“You never did say what the Baker boys did to make you afraid of them,” Bailey said softly.
“I’m not afraid of them,” Rosie protested. “Billy Baker takes the bows out of my hair and throws them in the air.” She paused. “That’s not nice.”
“He doesn’t hit you or trip you or anything?” Bailey asked just to be sure.
Rosie shook her hair, her curls bouncing.
“Billy’s the oldest one, isn’t he?” Bailey questioned and received a nod. “Do the two younger ones bother you?”
“They laugh when Billy throws my bows up,” Rosie said indignantly. “And they’re my bows!”
“I see,” Bailey said. She was going to have to tell Mark that the complaints against the boys were not as bad as they had both suspected. “Maybe I should make a cake to go with the cookies.”
There was a knock on the front door then and Rosie raced to answer it. Bailey stepped over to the window. She could see the footprints in the snow that came from the bunkhouse. There were no other prints of man or animal so she knew Rosie would be opening the door to Josh or Mark or, more likely, both of them. A delighted squeal confirmed her suspicions.
She put four circles of pancake batter on the griddle and reached for a bowl to use in cracking the eggs.
“Coffee smells good,” Mark said as he stepped into the kitchen. “We saw the kitchen light on and figured you were up.”
Bailey could hear Rosie and Josh talking in the living room.
“I’m glad you came early,” Bailey said. “I finally asked exactly what the Baker boys had done to Rosie.”
“And?” Mark asked the question roughly and she could see him strain his muscles as though readying himself to take care of anything that would be mentioned.
“The oldest Baker boy, Billy, would take Rosie’s bow out of her hair and throw it in the air,” Bailey reported and then walked back to the stove to flip the pancakes that were cooking.
“That’s it?” Mark said as he followed her. “No punching, tripping or other bodily harm?”
Bailey shook her head. “Not according to Rosie. Just taking the bow.”
“I did that a couple of times to you when we weren’t much older than Rosie,” Mark said, with a growing smile. “You used to get really mad, too.”
“They were my bows,” Bailey said firmly.
“We lived through it,” Mark said.
“I’m thinking cookies aren’t enough to give as a peace offering,” Bailey said as she poured more batter onto the griddle.
“Don’t underestimate how much boys like cookies,” Mark said.
It was quiet for a few minutes and Mark spoke again. “I believe Rosie has an admirer.”
“Not a very skilled one,” Bailey said as she began cracking the eggs and dropping them in a frying pan.
“Well, Billy’s only eight years old, I think,” Mark said. “We’re going to have to cut him some slack.”
“I wonder if Rosie and I shouldn’t come with you and Mrs. Hargrove,” Bailey said. “Maybe we could surround them with kindness.”
Mark chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”
A rapid series of footsteps sounded and Rosie raced into the kitchen.
“Josh likes my taps,” she announced. “He said he’d vote for me if he was a judge in the contest only he’s not a judge.” Rosie’s smile dimmed. “That means he can’t vote.”
“He can clap though,” Bailey assured her daughter. “That way the judges will see how much he enjoyed your dancing.”
“Good,” Rosie said as she danced over to the table, sat down in her chair and picked up her fork. “I love pancakes.”
Josh followed Rosie into the kitchen and Mark poured cups of coffee for himself and the other ranch hand. Then Mark brought over a glass of milk for Rosie and a glass of orange juice for Bailey.
By the time the beverages were all settled on the table, the eggs were done. Bailey pulled the pancakes and the bacon out of the warming oven. She noticed Mark had found the tin of syrup and set it on the table.
“All set,” Bailey said as she started to carry a platter with the food over to the table.
Mark interrupted her after she’d taken a couple of steps. “You shouldn’t be carrying anything.”
She let him take the platter, noting he was doing pretty good walking without his cane for short distances.
“It’s nice to have someone help me now and then,” Bailey said as she looked at Mark’s back. He was doing his duty, she knew. Military straight and proud. But he was doing that duty willingly. Every woman needed—Bailey stopped. She had forgotten again.
“I keep thinking I should call the lawyer and see if he’s been in touch with Emma,” Bailey said, fretting a little. “I’m a month or so ahead of her, but she’s going to need help soon enough.”
It was suddenly absolutely quiet. Even Rosie stopped her chattering as she looked at the two men.
“Josh could take a drive over to Missoula and check on her,” Mark said, sounding solicitous.
“Oh, she’s probably fine,” Bailey said as she walked over and took her place at the table. “It might just be one of those stray worries that plague pregnant women. I’ll call the lawyer later today. He’s probably heard from her that she’s staying with her mother or something like that.”
“She told me her mother had died,” Josh said.
“Oh, when was that?” Bailey asked. She hadn’t heard anything about Emma’s family, not when they had the meeting with the lawyer and not before that from anyone.
“I helped her walk to the lawyer’s car,” Josh said, a tic starting to show in his jawline. “At Eli’s funeral. The snow was deep and she needed to be careful. She told me then that her mother had died some years ago.”
“Well.” Bailey had never known Josh to have a nervous tic before. “I’ll call when we get back from the Bakers and give you a report from the lawyer. Surely she keeps him informed.”
Bailey felt good about deciding to check on the other woman. She was blessed to have people who were helping her. She wouldn’t want anyone to face pregnancy alone, especially not someone as young as Emma.
“Let’s pray so we can eat,” Bailey said and everyone bowed their heads.
“We’re grateful to you, Father, and we ask that you keep us safe today. Be with Emma. Be with the Bakers. And be with Mrs. Hargrove,” Bailey prayed. “Now we ask you to bless this food to our bodies. We ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.”
Everyone ate heartily and then Josh and Mark left to feed the cattle and to move them around in some fashion. Mark had washed the dishes before they left so Bailey decided to do as he suggested and sit in the recliner with her feet up.
There was no point in having all of this willing help if she was going to refuse it. She needed to rest so she’d be able to go with Rosie to the Bakers in a couple of hours. She wasn’t sure who she felt the need to protect in the upcoming exchange, but she owed it to her daughter to be there.
She smiled remembering a day almost two decades ago when Mark had stolen a bow out of her hair. Redheads were particularly sensitive about their hair because they got teased. She had been and it sounded like Rosie shared that trait. Both of them made it difficult for boys.
Chapter Eleven
All chatter in the pickup stopped as Mark drove onto the lane leading up to the Bakers’ house. Mrs. Hargrove and Rosie were in the backseat and Bailey sat next to him on the passenger side. Josh had stayed at the ranch to do some work in the barn.
Mark almost wished the other ranch hand had come. Josh was handy with a hammer and—between the two of them—they might have been able to repair a few things while they were here. Snow covered everything in sight, but it was clear that most of the fences needed to be fixed. Posts were down and some barbed wire hung on the ground. The main door to the barn was crooked. The barn i
tself badly needed new paint. Of course, no one could do that in the winter damp.
A few bare trees loomed over the small frame house, a pale green originally. So much paint had chipped away there that it looked speckled. On the Rosen ranch this would be considered a shack. He’d be surprised if there were more than two bedrooms in the house and those would have to be tiny. He couldn’t help but wonder where that uncle slept. Maybe it was lack of sleep that kept the man from doing any work around the place.
The porch roof had a bright blue tarp peeking out under the snow. It was the only thing in sight that looked reasonably new. One of the windows in the house was cracked and partially mended with duct tape.
“At least their pickup seems to be working,” Mark commented. There was nothing else positive to say. Someone had driven it this morning because the snow had melted off the roof of the cab. The vehicle had a rim of rust along the bottom of the frame, but it had all its hubcaps and other trim.
“I’m guessing that it belongs to the man who is staying here,” Mrs. Hargrove said, her voice not as bracing as usual. “As I recall, the husband took the only vehicle with him when he left.”
“That’s tough,” Bailey murmured.
Mark agreed. In a rural area like this, a family needed a vehicle to even get groceries. And what would they do in emergencies?
“I should have come out to check on them sooner,” Mrs. Hargrove said, regret clear in her voice. “I just don’t usually drive on the gravel roads in winter. I’m fine on the freeways, but...” Her voice trailed off.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Bailey said. “I could have driven out here, too. Well, maybe not in the last few months, but earlier.”
“We’re here now,” Mark said. “That’s the important thing.”
Mark resolved to ask Mrs. Baker if she’d accept some help if he and Josh came back with their hammers and some nails.
“I don’t see Billy,” Rosie said with her face pressed against the side window.
“The two younger boys are probably here,” Bailey said. “But Billy should be in school.”
“He’s older than me,” Rosie agreed as she stopped looking.
“He’d need to have someone drive him into Dry Creek to catch the bus,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “With all of this snow, that might not have happened today.”
“Someone did drive the pickup somewhere,” Mark said.
He already knew that Rosie would have to be taken to the hardware store in Dry Creek to catch the bus this coming fall. It would be kindergarten for her, the girl had proudly told him. He wondered how Bailey would manage that when she’d have the baby to worry about, too. Rural life wasn’t always easy.
The curtains in the window nearest the front door moved slightly and Mark knew they had been spotted. He glanced down at the clock in the dash and saw they were five minutes early. He parked the pickup beside the other vehicle.
Then he announced, “Nobody is to walk inside by themselves. Unless I’m wrong, there is ice on the ground under this snow and we don’t want any falls.”
“But you might fall, too,” Rosie said, worry in her eyes.
“My cane helps me balance,” Mark told her. “I’m pretty steady.”
Mark turned to face everyone. “Now, who wants to be first?”
No one volunteered.
“Rosie shouldn’t go until I’m there to see she’s—” Bailey said. “I mean until I can help her with her coat.”
Mark knew that wasn’t what she’d been going to say, but he agreed. He didn’t want Rosie to be in there by herself either. Not with those Baker boys around.
“I can go,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “It takes me longer than most to get settled anyway so that will work fine.”
Mark nodded. He didn’t have a better plan and Mrs. Hargrove had her cane for protection. Rosie would be fine with the older woman there.
He wrapped the knit scarf around his ears and stepped out of the cab. Then he slid the driver’s seat forward so Mrs. Hargrove could climb out. He folded her arm close to his one side and used the other side to grip his cane. She carried her cane. By the time they got to the door, it was open and a brown-haired slight woman stood there looking anxious.
“Good to see you, Mary,” Mrs. Hargrove said graciously.
“I’m glad you came,” Mary muttered as Mark guided Mrs. Hargrove into the warmth of the living room and saw her settled on a straight-back chair. The older woman laid her cane on the floor.
“I’ll be right back,” Mark said to both women and went back out the door.
It didn’t take long to escort Rosie and then her mother into the house.
Bailey had carried the cookies with her and, once she was standing inside the door, she handed them to Mary.
“For the children,” Bailey said with a smile to the other woman. “I know how boys are when it comes to sweets.”
Then Bailey took off her mittens and slipped them in her coat pockets.
“My boys will appreciate them,” Mary said with a shy smile. Mark noticed she was pretty when she relaxed. And not as old as he had thought. “I haven’t had raisins for a while and the oatmeal raisin ones are their favorites.”
“They are Rosie’s first choice, too,” Bailey said.
Mrs. Baker disappeared into another room with the cookies.
Mark stood on the wide mat by the front door and took off his coat. He could see three small figures peeking out from the back of a darkened hallway. He didn’t see the abusive man he’d come to see though.
Mark bent to unbuckle his rubber boots and pried them off. He’d deliberately worn the galoshes because he didn’t want to have to walk around in his stocking feet at a stranger’s house. It was fine to do that at Bailey’s place, but it didn’t feel like something he should do here, especially when the man of the house might want to kick him out before long.
“I’ve got water heating for tea,” Mary said as she came back into the living room. “You’re welcome to come to the kitchen table and have a cup with us. It’ll warm you up quicker than anything else.”
“That sounds very nice,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she stood and removed her wool coat, then draped it over the back of the chair where she’d been sitting. She left the cane on the floor.
Mark saw Rosie scowling into the dark hallway as the adults headed into the kitchen. She clearly knew what lurked there. He hung back to be sure Rosie didn’t get caught up with those boys so that meant Bailey went into the kitchen before him. Mark regretted his actions when he saw the man who was sitting at the table next to Bailey.
She’d only been seconds ahead of him and Rosie, but Bailey looked uncomfortable. This man had his chair so close to her that he was almost sitting on her lap. He wasn’t a slight man either; Mark figured he’d do well enough in a fighting unit. His muscles bulged beneath the tank top he wore. A tattoo of a bald eagle sat on the arm that Mark could see. He suspected there were two crossed bayonet rifles beneath the bird.
“Army?” Mark asked the man. He’d seen hundreds of tattoos in that same design. Most of them had a tagline of US Army beneath it. This man’s probably did, too, and Mark just couldn’t see it.
“What’s it to you?” the man demanded, already aggressive. “You one of those guys that don’t like the military?”
Mark could see Bailey bristling at the man’s question, but Mark couldn’t get his tongue in action fast enough.
“He has a Purple Heart,” Bailey said forcefully. She had turned to face the man directly. “Don’t mess with him.”
The man sneered. “What’s he going to do? Beat me up?”
“I’m thinking about it,” Mark answered. He decided not to sit down since it would take him longer than the other man to get back to his feet. “But I figure there’s been enough beating up on people in this house already.”
Mary gasped and turned to
the man. “Joe, you said Billy fell down. You said you didn’t touch him.”
The man, who must be Joe, didn’t answer. His eyebrows drew together and a frown curled his forehead. He spoke to Mark. “Do what you came to do then and get out of here.”
Everyone was silent until Mark heard a rustling behind him. He turned around. The shuffling of slippers was coming from the boys who were trying to sneak into the kitchen.
“Hi, boys,” Mark said softly. They reminded him of little birds getting ready to take flight at the first sign of trouble.
“Hello,” the tallest of the boys mumbled. The smaller two said nothing.
Mark noticed a purple bruise on the cheek of the older boy who must be Rosie’s Billy.
“What happened to your face, Billy?” Mark asked as he took a step closer to the child. The boy took a step away from him and uttered something Mark couldn’t make out.
Mark looked back at Joe and saw the flash of guilt in the man’s eyes.
“You hit him with your fist or something else?” Mark asked him.
“What kind of a question is that?” Joe muttered, glaring at Mark.
Mark scowled back at him, unwavering and fierce, until finally Joe looked away.
“Kids can be a pain,” Joe said, fidgeting.
Something felt off-key to Mark. He looked closer at the other man. He was hiding something. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” a thin voice spoke up behind Mark. It was Billy. “I couldn’t sleep and I walked into the living room to get a new book the teacher gave me. It was on the shelf. I didn’t even turn the lights on so I wouldn’t wake him up.”
“He startled you?” Mark asked as he turned to Joe.
The man nodded, looking at the floor.
“This happen often?” Mark asked. “Where did you serve when you were in the army?”
The man glanced up. “Iraq.”
Mark nodded. The man’s voice had been flat. He didn’t want to talk about it all. “Some hard times?”
Joe shrugged. “You could say that.”
His Dry Creek Inheritance Page 14