A hankie was what she ought to go running upstairs for.
Joe drummed his fingers on his mug, his eyes downcast.
He looked up suddenly, his expression somber.
“I was on my way to town on ranch business. My family owns a spread about twenty miles north of here. It had already been snowing for some time when I came upon the dog. Well, it wasn’t that I came upon it so much as it hunted me down. It was raising a ruckus, so I followed it to an overturned wagon. The baby’s ma and pa were dead. Looked like they didn’t suffer. As near as I can tell, one of them must have tossed the baby from the wagon when it was going over. She was only a few feet away. My guess is that the dog had been watching over her, keeping her warm.”
“Poor little Amelia.”
“Amelia?”
“Her name is embroidered on the hem of her gown.”
He nodded. “She’s got her name. That’s something of them, then.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the wind battering the north side of the house. Was it her uneasy imagination that the house actually shook?
The blizzard was more intense than it had been even moments ago.
“Angels must have guided you here. I hate to think of what might have happened had you been delayed.”
“An angel opened the door, and that’s a fact.”
* * *
Maybe he shouldn’t have said that out loud. The lady was a stranger...a blushing stranger, now.
He had no way of knowing if she would be offended or take his comment with the appreciation he had intended.
“I didn’t mean to be forward, ma’am. But the plain truth is that in this weather we might not have made it the extra mile to town. Our survival depended upon you opening the door. For me and little Amelia, you were an angel.”
The flattery, however sincere and well-intended, seemed not to sit well with her. She shook her head, waved her hand in negation. “If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else.”
“Still, it was you. I’m just sorry the shock of us made you faint.”
“Oh, that...it wasn’t shock. Certainly not a faint,” she said, looking defensive. “I simply got up from the chair too fast and was light-headed.”
“All the same, I’m grateful.” He knew full well that she was not being completely truthful. She had been fine until he’d handed Amelia to her.
“No need to be. The parsonage exists as a place of refuge, after all.” She took a sip of tea, gazing silently at him for a moment. She did have beautiful eyes, the expression soft, doe-like. “At least until the reverend gets back from his honeymoon. I reckon, since you brought Amelia here, you have a right to know about the changes that are coming.”
“I can guess. The new wife wants to make this a home for herself and her husband?”
“It’s understandable...and they want a big family.”
“Are there other orphans living here?”
“Four of them. Until last week there were ten but the town held an adoption social. Six found homes. Amelia would have gone first had she been here. Folks do want babies.”
That’s something he knew all too well. It had been twenty years since he’d done his time in an orphanage. To this day he broke out in a nervous sweat remembering how it had felt to stand quietly in a row with the other children, wondering which of them the potential parents would choose.
The babies always went first, then the little ones.
He had been nine the first time he had stood in that lineup. For two years he’d faced those inspections with his shoulders straight and his knees clacking.
Then one Christmas Eve, Cornelia Landon had offered him a home.
Before taking him to the ranch, she’d made a stop at the mercantile and purchased him a warm coat, new clothes and two peppermint sticks, one for each fist. While he sat by the stove enjoying the unexpected treat, she did a lot of shopping.
The next morning, he woke to find that Santa had visited for the first time since he’d lost his ma and pa.
“The ones who are left,” he said, his heart beating past the remembered ache of rejection. “How old are they?”
Mary ran her fingertip around the lip of her mug. “Dan is ten. Maudie is seven...then there’s the twins. Brody and Caleb are four.”
He nodded. “It won’t be easy for Dan, given his age. And the twins, unless they’re split up...but the girl...”
Mary shook her head, a frown dipped her brows. “There was a farmer who wanted her because he’d lost his wife. The reverend and I thought it would not be a good placement for her. The man was slovenly and we feared that he wanted a housekeeper more than a daughter.”
“I’ve seen that happen.” Not all the potential parents he’d witnessed coming into the orphanage had had the children’s well-being at heart.
“Have you?”
He nodded. His reasons were not something he felt like discussing at this moment. This talk was about the children who lived here.
“He would not have been kind to her,” Mary said, returning to the subject of Maudie. “And truly, there was something about him...his eagerness to have her that set us on edge. Especially after he offered to...well, to buy her. Fifty dollars.”
“Whatever Maudie’s future holds, it’s got to be better than belonging to the farmer.” Even if the poor child spent the rest of her childhood without a family, it would be better than that.
For the millionth time, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks for his adoptive mother. Life with his birth parents had been a sparkling dream, but life with Cornelia had been a miracle.
“I reckon I’ll get to meet them. From the looks of the weather, I’ll be here for some time.”
Footsteps pounded down the stairway. The boy—Dan, he reckoned—dashed into the kitchen gripping a fireplace poker in his fist.
“I heard a man’s voice, Miss Mary,” he gasped, his small chest heaving. “I came on the run.”
Chapter Three
“It’s all right, Dan. This is Mr. Landon.” Mary moved over on the bench and patted it, inviting Dan to join them. “He’ll be staying with us until the storm passes.”
Hesitant, Dan hugged to the doorjamb. While he didn’t come into the kitchen, he did put the poker down beside his bare feet. He nodded his head.
“It’s a pleasure, Dan.” Joe Landon smiled at him, then he winked. “I hope you don’t mind sharing the house with a dog for a while.”
“Dog?” Dan spun about. His gaze, which would be obscured by the sleep-tumbled hair hanging in his face, scanned the parlor.
“There it is,” she told him. “Keeping watch over the baby.”
She heard Dan gasp, then he approached the dog. It looked like a mound of brown fur more than a canine.
The furry creature lifted its head, sniffing the air.
“Will it be aggressive, do you think...because of Amelia?” she asked.
“Let him smell your hand, son,” Joe called after him. “Then you can squat down and get acquainted.”
The dog licked Dan’s hand. When he knelt down, it laved his face, thumped a rhythm with its tail.
“Brody’s gonna pee his pants! Can I go wake him up?”
“Don’t you dare, young man.” Peace was a rare thing in this house, mostly occurring only in the wee hours, as long as no one was sick or having a nightmare.
“You like horses, Dan?” Joe asked.
Standing slowly, Dan pivoted, the dog forgotten, the baby not even noticed. His mouth fell open.
“There’s a pinto in the stable who is partial to boys. You go on back to bed real quiet-like, and I’ll let you meet him tomorrow.”
To Mary’s very great surprise, Dan rushed into the kitchen and extended his hand to Joe.
“Welcome to the parsonage, sir.”
After Joe returned the greeting with a handshake, Dan rushed back toward the stairway.
Halfway up, she heard a muffled “Yee-haw!”
She stirred the tea i
n her mug with a spoon. Staring at the swirling liquid, she swallowed the emotion that cramped her throat and threatened to make her weep.
For the month that she had known Dan, this was the first time she had seen him genuinely happy.
It was the horse that made him smile, just as the dog would make Brody smile. More than smile, she reckoned. Dan had not been far off in his declaration that the four-year-old would pee his pants.
When she glanced up at her guest, she half expected to see him sporting a long white beard, his cheeks rosy red and smiling.
“Thank you, Mr. Landon.” What she wished she could do was lean across the table and give him a hug of gratitude. What she gave him was a ladylike smile. “You can’t know what that means to him.”
“I’d be pleased if you called me Joe.”
It felt as if she ought to have been calling him that all along. She’d never had this feeling of kinship with anyone so quickly before.
Odd as it was, she felt that when the storm passed and he went on his way, she would miss him.
How could that be? Many people had come and gone in her life. Rarely did her thoughts linger overlong on them.
There were Ma and Pa, naturally. She did miss them. Come summer, she would plan a nice long visit to Virginia.
“If you’ll call me Mary.”
“Be pleased to, ma’am... Mary.”
A quick smile animated his handsome face. Didn’t it even shine from his eyes? Her heart beat a little faster.
What kind of fool was she? She knew nothing about him other than that he had business in town and served his mother tea. He could be married with a brood of babies, for all she knew.
Certainly a man as appealing as he was would be spoken for.
“There seems to be room for a ride inside the stable. I’ll take Dan with me when I do the feeding in the morning.”
“I’m grateful. Dan hasn’t had an easy time since he lost his ma and pa.”
“What will happen when the reverend comes back?”
Heartache is what.
The expression on her face must have reflected that thought because Joe’s smile faded.
“Unless someone in town changes their mind and wants to adopt him—or any of them—they’ll be put on the orphan train that’s coming into Railhead Springs next week.”
“I thought the trains brought children from the east out here?”
“That’s right...but the reverend made arrangements with the folks from the Children’s Aid Society to pick them up.”
“Could be they’ll find fine homes.” Joe stirred his tea, stared at it the way she had done a moment ago. “Could be they won’t. There’s no one here in Willow Bank willing?”
“We did try, but given Dan’s age...and to tell you the truth, he’s been through hard times. Folks don’t take to a sullen child. Then there’s Maudie. Like I said, Mr. Blankford wants her...but that won’t do. And even she’s older than folks want.”
“The twins are young. That should be in their favor...but they might have to be split up.”
“There was a couple from town who took them, but they didn’t understand the energy required in wrangling a pair of lively four-year-olds.”
The memory of the boys being returned after only a few days still rankled. But it did have to be said that they were a handful, and their would-be mother had looked completely exhausted. The couple might be right for Amelia, but then again, babies were also tiring.
A suddenly urgent wail came from the parlor. She started to rise but Joe reached across the table and caught her hand.
“Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll see to her.”
His palm felt warm...callused. Maybe it was because of the wild weather punching the house, and his grip was so solid and safe feeling...but she didn’t want him to let go.
* * *
There was something special about Mary’s hand, the way it felt so small and delicate in his.
Made him feel like protecting her. Not that she would likely welcome being protected. She seemed to be a capable woman, what with having the care of four...now five orphans.
For some reason that made him want to champion her all the more. If his ma could get inside his head right now, she’d tell him it was because of his past...that he had a need to make things right.
This was different, though. And, howdy-do, it was a good thing his mother was not in his mind, because he didn’t want her to be privy to his suddenly carnal thoughts.
Not only did he not want to let go of Mary’s hand, he wanted to lean across the table and kiss her, long and hard. Her lips had been calling to him ever since she had slipped against him when she fainted.
“Joe,” she murmured. It was not his imagination that she sounded as suddenly breathless as he was. “The baby.”
While he had been lost in a sudden yearning for Mary, Amelia’s cry had upped in urgency.
“You look done in, Mary, and I reckon the children will be up in a few hours wanting breakfast. Get some sleep. I’ll tend the baby.”
He snatched up the bottle, then walked into the parlor. Feminine footsteps padded behind him.
Settling onto the couch, he picked Amelia up. The poor little mite pushed the nipple of the bottle around with her tongue for a moment. Probably wasn’t used to feeding from cold rubber.
“Try this,” Mary said. Settling beside him on the couch, she covered his hand as he held the bottle, guiding and turning until the baby latched on. “Oh, my goodness, you are a hungry little thing.”
“Appreciate the help, Mary. I’ve bottle-fed calves, but they’re not so particular about what they suckle from.” He missed the smooth heat of her fingers when she plucked them away. “I can handle it from here. Go on up to bed.”
“I’ll sit a spell if you don’t mind. Babies just grow so fast. A body’s got to look her fill while she can.”
The last thing he minded was to have Mary sitting on the couch beside him. Seemed as though he couldn’t get enough of the warmth radiating from her body, how it mingled with his.
The pair of them weren’t touching, but they might as well have been, for all the—what he could only describe as—anticipation arcing between them. He wondered if she felt it, too.
It didn’t take long for Amelia to finish the bottle and drift into a contented doze.
“You’ll need to burp her.” Mary lifted the baby from his arms, then settled her on his shoulder. “Just pat her back until...oh, my...until she does that.”
“She ought to be content for a while now,” he said.
“A few hours, at least.”
Mary stood up. So did he.
“Well, then,” she said, her gaze lingering on Amelia for a moment, then shifting to him.
Something inside him danced a dizzy jig. He had the oddest sensation about her...that he and Mary were bound somehow.
The idea was unsettling. Fate...predestination? It made his head swim that he felt this way toward a woman he’d only just met. It made no logical sense.
“I guess I’ll go up to bed,” Mary said.
Briefly, she stroked Amelia’s hair, then she turned and walked toward the stairway. He watched her go while he rocked the infant to and fro, more than a little distracted.
By Mary’s lithe form and her graceful movements...by that mysterious something tugging at his heart.
He supposed it wasn’t proper to take notice of how her hips swayed under her nightclothes, how her backside seemed sweet and round, but he was only a man and therefore bound by the laws of nature to notice.
“Joe.” She spun about on the third stair, her robe flaring about her ankles and revealing pretty pink toes. “I was just wondering if...that is, I thought maybe...”
“What is it?” She had something to say but seemed shy in voicing it. He figured he knew what it was. “If you’re worried about having a stranger in the house, I can sleep in the barn.”
If he could find his way there in this blizzard.
Even in the dim ligh
t of the fading fire, he saw her blush. That high coloring sure did make her look pretty.
“It’s not that. The parsonage is open to all.” She curled her fingers in the fabric of her robe. “I was just thinking that if you are married, your wife must be worried.”
“I’m not married...are you?”
She shook her head, turned and dashed up the stairs, those lovely round hips churning.
Yes, sir, it was a damn good thing that his mother could not get into his mind.
* * *
Mary closed the door to her bedroom and, leaning against it, tried to catch her breath.
Heat rolled off her in waves. She had never said anything more embarrassing in her life. She had tried to be subtle about asking, but her roundabout way had been so very obvious. Just because she desperately wanted to know something, that didn’t mean that she had to ask.
She ought to have let it come up naturally in conversation, not just let her heart come blurting out of her mouth.
How would she ever face Joe over breakfast? He would correctly assume that there was only one reason she would ask that question, and that was because she was interested in him in a special way.
Which she was.
That, however, did not mean she could follow that interest. No, indeed. She had nothing to offer a man. Especially a man like Joe, who, it seemed, had everything to offer some lucky woman.
Mary threw herself belly first onto her bed, then pounded the mattress with her fists.
What had made her give in to imagining a life that could never be hers? A husband? His babies?
Silly, silly fool. Pa had tried to warn her.
Flopping over on her back, she stared at the ceiling and listened to her bedroom window rattle perilously in the wind.
It was the baby...that had to be it. Amelia had stirred up motherly yearnings in her, which in turn led to dreams of—
She shook her head, frustrated at her inability to tuck her emotions neatly into place.
Once the child found a home, Mary’s turmoil would settle. Raising other folks’ children for however brief periods of time would once again fulfill her needs.
She would have sighed, relieved at settling that issue in her mind, but it was Joe’s face, not Amelia’s, that filled her dreams as she drifted off to sleep.
Dreaming of a Western Christmas: His Christmas BelleThe Cowboy of Christmas PastSnowbound with the Cowboy Page 21
