He gnawed his lower lip. “It isn’t seemly for us to live together.”
“We’re not living together,” she shot back. “Just sharing a cabin is all.”
“It’s not right, if anyone ever found out….”
“How could they? You said yourself the place is isolated and you never have visitors.”
“And if we go into town together?”
He wouldn’t trust her to stay with Alice. She didn’t blame him really. He knew nothing about her, nor did she know anything about herself, either. I’m not an evil person, I’d know if I was. “Would you,” a little inner voice whispered. “Can you be sure?”
She choked on her coffee and he gave her a couple of slaps on the back. She had to stop churning things around in her brain all the time, it made her head ache. “You’ll have to make Alice some toys.” She tried to divert her thoughts.
“Toys?”
“Yes, something for her to play with.”
“She’s too young.”
“Not for a rattle.”
“I’ll see. Oh, by the way, there’s an outhouse down the back if you need to go. You’ll have to take a lamp, it will be pitch black down there. I bring water up from the creek. It’s not far. I fill a couple of barrels at a time. I made a hand cart to carry them back. You don’t have to worry about it. If you need to do washing. I can just go there more often.”
This was the most words he had ever spoken to her. Maybe he was starting to thaw out.
“I’ve got a hip bath too, although I sometimes just take a swim.”
“And your wife?”
“What? Oh yeah, she used the hip bath.” He turned his head away, but red crept up the back of his neck.
Missie washed the dishes and put them away. Logan was a tidy man. There was nothing left lying about, everything stored neatly in the cupboard. Tomorrow she would start sewing Alice’s new wardrobe.
Finally, she got to the stage where she had to relieve herself. “Um, I need to go to the outhouse.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No, I’ll just need a lamp.”
“Take this one, I’ll open the stove door, the fire will throw out enough light until you get back.”
“Thank you.” She took the lamp from him.
“Step off the porch then head along the path, you can’t miss it.”
She did as he said, then started down a path, crushed rock by the feel of it under her boots. She should have accepted his offer to escort her as it was indeed pitch black. It would have meant him leaving the baby alone, and she wouldn’t expect that of him.
Bushes rustled nearby, a gentle breeze softly sighed in the treetops. She was glad of the lamp, even if it did cast out eerie shadows around her because the moon was half hidden by cloud.
When she returned inside Logan had hung the blanket up and moved the cradle next to the sofa. Missie changed and fed Alice, all the while wondering why the mother would take the baby’s clothes away. She obviously hated her child as well as her husband.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare nightshirt you could let me wear?” she asked.
“No.”
Heat raced into her face. He slept naked? She tried to divert her thoughts from wondering what he would look like in that state.
“I wear my drawers. Take one of my shirts, it should reach your knees at least.”
“Thank you.”
Once Alice was settled, Missie yawned. “I might go to bed myself. I didn’t get much sleep in jail. I didn’t trust the Marshal or….”
“Yeah, I can imagine. I’ll bank up the stove before turning in, it still gets chilly at night here.”
“What time do you get up? I can have breakfast ready for you.”
“Don’t worry for tomorrow at least, I’ll do a few chores then come back.”
“To check on me?” The words caused him to scowl.
“Yeah.” He stepped over to the cupboard, picked up a neatly folded, but un-ironed shirt and handed it to her. “You get yourself ready before I put the lamp out, I know my way around here even in the dark. In case you were wondering, I always sleep with a gun under my pillow.”
The words hung between them as she scampered behind the curtain. She didn’t blame him for being wary because of the baby. It was the way he kept hammering the point home that irked her.
She changed out of her clothes, leaving on only her drawers. She would have to wash them tomorrow. Maybe she could fashion a pair of drawers out of the flour bags? She had to do something, as she hated feeling dirty. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she did.
She lay on the sofa and stared up at Logan’s bed. He moved around, light footed as a cat. The lamp went out and total silence descended on the cabin for a moment or two. The boards above her head creaked slightly. He muttered something and punched the pillow a couple of times, then once again, silence reigned.
CHAPTER SIX
Logan lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. Not even a sliver of light came through the roof because he had built it so well. This wasn’t going to be easy. He had always slept naked until he found Alice. It somehow didn’t feel right not to at least wear his drawers to bed, her being a little gal and all.
Missie was an attractive women, especially now she had washed the grime off her face and tied back her hair. What would she look like in decent clothes? He pulled up his thoughts, not liking where they were straying. He was a man with the usual male urges. Grief and hard work had held them in check, helped by not having any females around.
He honestly did believe she had lost her memory, no-one could act that well. What had happened to her?
They would have to go into Trails End within the next few days. Apart from the lack of tinned milk, there were other things he hadn’t been able to buy in Golden Square.
Could he trust her to stay at the cabin with the baby? Hell no, he couldn’t risk it. If he took her into town, what then? Questions would be raised about him suddenly acquiring a family.
Maybe he could say Missie was his cousin who had come to stay with the baby. He wasn’t good at lying, never had been, more to the point he didn’t like it. “You can watch a thief but not a liar,” his father always said. Her husband was staying with them as well and he didn’t come into town because he was feeling poorly. It sounded plausible.
What if Missie inadvertently or deliberately let slip she wasn’t the baby’s mother. Goddammit, what could he do? Leave her at old Sam Davey’s place he suddenly thought. At the camping site where he had sometimes stayed when he had been too drunk to ride all the way home. After losing Alice, and in the early days of moving here, he had drank to excess. Sam only lived a couple of miles out of town. The man actually disliked people, whereas he just couldn’t be bothered with them.
Sam wouldn’t ask questions at all, he hardly ever spoke, but they were friends. He had once saved Sam from a drunken cowboy who took offence when the old man wouldn’t speak to him. This was the best idea he could come up with. He would only have to leave them with the old man for a couple of hours at most.
Logan awoke with a start. What was that noise? It wasn’t Alice. “I didn’t do it. You know I didn’t do it,”Missie cried out in anguish.
“You all right?” he said. No answer. She must be dreaming about something unpleasant by the sounds of it. Silence reigned once more. Logan felt his eyelids grow heavy. His last thought was – at least the baby hadn’t woken up.
Staring into the darkness, Missie couldn’t believe she had cried out and woken Logan. She hadn’t answered when he’d called out, wanted him to think she was asleep.
There were flashes of memory. Fire. Angry men. The jail cell in Golden Square, where the man sleeping in the bunk above had rescued her. She felt as if she had barely closed her eyes when Alice’s crying woke her. She reached over and picked her up.
“Don’t cry so, darling. I know you’re hungry.” The moment the little mouth closed around her nipple, the baby sucked strongly. How be
autiful it was to nurse a child. Even if it wasn’t your own.
Missie pegged out the last item of washing on the line. The early morning sun was warm, not hot, so why did she feel dizzy?
A sudden pain shot through her head, black spots flashed before her eyes, so intense it brought her to her knees. An army of drummers played inside her head, her stomach turned queasy.
I have to get back to the cabin. I can’t leave the baby on her own. She gritted her teeth. “You will not faint,” she sobbed the words out.
Standing was beyond her. Everything was blurry, and the ground seemed to be moving up and down like a giant, rolling sea. Thankfully the grass was soft as she crawled along. A band around her head seemed to be squeezing at her brain. It wasn’t far to the door thank goodness. She got to her feet with the aid of the porch post, stumbled inside and collapsed on the sofa. Closing her eyes, she hoped it would reduce the pain in her head.
Missie woke up with a start and glanced around. What was she doing here? Her thoughts were jumbled. This was Logan McGregor’s cabin, although she hadn’t driven here like Daniel had instructed. He had pleaded with his dying breath for her to go to his brother’s place with their baby to ensure they were safe from Sebastian Foster and his men. They had wanted Daniel’s ranch because of the deep well and a spring fed creek which never ran dry. Foster would stop at nothing to get his hands on it.
She was Jemma McGregor. A scream almost escaped her, would have had she not shoved her fist against her mouth. Her memory had returned and it was truly shocking, except for the fact, baby Alice was her daughter. Daniel had insisted she be called Alice after Logan’s wife who had tragically died when her house was burnt down. It was understandable Logan wanting to keep Alice and fabricating the story about his wife running off. He had to say the baby was his or risk losing her. All the inconsistencies made sense now.
They had almost made it to Logan’s place when she’d been attacked and beaten. Her assailants had thrown Alice in the bushes and driven off with her slung in the back of Daniel’s wagon. She had fought them until a punch in the face had knocked her out.
If Logan hadn’t found Alice she would have died of exposure or been attacked by wild animals. Even as she shuddered, she glanced over at the cradle where the baby slept peacefully.
Those vile men were taking her to Deadwood where they planned to sell her to the Madame of a brothel. She had thrown herself off the small wagon and rolled down into a gully, slamming her head on a rock.
When she finally came to, she didn’t know who she was or where she was. From then on she had no memory of anything, not even the people who found her and took her into Golden Square.
Should she tell Logan straight away she was Jemma, the widow of his dead brother? That Alice was hers? She didn’t like lying, never had. The one lie she had ever told had cost her dearly.
She couldn’t stand up, not yet. “Lie quietly Jemma until your strength returns.” She repeated the words a few times.
It would be best if she told him only part of her story and see what his reaction was. Daniel had said, Logan arrived back from the cattle drive the day his wife was buried. Maddened with grief, he had mounted his horse and rode away without knowing who had lit the fire.
The injustice of it all left a bad taste in her mouth, and a dark cloud hanging over her head. After a while she felt well enough to make a decision – tell him part of the story. It would ease her conscience, make her feel a little better.
Slowly she raised her head, thankfully the room didn’t spin. Emboldened, she sat up. So far, so good. Swinging her feet to the floor she carefully stood. Alice was awake. She had kicked off her blanket and was playing with her toes.
Jemma stared at her. She’s mine. No wonder I had such a strong and immediate connection with her. “You are my flesh and blood, Logan’s too, for that matter.”
What would become of them now? Logan wouldn’t let Alice go, she’d be a fool to believe otherwise. Hopefully, he would let her stay also. Life could go on the way it had since she arrived here. He had mentioned about enlarging the loft. She and Alice could have this as their room and Logan could remain where he was. No-one ever came here, so the impropriety of their living under the one roof shouldn’t be a problem.
It was the only solution she could come up with. Daniel had wanted it. He obviously trusted Logan to do the right thing by them.
Her few worldly possessions had been in the wagon she had driven here. I almost made it before those horrible men attacked me. Now, thanks to them she had nothing. Not even her wedding ring. They had ripped it off her finger and stolen the Scottish thistle brooch Daniel had given her on the day of their marriage.
Theirs hadn’t been a real love match as he had married her out of guilt, and she had married him to get a roof over her head. Affection had grown between them as time passed. She scrubbed away the tears trickling down her cheeks.
“Go to Logan,” he had pleaded with his dying breath. “He’ll look after you and the baby. Go as soon as I’m dead. I’m selfish enough to not want to die alone, then leave straight away. Once they know I’m dead you won’t be safe.”
“You won’t die alone.” Her tears fell on to his ashen face. “I promise I’ll stay with you.”
The moment he took his last breath she’d closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his bloodied chest, threw a few possessions into the wagon and left on the long journey to Logan’s ranch.
She suddenly heard the sound of an axe against wood. Going to the back porch she watched Logan, stripped to the waist, chopping into half a tree trunk. He had obviously used his horses to drag the tree up near the outhouse, so he could cut it into small logs to feed the stove.
He worked close to the cabin, meaning he still didn’t trust her. It warmed her heart knowing he cared so much for the baby, he left all except his most important chores undone to ensure her safety.
It didn’t stop Jemma’s frustration. He would have to be blind not to notice how attached to Alice she was. How could he think she would do her any harm? What would he say when he knew, not only was Alice her child, but she had McGregor blood running through her veins?
The baby had her father’s bright blue eyes. Why hadn’t he seen the similarities? It had been three years since the brothers had last met. Thank goodness Logan had written and told Daniel where he lived. The brothers had never been close. Different mothers, and ten years difference in their ages had seen to that.
By her reckoning Logan would have to be in his early thirties. She wondered why he hadn’t married again. He was a good looking man, not wealthy by any means, although comfortably set up. Like he’d said last night, this could be a good ranch if he had some help with it. Well, he had help now – her, and not only in the house. She had made a sling to carry Alice on her back like the Indian squaws did, and with a bonnet to cover the baby’s face and keep the sun off, she could help with outside chores as well.
He could buy more livestock now, a few hogs, a milking cow, and if he needed to go away for work she could cope. It should pay for her and Alice’s keep.
She had lengthened the shirt he had given her for a nightgown by using the flour bags to make a frill, long enough to reach calf level. After making clothes for the baby, she had made pillow cases and baby sheets out of the flour bags. Luckily Logan had kept quite a lot of them.
They had been washed before they were packed away, but after she had washed and dried them again they were quite soft to touch.
There were a couple of windows in the cabin and she decided curtains would be nice if she could buy cheap gingham when they went into town.
The cabin was solidly built, comfortable, befitting a man on his own, not a family though. What was she thinking? She could never be more than a guest in his home. The poor relative. It was madness to think like this because she was hiding too many dark secrets.
Jemma hurried back to the kitchen area when Alice started to grizzle. They had eaten stew last night for supper, and
would have the left over on toast for lunch today. This would finish off the bread from the store, too. Not that it was very nice, she could bake much better herself.
She sat on a chair to feed the baby.
Logan strode in. “Lunch ready?” He had his shirt on, but damp patches showed up on the material stretched across his back.
“You should have toweled your back and arms dry before putting on your shirt.” The words fell out of her mouth of their own volition.
He ignored them. “How are you doin’, little darlin’?” He took the baby’s hand, making sure his eyes were fixed at a point above her head, and not Jemma’s partially exposed breast, as he always did.
He stepped over to the bench next to the stove where the water bucket sat and dipped a mug in. “Chopping wood sure gives a man a thirst. I’ll bring a couple of armfuls on to the porch while you finish with the baby.”
“Good idea, then I’ll dish up lunch.”
“Left over stew?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Yes,” she said defensively. “I didn’t want to waste it, besides you are starting to get low on a few things.”
“Look, Missie….”
“My name is Jemma.”
“What!” He stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth hung open, his eyes darkened.
“It’s Jemima really. I’m Daniel’s wife.”
“The hell you are.”
“I am. Daniel was shot, and with his dying breath pleaded with me to come here.”
He rocked back on his heels. The color drained from his face.
“He said Alice and I would….”
“Alice!” his voice was low, almost guttural now. “Yours? She can’t be.” He slumped against the wall.
“Look at her eyes and tell me if they aren’t like Daniel’s.”
“She’s my niece?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not having her. You threw her away like a piece of rubbish,” he growled.
Logan (Bachelors And Babies Book 2) Page 5
