“I’m going to be a mother,” she whispered, incredulously. Her stomach flip-flopped and her palms started to sweat. And then she frowned. She supposed he’d called her ‘Three’ because of the condom failure. “Do you intend to call me Three for the duration of my visits to this office?”
“Perhaps I will at that, Three.” Doctor Crosby chuckled. “Patient pet names help me to remember their history. That just slipped out. Usually I don’t divulge the name to the patient.”
“I’m so happy I don’t care what nickname you call me by.” Amanda beamed.
“We’ll start you on prenatal vitamins and provide a handout instructing you on the dos and don’ts to be mindful of: proper nutrition, no smoking, no drinking alcohol. Make another appointment for a month from now.” The physician stood up and smiled. “I’ll leave the decision whether or not to inform the father to your discretion.”
“I realize the father is entitled to know, and I’ll probably respect his rights. But I’m only residing in Bandit Creek for a few months. I’ll be raising the child alone when I return to Helena.” Amanda shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you so much for delivering such wonderful news, and for your discretion. I appreciate your kindness on both counts.”
“Good luck, Miss Bailey.” Doctor Crosby opened the door and guided her out ahead of him. “I’ll see you again in a month.”
Amanda paid the medical bill and then floated to her car parked in the clinic parking lot. She crawled inside, closed the door, and then burst into tears. Pregnant. She still couldn’t believe it was true. Her first inclination was to call her mother, call her friends in Helena, and take out an announcement in the Bandit Creek Gazette. She was pregnant!
And then she realized she couldn’t tell a soul. Well, maybe Jeremy if she crossed paths with him again. Highly unlikely though, because she hadn’t seen him since he slipped out of her hotel room. Her mother had resigned herself to the fact that her youngest daughter couldn’t provide her with another grandchild. To raise false hopes would be too cruel. Amanda couldn’t share her news and then risk something happening a few weeks or months down the road. And how would she explain to her mother the circumstances that created this miracle?
“A miracle,” whispered Amanda. That was the only appropriate term. This baby’s very existence was nothing short of a miracle. And it happened in Bandit Creek of all places. A Bandit Creek miracle. Who would have guessed?
She’d made no secret of her dislike for small towns, and the citizens of Bandit Creek simply tolerated her presence due to Catherine singing her praises for arriving in the nick of time. Even her co-workers shunned her for the most part.
Now, Amanda had a wonderful, miraculous secret.
She returned to her office, but she couldn’t risk sharing her news with anyone. And that only made the secret more special. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, and she suspected her co-workers noticed her sudden mood change. No one said anything, of course, but the curious glances she received from co-workers and banking customers spoke volumes. Let them speculate, thought Amanda. She couldn’t care less.
Amanda was sitting on top of the world. And she’d just won the pregnancy lottery!
CHAPTER SIX
Amanda sensed someone had entered her office, and she glanced up from the report she was preparing for the board of directors’ meeting next week. Miss Betty Pringle stood inside the door, wearing a navy suit, white blouse and navy flats. Amanda swore the head loans officer wore the same suit and shoes every day, almost like a corporate uniform, and only added a different blouse each morning. Her steel gray hair and facial wrinkles suggested the woman was approaching retirement age. Amanda would peg Betty at sixty-three or sixty-four. But the sparkling blue eyes and attractive features led Amanda to wonder why the woman had never married.
“Good morning, Betty. Was there something you needed?” Amanda stifled a yawn. Only two days had passed since she’d learned she was pregnant and already fatigue plagued her on a daily basis.
Miss Pringle shoved a file under her nose and smiled sweetly. “Just your signature as bank manager to approve this loan, and then I’ll get out of your hair. Only a small sum not requiring the board of directors’ approval.”
“Thanks, Betty.” Amanda set the file on the corner of her desk. “I’ll review it in a minute. Tell your customer to return to the bank after lunch and we’ll disburse the funds at that time.”
“Mrs. Branigan trusts my judgment. Catherine just signs the approvals without all this fuss.” Miss Pringle’s pursed lips and clasped hands indicated her annoyance at having her abilities questioned.
“Catherine is familiar with everyone in town. I’m not. But I’m certain everything is in order. After a quick review I’ll approve the paperwork and sign the documents.” Amanda smiled.
“All right.” Miss Pringle stomped out of her office.
Amanda peeked through her office window, observed Miss Pringle talking with a young man while pointing in her direction. The client smiled and headed out the door. “He’s taking the news better than Betty did,” she muttered aloud.
By three o’clock Amanda had managed to completely clear her desk. She almost pulled out her digital camera and snapped a picture. It might never happen again during her entire time in Bandit Creek.
She wandered into the staff room, poured herself a cup of coffee and chatted with four female staff members during their coffee break. Knitting Club and Book Club were discussed at length, and Amanda was invited to join both. She’d spent the past year with her nose in a book, and she couldn’t face the thought of joining a book club. And she couldn’t knit. She graciously declined on both counts blaming the short term nature of her stay in Bandit Creek.
When she returned to her office, this morning’s encounter with Miss Pringle niggled at her. If Catherine signed paperwork for her staff without reviewing it first, there were only two logical explanations: harried by time constraints or exceptional trust in her employees. Amanda considered neither an acceptable excuse. There were simply too many opportunities for fraud.
Amanda had studied bank fraud and theft too thoroughly to dismiss anyone as a potential thief. Or had she mistakenly applied her big city beliefs to a small town situation? “Really, Amanda, how many career criminals reside in Bandit Creek? And how many of them work at the Ellis Bank?”
Determined to put her mind at ease, Amanda pulled an armful of loan files at random and returned to her office. She called several customers on the pretence of extending a thank you for using the Ellis Bank for their loan requirements and to gauge customer satisfaction. After more than a dozen calls, every customer had praised the bank’s staff and the service they provided.
“I believe you’ve over-reacted,” she scolded herself, grabbed her purse out of her desk’s bottom drawer and headed home.
****
When Friday night rolled around, Amanda felt totally exhausted. Her co-workers noticed how tired she looked, but she blamed it on the heavy workload at the bank. Of course, her pregnancy contributed to her fatigue. She’d barely managed to keep her eyes open the last few afternoons at work, but the client customer-satisfaction calls kept her alert. And she enjoyed conversing with the locals.
Amanda walked down Spruce Street on her way to Ma’s Kitchen to meet one of the girls from the bank for dinner. Still a half block from the Powder Horn Saloon, she glanced up and almost fainted. Jeremy stepped out of a half-ton truck and settled his black Stetson on his head. She watched him cross the street in his now familiar loose-limbed gait, and her heart skipped a beat. He tipped his hat to someone leaning against the building and then entered the establishment.
Jeremy. Amanda’s hand rested on her middle. She felt obligated to tell him. He was the father, and he had the right to know.
As she approached the local watering hole, she noticed an old Indian shaman slumped against the wall just outside the door. She’d overheard the locals relating stories about the infamous Jack, and she smiled
in recognition. Her heart almost stopped when he leaned toward her as she approached and whispered, “It’s a miracle.”
Amanda’s breath caught. Again, her hand found its way to her middle. Jack nodded his head, knowingly. But in an instant a frown appeared on his weathered face. “Trouble’s coming, trouble’s coming, trouble’s coming,” he muttered the chant. And then he raised a small brown paper bag to his lips and swilled the contents of the bottle it contained.
Amanda considered the possibility that the old fellow could actually peer into the future. Could he foresee complications with the pregnancy? Would she lose the baby? “Stop it.” she whispered to herself. Jack was a drunken old man. The only future that interested him was the next bottle of JD.
Amanda crept into the Powder Horn Saloon and paused inside the doorway to allow her eyes to adjust to the dark interior. None of the dozen or more customers even glanced in her direction. A Reba McEntire tune blasted throughout the room, and two young female servers dressed in short black skirts and white t-shirts balanced beer bottles and glasses on their trays while chatting with a table of seniors. The bartender nodded at Amanda when she took a tentative step further inside, and she smiled at him before looking around.
Jeremy sat with three other cowboys seated at a table in the far corner. As she approached, she overheard him complaining about having been left in charge of the ranch while his brother, sister and father attended several antiques auctions to furnish new guest rooms at the Lazy B Guest Ranch. Amanda didn’t give a whit about any guest ranch or any auctions. She required Jeremy’s undivided attention, and she wouldn’t be put off.
“Jeremy, I need to talk with you for a moment, please.” Amanda stood beside the low-backed wooden chair he occupied. The cowboys’ animated conversation ceased.
Jeremy glanced up at her, and a broad smile creased his face. “Well, hello, darlin’.” He turned toward her, hooked his arm over the chair back.
“We need to talk. Let’s step outside for some privacy, please.” Amanda stuffed her hands into her pockets, feeling certain every eye in the room was watching them.
Jeremy grabbed his beer, downed the rest of it, and plunked the bottle back onto the table. He tossed a few dollars down beside the empty and stood. “Nice seeing you again, guys.” He glanced toward the bartender and called, “See you later, Cotton.”
The bartender waved at Jeremy, and Amanda turned and strode toward the exit.
“Wait up, darlin’.” Jeremy followed Amanda outside and across the street. He leaned against his pickup truck and stuck his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “What is so darn important?”
The shaman’s warning trouble’s coming flashed through Amanda’s mind. She had to tell Jeremy. She couldn’t delay the inevitable. Otherwise, any amount of stressful indecision might threaten her baby’s life. And if the old fellow’s warning held merit, she couldn’t risk anything that might increase the chances of something going wrong with what could be her only chance at motherhood.
“I’m pregnant.” She hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that, but she couldn’t think of any way to soften the news. She held her breath, anticipating what his reaction would be. Anger? Shock? Annoyance? Would he blame her? She couldn’t imagine him being happy.
“Damn.” Jeremy met her eyes.
“I’m as shocked by this news as you are.”
“I doubt that!” Jeremy’s expression darkened. “Did you plan this? Did you see an opportunity to land yourself a wealthy husband? One of the condoms broke as I recall. Did you have a hand in that?”
“One of the condoms broke? And you didn’t bother to mention that?” Amanda glared at Jeremy, feeling totally livid. How could she ever have thought him a gentleman? “With the prevalence of sexually transmitted diseases these days…”
“You’re right. I should have said something.” Jeremy scrubbed his face with his hand and then glared at her. “So you hit the jackpot! And it just happened to be with me.”
“Take your ‘land a wealthy husband’ theory and stuff it. I’m at the top of my career, and I’m not interested in a husband, with money or otherwise. And I certainly didn’t plan this. I underwent chemo and radiation treatments for cancer a year ago, and the doctors warned me I’d probably never conceive a baby. The bottom line is it’s nothing short of a miracle that I’m pregnant!” Amanda stood hands on hips.
“I’m sorry about the cancer. My buddy’s wife endured a year of treatments, almost lost her life, lost all her hair.” Jeremy’s expression softened.
Amanda pointed to her head. “Been there, done that. Would you believe I used to be a blonde?”
“But you’re perfectly healthy now?”
“The doctors believe so, and they don’t suspect a recurrence. But they warned me the chances of conceiving were very slim. But what do doctors know?”
“Obviously, the bastards haven’t a clue.” Jeremy heaved a sigh. “So where do we go from here?”
“I told you as a courtesy. You’re entitled to know, and I’ve told you. But I can handle everything from here.” Amanda straightened her back.
Jeremy’s expression hardened. “So that’s it? I don’t have a say?”
“We hardly know each other.” Amanda would never deny him access to his child, but the thought of living in a small town like Bandit Creek gave her the willies. But would constant shuffling between Helena and Bandit Creek be fair to the child? Should she suggest he participate in the baby’s upbringing? “This entire situation seems impossible, and I’ll be returning to the city soon.”
Jeremy muttered a string of curses that would make an L.A. gang leader blush, leapt into his pickup, slammed the door, and drove away, gravel spitting out from the tires.
Amanda’s hand touched her middle. “Well, kiddo, that’s probably the last we’ll see of your father.”
And then she remembered the old shaman’s warning. Trouble’s coming. Now that she’d gotten used to the idea, she wanted this baby more than she’d ever wanted anything before, even her promotion. “Please, God, not my baby,” she whispered heavenward. “Anything but my baby.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
On the first day of spring, Amanda cleared her desk by three fifteen and decided to place a few more customer appreciation calls. She’d gained invaluable insight into the important role the bank played in the community, and she enjoyed talking with the locals. She didn’t approve of Catherine’s practice of signing documents without reading them first, but she was delighted to hear that the clients held Catherine and her staff in such high esteem.
She spent the next hour talking with customers, discussing everything from the stock market to the weekend weather forecast. While chatting with the interesting people who utilized the services of her bank branch—and she’d started to consider it her branch, at least for the interim—she’d developed an unexpected warm and fussy feeling all over. Why hadn’t she ever called any of her customers in Helena just to chat?
And then she attempted to contact Eunice Spencer.
Mrs. Spencer borrowed two thousand dollars six weeks ago. The first small payment was applied in full on the due date, made in cash. Most customers requested payments be applied directly from a designated checking account within the branch. The cash payment seemed out of the ordinary. An automated announcement informed Amanda that the number wasn’t in service. That seemed stranger still. Amanda contacted Montana Telecommunications and discovered the number on the loan application had never existed. Amanda’s radar went on full alert. If the number didn’t exist, did Eunice Spencer even exist?
After work, Amanda telephoned Catherine at the ranch and inquired about the twins. During the conversation, she casually asked how she’d managed to handle the workload for the last weeks of her pregnancy. Catherine admitted she’d left the bank early on several days and missed a few mornings as well. As a result, whenever a mound of paper piled up on her desk, she’d been forced to shift some of the responsibilities onto other staff members.
After sneaking a few well-placed inquiries into their conversation, Amanda confirmed that Betty and Walter both approved small loans in Catherine’s absence and then she signed the paperwork as a formality on her return, usually without first checking the validity. She trusted her staff.
Amanda laughed off her curiosity by claiming as a specialist in bank fraud she’d lost the ability to trust people in the same way small town bankers did. Catherine seemed to accept her explanation.
But that night, Amanda returned to the bank at seven o’clock and locked herself in her office with every small loan file processed in the past twelve weeks. She investigated every customer and discovered three more loans for two thousand dollars and two loans for one thousand each with non-existent telephone numbers written on the applications. She checked the customer addresses provided and discovered phony street numbers.
By nine o’clock, Amanda had reviewed every single loan document and realized the irrefutable truth. A total of ten thousand dollars had been loaned to people who didn’t exist. Someone at the Bandit Creek branch of the Ellis Bank had helped themselves to the funds.
She tossed and turned half the night. Accusing one of the bank employees of being a thief wasn’t the best way of making inroads with the locals. Since arriving in town, she’d discovered that many community members barely tolerated disgruntled big-city girls. What should she do? How should she handle this situation?
There was only one person she trusted to lend her assistance.
****
Amanda locked herself in her office at ten o’clock the next morning and placed a call to her old boss in Helena. She would trust Susan Sanders with her life. They’d started working at the Ellis Bank around the same time, and they’d worked their way up the corporate ladder together. During Amanda’s yearlong battle with cancer, Susan had climbed a rung or two higher, but Amanda didn’t begrudge Susan her success.
A Bandit Creek Miracle Page 5
