by Kristen Iten
The carriage crested a small hill, giving the weary travelers a grand view of Sweet Creek. Buildings lined either side of a wide main street filled with a flurry of activity.
“Look at all of the comings and goings happening down there,” said Rosie.
“I can only imagine how busy the place is going to be after the railroad gets to town this spring.” Micah sat Joseph up on his knee, wrapping a strong arm around his middle for support.
Before long the threesome were pulling up in front of the boarding house. Micah sighed, disappointment thinning his lips and tugging his shoulders into a slouch. The ride into town had gone by much too fast for his liking. He forced a smile for Rosie’s sake.
“You take little man, and I’ll help you both down like last night.”
“Just like last night?” A sprightly look glinted in her eyes as color immediately rushed into Micah’s cheeks.
The busyness of the town around them hushed, and all Micah could hear was the hammering of his own heart. All he saw were her sparkling blue eyes gazing back at him, filled with a mixture of hope and longing. Every second he spent locked in her hypnotic gaze melted his resolve a little more.
“Rose!” The sound of a screen door slamming shut on its hinges broke Micah free from his trance. He cringed at the voice that fell on his ears once again.
“There you are. I’ve been wondering how long you were going to be gone,” said Carson. “I tell you, if I have to eat another plate of stew that girl at the general store cooks up every day, I just might lose my mind.”
“Hello, Carson.” Rosie spoke the words without taking her eyes off of Micah.
He swept her into his arms and gently lowered her to the ground. All the while, his eyes traced the soft edges of her full lips. He stood motionless in the street for a moment and cleared his throat before speaking again. “I’ll head on over to the general store and tell Miss Emma to send over a few things for the little man while you settle in.”
“Thank you, Micah. That’s so thoughtful of you.” Rosie hesitated for a moment before lowering her gaze to the dusty road and climbing the stairs to her front door.
Carson tilted his head to the side and lifted his brows high above his chestnut-brown eyes, questions written all over his face. “What on God’s green earth have you brought home with you?”
A twinge of jealousy gnawed at Micah’s stomach when Carson placed his hand on the small of Rosie’s back and guided her through the door. His eyes narrowed as something resembling a growl churned in the back of his throat.
The relief that he experienced along the road was short lived. The sharp pangs of loss once again pierced his heart when Rosie’s door closed, leaving him on the outside. Though he had been released from continuing a lifetime spent in mourning, one pain was merely replaced by another. Part of him would always belong to Rosie, and as long as they were apart, his heart would never be whole.
Chapter 15
Rosie and Carson entered her cozy home together. The tension she carried in her shoulders melted at the sight of her settee and fringed pillows. She noticed at once that the curtains on her picture window no longer swayed in the wind.
“You had my window fixed while I was away.”
“I had Titus tend to that first thing this morning. The wind was getting tedious, but we have more pressing matters to discuss.” He rearranged the bundled blanket in Rosie’s arms.
“Carson, meet Joseph. Isn’t he precious?” She turned the baby around to face him.
His eyes widened at the sight. The blank expression on his face soon turned to confusion. “What …” For the first time since she had known him, the great orator, Carson Wagoner, was speechless.
“He’s a baby, Carson. That’s generally what they’re called.” Rosie’s laughter was light and cheerful.
Having the upper hand where Carson was concerned was quite an experience. She practically glided to her favorite chair in the corner and made herself comfortable.
“But whose …” Carson was stupefied. Various expressions flashed across his face as his mind worked to process this new development.
“He’s my baby… well, I suppose I should say he’s our baby, now.”
Carson’s face turned deathly pale. His arms dropped to his sides, and his jaw hung slack.
Rosie’s expression turned serious. “My cousin didn’t make it. She left behind this sweet child. I’m his only living blood relation.”
“What about its father’s side of the family? Don’t they want it?”
“You mean him, and no. Margaret mentioned in her letter that her husband had been an orphan boy himself. That’s why he was so looking forward to celebrating Christmas here—as a family.”
She turned her attention to the baby. “That means I’m going to be this little one’s new mommy.” She spoke in a candy-coated, sing-song voice and gazed into the infant’s sparkling blue eyes. “Yes, I am.” She kissed each of his tiny fingers in turn, causing him to open his mouth in a big, toothless grin and squirm with delight.
Titus bustled into the room, as was his usual hurried manner. He and Carson sat on the settee across the room from Rosie. He pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and immediately entered into a hushed conversation. Carson was animated, as always, and Titus wore his customary scheming expression.
Rosie paid them no mind. She was happily lost in a world of her own, cradling Joseph and humming a soft lullaby she hadn’t thought of in years. A knock sounded at the door and everyone remained seated. She glanced up when the knocking came again. “Is someone going to get that?”
Confusion and shock flashed across Carson’s face before he ordered Titus to answer the door. “I hope you’re not planning to shirk all of your duties now that this child has entered into the picture,” he said.
Emma stood at the door nearly bursting with excitement. She rushed into the room followed closely by Cole, who stood behind her holding a large wooden cradle laden with supplies.
Emma’s voice was breathless with wonder. “Miss Rosie, he’s beautiful. When Micah came into the store just now saying that you had a baby but needed all of the fixins, I nearly fell over.”
Cole leaned in close. “That she did. It’s a good thing I was there to catch her.” He winked with an impish look plastered on his face and nudged Emma with his elbow.
Emma laughed freely. “Stop that, and set the cradle down. Miss Rosie and I have work to do.” She looked at Rosie. “I gathered everything I could think of.” She began going through all of the items in the cradle one by one. “If I missed anything, let me know, and I’ll go right on over and grab it for you.”
By the time the cradle was emptied, there was a sizable mound of supplies on the floor at Rosie’s feet. She drew in a small, sharp breath when her eyes came to rest on the miniature wooden bed.
Her fingers trailed along the smooth, dark wood and traced the initials H.C. that had been engraved on the bottom panel. Hans Christoph, the town carpenter, had outdone himself with his lathe work this time. The intricately turned wooden spindles making up the sides of the cradle were a work of art. The relief carving of a sleeping lamb at the head of the tiny bed was the perfect finishing touch to this fine heirloom.
“This is the cradle I’ve admired for so long.” She looked at Emma as tears welled up in her eyes.
“I know,” said Emma. “Micah said to be sure to bring it over.”
“How did he know? I’ve never said anything about it.”
“You didn’t have to. He said you’ve always had your eye on it. I’d noticed, too. You always stopped by to admire it whenever you were at the store.” Emma reached out and squeezed Rosie’s hand. Her face lit up when she whispered, “You’re a mama.”
An invisible warmth encircled Rosie as she was caught up in the excitement of the moment.
Carson’s jarring voice broke in on the scene. “I hope all of this didn’t cost too much.”
“Don’t be silly, Carson,” said Rosie. “The
re’s not a single frivolous item in the whole pile.”
“I’d say it’s frivolous to spend a large sum of money on a fancy cradle that’s only going to be used for a short time.”
The smile disappeared from Rosie’s face. “What do you mean?”
“Surely, whoever you give him to will already have everything they need—including a cradle. It was a nice gesture, Emma, but entirely unnecessary.”
“Whoever I give him to?” Rosie’s nostrils flared as her soft, full lips hardened into a thin line. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Obviously, you were only joking about being this child’s new mother. How could you fulfill your new duties at the Capital if you have an infant to take care of?” Carson slapped his side and indulged in a deep belly laugh. “Why, you didn’t even answer the door a few minutes ago.”
He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “You’d hardly be able to orchestrate elegant dinner parties for my peers with a baby on your hip. No, no, any wife of mine will be much too busy for such a distraction as a baby.”
Annoyance turned to anger, driving Rosie’s heart to race wildly in her chest. Heated blood rushed into her face and neck. There would be no hiding her true feelings behind a polite smile today. She chewed the inside of her cheek savagely, searching for just the right words to say to this pompous, self-absorbed man.
“You know, Carson,” said Titus, “this situation could actually benefit your career.”
“I’m listening,” Carson said.
Titus formed his fingers into a steeple, resting his clean-shaven chin on them. “Constituents love a family man. Marry Rose, keep the baby, and you’ll have an instant family on your hands with none of the customary waiting period.” His eyes gleamed as a new ploy began to take shape in his mind. “Just think of the publicity. I can see the headlines now, ‘New Senator of Texas Welcomes Orphaned Waif Into His Bosom.’”
Carson’s eyes lit up. “That could work.”
“Most definitely! You could always hire a woman to handle the day-to-day care of the child. You’d only need to bring the baby out in public once in a while for appearances and such.”
Rosie stood slowly from her seat, boiling blood surging through her veins. She placed Joseph in Emma’s waiting arms and crossed the room with narrowed eyes and clenched fists. “I am not going to raise my voice because I refuse to frighten that sweet baby.” Delivering the words through gritted teeth, she said,. “But do not mistake my quiet tone for passivity.” Her voice cracked with the passion fighting so desperately to pour out of her.
“Listen to yourselves talk. You should hang your heads in shame at the way you speak of using the people in your lives.”
She glared at the two grown men with burning eyes until they lowered their gazes to the floor.
“Let me make one thing painfully clear to the both of you. This innocent child will not be used as a tool for your political gain. He deserves more than that—much more than that. You don’t want a family, Carson. What you want is called play acting.”
She threw her shoulders back and stood tall. The raging fury in her stomach filled her with more confidence than she had ever felt in her life. “This baby deserves to be loved and cherished.” A broad smile spread across her face as a new revelation dawned in her heart. “And so do I.”
She took a deep breath, looking Carson square in the eyes. “Thank you for your kind proposal, but I have decided to reconsider—our engagement is off.”
Carson stood and laid a hand softly on her arm. “My dear, Rose, let’s not be hasty—”
“There is nothing hasty about my decision.” She shrugged away his hand. “I’ve spoken my final word on the subject.”
Carson stood frozen for a moment, astonishment etched across his features. The shock of Rosie’s declaration was soon replaced by his best campaign-day smile. “No harm done, my dear. May I ask one favor of you?”
“What might that be?”
“Don’t let word of this spread around town until after the election. If the papers got wind of this, it could be quite damaging to my chances of being elected. People will always see a scandal where there is none.”
Rosie rolled her eyes and sighed. “I won’t do anything to hurt your campaign. Despite all of your flaws, I hold no malice against you. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a baby to feed, clean, and put down for a nap.”
She returned to Emma’s side and reclaimed her son. “Thank you for everything, dear. Look in on us anytime.” She gave Carson a pointed look. “And I’ll be keeping the cradle.”
Rosie marched down the hall, hugging Joseph to her chest. Her heart returned to its natural rhythm by the time she sat on the corner of her bed. It was impossible to stay riled up with soft puffs of baby breath hitting her neck.
She laid him on the bed and walked her fingers up his belly and all the way to his chin. He squealed and squirmed at the tickles. “How could I have ever entertained the thought of marriage to that insufferable man? If it wasn’t for you, I’d have gone through with it.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You’re my hero.”
She stretched out on her side next to the baby and propped her head up on her hand. A long audible breath escaped her lips as she patted Joseph’s belly. If only things could be different with Micah.
Chapter 16
Micah walked along the main street conducting his nightly rounds. It felt good to be home after the long drive earlier that morning. Home. He hadn’t thought any place would ever feel like home again after losing his family, but Sweet Creek had a way of welcoming you in and making you feel like you belonged.
Dried earth crunched beneath his boots as he walked the length of the street. He looked up into the deep, navy-blue sky, admiring the stars twinkling overhead. A crisp wind blew in his face, bringing with it the freshness of the vast wild places beyond the borders of town.
His mind drifted to the events that had taken place earlier that afternoon. He couldn’t shake the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach at the memory of Carson Wagoner’s hand on the small of Rosie’s back.
Am I really protecting them by staying away? So many conflicting thoughts rolled through his head. He’d carried a sense of responsibility for the deaths of his young family for so many years that he’d never stopped to consider any other possibility. For the first time, he was willing to entertain the idea that perhaps evil was to blame for the tragedy that day—not him.
The sound of Cole’s voice calling from the other end of town shook him out of his thoughts.
“Sheriff, come quick!”
Micah turned to see Cole’s tall figure struggling to support a man with a much wider girth than his own. He sprinted down the street as the larger man stumbled and fell to his knees. Cole helped him back to his feet. The big man grabbed the back of his head with a meaty hand and moaned.
“What happened?” Micah’s voice boomed with authority.
“I stopped by Ben’s shop just now to see if he’d finished fixing a pail I dropped off the other day. I found him lying unconscious next to the bellows.”
“Are you all right, Ben?” Micah asked.
“I’m all right.” The blacksmith straightened his back and winced with pain, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “It was two men, Sheriff. They held me at gunpoint, demanding I shoe a mule for them.”
“The Garret boys,” Micah growled the words. The muscles on the side of his face flexed as he ground his teeth. “What happened next?”
“I shoed the mule, and they was about to leave when one of ‘em spotted the newspaper lying on my workbench.”
“I never knew either of the Garrets to be much for reading,” said Cole. “I don’t even think Dub can read.”
“He couldn’t, but he recognized the symbol for Mr. Wagoner’s ranch down south. That perked up their interest real good. The other brother, Lyle I think his name was, read it. They whooped and hollered when they saw Mr. Wagoner had gotten himself engaged. They said someth
ing about it being time to collect—”
“Rosie!” Micah drew his weapon and ran full speed to the boarding house.
Cole took off after him, revolver drawn and at the ready. “Come on, Ben!”
Micah stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the boarding house. Not a single light shone in the windows. He held up his hand, signaling silence to the two men approaching from behind.
He shot a look at Cole and motioned with his revolver for him to make his way around the back of the house. Cole nodded. This man who was quick to smile and quicker to laugh was all business, making his way silently around the corner of the house.
Micah turned his attention to Ben. He held up his six-shooter and mouthed the words, “more guns,” and pointed back at the jail. Ben got the message and ran to the jail to collect more fire power as fast as his legs could carry his bulky frame.
The sheriff climbed the familiar steps to Rosie’s front porch and crept toward the door, being careful to avoid the squeaky planks he knew so well. He flattened his back against the wall and held his revolver at the ready, listening for any hint of life inside. Silence.
The interior door stood wide open. Every muscle in his body hardened as he peered into the house. There wasn’t a soul to be seen in the darkened room. With every sense on high alert, he eased his body through the screen door without a sound.
He listened intently as he slowly progressed to the back of the room, pistol ready for action. His stomach clenched at the sound of a boot scuffing across the warn planks of Rosie’s kitchen floor. The door jamb between the sitting room and kitchen was the only cover available. Micah hurried to the spot.
He stood motionless once again, listening for clues as to where the sound was coming from in the next room. His strong profile was rigid with determination. The sound came again—this time it was closer. Without hesitation, Micah pivoted on one foot and took up a powerful stance in the doorway with his revolver pointed in the face of a tall, dark figure. Micah’s muscles tensed when he realized that he, too, was looking down the barrel of a gun. It was a standoff.