“Yes, your daddy will be here soon.” She lifted him to her shoulder, and he strained to look toward the door. Her husband was the kind of daddy she wished hers had been. “Let’s get you cleaned up before he comes into the house.”
She loved every moment she spent with little Michael, and she knew when Franklin came through the door, their son would want his attention. Franklin gladly gave it to him.
After dawdling over washing Michael and dressing him in a clean, long white baby slip, she reached the front hallway just before Franklin entered. Michael’s arms churned the air as he strained toward his father. She had to keep her hand on the baby’s bottom to stop him from hitting the floor while diving toward Franklin.
Her husband plucked him from her arms and held him close, kissing and blowing on his neck and his tummy while the baby laughed and batted at his head. Lorinda enjoyed watching them. She wondered what kind of father Mike might’ve been. Since he hadn’t been around babies and although he loved her and physically let her know, he wasn’t very tender about other things. Perhaps Franklin was a better father than Mike would’ve ever been.
Her husband smiled at her, and her heart took a flip. “He smells so good. Did you just clean him up?”
“Yes. To get him ready for Daddy coming home.” She glanced down at the tips of her shoes that peeked out from under her skirt.
She had called Franklin Daddy in her own mind and often to their son, but she had never uttered the word out loud to her husband. She peeked back up at him, and his gaze locked on her face.
“What did you say?” His voice sounded husky.
“I got him ready for you.” Her answer came out tentative.
He clutched the wiggling baby in his arms, but his attention was trained on her. “That’s not all you said.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I said you were his daddy.”
A slow smile crossed his face until his eyes shone like the evening star. “I like that. I never called my father Daddy, but I want Michael to call me that. It sounds more approachable. And I want to be approachable...for both of you.”
His gaze held hers in an almost physical grip, and her breathing became shallow. So far he hadn’t made all the decisions as Mike had. She hoped that would continue through their marriage. “Thank you, Franklin.”
What else could she say? I want even more from you? Never in a million years would she have the fortitude to utter those words. Things were going great right now. She wanted to keep everything the way it was. On an even keel. To change anything could cause a disaster.
“I cleaned up in the barn, because I knew Michael would be wanting me as soon as I walked through the door.” Franklin gazed at his son, then looked up and sniffed. “Smells as if Mrs. Oleson has our supper ready. Good thing I already washed up.”
“Well, both of us worked on supper while the baby took a nap.” Lorinda’s smile felt like a special gift just for him. “I think I’ve mastered meatloaf. You’ll have to tell me if you like it.”
He wanted to put an arm around her and hold his complete family close. Wonder what she would do if I did.
She entered the kitchen before him.
Mrs. Oleson looked up from mashing the potatoes. “There you are, Franklin. I hoped you’d get here before the food got cold.”
“I didn’t want to miss whatever it is I’m smelling. I didn’t realize I was so hungry.”
With one hand, he raised the table tray attached to the high chair he’d ordered from the Montgomery Ward catalog at the Mercantile in Breckenridge. The copy said the legs were wider spaced so the child couldn’t tip it over and the tray would go over the child’s head until he had grown much taller. After sitting Michael in the chair and moving the tray so it was in front of him, he grabbed the tea towel Mrs. Oleson held for him and twirled it into a thick rope. He didn’t want the baby to slip out under the table, so he anchored him to the back of the high chair with the towel.
Michael laughed and beat his hands against the tray table, kicking his legs at the same time. What a racket! But Franklin enjoyed every minute of the noise. He loved having a happy baby.
Lorinda took a large spoonful of mashed potatoes and put them on a plate to cool. Then she and Mrs. Oleson set the rest of the food on the table. Enticing aromas of the meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans made his mouth water.
Before she could sit down, Franklin pulled his chair close to Michael. “Can I feed him tonight?”
She stopped and stared at him a minute, her eyes widened. “If you want to. I’m not sure if he’s very hungry.”
He grasped the small spoon she handed him, their fingers brushing briefly. He should have been more careful. Every time he touched her, his body reacted. Heat spread up his arm, and he had to look away. He wasn’t sure he could live years, even decades, like this. Whooshing out a deep breath, he dipped up a small amount of mashed potatoes and held them toward the baby. Like a little bird getting fed by its parent, Michael’s mouth popped open, and Franklin slipped the potatoes inside. He watched the baby suck on the food and roll it around in his mouth until it was gone.
That little mouth popped open again. Franklin gave him another small bite.
When Lorinda fed the baby, she took bites of her own food in between. Franklin could do that. He forked some meatloaf in his mouth before Michael finished his.
He glanced at his wife. “This is very good. I believe you’ll have to move on to learning to cook something else. You’ve mastered meatloaf.”
The rosy tint he loved crept into her cheeks, and she glanced down at her own food. “Thank you, Franklin.”
Michael banged on his table and opened his mouth. Franklin gave him another bite.
“Aren’t you going to say grace tonight?” Lorinda’s eyes twinkled as she glanced at him.
“Of course.” Heat rushed into his cheeks. How could he have forgotten something so important?
He bowed his head and blessed the food and the hands that prepared it. By the time he uttered those few words, his son was once again pounding his fists on the table tray. How do women keep up with everything so well?
Lorinda was quietly eating, but she looked up at him. He smiled at her and took another bite of the meatloaf.
Why had he waited so long to get married? Having a wife and child to come home to every night was wonderful.
At first, Lorinda wasn’t thrilled with Franklin feeding their child. Even Mrs. Oleson hadn’t asked to do that. But the men of the house were having so much fun, she pushed down the flicker of jealousy. She glanced out the window and drank in the beauty of the mountains. That always settled her.
As Mrs. Oleson had told her, Franklin had gradually changed since the wedding. He became more talkative about the ranch, and Lorinda enjoyed hearing what was going on.
“So what were you doing today, Franklin?” She slowly turned her cup of tea in its saucer.
“We had to brand all the new calves. It’s a dirty, smelly business.” He slipped another bite into the baby’s waiting mouth. “That’s one reason I washed up in the barn. During branding, I always keep extra clothes out there so I won’t bring the stink into the house.”
She grinned. “I’m sure glad you do.” She nodded toward Michael. “This little guy makes more than enough messes that don’t smell very good.”
Mrs. Oleson and Franklin joined her laughter. Lorinda enjoyed their banter. For too long, things had been uncomfortable in the household. Now they had settled into a pleasant relationship.
While Franklin fed the baby another bite, she took the chance to really study her husband. Since the first time she laid eyes on him, she’d realized just how handsome he was. It used to make her uncomfortable. Now it bothered her in a whole different way, making her wish once again that she’d never agreed to their marriage deception.
A curly lock of hair fell across his forehead, drawing her attention. She clenched her hands together to keep from reaching across the table and bru
shing it back.
He grabbed another bite of his own dinner and chewed vigorously while watching Michael.
“Franklin, why don’t you let me feed Michael, so you and Lorinda can visit while you eat?” Mrs. Oleson reached for the small spoon.
Lorinda didn’t mind the housekeeper’s interruption. Now maybe she could keep her husband’s attention and learn more about what was happening on the ranch. Of course, she didn’t want to raise the subject on everyone’s mind. When would their mountain valley be safe from cattle thieves, murderers, and arsonists?
Franklin did turn toward her and smile, his dark eyes sparkling like the water in one of the springs scattered across the ranch. “I’ve contacted the buyer from the Swift Packing Plant in Chicago, and he’ll arrive in Frisco on Monday. That’s the same day the extra cattle cars will get here. So we’ll spend tomorrow making sure all three hundred fifty head of cattle we’re shipping are healthy.”
Lorinda loved hearing about the ranch and what it took to keep it running. She hoped someday she would be able to work right along beside him as other wives in the valley did with their husbands.
Mrs. Oleson glanced toward him while the baby ate the last bite of potatoes. “When will the cattle drive start?”
Franklin laid his fork on the edge of his plate. “I don’t want to push them too hard. Instead of heading toward the Breckenridge side of the mountains, we’re going to herd them toward Ten-Mile Creek. We’ll move them slow, letting them feed along the way. We’ll bed down beside the creek, so they’ll have plenty of water. When we get to the railcars, they won’t have lost any weight.”
Lorinda realized her husband really hadn’t answered the housekeeper’s question. “How long does it take to get there?”
“We’ll take over four days.” He picked up his fork and started eating again.
“Okay, today’s Tuesday.” She counted on her fingers in her lap. “Tomorrow, you get them ready...so you’ll leave on Thursday?”
“Very early Thursday morning.”
She had gotten used to seeing him every day. And she didn’t go to sleep until he was settled in his bed. She wasn’t looking forward to him being gone that long. But what if he had to travel to Chicago with the cattle? It could be so much longer.
“What happens when you get to Frisco?” Her tone was flirting with whining, and she didn’t want to do that.
Since Michael had finished all his potatoes, he started fussing. Mrs. Oleson picked him up. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just go change his diaper and clean him up.”
Lorinda glanced at her. “Thank you.”
Franklin enjoyed more of his supper during this interlude.
“The cowboys who help drive them will load the herd in the cattle cars, while I conduct my business with the buyer. Since I’ve sold to them for several years, I won’t have to accompany the cattle to Chicago. A few of the cowhands will go to keep them fed and watered. The Swift buyer and I will conclude our business before the train leaves Frisco.”
He reached across the table and clasped her hand, the warmth enveloping her and shooting a tingle up her arm. “I’m sorry I’ll miss going to church with you, but I’ll get home as soon as I can, either very late Monday or early Tuesday.”
Relief rushed through Lorinda while a sigh slipped from between her lips. Franklin gave her hand a slight squeeze before he went back to eating. At least, he wouldn’t be gone as long as she had feared.
Chapter 23
The baby awoke Lorinda before dawn. The bed in the dressing room where Franklin slept was empty, the covers haphazardly pulled up over the pillow. She knew he wanted an early start this morning, but not this early. Maybe he’d be home at the regular time tonight.
She carried her cleaned-up baby into the kitchen where Mrs. Oleson sat drinking a cup of coffee. The fragrance of bacon and biscuits permeated the room, adding to her hunger. Her stomach made a very unladylike growl. She hoped Mrs. Oleson wouldn’t notice.
Before her breakfast, Lorinda sat down to nurse her son. “You’re up early.”
“I always get up this early to fix Franklin’s breakfast when they’re preparing for a cattle drive.” She leaned forward and let Michael grasp her finger.
He let go of his mother and sat up straighter. He glanced around the room before his gaze returned to Lorinda’s face. He looked puzzled.
Lorinda knew who he was looking for. She was disappointed she wouldn’t see Franklin this morning, too.
“You are such a sweet boy,” Mrs. Oleson crooned. She eased her finger from his fist and went to the stove. “I’ll scramble some eggs really soft. Maybe our little guy would like some.”
Lorinda coaxed her son back to his nursing. He was getting to be a real handful, the way he twisted and turned and kicked. Just a little bundle of energy. By the time Mrs. Oleson set a plate with the eggs, crisp bacon, and two buttered biscuits in front of Lorinda, he was finished.
She slipped him into his high chair and held him while their housekeeper tied the tea towel around him.
“I took out some of the eggs to cool for him.” Mrs. Oleson brought a saucer to set on the table beside her chair. “I’ll feed him while you enjoy your breakfast.” She gave him a small bite. He wallowed it around in his mouth, and a bit of slobber leaked out the front. Mrs. Oleson wiped it away.
Lorinda’s thoughts returned to Franklin. “Have you ever been on a cattle drive?”
“No, but my dearly departed husband was the bunkhouse cook when he was with us. He often manned the chuck wagon.” A faraway smile played across her lips while she stared into the distance.
Michael pounded his fist on the tray table.
Mrs. Oleson fed him some more.
Lorinda poured honey on her biscuit and took a bite, the sweetness reminding her of Franklin’s kiss at the wedding. Longing to feel another of those caresses tugged at her senses. She shook her head to get the thought from her mind.
“Have they ever had accidents on any of the drives?” Awaiting the answer, she held her breath.
Mrs. Oleson glanced at her before giving Michael another bit of egg. “A cattle drive can be dangerous. There are always scrapes and bruises, even blisters, but I can’t remember anything major.”
“That’s good.” Lorinda turned her attention back to her food.
Michael finished every bit of the egg, then started laughing while Mrs. Oleson cleaned his hands and face. She made a game of it, sneaking the cloth in while he was giggling.
“Since the railroads came to Frisco, the men don’t have to drive the cattle very far.” Mrs. Oleson spread a baby quilt on the floor on the side of the kitchen away from the stove.
She placed Michael on the blanket and put a few wooden blocks around him. He started reaching for one. As his grasping fingers stretched toward it, he flopped over, but the other arm was caught under his body.
“Look at that. He almost turned all the way over.” Mrs. Oleson clapped her hands and laughed. “It won’t be long until he can scoot across the floor. Before we know it, he’ll be crawling.”
Oh, my goodness. Lorinda didn’t realize babies did things like that so early. For a moment, she felt overwhelmed with being a mother. What would she have done if nothing had happened to Mike? She didn’t know what to do with a baby. Would her son have been neglected because of her inexperience? At least, Mrs. Oleson was helping her learn to be a mother the same way she taught her to cook and knit and sew. Thank you, God, for putting me here in this family.
After Lorinda cleaned up the dishes, she took Michael and put him down for a nap. As she went through all the housecleaning she planned for the day, her mind was in a whirl.
Both she and her son anticipated the time Franklin would come to the house. When he arrived, his presence lit up every room. Michael wouldn’t go to sleep at night until after his daddy played with him. She never fell asleep until he was in the dressing room and she could hear his breathing relax into the slower rhythm of sleep.
What would the
y do the four nights he’d be gone?
Fear grabbed her heart and squeezed it so tight she caught her breath. What if he doesn’t come home? Even though nothing had happened the last few years, that didn’t guarantee it wouldn’t this year.
Mike hadn’t thought anything would happen to him...or to her while he was gone. And look what happened. He was killed. Franklin and his men buried him on her property.
The thought of her new husband being carried to the ranch slung across the back of a horse made her stomach roil enough to cause her breakfast to try to come up. She swallowed and tears flooded her eyes. Please God, don’t let anything happen to Franklin, too.
Yes, she wanted more from their marriage, but if it was the only way she could have him near, then this sham marriage would have to be enough. She couldn’t face losing him altogether.
And neither could her son.
The night before other cattle drives, Franklin had slept under the stars near the herd with the other cowboys. As he rode toward the homestead, the bright moonlight cast a pearly sheen over everything. All he could think about was seeing his son one last time before he left...and his wife, no matter how hard he had to fight himself to keep from sweeping her up in his arms.
Hope I’m not too late to see them both. As he approached the house, light poured from the kitchen windows. At least, someone was up. Was it Mrs. Oleson...or Lorinda? He went through the mudroom and peeked in the kitchen door. “Is Lorinda still up?”
His housekeeper looked up from where she sat at the table. “Yes. I know you said you’d try to get home tonight, but I really didn’t think you would.”
“I’ve still got to clean up. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”
A Heart's Gift Page 18
