Laura’s features turned from blank to surprise. “What kind of stipulation?”
Matt took his time and drank from his cup. His eyes searched Laura’s. He lowered the cup and said, “You are not to tell anyone who Hope’s mother is.”
She sighed. “Not even her grandparents?”
Clint blurted, “You know who her grandparents are?”
Laura nodded. “Yes, Priscilla and I spoke earlier today.” She turned her attention to the sheriff. “Did she mention that Hope’s father is still alive?”
He rubbed his chin. “No.”
Clint frowned. “I wonder where he is. And why hasn’t he come for Hope and her mother?”
Laura sighed. “According to Priscilla, Jerry abandoned her and the baby. She said he wanted to blackmail Priscilla’s parents. When she refused to help him, he up and left her.”
“I wish she’d told me all that,” the sheriff said, setting his cup down. He reached into his pocket and handed Laura a piece of paper.
Clint watched her expression as she unfolded and read it. Once again, she gave nothing away of how she was feeling. She refolded it.
“This is wonderful, Matt, but will it hold up in court, if Hope’s father comes to claim her?” Laura unfolded then realized what she’d done and refolded the paper. She then slipped it into her apron pocket.
“I’ll ask the judge when he arrives. You might have to come in and talk to him, but I don’t believe he’ll take Hope from you as long as you have that.” He indicated the note in her pocket.
Clint cleared his throat to remind them he was still there. Getting their attention, he asked, “Would it help if Priscilla talked to the judge?”
“I’m not sure she will. When Priscilla left my office, she was pretty shaken up, and she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s given up her child. Especially her parents, and since her father’s the town banker, he’d know if she went to talk to the judge. Our town is small.” He looked at Clint. “You knew she’d been to see me.”
It was true. Not much got past folks in town. How many others knew she’d been to see the sheriff? And now that he knew that Priscilla was the banker’s daughter, Clint knew the gossips would be all over this story, if they figured out she’d had a child and given it away.
The sheriff continued. “It might help if Laura was married and legally adopted Hope.” He looked from Clint to Laura. “I guess that would be a question for a lawyer or the judge.” When neither Clint nor Laura commented, he set his cup down. “Well, it’s time for me to get back to town. Thanks for the coffee and cookies, Laura.”
Clint moved aside and let Matt pass. “Thanks for coming out, Matt.”
Laura looked up. “Yes, thanks.” She stood to go back into the house.
“Laura, would you wait here for me? I’ll see Matt off and be right back.” Clint searched her face, but still couldn’t read her thoughts.
She eased back on to the rocker. “All right, but hurry. I’m not sure how much longer Camelia will watch the girls.”
That explained where the children were. He nodded and hurried off after Matt. Catching up with the sheriff as he unwound the reins from the hitching post, Clint asked, “Will it really help her keep Hope if she is married?”
Matt turned and looked at him. “Honestly, I’m not sure, but I do believe the judge will lean more toward letting her keep Hope if she is.”
“But there is a chance?”
“Since Hope’s father abandoned Hope and her mother, I’d say yes. He’s more likely to let her stay with a couple who love her, than to give her to a man who doesn’t.” He swung into the saddle. A grin touched his lips. “And here I thought you weren’t going to remarry.”
Clint watched him ride away before he could respond. His gaze moved to Laura, who sat on the porch, reading the note in her hands. Would he marry her so that she could keep Hope? He cared about them both, and life on the ranch wouldn’t be the same without them. He straightened his shoulders. He would, but in name only.
Chapter Thirteen
Laura studied Priscilla’s signature on the paper. Would it be enough for her to hang on to Hope? She glanced up as Clint returned to the porch. His face was set as if he were going to a hanging.
She’d learned from her late husband, Charles, that when a man looked like that, it was best to wait him out and let him speak first. In her experience, whatever came out of his mouth wouldn’t be pleasant. Was he going to ask her to leave, now that he was aware that Hope’s father could show up?
Clint’s boots sounded like thunder to her ears as he climbed the porch steps once more. He sat down in the rocker beside her and sighed. He took his hat off and crushed the brim in his hands. “Laura, I’ve been thinking, and if you think it will help you to keep Hope, I’ll marry you.”
Shocked, Laura stared at him in muted silence. He proposed even worse than Charles had. Charles had fumbled over the words like a schoolboy. Clint simply blurted out what he thought was his duty.
“Well?”
Laura opened her mouth and then shut it again. She couldn’t just marry him for Hope’s sake. Could she?
She shook her head in answer to her own silent question.
“Before you say no, think about it. You might be able to keep Hope. But—” He stopped.
She looked at him. What was the but about? Was he going to say, “But I expect you to quit your teaching job?” Laura wasn’t sure she was ready to quit teaching. When he didn’t finish she prompted, “But what?”
He inhaled deeply and released the air as if saying the next few words took more out of him than a mule’s kick. “But it would be a marriage in name only.”
Laura understood his guilt at losing his wife, but she thought, in time and when the right woman came along, he’d heal and want a real marriage. “I can’t marry you, Clint. I’ve my own reasons for not wanting to remarry. Besides, we aren’t sure the judge won’t let me keep Hope.” She stood. The relief on his face told Laura she’d answered correctly.
He reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m willing to help you keep her any way I can.”
She looked deeply into his eyes and saw the truth of his words. Clint Shepard was a good man, but if she were to marry him and he found out her secret, he might become bitter toward her and she couldn’t live with that again. “Thank you, Clint. I appreciate your willingness to marry me, but I’m going to trust in the Lord to see this through.”
Clint nodded and stood. “Then I’ll get back to work.” He left the porch without a backwards glance in her direction.
She silently prayed that the Lord would see fit to work everything out for Hope and her. Laura couldn’t imagine giving the little girl up now. She loved her.
Laura entered the house and walked to her temporary room. The sound of the girls playing in the kitchen hurried her steps. She tucked the note in a small box on her writing table. Maybe it was enough to hang on to Hope. Her gaze moved out the window.
Clint stood beside the barn, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Was he thinking about his narrow escape from marriage? Laura almost wished she could marry him.
He had a nice home, land and a precious child that she already loved. In the month that she’d been here, he’d never raised his voice or his hand to anyone who lived in his home.
She studied his profile. He was a handsome man with wide shoulders, narrow hips and long legs. But it was his eyes that drew her like a kitten to yarn. The gentle way he spoke and the teasing manner he had with the girls only added to the attraction she felt toward him. Laura sighed. If only things were different. If only she weren’t barren. But she was, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Except the Lord God Himself. She’d once begged Him to let her have children, but He’d been silent and she’d remained childless. Laura fought her old enemy, bitterness, before returning to the kitchen to relieve
Camelia.
* * *
Was this woman for real? It had been a week since Clint had placed his advertisement, and Mrs. Eunice Green was the result.
Laura watched as she spat tobacco juice on to the clean porch floor. Her gaze moved to Camelia, who cringed at the rudeness of the woman. If this was the type of character that Clint’s advertisement brought out to the ranch, Laura thought she might offer to move Grace to town with her and Hope.
“I think I can take care of the little mite. I’ve been takin’ care of kids for over forty years. This one can’t be much worse than any of those.” She spat again, barely missing Laura’s skirt hem. “When will the mister be in? I’d like to talk to him. You ladies seem a mite squeamish to me.”
Camelia stood. “There’s no need for you to stay and wait for him. I’ve decided that you are not suitable to watch our Grace.”
The woman pushed out of the rocker so fast it hit the wall behind them. She placed both hands on her hips and scowled down at Camelia. The fabric of her dirty trousers pulled tightly against her oversized belly. “Not suitable?”
Laura stepped up beside Camelia, silently offering her support of agreement. “Yes, ma’am. What I think Camelia is trying to say is that we don’t want Grace learning that it’s appropriate for a lady to dress and spit like a man.” It wasn’t the pants that bothered her as much as the spitting. After all, she’d worn Clint’s pants when they’d gone out riding with the girls.
The woman made a huffing noise. “And I suppose you don’t want me teaching her how to shoot a gun, neither.” She shook her head as if the two women in front of her were daft.
Camelia made a gasping noise.
Laura decided she’d best be the one who answered again. Camelia looked as if she were ready to shove the woman off the porch. “No, if her pa wants her to learn to shoot a gun, I’m sure he’ll teach her.” She held her breath, waiting to see if Mrs. Green was going to leave or if they were going to have to call Richard from the barn to escort her off the ranch.
“Well, I reckon it’s best her pa teach her that.” Mrs. Green agreed. She walked off the porch, spat on the ground and remounted her horse like a man. “It’s probably for the best. I’m getting too old to be chasing a kid around.”
In a way, Laura envied Mrs. Green’s spunk. But she wasn’t ready to dress and act like a man every day. The other woman probably thought there were a lot of benefits to her style of life, and Laura figured there were, but again, she’d continue to be a lady. Her dresses fit her nicely, and even the thought of chewing tobacco turned her stomach.
“You ladies have a nice day.” Mrs. Green turned the horse and rode from the ranch.
Laura smiled at her. “You, too, Mrs. Green. I hope you find suitable employment soon.” She waved as the woman spun her horse about and galloped from the ranch.
The sound of the screen door shutting behind her drew Laura’s attention. She prayed the girls weren’t awakened from their nap by the sound. A few seconds later Camelia returned with a mop and bucket in hand.
“If that’s the kind of women who respond to his nanny advertisement, I’m not sure if I can handle this. Did you see the way she was dressed? And that nasty habit of chewing. What woman in her right mind would take up such a habit?” She slapped the mop over the first dirty spot.
Laura sat down in one of the rockers and waited for Camelia to settle down. She knew there was no way she’d be able to answer the other woman’s questions. Using the heel of her boot, Laura set the rocker into motion.
Camelia mopped at the brown splatters on the porch. She rinsed the mop several times in the water. “Disgusting, that’s what this is. I’m tempted to go find Clint Shepard and give him a piece of my mind.”
It was all Laura could do not to laugh. Yes, Mrs. Green had been different, but to give Clint a piece of her mind, well, that sort of made Camelia odd, too. Why was Camelia so upset? So, Mrs. Green wasn’t the nanny for Grace. Another woman might be just perfect.
“What do you think Clint is going to say when we tell him his first nanny arrived today and we sent her packing?” Laura felt a light breeze cool her brow.
Camelia picked up the bucket and started off the porch. “He said I could decide and I did.” She walked to the side of the house mumbling, “I hope this ’bacca juice don’t kill my wee plants.”
Laura laughed. She rocked in the chair for a few moments longer and then got up. Grace’s quilt still needed the binding sewn on. Binding was Laura’s least favorite part of the process of quilting.
Camelia stomped back around the house. She marched up the porch steps and looked at Laura. “That woman just curdled my cabbage.”
The expression struck Laura as funny, and she smiled to keep back the belly laugh she felt bubbling up. “I can see that.”
“Imagine spitting like a man when seeking employment to watch a little girl.” She plopped down in the other rocker. “Grace would be spitting in no time.” Camelia shuddered. “So unladylike.”
The countenance on the Irishwoman’s face and the way she spoke with a heavy accent was simply too much. Laura couldn’t control it. She howled with laughter. Bending over at the waist, she let her merriment explode.
Camelia looked at her like she’d grown two heads, causing Laura to laugh even harder. Tears of joy spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks. She could just picture little Grace spitting like a cat as she walked about the house. The image kept her laughing.
A giggle sounded beside her. “I guess I did get a little carried away.”
Laura couldn’t help it, she laughed more. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from the merriment. “I can just picture our little Grace spitting and trying to keep her drawers up while Clint watched. Can you imagine his face?”
Camelia joined in her merry laughter. “He’d have a fit!”
That calmed Laura. She’d never seen Clint have a fit. Did he get angry and become violent? She shuddered.
“What’s wrong, child?” Camelia had stopped laughing also.
Laura looked to her. “Has Clint ever lost his temper?”
The other woman shook her red head. “Not that I’ve ever seen. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, when you said he’d have a fit, I assumed you meant he’d lose his temper and yell.” Laura stood up. Embarrassment washed over her.
Camelia followed her inside the house. “Oh, no, it was just an expression. In all my years of working for him, he’s never even raised his voice.”
“Not even at his wife?” Laura moved to her sewing basket and pulled out her needle and thread.
“No. I’m sure he wasn’t pleased with her all the time, but he never became angry enough to yell at her.” Camelia walked into the kitchen.
Laura sat down and sighed. Clint seemed almost too perfect. He didn’t yell, didn’t get angry, and as far as she knew, he’d never raised a hand to Grace. She’d thought about marriage to him a lot over the past week but knew she couldn’t marry Clint. Still, he seemed like the perfect man for the job. Would he understand if she told him she couldn’t have children?
She pushed such foolish thoughts aside. Laura had turned his marriage proposal down. How foolish she would look if she went to him and said, “I’ve changed my mind. I will marry you, but I can never have children. Are you all right with that?”
He might say yes, but deep down she’d know it wasn’t true. Clint had Grace, but what man didn’t want a little boy to carry on the family name? As far as she knew, none.
It was best that she help Camelia find another nanny so that she and Hope could move back to town. Sadness enveloped her like a heavy fog. When the right nanny did arrive, she and Hope would be leaving the Shepard ranch.
Her gaze moved out past the barn and toward one of the many ranch pastures. Where was Clint now? Was he cutting cows for branding? Or plowing a field someplace? She missed him and c
ould only imagine what her life would be like without him and Grace in it.
Chapter Fourteen
Clint entered the kitchen door where he stopped and pulled off his muddy boots. The house was quiet. He assumed everyone was in bed.
The coffeepot and a covered plate sat on the back of the stove. He walked toward it, hoping it was still warm. His gaze took in the clean kitchen. Camelia worked hard to keep the house in tip-top shape.
His thoughts moved from there to what would have happened if Laura had agreed to marry him last week. Would Camelia have stayed as the housekeeper or moved on? Not that it mattered now. Laura had turned him down. At the time, he’d been relieved, but for some reason, he couldn’t seem to get Laura off his mind.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, Laura appeared in the doorway. She wore a long housecoat. Her hair was braided and hung over one shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She started to back out of the kitchen.
“Laura, you are not disturbing me.” He watched her turn slowly around.
“Are you sure?” She played with the tip of her braid.
Clint tore his gaze from her and carried the covered plate to the table. “I’m sure. It will be nice to have company while I eat my supper.”
She smiled. “You don’t like to eat alone?”
Clint returned to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. “Not really. Would you like a cup?”
Laura nodded. She walked to the cookie bin and pulled out two. “Yes, please.” Then she returned to the table and waited for him to hand her one of the coffee mugs.
He sat down, bowed his head and said a silent prayer over the meal. When he looked up, Clint asked, “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No, I kept thinking of Mrs. Green. She answered your nanny ad.” A sweet smile parted her lips.
Clint uncovered the plate and discovered roast, baby potatoes and carrots. A large biscuit sat in the center. He reached into the crock that sat in the center of the table and pulled out a fork and knife. “Was she nice?”
Baby On Her Doorstep Page 10
