by Kristen Iten
Little blond heads ran circles around Micah as he made his way across the room. He smiled at their squeals and giggles, but his heart ached at the fact that something as simple as wood for the fire seemed like such a special treat to them. Anger ignited in the pit of his stomach toward a father who could let his children live like this while he wasted his life away on the bottle. Visions of kicking the chair right out from under his sleeping hulk filled his mind.
“This should be enough to keep y’all warm for tonight,” he said. “There’s plenty more out there to get you through the next few days.” He tapped the brim of his hat before opening the door to return to Rosie and the baby.
The woman of the house hadn’t said a word since he’d come in. She stood, mouth hanging open, cradling her youngest. “What did you say your name was again?”
He removed his hat. “Sheriff Lagrange,” he said.
“Clara.” She reached her hand out to shake his. “That baby will be getting hungry soon. I’ll send Ida Mae out with some food for him.”
Micah couldn’t help but notice the fact that she looked ten years younger as the stress melted from her face. He was sure she hadn’t even reached her thirtieth year. “I appreciate that, ma’am. We didn’t bring any food fit for such a little man.”
He stepped out into the night and filled his lungs with the crisp October air. Placing his hat back on his head, he ran his finger along the smooth felt brim. He looked over his shoulder before heading back to the barn. I’ll be looking in on this family again real soon.
The moon had traveled across the sky and now shown down on Rosie and the baby through the hay door in the loft. Micah walked up quietly with his saddle bags slung over his shoulder. He sat down and rummaged around for a moment before pulling a few bundles out.
“You hungry?” He unwrapped the food he had packed a few days before and spread it out next to Rosie.
“It looks like a feast.”
Micah set about slicing a chunk of cheese and tearing the jerked beef into manageable pieces. He picked up two flat, square objects and clanked them together. “I’d offer you some of my hard tack, but with no coffee to soak it in, I’m afraid you might chip a tooth.” Rosie’s laugh warmed him from the inside.
“That’s all right. Between the meat and cheese, I’ll be fine. Though I don’t know what I’ll do for this little one.” The baby stirred in her arms, chewing on his fist. “I think he’s starting to get hungry.”
“Excuse me, ma’am. Mama sent me out with this. It’s for baby Joseph.” The little girl who had brought the baby out stood in the doorway holding a steaming bowl in her hands.
“Thank you, dear,” said Rosie. “What is it?”
“It’s a mashed tater mixed with warm goat’s milk.” Her shy eyes were glued to the ground as she walked up and handed the bowl to Rosie. “He just gobbles it up every time.”
“Is he old enough? He looks so tiny,” said Rosie.
“Mama says he’s probably about five months old. She says that’s plenty big enough to start on easy food and milk.”
Micah followed the young girl’s timid gaze to the food he had just laid out on linen cloths between him and Rosie. Her eyes were wide and full of longing, but she didn’t utter a word. He heard a stirring at the door way and looked on as several little heads popped into view, peeking around the door jam.
He and Rosie shared a knowing glance. “Come on in out of the cold, youngins,” he said. He took a few slices of cheese and a piece of dried meat and wrapped it in one of the small pieces of cloth before stowing it in his saddle bag. Looking over at Rosie, he leaned back and rubbed his empty stomach. “I don’t think I can eat another bite of dinner, Miss Rosie. How ‘bout you?”
“I don’t think I could fit another bite in without bursting my buttons.” A playful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“What are we going to do with all of this food?” he said. “I don’t want to have to carry it all back home tomorrow. If only there was someone who could eat it all up for us …” Five eager little faces looked up at the man seated in their barn. They all knelt in the hay at his feet.
“You youngins wouldn’t be able to help me polish off this food, would you?”
Five little hands shot up high as a chorus of “Me, me, me,” rang through the air. Micah dealt the food out to the hungry children, saving back a portion for their mother and the sleeping little one inside.
Micah’s stomach turned sour as he watched the children eating so greedily. It was plain to see that it had been a while since they had eaten a hardy meal. His heart squeezed within him when one of the younger boys leapt up and threw his little arms around his neck.
“Thanks, Mr. Sheriff.”
This is the last time these little ones are going to know hunger. He gave Ida Mae the portion of food he had saved back for their mother, as well as a bag full of hard tack. “Tell your mama that these are to repay her for her hospitality.”
Micah and Rosie gazed at one another after the children went back to their mother. She reached out for his hand.
“That was beautiful, Micah.” She squeezed his fingers as a smile lit up her face. “I’d skip dinner any day of the week to see those sweet little faces well fed.”
“Lucky for you, you don’t have to skip a meal.” He pulled out the small parcel he had stashed away earlier and handed it to her. “I saved some back for you.”
“Will wonders never cease.” Rosie took the food he offered. “I’ll eat it on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to share it with me.”
Micah grunted and shifted in his seat.
“I won’t hear a moment of argument, Micah Lagrange. Either you eat with me, or I don’t eat at all.” She raised her eyebrows and would have folded her arms across her chest if they hadn’t been otherwise occupied with a wiggly bundle.
Micah dropped his head in defeat and softly chuckled. “You win.” He twisted off a piece of meat and held it up for her to see. “I’ll eat.”
A satisfied smile blazed across Rosie’s face as she popped a piece of cheese into her mouth. Micah’s heart pounded as his eyes took in the sight of her sitting in the moonlight. Radiant. It was a word he seldom used, but it was the only one that could describe the vision seated next to him. He was roused from thought by the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Clara stood in the doorway with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “The house is all warmed up now. Y’all are welcome to spend the night indoors if you don’t mind being a bit cramped.”
Micah stood. “Thank you, ma’am.” He helped Rosie to her feet. “You go on in with the baby. I’ll spend the night here.”
“Are you sure?” Rosie’s brows drew together in concern.
“I’ll sleep like a baby out here. You go ahead and get that little man of ours out of the night air.” His eyes grew wide as soon as the words left his mouth. He and Rosie stared at each other for a moment as a flash of heat rose into his face.
“All right then,” said Rosie. “Sleep well, Micah.” She disappeared into the snug little shack followed closely by Clara.
Micah ran a sweaty palm through his wavy hair. He blew out a long breath and slapped his hat against his thigh, chiding himself. You’re no good for those two, Micah. Remember that.
Chapter 13
Morning came early the next day. The children rose with the sun as Rosie sat, yawning and blinking her eyes. She watched in awe at their immediate and boundless energy. Her heart warmed as she witnessed a tender moment between Clara and her young daughter. They stood next to the stove as Clara braided the girl’s hair. She bent down and kissed her on the top of her head when she’d finished.
Rosie’s eyes welled up at the thought of all the moments her cousin would miss with the sweet child in her care. Don’t worry, Margaret. I’ll give him every ounce of love I have in my heart. She was a mother now. Though her heart was filled with sadness at the circumstance, she was c
ompletely devoted to the tiny person who had so entirely filled her heart in such a short amount of time.
She looked down at the baby stirring by her side and rubbed her weary eyes. Very little sleep had found her during the night. She had passed much of the time staring at his flawless skin and cherub cheeks, holding his hands and admiring his tiny fingers. Watching his chest rise and fall as he slept brought a tangible peace into her otherwise conflicted heart.
A gust of cool morning air rushed into the room when one of the children opened the door for Micah. He stepped into the house and removed his hat.
He looked at the floor and raked his fingers through his hair, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I ain’t all that presentable this morning, but I’m ready to go when you are, Miss Rosie.” He patted a child on the head as he sat eating hard tack soaked in warm goat’s milk. Each little face seated around the table looked up at his words.
“Don’t go!” The same chorus of little voices from the night before broke out in pleading tones.
“I’ll be looking in on y’all soon,” he said. He looked at the young mother and held her light green eyes with his gaze. “We’ll see to it that these little ones are warm and fed this winter.” Rosie nodded in agreement.
Clara’s chin quivered as she brushed away a stray tear that slipped down her cheek. “I’m beholdin’ to ya, Sheriff.” She cleared her throat and snatched up a toddler playing too close to the pot belly stove. “Ida Mae, fetch the bag for Miss Rosie.”
The little girl handed Rosie a bag filled with blankets and rags to keep the baby clean and dry. “This is the bag the doc brought over with baby Joseph,” Ida Mae said.
Clara brought a small bowl covered with a towel. “Feed him this when he starts fussing for something to eat. It ought to keep his belly full until you can get him home.” She patted the baby in Rosie’s arms. “He’s a content baby; I’ll give him that. You’ll have a good life with these people, little Joseph.”
Rosie’s eyes cut to Micah whose cheeks instantly flushed. “Thank you for everything Clara,” she said. “Can you tell us where they laid my cousin to rest? I’d like to pay my respects before we head home—if that’s all right with you, Micah.”
“Wouldn’t dream of going home without stopping by for a spell,” he said.
“They were buried on their property. It’s only about a ten minute ride straight west down the road. It’s a white house on a hill with a tall oak in back of it. You can’t miss it.”
Once seated in the carriage, Rosie hugged her precious cargo as they set off down the little worn path serving as a road. It wasn’t long before her cousin’s home came into view.
A small, well-kept house sat atop a grassy hill overlooking the low land surrounding it. A tall mixture of prairie grasses bent to the light breeze in an intricately interconnected wave that started at the base of the hill and continued on as far as the eye could see. An ancient oak tree towered over the small, shuttered house, its protective branches reaching out in all directions.
Micah helped Rosie to the ground as she clung to the baby. The rough, dried grass tugged at her skirt as she climbed the hill. They stopped to appreciate the view when they reached the top.
“Oh, the times this sweet child would have had running these hills, Micah.” Her voice shook with emotion threatening to break free at any moment. “It sure was a pretty little place,” she said.
“It still is.”
“Yes, but it looks sad now. I don’t know how a house can look sad, but this one does.” She wandered around to the back of the house where she saw two fresh mounds of dirt under the shade of the oak tree. Kneeling down by the freshest mound, she took a handful of dirt in her hand and let it fall back to the earth through her fingers.
“Margaret,” she said in a hushed tone, “I’ll take care of him as if he were my very own, and love him ‘til the day I die.” She sat in silence for a few minutes before looking into the round, blue eyes of the baby she held. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she said, “We’ll come back here sometime when you’re older, but for now, it’s time for you to come home.” She pressed her lips to his soft cheek. Micah was by her side to help her up, and they walked back down the hill to the carriage in silence.
Rosie patted Joseph’s bottom to the rhythm of the horse’s hooves as the carriage rolled on ever closer to Sweet Creek. The sunshine warmed her face while the cool wind reminded her that winter was just around the corner.
Micah broke the silence. “How was it that you didn’t know your cousin had a baby?”
“Who said I didn’t know?” Rosie watched him from the corner of her eye, stifling a smile.
“Your face did when I first handed him over to you.”
Rosie’s soft laughter rippled through the air. “I can’t fool you. I didn’t know. Margaret’s mother moved back East years ago after she was widowed. Somehow, we ended up losing touch over the years.” She released a deep sigh. “I got a letter from her a little over a month ago. She sounded so happy to be back in Texas. They were going to come spend Christmas with me.” She turned the baby around to face her. “She spoke of a wonderful surprise she had for me. I can only imagine that she must have been talking about this little angel.”
“Well, he is a pretty wonderful surprise at that,” said Micah.
“It was going to be such a celebration, Micah.” Rosie’s voice was filled with longing. “My house wasn’t going to be the town boarding house this Christmas. It was going to be a real home with a real family inside.”
“It still can be.”
A long silence followed.
“I don’t know. Carson wants to move away as soon as he’s won the election.”
“Is that what you want?” He pinned her with a knowing look.
“It’s hard to say,” she said softly. She searched Micah’s deep hazel eyes. If he’d had a change of heart, she couldn’t see it in them. “Maybe it’s best for me to leave.”
They drove on in silence as little Joseph took in the new sights around him, chewing on his pudgy little fist.
Chapter 14
Hours passed as they made their way along the bumpy road to Sweet Creek. Micah watched as Rosie cared for the baby. He was struck by what a natural mother she was. He’d always known that she was meant to be a mother but to see her in action was a thing of beauty.
About an hour out of town, the baby’s mood changed in a sudden way. What started as mild fussing turned into full blown wailing. Despite Rosie’s best efforts to sooth the child, she couldn’t comfort him. His back was rigid as he screamed, arms and legs struggling against the blanket around him.
The perfect porcelain of his round face was spotted with bright red blotches reaching into his hairline and around to the back of his head. Large tears streaked his face as he opened his mouth wide with cries.
They rode on like this for several minutes before Rosie spoke up. “What am I going to do?”
“You ever driven a carriage before?” asked Micah.
“No, why?”
“It’s real easy with a good horse like this.” He took her free hand and uncoiled her fingers. Fire shot up his arm at the sensation of her soft skin touching his. He placed the reins in her hand. “Lay these across your hand like this.”
“How do you expect me to manage a wildly unhappy baby and a carriage at the same time?” she blurted, clearly flustered by the inconsolable baby in her arms.
“I don’t.” Micah lifted Joseph out of Rosie’s arms and placed him on his lap.
“Never in all my days have I seen a man tend to a crying baby.” The corner of Micah’s lips turned up as her breathless words fell on his ears.
He loosened the blankets constricting the baby’s movements and placed him, belly down on his lap. Joseph arched his back and stiffened his legs out behind him as he continued to cry. Micah gently bounced the baby while patting up and down the length of his back.
The baby’s cries continued to ring in Rosie’s ears
when suddenly he squirmed and let loose copious amounts of gas. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh, my word! I had no idea such a little thing could hold so much inside. Poor baby. How did you know to do that?”
“This was the only thing that would settle my baby girl when she was bawling like that.” Treasured memories of holding his own child flooded his mind. The soft rolls of her tiny arms, the sweet smell of the crown of her head, the way she used to look up into his eyes and smile with her whole body—it all came rushing back to him.
He gazed down at the baby boy in his lap and marveled at the feelings a child with no blood relation to him could stir. In that moment, he wanted nothing more in the world than to be the father that Joseph had lost—to raise him and love him as his own.
The landscape around them appeared wavy and distorted as Micah looked through teary eyes. He spoke around the knot that had formed in his throat. “You want him back?”
“He seems to be content with you, and my arms could use a break.”
She gave him a sideways glance as the corners of her mouth pulled up into a sweet smile, sending velvety warmth throughout his body.
“Anyway, I kind of like driving. I’m not so sure I want to give up the reins just yet,” she said.
Two red-bellied songbirds chased each other, flying low along side of the trail. They darted this way and that before soaring high into the air. His eyes followed them until they were little more than dark specks in the dazzling, clear blue sky.
Happiness rolled around somewhere deep within him, illuminating his features. For the first time in twenty years, his heart felt as free as those two songbirds. He gazed at Rosie and then at the infant he held in his lap. These two are good medicine for what ails you. He took a deep breath, blinking back his tears. Micah smiled within himself as he continued to pat the relieved baby lying across his lap.