He’d come to love her so much that he wanted to clasp her even closer to him and not let her go. Both of them reveling in their love. Since his father had taught him to respect women, he’d never experienced the intimacy that should be saved until after the wedding. He knew the mechanics of it, but could only imagine the emotional depth of the actual event.
He’d been so unfair to Lorinda. Asking her to accept a marriage in name only had been a selfish mistake. One he’d regret to his dying day.
She’d been all right with it at first, but was that still her feeling? Especially now that she would have to help him raise not only her son, but Miriam’s as well. How could he find out without pushing her...maybe even away from him. Franklin shook his head. He didn’t want that to happen.
When he’d gotten home from Breckenridge yesterday, Lorinda had been nursing the new baby boy. She looked happy and satisfied. But was she really? Maybe she’d had time to think about the consequences of what had transpired. Had she considered what their future would be now? He didn’t have the right words to ask her. Why could he talk to everyone else, but not to his wife about what mattered?
As he rode toward the house, he gave a small salute to the men standing guard, and each one gave an answering wave. Everything must’ve been quiet while he was away. He was thankful to have men he could trust working for him.
But he’d trusted Marvin for a long time. Hopefully, he’d matured enough to really recognize a man of integrity when he saw one. When he arrived at the barn, he took care of his horse, then headed toward the house.
After taking off his coat, he stuffed his gloves in the pockets and hung it up along with his Stetson. Franklin found Lorinda once again in the parlor near the fireplace. Even after wearing the lined leather gloves, his fingers felt like icicles. He leaned against the mantel, close enough to the fire to warm him up, but not in a place where he’d keep the warmth from reaching his wife and children. Children? That had a nice ring to it.
“You’re back sooner than I thought you’d be.” Her blue eyes looked as warm and welcoming as a summer sky.
He glanced toward the basket beside her where the new baby slept. Michael sat on the rug nearby playing with the wooden blocks Franklin had carved for him. He didn’t seem to be affected by the new guy in the house. Almost as if Franklin had called his name, Michael’s gaze shot toward him.
“Da, da, da, da.”
Drool dripped from his chin, and Lorinda took her hanky and swiped it away. He picked up a block in each hand and started banging them together. Franklin figured all the noise would disturb the new baby, but it didn’t.
“I didn’t linger, because I wanted to get home to my family.” His smile encompassed all of them.
“Now that everything with Miriam has been taken care of, there’s something we must discuss.” Lorinda sounded so earnest. “She didn’t have time to tell us what she wanted to name her son.”
“Our son.” Franklin was thankful she didn’t have anything more serious to discuss.
“Yes...that’s what I meant.” She heaved a sigh. “I don’t know how to handle something like this.”
“We didn’t get a lot of time to talk yesterday, since it was so busy.” He dropped into the wingback chair opposite the one where his wife sat. “I talked to the lawyer. The paper Miriam wrote and signed will stand up in court, so we can legally adopt him when we want to. Until then, he’s ours anyway.”
“So we need to decide what to name our son.” Lorinda reached down and lifted him into her arms without disturbing his slumber, cuddling him close to her heart. “Do you have any ideas?”
“We can’t name him after his real father. I don’t think she wants him to even know who that man is.” A slight throbbing took up residence in his head, right behind his eyes.
“Since he’s to be your son, we could name him Franklin. Michael is named for his birth father.” She began to rock back and forth in the chair as she held the baby closer.
The throbbing accelerated a little. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We need a different name for him.”
“All right.” She seemed flustered. “Can you think of another name you would want to use?”
“How about your father?”
The words had barely left his mouth when a look of horror covered her face. “No!”
He’d never heard such a strong exclamation from her. What had she endured at the hands of that man to bring such a response? Anger welled up in him against the man he’d never met. He thought he remembered her saying she didn’t have any more relatives when Mike was killed. Must mean her father was dead as well. What had the man done to her? Was he the reason she had a hard time trusting men?
Franklin wished Lorinda felt safe enough to share her pain with him. She knew all about his situation with Marvin and Miriam. Please Lord, let her tell me soon.
Lorinda laid the baby back in the basket and tucked the blankets close around him as he slept. “How about your father’s name?”
When she looked back up at him, her face wore a serene mask, but he could tell she was fighting to keep it that way. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. His heart ached for her. Franklin wanted to make things better for her, but how could he when she wouldn’t share with him about what had happened? Frustration gripped him.
“What was your father’s name, Franklin?”
He drew his thoughts back to their conversation. “Andrew...Andrew Vine.”
A smile lit her face, even reaching her eyes. “Andrew is a good, strong name. He’ll need a name like that.”
He wondered what she meant, but he didn’t ask. Of course, every man needed a strong name, especially out here in the mountains.
“Since Mrs. Oleson planned to stay in Breckenridge to help with the funeral meal at the schoolhouse, I put on a pot of elk stew. It should be ready soon.” Lorinda headed toward the kitchen.
Franklin was surprised that all the things on his mind had kept him from noticing the pleasing aroma of the stew. But then, the house usually smelled good when he came in near a mealtime.
Rusty had gone hunting last week and brought the large bull elk down. After they slaughtered it, the meat had hung in the cold smokehouse. Franklin was particularly fond of elk meat, so his mouth watered. He hadn’t felt like eating when he was in town, but the stew Lorinda made emanated a delicious aroma throughout the house. As Franklin watched the two baby boys, hunger pangs assailed him. He could hardly wait for the meal to be ready. Soon after Lorinda left, the fragrance of cooking biscuits joined the other delicious smells.
Franklin picked up Michael and hugged him tight before also grabbing the handle of the basket that held Andrew. He took both boys to the kitchen, setting the basket not too far from the black cook stove and putting Michael in his highchair.
“Can I do anything to help?”
Lorinda had never seen Franklin help with anything in the kitchen besides taking care of the fire in the stove. “Everything’s ready. I’ll just set the table, then serve the food.”
“Okay. I’ll watch the boys.” His words sounded so normal, even though having more than one son was new to them.
He pulled up a chair beside the highchair and whispered secrets into Michael’s ears. The baby’s attention was focused completely on his daddy.
She gathered the silverware and napkins and began to place them on the table. When she glanced up, her husband’s attention wasn’t focused on Michael, even though he continued to play with him. His gaze followed her every move. A soft smile spread across his face. What was that man thinking? Did a wife ever know her husband’s thoughts? She never had mastered that, even when she was married to Mike. He was always a mystery.
Franklin had never really tried to control her the way her father and Mike had, but she still couldn’t figure him out. Would her life always be filled with unknowns? Or someday, would she be able to understand her husband?
Lorinda returned to the stove and
slid the pot of stew off onto hot mats on the cabinet by the dry sink. She felt his eyes boring into her back. Was he deliberately trying to make her feel uncomfortable? She shook the thought from her mind when she turned around to carry the bowls of stew to the table. After removing the biscuits from the oven, she placed them in a tea towel-lined bread basket and pulled the edges up over the biscuits to keep them warm. She removed the crock of butter from the ice cold closet and brought both things to the table, all the time feeling awkward.
“Everything smells delicious, Lorinda.”
The way he said her name made her feel cared for. Too bad he didn’t.
Chapter 33
November dawned cold and fair. Franklin had been out in the barn doing chores before breakfast. As he returned to the house, he studied the snow-capped mountains surrounding his ranch. Not much of the snow had made it all the way to the valley. As cold as the air was now, the next snowstorm could bury them in the white stuff.
Inside the warm, cozy ranch house, he shed his winter outerwear and left them near the front door. Laughter in the kitchen drew him the way the Pied Piper had drawn the children out of the German city of Hamelin. When he’d heard the tale as a boy, he’d often wondered how just a sound could draw a person so strongly. Now he knew. The women discussing the coming day, Michael jabbering and banging his hands on the tray of the highchair, and the softer sounds coming from little Andrew drew him like bees to honey.
He stood in the doorway for a moment before anyone saw him. The room, a kaleidoscope of color and action. Michael was the first to notice him.
“Da, da, da.” A smile that melted Franklin’s heart lit Michael’s face as he pounded the tray between each syllable.
Lorinda turned and their eyes met. Did he detect delight in hers?
“How is everyone this morning?” He hunkered beside the basket near the stove and the tiny boy opened his eyes...wider than ever before.
Franklin picked him up and laid the baby close to his heart before taking a seat in his usual chair at the table. He should be able to handle eating while holding Andrew. The baby didn’t move around much yet, and all Franklin needed was one hand to partake of his meal.
“Wonderful.” Lorinda got up to help Mrs. Oleson put the food on the table.
His heart felt full with their expanded family. The week-old baby had settled in just fine, and his wife had a special glow about her. She was meant to be a mother to more than one child. He hoped the day would come when he could give her his own child to love and care for.
Mrs. Oleson set a cup of hot coffee in front of him. “Is it getting even colder outside?”
“Yup. It’s way past nippy out there.” He took a sip of the steaming brew, then cradled the cup with his hand until his fingers became toasty.
Lorinda brought a platter of scrambled eggs and ham in one hand and a basket of piping hot biscuits in the other. She set them on the table and sat beside him. After putting a large spoonful of eggs on a saucer to cool for Michael, she served Franklin a heaping helping of them, along with a thick slice of ham.
“You want me to butter some biscuits for you?” Her smile warmed him clean through.
“That would be right nice.” He watched as she deftly split two biscuits open and slathered them with the fresh-churned spread. His mouth watered watching her drizzle honey on top.
Evidently, Andrew had fallen asleep. By the time they finished eating, he started squirming.
“Is this little guy hungry?”
A becoming blush poured into Lorinda’s cheeks. She hadn’t been shy about nursing Michael, even though she went into the other room to do it. When Andrew needed her, she was a bit more flustered. In a cute way.
“He probably needs changing, too.” Lorinda eased the baby into her arms and hurried toward the bedroom that once again belonged to Michael plus the new baby.
After she closed the door, Franklin followed into the hallway. He could hear her sweet voice talking to Andrew as if the tiny infant could understand every word she said.
Franklin had given her plenty of privacy when Michael was this young. That’s why he hadn’t heard her talk to him at this age.
The sound of hoofbeats caught his attention. He went into his office that was opposite the parlor and watched a stranger approach the house. When the man got close enough, Franklin recognized him as the person who’d caught his attention when he exited the train while Franklin was finishing his business with Harley Smith, the cattle buyer. He’d know that horse anywhere. The gunmetal gray turned almost silver in the bright winter sunlight. Wonder what he wants.
Franklin waited until the man knocked on the door before he went into the front hallway to answer it. At first, he planned to step out on the porch to talk to him, but the wind had stiffened. So he invited the man into the entranceway, but no farther until he knew more about him.
“Dave Jefferson.” The man held out his hand, the other holding saddlebags slung across his other shoulder.
He shook it, but still didn’t move deeper into the house. “I saw you when you came in on the train.”
Dave’s eyes widened. “You’re the rancher who had a herd you were sending back East.”
“That’s me. I’m not surprised you didn’t recognize me. We were a little rough and dirty by the time we got there.”
The men shared a laugh that broke the ice.
“What can I do for you?” Franklin slid his hands into the back pockets of his trousers and relaxed.
The other man cleared his throat. “I understand you’re married to Mike Sullivan’s widow.”
Franklin stiffened. What did he want with Lorinda? “Yes.” He didn’t offer any more information.
“Could we sit down somewhere while I tell you my story?”
Did Franklin want to invite the stranger into the parlor? Not really, but something told him to do it anyway.
“Take off your coat and hang it up.” He gestured toward an empty hook on the hall tree. “You can warm yourself by the fireplace.”
After leading the way into the formal room, Franklin sank into one of the wingback chairs, the one farthest from the hearth.
Dave, still holding the saddlebags, took the one opposite and leaned even closer to the flames. “It’s really cold out there.”
“Yup, that time of year.” Franklin propped one foot on the opposite knee and leaned back. “So what’s this you mentioned needing to tell me.”
Dave stared into the flames as if mesmerized. “It’s not really a pretty tale, but it has a happy ending.”
Franklin wondered what this man’s story had to do with his family. “Go on.”
“I used to be a scoundrel. Oh, I didn’t murder anyone or commit a robbery or anything like that. But I did play poker, and I always won, because I was a slick cheater. No one ever caught me.” A grimace accompanied that last sentence. “Real ornery.”
Franklin wanted to get to the bottom line, but evidently Dave needed to confess. Brian had told him confession was good for the soul. He just hoped it wouldn’t take too long.
“How does this affect me or my family?”
“I met Mike Sullivan before he made it to Denver to have his gold assayed.” Dave wouldn’t look at him.
Franklin dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward with his hands clasped between his knees. “And you swindled him out of his gold?”
Finally, the man’s eyes met Franklin’s. “Yes, sir, I did. Won every bulging poke from him. Was really proud of that, too. I’d never made so much in a single game.”
Where was this man going with the story? Franklin stared straight into his eyes and didn’t blink. He could out-stare him, if he needed to.
Evidently the saddlebags were filled with something fairly heavy, because Dave dropped them beside his feet and pulled them as close as possible.
“I’d made a good bit of money that night from the other men, so I took the gold to Denver and, after having it assayed, turned it into cash, which I deposited
into a new account at Capital Bank of Denver. While I was in town, I met a rancher from western Oklahoma. He was looking for cowboys. I made a split-second decision to go with him and try out ranching. Too many people in Colorado were unhappy with me. I got out while the getting was good. Best decision I ever made.”
This was some tale. “How so?”
“I really enjoyed ranching. The hard work was good for me, and I felt better about myself because I was making my way honestly. Both the rancher and his foreman really took to me. We became good friends. That old rancher gave me the best gift I’d ever received. He told me about Jesus, and I chose to give my life to Him. The rancher and his foreman and I had Bible study together every evening. Those two men helped me begin to grow toward the man I want to be for the rest of my life.”
Franklin relaxed again. “That’s good news. I’m a Christian myself.”
“Then you will understand why I want to see your wife.” Dave took a deep breath and stood up. “I’m on a pilgrimage to make restitution to every person I can find that I had wronged.” He picked up the saddlebags. “All the money I got for the gold I won from Mike Sullivan is in these. $254,000.”
Franklin quickly arose. “In cash?”
“Every bit of it.” Dave smiled. “I haven’t let these saddlebags out of my sight since I withdrew the funds from the bank and headed this way.”
A whistle burst forth from Franklin. “That’s quite a story.”
“It’s all true.”
“Why didn’t you just come out here the day you arrived?” He really wanted to know where he’d been all this time.
“I was looking for Mike Sullivan. Since I met him at a poker table in a saloon, figured that’s where I’d find him. I stayed in the background, watching and listening. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, since I was carrying so much cash.” He glanced down at the saddlebags. “After visiting a different saloon each night, I made discreet inquiries and found out about him being murdered and you later marrying his widow.”
A Heart's Gift Page 25
