Kendrick

by Zina Abbott

  Once she was as clean as she was going to get, Kendrick poured more goat’s milk in her cup and fed it to Madeline. While nudging her lips with the cup rim to take the last sip, he realized she had fallen asleep.

  After putting the baby in her crib, he cooked up some fried potatoes and chopped ham for himself so he could let the fire in the stove die down for the day. He would eat the second half of his meal cold after he took care of her that evening. If nothing else, the afternoon feeding experience convinced Kendrick to get organized and have everything on hand where he could reach it before he tied Madeline to the chair so he could feed her supper.

  When Madeline awoke, Kendrick changed her diaper—grateful the bicarbonate soda recommended for the diaper pail helped cut some of the odor—and fed her. With the summer solstice less than a month away, the days stayed light late. He suspected Madeline would not be ready to settle down to sleep after eating her supper. With nothing else to do, Kendrick settled into the rocking chair—returned once again to the kitchen—with the baby on his lap.

  After playing for several minutes, Kendrick realized Madeline was losing interest in the game he had devised that amounted to nothing more than him picking her up off his thigh and hugging her after several two-handed pats on his chest. As he searched around for another way to entertain her, his gaze fell on the diaper he had used to wipe her face and hands after her supper. Holding the baby so she stayed on his lap, he pulled it toward him and felt around the corners. A little crusty and sticky, but what was the harm of a little food clean-up mess?

  Kendrick tickled the baby’s nose with the corner of the towel and smiled when she laughed. “Do you know peek-a-boo, Madeline? I remember my sisters playing it with the last two babies in our family. Watch me.” He grinned as he watched the expression of awe appear on Madeline’s face when he snapped the towel open with a flourish. Next, he covered his entire head. “Where did Papa go, Madeline? Find Papa.” After hearing nothing for several seconds, Kendrick snatched the fabric from his head. “Peek-a-boo. Here’s Papa!”

  Surprise turning to delight, Madeline clapped her hands, missing making palm-to-palm contact a couple of time. Her face beamed and she chortled with glee.

  “Okay, let’s do that again.” Kendrick tossed the cloth over his head once more. “Where’s Papa?”

  Madeline grunted her complaint as one small hand reached up and grabbed at the cloth.

  Kendrick felt her tug at the towel, but after failing to dislodge it more than a few inches, he once again pulled it off his head. “Peek-a-boo! Here’s Papa.”

  Once again, Madeline clapped and squealed her delight.

  “Now, you hide, Madeline.” To avoid frightening her, Kendrick eased the open cloth over the baby’s head. “Where’s Madeline?” He waited and watched her grow still. After several seconds, she reached her hands and grabbed at the fabric, he helped her pull the cloth off her head. “Peek-a-boo! There’s Madeline!”

  When Kendrick uncovered Madeline’s face, he noticed she wore an unsure expression. Only once she saw him again did she giggle and bounce on his leg.

  Kendrick decided he would hide once again but make it easier for her to pull the cloth off his face. Since his plan required both hands, he lifted the heel of the leg on which Madeline sat and propped it so, if he left her unsupported and she slid, gravity would tumble her against his body. He held the cloth at two corners and lifted it to hide his face and from the baby. “Peek-a-boo, Madeline. Where’s Papa?” As soon as he felt her grasp and tug at the cloth, he lowered it enough for her to see his forehead. “Where’s Papa, Madeline?”

  Madeline grunted as she bounced forward and slapped both her palms on Kendrick’s chest.

  Kendrick suspected she did not like this slower version of the game. To see what she would do when he revealed more of himself, he lowered the edge of the cloth so it covered the lower half of his face and only his eyes and forehead showed just above its upper edge. “Peek-a-boo, Madeline. Where’s Papa?”

  Madeline’s eyes grew wide. Instead of laughing with pleasure, her forehead wrinkled in confusion and her lips quivered.

  Kendrick continued to watch her, baffled by her reaction. Surely, she recognized his eyes. He waited to see what she would do.

  “Mama?”

  Kendrick froze in place and stared at her. Madeline could speak? There was no mistaking he heard her say “mama.”

  Madeline rocked her body forward twice, both times pounding on his chest with her little palms. “Mama! Mama!”

  Peek-a-boo was no longer a fun game, Kendrick decided. He slid the towel away from him and tossed it on the table. He shook his head and spoke as softly as he could. “No, sweetheart. Your mama’s not here.” She’ll never be here again. “I’m Papa.”

  “Mama!”

  The baby’s screech unnerved Kendrick. As she arched her back and threw her hands over her head, he scrambled to grab her before she flung herself off his lap and onto the floor. He clung to her as she twisted side to side and alternated between hunching and then arching her back in an attempt to escape his grasp and the misery coursing through her. The entire time, she screamed the one word she knew, calling for the one person she wanted, but who did not come to rescue her. All Kendrick could think to do was to hold on to her to prevent her from throwing her body against the rocking chair arm or falling to the floor.

  When he sensed her tiring, Kendrick pulled her against his chest, only for her to respond by kicking her feet up and down in his lap and against his thighs. She slapped her palms on his chest and used all her strength to push herself away from him. He pulled her to him and held her tight, one hand against the back of her head and one across her back as she flailed her arms and legs and, between sobs, called for her mama.

  He shook his head. The realization that he had, without knowing it, triggered the memory of the woman this baby dearly loved, and now sorely missed, tore at Kendrick’s heart. He continued to rock and pat Madeline’s back, all the while murmuring, “Papa’s here. Papa’s got you.”

  He turned to stare across the room as he continued to rock the child whose expression of hysteria only now began to ease, probably due more to fatigue rather than to her being reconciled to her loss. It unsettled him that his words—his presence—was not enough. She refused to be comforted by him, and he could not bring to her the only thing she wanted at the moment—her mother.

  He leaned his head down and spoke softly into her ear. “You’re with Papa now, Madeline. I’ll never let you go, sweetheart. I’ll always be here for you.”

  Kendrick closed his eyes and shook his head. How could he promise her he would always be with her? Had her mother not loved her? His guess was, she had, and she would have given anything to continue to be with her daughter and raise her to adulthood. However, Margaret Pearline Mayfield had at some point realized, no matter how much she wished to always be with Madeline, she had fallen into the grip of mortality, one that demanded her life end while her child was still a baby.

  Madeline’s cries changed into whimpers. Instead of swinging her arms and kicking her legs, she allowed her limbs to rest against his body, molding to his form.

  As he continued to rock Madeline, Kendrick realized Caroline and Charlotte were right. He needed to find out more about this baby’s mother, and the sooner the better. What had the sheriff said—they were selling her mother’s house and the Womack siblings planned to return to San Francisco? They might have the answers he needed—if he could catch them before they left Sonora, and they were willing to tell him what he wanted to know.

  His plan for the next day had been to visit the ranch below Sonora regarding buying some beef to replenish his stock. Perhaps, if he had time, he could make a few inquiries in Sonora on his way home. He would also ask Lydia—Mrs. Meyer—if she could plan on watching Madeline while he was gone Tuesday, even if he was unable to return before dark.

  Kendrick rubbed circles on Madeline’s back. He was her papa, he realized—not because offic
ial records declared he was, not because the mother chose to name him as her father, but because he decided he would be her father. There would be no giving her to an orphanage or a good family. For better or worse, he would raise her and take care of her.

  He again kissed the back of Madeline head as she slept with her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Papa loves you, Madeline. Unless death claims me, I’ll always be here for you.”

  Madeline rewarded him by snuggling tighter into his chest and offering him a burp.

  Chapter 15

  Monday, May 28, 1854

  A fter traveling to the ranch below Sonora, Kendrick returned to Columbia feeling exhausted. Since he had no plans to do any hauling, only discuss business, he had rented a horse from the livery rather than put Sunshine to work pulling the wagon that distance after he made his deliveries. With only smoked meat, he left three days’ worth at each stop with the promise he would have fresh beef by Friday, at the latest. While the animal made for faster, less bumpy travel, Kendrick’s body now reminded him it had been too long since he had been on the back of a horse.

  As he walked home the three blocks from the livery, he reflected on what he had learned that day. First, he and the rancher had agreed on the price for two head of beef. Because he wanted the hides—still a valuable trade commodity in California—the man had agreed to have his men kill, disembowel, and skin the steers. Kendrick agreed to return in two days for the first carcass. The other steer would stay on the hoof for a couple more weeks.

  The man had also told Kendrick of a neighbor who might have a pig available soon. Although he preferred to butcher pork starting in the fall when the weather was cooler, as long as he had a block of time when he could prepare the meat for the smokehouse before it had a chance to spoil, it would not hurt his feelings to replenish his stock of smoked and salted meat.

  Kendrick blew out a breath at the thought that the arrangement worked out well timewise. He already had it in his mind to visit Sonora the next day. Although he could have used the beef being available starting last Saturday, his customers would need to wait until after he brought it back with him on Wednesday. Something more important had entered his life—a daughter. He needed to find out more about this baby girl foisted on him not even a week earlier so he could better know how to take care of her. After the peek-a-boo episode the night before, he realized he needed to learn more than how to feed her, clothe her, and keep her physically safe.

  Kendrick walked past the front window of his building, did a double-take, and stepped back. Hands on his hips, he studied the fabric that covered most of the glass panes from the inside. He guessed the opposite side of the cloth to be yellow with some kind of small design.

  The Thompson girls must have worked on the curtains they insisted he needed for his shop even though he had not yet given them any money to buy the fabric. Shaking his head, he completed the few steps to his door and knocked. “It’s Kendrick Denham, Mrs. Meyer. Please unlock the door.”

  Kendrick stepped inside his shop and nodded a greeting to Lydia, who held Madeline in her arms. He stood with his hand on the open door as he studied the changes made since he left that morning. He first noticed the rail separating a section of his room from the area where his customers would wait their turns to buy meat. Jeb had finished the divider, then come by while he was gone and installed it. On the other side of the divider, he saw the crib, his kitchen table, kitchen chair, and the rocking chair—all of which faded into the background after his gaze focused on Lydia and Madeline now sitting in the rocking chair.

  “As you can see, Mr. Denham, your friend, Mr. Cardwell, has been busy today. He came while the girls were still here. They decided it was acceptable to let him in since they were here to see I was properly chaperoned.” Her eyes bright with laughter, she pointed toward the counter. “The gate that allows you to pass through is over there. He designed a rather clever latching system that attaches to your counter.”

  Kendrick walked over to the gate. He ran his hand along the top rail, impressed that Jeb had used the planer he requested as part of his construction fee to render the boards smooth and splinter-free. He next inspected the latch before he turned to Lydia. “The man seems to do a good job. He should start focusing on this type of work instead of chasing gold.” He felt warmth spread within him as he watched Lydia nod.

  “I agree. He said he would start working on the bench and changing table tomorrow. The girls are anxious for those to arrive. Lottie and Caro have big plans for your shop.”

  Kendrick turned around and studied the curtain covering the front window. He suspected they had found some of the rope he bought for clothesline and maybe talked Jeb out of a couple nails so they could hang it. As he had guessed earlier, the girls made it of yellow calico with a white and blue floral pattern. “I see. I’ll have to admit, that gives you a little more privacy while you are out here with Madeline.”

  “Yes.” She pointed to a basket set on the chair next to kitchen table covered with the diaper-changing oilcloth. “As you can see, the girls were not able to finish their project. They dared not spend too much time here this morning since my sister is not too happy with anyone at the moment, although I’ve drawn most of her ire.”

  Kendrick turned his gaze from the basket with its bundle of the same yellow fabric as used for the curtain and focused on Lydia. “How is that? Is it because she’s displeased you are working for me? If so, I apologize. I was worried that would happen.”

  Lydia looked down and shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Mr. Denham. It was my decision. I have spent a lifetime cowering to my oldest sister. It is past time I learn to make my own way in life without allowing her to control what I will and will not do. I did tell her I would be working for you. As my nieces warned me, she demanded I turn over all my earnings. I refused, telling her I would only pay for my boys’ schooling, our fair share of food, and my own soap. I would take care of our own room and do my portion of cooking and cleaning in the kitchen, but I would not be her servant. Since Lottie told me what the other families pay per child attending school, I told her that was all I would pay for mine.”

  Kendrick chuckled. “My guess is, she did not take it well.”

  Rolling her lips between her teeth, Lydia shook her head. “No, but that is what we ultimately agreed upon. I intend to work all day tomorrow for you, Mr. Denham, if you still want my help.”

  “I do.”

  I want more than your help. I want to know you better—perhaps make you part of my life. Kendrick cleared his throat to release the tightness that had developed at the thought of more acquainted with the woman before him. Was it only for Madeline’s sake, to provide a family for her? Or was it for his sake, too?

  Kendrick knew he needed to stay focused. “In fact, I need you to work long hours for the next three days. Tomorrow, I’ll be going to Sonora to see what I can learn about Madeline’s mother. The next day, I need to pick up a whole beef to bring back here. The third day, I’ll be in my butcher shed out back and cutting it up for meat. I don’t want her, or anyone else, for that matter, anywhere near that. Will that be agreeable?”

  Lydia looked up with a smile and nodded. “Yes. I’ve been having difficulties with my one son, and it has created extra work for me. I must see to it before I arrive. If I can’t get away as early as you’d like, I’ll see if the girls can sneak over here and help between completing their reading assignment. You know they love taking care of the baby.”

  Kendrick nodded. “I can see where little boys might get rebellious after being pulled from a familiar home and forced to move somewhere new.”

  Lydia shook her head. “No, Will is not rebellious, although Dorcas insists he is deliberately—” She sucked in a breath. “Mr. Denham, my son has an inherited condition I did not know existed until Will showed signs of it. My late husband finally admitted he and another family member of his had suffered with the same affliction when they were young. He assured me my son will eventually grow out
of it. For the time being, there is little we can do but be understanding and try not to humiliate him over something he can’t help. Unfortunately, my sister refuses to listen to reason.”

  “Say no more, Mrs. Meyer.” You have just summed up your sister in a nutshell. “I look forward to you being here in the morning as early as you can make it.”

  While supporting Madeline’s sleeping body, Lydia carefully rose from the rocking chair. “Mr. Denham, there’s something I wish to be sure you are aware of before you begin your quest.” She stepped carefully and slowly lowered Madeline onto her crib mattress and covered her with the yellow wool blanket. She next motioned to Mr. Denham to follow her into his kitchen.

  Raising an eyebrow, Kendrick trailed behind Lydia. Part of preparing this space in his front public room was to save her from the impropriety of being in his private quarters. Yet, now she beckoned him there. Perhaps, with her being a widow, she did not feel those rules as important to protect her reputation. Dorcas Thompson would see it differently. She’d have both our skins if she knew this was happening.

  Once in the kitchen, Lydia turned to him. “Mr. Denham, as you might guess, I have been in here, especially when my nieces were here to ‘chaperone.’ I washed the baby’s clothes again and tried to do as much as I could to help you with Madeline. While putting her things away, I took everything out of her chest to refold them. The girls told me the diapers had arrived in the carpetbag, so I put them back there.”

  Kendrick raised his eyes to the ceiling. I got caught. He realized that was Lydia’s tactful way of saying she noticed that, when he had taken Madeline’s clothes off the line on Saturday, he had shoved the works—gowns, soakers, leggings, diapers—into the chest without sorting or folding anything. Since then, he had rooted around in the heap that bulged out the sides and did not allow the lid to close until he found what he needed.

  Lydia cleared her throat. “Mr. Denham, are you aware that the trunk Madeline’s things came in has a false bottom? I noticed it once I emptied it.”