She blinked. “Due date? I thought that term was only used for women who are expecting, not someone who is...” She couldn’t say the word. Not yet. She swallowed. “Someone who has so little time left as I do.”
Doc Williams straightened in his chair and peered through his glasses at her as alarm filled his distinguished features. “Mrs. Tucker, I never meant to give you the impression... I thought you already knew about your condition and were just coming to me for confirmation.”
“I was.”
“No. I don’t think you understand.” He removed his glasses and took her hand. “Seven months from now you’re going to deliver a baby.”
“A baby?” The world spun. If not for the man holding her hand, she might have toppled right off his examining table onto the floor. “That’s impossible.”
“I assure you it is not only possible but inevitable.”
“No. There must be some other explanation.” She told him of her riding accident and the doctor’s prognosis afterward.
He listened intently, alternately nodding and frowning until she finished. “I see. Well, your body doesn’t lie. It has all the symptoms of a woman in the family way. I am quite sure your family doctor’s prognosis has been proven most decidedly wrong.”
“I don’t understand how that could be possible. He was so certain. As certain as you are now.”
“The female body remains mostly a mystery to those practicing medical science. Unfortunately, that can breed a level of what I can only describe as ignorance in even the most respected of doctors. Some think that recklessness or personal misbehavior is the main cause of infertility in ladies. It would seem that your family doctor subscribed to that school of thought.”
“You don’t think that’s the case?”
He shook his head. “The numbness and pain you described that took place following your accident aren’t unusual for such trauma. From your description, it sounds as though those feelings went away with the rest of the bruises you acquired in your fall. You’ve never missed a month until recently, right?”
“Right.”
He shrugged as though that settled everything. “It seems to me that everything is progressing normally. We’ll keep a close eye on you to make sure there aren’t complications. However, I don’t anticipate there being any. You are a healthy young woman who is about to welcome her first child.”
She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, couldn’t seem to get past the shock. “I’m going to have a baby.”
Doc Williams grinned as he helped her down from the examining table. “Congratulations, Mrs. Tucker.”
“Thank you.” She walked from his office into the waiting room in a daze. She blinked, realizing Charlotte had rushed forward to meet her. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. Did you say something?”
Helen’s in-laws had returned to Peppin with the children only a week after their train had pulled out of town. Wade said they’d realized if they were essentially going to have to start over, they ought to do it here in Peppin with their family. Quinn had been ecstatic and so had Helen. The two families were constantly in and out of each other’s houses, sharing meals and laughter. Charlotte had become one of Helen’s dearest friends. That was why Helen had asked her sister-in-law to accompany her to the doctor without revealing the reason for the Saturday-morning appointment.
Charlotte watched her in concern as she looped her arm through Helen’s and guided her out the door. “I asked if you were all right. You looked so scared when you went in and now you look sort of stunned.”
“I am stunned.” They paused beside the wagon Helen had parked outside the doctor’s office. “I’m fine, though. Better than fine. I...I need to go home. I need to tell Quinn.”
A knowing smile slowly tipped Charlotte’s lips. “I see. Are you sure you’re up to driving right now?”
“Yes. Oh, Charlotte.” She hugged her friend tightly then left her in the dust. Helen barely made it out of town before she let out a very unladylike squeal of joy. “I’m having a baby. I’m having a baby! Thank You, God! Thank You! Thank You! Oh, I can’t wait to see Quinn’s face when I tell him.”
There was another squeal, some laughter and a hundred more “thank-Yous” before she set the brake outside her house. She forced herself to pull in a calming breath, which had absolutely no effect before she flew up the porch steps into the cabin. The door shut behind her with a bang. Pulling off her gloves and shrugging out of her coat, she tossed them aside. “Where, oh, where is my Bear?”
“Right where you left him,” Quinn called back.
She followed his voice to the girls’ old room, which had been converted into a study with an ever-growing library. He’d added a fireplace to the wall the room shared with their bedroom so it was nice and warm. As usual, rather than sitting at the rolltop desk or in one of the two comfortable chairs, he’d stretched out on the thick rug in front of the hearth. Before he could stand to greet her, she knelt behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a quick hug. “Have you been reading all this time?”
He caught her arm to keep her there as he sat up then glanced at the clock on the mantel. “I guess so. With no need for a winter crop, since the fall harvest went so well, I have a lot of time to improve my mind. Besides, what else was I supposed to do left all by my lonesome for ages?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been gone little more than an hour.”
“Felt like ages.” He lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Listen to this. It made me think of you. It was written by a fellow named Marlowe. ‘Come live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That hills and valleys, dale and field...’”
It wasn’t very surprising that a man who loved music would find an affinity for poetry. Still, it was a delightful development. Speaking of delightful developments, she had one of her own to share if she could just get his nose out of that book. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, hoping it would make his dimple appear. It did, so she did it again. He snapped the book closed, snagged her waist and brought her around so that her back rested against his propped-up knee. He’d perfected the smoldering look that had originated almost a year ago and had no qualms about using it on her now. “You are the most distracting woman.”
He kissed her and she got a little distracted herself until he finally let her breathe again. She sat up but didn’t go far. “Quinn, I went into town to see the doctor.”
The fire in his blue eyes banked in concern. They’d both been afraid to speak of the frequent episodes of what she now knew was merely morning sickness until now. “What did he say?”
“He said...” Her fingers traced the curve of his jaw as her lips betrayed her serious tone with a smile. “You and I are going to have a baby.”
His mouth dropped open even as his brow furrowed in confusion. He shook his head. “That can’t be right.”
“That’s what I told him.” She filled him in on Doc Williams’s explanation for her previous diagnosis and his expectation that she’d have a normal pregnancy.
Quinn still looked a little stunned when she finished. He blinked, searched her gaze. “Are you serious? We’re really going to have a baby?”
“I’m serious. You’re going to be a father.”
Shock faded to awe. His mouth opened and closed without him finding any words. Standing, he lifted her up with him then tugged her into his embrace. She tried to pull back to see his face, but he wouldn’t let her go even that much. She mumbled into his chest. “Are you happy?”
She felt him nod.
She giggled. “Are you sure?”
He caught her face in his hands and kissed her. Cradling her cheek, he stared into her eyes with a look so joyful, so loving that it took her breath away. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I can’t wait to meet our baby.
” He pulled her close again. His tone turned deep and reverent. “I don’t know what to say except thank You, Lord, for answering my prayer and blessing me beyond anything I could have imagined.”
She joined in from the depths of her heart. “Amen.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE DADDY LIST by DeWanna Pace.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Peppin, Texas! I hope you’re feeling at home here. This is the fourth book I’ve written in this sweet little town. Be sure to look for the other three if you haven’t read them yet. There will be more to come as the Bachelor List brings love, trouble and a whole lot of adventure to every hand that holds it. If you don’t know how the list started, you’ll find its origin in Ellie and Lawson’s story, A Texas-Made Match.
I hope that Helen and Quinn’s story ministered to you as much as it did to me while I was writing it. This wasn’t an easy story for me to tell because it hit close to home. Like Quinn, I struggled for much of my life under the weighty misimpression that I was, as he might say, “not a smart person.” I worked hard in school to try to prove to myself over and over again that it wasn’t true. That hard work paid off when I graduated summa cum laude after receiving awards for being an “Exemplary All-Round Student” at the university and the “Outstanding Student” in my major. I thought surely all of that would be enough to prove to myself that I wasn’t dumb. Imagine my surprise when it wasn’t.
Suddenly, I realized I was allowing the bad thoughts running through my head to tell me who and what I was, so I stopped buying into them. I no longer need to prove my intelligence to anyone—including myself—because I found out the truth about my identity. It is not based on the lies I accepted, my efforts to prove those lies wrong or accolades from others, no matter how grateful I still am for them. My identity is based on one thing—God’s love for me. He sees me through that love along with His grace and forgiveness. How He sees me is who I am. End of story. The same is true for you. I hope this story was an encouraging reminder of that.
If you’d like to share your thoughts about the story, you can email me directly at [email protected]. You can also check out my website at NoelleMarchand.com for updates and a list of my backlist books. Or connect with me on Facebook, Goodreads, Twitter or Pinterest. I’d love to hear from you!
In His grace,
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.
You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.
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Chapter One
Spring, 1868
Keeping her promise would wear Daisy Trumbo out before this was all over with, but keep it she would. With long strides she hurried down the planked sidewalk that led from the mercantile, where she’d been stocking up on supplies. According to a handful of outraged citizens, her seven-year-old daughter was over at the bank holding men hostage with a gun.
Daisy had agreed to consider every man her child chose to interview in the quest to gain a new father, but holding them prisoner until each passed or failed inspection was simply taking her newfound mission too far.
Where in this wild stretch of Texas had Ollie gotten her hands on a gun?
Daisy broke into a run, the hem of her skirt threatening to tangle with her long legs. If she managed to trip she’d leave these widow’s weeds in the dust so fast she’d show up in nothing but her bloomers. That would give her neighbors something to talk about.
She reached her destination without mishap. From the number of horses hitched outside the establishment, the banker had an unusual amount of customers this morning. Saturday often brought cowhands into town to collect their pay and waste it in the saloons. She’d been so busy at the mercantile she hadn’t noticed if the overland stage had already arrived and brought in more visitors to High Plains. Just how many hostages were involved? she wondered.
“Protect my child from herself, Lord,” Daisy whispered as she forced down panic. No need to burst through the door and startle anyone. That might get someone hurt. Instead, Daisy dusted her skirt, adjusted her bonnet and squarely braced her shoulders for the trouble ahead. Her fingers shook as she reached for the doorknob.
She was tall enough to see above the curtains that covered the door and front windows. From the sight of raised palms, her daughter still had the weapon aimed at somebody.
Please make these men the forgiving sort, Daisy prayed.
“Hand that gun to the banker immediately, Olivia Jane Trumbo,” she ordered, opening the door, “or you’re going to get a good talking-to all the way ho—” She stumbled as the door swung open faster than she had pushed it.
A dark-haired, blue-eyed woman stood there, blocking Daisy’s way and flicking open a lace fan held in one hand. Two more steps corrected the awkward momentum that almost spilled Daisy, giving her a whiff of fragrance that smelled like a spring breeze dancing through a meadow of wildflowers. A pleasant surprise amid the stuffiness of too many warm bodies gathered in one place.
“Your name, please?” asked the lady in a cultured voice sounding younger than her appearance. Dressed in a tea gown the blue of her eyes, her hair swept up in some fancy do, she seemed overdressed for a simple visit to the bank. “That little hoodlum told me not to let anyone in here but her mother.”
“That would be me,” Daisy informed her, wishing she had taken a little more time with her appearance this morning, “and she’s no hoodlum. Olivia just sometimes goes about things different from most folks.”
This was as much her fault as Ollie’s. She’d wanted Ollie to be older before she learned about the death of her father, but Ollie had started asking questions about Knox several months ago. Someone had obviously opened the subject of his death up for discussion. Her child finally asked why she still wore widow’s weeds since Old Miz Jenkins said the proper mourning period should be only two years, not three. Daisy simply replied that the material was still sturdy and they didn’t need to be wasteful.
Since finding out about her daddy, Ollie had a burr under her saddle, insisting she didn’t want to be hugged on too much. Daisy tended to give her daughter time on her own so she wouldn’t feel overprotected or smothered with attention. Too much time this morning had allowed the seven-year-old to get her hands on a gun and arrive at this crazy hostage scheme.
“Olivia Jane, where did you get that gun?” Daisy demanded.
“Better step aside and let her in,” Ollie warned, nodding her honey-colored head. “She used my gettin’-in-trouble name.”
Daisy moved past the beautiful lady and around some baggage next to the door.
“Did you say her last name is Trumbo? Were the two of you related to Knox Trumbo?” asked the stern-faced man who stood by himself to the left of the teller’s cage. He started to edge closer, his forehead furrowed as his gaze swept Daisy from hem to bonnet.
On a different day, she might have taken the time to study him closer, admiring his good grooming and such, but all she could do was concentrate on reaching her daughter’s side rather than answering him.
“They’re his widow and child,” informed the banker behind the teller’s cage. “Daisy and Olivia.”
Ollie waved the gun at the woman with the fan. “Don’t move any closer, mister, or I might accidentally hurt yo
ur lady friend here. It won’t take Mama but a minute to make up her mind about all you fellas then I’ll let’cha go. If she likes you, you can talk to her plenty in a minute.”
The seven-year-old’s head rose then fell as she took in the sight of him from hat to boot tip. “She’s got a real fondness for clean people, though. I should know. I got dirty bathwater to prove it all the time.” Ollie nodded toward the cowboys standing to the right of the cage. “And since you’re the only fella wearing Sunday clean, ’cept Sam, you got a pretty good chance out of all of ya to get on my list. Sam don’t count, though. He’s the banker. He’s got to dress good.”
Daisy cringed at her daughter’s outspokenness.
The clean-looking man didn’t back up the few steps he’d gained but seemed willing to wait her out. Cautious, Daisy decided. A wise man.
“Take a quick look, Mama, then I’ll be ready for some sense.” Ollie’s gaze locked with Daisy’s and confirmed that she understood totally the kind of talking-to she was about to get from her mother.
Daisy realized Ollie was deliberately avoiding an answer about the gun, so she went ahead and studied the well-groomed stranger long enough to make sure he meant no harm to Ollie. He dressed like a businessman and clearly spent more of his hours indoors than out, but broad shoulders and his muscular frame appeared strong enough to handle himself if someone wronged him. She hoped to end this situation before anything such as that took place.
“The sooner you and your daughter are finished, ma’am—” his voice held a timbre deep and resonant, making her wonder from what part of the country it had been cultivated “—the sooner my sister can return to my side and we can go about our business.”
That put a whole new light on his intentions. Daisy couldn’t fault him for wanting to protect his own. She respected such a man and would have shown him a friendlier disposition if they weren’t in such tense circumstances.
The Texan's Inherited Family Page 23
