She nodded and changed the subject. “Did you have Mrs. Fallaby look at your injuries again?”
“Not yet. I was over at the mercantile. I’ll start on the shelves soon.”
“Be careful—”
“—you still have infection,” he finished for her. He took a drink of scalding coffee. “If you’re set on worrying, worry about yourself. How are those feet?”
She glanced down at her toes encased in the soft slippers Annabelle Seaton had supplied. The blisters were better—much better now that she could stay off her feet. “They’ll be as good as new in a few days. And you’re the sickest.” She reached to lay the backs of her fingers against his face. “I would wager that you’ve got a fever right now.”
He seemed comfortable with her touch. Embarrassed, she felt her cheeks warm. What was she thinking? He could take care of himself, except that she wanted to take care of him so badly it hurt. But the marshall wouldn’t want that. He was a solitary man; he’d made that clear.
Ruth got up from the table and busied herself at the counter. “Perhaps before we go, we can ask around and see who can take … who would want Rose.” Giving an Indian baby away wouldn’t be easy. There was a lot of prejudice in the world.
“I mentioned that to Annabelle. She said she would ask around. There’s a specific couple who might be interested in taking her,” Dylan informed her.
“Oh,” Ruth said faintly. It’s the right thing, she told herself. The only fair solution for what’s best for Rose.
When the door opened again, ushering in another burst of cold air, they both looked up.
“Well, well, you two look better,” Niles boomed.
After he unwound his bright red muffler, he pulled off his gloves and jammed them into his coat pocket. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a peg.
“It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep and a bath will do for a man,” Dylan said.
“Saw Gert a minute ago. Said for you to come on down and let her look at those arrow wounds again.”
Dylan got up and set his cup in the sink, then began putting on his coat. Noting the difficulty he was having, Ruth went over and helped him, though the marshall looked a little self-conscious about needing help.
“Want me to go with you?” Ruth offered.
“No,” he said, “you stay with Rose.”
“Oh, th’ missus said she’d already talked to the Carsons about taking Rose. They thought they might like to consider it,” Niles said.
“Oh,” Ruth managed, “that’s good. Your wife hadn’t mentioned the Carsons earlier—I’ll talk to Mrs. Seaton about it later. She said she was going to the church.”
“Yes, decorating for a wedding, you know. Nice young couple. Known them all their lives.”
Apparently Annabelle Seaton was a pillar of the community in spite of her quietness. Of course, it wasn’t every day three frozen strangers materialized out of a snowstorm. This morning Annabelle was as friendly as Ruth could have asked.
“Yes, she told me,” Ruth said to Niles.
She felt distracted, as if she couldn’t concentrate properly, and she didn’t know why. Rose needed a home. A real home. And if Annabelle had found a good family, well, that was good.
Dylan opened the door. “I’ll be back later.”
“Yes,” Ruth said absently. “Have Gert make sure you have no infection.”
He gave her a tolerant grin. “I’ll do that.”
As the door closed, Ruth heard Rose start to awaken. She hurried out of the kitchen to see about her. Annabelle had pulled out a spare drawer to make a bed for the baby and promised to look for a more appropriate crib today. Ruth was afraid Rose would crawl out of the cramped space.
Rose had a wet diaper, so Ruth quickly changed her, grateful that Annabelle had provided the luxury of diapers. She hugged Rose close, enjoying the baby’s clean scent. Her heart ached. Rose needed parents—real parents—but Ruth was going to miss holding her little body close.
“I bet you’d like some milk,” she murmured.
Since they’d reached Sulphur Springs, Rose wanted to eat all the time.
“Making up for all those weeks when you had so little, are you?” Ruth said softly. She laughed when Rose gurgled happily, but guilt assailed her. When they moved on, would the baby go hungry again—and cold? Ruth sat at the kitchen table, holding the cup, avoiding Rose’s efforts to grab it. Soon the little girl settled down and drank the milk.
“Oh, Ruth,” Annabelle said as she came in later, her cheeks rosy. “I forgot to tell you. I found a couple who might like to have Rose.”
Ruth knew she should be elated, but she just felt empty.
“The Carsons. Henry and Clara have no children. They’re about … well … forty, perhaps. It’s so hard to tell,” Annabelle finished, reaching to brush a work-worn hand across Rose’s hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child who enjoyed milk so much,” she said. “It’s good to see her contented.”
Nodding, Ruth ignored the moisture suddenly filling her eyes. “Tell me about the Carsons.”
“Oh, they’re fine, churchgoing people. Wanted children for years but none seem to come along. Henry breaks horses for a living. There’s a real need out here, you know. In fact, they’ve got a bunch of horses in the corrals right now. Got some for sale,” Annabelle said.
Once Annabelle warmed up, she was actually rather chatty.
“What is Mrs. Carson like?” Ruth asked.
“Well … Clara’s a hard woman to get to know.” Annabelle poked up the kitchen fire in preparation for the evening meal.
“Why is that?”
“She’s very quiet—and very neat and orderly. Hardly says a word. But she’s a fine woman. Henry’s quiet as well. They have a peaceful home, I think. They live just outside of town. A small house, but there’s room for a baby. Would you like to go talk to them tomorrow afternoon?”
Ruth didn’t, but there was no way around it. Rose needed a home and the Carsons sounded ideal. “That would be fine. If the snow has cleared enough.”
The concession tasted sour. Her heart twisted at the thought of going. But she’d made a commitment to find a good home for Rose, and she would do it.
“They’re not far out. We’ll be all right in the buggy. If not, we can wait a day or so.”
Ruth played with Rose while Annabelle prepared supper. When Rose discovered the joy of playing with a ring off a pickle jar, Ruth sat her on a blanket on the kitchen floor where she would be warm, so Ruth could help Annabelle cook.
By the time the meal was ready, Dylan had returned, looking a little pale.
Ruth helped him off with his coat. “Are you all right? What did Gert say?”
“I’m fine—”
“I’ll go ask her myself,” Ruth warned.
Dylan appeared uneasy, as if he wasn’t used to someone worrying about him. “There’s some infection, but she poked around and said she didn’t think it needed to be lanced. Gave me something for pain.”
“Let me see what she gave you.” Ruth stood in front of him and extended her hand.
Dylan reluctantly surrendered the brown bottle. Ruth sniffed at the contents and wrinkled her nose. “How much of this are you supposed to take?”
“A teaspoon three times a day, if I can get the stuff down. Smells like rotting garbage.”
Ruth sniffed the vial. “Have you taken any yet?”
“Gert made me choke down a teaspoon of the medicine—it’s strong enough to drop a buffalo.” He sat down in the nearest chair. “Would you get me a cup of coffee, Ruth? If you’re not too busy.”
Concern filled Ruth. His request for her to get his coffee must mean he felt worse than he’d ever admit. “Are you sure that’s all Gert said?”
“That’s all she said.” Dylan looked at Annabelle. “Chicken sure smells good, Mrs. Seaton.”
“Going to make some gravy to go with it,” Annabelle promised.
“I may have died and gone to heaven.”
<
br /> Dylan’s grin set the woman atwitter. Ruth hid a smile by turning away. Dylan had not lost his charm. It still oozed from every pore. Even Annabelle had fallen under his spell.
Ruth met his eyes solemnly. “Mrs. Seaton said she’s found a family who might be willing to give Rose a home.”
“Oh?” Something flickered in his gaze—Ruth wasn’t sure if she saw relief or disappointment. “Are you going to talk to them?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
Dylan studied her for a long moment. “What if they’re a good family for her?”
“Then—then Rose will have a family.”
Ruth picked up the baby and put her into the wooden high chair that Annabelle had brought down from her attic.
As if he’d received a silent call, Niles strolled into the kitchen as his wife set the food on the table. Ruth spooned potatoes and gravy for Rose, letting the mixture cool while Niles and Annabelle came to the table.
“Offer a blessing, Father,” said Annabelle.
Niles had a voice that could carry halfway across town, and when he prayed, he made sure every word was heard. Ruth caught Dylan’s eye as she bowed her head and hid a smile. Niles liked to hear his own voice, but he was truly a man of God and she liked to hear him pray.
They enjoyed a fine meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and the last of the green beans from Annabelle’s garden. The conversation flowed as if it were any other day. But for Ruth it was anything but normal. By tomorrow night Rose could belong to a couple of strangers.
After lunch the next day Ruth and Annabelle climbed into the buggy and tucked thick robes around themselves. Dylan had insisted on going with them despite Ruth’s urging him to stay and rest.
“Not on your life,” he’d proclaimed as he put on his coat. And so the threesome set off to talk to Henry and Clara Carson.
The Carson place was, as Annabelle said, not far outside of town. The house was surrounded by corrals, many of which held five to eight horses each. No doubt Mr. Carson was a prosperous horse wrangler. The dwelling itself was small, with a porch across the front. Rosebushes, now winter-dead, had been trimmed back, but their branches still poked out of the snow.
Annabelle, Ruth, and Dylan had barely stepped out of the buggy when the front door opened and a tall, pretty woman stepped onto the porch. She was wearing a blue-flowered dress with a rounded collar and a white apron covering the front. She looked like a perfect mother for Rose, but Ruth couldn’t conjure up one smidgen of happiness about it.
She swallowed hard and summoned up a pleasant smile as she walked toward the porch. Her only hope now was that Clara kept house like a gutter rat.
Chapter Twelve
“Clara, this is Ruth and Dylan, and the little one is Rose,” Annabelle introduced. Ruth hugged the baby protectively as Dylan took Ruth’s arm and steadied her.
Clara Carson looked nervous. She clasped her hands in front of her and smiled. “Come in.”
Ruth followed the others into the house, taking in every detail. The front room was neat and smelled clean. Rats, Ruth thought.
A Christmas tree adorned with white candles stood by the fireplace. Brown, braided rugs, faded by many washings, covered the floor. Heavy curtains hung at the windows, blocking out winter’s feeble light. Crocheted doilies graced the backs of three chairs, books were neatly and evenly stacked on a small table, and a framed picture hung on the wall. Ruth thought it was a landscape but the colors were so dark she couldn’t tell.
Ruth let the baby’s blanket fall away and removed the small pink crocheted hat Annabelle had found among some baby things she’d packed away.
The woman took a step backward, her eyes noting the child’s heritage. Her features twisted.
Dylan squeezed Ruth’s arm reassuringly. If it had not been for his presence, she couldn’t have done this. She looked at him, and a silent, compassionate message passed between man and woman … father and mother.
“As I mentioned, Clara, this is a tragic circumstance,” Annabelle began as the four were comfortably seated in the immaculate room. “This baby was found in a burning wagon, with the only man who might know whom she belongs to dead from Indian arrows. Ruth rescued the child and has been caring for her ever since. But the baby needs a good home, and Ruth and Dylan are not in the position to keep the child.” Ruth noted how skillfully Annabelle skirted the truth.
“The mister and me are God-fearing folks,” Mrs. Carson said in a strangely flat voice.
“I’ve assured Ruth of that.”
Rose reached toward a glass dish that sat on a lamp table.
“That’s not for play,” Clara warned.
Ruth distracted the baby by jiggling the jar ring she’d brought with her. “Sorry.”
Clara leaned forward, cautiously touching the child. “She’s a pretty little thing—even if she is one of those savages.”
Ruth caught back a sharp retort.
Clara looked up and met Ruth’s eyes. “The mister and I have need for children what with all the work to be done around here, but the good Lord has not seen fit to send any until now.”
Rose reached out and latched on to Clara’s hand. The woman smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes. Rose brought the hand to her mouth, and Clara paled as drool pooled in her hand. Gently prying the tiny fist loose, she reached for a crisp handkerchief and lightly blotted her hand. “My, they are messy, aren’t they?” She smiled.
Ruth glanced at Dylan. Messy. Yes, Rose could be very messy.
“May I get anyone coffee? tea?” Clara asked.
The three guests declined.
“Would you like to hold her?” Ruth hesitantly lifted the baby and held her toward Clara. For a moment the woman looked as if she didn’t know what was expected of her. “Oh … I don’t think that’s necessary.” She patted her stiffly starched apron. “I have my Sunday best on this afternoon … the mister thought it appropriate. Perhaps later …”
Nodding, Ruth lowered Rose back into her lap.
Dylan spoke up. “Will your husband be along shortly?”
Clara shook her head. “No, he leaves family things to me. He’s a very busy man, you know. He has little time for outside interests.” She smiled again.
Ruth lifted her eyes sourly. Rose was not an “outside interest.” This was a child they were talking about, not a hobby. As far as Ruth was concerned the interview was over.
Dylan stood up, twisting the brim of his hat. “We’ll not keep you, Mrs. Carson. Ruth and I will give this some thought.”
Surprise crossed the woman’s face, and she slowly stood up, carefully straightening her blouse collar. “You’re leaving so soon?”
“We need to get back to town,” Annabelle explained. “Looks like it could snow again anytime.”
Clara nodded. “You will let me know when you might want to bring the child here? I’ll need a few days’ preparation… .”
“We’ll let you know what we decide,” Ruth managed. “I want to pray about this.”
“Certainly prayer is called for,” Annabelle agreed.
Ruth held Rose close as they made the silent trip back to town. As Dylan and Ruth got out of the wagon, Annabelle laid her hand on Ruth’s arm.
“You weren’t satisfied with Mrs. Carson?”
Ruth felt a thrill when Dylan pulled her and Rose protectively against his side. A muscle worked in his jaw. “No, but Ruth will pray about it.”
Annabelle gave him a curious look. “Of course. Only God knows what he has planned for this little one.”
Niles Seaton was leaving as they approached the boardinghouse. “Old Mrs. Brown is feeling poorly. Thought I’d stop by to see if there’s anything she needs from the mercantile. How did the visit with the Carsons go?”
“Why don’t I walk with you to Mrs. Brown’s?” Annabelle looped her arm through her husband’s. “We can talk later, Ruth.”
“Yes, thank you for taking us to meet Mrs. Carson.”
Dylan took Ruth’s elbow and s
teered her toward the door. “What did you really think of Mrs. Carson?”
“She’s not getting my child.”
“Your child?”
Ruth whirled to face him. “Dylan, she wouldn’t even hold Rose or talk to her. Her only concern was that silly glass dish. She was … cold, Dylan. And she called Rose a savage.” Ruth stiffened her chin. “Clara Carson is the savage.”
“Annabelle seemed to think the Carsons are good people.”
“I’m sure they’d do all the right things. The house was nice. Clean. Mrs. Carson appeared to be affluent and well mannered. But that doesn’t make a parent.” Ruth rested her hand on the crop of black hair. “A baby needs someone to get down on the floor and play with, Dylan. Even I know that. I can’t let Rose go there.” She pleaded silently for him to understand.
Dylan met her gaze for a long moment. “Then she won’t go there.”
As simple as that? She wouldn’t go? Relief flooded Ruth. She drew a shaky breath. “Then she won’t go.” When she met Dylan’s smile, she thought her heart would burst right out of her chest. Then she won’t go.
The next afternoon Niles delivered a note to the Carsons informing them that the child would remain with Ruth and Dylan for now.
Sunshine glinted on the crusted snow so brightly it made Ruth squint. She took a cleansing breath of air, turning her face to the warm rays. They were on the trail again. They’d started out not long after sunup.
Niles and Annabelle had stood on the front porch of the boardinghouse and waved them off. Ruth had to laugh when she thought of how Rose had melted Annabelle’s heart. The night they’d arrived, Annabelle had been woken from a sound sleep and seemed distant, but oh, how she had warmed to Rose and Ruth and Dylan while they were there. Why, by the time they left the woman was practically conversational.
A part of Ruth regretted leaving Sulphur Springs. But another part, the bigger part, felt a rightness about being with Dylan and Rose. There was hope for her future, wherever she ended up. Hadn’t she just read Jeremiah 29:11? “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” She clung to the hope that God would do good things for them, and that God would lead her to her expected end—a new life, either in Deer Lick or in Wyoming. Perhaps she could find a job in Deer Lick that would allow her to support Rose… .
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