AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories)

by Carmella Jones

  Jacob felt a twinge of humor strike him, even while he understood the seriousness of the situation. Someone was out there diverting women away from their intended husbands. Doing so would not be difficult, for every ad that he had ever read did not include a photograph of the husband-to-be. Any man could show up and pretend that he himself had placed the ad.

  He said, “I haven’t. But that’s immaterial-”

  “Immaterial indeed! Why, I’ll have you know-”

  “-next to your ordeal. I believe that you and I should pay a visit to the sheriff and inform him of the situation.”

  “Now how I do know you really are Jacob Renmyer? I must confess that my head is so turned around that I don’t know what is what precisely. Can you prove to me that you who you say you are?”

  Jacob shrugged his shoulders. “Once we see the sheriff, he’ll either recognize me or he won’t. Then you’ll have your answer.”

  Rachel considered this statement for a time. Doing so appeared to calm her down. Then she said, “He’s a fair man, your sheriff?”

  “As far as any other. He gets hot under the collar when anybody tells him that he doesn’t do his job. Otherwise, he’s easy to get along with I think you’ll find.”

  She grab Jacob’s sleeve. She said, “Good. Then let us go there at once.”

  3

  Sheriff John Farson’s office was not difficult to find, for it lay four doors down from the saloon. A five-pointed metal star had been painted on a sign that hung above the sheriff’s door. Rachel kept dragging Jacob by the shirt collar until they both stumbled into the office.

  There were two cells, each of which was regularly used as a place where the town drunks could sleep off a night of hard drinking. It had a single desk that the sheriff had built himself. One of the desk’s four legs did not reach all the way down to the floor. A rock had been placed under the front right corner of the desk. However, as the rock was one size too big, that corner of the desk stuck up in the air. Though Jacob had been in the office several times before, he never got used to the sight of the lopsided desk. It didn’t seem right to him.

  The man sitting behind it was six feet and four inches tall. He stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the town. He had a head full of thick blond hair that he let grow beyond what regulations would have called for, were he living in a bigger town. Yet, as Sawtooth primarily served as a ranching town where people stopped to rest on their way to California, no one from the state government interfered in his business too often. He let things go that would not have been tolerated in Philadelphia. Though he tried to keep his shirt tucked in, a corner would sometimes poke out over his waistline. If it did, he paid it no mind. He wore a tan uniform with a silver star upon his chest. His boots were often muddy, except when he expected a visit from a county or city official. Then he brought out his dress boots. Those days were rare enough that he had earned the nickname of “Mudshoes.”

  He had used a part of his budget to purchase a typewriter from Chicago. The machine sat on the slightly slanted desk looking like a miniature stove. Jacob had trouble imagining that anyone could write anything on the machine. Yet somehow, the sheriff managed it.

  When he heard two people stumble into his office, he looked up from his work and said, “Mr. Renmyer and...I’m sorry miss, I don’t know your name.”

  Rachel let go of Jacob’s shirt sleeve and said, “The name is O’Leary, your honor. Rachel O’Leary. I’m here on official business, I fear to confess.”

  The sheriff asked, “Jacob, do you know anything about this? I don’t recall having this woman in my town before.”

  Jacob smoothed out his shirt as best he could, then said, “Miss O’Leary here has arrived from Kansas. She claims that after departing the train-”

  Rachel held up a hand. She said, “I’ll tell my story myself, if you please.”

  Jacob stopped. He waited.

  Farson said, “Well, miss? Perhaps you would care to educate me on what has occurred.”

  Rachel related the incidents that had brought her to Sawtooth, Nevada. She had begun by reading a boilerplate advertisement from Nevada. She took a train ride to Reno where she met someone who claimed to be Jacob Renmyer- but only after she had shown the man the advertisement that she had brought with her. The man had led her into the wilderness, telling her that he had his own land, but that they would have to ride to get there. She did not mind riding a horse, for she had done so from an early age. She rode through heat the smeared her makeup and through woods that cut at her clothing. At one point, she had stopped her horse to ask the man what he thought he was playing at. It was then that he had pulled his gun on her. He demanded that she turn over all her valuables. She had been carrying a knapsack with her, which had contained everything that she owned in the world.

  Afterward, he had left her where she was to fend for herself. She tried walking back to the train station only to find that she got herself lost. If she had not encountered a passing stranger on the road who told her the way to Sawtooth- it had been five miles due east of where she found the passing stranger- she might have starved to death out there in the wild.

  When she finished her story, the sheriff used the knuckle of his index finger to raise the brim of his hat. He said, “Now if that doesn’t take the care. I’ve heard some wild adventures like you wouldn’t believe. I never did hear of a man taking advantage of a woman like that. Would you be willing to describe the man to me? Might be someone will recognize him if I pass word around.”

  Rachel described the man to him as best she could. That process took ten minutes. Jacob leaned his back against the wall while he waited. He wondered just what it was that he had gotten himself into.

  4

  When they left what passed for a police station in Sawtooth, Rachel said, “Mr. Renmyer, what is it that you do for a living?”

  Jacob kept walking, back toward the saloon. He said, “I’m a cowpuncher.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. She said, “Surely not.”

  Jacob stopped. He saw the incredulity written all over her face. He said, “You do know what a cowpuncher is, don’t you?”

  “It just so happens that I do not. Perhaps you would care to explain.”

  “There’s a man who lives in these parts, goes by the name of Callahan. He has a big tract of land up north of here half a piece. He’s a wheat farmer, and a cattle farmer. But since he doesn’t have but one son, he has to hire help to take care of his cows.”

  “How do you mean, take care of his cows? All he need do is erect a fence, surely?”

  “That might be true, if the cows didn’t get thirsty. They can’t subsist on dew every morning. There’s too many of them to make it practical to bring water in from a nearby stream or river. So that’s where I come in. Every day, I lead the cows down to a watering hole so they can have their drink. They could do it themselves, if they didn’t have a habit of getting lost or getting stolen. That’s where I come in.”

  She took in what he said before she replied. She said, “Does it pay well? I trust you make a good living for yourself?”

  He said, “It pays well enough. I have my own cabin out yonder. Gets a mite cold in the winter and a mite hot in the summer. It doesn’t bother me none when I’m sleeping, though.”

  She put her hands on her hips before saying, “So, do you wish to get married? I am ready to begin at once.”

  Jacob thought about leaving for another state. He had wanted to do that, hadn’t he? Marrying the woman had responded to his ad would surely force him to settle down in Nevada. He ran a hand through his hair and said, “One thing at a time here. Okay? Let’s you and I sit down and talk. Then we’ll see where we stand.”

  “That sounds fair enough to me.”

  By the time they got to the saloon, they found a surprise waiting for them.

  5

  A man wearing a derby hat and red suspenders had come into the bar. He had a handgun on either hip. Though Jacob had never found it necessary t
o carry a gun around, he could not fault those that did. People were still wary of Indian raiding parties, even though one had never come to Sawtooth. He supposed that he would have to carry a gun one day, if for no other reason than to have a fowling piece. Some folks carried their rifles in their bedrolls so as to surprise anyone who might come looking for trouble. Others, like the man who had entered the saloon, made no secret about walking around armed. In Jacob’s experience, doing so only led men into a grave on Boot Hill. Every town that he visited had a Boot Hill, and into each of were interred the remains of men who had thought that they could draw faster and shoot better than anyone else. They were born spoiling for a fight and, more often than not, they found one without too much difficulty.

  The man spoke with an Irish accent, just as Rachel did. Jacob considered that to be one coincidence too many for the day. He heard the man saying, “Has a woman by the name of Rachel O’Leary come here today?”

  Rachel burst through the doors of the saloon when she heard the voice. She cried out, “Seamus Flanagan, as I live and breathe, did I not say that I was through with you?”

  Seamus’ face turned beet red. He huffed out a breath, then approached Rachel, who was a head shorter than him. He said, “Aye, that you did, and I’ll not believe it, for you’ve often said such and then come back to me. This is no different, I’m sure. You’ll change your tune when your temper cools, or I’m not an Irishman.”

  Rachel scoffed. She said, “After what you’ve done? That I will not. For sure as I live and breathe, I know that I saw you in the arms of that slut Heather Worthington. I’ve had done with you and your cheating ways, Seamus. I’ve found a new man.”

  She gestured to Jacob, who stood at the threshold, trying to figure out how to disentangle himself from the situation. Seamus looked from Rachel to Jacob, then said, “You’ve got a new man? Just like that? I’ll not have it. I swear to you that I shall not. I’ll not have it.”

  Jacob said, “Excuse me-”

  Rachel interrupted him before he could finish. She said, “Whether you’ll have it or no is nothing at all to me. This is how it must be. I’ve found a man who can be relied upon to keep his word, and I aim to marry him. As for you, Seamus Flanagan, you had your chance and then some. You must learn to keep your pants on before you declare your undying devotion to any woman.”

  Seamus grabbed Rachel by the wrist. She cried out. He said, “You’ll be coming back with me to Topeka, and there’s no two ways about it.”

  Jacob then interjected himself in the situation. He wasn’t sure then what compelled him to do so. Though he had been raised to believe that a man should never strike a woman, he knew as he moved forward that he would be better off if he let Seamus have his way. He could go back to his normal life, and then decide whether or not he wanted to help Callahan find a new man to look after his cattle. He could go to the Salinas Valley and buy himself an orange orchard, if he so chose. He had enough money saved up. He could go today, if he wanted to. He thought about all the fruits he would pick. He thought about hiring migrant workers to help out with each season’s harvest, and then selling his products to whoever would take them. He thought about these things even while he put a hand on Seamus’ chest.

  He said, “Excuse me-”

  Seamus said, “A pox on you!”

  Then, he struck Jacob so hard about the head that the world went dark before Jacob even hit the floor.

  6

  He woke up to find Rachel wringing out a white towel into a washbasin. He lay in bed- that was strange enough. He couldn’t recall actually sleeping in any kind of bed at all since he had come to Nevada. He had made do with what he had, which was good enough for him. Now, as he opened his eyes to get a sense of his surroundings, he understood why people put themselves through so much trouble to get mattresses in their bedrooms. The bed was comfortable, so impossibly comfortable that he could not quite believe it. His head rested on a pillow. He had almost forgotten that pillows existed, much less that he could lay down on one. He decided that if a warm bed was what putting down roots felt like, then that might not be as bad as he had once thought.

  He murmured while he stretched his legs. Rachel looked at him at once. Concern filled her eyes. She said, “Oh my love, are you hurt?”

  He said, “Love?”

  The word felt out of place to him. He had known Rachel O’Leary all of five minutes. He wasn’t sure what he thought of her. He still wasn’t sure how it was that she had come so quickly after the advertisement had been placed. Either the mail traveled very fast indeed, or one of the newspapers had sent out their boilerplate before they published it in their own papers. He thought that was unlikely. He planned to ask her, if he ever got around to it. That, he suspected, might be some time away. He had always heard the phrase, “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Rachel had come of her own will with a proposition of marriage. If she meant it, if she was willing to commit to spending the rest of her life with him, then that might not be so bad. For, as much as he didn’t like to admit it, he had wanted to find a wife when he put those advertisements out.

  She said, “Don’t try to get up. You’ve been asleep these past few hours.”

  As consciousness fully returned to Jacob, he found that his head was pounding. He put a hand to his temple, where he had been struck. His mouth had gone dry. He blinked stars away from his eyes. He said, “Hours? How long has it been?”

  “It’s about five in the evening, I should reckon. Seamus clocked you good. You went out like a light.”

  Jacob found that he had a definitive memory of being punched, yet not of hitting the floor. He tried to grasp at what had happened after he had been hit, yet there was only a black emptiness in his mind where those events should have been. He said, “It sure feels like somebody walloped on me pretty good.”

  Rachel put a cold compress on his forehead. She stroked his cheek and said, “My mother once told me that a man who is willing to stand up for what is right is one in one thousand.”

  Jacob tried to gather his thoughts as best he could. He said, “You have a wise mother. Is she in Ireland?”

  Rachel’s voice became quiet. The change only brought out her accent that much more. She said, “Nay, she’s in New York. She came over a few years ago, when your President Grant started talking about building America once again. It sounds ridiculous, perhaps, yet to an outsider like me, it seemed as though he was finally willing to put the senseless bloodshed of the civil war behind him.”

  Jacob choked back an indignant reply. Though he had himself not taken part in the civil war, he had ardently hoped for a southern victory. Even while he abhorred slavery, he abhorred even further how people forgot that the several states had once been independent countries. Each state had its own president, its own congress. He had been disappointed when the north had won. That, more than anything else, had caused him to move west. He no longer believed in Washington’s power to protect its citizens, if that power had ever existed in the first place.

  He said, “Whatever caused you to move out to Kansas?”

  “People back east, they have a fever to move out west. Maybe it’s a fever to grab whatever bit of freedom they can. Some come looking for money, I expect. Others come looking for peace of mind. Or maybe a job that isn’t in a factory. I talked about that with mother quite a bit before I left. She said that she moved from Ireland to escape the famines. She told me if I ever got a chance to move to someplace better than where I was, I should take it.”

  “But she didn’t come along?”

  “That she did not. My father didn’t want to move. In fact, he insisted that I stay. I snuck away on a train headed west against his will. I suppose one of these days, I’ll send him a letter. Once I get settled, that is.”

  Jacob wasn’t sure whether he wanted to ask about Seamus. He decided that, since the man had punched him, that he ought to find out what he could. He said, “And your fiancé? What does he have to do with all of this?”

 
; “Oh, Seamus I met on the train out of New York. He and I hit it off quickly. He tries to be a good man. He really does. But he lets his passion get the better of him. He doesn’t have a filter on his emotions, do you see? When he loves someone, he loves them with all his heart. When he is angry with someone, he is angry to the point of deadly violence. I would have stayed with him, had he not gone sleeping around with every skirt he could find. It hurts when a man is disloyal like that. You give them all your faith and trust, only to have it repaid with betrayal. So I left him.

  “Now I know what you’re going to ask next, Mr. Renmyer. You’ve a right to ask it, seeing as how Seamus thumped you good. He found the newspaper ad that I had circled. He asked me about it. I told him then that I was going to become a mail-order bride. After all, he was my fiancé, but he had never given me a ring. I had never signed any document binding myself to him, nor made a pledge in front of witnesses. He had asked me to marry when we reached Kansas, and like the fool girl that I was, I said yes. But we never did marry, you see. I never trusted him enough for that to happen.”

  Jacob said, “But you trust me?”

  “You’ve already proven yourself trustworthy, Mr. Renmyer-”

  “Call me Jacob.”

  “Jacob it is then. A man proves himself not by his words, but by his actions. You’ve given me no reason to think of you as anything less than a gentleman.”

  Jacob studied her face. He had no idea what she was thinking. Women were a mystery to him. Even if a book was printed explaining in detail why women behaved the way they did, he was sure that he would not be able to make heads or tails of it. He said, “And does it usually happen that you hitch up with the first man you meet?”

  “Only if I think he’s worth my time. I’m not picky, Jacob. You must understand that. A woman like me might wait her whole life for the right man to come along, and miss the opportunities that are presented to her. When you have to act, you should act. There’s no two ways about that. Life isn’t kind enough to help out anyone who misses their chance.”