Caleb

by Christine Sterling

  Caleb (the Chapmans #3)

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  The book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. All rights are reserved with the exceptions of quotes used in reviews. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without express written permission from the author.

  Scriptures quoted from the King James Holy Bible.

  All books titled or quoted in this story belong to their respective authors.

  Caleb (The Chapmans #3) ©2020 Christine Sterling

  Cover Design by Virginia McKevitt, Black Widow Books

  Editing by Carolyn Leggo and Amy Petrowich

  www.christinesterling.com

  2nd Edition, 8/2020

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

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  About Christine

  Caleb

  A man yearning for forgiveness. A woman fulfilling a promise; the danger that brings them together.

  Caleb Chapman has never recovered from his brother’s death. He blames himself and vows his remaining days to protecting his family. The chance for adventure calls when he leads a cattle drive from Texas to Nebraska. What he doesn’t expect is to find a beautiful woman with no memory of who she is or how she got there.

  Lydia Whitcomb has no memory of why she’s on the run or protecting a seven-year-old boy. She just knows that something terrible has happened and she is now on a cattle drive to Nebraska. What she doesn’t expect is a handsome cowboy to watch over her until her memory can return.

  What is the secret Lydia has been hiding? Will Lydia be able to hide her feelings for Caleb as easily as she hides her memories? Once her secret comes to light, will it tear the couple apart, or finally be the reckoning they need?

  License Note

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  -- Christine Sterling

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  Acknowledgements

  Jesus, the rock on which I stand. Thank you, Lord for loving a sinner like me.

  My three beautiful daughters, Rebecca, Nora, and Elizabeth, who are the reasons for everything I write.

  I couldn’t do this without my team of editors and proofreaders – Carolyn and Amy, thank you for making me look good!

  Thank you to Virginia McKevitt for my many tweaks on the book covers. You have the patience of Job!

  My best friend and sister, Lauren Sorgaard, for allowing me to cry and scream when the words aren’t flowing and celebrating with me, when they are!

  Dedication

  To my love and better half, Daniel. Thank you for loving and supporting me.

  Thank you to the Chapman Street Team for making this entire series possible!

  These amazing individuals read each chapter of this book as it was being developed and provided such amazing feedback! They also named about 90% of the characters! I appreciate every single one of you!

  Alice Kimes

  Amy Petrowich

  Dolores Howard

  Jocelyn Logan

  Laura Park

  Lauren Sorgaard,

  Marcia Montoya

  Paulette Marshall

  Rhonda Myers

  Sandra White

  Sandy Sorola

  Sue Krznaric

  Theresa Baer

  Zona Fannin

  www.thechapmansaga.com

  Preface

  April 1865, San Angelo, Texas

  The pounding on the door woke Lydia Whitcomb from a sound sleep. She strained her ears, listening for the sound again.

  Her husband, John rolled over and pulled Lydia close. “It’s just the thunder,” he murmured against her skin. “Go back to sleep, Lydia.”

  She didn’t hear the sound again, so she pulled the covers up underneath her chin to ward off the storm. Perhaps her husband was right. There had been terrible storms for the past few nights. She sighed and watched the room fill with bright light as lightning cracked near the house.

  Lydia jumped up from bed. “That was close,” she said. Storms always frightened her. But this one appeared almost ominous. As if it were bringing bad news.

  John opened one eye and looked at her. “It is right above us,” he said. “Really, Lyd, come back to bed. I have to move those cattle from the south pasture tomorrow.” He moved the covers and patted the straw-filled mattress next to him.

  The pounding sounded against the door once more.

  “John!” A man’s voice called. This time it was John that bolted from the bed.

  “That sounds like the marshal,” he said. He grabbed his pants and hopped to the door as he shoved one leg and then the other through the pant legs.

  Lydia lit a candle. She grabbed a shawl and followed her husband to the door. Removing the bar across the door, John pulled it open to reveal a man and a woman standing on the porch.

  Lightning flashed in the distance allowing Lydia a good look at the two people standing in the pouring rain. She could tell they both were soaked.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” John asked, ushering the marshal and the strange woman into the house. “Lydia, put on some coffee,” he demanded, before escorting the woman to the settee Lydia had brought from Pennsylvania. It was her mother’s and now this woman was dripping water all over the fabric.

  Lydia knew it would be stained once it dried.

  She quickly nodded to her husband and ran to the stove in the corner of the room. She put a few sticks in the wood box. Feeding a piece of waxed linen between the sticks, she said a little prayer. She hoped the small linen would be enough to catch fire from the ashes still smoldering in the stove.

  As she waited for the fire to rekindle, she glanced over her shoulder. The woman was breathing hard and Lydia could see dark hair clinging to the stranger’s head. Her skin was pale, and she wrinkled her face in a grimace.

  Lydia quickly turned. Grabbing the coffee pot, she placed eggshells and grounds in the bottom and filled it with water from a bucket next to the stove. Once the pot was situated above the fire, she returned to her husband.

  John’s back was to her. She couldn’t see what was happening, but she could hear her husband whispering to the marshal. Whatever they were talking about must not be good.

  “I ain’t no doctor,” John said. Doctor?
Lydia’s ears perked up.

  “Is everything alright?” Lydia asked, moving around her husband to stand in front of the settee. “Oh my,” she murmured. She lifted her fingers to her lips and stared at the woman.

  The woman grasped Lydia’s hand and squeezed with everything she must have had inside her. Lydia felt her fingers twist under the pressure.

  “Arrrrgh!” the woman cried.

  Lydia watched as the woman’s belly released and contracted.

  “She’s with child,” Lydia said. “Why didn’t you take her to the doctor?”

  “She specifically said not to.” The marshal took his hat off and tapped it against his oil coat. Lydia watched as water pooled on her clean floors under his feet.

  “Why ever not?” The woman squeezed Lydia’s hand once more. “She needs a doctor. Not a rancher or a rancher’s wife.”

  “She asked for you by name, Mrs. Whitcomb.”

  Lydia’s eyes flew to her husband. “I don’t understand. I don’t know this woman.”

  “Ma told me if I was ever in trouble to find you.”

  “Your mother?” The woman nodded, grimacing as another pain overtook her. “It looks like the pain is getting worse.” Lydia put her hand against the woman’s head. “She’s burning up with fever too.” She looked to her husband and the marshal. “I’ll need boiling water and rags. John, bring me the old bed sheets, I can cut those up. Marshal, if you can carry her to our bedroom, she’ll be more comfortable there.”

  “Our bedroom?” John asked.

  Lydia nodded. “I won’t have her having the baby on this settee.” She shooed John away with her free hand. “Come with me,” she told the marshal.

  The marshal walked around the couch, picked up the pregnant woman and followed Lydia to the bedroom. She didn’t have time to change the sheets, so she simply stripped off the top sheet and the blanket.

  It would have to do for now.

  The marshal gently laid the woman in the middle of the bed. He stood and shifted uncomfortably, rocking from foot to foot. “I guess I’ll go wait with John now,” he said.

  Lydia nodded and closed the door after the marshal left. She returned to the bed and sat on the side, running her hand against the woman’s forehead. Her hair was sticky against Lydia’s fingers.

  “What’s your name?” Lydia asked softly.

  “Vangie,” the woman replied. She arched her back. “It hurts so much.”

  “Vangie, I’m Lydia. I don’t know much about birthing babies, but I’ve helped a cow and a horse. I guess that is about the same thing.” Lydia moved down to the end of the bed. “I need to check to see if the baby is showing.”

  The woman nodded and Lydia peeked underneath the woman’s skirt. She let out a little gasp.

  “Is everything alright?” Vangie asked.

  Lydia quickly released the skirt and nodded. “Yes, it will be. May I feel your belly?” The woman nodded. Lydia quickly ran and grabbed a clean nightshirt from her trunk. “You’ll feel better in some dry clothes.”

  Lydia quickly helped the woman strip the wet clothes and dry off with a coarse towel. She then handed Vangie the clean nightshirt and helped her back into bed. When the woman leaned back, Lydia ran her hands over the woman’s belly. She pressed in several different areas and then smiled at her patient.

  “I think the baby hasn’t turned yet. It is trying to come out but can’t. How long have you been like this?”

  “Two days,” the woman huffed. “I came looking for you.”

  “I don’t know why. Do we know each other?”

  The woman lifted from the bed and clutched her belly. “We’s kin.”

  Lydia thought for a moment. She didn’t have any relatives in Texas as she moved from Boston when she married John.

  “We can talk about that later. Right now, I’m going to see if we can turn that baby inside you,” Lydia said, heading towards the door. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some water and some help.”

  “Don’t leave me, Lydia,” Vangie begged, her arm reaching out towards Lydia.

  “Only for a moment.” Lydia slipped out. Her husband and the marshal quickly stood.

  “That was fast,” John said.

  “Not fast enough. I think the baby is trying to come out bottom first. I’m going to try to turn it.” She turned to the marshal. “You are going to have to get the doctor.”

  “I don’t think that is wise, Lydia.”

  “What’s going on, Sam?”

  “She is running, so the fewer people that know she is here, the better.”

  “Wouldn’t Doc Morrisey be trustworthy? She needs help.”

  “I dunno. I know that she was running from some pretty bad folks.”

  “And you brought that danger to our doorstep?” Lydia saw John move forward.

  The marshal lifted his hands. “She came to me, because she was trying to find you.”

  “She mentioned she was kin.”

  The marshal nodded. “She said that her mother and your mother were sisters. I guess that makes you cousins.”

  “That’s impossible. My mother was an only child.”

  “She knew your maiden name. I only remembered it because I was at your wedding.”

  A cry from behind the door drew their attention.

  “Lydia,” a weak voice called.

  “I need to get back in there. Sam, if you can keep boiling water; John, you’ll need to help me. I think this is more than just pulling a calf out.”

  “I dunno, Lyd…”

  Another cry had Lydia running to the door. “Fetch the water,” she directed as she disappeared back into the bedroom. She left the door open so John could come in.

  “It hurts. Hurts so badly.”

  John placed a bowl of steaming water on the table next to the bed and then reached for a linen shirt from a peg.

  Lydia wet a rag in water and patted it against Vangie’s head. “I know, honey.”

  Vangie started weeping. “I want my Ma.”

  “Shhhh.” Lydia tried to soothe the frantic woman. “We’ll get word to your ma as soon as we can. Right now, let’s worry about getting this baby born.”

  “No! She mustn’t know about the baby.” Vangie’s head rocked against the pillow. “No one can know.”

  Lydia stood and placed her hands on Vangie’s belly. She felt for the head against the woman’s tight skin. She lifted her eyes to John and shook her head. The baby was too big to turn.

  Understanding the gravity of the situation, John moved to the side of the bed. “I have an idea. When a dog has a breech pup, she squats to deliver it. Maybe that would work?”

  Lydia nodded. “You help hold her steady. Vangie, roll over if you can, we are going to help you up.”

  “Hurts too much.”

  “I know.” But she didn’t know. She had been married for three years and there wasn’t any sign of a baby. She knew John was disappointed.

  When the contraction subsided, John lifted Vangie under the arms and held her in a kneeling position. Lydia adjusted the bottom of the nightshirt for modesty, although she was sure that it was the last thing on the soon-to-be mother’s mind.

  “I think I’m feeling my belly squeeze again.”

  “When you feel that, push. Push as hard as you can.” Vangie’s face contorted as she held her breath and pushed. Lydia could see Vangie’s face turning red as she held her breath. “One more, I can see the buttocks and a leg.”

  Vangie exhaled and a small slippery package fell to the bed. “My baby,” she said, falling to the side.

  Lydia quickly picked up the baby and handed him to John. He would know what to do, better than she would. “You have a son,” she told Vangie.

  John laid the boy down and quickly cleared out the baby’s mouth. He then turned him over and gave him several swats on the bottom. The boy remained silent.

  “Breathe,” John said hoarsely. “Breathe.” He picked up the sheet and began rubbing the boy’s back in earnest. Lydia hel
d her breath, only releasing it when she heard the first wails from the newborn.

  She grabbed Vangie’s hand. “He’s alright, Vangie. He’s alright.”

  John quickly wrapped the baby up in a linen sheet. “We’ll have to cut the cord, but he does seem healthy. Has all ten fingers and toes.”

  “Thank you,” Vangie said. Her voice sounded weak.

  “What are you going to call him?” Lydia asked.

  “Hart…” Vangie quickly grabbed Lydia’s hand and pulled her close. “Promise me.”

  “Promise you? What?”

  “Promise me you won’t let anything happen to him.”

  “Of course not, but you are here.”

  Vangie sank back down on the pillow. “Promise me you’ll love him as your own.”

  Lydia snapped her gaze to John who was holding the infant.

  “We promise, Vangie,” John said. “Like our own.”

  Vangie gave a small smile before laying back on the pillow and closing her eyes.

  John walked around and placed the infant in Lydia’s arms. “You are going to have to fix him a sugar teat.”

  Lydia bounced the baby in her arms. “Hart. What an unusual name.” She looked at her husband. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to see what the marshal knows about this woman.” He gave Lydia a kiss on her forehead and left the room.

  Lydia looked down at the baby swaddled in her arms. He had pale skin and big blue eyes with a tuft of dark hair. She gave a laugh as she saw three freckles across his nose.

  Angel kisses.

  No matter where he came from, God’s mighty angels were watching over him.

  The sound of thunder cracked in the sky and Lydia saw lightning through the picture window. Its long fork hitting the ground in the distance.

  She gave a last glance at Vangie. The woman’s chest was rising underneath the nightshirt. She’d get the boy taken care of and then look after his mother. “Let’s find you something to eat, baby Hart,” she said, pulling the bedroom door closed behind her.