by Zina Abbott
Kendrick gritted his teeth. He could hope she intended to conduct herself pleasantly as she purchased meat for the day, but he knew he needed to prepare for the worst. “Good morning, Mrs. Thompson. How may I help you today?”
Dorcas Thompson, a glare in her expression, scowled at Kendrick. “Is it true what I heard?”
Kendrick felt his entire body tense. He refused to ask what she had heard, but he could guess. Considering the number of malingerers who had been crowded around his window and cracked-open door earlier, no doubt the gossip about the arrival of the county sheriff bringing him a baby he had supposedly fathered had reached her ears. He kept his tone of voice deceptively soft. “I couldn’t say, Mrs. Thompson, for I don’t know what you heard. If it was the bleating of my goat, I expect her to quickly grow accustomed to her new surroundings and not make too much of a racket.”
Kendrick felt a surge a satisfaction as the woman blinked and appeared to momentarily be confused. Evidently, after the large serving of feed and a fresh bucket of water he had given her, Waggles had behaved in her new home. At least one thing was going right for him this day.
Dorcas Thompson’s temporary look of bewilderment twisted into one of disapproval, complete with squinted eyes and pursed lips. “I don’t need to hear about any tomfoolery regarding a goat. I am speaking about a matter that reveals your moral character—or, more to the point—your lack of the same. I am speaking of…”
Kendrick suppressed a grin as he watched Dorcas Thompson’s eyes widen and an expression of shocked disapproval appear on her face. It was almost worth having the baby in his shop to see the woman experience the same level of discomfort she so profusely dispensed upon most people around her. Almost.
Dorcas swallowed and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “So, it’s true. The sheriff brought your…er…out-of-wedlock child to you.”
Kendrick exerted every ounce of patience he possessed as he replied. “True, the sheriff brought me a baby. For reasons I do not care to go into, I can assure you, she is not mine. However, there appears to be a misunderstanding. Until it’s cleared up, the sheriff left the child with me.”
Dorcas glared at him and harrumphed. “A likely story. It is bad enough that your conduct has been deplorable, Mr. Denham, but for you to not even own up to your own culpability in this matter is beyond acceptable. And, to think, I considered you as a possible candidate to marry my widowed sister. She and her two sons are due to arrive on the stagecoach tomorrow.”
“Marry? Your sister? What do you plan to do, Mrs. Thompson—marry off your sister as soon as she steps off the stagecoach?”
Dorcas jerked her head back. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Denham. I plan to take her to my home and give her a few days to settle in before I start introducing her to acceptable marriage prospects. However, it won’t do to have three extra people in my house for too long. Besides, considering her reduced circumstances, I’ll be obligated to include her sons in my school without charge until she finds a man to support her family and pay for their schooling.”
“I see.” Once she mentioned it, Kendrick did recall hearing that Mrs. Thompson was one of the few women in town who operated a school in her home. Why anyone would willingly subject their children to the control of this particular woman for several hours a day remained a mystery.
Kendrick offered what he hoped came across as a reassuring and agreeable smile. “Mrs. Thompson, I can assure you, I have no plans to marry. I’ve been content as a single man…”
“Of course, you’re content.” Dorcas gestured in the direction of Madeline, who now sat up and, an expression of bewilderment on her face, looked about her. “It’s obvious how you have kept yourself content, Mr. Denham. However, I will not allow you to ruin my sister’s reputation. She comes from good stock and deserves a husband who is responsible and conducts himself beyond reproach.”
Husband who conducts himself beyond reproach? Kendrick clamped his teeth together to keep from blurting out that he, along with many of the established men in town, knew Simon Thompson did not always stay away from home until late at night due to the demands of his job as a supervisor on the aqueduct project. He was known to keep company with a dark-haired French prostitute who had a place set up on Yankee Hill Road. “Ma’am, believe me or not, as I know you will, but I did not father this child. For what reason I don’t know, the mother chose to name me as this baby’s father. I haven’t had enough time to figure out what I will do with her, but I will see she is well cared for.”
“It’s the least you can do. Just make sure you do not ruin my sister’s reputation by pursuing her. She can do better than to marry a man who flaunts his indiscretions.”
Kendrick huffed. Forget about trying to be agreeable with this woman. Like a dramatic scene in a vaudeville act he once saw, Kendrick slapped the palm of his hand to his chest and swayed sideways. “Ma’am, you wound me. To consider the loss to me—oh, to be denied the pleasure of a familial connection with you, causes me great distress.”
Dorcas narrowed her eyes as she studied Kendrick’s face. “Are you mocking me?”
Yes. “No, ma’am, I wouldn’t dream of it. I will assure you of one thing, though. I will make no attempt to seek out and ruin your sister when she arrives.” If she is anything like you, I don’t want to come within a hundred miles of her.
Kendrick sensed that all eyes in the room turned toward the basket as the baby started squirming and fussing.
Dorcas, her hands on her hips, impatiently tapped her foot. “Well, pick her up.”
Kendrick walked over to the baby’s basket and scratched the side of his head while he determined the best way to go about holding the baby when he lifted her out. He dropped to his haunches next to the wicker side.
Madeline pushed her upper body up and looked around the room. Her gaze found Jeb. She lifted a hand in his direction and opened and closed her fist several times.
Kendrick turned to Jeb. “She feels comfortable with you. Maybe you should…”
Jeb shook his head. “Nope! She was given to you. You need to teach her how to trust you. Just put your hands under her armpits and lift her up. Hold her next to you so she knows she’s safe.”
Kendrick cringed upon hearing Dorcas’s sharp voice. “You seem to know a lot about babies, Mister...ah—?”
“Jeb Cardwell, ma’am. I got a couple at home.”
“Then, what are you doing here without them?”
Kendrick heard Jeb suck in a deep breath.
“Same as everyone else. Searching for gold to make a better life. Just haven’t got to where I’m ready to send for them yet.”
Kendrick felt guilty over the relief he experienced when Dorcas Thompson had turned her ire on Jeb. Served him right for sticking his nose in other people’s affairs by roosting all morning in the butcher shop like Kendrick’s personal life was a circus sideshow.
Then again, Jeb did seem to know more about handling babies than he did. Heaving a deep breath, Kendrick followed Jeb’s instructions and, holding the baby under her armpits, rose to his feet. He cautiously pulled her toward his chest but immediately thrust her from him.
“She’s wet.” He looked down at the spot on his shirt. “Now she’s got me all wet.” With his large hands still wrapped around her chest, he held her, her feet dangling in the air, arm’s length away. At the sound of the baby beginning to sniffle as her chubby little legs pumped up and down, Kendrick could sense the indignation in his voice increase. “And now she’s going to cry. What am I supposed to do?”
Jeb chuckled, but he made no move to rescue Kendrick. “Babies do that. That’s why they brought all those napkins for her. You need to change her into dry diapers.” As Kendrick stepped toward him, Jeb shuffled back and held up his hands. “Just change her. The bag with the clean cloths is right on your counter. You can do it there, or take her back to your bed to do it. Just hold onto her and make sure she don’t roll off of anything.”
“What? Change her on the same counter wh
ere you cut meat that people eat? What are you, a barbarian?”
Kendrick thought his head would explode after hearing Dorcas’s screech. He felt his jaw tighten and his pulse rate increase as he turned to the woman. “No, ma’am, I’ll take her in the back. Even if I did change her out here, there is such a thing as soap. I have plenty of it, and I use it daily to scrub my meat counter.” He thrust Madeline in the direction of the woman who had tested his patience to the limit. “Here. Since you know so much about it, you change her wherever you see fit.”
Tucking her chin into her neck, Dorcas stepped back. “Absolutely not. You brought her into this world. Now, you take care of her.”
The baby’s whimpers grew loud. Kendrick bent his elbows to pull her closer as he turned toward the carpetbag that everyone assumed held the clean diapers. He sighed and mumbled under his breath. “I’ll figure it out.”
A quick glance at the front of his shop told Kendrick curious faces no longer crowded his window. He suspected his meat deliveries that day were going to be late—if he made them at all. Until he brought this current fiasco under control, he refused to conduct business with anyone. He cricked his neck to face the corner in which Jeb had retreated and raised his voice. “Jeb, on your way out, do me a favor. Exchange that open sign for the closed one. Be sure to pull the door closed tight when you leave.”
Upon hearing an unfamiliar sound, Kendrick came to a complete stop and froze in place. He watched in horror as the baby started doing something new, something he did not understand.
Madeline began to fuss and wriggle. Her face turned bright red as she next stiffened her arms and legs and strained her muscles. She fisted her fingers and pointed her toes. Next, she drew her knees toward her belly and grunted.
Kendrick hated the panic he knew his voice revealed. “Jeb, what’s happening? Why is she doing this? Help me out.” He felt his temperature rise as the man, instead of speaking with the calm voice of reason Kendrick needed at the moment, began to laugh.
Jeb did not offer an ordinary laugh that went with being mildly amused—he burst into a ceiling-raising, gut-wrenching laugh.
“You’re in for it now. She’s filling her britches.”
“She’s doing what?” Kendrick’s forehead wrinkled in consternation as he studied the little imp from head to toe while his befuddled brain attempted to figure out exactly what Jeb meant. The next thing Kendrick knew, the most awful smell he could recall being exposed to—an odor that rivaled the smell of day-old offal from a butchered animal—began to fill the room. He watched in horror as a yellowish stain began to spread down the insides of the baby’s legs inside her leggings.
Kendrick turned to the man and held the now-squalling baby out to him. “You seem to know what to do. You take care of her.”
His body bending and twisting with gasps and guffaws, Jeb shook his head. “Not me. It was bad enough the time or two I had to change my own. I’m sure not doing it for someone else’s baby. All I can tell you is, when cleaning little girls, wipe front to back.”
“Front to back—my land! How uncouth of you, a man, to speak of such things about a female….”
Jeb immediately grew serious as he addressed to Dorcas. “Ma’am, I wasn’t one to change diapers much when I was home. But, the time or two my wife had to put our young’uns in my care, she threatened me with everything she could think of if I let them stay in soiled clothes to where they ended up with their little bottoms getting all red and sore. I’m just repeating what she told me on how to care for my little Emma. You got any greater wisdom to pass along, feel free to speak up.”
Dorcas harrumphed and turned away from Jeb but said no more.
Jeb again faced Kendrick. “That little one there is probably going to need a bath. Make sure you don’t get the water too hot. From what I recall, babies don’t much like baths, no matter what. They definitely can’t handle water as hot as what feels good to a full-grown person.”
Kendrick held out the baby with her soiled diaper toward Dorcas. “Mrs. Thompson, for the sake of this baby, perhaps you might lend your skill to helping her. I truly don’t know anything about changing a baby’s clothes or bathing one—certainly not after they’ve messed like this.”
Dorcas again pursed her lips like she had been sucking lemons—this time, extremely tart lemons. “The answer is still no. Cleaning up a mess you created in the first place is no less than you deserve.” She spun on the ball of her foot to flee the building. “The wages of sin, Mr. Denham. The wages of sin.”
Chapter 5
K endrick leaned his head against the high back of the rocking chair, not sure between him and Madeline, who was the most exhausted after the trying day they each experienced. In his arms he held a sleeping baby—one who spent hours crying in his presence, who kicked and fussed as he laid her on his small kitchen table covered with an oiled cloth and peeled away clothing and the mess that had come from her.
What an education. Beneath her leggings, the baby wore pants made of wool that clung snugly to her upper thighs and waist. Inside, he had found white cotton fabric that looked to him to be the same muslin used to make men’s shirts. The temptation had been strong to toss the offending clothing out. However, good sense had prevailed once he realized that, if he threw away her clothing every time she defecated, he soon would have nothing for her to wear. Instead, he had found a bucket, filled it with water, and dropped the soiled clothing inside.
He glanced over at the child who had settled into a deeper sleep. He resisted the temptation to run the back of his finger along her exposed cheek. She did appear to be cherubic, but babies had a tendency to wake up, and then they were not always like cute little angels—as he had witnessed more than once this day.
Thankfully, the woman who used to care for Madeline sent the rocking chair. He quickly discovered that the motion of the chair while he held her did have a calming effect on her.
Madeline Marie. Doing his best to not disturb the child in his arms, Kendrick leaned toward his table now missing the oilcloth—one that resisted the lye soap and his efforts to scrub it clean with a stiff boar bristle brush. It still bore the yellow stain from her diaper. He would not use it for anything other than changing the baby. He picked up the letter written to him by her mother at some point before she died. Stretching his body over the armrest that bore a few teeth marks compliments of Waggles, he pulled the lamp closer so the light would reflect off the page.
Dear Mr. Kendrick Denham,
If you are reading this, you know that I have passed from this life and have named you as the father of my most precious possession, my daughter, Madeline Marie. For reasons I am not at liberty to divulge, I cannot turn my child over to the man who actually fathered her. However, especially without the presence of her mother in her life, it is important that she has a father who will love her, care for her, and protect her. Knowing my life on this planet would be short, I exerted every effort at my disposal to make the best selection possible for the father of my child. I have some wealth I can leave her, which will be released to her at appropriate times and for specific purposes. However, the one thing I desire for her the most I cannot give her. That is respectability.
I am known in Sonora, which is why I did not choose from among the denizens of that community. My reputation would follow my daughter, a situation with which I do not wish to burden her. Because Sonora is the county seat, and appears to foster industry that will ensure its stability and longevity, a home here would not be the best option for her. Instead, I sought what I judged to be a man of good character in a mining town which, by the nature of mining towns, can be expected to be temporary in its existence. Chances are, Columbia will be abandoned by most after the profitability of mining gold that gave rise to its existence has passed. I sought a man who did not seek after the quick riches of mining gold directly, but who had developed a skill and a trade he can take anywhere and use to support his family. I anticipate the time will come when you find the necessity to
move away from Columbia. I hope it will not be to Sonora, but to a place outside this county where my legacy will not follow my daughter.
Kendrick dropped the hand holding the letter to his knee and closed his eyes. The woman was probably right. Not only would it be best her past not follow the baby, now Madeline’s mother had involved him, it might be best her past not follow him. He had already figured out that, no matter how loudly he protested his involvement with the paternity of this child, people chose to believe the worst about him instead of accept him at his word.
Kendrick sighed and shook his head. He needed to stop thinking solely of himself now. Even though it was best for him if people accepted the truth that he was not this child’s natural father, it might not be what was best for her.
Kendrick lifted the letter and continued reading.
More than a man of wealth and political standing, I sought a man of good character. I judged you to be kind, a man concerned with providing a valuable service to others rather than a man scheming to take advantage for his own benefit—a man who would not sell my daughter off into an unwanted marriage for his own financial and political gain. I hope I have judged you correctly.
Kendrick paused and reread those last two sentences. He suspected they told him something about Madeline’s mother.
Especially now that you have a daughter to care for, even if you must seek back east to find one, I hope you will find a good woman to marry. I sincerely hope the woman you choose is kind and loving, a woman capable of loving my daughter. It is my greatest wish for my daughter, as she grows up, to have such a woman as her mother. She needs a mother who will teach and guide her and one who will be a good example for her.
