Baby On Her Doorstep

by Rhonda Gibson

  “What happened to your wife?” Laura looked at him through lowered lashes. Did she fear he wouldn’t answer her?

  Clint looked toward the house. He cleared his throat and then answered, “Shortly after she gave birth to Gracie, she caught an infection.”

  “I’m surprised the doctor didn’t catch that in time.” Laura’s brow was knitted as she looked at him fully now.

  What would she think of him, once she learned he hadn’t taken the time to get Martha to the doctor? Would she be disappointed in him? Blame him for Martha’s death?

  Chapter Ten

  When he didn’t answer her immediately, Laura’s frown deepened. “Don’t tell me you blame yourself?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Confusion fought its way to the surface of her emotions. “Don’t I what?”

  “Blame me for Martha’s death?”

  Laura shook her head. “No, why would I? Things like that happen all the time after a woman gives birth.”

  “Maybe, but if I had gotten her to the doctor sooner, she might have lived.” He looked back at his horse, avoiding her eyes.

  She stopped. “She might not have, either.” Laura sighed and prayed Clint wouldn’t take her words the wrong way. She placed her hand on his arm. “Clint, God decides when it is time for us to leave this world. We are not in control of such things. Your Martha would have died, whether you had gotten her to the doctor or not. So please, if you are blaming yourself, don’t.”

  He looked deeply into her eyes. Laura saw the hurt and loss in his. Clint reached up and touched her cheek. “Thank you, but I can’t blame God for her loss, either.”

  “No, and you shouldn’t blame Him. God knows so much more than we do. Worse things could have happened to your wife. Maybe He was saving her from something far worse.” Laura removed her hand from his arm and stepped away from his touch.

  Clint nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” His gaze moved to the house. “Looks like you are back. I’ll see you later.” He mounted his horse and gave her a sad grin before turning the horse and trotting off across the pasture.

  Laura watched him sway in the saddle until he was no longer in sight. She felt sad for him. It was obvious that he loved his wife very much. Would she have felt differently if Charles had loved her as much?

  Taking her mind off Charles, Clint and Martha, Laura returned to the house. She stopped by the garden where Camelia still toiled. “I’m back.”

  Camelia leaned on her heels and looked up at her. “I’ve about got these wee plants in the ground.” Satisfaction at a job well done shone on her face.

  Laura knew she’d not get to sample any of Camelia’s vegetables. She’d be back in town when the garden would finally be ready for harvest. “They look wonderful.” Sadness entered her heart at the knowledge that she wouldn’t be staying on at the ranch.

  Camelia pushed up from the ground. “I should go check on my bean pot.” Her gaze moved to the newly planted seedlings.

  “I’ll check on them, if you like. I’m headed back into the house anyway.” Laura wondered if Camelia would let her, or if she would insist on doing it herself.

  “If it isn’t any bother...”

  Laura didn’t give her the chance to finish. She spun toward the kitchen door. “No bother at all.” Laura grinned as she entered the house.

  Once the beans were stirred and more water added, Laura returned to the bedroom where the girls still napped. She pulled the chest from under the bed once more. Now that she knew for certain that the dresses had belonged to Clint’s wife and Grace’s mother, she studied the material more closely.

  Martha Shepard had good taste in fabric. The material felt sturdy yet delicate in Laura’s hands. Thankfully, Martha also enjoyed a variety of colors. The dresses had been store-bought and still had pretty buttons down the fronts. Laura’s mind raced with ideas of how to mix and match the colors, creating a nine-patch quilt that Grace could keep forever.

  She decided the fabric would need a good washing. Once again she checked on the little girls. Grace stirred in her slumber but continued sleeping.

  Laura knew she didn’t have much time. Maybe a quick rinse in cold water would be enough to get the stored, musty scent out of the clothes. She gathered the clothes up in her arms and started toward the door.

  A sleepy voice whispered. “Warwa?”

  She turned to find Grace sitting on the edge of her small bed. Her light brown hair stood straight up with static electricity. Laura grinned at the child. She placed a finger over her lips and motioned for Grace to follow her.

  When they got to the hallway and closed the bedroom door behind them, Grace asked, “Waaaaahhhh rrrrrr ooooo ddddddd, Warwa?”

  Laura held out the clothes for her to look at. She assumed the child meant, “What are you doing, Laura?” She answered, “I’m going to rinse these out and hang them on the clothesline to dry. Want to help?”

  Grace took a sniff and shook her head. “Ick.”

  She laughed. “I know, they smell musty now, but maybe we can get the stench out with a little water.”

  Camelia came out of the bedroom across the hall. “It’s going to take more than just a little water to get that smell out.”

  Laura sighed. She’d really wanted to simply rinse them out, not do a full wash. “What did you have in mind?” She prayed it was something other than pulling out the washtub and filling it with hot water and lye.

  “Putting them in a tub of water with vinegar and lavender oil. That should cut the smell and add a soft fragrance you can stand.” Camelia carried the sheets she’d just taken from her bed toward the kitchen.

  Grace toddled after Camelia. Laura followed, glad that she wouldn’t need to break out the large tub for clothes washing.

  Camelia led them to the kitchen where she pulled out a small washtub. She dropped her sheets to the floor and smiled at Laura. “Go ahead and toss those in, I’ll get one of the men to bring in the water from the well.” She walked out the kitchen door and toward the small bunkhouse beside the barn.

  Laura returned her grin. She did as told and then helped Grace up to the table. “How about we have an afternoon snack?”

  Grace babbled happily.

  “Good.” She buttered a slice of bread and handed it to Grace. “Here, I’m going to go get Miss Hope up. She wouldn’t want to miss snack time.”

  The little girl smiled around with butter-coated lips.

  Laura hurried to the bedroom. Hope still rested, curled up on her side, sucking her index finger. She grinned at the sweet face surrounded by blond curls.

  One little blue eye opened, then Hope grinned around her finger. She raised her arms, silently asking Laura to pick her up.

  “Did you sleep well, little one?” Laura scooped her up and carried her from the room.

  Hope nodded. She shifted until her little head could rest on Laura’s shoulder. The finger retreated between her lips once more.

  “Good. Grace is having a snack in the kitchen. Would you like a snack, too?”

  Again Hope nodded.

  Laura longed for the day when the child would open her lips and speak. She didn’t press the issue because Hope had been through enough already, and even if she never talked, Laura knew she’d love the girl forever.

  Worry ate at her. Even though the sheriff had said she could keep Hope, what would the judge say when he returned to town? Would she be allowed to keep the child then?

  * * *

  As he drew near the house, Clint noticed movement to his left. He squinted his eyes to see better against the glare of the sun. From his vantage point it looked as if Laura and the girls were playing in the pasture.

  Clint turned the horse to see what they were doing. He heard giggles and laughter as he approached. Stopping a few feet away, he could see that the girls had gathered wildflowers, and
Laura was making flower wreaths for their little heads.

  Grace saw him and squealed. She ran on her short legs to where he was dismounting from his horse. Her babbles were filled with joy.

  He scooped her up and swung her around. His gaze landed on Hope, who stood a few feet away. Clint hugged Grace. “Are you being a good girl today, Gracie?”

  She bobbed her little head and then began pushing away from him.

  Hope watched with a little crown of flowers in her hair. She smiled sweetly up at him.

  Clint grabbed her up and swung her around, as well. He laughed at her sweet giggle, then put her back on to the ground beside Grace.

  Laura stood off to the side watching them. He was tempted to grab her around the waist and swing her around, too but something told him the prim and proper schoolteacher would not approve of such behavior. “Hello, Laura.”

  She placed the wreath of flowers on Grace’s head. “Hello. The girls and I were about to have a picnic lunch. Would you like to join us?”

  His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. “Do you have enough food?”

  “Yes, I packed enough bread, meat, cheese, apples and cookies to feed a small army.” She led the way back to a blanket spread on the ground under one of the many oak trees. “But if you’d rather have leftover ham and beans from last night, I’m sure Camelia will be happy to dish you up a batch.”

  Clint laughed. “No, I think I’ll go with a lighter meal.”

  He eased down on to her picnic blanket and sighed.

  “Girls! Come over here and play with your dolls.” Laura pulled bread, cheese and ham from the basket and began to make sandwiches. “Rough morning?”

  He watched the way her hands speedily and efficiently created a large sandwich for himself and three half-sandwiches for herself and the girls. “It wasn’t too bad. Just hot and sweaty.”

  “That’s what Papa used to say.” She handed him the sandwich and then looked to the little girls who were trying to sneak cookies out of the basket. “No, ladies. You don’t get cookies until after you finish all your sandwich and a slice of apple each.” They plopped down on their bottoms and reached for the half-sandwiches.

  Clint laughed. Those two were a mess together. He’d noticed that they liked to be sneaky. It was a good thing Laura knew how to handle children. He took a large bite from his sandwich and chewed as he watched Laura interact with the children.

  His heart seemed to melt a little at her motherly ways. He wondered why she hadn’t remarried and had children of her own. She was pretty and good with kids. She should be married and have a whole houseful of children.

  Grace played with the flowers on her head and giggled at Hope. His little girl needed a mother to guide her and other children around to play with. What was going to happen when Laura and Hope left? Would Grace be lonely? Sad? Probably both. The bread turned to dust in his mouth, and he set the sandwich aside.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Here.” Laura handed him a mason jar filled with milk. His gaze moved to the girls, who each had a smaller jar of milk beside them. Clint assumed Laura had only packed one more jar of milk, and it was for her.

  He stood and smiled. “Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll drink the water from my canteen. I’m not much for drinking milk at lunch.” He turned and looked down at her. “Unless you have a nice cake in that basket. Then I’ll drink the milk.”

  The little girls’ heads popped up at the word cake. They reminded him of prairie dogs. Their mouths turned down when Laura shook her head no.

  “Not today, but if you’ll tell me what kind you like, I’ll see if Camelia will let me bake you one.” Laura handed each of the girls an apple slice.

  Clint walked to his horse and got the canteen. “In that case, I’ll just drink water.” He wasn’t really much of a cake eater and had been teasing with her. Truth be told, of all the cakes he’d eaten, a simple white cake was his favorite. He returned to the blanket. “I prefer peach cobbler, but if I must eat cake, let’s make it a white one.”

  Laura laughed. “I like peach cobbler, too. Maybe when the peach trees ripen, I’ll bake you a cobbler.” She nibbled at the crust of her half-sandwich. “Maybe by then, Camelia will let me bake and cook.”

  Clint frowned. “She still won’t let you bake or cook?”

  She unscrewed the lid of the milk jar and sipped at the creamy beverage. A white line coated her top lip. “No, but I understand. She’s been the woman of the house for so long that she doesn’t like anyone else in her kitchen.”

  Maybe Laura understood, but he didn’t. First thing this evening, he’d have a talk with the little Irishwoman.

  As if reading his thoughts, Laura said, “I wouldn’t interfere if I were you, Clint. She’s a little older than I am, and I have to respect her boundaries and wishes.”

  He shook his head. “Have you always been this—?” Unsure of where he was going with that line of questioning, he stopped.

  “Considerate of others? Respectful to those older than myself?” She grinned across at him, obviously enjoying his discomfort.

  “Yes and yes.” He answered with a wink.

  She lowered her head. Pink colored her cheeks. “Yes. I believe so.”

  Grace interrupted them. “Cookie?”

  Hope nodded happily around a mouthful of apple.

  Laura reached into the basket and pulled out two cookies. She handed them to the girls. Grace broke hers in two and grinned before eating one half. Hope simply chewed on the apple still in her mouth.

  Clint smiled. Laura and the girls were becoming more and more important to him. Was this normal? Was it because they all lived in the same house? Or was he starting to like the idea of them becoming a family more than he cared to think? He sure didn’t like that line of thinking.

  Chapter Eleven

  Laura sensed more than saw his mood swing. He’d gone from a teasing, sweet man to a serious one. She searched his face, waiting to hear whatever it was that had changed his temperament.

  “Laura, would you and the girls like to go to town with me tomorrow?”

  It had been about two weeks since their last trip to town, and she would love to go to the general store for more thread. But had he just decided to go? Or had he been planning to ask her since the moment he’d arrived at their picnic? “Why are you going?” she asked, knowing full well it wasn’t any of her business.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking.” He took a deep breath and blurted, “It’s time I place an ad in the paper for a new nanny. You’ll be wanting to return to town soon. Who knows how long it will take to replace you.”

  His words, “replace you,” hit her hard. She’d enjoyed being on the ranch, she and Camelia were becoming good friends, and she loved Grace dearly. How had a month passed so quickly? And how had she allowed herself to get so comfortable here? She looked across at him. “Yes, you’re right. It’s time.”

  Both girls sat quietly watching them and eating their cookies. How much did they understand of the adult conversation?

  Laura began gathering their picnic scraps and placing them in the basket.

  “Then I will see you at supper. I’d best get back to work.” He walked over to his horse and mounted. “Thanks for lunch.”

  Laura nodded, afraid to speak. She hadn’t realized how comfortable she’d gotten on the ranch. Her gaze moved to Grace, who waved goodbye to her daddy.

  It wasn’t until she heard his horse galloping back across the pasture that Laura was able to look in his direction. Clint’s shoulders swayed in the saddle as he rode. She knew, without thinking too hard on it, that she would miss Clint and his sweet daughter.

  * * *

  Laura climbed down from the wagon. The trip into town had been quiet. Clint seemed to want to keep to his own thoughts, the girls were both tired from a restless night, and Laura just felt sad. “The girl
s and I will walk to the general store,” she told Clint as he released her waist.

  “I’ll be at the newspaper office, if you need me.” He set Grace on the ground beside Laura and then gently lifted a sleeping Hope out of the wagon.

  He looked into the baby’s face and smiled. “I’d keep her with me, but I’m afraid she might wake up and want you.” Clint passed Hope over to Laura.

  She rested the little girl against her shoulder and then took Grace’s hand in her own. “We’ll be fine. She’s used to sleeping like this.”

  Clint nodded. He knelt in front of Grace. “You be good for Laura and don’t wake up Hope.”

  “Awwhite.” Grace squeezed Laura’s hand and leaned against her skirt.

  “Good girl.” He stood. “I’ll meet you at the store.”

  Laura smiled. “All right.” She turned and walked up the block and then started down Main Street.

  Town seemed quiet this morning. Most people were probably home. Now that summer had arrived, folks tended to stay home in the mornings and do their chores before it got too hot.

  Laura felt a stillness in the air that troubled her. Usually when she felt like this, it meant one of the boy students in her classroom had done something that would or could cause her class to erupt at any moment. It was almost as if she were being followed or watched closely. She turned her head and looked behind them. Seeing no one, Laura decided to hurry Grace along.

  As soon as she arrived at the general store, Laura breathed a sigh of relief. She pushed the door open and hurried inside. The scents of leather and spices filled her nostrils. Laura hurried to the fabric table and turned to face the door. If someone was following her, she felt sure they’d come inside.

  “Can I help you find anything, Mrs. Lee?”

  She glanced at the storekeeper. “No, thanks. I’m just looking at the thread.”

  “It’s behind you dear, on the wall.”

  The bell over the door jingled. Laura turned to see Priscilla Maxwell, the banker’s only daughter, enter the store. Flabbergasted, Laura stared at the young woman. She’d moved to Denver, Colorado two years earlier in pursuit of an art degree. Surely she hadn’t been the one following them.