скачать книгу бесплатно
“Hold up, half-pint.”
In the doorway stood the man who’d saved the baby’s life the night before. Maggie pushed herself up, bracing her back on the headboard and holding on to the baby. Her body ached in places she never knew could hurt.
He came into the room carrying two more plates of food. He held the smaller plate out as if offering it to Dinah. “I brought you your own breakfast.”
Dinah returned the strip of bacon to Maggie’s plate and scooted from the bed. She hurried around the end to take her plate. “Thank you.”
He brushed his hand across the top of her blond head. “My pleasure.” His blue gaze swung toward Maggie. “I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home in your kitchen.”
She watched as he walked to the rocker at the foot of the bed. He pulled two forks from his back pocket, handed one to Dinah and then eased into the rocker. Dinah followed and sat at his feet.
Maggie frowned. Dinah wasn’t the type to take to a stranger as she was doing with this man. Was she infatuated with him because he’d saved the baby’s life and fixed them breakfast?
He said a quick prayer over the food and then looked up at her. His piercing blue eyes met hers. He waved his fork in the direction of the food. “You should probably eat it while it’s hot.”
She pulled the plate and fork to her. “Um, who are you?” Maggie set the plate on the edge of the bed. The fact that he’d prayed over the food surprised her. She’d not been much for going into town for church, and Jack had never shown an interest either. Had God really answered her prayers last night and sent a godly man to save her baby’s life?
“Oh, I’m sorry. Name’s Clayton Young. I’m the new Pony Express station manager. I suppose I should have introduced myself last night, but I forgot with the urgency of the situation and all.” He shoveled egg into his mouth.
Maggie didn’t know what to say to that, so instead replied, “Thank you for saving the baby.”
Clayton grinned. “Thank God, ma’am. He’s the one who saved the boy. I was just the instrument He used.” He winked at Dinah. “Isn’t that right, half-pint?”
Dinah smiled around a mouthful of eggs and nodded happily.
Maggie studied the pair. It was as if they shared a secret. She sampled the bacon. It was good. Mr. Young seemed to be able to fry meat as well as save babies.
“Have you come up with a name for the little tyke?” Clayton Young asked.
Her gaze moved to the infant. He needed a name, but Maggie didn’t know what to call him. She’d been struggling with that for a couple of months now. Jack might have liked the boy named after him, but Maggie didn’t want to call him Jack Jr. She’d thought about the men in her life. Her father’s name was Paul, but he wasn’t anything like the apostle. That name would only conjure up bitter memories of the man who’d run off with another woman and left her mother heartbroken. She’d not known her grandfathers so had no names to choose from there.
Clayton cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure there is no rush.”
Maggie looked up at him. The only man who’d ever done anything for her was a total stranger, and he sat across the room from her. “Maybe I’ll name him Clayton, after you.”
Clayton shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” Dinah asked.
He set his now-empty plate on the floor. “Well, every time his mother would call, ‘Clayton!’ I’d come a-runnin’. When boys are little their mamas have to call their names a lot.”
“Oh.” Dinah looked to Maggie. “I like the name James.”
Maggie looked down on her newborn’s sweet face. His lips were puckered in sleep. “What do you think of the name James, baby?” His eyes opened and he yawned.
Dinah clapped her hands. “He likes it.”
Maggie snuggled the baby’s face and felt his small lips move across her skin. He smelled sweet and warm. She looked up with a grin that quickly faded. Mr. Young looked as if he’d swallowed a bug. “What’s the matter, Mr. Young? Do you not like the name James?” She didn’t know why it mattered to her if he liked the name or not, but it did.
“I like it just fine.”
Dinah reached over and took his hand in hers. “Then why do you have that frowny face?” she asked.
He grinned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to have a frowny face. It’s just that my full name is Clayton James Young.”
Maggie didn’t know what to think when the baby kicked his legs and made what to every new mother sounds like a happy noise. “If you don’t want me to name him...”
“No, it seems the little man likes his new name. If you want to call him James, that’s all right with me.” He stood and collected his and Dinah’s plates. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have a kitchen to clean up and a stew to get on the stove. Then I’m going into town to get the doctor so he can look over baby James.” He nodded once and then left the room.
Maggie heard his boots clomp down the stairs. She looked to Dinah, who stood by the door watching him leave. “Dinah, come here for a moment.”
Dinah hurried to her bedside. “Do you want me to help you get dressed, Maggie?”
Maggie shook her head. The baby began to fuss for breakfast. She swung her legs to the edge of the bed and then stood slowly. “No, I’m curious. You seem to like Mr. Young.”
Dinah nodded. “He’s a nice man.”
She eased into the rocker. “What makes you say that?” Maggie moved the now-howling baby to a more comfortable position. He immediately stopped crying with the warmth of breakfast filling his small tummy.
“He saved baby James and rocked me to sleep last night.”
Maggie’s head came up as concern filled her heart. Men weren’t to be trusted, so why had he taken it upon himself to comfort Dinah? “He did?”
“Uh-huh. I was scared and Mr. Young picked me up and rocked me while I cried. I went to sleep and he put me in bed with you.” Dinah smiled. “He told me everything was going to be all right. And it is.” Dinah jumped on the bed. Her smile filled the room.
Maggie rocked the baby. Not only had he saved James, but he’d also soothed Dinah’s fears. He’d made them all breakfast and was already planning a trip to town to bring back the doctor. What kind of man was Clayton James Young? Unfamiliar words whispered through her heart: the kind who took care of the people around him.
She didn’t need that kind of man in her life. He’d turn out just like all the others who had let her down. Maggie refused to be hurt again, so she hardened her heart against Clayton Young.
Maggie cuddled the baby close. Her job was to make sure that she could hold on to baby James’s ranch. Gus Fillmore, her late husband’s cousin, had insisted on becoming the ranch manager and she’d let him because he’d promised to keep her up-to-date on the running of the ranch. Maggie’s new fear was that he’d soon begin to demand ownership. She couldn’t allow that. With Jack’s dying breath, he’d asked her to make sure baby James would inherit the ranch, and she’d promised to do just that. It was a promise she intended to keep.
Chapter Two (#u6ecfeaa6-52a6-5793-ba54-41ff99cbd19a)
Clayton made his way out to the barn. There were no riders scheduled for arrival so he felt all right about going to town to get the doctor. But he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Maggie, Dinah and the baby alone. His gaze moved about the front yard once more. Still no ranch hands. Where was everyone?
He’d been so tired the night before that all he’d managed to do was put the horses away and return to the house. He’d checked on Maggie and the children then returned downstairs, where he’d fallen asleep on the settee. Clayton hadn’t seen anyone other than Maggie and the children since his arrival.
The trip to town could wait a few more minutes. He entered the barn and saw that the horses had already been fed and watered. In a matter of minutes, Clayton saddled his horse and headed out to find the ranch hands.
It didn’t take long to spot two men working on the south fence. They were both bent over when he rode up. “Morning.” Clayton stopped Bones and leaned on his saddle horn.
“Morning. You must be the new Pony Express manager.”
The taller man took his hat off and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“That I am. I’m looking for the foreman.”
“I’m Gus Fillmore.” The shorter of the two men stood up. He shaded his eyes as he looked up at Clayton. “What can I do for you, Mr. Young?”
“To start with, you can call me Clayton.” Clayton extended his hand.
Gus took it and squeezed hard, then released Clayton’s hand. “We’re kind of busy here, Clayton.” He indicated the fence behind him.
Clayton nodded. “I can see that.” He paused until he had the man’s full attention then asked, “Did you know that Mrs. Fillmore had the baby last night?”
“Nope.” Gus motioned for the other cowboy to get back to working on the fence. “Maggie’s family ways are no concern of mine.”
“That so?” Clayton watched as the two men returned to their work. How could Gus not think that his boss having a baby didn’t concern him? And since they had the same last name, Clayton knew they were kin by marriage, so why didn’t Jack’s relative care about his wife?
“Yep. This ranch is my only concern.” He grunted as he lifted a log into place.
Clayton shifted in the saddle. “What if she’d had complications?”
Gus turned to eye him. “You a doctor or something?”
“Not today. But I am concerned that no one was around when Maggie was having her baby.”
Gus snorted rudely. “Look, Young. My job is to run the ranch, yours is to run the Pony Express, and Maggie is none of our concern.”
“I see. So, if she had died in childbirth?”
Gus shrugged and then spit. “Then we would have buried her and continued on with the running of this ranch.” He locked eyes with Clayton. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a job to do.”
Clayton nodded. He turned the horse back toward the ranch house. Gus Fillmore had made it clear he didn’t care what happened to Maggie but that he did care about what happened to the ranch. If Maggie had died giving birth to baby James, would Gus have claimed the ranch as his? Clayton was pretty sure the callous, uncaring man would have done just that.
Clayton thought about the situation at the ranch. His concerns for Maggie and the children’s welfare grew. He couldn’t help but wonder if Gus had deliberately made sure no one would be around when Maggie went into labor. Had the man been hoping she’d die giving birth?
* * *
Maggie moved slowly about the kitchen. Coming down the stairs had taken much longer than ever before. She’d not expected to be quite this sore after having the baby.
“You all right?” Dinah asked. Worry etched her little face.
Maggie smiled at her little sister. “I’m fine. I just had a baby and I’m still a little sore.”
“Oh.” Dinah climbed up on one of the chairs at the table. “Are you sure you can make bread?”
Maggie nodded. “It’s bread-baking day. I can do it.” She wrapped James tightly in a blanket and laid him in an oval washtub on the table in front of Dinah. “Keep an eye on the baby. If he wakes up tell me, all right?”
Dinah stood up on the seat. “I’ll watch him real good, Sissy.”
Her smile widened at the seriousness in Dinah’s voice. “I know you will, sweetie. Thank you.” She walked to the cabinet and pulled out a tin of beans. “Here, Dinah, why don’t you make sets of five beans? Be sure and pull out all the rocks and dirt clods.”
“All right, Sissy. I like playing with the beans.” Dinah took them and began sorting them. It seemed she’d decided to separate them by color and size today.
Maggie grinned, happy that Dinah was unaware she was learning how to count and doing a simple chore at the same time. Grabbing a tin scoop, she heaped flour along with two generous pinches of salt into a large creamware bowl. Maggie then pressed her fingers into the mound of flour mixture and dug out a hole. After brushing her hands on her apron, she reached into the pie safe and pinched off a corner of yeast, crumbling the moist leaven into the center of the flour. With the milk properly scalded, she added a spoonful of bacon grease, stirring until the ingredients melted together.
While the mixture cooled, she wiped down the counter with a damp rag, set a bowl in front of Dinah to put her sorted beans into and then returned to her baking. She gently tapped the side of the pan to ensure a lukewarm temperature, then poured the thickened milk into the well of flour. Waiting for the yeast to dissolve, she gradually added a generous handful of sugar.
Weariness eased into her sore muscles as she worked. She forced her thoughts away from her discomfort and focused her attention on the liquid mixture foaming merrily in the center of the flour. Satisfied she’d waited long enough for the yeast to develop, Maggie folded in the dry ingredients.
Bread-baking day was her favorite day of the week. She loved the silky texture of the flour, the way the dough gradually came together beneath the heels of her hands to form a smooth, flexible ball. The way the yeast smelled reminded her of days spent in the kitchen with her mother before their world fell apart, happy and comforting. She put the dough into pans and then slid the two loaves into the oven.
“Baby James is awake, Sissy.” Dinah rubbed the baby’s head.
“Thank you, Dinah.” Maggie lowered herself into the chair beside her sister and picked the baby up out of the washtub. The growing fatigue of the simple action of making bread pulled her to slump in the chair. She pressed the baby to her chest. He snuggled into her neck, bringing a sweet feeling of deep love for the infant.
“Is he hungry again?” Dinah asked. She studied the small rows of beans in front of her.
Maggie checked the baby’s diaper. He was still dry. She cuddled him close and leaned her head back as he nursed. Her eyes felt heavy, so she closed them. She’d just rest them a little while the bread baked.
“Sissy?”
Maggie jerked awake. How long had she been sleeping? The baby rested in her arms. “I’m sorry, Dinah. I fell asleep.” The smell of baking bread filled the small kitchen.
“I think the bread is finished.” Dinah stood in front of the stove holding a dish towel.
She tucked the blanket around the baby once more and placed him in the washtub. Her back ached as she stood. “You’re right. It is ready to come out.” Maggie pulled the bread from the oven and sighed. “Dinah, I think I’ll take the baby and go lie down.”
“You want me to do the dishes?” Dinah asked.
“No, sweetie. Why don’t you come upstairs with me? You can play with your doll and blocks while I take a nap.” She tugged on the girl’s ponytail. “Then we’ll get up and put those beans on to boil.”
Dinah put the beans into the bowl Maggie had supplied earlier. She yawned. “Maggie, how come baby James sleeps so much?”
“He’s new to the world. He’s going to be doing a lot of growing, so he needs to sleep. You used to sleep a lot, too.”
Carrying the baby, Maggie made her way back up the stairs, each step painful and slow. Dinah tagged along behind her. “You remember when I was a baby?”
“It was only five short years ago,” Maggie reminded her. She continued placing one foot in front of the other until she finally reached the top of the stairs.
The front door opened below them. Maggie turned to see who had entered her house. Gus stepped inside. She frowned. When had Gus become so bold as to enter without knocking?
“Aw, Maggie. It’s good to see you are up. I take it the baby is in good health?” Gus walked across the room and stopped at the foot of the stairs.
Maggie tightened her hold on the baby. “Yes. What did you come to the house for, Gus?”
He laughed. “Always getting straight to the point, huh, Maggie?”
She didn’t answer him. Maggie waited for him to continue. From experience, she knew he’d continue whether she answered or not.
“Now that the baby is here, you have even less time to invest in the ranch. Sell it to me, Maggie. I’ll give you a good price and you and the kids will be able to live a life of comfort for years to come.” He advanced farther up the stairs.
Dinah hid behind Maggie’s skirt.
Maggie understood the little girl’s fear. Most often Gus’s eyes blazed his anger at whatever situation they were confronted with, but today, cunning and desire to own the Fillmore Ranch shone clear as day. She shook her head. “Thank you, Gus. I’m sure that your offer would be generous, but I promised to keep the land for baby James. I can’t sell it.”
His jaw clenched. “Jack is dead. He’ll never know if you kept your word or not.” He leaned a hip on the stair railing.
