His Dry Creek Inheritance

by Janet Tronstad

  Just then Mrs. Hargrove moved and he saw a young slip of a girl hiding behind the older woman’s dress. The girl looked to be around five years old and she wore a simple gray dress with a wide white collar. Pearl barrettes held her curly red hair behind her ears. She stared up at Mark shyly, turning her head a little as though measuring him.

  Mrs. Hargrove was still talking to Bailey, but the girl stepped out of the folds of the older woman’s skirt and faced Mark.

  “I’m Rosie,” she whispered and pointed at Bailey. “That’s my mama.”

  Mark nodded. So this was the daughter. “You have a nice mama.”

  She smiled and then was silent for a bit. “I don’t have a daddy no more though.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mark muttered, relieved that she didn’t look like she was going to cry or anything. He wished he had a piece of hard candy in his pockets; that’s what he gave new recruits when they had a shock.

  “He died,” Rosie added, not sounding upset at all. “And he got to go to heaven.”

  Mark needed rescuing. He looked around for someone to help, but Bailey and Mrs. Hargrove were locked in some conversation. He heard the phrase Bible study so he didn’t want to interrupt them. He turned to his other side and saw Gabe was talking with someone, too.

  Mark finally looked back down at the girl.

  “Heaven is—ah—nice,” he carefully said. Surely, the idea of heaven was good. He wasn’t opposed to it in any event. “I hear people want to go there.”

  That much was true.

  He looked down and noted a faint frown on the girl’s face. She seemed to be concentrating.

  “You have a cane,” she finally said. He didn’t remember Bailey ever making small talk, but that must be what her daughter was doing.

  “The cane’s nice and shiny,” he agreed, glad they were back on safe ground. He lifted the cane a little and gave it a twirl. “It works good, too.”

  He tapped the cane on the floor for a little extra emphasis.

  A look of satisfaction flashed across the girl’s face and she nodded.

  “You had a hat, too,” she said as she looked around. “Where did it go?”

  “I put my hat on the coatrack in the foyer,” he answered. If he was able, he would have bent down so he was on her level. He thought he’d read somewhere that children liked that. And, even with all the questions, he wanted her to stay. He did lean over a little just to be sociable.

  “I suppose you like cowboy hats,” he said, making a special effort to keep his voice soft. She seemed fragile and he still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t start crying.

  She shrugged. “I thought it might be a top hat.”

  She sounded disappointed.

  Just then Bailey looked down and seemed to notice who her daughter was talking to. Bailey reached out to pull the girl back.

  “We’ll be finished with the line in a minute,” Bailey said to Rosie. “Only a few people left. Then I’ll fix a plate for you and we can sit down and have some lunch. Would you like that?”

  Rosie nodded. “Can the man with the cane eat with us, too?”

  The girl was looking directly at him, Mark noticed, so he took the liberty of nodding his head at her. “I’d love to—”

  “You don’t need to,” Bailey moved closer and whispered. “She’s only interested in your cane.”

  “I don’t see why—” Mark began.

  “It’s the Valentine youth talent contest at the café,” Bailey informed him. “She wants to find someone with a cane and top hat to be her partner in a tap dance number. It’s even better if they can sing.”

  “Like Shirley Temple,” Rosie nodded in confirmation, her eyes gleaming with excitement before turning to her mother. “He doesn’t have a top hat though.”

  Bailey looked up at him and was going to speak.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Mark said, before she could say anything. “I don’t think I could dance—I mean, even if I had a top hat, I—”

  Mark watched the light fade from the girl’s eyes. She had likely never heard of knee reconstruction. He glanced over at Bailey and saw she didn’t look happy either.

  “I could maybe find you a top hat though,” Mark offered impulsively. All he would need to do would be to go online to a party store. “And someone could borrow my cane. Then all you’ll need is a partner.”

  The girl’s shoulders slumped down. She had burrowed into Mrs. Hargrove’s dress and he could barely see her face.

  “No one wants to be my partner,” Rosie whispered finally, the sound so low Mark wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

  “Oh, I’m sure—” Mark began to say but a cutting look from Bailey stopped him.

  “I told you I can be your partner,” Bailey said cheerfully as she reached over with her hand and brushed her daughter’s hair off her forehead. “We’ll tap a duo.”

  “But—” Rosie lifted her eyes to her mother, but Bailey had already turned to greet the last couple in the line.

  Rosie turned to Mark instead and whispered, “Mama can’t dance. She’s got the baby inside her. And the contest is only two weeks away.”

  “Wars have been won in two weeks,” Mark answered with the most encouraging thing he could think to say.

  Rosie looked thoughtful. “Do they tap dance in wars?”

  Mark shook his head. “But they do reveille every morning when they wake up. Not in active war so much, but... That’s where the trumpet blows and the troops salute.”

  “Can you play the trumpet?” Rosie asked him hopefully.

  “No, sorry.” Mark felt particularly useless. “I can salute though.”

  He demonstrated and the girl smiled so he clicked his heels together, too. It didn’t hurt as much as he expected and she looked pleased.

  Finally, Bailey came to his rescue. The line of people was gone now. “We need to go up front. Everyone is waiting for us to get the first plates so everyone can eat.”

  Rosie took a step toward Mark. Then she held up her hand for him. “I’ll show you the way,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice as he took her offered hand.

  “You don’t want to get lost,” Rosie said as they stepped forward. “You’d be hungry.”

  Mark had a sudden need to blink. Not that a tear was forming, he assured himself. It was just the damp of the basement getting to him. He gratefully sat where the girl indicated he should. He’d never had a child worry about him since Bailey had years ago. Strange that he should suddenly miss it.

  * * *

  The smell of a dozen homemade casseroles filled the air as Bailey sat down in a folding chair that Mark had pulled out for her. He gave her his arm to lean on as she seated herself at the table. Then he sat back down next to her in the chair Rosie had assigned him earlier.

  “My daughter is usually very shy with strangers,” Bailey said as she looked at Mark suspiciously. The girl had already flitted away to get them napkins. Rosie said she was worried the ones with the pink flowers on them would be all gone by the time Bailey and Mark could get their plates filled.

  “I think she’s still hoping I’ll help her with the talent show,” Mark responded ruefully. “I would, but I’d move stiffly even if I tried. And I can’t sing.”

  “You could wear the hat,” Bailey said, teasing him a little.

  “That I could do,” he agreed.

  “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’ll be able to move enough to help her.”

  Mark looked at her skeptically, but he didn’t comment further.

  Bailey gathered the choir robe more closely around her. She had found a white butcher’s apron to go over the robe and she looked more normal. She noticed Pastor Matthew go stand near the kitchen door.

  “The pastor will say a blessing for our food,” one of the kitchen ladies announced in a loud voice. The chatter ceased.

&nb
sp; Everyone bowed their heads and the pastor thanked God and the ladies for all the food. He also asked for comfort for Eli’s family and friends.

  When the heads were raised, Bailey and Mark were motioned to come to the head of the line. Bailey noted that it was Mark who gestured for Gabe to join them while she called Rosie over to take her hand.

  Bailey hadn’t realized how hungry she had been until she took a bite of two local dishes. Mrs. Hargrove’s daughter Doris June made her usual halibut bake and Linda Enger, the café owner, made green chicken enchiladas. Bailey followed those dishes with Mrs. Hargrove’s buttermilk biscuits.

  “This is good,” Mark whispered on her right, a note of reverence in his voice. “I haven’t eaten like this since—” he stopped for a minute “—why, I guess since I left Dry Creek years ago. It certainly beats anything in the military.”

  Bailey nodded. There would be no shortage of words of condolence, but the good people of Dry Creek always did practical things to help a family who was mourning. She suspected they would try to send most of the leftovers home with them and she’d have many offers to take Rosie for an afternoon of play. She was glad. Even though she and Rosie had been living there for several years, Eli’s ranch house would seem very cold without him around.

  Dessert was served before Bailey quite realized it and the lawyer, who had driven out from Billings, had arrived, brushing snow off of his wool coat. Bailey was surprised a young woman was with him. She was tall, but hunched her shoulders like she was trying to take up less space in the world. Bailey thought she was probably a teenager, but she might be older.

  “Feel free to get something to eat,” Bailey said as she walked over to greet the lawyer. She turned to the almost-woman. “And your daughter, too.”

  “I’m not his daughter,” the female said, her voice flat. She sent the lawyer a look that made Bailey wonder even more who she was. Maybe the man had picked up a hitchhiker, Bailey thought. As she looked closer, the woman seemed like she’d fallen on hard times. Everything she wore was frayed. She wasn’t dressed much better than Bailey was in her choir robe. Suddenly, Bailey saw why—the woman, and she supposed she had to be old enough to be one, was as pregnant as Bailey was.

  “Nothing fits, does it?” Bailey said sympathetically. “But you should eat. You need your strength.”

  “I didn’t come here to eat,” the stranger said and turned her back on Bailey. When she stood tall like she was, her frame, apart from the bulge of her pregnancy, was alarmingly thin.

  “Oh,” Bailey said as she looked up at the lawyer. He’d taken off his coat and laid it over a folding chair. His suit was what she figured a power suit must be. It was dark gray with thin black stripes going through it. He wore a dark red tie and carried a genuine leather briefcase that gave Bailey a pang of envy. That’s what her briefcase was supposed to look like someday.

  “I think we’d better just start,” the lawyer said. “I understand there is a small room where we can meet. There will be five of us—Mark Dakota and Gabe Rosen will be included, too.”

  “Yes, of course,” Bailey said as she gestured to a classroom. It was Mrs. Hargrove’s Sunday school room, but it was the largest of the side areas. Bailey had already set up a few folding chairs for the meeting. “I’ll get more chairs for us.”

  Mrs. Hargrove had agreed to keep an eye on Rosie during the meeting.

  It was Mark who brought in the extra chairs and Bailey was glad for it. She was beginning to have a bad feeling about that tall woman. She had noticed a ragged red University of Montana T-shirt under the bulky gray sweater that she wore. The University of Montana was in Missoula.

  “The T-shirt. Are you a student there?” Bailey addressed the question to the woman’s back.

  She didn’t turn around. “Thrift store find. I plan to enroll next year.”

  “Still in high school?” Bailey asked.

  “I’ll be twenty-one soon. High school is a long time ago.”

  “Oh,” Bailey said as she sat in one of the chairs. Mark sat next to her. Finally, everyone was seated.

  The lawyer opened his briefcase and brought out five copies of a legal document.

  “The will,” the lawyer announced, keeping all of the copies in his hand. “I’ll go over the main points and then you can read them for yourselves. I’ll take any questions at the end.”

  Bailey thought she might faint. She reached out and took Mark’s hand. He gave hers a gentle squeeze.

  “Just keep breathing,” he whispered to her.

  Then the lawyer began speaking again.

  “First, Eli wanted me to say that he values his family very highly.” The lawyer paused and looked directly at each person there. “But he wants to be sure that his family is his family by direct descent. Bloodline only.”

  Okay, Bailey told herself as the lawyer looked at her. Eli had heard the rumors. She knew that much already. He’d wondered about her baby, too.

  “Eli is willing to give up to one hundred percent of his ranch and all the assets, less those he specifies in this will, to you, Junior’s legal wife,” the lawyer said as he looked at Bailey. “If the baby you are carrying is a boy and is shown, through medical tests, to be the offspring of Junior Rosen—”

  Bailey gasped. “What if my baby is a girl?”

  “If your child is female,” the lawyer continued, “and is shown to be the offspring of Junior Rosen, and no other confirmed offspring is found then you will receive the full amount.”

  Bailey almost stood up, but the lawyer didn’t stop.

  “If your child is female,” he said, “And there is another verified offspring, male or female, then the assets will be shared equally.”

  Bailey sat down as Mark’s grip on her hand tightened.

  “What other child?” Bailey asked, her voice faint now that she suspected what was coming.

  The lawyer gestured to the young woman who’d come into the basement with him and was sitting beside him. “Miss Emma Smitt is—”

  “I told you I am Mrs. Junior Rosen,” the woman interrupted. “I have the marriage papers right here.”

  The woman had pulled some papers out of a pocket.

  “I explained that those are not legal,” the lawyer said, pity in his eyes.

  “But we got married,” Emma protested. She looked a little desperate.

  “Junior was already married,” the attorney said patiently. “He couldn’t legally marry anyone else. And that minister who said the words over you wasn’t even licensed. I’m sorry, but—”

  “Junior told me we were married,” Emma said, looking at the whole room. “I never would have—you know—I told him we had to wait and we did.”

  Bailey felt sorry for the woman.

  “He told his father about us,” Emma insisted further.

  Bailey wondered if this was Eli’s gold digger. It gave her comfort to think that Eli might have not felt that badly about her.

  “How far along are you?” Bailey asked and Emma looked over at her.

  “A little over seven months,” the woman whispered and put her hand on her stomach. “I didn’t even know Junior had died in that accident until the lawyer drove up to the mountains and told me. Junior told me he’d be gone for some months because he was riding rodeo to make enough money to give us a good start when the baby came. He couldn’t call me because I don’t have a phone. My trailer doesn’t have cell coverage anyway. It’s out a ways.”

  Bailey knew enough to know it wasn’t rodeo season.

  “Do you need help?” Bailey asked, suddenly realizing the girl might be more desperate than she’d thought. “Do you have any neighbors close that can help? I don’t have much, but—”

  The girl straightened her back. “I get by. Junior left me with groceries. And I have a pickup. And Tommy Two, of course. He’s good company.”

  Bailey was
glad the woman had someone, whoever Tommy Two was. Right now Emma looked pale enough that she really might pass out.

  “Let me go get her something to eat,” Bailey said to the lawyer. “I’ll be right back.”

  The lawyer nodded and Bailey stood up.

  “Let me go with you,” Mark said.

  Together they went out into the rest of the basement. The women were all in the kitchen. A few men loitered around the edge of the room. Only the dessert table had any food dishes left on it.

  “These will do,” Bailey said as she picked up a plate piled with iced ginger cookies.

  After they got back to the room, Bailey passed the plate around and insisted Emma take two cookies. She noticed the woman’s hands shook as she reached for them.

  “I’ll get you a sandwich later,” Bailey said. Then she looked at the lawyer. “Let’s finish this.”

  The lawyer nodded. “I’ll make it brief since a storm is coming in. Assuming Bailey’s baby is fathered by Junior, if it’s a boy and he survives, she inherits half. If her baby is a girl and both her baby and Emma’s baby survive and are Junior’s, then things will be split fairly evenly. I can be more specific later.”

  “What about Rosie?” Bailey asked. “She’s Junior’s daughter.”

  “I’m afraid Eli didn’t factor her into the percentages,” the lawyer said with a grimace. “I mentioned her and Eli said he knew she was Junior’s. But he’s more interested in any male heirs that Junior might have. Again, those percentages will be after the other two bequests are honored.”

  Bailey’s head was spinning. She wasn’t quite sure about the conditions and percentages but she’d wait to read the document itself. “What are those?”

  “The first one is thirty thousand dollars to Mark Dakota,” the lawyer said. “Whenever Mark is able to collect it, which is now, thankfully.” The lawyer looked at Mark and smiled. “Good to see you again, son.”

  Mark nodded and Bailey realized the lawyer must have met Mark years ago on the ranch.