Down in the Valley
Page 32
“No. I’m just tired. And shaky. And sore.”
He leaned forward and kissed her.
“I’m not sure how many times I want to do this,” Em said warily.
He smiled and kissed her again.
“Do you want to hold her?”
He hesitated a moment because she was so tiny and fragile, but then he reached for his infant daughter.
As Fiona, Charity and Doll finished bundling up, the clock on the mantel in the parlor chimed eight times. They opened the front door and saw that it was snowing harder than before. They braced themselves and dashed out into the cold night to go share the joyous news.
Inside the bunkhouse, Wood finally won a hand and stood up cheering. The other men commented loudly, although everyone shushed when the door opened and the women came in. “Boy or girl?” Wood asked, turning to them.
“I’m telling you, it’s a boy,” Jeffrey stated.
“I say it’s a girl,” Hawk said.
“Well, do you want to hear?” Doll asked. “Or do you want to keep running your jaws about what she might be?”
Wood laughed and clapped his hands. “It’s a she?”
Doll grinned back at him. “She’s a she. Name’s Catherine Anne Medlin.”
The cheer that went up was loud and joyful.
At the Triple H, Greg Howerton paced the floor, waiting for Charity’s return, but on his tenth trip to the door to peer out at the worsening conditions, he decided to go after her.
In his law office, Emmett heard the clock chime and knew it was well past time to call it a day. He glanced out the window and then experienced a sharp thrill out of nowhere. “I have a feeling we’re going to have a new little soul with us soon,” he murmured. Perhaps it was foolish to speak to Ben, but sometimes he felt him so keenly. “If it weren’t so dad-blamed cold out there—” he muttered, as he rose.
In the parlor of the bunkhouse at the Martin-Medlin farm, Edward strummed “Greensleeves” as everyone sipped hot mulled wine. A fire crackled in the hearth and added to the pleasant glow in the room. When the door opened, and Greg Howerton stepped in, Charity smiled because she’d known he would come. She rose and walked over to greet him.
“The baby?” he asked, locking gazes with her.
“A girl,” she replied with a smile.
He returned the smile and started to pull off his gloves.
“Come on in,” Doll called to him. “We’re celebrating.”
Before he could even take off his coat, Charity leaned in and kissed him. “I love you,” she mouthed.
“I know,” he replied quietly. “I got those instincts, you know.”
As snow blanketed the ground and split rail fences and roofs, Catherine Anne Medlin’s eyes opened, revealing startling blue irises and causing her father to laugh even as his eyes filled. Cradled in his arms, the baby’s face puckered as she began to cry, and Tommy and Em exchanged a look of complete and utter love before moving in closer to comfort her.
If you enjoyed visiting Green Valley,
read on for a preview of Spirit of the Valley,
coming this November!
Jeremy lifted his hand to knock on the door of the Greenway cottage, but lost his nerve. Lightning flashed in the night sky and he looked around at the wildly blowing trees. He’d chosen a lousy evening, but here he was. After thinking of little else but the very pretty Mrs. Carter for three weeks straight, it was the moment of truth. He blew out a breath and knocked. With the racket the wind was making, he had no idea if she’d hear it. After long seconds with no response, he raised his fist to knock again, but the door opened and she was standing before him, the wind buffeting her, ruffling her clothes and blowing back her hair. His heart began thudding faster.
“Yes?” she called to be heard over the wind.
“I, ah—”
He moved back as she opened the screen door to better see and hear him.
“I apologize for showing up so late in the evening,” he said loudly, “but I thought you might need some help,” he said, leaning forward slightly so she could hear him.
“Need some help?” she repeated, confused by his meaning.
“Around here. You know T. Emmett Rice?”
She nodded.
“He . . . suggested you needed some help with the place.”
She blinked in surprise and clutched at the front of her shirt to keep it from blowing open. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’m not in a position to hire anyone,” she replied haltingly. “Mister?”
“Sheffield.” He took off his hat. “Jeremy Sheffield.”
The rain suddenly let loose, falling hard at an angle, bouncing off the porch floor. It had been raining off and on for two days and it didn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. “Please, come in,” she said, opening the screen door wider. “You’ll get soaked.”
He stepped inside, barely avoiding brushing against her, and the savory scent of food assailed his senses. His mind raced for what to say next, but the little girl suddenly appeared in the hall, providing a distraction.
“Go finish your supper,” Mrs. Carter said to her, seeing her at once.
“I am finished.”
“Rebecca,” Mrs. Carter said in a tone that apparently meant business, although the girl gave Jeremy a decidedly suspicious look before walking away. Mrs. Carter turned back to him with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry you came on such a miserable evening.” She held herself stiffly, her hands clutched tightly together.
“I don’t mind bad weather. I usually work in a hole where there is no weather.”
She looked puzzled.
“I work in a mine,” he added.
“Oh. I see.”
“Like I said, I heard you could use some help.”
“I won’t claim it’s not true,” she began slowly. “Unfortunately, I’m not in a financial position—”
It was dim enough in the small parlor that he couldn’t see her face clearly, but it was better that way. Easier. He’d come this far. “Well, ma’am, there’s other ways to pay a man,” he said quietly. Other than a noticeable intake of breath, she made no sound or movement. He opened his mouth to say something else, but shut it again because he hadn’t meant to put it that way exactly. Or had he? “I mean to say there’s other arrangements that could be made.” She still didn’t respond. “Like how some people barter?”
“I . . . I’m not altogether certain what I have to barter with,” she replied hesitantly.
He shifted on his feet. “The food smells awful good.”
She exhaled, relaxing slightly. “It’s stew. In fact, why don’t we go into the kitchen,” she said, stammering slightly in her nervousness. “We have plenty to share.”
“That sounds good.”
“Mama,” a child called from the other room. “There’s another leak.”
Mrs. Carter made an onward gesture and then led the way, although she’d only reached the hallway, when she turned back to him, a decidedly conflicted look on her face. Because she wanted him to leave. He held a breath, waiting for the words.
“Mr. Sheffield.”
She looked so uncomfortable and he had taken her by surprise, which wasn’t fair. “Would you rather I leave?” he asked quietly. “It’s alright.”
“I . . .” She stepped over to the lamp on the wall and turned it up before turning back to him. There was a blush on her face and her arms were folded. “I’m not sure I believe you wanted to barter for . . . food,” she said softly.
He nodded slowly as he struggled for a response that wouldn’t frighten her away. “I didn’t have any one particular thing in mind,” he said, keeping his voice as low so the children wouldn’t overhear. “And that’s the truth. I wanted to help. I knew you couldn’t pay. I’m not trying to trick you or anything.”
“I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly.
“I can tell you this much,” he said. “I didn’t have any one thing in mind. And I’d never ask for more than
what you’d want to give. If that’s a home-cooked meal or two, I’ll take it.”
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