by Kristen Iten
Chapter 11
The last traces of daylight had vanished, leaving a thick blanket of darkness over the land. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds every once in a while, giving brief glimpses into the shadowy, silver world of night.
Long shadows of trees danced on the ground to the rhythm of the song of the night as the wind whipped through their branches. Somewhere off in the distance, a pack of coyotes yipped and howled as they bounded across the open spaces in search of their next meal.
Spending the night outdoors had always been Micah’s favorite part about living life on the trail as a roving lawman. Something about it focused his mind. He was grateful for the focus it brought him tonight.
He breathed in the crisp air and cleared his mind of every thought but getting Rosie to her cousin’s home before the unthinkable happened. It wasn’t easy, but he couldn’t allow his mind to drift to thoughts of an impossible future with the woman seated by his side. They continued on toward the homestead, hoping that her cousin’s home was not much farther.
A small, dilapidated shack of a house came into better view as they approached. Light not only streamed out through gaps in the now shuttered windows, it poured through gaping seams in the walls themselves. It looked as if all it would take was one sturdy gust of wind to topple the whole thing over.
At one point, someone had started to put up a split rail fence. Micah wondered if they had run out of material or motivation, because it only extended partially around one side of the house. Much of it appeared to be in a state of disrepair.
He wrinkled his nose at the foul stench of the pig sty situated right in front of the home. “Never in all my days have I seen someone put hogs that close to the house.”
Rosie put a hand over her nose and mouth. “The air certainly is thick with pig, isn’t it?” She laughed. The pigs squealed and scurried around the pen as the carriage rolled by.
Before they had come to a complete stop, the front door of the house partially opened, revealing the long barrel of a rifle. “Who are y’all, and what are you doin’ on my property?” The brash sound of a woman’s raspy voice called from inside the house.
Micah raised his hands in the air. “We don’t mean no trouble ma’am. I’m Sheriff Micah Lagrange, and this is Miss Rosie Porter. We’re looking for the home of Margaret and Richard Blackwell. We got word they’re mighty sick.”
The woman lowered the barrel of her rifle as she stepped into view. “I’m the one who told Doc to send word.” She would have looked like nothing more than a skeleton draped in pale skin if it weren’t for the very pregnant belly preceding her through the doorway.
Several barefooted children followed her onto the porch, crowding the small space with grubby, curious faces. They all had the same stringy, blond hair as the surly woman.
“What a lovely family you’ve got—” Rosie was interrupted by a loud snore coming from the other end of the porch.
“Pay him no mind. That’s just my good-for-nothin’, drunk of a husband.” The woman plopped a toddling baby onto her hip, and spit-cleaned a particularly filthy patch on the child’s cheek.
“I’m sure he must be tired from a long day of hard work,” said Rosie. “We’ll try not to disturb him.”
A loud snort came from the slight woman. “Clive wouldn’t know a hard day’s work if it bit him on the rear end.”
“Daddy don’t work,” said a boy of about seven years. “He says that’s what we’re for.”
Micah cleared his throat. “We’d be much obliged if you could tell us how to find the Blackwell place, Ma’am.”
“I can tell ya, but I wouldn’t advise going there. It hasn’t had time to air out yet. The doc says they had the diphtheria.”
“I’ve come to help,” said Rosie. “I’ll happily submit to a quarantine if it means that I can nurse my cousin back to health.”
“She’s beyond nursing now,” said the woman. “Dead and buried this afternoon.”
Rosie lifted a shaky hand to her temple and lurched forward. Micah dropped the reins and took her in his arms. Warmth penetrated his heart as he steadied her in the seat next to him. He closed his eyes and took in the sensation of her body so close to his. She’d been through so much in the last few days. He’d give anything to ease the heart ache he knew she must be feeling. A painful lump formed in his throat when her body quivered with the sadness she was bottling up inside.
“The husband went two days ago. We all thought she had more time to pull through. I think she ran herself down trying to take care of him. Probably why she went so fast.”
Micah looked down at Rosie who sat motionless except for a trembling chin. She patted his arm and offered a nod. “I’m all right now.” She wiped away a tear that had escaped her glassy eyes. He wanted to hold onto her forever, but it was time to move on. The cool night air felt all the colder when he released her and reached for the reins.
“Thank you for having the doctor send word, ma’am,” said Micah. “We won’t trouble you any longer.”
He was about to head back to Sweet Creek when the woman called out, “I hope you’re plannin’ to do the Christian thing.” The woman’s voice sounded pinched and annoyed.
Rosie found her voice and spoke through stifled tears, never looking up from her lap as she picked at the hem of her sleeve. “What does she mean?”
The woman yelled over her shoulder. “Ida Mae.” A young girl who looked to be about eight years old appeared in the door. Her thin, blonde hair hung down the middle of her back in a messy braid.
She was the very image of her mother, or rather what her mother must have looked like once upon a time, before life had worn away all of her soft edges. She held a small bundle in her arms and cooed softly into the blanket.
“Hand it over.” Her mother motioned toward Micah and Rosie with a flip of her wrist.
The young girl’s face fell. “Yes, ma’am.” She obediently stepped out into the cool night air.
Shock flew through Micah’s body when he saw what the girl carried. Leaping out of the carriage, he met her halfway. He knelt down in front of her and took the bundle from her as delicately as if it were made from the finest China. “Thank ya, little Miss. Why don’t you get on back inside out of this cold night air.”
The little girl looked into his kind eyes and smiled before turning to run back into the house.
Micah stood slowly and cradled the bundle high on his chest. His heart melted when he saw the long eyelashes of a sleeping baby resting on its soft, chubby cheeks.
“What is it, Micah?” Rosie spoke without looking up.
He turned to face her with a wide grin across his face. “I think you’re going to like it.”
Rosie sat in the carriage, still reeling from the news of her cousin when Micah walked up cradling the bundle in his arms. He knocked his hat off with the back of his hand, allowing it to hang from his neck by its leather stampede string. The light streaming from the open door of the house illuminated the side of his face, a broad smile deepening his laugh lines.
She gasped when he stepped up to the carriage and placed a sleeping baby in her arms. Her eyes blinked wildly as she looked at the angelic face resting so peacefully in her embrace. A rush of butterflies filled her stomach when she gazed into Micah’s beaming face.
“I don’t understand?” Rosie looked from Micah to the woman on the porch, questions filling her eyes.
“What’s to understand?” The woman shooed her children indoors. “Your cousin died and left behind that baby. I got my hands more than full with my own brood. I can’t be raisin’ no child of a stranger—I got enough mouths to feed already. You’re his blood kin, do with him as ya like. It’s no affair of mine.”
Rosie ran the back of her index finger along the soft curve of the infant’s silky cheek. “It’s a boy.” Her hushed voice was breathless in wonder.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. His hands were clenched into tiny fists resting on either side of his round fac
e. She watched as his full lips suddenly puckered. His lower jaw worked up and down as he dreamed of suckling. Her fingers trailed lightly over the wisps of hair on the top of his head. She lifted the arm that cradled him and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.
The woman on the porch nudged the last of her children through the door before reentering the house herself. Micah called out just before she closed the door.
“Pardon me, ma’am. I don’t think the little man should be out in this chilled air. We’ve got a long ride back. Would you mind putting us up for the night? We wouldn’t be any bother at all.”
“I’ve got six children and myself to house in this one room shack that we call home. There ain’t no more room in here for so much as a mouse.”
The clatter of the closing door didn’t stir the sleeping man sprawled out in the chair at the other end of the porch. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth and trickled down through a tangled mess of a beard.
Micah was about to climb back into the carriage when the door suddenly opened again.
The woman stood in the doorway, her willowy arms folded across her chest. She heaved a sigh. “Go ‘round to the back. Y’all can sleep in the barn. It’ll be warmer there than in the house tonight, I dare say. The hay will keep ya from freezin’.”
“There ain’t nothing to heat the house with.” She nodded her head toward her sleeping husband. “That ain’t chopped a lick of wood in weeks.” She rested her hand on her pregnant belly. “And I can’t chop none, or this one will pop out.”
“We’re much obliged, ma’am,” said Micah. Rosie still sat transfixed by the infant in her arms.
The woman grunted in reply and closed the door once again.
The full moon peeked out from behind the clouds in the clearing sky, bathing everything in a silver-white light. Micah led the horse to the modest barn and came around to help Rosie out of the carriage.
“Should I give the baby to you? I don’t know how to get down. I’ve never done it holding a baby before.” She had a trace of laughter in her voice while her brows knitted together in confusion.
“How about you hold little man, and I hold you?”
Her jaw hung open for a moment as her pulse raced. She was sure she saw something more in his eyes than his words revealed. The thought was quickly banished and brushed off as a trick of the light. He made his feelings quite clear yesterday—stop looking for things that aren’t there.
Micah took her elbow in one hand as she turned to the side and reached out with her foot to find the step to dismount. He stepped up behind her and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He lowered her and the baby to the ground effortlessly.
Rosie turned in his arms to face him with a pounding heart. Her chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. Micah’s hand slipped up her arm. The gentle strength she felt as his strong hand wrapped around her slender arm sent a warm shiver down her spine.
She stretched to her full height as her lips were drawn to his. Her heart took a wild leap when Micah cupped her cheek in his hand and leaned in close. Never before had she been so spellbound by anyone. She felt his warm breath on her lips just as they stopped short, blocked by the bundle she held in her arms. The baby, wrapped in blankets, filled the remaining space between them. Rosie squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled deeply.
Micah released her arm and stepped back. “I’ll make up a bed for you and little man.”
Rosie stood by and watched as he pulled the wide barn door open and set about making things ready for them. Her head still spun from what had just happened between them. There is more going on inside that man than he lets on, and I’m going to find out what it is.
Chapter 12
Rosie cradled the sleeping baby in her arms, nestling into a large pile of hay in a corner of the barn out of the drafty night air. She watched as Micah tended to the tired horse that had brought them to this little place out in the middle of nowhere. Her heart swelled as his gentle hands freed it from the harness tethering it to the carriage. She’d never known a kinder man than Micah Lagrange.
The horse pawed at the ground and tossed his head. “Whoa, boy.” Micah ran a soothing hand down the length of its neck. “You’ve had a long day. It’s time to rest up now.” He gave the horse a full rub down, taking the time to ease its skittish nerves along the way.
After leading the animal into the only stall, he took an old, battered bucket from a hook on the wall. He filled it at the well and let the horse drink its fill. The presence of a slumbering nanny goat in the corner of the stall seemed to reassure the weary animal. The horse gave a soft snort of contentment as Micah patted its withers.
All the while, Rosie sat and watched from the darkened corner with one burning question on her mind. Emboldened by the shroud of darkness veiling her face, she struck up a conversation she’d have never dared to start in the broad light of day.
“You love me, don’t you?” Her cheeks filled with red hot blood the second the words left her mouth. The silence that followed was as thick as the darkness stretching between them. His feet swished through the hay on the other side of the barn. Her heart pounded louder in her ears with each moment that passed before he finally answered.
“I do.” His deep, bass voice resonated through the night air despite the softness of its tone.
She had known all along that he loved her, but hearing him say the words stoked the fire Micah had kindled in her heart long ago. “Then why …” She searched her mind for the right words to say, but the shock of his plain answer had sent her head into a spin.
“A long time ago, something very bad happened to the people I loved. It was all my fault.” His voice was thick with a heart-rending sadness. He rested his hand on the horse’s withers.
Curiosity drove her to speak. “I’m trying to understand, Micah, truly I am. But I need more.” She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing pulse. There was no guarantee she’d ever have an opportunity like this again. She had to keep him talking. “What happened all those years ago?”
“I reckon I owe you that much.” His head drooped as he walked to the wide barn doors and leaned his long body on the frame. “I was a young man of twenty-five years, working hand-in-hand as a deputy with a Federal Marshal. We were tracking the Dawson gang. Remember them?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Not many people do. It was nigh on twenty years ago. They were the nastiest bunch of cut-throats that ever rode this side of the Rio Grande. It was our job to take ‘em down.”
Rosie listened intently to his story as she rocked the slumbering baby in her arms.
“Long story short, the ring leader, Wayne Dawson, was gunned down when we tried to bring him in. We did everything we could to take him alive, but he wouldn’t have it.” He shook his head slowly as he gazed up into the starry sky. “The rest of the gang didn’t take too kindly to losing their man. The youngest Dawson brother worked the whole gang up into a lather ‘til they were all madder than a nest of hornets. Then they came.” He folded his arms across his chest. “They came lookin’ for revenge, only we didn’t know ‘til it was too late.”
He lowered his voice to a broken, throaty whisper. “My young wife and baby daughter …” He cleared his throat and massaged it for a moment. “Those murderers thought I was home with my girls. They rode up, shot our place full of holes, and rode off like a bunch of cowards. I came home and found—”
Rosie’s heart broke anew when his voice cracked. Her eyes welled up with tears. All she wanted to do was rush to his side and comfort him in his grief. “I’m so sorry, Micah.” The words didn’t seem like enough—not nearly enough.
“If I weren’t a lawman, they’d still be alive to this day. Now, do you see why you and I can never be?” He rolled his shoulders and stood tall. His strong silhouette filled the doorway from Rosie’s perspective. “I made a promise to my girls when I laid them to rest. I vowed to devote the rest of my days to protecting the defenseless and bringing evil men to
justice.”
He closed the distance between them and knelt beside Rosie in the darkness. He took her hand in his. A wave of goose bumps traveled up the length of her arm at his touch.
“I also made a promise to myself. I promised I’d never put anyone else in danger ever again. If I were to lose you the way I lost them …” He brought her fingers to his lips.
“Shhh,” Rosie whispered softly. “There’s no more need for explaining.” They sat together in silence for a few moments, enjoying a closeness with one another they’d never known before. There were no more secrets. No more walls. Micah’s heart had been laid bare and Rosie was determined to protect it.
Dark shadows fell across Micah’s face as he stood in the moonlight holding an ax in his hands. He tightened his grip around the smooth wood of the handle, causing veins to bulge beneath the surface of his skin. A small log sat on the chopping block in front of him. Every muscle in his body tensed as he swung the blade in a wide arc through the air, landing a perfect blow that split the wood in two.
Small faces with large, round eyes popped into view through the window now and then, spying on the tall stranger. He had been at work for some time. The freshly cut pile of wood had grown considerably since he first started.
Every swing of the blade settled his heart a little more. It had rattled him to the core to share the secrets of his past he had locked so tightly away for such a long time. Though it was painful to speak of, sharing his heart with Rosie had lifted a considerable weight off of his chest, and for that, he was grateful.
Micah landed one final blow on the stump, embedding the blade in its surface. He lifted his hat and wiped away the sweat glistening on his forehead despite the cool temperatures. He filled his arms with enough wood to keep the young family warm for the night. Dry grass crunched beneath his boots with each step he took as he made his way to the back door.
The woman they had met a little while before opened the door. The tiny legs of a sleeping child dangled from beneath her arm, while her rosy cheek pressed into the woman’s boney shoulder. The hard lines of the woman’s face softened when she raised her light green eyes to meet Micah’s. “You can just put that over by the stove,” she said.
