Special Delivery Baby

by Sherri Shackelford

  “I don’t know. It’s never come up.” She sighed. “You’re right. At least I have my sewing.”

  For a woman who wanted a family, she didn’t appear interested in a suitor. The two things Hannah seemed to enjoy were Ava and sewing. When not busy with Ava, the woman sewed fiendishly. She spent much of her time with a measuring tape slung around her neck and a needle in her hand. While Tomasina didn’t know much about women’s fashion in general, she preferred Pippa’s style to Hannah’s. Though flamboyant, Pippa’s mode of dress was far less fussy than Hannah’s flounces and ruffles.

  Then again, Hannah hadn’t been wearing those awful dresses much lately.

  “Say,” Tomasina began, “how about we go to Booker & Son to see if they have anything fancy I can wear to that party? Maybe you could buy some fabric or ribbons, as well.”

  “About that...” Hannah stood and approached the wardrobe. “I have an idea.”

  While Tomasina’s belongings remained in a knapsack under her bed, Hannah had filled the wardrobe to overflowing with her dresses.

  Hannah riffled through the ruffles and bows. “I’ve been reworking some of my old dresses. Now that we’re out West, I’ve discovered my fashion is woefully overdone.”

  You could say that again. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Anyway, I pored over all the fashion plates in Booker & Son and drew up some of my own sketches. I had plenty of fabric in my old gowns to rework the designs. And, well, since I haven’t been taking care of my father and Ava naps most of the day, I’ve had a lot more time on my hands. What do you think of this?”

  Tomasina gasped. Pushing up with her elbows locked behind her, she leaned forward. Entranced by the dress, she swung her legs off the bed and gingerly touched the silky fabric.

  The design was elegant and simple. The fabric was satin in a shade the color of new spring grass. The design featured a scooped neck with cap sleeves and a modest bell skirt. Hannah had decorated the neckline with an embroidered ivory-silk ruffle. She’d created a matching embroidered silk overlay for the skirt with scalloped edges in the same fabric.

  “Why, this is absolutely beautiful, Hannah.” The young woman had real talent. Tomasina admired the elaborate craftsmanship of the stitching. “You did this all by yourself?”

  “Yes. I learned from my mother.” She took Tomasina’s hand. “I thought...well, I thought that if some of the ladies in town wore my dresses, it would be an advertisement. Once Mr. Canfield realizes how many orders I can arrange, he might consider investing in my shop.”

  “You wouldn’t have to talk anyone into wearing something this beautiful.”

  “I designed this one for you. I was hoping you’d wear it to the dance.”

  “I couldn’t.” Tomasina reverently touched the gossamer fabric. “It’s too pretty.”

  “But you have to! It’s the exact color of your eyes. I knew the minute I saw you that this dress would be perfect.”

  Dropping her arms to her sides, Tomasina backed away. “I’ll look silly all decked out in something that fancy.”

  “You won’t. We’ll have Pippa fix your hair.” Hannah moved behind her and grabbed the mass of red curls, piling them atop her head, then angled her toward the mirror. “Look how pretty that is. With a few strands hanging down to frame your face, you’ll be the belle of the ball.”

  Tomasina held the dress in front of her and examined her reflection. “Forget about convincing Mr. Canfield. I’ll be your first investor.”

  With a shake of her head, Hannah let the red curls tumble free. “Opening a shop is quite expensive. I need fabric and another sewing machine. Not to mention trims, beading and buttons. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I have a lot of money. More than I can spend on myself.”

  “Then why are you working as a maid?”

  “What else would I do? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs?” Tomasina opened the wardrobe door wider. Her work as a maid was finished after today anyway. She doubted she’d have much success in the kitchens, though she’d give the opportunity a try. There was no use sitting around bored. “How many more of those dresses do you have? You know, like that one. Not like the other, uh, fluffy ones with all the bows and stuff.”

  “I’ve reworked this one and started on another.”

  “If you and me and Pippa each wear one, that’d be a good start.” Tomasina rubbed her chin. “If Daniel Gardner’s wife wore one as well, we’d have you swimming in orders in no time.”

  “I know Leah would help.” Hannah tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “I made her wedding dress, and she seemed quite pleased with that gown. I’ve also been letting out her other dresses.”

  The news kept getting better and better. “Leah is married to one of the town founders. We’ll convince her that it’s important for Cowboy Creek to support a local business. Especially if that business is owned and operated by women.” Tomasina glanced at the clock and shot to her feet. “I have to get back to work. The dance is less than a week away. You make up a list of what you need, and we’ll get started right away. I’ll talk with Pippa and you speak with Leah.”

  Distracted by her new project, Tomasina practically skipped to her next room. That’s what she’d been missing in her life since arriving in town. She’d been missing a goal. Normally by now she and Pa would be traveling back to Texas or taking on work with another outfit. Until now she hadn’t realized how much of her future had depended on her pa and where he chose to work next.

  She paused at a smudged mirror and grasped the rag she’d tucked into her sleeve. Absently wiping the surface, she considered her life until this point. Everything she knew about herself was a lie. She wasn’t independent. She’d never been respected. The men had shown her deference because of her pa. She wasn’t a free spirit; she was a camp follower. Her entire upbringing had been dependent on her father’s whims.

  Even the money tethered her to her pa, to the past. He’d saved that money because he’d known she’d relied on him for her future.

  The image in front of her blurred.

  For once she was in control of her own destiny. Assisting Hannah with her shop felt good. Why shouldn’t women help each other out instead of always counting on the men?

  She wanted real respect, not the shelter of her pa’s reputation.

  Opening the door to the next room, she wrinkled her nose. Clothing littered the floor, and dirty dishes covered every available surface.

  She threw herself into cleaning the space.

  A sound caught her attention, and she glanced up. Will leaned on the door frame, his arms crossed.

  Her cheeks flooded with color. She wasn’t used to men who wore their clothing with such casual charm. For a cowboy, shirts were loose, often mended and rarely without stains.

  Though not flamboyant, Will’s clothing spoke of impeccable tailoring and expensive materials. On closer inspection, she noted threads of black and forest green woven through his wool suit. The fawn colored embroidery of his waistcoat along with his crisp, white shirt contrasted nicely with the darker fabric.

  She’d always considered men who wore suits as stamped replicas fashioned from the same mold.

  Not so with Will Canfield. He was in a class alone.

  She sat back on her heels. “Don’t you have your own work?”

  “I was patrolling the corridors for hog-tied guests.”

  “Very funny.” She fisted one hand on her hip. “You’re checking up on me.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “I suppose not. A good trail boss always takes care of his crew.”

  There was something comforting about having him near. He didn’t treat her as though she was helpless. He looked out for her, same as he would Simon or Mrs. Foster. She was part of his team.

  All the lo
neliness of the past few weeks came flooding back. She should be happy. She should be relieved. She should be grateful she’d found a new team.

  She’d gotten exactly what she wanted only to discover she craved more. She didn’t just want to be part of a team, she wanted to be a vital member. Indispensable. Not simply an interchangeable part.

  Assisting Hannah with her new shop was just the thing to get her mind off her problems. She also liked the idea of snatching the project from under Will’s nose. He’d hesitated too long. That man was too used to getting his own way around town.

  It would do him good to lose out to a woman once in a while.

  “You don’t have to finish the day as a maid,” Will said. “Take the afternoon and relax. Leave the mess. Living in squalor will build character for this hotel guest.”

  “Nope. This is my job. I’ll see it done properly.” She wasn’t living off her pa’s reputation anymore. She’d earn her own respect. “Now leave me alone. I have work to do.”

  “Tomasina?”

  “Yes.”

  “Try not to kill any of the guests.”

  She chucked her towel at him, and he ducked out of the way. “I’m not making any promises.”

  One day she’d get the upper hand on him. One day soon.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two days following the hog-tying incident, Will called entrance to the knock on his door.

  Tomasina appeared, a stack of towels in her outstretched hands.

  He raised his gaze from his ledger. “They’re not pink.”

  “I didn’t wash them. I’m only delivering.”

  “How is kitchen duty?” he asked.

  “Never ending.”

  He absently tapped the letter resting on his desk. “I forgot to apologize the other day for what happened with Mr. Daniels.”

  “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’ve given Mr. Rumsford more latitude in refusing guests in the future.”

  “Mr. Rumsford is only happy when the hotel is full of guests.” She lowered her chin and gazed at him from beneath her hooded lids. “Which means he turns a blind eye to all sorts of things.”

  “Really.”

  Tomasina stacked the towels on a chair for him to put away later. “Don’t mind me. I shouldn’t be gossiping. Forget I said anything. Don’t fire Mr. Rumsford over my silly comment.”

  “Never apologize for honesty.” He sat back in his chair and slid one hand into his vest pocket. “Any other observations you might share?”

  “Oh, no. I’m not falling into that trap.” She bustled around the room, straightening pillows and opening the curtains with a snap. “I’m not a snitch.”

  “You’re not a maid anymore, either. Quit fussing with the knickknacks.”

  She heaved a sigh and flopped onto a chair set in front of his desk. “Are you worried about something or planning something? I can’t tell with you.”

  “Worried.”

  “A burden shared is halved.”

  “I did something I regret, and now I have to face the consequences.”

  “This is getting interesting.” Tomasina rubbed her hands together. “Spill your guts.”

  “You might take a little less delight in my suffering.”

  “I might. But I’m not gonna.” She flashed a teasing grin. “What’s got your chaps in a twist?”

  He slid the letter across the desk. “Daniel and I sent away for a mail-order bride.”

  “So what? I heard you sent away for twelve of them, plus the four that came last month. What’s the big deal?”

  He heaved a sigh. “This bride is for one particular man. She’s coming to meet Noah.”

  “Noah Burgess? The recluse with the half-wolf dog who only comes into town for supplies?”

  “That’s the one.”

  She arched a brow. “Does he know you sent away for this bride?”

  “No.”

  “You are in trouble.” She threw back her head and chortled. “He’ll have your hides for pulling this stunt.”

  “The news only grows worse.” Grimacing, he tapped the letter with his index finger. “Read this.”

  She dutifully took the paper and scanned the contents. Expressions flitted across her face: humor, confusion and dawning sympathy. Whether for him or for the prospective bride, he wasn’t certain.

  Reaching the end, she folded the letter and slid it back across the desk. “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing. Yet. I’ll speak with Daniel and we’ll find a solution.”

  “You owe that woman an apology. Consider all the things she wrote. Constance Miller is a flesh-and-blood person. She has hopes and dreams, and she’s looking forward to a new life. With Noah. I’ve never even met the man, but from the rumors I’ve heard, he isn’t sociable in the best of circumstances.”

  Will raked his hand through his hair. “I know.”

  “Can you fess up real quick like? Before she makes the trip?”

  “Too late.”

  Tomasina pursed her lips. “Then you’d better tell Noah.”

  “I will. After I speak with Daniel. There’s no use saying anything too soon. Once we tell him, Noah will stew. Since she’s already on her way, my friend might as well live in peace for a few more days.”

  “Oh, I see. It’s Noah you’re worried about.” She smirked. “You wouldn’t be wanting a few more days of peace for yourself now, would you?”

  “I gave up on peace the minute a certain redheaded rabble-rouser dropped into my life.”

  “That’s fine thanks for saving your life.”

  “Maybe we’re worrying for nothing. Constance has never met Noah. She’s never met anyone in town. There’s no reason she won’t find a husband.” Will tipped back his head and studied the dangling crystals of the chandelier. “For all we know, they may even fall in love.”

  Tomasina snorted. “Not likely. From what I’ve heard, Noah isn’t looking for a bride. He won’t be happy when one arrives for him unannounced.”

  “It’s too late now.”

  “Why don’t you marry her?”

  “Me?” A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. “That’s ridiculous. She’s coming for Noah.”

  “Just a minute ago you were passing her off to any eligible bachelor in town. You’re an eligible bachelor, Will. Why not you?”

  “Because...because I don’t want to court her.”

  The idea was hardly far-fetched. Up until a few weeks ago he’d been looking forward to settling down and starting a family. Dora had seemed a perfectly reasonable companion at the time. He was no longer willing to settle. His heart hadn’t been engaged before. Their breakup had revealed the truth.

  “You still think Noah will like her.” A wry smile stretched across Tomasina’s face. “You’re a romantic.”

  Oh, thank goodness. Her conclusion was better than anything he might have invented.

  Will discreetly blotted his damp forehead. “I’m not a romantic.”

  She stood and sashayed toward the door. “Will Canfield is a hopeless romantic.”

  “Say one more word and I’m firing Mr. Rumsford.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I might.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure Constance Miller will step off the train and Noah will fall madly in love with her at first sight. When Constance sees him, little hearts will appear over her head and stars will shine from her eyes.” Turning, Tomasina placed her hands in prayer beneath her chin and fluttered her eyelashes. “They’ll marry each other and live happily ever after.”

  She made a few annoying kissing noises for good measure. Will took her ribbing in stride. At least she hadn’t scolded him as Leah had. As was her habit, Tomasina cut to the heart of
the matter. There was little chance of this situation ending well, and a very good chance Noah would never speak with him again.

  “Tomasina,” Will called, “when is your next shift in the dining room?”

  He was only being polite. He certainly wasn’t planning his day around her work schedule.

  “Tomorrow morning. I’m serving breakfast. Why do you ask?”

  He ate in the dining room quite often. Tomorrow was as good a day as any other for eating downstairs. “I’ll keep watch for rowdy guests. Someone has to save them from you.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “Be nice to me or I’ll tell Noah your little secret.”

  His gaze lingered on the swish of her skirts as she exited the room. With her sharp mind and quick wit, she was wasted at the Cattleman Hotel. What was her father thinking—raising her as a drover? Mr. Stone must have known she’d never survive in the profession without him.

  Tucking the letter into his breast pocket, Will blew out a heavy breath. His own behavior was not above reproach. Who was he to judge others for their poor decisions? Mr. Stone hadn’t expected to die. Perhaps he’d had other plans for Tomasina’s future.

  Either way, Will was on borrowed time with her.

  Too bad, really. She was far more entertaining than facts and figures.

  How would she feel about formal dinners and endless campaigning? His hands grew cold and he recognized the familiar dread that always preceded a fruitless battle. He pictured the future he’d built for himself, only this time something was missing.

  He imagined the next months, the next days, even the next hour without her, and each second stretched before him with endless gray monotony.

  What an irony. He’d decided to run for office because he missed the adrenaline of working toward an important cause.

  Running for governor was tame compared to battling wits with Tomasina Stone.

  * * *

  Tomasina faced the hotel cook. “I wonder if we could keep this latest development between the two of us.”

  The man gave her a look she was becoming all too familiar with lately—an expression that landed somewhere between anger and exasperation.