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This time he didn’t hesitate. “Dear Lord, if you’re looking down on us, now would be a good time for some help.”
“Amen,” JoBeth murmured.
Elizabeth’s body stiffened.
“You’re almost there,” he soothed. “You can do this, Elizabeth. You’re almost done.”
Curling forward, she squeezed his hand, her whole body straining with effort. Her agonizing shout of pain ripped through him like a bullet.
“Oh, my goodness,” Jo cried. “It’s a girl. It’s a girl, Mrs. Cole! You have a beautiful girl.”
Following her announcement, a heavy silence filled the room. Jack waited, hearing nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. Jo carefully wiped the child dry with a towel. Her worried gaze met his over Elizabeth’s head. At the stricken message in her eyes, his heart seized.
The bundle squirmed. A lusty squall exploded from the infant, startling them all into relieved laughter.
Jo carefully placed the baby on Elizabeth’s chest. The widow cradled her bellowing child, laughing and crying at the same time. “She’s so beautiful.” Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, catching his gaze. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
His eyes stung. He cleared his throat, recalling all the times he’d teased his older brothers for their weeping and wailing every time a niece or nephew was born. He’d never understood the vulnerable emotions those wet, froglike creatures inspired. Seeing Elizabeth’s joy, her newborn, the miracle of life where there once was none, something in his chest shifted.
“Yes,” he said, his voice husky. “She’s beautiful.”
While the two women laughed, awkwardly hugging each other over the baby, the walls crowded in around him. The air in the room turned dank and suffocating. His nerves tingled, warning him of an attack. He needed to escape.
This time, though, he feared the danger rested within his own heart.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth awoke in darkness to the clang of pots and pans and the mouth-watering aroma of frying bacon. Stiff and sore, she gingerly rolled to her side to check on the baby. The surge of energy she’d experienced immediately following the birth had plummeted soon after. A rare fatigue had overcome her, sapping her of strength and leaving her weak and listless.
Barely able to keep her eyes open, she’d mustered just enough energy to change out of her ruined dress with Jo’s assistance. Her legs had proven too weak to hold her weight, so Mr. Elder had assisted her onto the bed. Silent and flushed red from his neck to his ears, he’d lifted her with treasured care.
He’d lingered to help Jo change the linens and tidy up the room, both of them waging a hushed, muttering war on the proper way to accomplish even the most minuscule task. Each time the Ranger had chanced a glance at Elizabeth, his cheeks had darkened to such a deep crimson, she’d feared he would burst into flames.
After ensuring the newborn was settled, a gown lovingly drawn over her body and crocheted yellow booties covering her feet, Elizabeth’s two helpers had left mother and daughter alone in the hushed glow and hiss of kerosene lamps.
The infant had nursed voraciously, then stretched and yawned before falling into the peaceful slumber afforded only the very young, and the very old. Cocooned in a blanket of serene contentment, Elizabeth had been reluctant to surrender her gift from God. She’d dozed off with the infant cradled in her arms, her daughter’s gentle breath whispering against her neck.
Swaddled tightly, the baby now rested beside the bed in a drawer Jo had extracted from the dresser and lined with blankets. Sighing, Elizabeth extended her hand over the edge of the mattress. She brushed the backs of her fingers over the supple, downy softness of the baby’s cheek, then buried them in the shock of dark hair covering her head.
“How did I create something so perfect? So beautiful?” she whispered. “Thank you, Lord, for this is Your work.”
Her heart swelled. Now more than ever, she needed to be strong. The awesome burden of responsibility weighed upon Elizabeth alone. Her daughter’s survival in this wild, untamed land was at the mercy of her mother’s courage. The prairie was brutal, especially for women and children.
Elizabeth glanced toward the darkened window, the glass panes frosted over like sugared candy. A tangle of memories pulled her into the past.
Her first month in Kansas, she’d stumbled between a cow and her calf. The animal had butted her to the ground, knocking the wind from her lungs. Will had been angry at her carelessness, chastising her for coming between a mother and her offspring. Elizabeth finally understood his warning.
The changes in her life over such a short time threatened to overwhelm her. In one short year, she’d been a wife, a widow and a mother. Last November she’d married Will after a three-week-long whirlwind courtship in New York and moved West. Three months later she was pregnant and three months after that Will was dead. The entire year had brought her full circle to this new life.
She might not know anything about raising children, but she loved her daughter already, had loved her since that first moment she’d felt the baby stirring in her womb. She’d die to save her child.
A child who currently had no name.
Elizabeth pressed her numb hands against cheeks burning with shame. How could she have been so thoughtless? She’d fallen asleep without naming her baby.
A vague memory took shape, Mr. Elder leaning over the infant, running his index finger reverently over the baby’s cheek. “We’ll name you tomorrow,” he’d said. “When your mother has rested.”
Gracious. Not only had she failed to name her child, she’d abandoned poor Jo to deal with the Ranger, alone.
So much for courage and fortitude.
She’d abandoned those dearest to her to fend for themselves—while she slept.
A lump of regret clogged her throat. “Oh, baby,” Elizabeth sighed. “What a mother you have.”
She caught the sounds of someone puttering in the kitchen, whistling a merry tune. Perhaps she was being too hard on herself. Nothing awful could have happened for Jo to be so cheerful. With the baby nestled snuggly in her makeshift bed, and Jo busy in the kitchen, no one had suffered unduly for Elizabeth’s absence. After all, she’d just delivered a baby. An exhausting task, to be sure.
As for their uninvited guest, considering the late hour, Mr. Elder was probably long gone. Once a man wanted to leave, no one could stop him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was halfway to Texas already.
A twinge of loss stirred up her turbulent emotions. She recalled the way he’d held her hand, the encouraging words he’d murmured. How odd to think she’d never see him again.
She pressed a fist against her mouth to stifle uncontrollable sobs, alarmed by her inability to hold back the tears. She never cried, ever. Not when her father had died, not when she’d been escorted to the orphanage by two somber nuns while her mother looked on, not even when Will had left her for good. Yet over the past few days she’d been nothing but a watering pot.
Determined to quell the flood of emotion, she swiped at her cheeks. Weak women did not survive. Her baby was depending on her. She’d had enough trouble after Will’s death, she couldn’t let down her guard.
Heavy footsteps approached the door. A tentative knock sounded. “Are you all right?” a male voice called.
Her heart flipped. She absently smoothed her hair and tugged her heavy wrapper higher over her neck. Why was Mr. Elder still here? Had the weather changed for the worse? Had something happened to Jo?
She lifted the baby from her cozy nest, and cradled the bundle against her chest. “I’ll be right out,” she called, unable to disguise the quiver in her voice.
The infant’s cupid-bow mouth opened and closed in a yawn, her tongue working. Elizabeth pressed her cheek against the baby’s forehead, willing herself to be strong. Tears escaped her tightly clenched eyes, dripping down her cheeks. Frightened by her lack of control, she bit her lip. Another telling sob slipped out.
The doorknob rattled. “You don’t sound all right.”
A long pause followed while Elizabeth struggled to find her voice.
The door opened a crack. “I hope you’re decent, because I’m coming in.”
Mr. Elder swung the door wider, his gaze searching the room, his lips set in hard line.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“Nothing.”
Elizabeth sniffled.
His fierce expression turned hesitant. He crossed his arms over his chest, then dropped them nervously to his sides before finally planting his burly fists on his hips. “I’ll just be going then.”
He reached for the exit, his feet still rooted to the floor.
She sniffled again.
One hand clinging to the doorknob, he sighed heavily. “If nothing’s wrong, why are you crying?”
Tears dripped onto the baby’s forehead, startling the infant. Sleepy eyes blinked open, catching Elizabeth’s gaze. She stared into their depths, caught in the dark and mysterious vortex, fascinated. It was like looking at an old soul in a new body. “My baby doesn’t have a name.”
“Is that all? I thought something bad had happened.”
“Well,” she huffed. “I wouldn’t expect a man to understand. A good mother would never fall asleep without seeing to her child first. I left Jo all alone with you and…and…” A fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. “This poor child has been on this earth all afternoon, without a name.”
His gaze swung between her and the baby as if he was puzzling out a great problem. “It’s not like she understands the difference.”
“Oh, you, you…” Elizabeth fumed. “I cannot say anything nice to you, so I am not going to say anything at all.”
She clenched her teeth to prevent a torrent of angry words, so resentful, she wanted to lash out.
“No need to upset yourself.” Mr. Elder hovered in the doorway like a wild-eyed buck poised for flight. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to name a baby. Did you and your husband have any names picked out?”
Elizabeth choked back another sob. The only thing Will had ever called their child was a “nuisance.” He’d ridden away the day after he’d discovered she was pregnant.
Her blood turned to ice. What if the child found out she was unloved by her father? Unwanted? Everyone deserved to be loved. All children deserved a name.
She cradled her daughter protectively against her chest. No one knew the truth about Will, and she’d keep it that way. Certainly plenty of people suspected her late husband of cheating at cards, and not a few had grown suspicious of his shallow, jovial smile. But no one knew his true character. He’d saved that part of himself for the people he no longer needed to impress. Like his wife.
Elizabeth had a safe, peaceful home now, and nothing else mattered. Not even an insensitive lawman. She canted a sideways glance at the baffled Ranger.
Mr. Elder hesitantly straddled the threshold—one foot in the room, one foot in the kitchen—as if he couldn’t quite commit to his escape.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “There are some beautiful names in the Bible. Rebecca, Mary. And, uh, some more I can’t think of right now.”
The infant stretched out a single, tiny hand. Her five perfect fingers opened to the world. Love shimmered in Elizabeth’s chest. Instantly calmed, she stared in wonder, awed by this exquisite, fragile human being God had entrusted to her. This miracle of life.
“There’s Rachel,” Mr. Elder continued. “And—”
“Wait,” Elizabeth cut into his mumbled list. “Rachel.” She liked the way it sounded, the way the syllables rolled off her tongue. “This is my daughter, Rachel.”
The name fit.
Peace settled over Elizabeth like a down comforter on a cold winter’s night. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned forward to peer at the baby, still keeping his body half in, half out of the room. “You can always settle on a middle name later.”
Her heart sank.
His stricken gaze darted to her face. “You don’t need to make a decision now.”
“I guess not.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Glad that’s settled.”
“Don’t let me keep you,” Elizabeth muttered.
Mr. Elder groaned. Pulling his foot into the room, he leaned one elbow on the chest of drawers, then rested his chin on his fisted hand. “What was your mother’s name?”
Elizabeth conjured up the one hazy memory she had clung to all these years. She pictured a blond-haired woman with kind, sad eyes. For ten years Elizabeth had clung to her anger and betrayal. Why had her mother relinquished her only child to an orphanage? Why hadn’t she fought harder for Elizabeth? Perhaps it was time for forgiveness. How proud her mother would have been of her first grandchild. Right then, Elizabeth felt as if she could forgive anything. Even Will.
“Rose,” she said. “My mother’s name was Rose.”
“Rachel Rose.” He smiled, his teeth even and white against rugged, wind-chapped skin. “That sounds like the perfect name for a little girl.” He turned on his heel to leave, then paused. “Are you hungry?”
Her stomach rumbled. In all the confusion she hadn’t eaten all day. “Starving.”
He chuckled, threading his fingers through his dark wavy hair, ruffling the neatly cut strands.
A sense of foreboding wiped the half grin from her lips. She’d never again trust a man who spent more time at the barber than he did with his own family. She’d learned that lesson the hard way with Will.
The Ranger smoothed his hair back into place. “I thought you’d be hungry. I’ll fix you a plate.”
“I’ll help you.” Scooting her legs to the side of the bed, she winced as her tender muscles screamed in protest.
“Don’t get up,” he admonished. “I’ll bring supper to you.”
His casual declaration kept her frozen for a long moment. Her eyes narrowed on his face. Was he sincere? Save for a hint of beard shadowing his jaw, Mr. Elder appeared as fresh and crisp as a spring crocus. He wore his dark gray shirt tucked into his trousers, his leather vest neatly buttoned, the gun holster conspicuously absent. Before she could protest, he ducked back into the kitchen.
“Wait,” Elizabeth called. “Where’s Jo?”
“She’s in the barn, doing chores.” He stuck his head around the corner. “That’s one tough young’un.’”
“I didn’t think you two were getting along so well.”
“She’s awfully opinionated for a youngster. But I’ll let it pass since she took such good care of you. A lot of grown men don’t have that kind of grit.” He fisted his hand on the door frame, his head bent, his gaze fastened on the toe of his boot. “Are you sure you’re all right? It’s been a rough day.”
A hint of blush tinged his handsome face, the scratch on his cheek from his barn escape barely visible. Elizabeth suppressed a grin. She found his awkward attempt to inquire about her health painfully endearing.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’d like to think it’s been a day full of blessings.”
He exhaled a pent-up breath. “Yes, it has.”
With a parting nod he disappeared again, taking with him the strange tension she felt in his presence. Bemused, she stared at the empty space he’d occupied. Though a large man, he carried himself with an easy grace. His gestures were spare and clipped, but he managed to speak volumes with his brief answers.
Her stomach rumbled into her musings.
She brushed her nose against Rachel’s. “This should be a novel experience. Most men aren’t interested in fetching and carrying for a lady unless they’re courting. And we certainly aren’t courting.”
Elizabeth wanted to be annoyed with her frailty—she’d just declared her independence, after all—but the hunger gnawing at her stomach silenced her protests.
After pressing her cheek against Rachel’s smooth forehead, she laid the baby on the bed. Twisting, Elizabeth fluffed the pillows behind her, sank her hands into the mattress and shimmied backward until she sat up straight.
