Special Delivery Baby

by Sherri Shackelford

  “I had nothing to say to you, Miss Stone.” The older man hushed her. “So sorry, Mr. Canfield. It is very difficult to find good help these days.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Will admired Tomasina’s trim figure. “New dress?”

  She scowled and blew the hair from her forehead. “What’s it to you?”

  “Nothing.” He gestured Simon forward. “Just making an observation.”

  She’d been appealing in dungarees, but seeing her in a dress left him speechless. Though simply designed, Tomasina’s garment nipped in at her waist and accentuated the gentle swell of her figure. With her hair pulled back, the enticing nape of her neck drew him forward. He cast a wary glance in Simon’s direction. If the boy sensed his infatuation, he’d never let Will live it down.

  The young man tipped the basket forward.

  “There is a reason for my visit.” Will indicated his pink shirts. “I’m assuming I have you to thank for these.”

  “Yes.” Sighing, Tomasina dropped her arms to her sides. “Working as a laundress is much more difficult than it looks.”

  “I don’t think washerwoman is your calling.” It was for the best. This was no place for her. The work was too hot and too heavy. She’d be stooped and wrinkled in a fortnight. “You’ve been sacked.”

  “Thank you for pointing that out once more.”

  Her hair was glorious. At least the steam suited her curls. Mr. Lin reached for her arm, and she jerked away. Will growled deep in his throat. His thoughts took on a fierce possessiveness. He didn’t like Mr. Lin touching her. He certainly didn’t like the idea of her eking out a miserable existence in the stuffy back room of the laundry.

  Sensing his distress without understanding the cause, Mr. Lin yanked the basket from Simon and grimaced. “I will fix for you.”

  “Excellent.”

  Will forcefully unclenched his teeth. The stress from the recent attacks on Cowboy Creek, not to mention the added danger of an outlaw recuperating in the jailhouse, had shortened his temper. Except none of that excused his sudden overprotectiveness. Tomasina evoked his tenderness and incited his ardor. His urge to safeguard her had become irrevocably linked to his need to care for her. He wanted to possess her thoughts as she’d possessed his.

  Gathering his wayward feelings, he cleared his throat. “You’ve always done fine work, Mr. Lin. You won’t lose my patronage.” He faced the laundry’s former employee. “Since you appear to be at a crossroads, why don’t you accompany me? I’m delivering a check to the boardinghouse. The reverend’s daughter has been looking out for Ava.”

  Rocking back and forth on her heels, Tomasina cast him a wary glance. “I suppose I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  “That’s the spirit. Chin up.”

  “You’re starting to annoy me.”

  He bit back a grin. “Only starting? I’ll try harder.”

  “Please. No. I have an awful headache. I’ve been up since well before dawn.”

  The dark smudges beneath her eyes and the weary tone of her voice tugged at him.

  “Return to the hotel and have a nap. Simon will bring you lunch in an hour.”

  “I’m fine. I can sleep in tomorrow. There’s no reason for me to wake up early anymore, is there?” They stepped outside, and she reached for Ava. “Let me hold her. The past two days have been an absolute misery. I’ve got steam burns on both my arms, and I think my fingertips are permanently puckered. I could use a little sweetness in my life.”

  The porter touched the brim of his hat. “If you don’t need me anymore, sir, I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

  “Actually, Simon, why don’t you speak with Mr. Lin about the hotel’s laundry needs for the next few weeks? We’ll be full up for the town-founding celebration. Mr. Lin may need temporary help.”

  Tomasina rolled her eyes. “Good luck to those who apply.”

  Tugging on his lapels, Simon grinned. “Right away, sir.”

  She rested Ava on her shoulder and cupped the back of her tiny head. “I never knew there were so many rules to fabrics and colors and all that other whatnot. I’ve never had to separate my laundry before. I always just washed everything in one big pile.”

  “Yes.” Will didn’t bother hiding his amusement. “Pitfalls are hidden all around us.”

  He followed the boy’s progress as he strutted into the laundry once more. “It’s time Simon took on more responsibility.”

  “I’d say he has plenty.” Her glance held a hint of accusation. “He’s always at the hotel. Doesn’t the boy ever go home?”

  “He doesn’t have a home.” She stumbled over an uneven spot in the boardwalk, and he steadied her with a hand beneath her elbow. “The lad came around looking for work when the hotel opened. He’s been my right-hand man ever since.”

  “What happened to his family? To his parents?”

  They’d reached the corner, and she paused, staring up at him.

  My, but she was beautiful in the sunlight. Holding the baby, she was a wild, untamed Madonna. He was gripped with an emotion so strong it was suffocating. Her eyes were questioning, and he grappled with his powerful reaction to her.

  Since she carried the baby, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to let his hold linger on her elbow. “I don’t know what happened to Simon’s parents. He never offered an explanation, and I never asked.”

  “Aren’t you even a little curious?”

  “If Simon wants to confide in me, he’s had plenty of opportunity. Beyond that, I don’t pry.”

  Another skill he’d gleaned during the war. Oftentimes men chose silence for a reason.

  Tomasina shook her head. “I suppose. Still, I’d have been curious.”

  Should he have pried? He wasn’t the boy’s father, after all. Simon appeared content with his lot. And yet he sometimes caught the lad staring at him with something akin to hero worship. He’d been uncomfortable with the attention, but perhaps he’d kept too much of a distance. Trying to keep Simon from working was like trying to hold back the Smokey Hill River with a slotted spoon. If speaking with the boy erased the gentle censure in Tomasina’s eyes, he’d gladly try.

  “For you,” Will said with a wry twist of his lips, “I’ll interrogate him until he begs for mercy.”

  “Simon is going to murder me in my sleep.”

  “He’s not the murdering sort. He’s more likely to salt your tea or burn your toast.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They walked the next block in companionable silence, and he paused at the corner of Second and Eden Streets. The sun glistened off Tomasina’s red hair and highlighted the smattering of freckles across her nose. The sounds of progress filled the air. He caught the crack of the blacksmith’s hammer, the clip-clop of hooves as a carriage passed by, the click of heels on the boardwalk. Five years ago he had never laid eyes on this place, and now this was his home.

  Tomasina tipped back her head. “What are you thinking about?”

  “The past.”

  “On such a beautiful day as this, you should only think of the future. Remember what Thomas Jefferson once said. ‘I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past.’”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  She shrugged. “Of course I’m right.”

  “And modest, too.”

  Not for the first time he noticed her smile was tinged with sadness. With grief, there was always a reckoning.

  “Come along,” she said. “I don’t have all day.”

  He reached for the back of his brim and bumped his hat low on his forehead. “I was given to believe you had quite a bit of free time these days.”

  “You are no gentleman to remind me.”

  “You bring out the scoundrel in me.”
/>   * * *

  A light sleeper, Tomasina woke to a disturbance. Hushed voices sounded in the corridor, and feet pattered by her door. She considered ignoring the commotion then discarded the idea just as quickly. She’d always had more than her fair share of curiosity. Awake now, she dressed quickly in the dark and tugged on her boots. She tiptoed down the stairs and discovered the lobby empty.

  The noise sounded again. Muted laughter and the thump, thump, thump of a lively drumbeat.

  The front desk was deserted, though a lamp remained lit. She stepped outside, and the faint music and laughter grew louder. The boardinghouse for men, Drover’s Place, was located directly across First Street from the Cattleman Hotel. A crowd of people had gathered on the boardwalk in front of the building.

  Tomasina crossed the distance. Lights shone from every window. Music from a crude band along with raucous talk and laughter spilled onto the boardwalk. It was clear the boys were having a real whopper.

  She recognized the sheriff and one of his deputies, along with Daniel Gardner, Simon, Mr. Rumsford, the hotel manager, and, of course, Will. A disturbance near the hotel would not go unnoticed or unattended.

  The sheriff scratched the stubble on his chin. He’d obviously dressed in a hurry. He’d forgone his coat, and one of his suspenders hung loose across his back. “I say we let ’em wear themselves out. If we go storming in there, we’ll only cause more problems.”

  “What do you think?” Will asked the man to his right.

  She recognized Daniel Gardner, the gentleman who owned the stockyards.

  “Shut them down,” Daniel said. “They’re drunk. It’s only a matter of time before someone starts a fight.”

  Will turned toward one of the deputies, caught sight of her lurking in the shadows and waved her forward. “Tomasina.”

  She scuttled from her hiding place. “I heard the noise.”

  The sheriff shot a glance at her and hastily stuffed his shirttail into his trousers. Though not as disheveled as the sheriff, Will had not donned his coat, either. He wore no tie, his sleeves were rolled up and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. He didn’t carry his cane, either.

  Seeing him this way was oddly intimate. Without the armor of formality between them, he seemed much more accessible. Her surreptitious gaze was drawn to his corded forearms. She pressed a hand against the strange quivering sensation in the pit of her stomach. Why did the mere sight of him weaken her knees and turn her thoughts into jelly?

  “They’ll have the whole town awake before long.” Will rested his hands on his lean hips. “They’ve been up for hours. How long before they wear themselves out?”

  “They can go like this for days,” Tomasina added helpfully. “Once those boys get started, they don’t quit.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  The sheriff had set a lantern at his feet, and the light cast long shadows across the men’s faces.

  Daniel peered up at the building. “What if we give them another hour or two before we bust up the party?”

  Will caught Tomasina’s gaze. “You know them best. What do you think? Shut down the fun or let them wear themselves out?”

  She carefully considered her answer. “Wait them out. Those boys are like a box of dried tinder. Anything we add is fuel to the fire.”

  A crash sounded, interrupting Will’s reply. Glass shattered, and shards rained down on the group. Something stung her arm. Suddenly knocked aside, she landed hard in the street. Pain blasted in her hip. Will sheltered her with his arms, his back to the commotion, surrounding her with his warmth. A wooden chair splintered inches from her head.

  Springing upright, Will grasped her hands and pulled her up. “Get back to the hotel!”

  Glass shattered once more, this time from the lower window. Two brawling men landed at her feet. Will shoved her behind him, protecting her yet again. Daniel and the sheriff each grabbed a drover by the scruff and yanked them apart.

  Bracing a hand on Will’s arm, she peered around him. The party had turned into a melee. Pairs of men exchanged punches. Whiskey bottles crashed, and the hollow thumps of fists against flesh filled the still night air.

  The sheriff reached for his gun, and Tomasina froze. This was getting out of hand quickly. Someone was liable to wind up dead. She placed two fingers in her mouth and gave an ear-splitting whistle. A universal sign among drovers, the whistle halted the men in their tracks.

  Daniel and the deputies used the distraction and waded between the fighting pairs. They pulled people apart, gradually restoring order.

  Something dripped on her arm and she gasped. Will’s shirt had darkened along his sleeve. “You’ve been hurt.”

  He clutched his arm. “It’s nothing. I’ll finish here and visit the doc.”

  “You’ll go this instant.”

  Rubbing his knuckles, his expression grim, Daniel approached them. “Visit the doc, Will. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  He hesitated another moment before nodding. “I’ll wrap it back at the hotel. You know where to find me if you need anything else.”

  Will took a limping step, and for the first time Tomasina recognized the extent of the injury to his leg. He obviously relied heavily on his walking stick.

  She looped her arm around his waist. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have told you to wait out the boys.”

  The feel of his muscles beneath her fingers invoked a strange, prickly sensation.

  He stiffened and moved away. “I hurt my arm. I can walk on my own.”

  “But your leg...”

  She knew immediately she’d said the wrong thing.

  He scowled, and a muscle ticked along his temple.

  Simon arrived and stepped between them.

  He handed Will his walking stick. “You left this in the lobby, sir.”

  Nausea pitched in her stomach. She’d been raised around men the whole of her life. A man didn’t like appearing weak. Though she didn’t view his injury as a disability, she doubted he wanted her opinion at that moment.

  She cleared her throat and looked away. “I’ll fetch the doctor. Might be more injuries. Not much I can do here, anyway.” She paused, wanting to smooth out the moment. “Thank you for protecting me back there.”

  “I’ll have to start charging you for the service soon.”

  “I’ll keep a running tab.”

  Tomasina fetched the doctor, rousing him from his sleep. Accustomed to late-night calls, he was dressed and ready before she figured he’d even fully woken.

  When she returned to the hotel, Will was sitting on a banquette while Simon clumsily wrapped a bandage around the cut.

  She waved the young porter aside. “I’ll finish.”

  Clearly grateful for being relieved of his duty, Simon scurried away. She took the seat beside Will and reached for his arm. He didn’t protest.

  “You remind me of my pa,” Tomasina said softly. “I miss him.”

  Fatigue had weakened her defenses. She wanted to sleep beneath the stars with the clatter of cattle horns in the background. She missed the aroma of coffee brewing over the campfire. She wanted to wake up and know where she belonged.

  “What was he like?” Will asked. “Your father?”

  “He was stubborn.” It was odd talking about her pa in the past tense—he was very much alive in her thoughts. She hadn’t yet relegated him to history. “He was smart.”

  “Promise you’ll tell me more about him one day.” Will glanced at the clock. “When it’s not three in the morning. Stories about your father deserve my full attention.”

  “I’d like that.”

  For the next few minutes she concentrated on staunching the bleeding and securing the bandages. With only the lamp on the front desk for light, she struggled with the task. When she finished,
he smoothed his hand over the bandage.

  The corner of his mouth tipped up in a weary smile. “Do you think we’ll ever have an encounter that doesn’t end in bloodshed?”

  “Your peaceful town needed a little mayhem.”

  “When I decided to put Cowboy Creek on the map, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he said ruefully.

  “The town may never recover.”

  Will pushed off from his knees and stood. “I may never recover.”

  She sighed. Just once she’d like to end an encounter between the two of them without someone bleeding. Maybe then he’d see her as a person separate from the rowdy drovers.

  Then maybe he’d see her as a woman. She wanted him to look at her the way the men at the bank had gazed at Pippa Neely.

  He reached for her hand. “I’ll walk you to your room. We should make the distance in one piece even without an armed guard.” A smile softened his words. “Try and stay out of trouble for the next few hours, okay? You’ll be the death of me before long.”

  “You survived a war.” Some dreams weren’t meant to be. “Surely you can survive Texas Tom.”

  “Time will tell, Tomasina Stone. Time will tell.”

  Chapter Nine

  In an effort to restore peace Will sought out Tomasina in the dining room the following morning. Since she tended to avoid him, he’d recruited Simon in the effort. The request had garnered him a speculative stare.

  “Tomasina,” he said, his voice suddenly too loud. “Ava and I are visiting Hannah at the boardinghouse. If you’re not busy... If you wouldn’t mind...could I interest you in a walk?”

  Her fork stilled midair. “Uh, I suppose. Can I finish breakfast?”

  “Certainly. I’ll join you.” He cleared his throat. “May I join you?”

  “Take a seat.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. Always before he’d prided himself on his ability to maintain a cool head while those around him lost theirs. With Tomasina, his skill had deserted him. He shoved his hand through his hair. He sounded like an idiot.

  The previous evening he’d done more than sound like an idiot. He’d looked like one. She’d seen him walk without his cane.