and a silver rattle lay atop them. "The rattle's from me," Cimarron added.
Linnea blinked back tears to raise her gaze to each man who stood in a semicircle before her. "Thank you, all of you," she managed to say in a choked voice.
Ben cleared his throat, and the men broke up their I gathering and took seats at the table.
Linnea's gaze discovered Will, standing beside the table where'd he'd been observing the scene as a bystander, like always. She hadn't seen him since the night Rebecca had been born. He moved toward her now. "You up to this?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes."
There was so much she wanted to say to him, but the room was filled with activity and Aggie sat right beside her.
Will's gaze fell to the baby in her arms. "Rebecca, huh?"
"It's a strong name."
"Mavis said she's healthy."
"She is."
He nodded. "Good."
He turned then and took his seat.
Linnea placed the baby in the cradle. The kitchen was warm, so she placed the soft blanket beside the baby. She and Aggie moved to sit at their places at the end of the table.
The hands smiled and Roy stood beside the women to hold the platters and bowls while Linnea dished out their servings.
Conversation swelled around Linnea, and her heart felt full as it had never been before. She looked from one face to the other. She knew much of these men's history from their tales of trail drives and family memories. She'd seen them work and play, had watched them react in emergencies and heard their teasing.
She didn't think it was only because of their fear of Will that they treated her with respect and concern. Will had chosen his "family" of ranch hands well. They were good, decent, hardworking men, the kind of men Linnea had never before encountered, and knowing them—knowing Will—had gradually turned her opinion of males inside out.
The Double T was more than a place to work. It had become of haven of sorts, a place where she felt needed and safe. The feeling was wonderful, because she'd never experienced such security; the feeling was terrible, because it was only a false security: she had to leave.
That evening, after Aggie had gone to bed and Linnea had fed Rebecca, she carried the baby to the porch to rock. The night sounds were comforting and the refreshing mountain breeze cooled the air. She hummed and enjoyed the opportunity to relax and hold her baby.
A tall broad figure approached the house and Linnea made out Will's familiar form. He climbed the stairs and removed his hat, hanging it on the branch of a box elder bush that had grown over the edge of the porch rail.
"Don't push yourself to do more than you're ready for," he told her.
Always in charge, always giving orders, but she'd come to trust his judgment for the most part, and now suspected that some of the bossiness was just blustering. "I won't."
"Nash and I started the springhouse today," he told her.
"I heard the men's talk about moving stones last week," she replied.
"Complaining, more likely."
She tipped her head noncommittally. Ben and Clem had been jawing about their aching backs and arms. "So it's to be a stone structure nearby?"
"Built over the spring where we've been storing milk and butter in crocks and jars all this time. The water running down from the mountains is ice-cold year round. We'll be able to store meat and perishables and keep animals out."
"Rebecca and I will walk over and see it in a day or so."
Silence lapsed between them, and she sensed there was something more he wanted to say. He didn't speak however, so she said, "I want to thank you. For helping with the baby, you know…"
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hips against the rail. "In case you don't recall, I said it was my fault that you didn't send for help sooner. I don't understand why you didn't want Dr. Hutchinson, but you'd told me so, and I was too pigheaded to let it go. If you'd trusted me, you could have told me and I would have sent for Mavis a lot sooner."
"It has nothing to do with not trusting you," she argued, feeling terrible that he'd think so. "It has nothing to do with you."
"Well…"
"No need to be sorry," she said quickly. "Everything
turned out just fine."
"Well, I'm sorry anyway. About other things, too."
She didn't know what he meant and he didn't say.
"When you're rested, Linnea, we'll talk more."
When she was rested, she'd be able to leave. That was what he wasn't saying.
Chest aching, she nodded.
"I'll take the cradle to your room. Do you need anything else?" he asked. "Can I carry water for you?"
"That would be nice." She got up and he followed her into the house.
After taking the cradle down the hall, Will returned. He dipped a pail of hot water from the well on the stove and carried it and a lamp to her room, where he poured water into the pitcher on the night table. Turning, he looked at her where she stood just inside the door. His gaze fell to the baby in her arms. He took a few steps closer.
"Would you like to hold her?" Linnea asked.
Without reply, he reached to take the baby from her. Rebecca's head fit in the palm of his enormous hand, and the rest of her body in the other. The baby's mouth formed an O and she stretched.
Cradling her against the front of his shirt, he held her securely in one arm. With a long finger, he touched her cheek and ear, then her tiny fingers. "So much more helpless than other creatures," he said. "Even a colt or a calf gets up and walks to its mother's teat right off. Babies can't do anything for themselves."
He glanced up and found Linnea looking at him. Turning, he placed the baby in the cradle. "Night."
"Good night. Will."
A week passed. Will finished the springhouse and Linnea and Rebecca visited the site. The small stone structure was charming, with four walls, a roof and a wooden door with a latch. Will had to bend over to pass through the opening, but Linnea passed under the doorway with the frame barely grazing her head.
Inside, it was as cool and crisp as a December morning in Kansas. Linnea breathed the air in surprise, snuggled Rebecca to her breast and covered her with the hem of her apron. "Oh, my!"
Water gurgled in through an opening on one side, caressed the crocks and pails in the trough down the center, and flowed out through the hole in the opposite wall. The trough was built with sides to hold containers and keep jars from floating away.
The Tenderfoot Bride Page 18
