Wedded for the Baby

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Wedded for the Baby Page 10

by Dorothy Clark


  “May I help you, Lieutenant?”

  The cavalryman glanced toward a couple who had followed him into the shop and lowered his voice. “Do you have any Dr. Beach’s Pile remedy?”

  Trace nodded, pulled a tin off the shelf and held it out so the lieutenant could see the label: Dr. Beach’s Pile Electuary—for hemorrhoids and piles—an internal and international medicine. “Is this what you are wanting?”

  The lieutenant looked at the woman approaching the counter and his face flushed. “I’ll take two of them. And some of his Black Salve, too.”

  He placed the items in a paper bag and slid it across the counter. “That will be eighty-seven cents, Lieutenant.” He accepted the coins and turned to the couple. The man was coughing. The woman was dabbing at her nose with a handkerchief. Her face was flushed, her eyes glassy. His fingers twitched to feel her forehead and confirm his suspicion that she had a fever.

  “My wife and I are both feeling poorly, sir. We seem to have succumbed to the colds that are spreading around back home in Chicago. Have you any medications that might help us regain our health?”

  “I have several that might help you.” He pulled bottles off the shelves behind him and set them on the counter as he called out the names. “There is Blandiff’s Vegetable Antidote for Ague... Armistead’s Ague Tonic... Dr. Swett’s Health Restorative...”

  The man frowned. “I don’t think those are necessary for a cold, sir. I would like to see a remedy for a cough.”

  “Very well.” He turned to select several cold and cough tonics from his inventory, but his suspicion wouldn’t let him remain silent. “However, I must say, sir, that in my opinion, your wife’s illness is more than a cold. She appears to have a fever.”

  “I told you I felt overly warm, William.” The woman picked up the octagon-shaped, aqua glass bottle. “Is this vegetable antidote good?”

  “I have had good reports of it, madam, but I have not had occasion to use it personally.”

  The man coughed, cleared his throat. “All right, Marie. If you feel the need for it, we’ll take a bottle of that. And one of this cough remedy. And I’ll have two dozen of the Smith Brothers cough candies.”

  “Very good, sir.” He put the bottles in a paper bag, filled two Smith Brothers envelopes with the drops from the glass jar and tucked them in beside it. “Will there be anything else?”

  “Have you any Dr. Tobey’s Headache Pills?”

  He glanced at the woman. “I do, madam. But as you say you have a fever, if I may—” he pulled a box of his own pills from off the shelf and set it on the counter “—these pills are formulated to reduce fever and ease the head pain caused by it.”

  The woman opened the box and peered inside, took a sniff. “I believe I smell mint. What are the pills made of?”

  “They are a scientific blend of feverfew, willow bark, peppermint and—”

  “I’ll take them.”

  “A wise choice.” He put the box in the bag. “You’ll find the pills work better and your illness will improve faster if you drink a lot of water. Adding a spoonful of apple-cider vinegar to the water will make it work even better.” He made change for the five-dollar bill the man handed him. “It will also help your illness to eat a lot of good strengthening soup—chicken soup is the most beneficial.”

  “Thank you for your helpful advice. Have you any apple-cider vinegar?”

  The double blast of the train whistle echoed through the shop, muted but clear.

  “There’s no time to buy it now, Marie. We have to get back to the train.” The man escorted his wife out the door.

  Trace frowned and watched the couple walking back to the station amid a sea of blue cavalry uniforms. For the last few days, almost every train from the east brought people to his shop seeking medicinal help for colds. But that woman had more than a cold...

  Chapter Seven

  She’d lost her appetite. Katherine tossed her half-eaten sandwich into the scrap basket and went to stir the soup she was making for the Latherops’ supper. It was easier not to hear the low murmur of voices coming from Blake and Audrey’s bedroom if she stayed at the far end of the kitchen. She had cleared Audrey’s bedside table and placed Blake’s dishes there so they could be together while they ate. And though they had graciously asked her to join them for the afternoon meal, she had declined. The way Blake looked at Audrey stirred memories and dreams and longings that were best left buried.

  She hummed softly to further deaden the sound of their voices, laid the spoon on a saucer on the worktable and looked out the window over the coal box. There was the sound of hammering coming from the hotel. She focused her attention on the building. It was attractive, three stories high, with a pagoda at the top. Had Mr. Todd, the man who was in charge of all of the building being done in Whisper Creek, designed it? Or had Mr. Stevenson, the owner? When Trace had introduced her to the two businessmen at church last Sunday, Mr. Stevenson had impressed her as a man who was used to being in charge. Like Trace. No. Not like Trace. She’d never met a man like Trace Warren. He was...unique. And so was his choice of a house.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and thought about the octagonal house to keep from thinking about its owner. The house was beautiful. And very spacious and convenient. She would have to write and tell Judith all about the unusual structure. And include a sketch so that she would believe it. She smiled, imagining her sister’s reply.

  The whistle announcing the arrival of a train bounced off the mountainsides and echoed down the valley. She ran hot water into the dishpan, added the soap and waited to hear Blake hurrying down the stairs to the store. She had already learned his daily routine was centered around the trains’ arrivals and planned her actions accordingly. All she had to do was listen for the whistles. She grabbed a tray and headed for the Latherops’ bedroom to gather their dirty dishes.

  A quick glance told her Blake had removed the extra pillows from behind Audrey as instructed. And that he had kissed her. In spite of her worry over their baby, there was a happy glow in Audrey’s eyes. She squelched a tingle of envy and gathered the dishes onto the tray.

  “Thank you for fixing dinner for us, Katherine. It was very good.”

  “It was also your cooking.” She curved her lips into a smile.

  “Not the pudding. And it was delicious.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. There’s enough left for you to have some with your supper.”

  Howard whimpered. She moved to the bed and looked down at him. He was squirming and kicking his legs beneath his blanket. Her heart squeezed. “He’s getting ready to cry. He’s probably wet, and it’s time for his feeding.” She glanced over at Audrey. “I’ll go heat his bottle and be right back. Don’t try to pick him up!”

  “I won’t. I’ll just talk to him.”

  She hurried to the kitchen, put a bottle in a pan of hot water and washed the dishes while she waited for it to warm. Howard’s whimpers grew louder. He let out a squall. She grabbed the bottle from the water, tested it and hurried back to the bedroom.

  “Shh, shh, little one. I’m right here. Everything is all right. Shh...shh...” She cooed the words as she changed his diaper, taking delight when he calmed at her touch. She cuddled him close, picked up the bottle and went to sit in the rocker to feed him. “Here you are, Howard...” She offered him the bottle. He fastened his little mouth on it and sucked greedily. She smiled, leaned back in the rocker and pushed with her feet to start it moving.

  “You are so good with Howard, Katherine. Anyone would think you are his natural mother.” Audrey’s face flushed. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend you by mentioning your...situation. Trace told us you had taken Howard for your own when his mother died.”

  “I’m not offended, Audrey. I’m flattered by what you said. I’ve had no...previous experience with caring for infan
ts or in being a wife. But I’m learning.” That should cover any mistake. “But I guess every bride—” how odd to call myself that! “—has to learn to be a wife. And every mother, natural or otherwise, has to learn to be comfortable caring for their first baby.”

  “Unless they were born into a household with younger brothers and sisters they helped raise.”

  “True.” She hadn’t thought about Audrey having a family. She glanced toward the bed. “Have you any siblings? Any sisters who will want to come and care for you? I didn’t mean to intrude on your family when I offered.”

  A shadow of sadness slipped across Audrey’s face. Her hands twitched and smoothed a wrinkle from the blanket. “I have one sister. But Linda decided she wanted be an actress in California. I—I haven’t heard from her since she left a few months ago. I don’t know how to reach her.” Audrey’s hands stilled, resting on the blanket. “But she wouldn’t want to come. And she definitely would not want to care for me. Linda’s talents do not extend to mundane things like caring for a house or a sister. She’s very beautiful...”

  “Then beauty runs in your family.”

  “What a kind thing to say!” A smile chased the shadow from Audrey’s face. “What about you, Katherine? Have you any siblings?”

  She nodded and lifted Howard to her shoulder to burp him, the action second nature to her now. “I also have one sister. Judith is married to a soldier stationed at Fort Bridger.” She fussed with one of Howard’s booties, lest she say too much and give away her true situation with Trace Warren.

  “That’s not far from here. A lot of soldiers on their way to the different forts come into the store when the trains stop to take on coal and water. I’ve heard several of them mention that Fort Bridger is their posting.”

  She tensed. Her chest tightened. “Do the soldiers talk about the Indian attacks in that area?”

  “No. The soldiers mostly joke with each other while they shop. But news reaches us from other sources—the train conductors and engineers and railroad workmen. People like that. I heard there were several attacks near Fort Kearny and Fort Reno in October. And also at Crazy Woman Creek. I’m sure we would hear if there were any serious attacks by Indians at Fort Bridger.”

  Her stomach clenched. Judith, are you all right? “What do you mean by serious attacks?”

  “Sometimes the Indians just attack and then ride away rather than engage in a battle. They often do that to wagon trains or the railroad.”

  The railroad! A vision of the railroad station at the end of the short road popped into her head.

  “A serious attack is when someone is wounded or...worse.” Audrey’s gaze fastened on hers. “I’m sorry, Katherine. I hope I haven’t frightened you.”

  “No. I’ve been frightened for my sister and her husband ever since I learned of the Indian attacks in the area. And now, of course, for Howard. And Trace.” She clutched the baby tight against her.

  “I was frightened, too. But Blake says Mr. Ferndale made some sort of private treaty with the Indians and we are safe as long as we stay in the valley.”

  “I see.” Howard burped. She lowered him to her lap and resumed feeding him, struggling to control her trembling. He sucked contentedly while she rocked him. “I’ve written to Judith, telling her of my...arrival in Whisper Creek. Trace posted the letter for me. But where do I go to receive her answering letter?” Please, Lord, let me receive an answer! “I haven’t noticed any post office in Whisper Creek.”

  “We get our mail at the train depot for the present. But we are hoping that will soon change. Blake has petitioned the Postal Department to have the Whisper Creek Post Office here in the store. He will be the postmaster.” Pride glowed in Audrey’s eyes.

  “That will be more convenient than walking to the train station.” And safer.

  “Yes. When Blake receives the appointment, he’s going to have Mr. Todd make a cubicle in the storage room for the safe and sorting table, then cut a window with a shelf in the back wall of the store and fasten rows of boxes beside it. That way Blake will be able to keep all of the mail separate from the store activity. Not that there will be much mail at the start. But Whisper Creek will grow. It already has.” A smile curved Audrey’s lips. “I have you for a friend now.”

  But not for long. Guilt smote her. She set the bottle aside on the table and lifted Howard to her shoulder again to hide her emotions. “How are you feeling since you ate dinner?”

  “I feel fine. In fact, I feel so well that I’m ashamed to be lying here in this bed when I should be up and about doing my own work instead of stealing your time from your husband.”

  “Trace is at his shop. And Ah Key does the cooking and cleaning. Howard is my only responsibility, and he is here with me.” She rose and walked to the bed. “He’s asleep again. I’ll put him here beside you while I go and stir the soup I’ve made for your supper.”

  “It smells wonderful.”

  “Good. How does chocolate cake sound for dessert tomorrow?”

  “Delicious! It’s one of Blake’s favorites. He’ll love you forever.”

  She covered Howard with his blanket and forced a smile. “From the way he looks at you, I’m quite certain that place in Blake’s heart is already occupied.” She moved to the nightstand and picked up the glass sitting there. “I’ll bring you some fresh water. Is there anything else you would like?”

  “No, nothing.”

  She nodded and headed for the kitchen.

  “Katherine?”

  “Yes?” She turned and looked back at Audrey.

  “Trace seemed very sure about my condition and what to do about it yesterday. And I’m very grateful for his help...”

  There was more Audrey wanted to say. She stood in the doorway and waited.

  Audrey plucked at a piece of fuzz on the blanket. “But I feel so well this morning I’m not sure I need to stay in bed. But I don’t want to hurt my baby.” Audrey looked up and fastened her gaze on her. “How does Trace know what I should do?”

  She smiled, relieved that she could answer Audrey’s question honestly. “I asked Trace about that last night. He said he had doctor friends back in New York that used to discuss their cases with him.”

  “Oh, well...that makes sense.”

  “Yes. Is there anything else?”

  Audrey smiled and nodded. “I have a basket of knitting in the sitting room. If you wouldn’t mind bringing it to me, I’ll just lie here and knit soakers and booties for my baby while I watch Howard sleep.”

  “That’s an excellent idea. I’ll be right back with your basket.” She hurried down the hall toward the sitting room, trying not to think about Indians and half-truths and the day she would have to walk away from Howard forever.

  * * *

  Trace held the reins loosely and let the mare pick the path out of the darkness. The circles of light from the side lamps were more comfort than help. The golden beams skimmed along over the ground, shaking and dipping with each lurch of the runabout. Katherine’s shoulder rubbed against his arm with every motion, setting his nerves jangling. At least the baby didn’t cry with the occasional unavoidable jolt. It was easier when he was silent.

  “Audrey wondered about your knowledge of what to do for her condition.”

  He glanced sideways. The light of the lamps was reflected in tiny flashes of gold in Katherine’s violet eyes, shimmered on the fullness of her bottom lip. He jerked his gaze back to the road.

  “I told her what you said to me—about having doctor friends in New York who discussed their cases with you.” She lifted her hand and tugged her collar up around her cheeks. “I hope that was all right.”

  “Yes, of course.” It had to be that way in order to keep his past hidden. But he didn’t like dealing in half-truths.

  “While I was caring for her today, I felt a li
ttle...dishonest in letting her think I would be here to care for her until she is able to be on her feet again. I kept thinking about the plan you are developing in order to replace me.” He watched her smooth a wrinkle from Howard’s blanket, thought of how soft and small her hand felt in his. “How soon might that be?”

  Concern shot through him. If she told Audrey the truth... He glanced her way again, caught her gaze on him and held it. “The truth is, Katherine, I haven’t been able to think of a plan that will work yet. And I think it’s too soon—because of the baby. I know I promised you it wouldn’t be long, but I have to be careful. I don’t want Mr. Ferndale to think I’m trying to trick him and risk him getting angry with me. I’m on very shaky legal ground. And if he takes my shop, I’m left without a means of livelihood. I’ll have no way to provide for the child.”

  “I see.” She snuggled her chin closer to the baby resting against her neck and shoulder. “Then it’s certain I will be here long enough to care for Audrey?”

  Was that her concern? The length of time? He hastened to apologize. “Yes. I’m sorry for the delay, Katherine. But I based my promise on my experience. Finding a woman willing to enter into an in-name-only marriage in exchange for a comfortable home and abundant provision was easy. But now I have the baby to think of. I have to devise a plan that will enable me to be certain the woman I select will treat the baby well.” He felt her stiffen beside him. Her arm tightened around the baby—an instinctive, protective, maternal reaction. Guilt surged. He didn’t want to hurt Katherine, but there was no way he could avoid it. The longer she cared for the baby, the more attached she would become to him. And the baby to her. And the harder it would become for him to maintain his...disinterest. Disinterest, ha! He almost snorted.

  He guided the mare into the carriage way and stared at the house that loomed against the darkness, its windows glowing with welcoming light. The house he had intended to live in alone. And now look at what had happened! “Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!”

 

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