“I promise I won’t bite,” Creede said.
The boy giggled and his mother set him down. Creede took the boy’s hand. “Why don’t you tell me about your horses?”
Creede led the chattering boy away.
“He’s good with children,” Mrs. Gaddsen said.
“He had a son.” At the woman’s questioning look, Laurel added, “He died fighting for the Confederacy, too.”
Mrs. Gaddsen’s eyes clouded with sympathy that was left unspoken. She led Laurel into the house, her advanced pregnancy making her slow and awkward.
“You can’t stay long,” Mrs. Gaddsen said, placing her hands on the curve of her belly.
Laurel did some quick subtraction in her mind. William must’ve gotten his wife with child not long before he was killed. But how had he been to Mississippi and back to Virginia in a matter of a week or two? “Did William know you were expecting another child?”
Katy Gaddsen flinched as if struck. “No. He left a year ago and I never saw him again.” She lifted her chin. “What did you have to tell me?”
Puzzled, but realizing it wasn’t any of her business, Laurel pulled her journal out of the bag and out of habit, caressed the cover with a reverent hand. She opened it to the place the ribbon marked. “Your husband died on December 23. Before he died, he gave me these words to pass on to you.” Laurel took a deep breath and pressed a finger to the page, following the lines as she read. “ ‘Don’t let my son forget me. And tell Katy I’ll always remember how pretty the sun shone on her gold hair the day we got hitched.’ ”
Katy’s sob broke the silence and Laurel laid a hand on the young woman’s arm. “You were on his mind at the last.”
The widow broke down, crying in earnest as she laid her head on her folded arms. Laurel went to her knees beside her, patted her shoulder and uttered soothing words.
After a few minutes, Katy pulled herself together and lifted her head. She used a handkerchief from her blouse sleeve to wipe her tear-stained face.
“I’m sorry,” Katy whispered. “I thought I was done grieving for him.”
“There’s no need to apologize.” Laurel returned to her chair. “Women in your condition tend to be weepy.”
“You must think I’m terrible.”
“Why would I think that?”
“Because you know my sin.” Her tone was filled with self-recrimination.
Laurel shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not my place to judge.”
Katy dabbed her eyes and blew her nose then pushed to her feet clumsily. She waddled to the window and gazed outward, giving Laurel her profile. “Will was gone less than a month when Jasper Thomas started coming around. At first he pretended to be worried about me and Willie, but I assured him Ethan, our hired man, could take care of the place.
“Then one day Ethan up and disappears. Willie and me tried to take care of everything that needed doing, but it was a losing battle. Between the bills and the cost of foodstuffs, we were getting more and more in debt, until nobody would give us credit no more.”
Katy dashed a hand across her furrowed brow. “Mr. Thomas said he’d take care of me and Willie if I—” She swallowed hard. “If I signed this place over to him. I told him no. This was Will’s folks’ home. I couldn’t just hand it over. But then Willie got sick. I went to Mr. Thomas, begged him to loan me some money to pay the doctor. The only way he said he’d help is if I did what he asked, so I signed Will’s place over to him. But that wasn’t enough.” A tear rolled unheeded down her cheek and dripped onto the front of her blouse. “It was either whore myself or lose my son.
“When I got word that Will was dead, I was already carrying Jasper Thomas’s bastard.” She turned and faced Laurel. “God forgive me, but there was a part of me that was glad he’d never know what I’d become.”
Laurel rose and moved to her side. “You did what you had to in order to keep your son alive.”
“Jasper owns this place and me, but he won’t marry me.” Her gaze dropped. “And I’m not the only woman.”
Laurel swallowed her revulsion and was grateful Jasper Thomas wasn’t standing in front of her.
Suddenly Katy gasped and pressed her hands to her belly.
“What’s wrong?” Laurel asked, alarmed.
“The b-baby. It’s coming.”
TEN
“Creede!”
He jerked his head up to see Laurel framed in the cabin’s doorway. Even from across the yard, he could see the panic in her features. Keeping his own apprehension tempered so he wouldn’t frighten the boy, he left Willie playing with the kittens near the barn and hurried to the house.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“Katy’s going to have her baby. You’ll have to watch Willie.”
He looked past her, into the cabin. “Have you ever delivered a baby?”
“I’ve helped with a few.”
Her brave words couldn’t hide the tremor lurking behind them.
“Should I go into town and see if they have a midwife or a doctor?”
Laurel shook her head. “I don’t think she wants anyone else here.” She paused as if trying to make a decision. “The baby isn’t her husband’s and she isn’t remarried.”
Creede narrowed his eyes. There was a lot she wasn’t telling him, but a woman’s cry from the cabin stopped him from pressing for more. “If you need help, let me know. I was with Anna when Austin was born.”
Laurel blinked in surprise and a soft smile played on her lips. “You’re a surprising man, Creede.”
He shrugged it off, embarrassed. “Who’s the father?”
Her expression changed to anger. “A bastard by the name of Jasper Thomas.”
Shocked by her profanity, Creede wished there was time to learn more about Thomas. The woman cried out again. “Go to her. I’ll keep an eye on Willie.”
Laurel reached out to snag his wrist. “Thank you.”
Creede gave in to the temptation to cup her warm, silky cheek in his palm. “You’re welcome.”
He hurried back to the boy, grateful Willie hadn’t noticed anything amiss. As he stood just inside the barn in the shade, Creede tried to come up with something to keep the boy busy without straying too far from the cabin.
The kittens scampered away and Willie hopped to his feet. “Wanna go play in the crick.”
“Where is it?” Creede asked.
Willie pointed beyond the back of the house. “Over yonder.”
“Does your ma let you play there?”
He stubbed his bare toe in the dirt. “She don’t care.”
Somehow Creede doubted that. “Why don’t you take me there and we won’t tell her?”
Willie’s face lit with a mischievous grin. “Okay.”
The familiar grin, so much like the one on another boy’s face twelve years earlier, robbed Creede of his next breath. He blinked, fighting the unexpected gut-wrenching pain.
A small hand tugged at his larger one. “C’mon, Mr. Creede.”
He let himself be dragged along by the boy, allowing his thoughts to be caught up in memory’s undercurrent. He pictured Austin’s third birthday when Anna had made a chocolate cake. More of the frosting had ended up on Austin’s face than in his mouth. The first time Austin had ridden a horse, Creede had stayed close to his side, but the boy had urged the mare into a trot. He’d left Creede behind, but Austin had a natural riding ability and he’d only laughed with joy. Then the darker memories came, of Anna’s death and dealing with Austin’s grief and anger, as well as his own. The last argument he’d had with his son had been riddled with accusations and anger—Austin had called him a coward and blamed him for not saving his mother’s life. But Creede had stayed true to his vow to Anna and hadn’t used his revolver. Instead, he’d used his fists but he’d been too late to save her.
Creede wiped at the tickling sensation on his cheek and was shocked to find moisture. He’d tried to tell Austin that violence only begat violence, and guns never solved anything.
But Austin had joined the army and Creede again wore his revolver on his hip.
The creek wasn’t far from the house and Creede roused himself from his bleak musings to watch Willie. The boy squatted down beside the shallow brook. Water riffled over rocks, creating a soothing backdrop to cover the faint sounds from the cabin. Willie found a stick and dipped it into the creek to turn over some rocks. He laughed in delight and Creede hunkered beside him to see what was so funny.
“Crawfish,” Willie said, pointing to one about three inches long. “Me and Ma like to eat ’em.”
“And I’ll bet you like to catch them,” Creede said with a forced smile.
“Uh-huh, but we don’t got a pail.”
“Let’s go back and get one.”
Back in the yard, Creede sent Willie to fetch a pail from the barn while he went to the cabin. Sticking his head in the door, he spotted Laurel with her arms filled with sheets. “Willie and I will be at the creek that runs about a couple hundred feet behind the house.”
Laurel nodded, her cheeks flushed. “I think the baby’s going to come quickly.”
“That’s good. Better for the baby and the mother.” He took a step back. “You know where I’ll be.”
Mrs. Gaddsen cried out from the bedroom and Laurel hurried to her. Creede wished he could do more to help, but knew the baby would come whether he was here or keeping Willie out from underfoot.
As Willie came racing toward him with a pail nearly as big as he was bumping against his leg, Creede wasn’t certain whose job was more difficult—his or Laurel’s.
Laurel barely had the baby cleaned of blood and mucus when the child let out a wail. Laurel grimaced at the ear-splitting sound but it didn’t stop the satisfaction flowing through her.
She quickly severed the cord between mother and daughter, tying off the ends of both with thread she’d barely had time enough to boil in water. The birth had taken a little over an hour and had been relatively easy for the mother.
As air swirled through the infant girl’s veins, a healthy red color displaced the bluish caste of her skin. Laurel took a moment to count the toes and fingers, and found everything perfect.
“She sounds healthy,” Katie said, eyeing the tiny bundle lying on her chest with love and affection.
Laurel smiled. “Healthy, and mad at being forced out into the world.”
Katie’s smile wavered. “I can’t blame her. She won’t have an easy time of it.”
Laurel wrapped the newborn in a clean blanket and set her in the crook of Katie’s arm. She couldn’t help but brush the baby’s cheek with the backs of her fingers. “I know it’ll be difficult, but you have to remember, it wasn’t yours or your daughter’s fault that she was born.”
Katie stared into the baby’s wrinkled face. “By assigning fault, I’m as much as saying I’m sorry she was born.” A tear trickled down the side of her face into her sweat-dampened hair. “And looking at her, I can’t ever be sorry for that.”
“I’m glad. A child shouldn’t be punished for the sins of her father.”
“And mother.”
“No,” Laurel said firmly. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You committed no sin and did nothing wrong. You did what you had to in order to save yourself and your son.”
“My, isn’t this a touching scene?”
Laurel whirled around, shocked by the man’s voice. Her eyes widened at the sight of the suited man who’d been sitting in front of the hotel.
“What are you doing here?” Laurel demanded.
Katy grasped her hand and whispered hoarsely, “That’s him. Jasper.”
Laurel should have realized it by the man’s arrogance and the asides he’d made about the War widows. He’d used the War and families’ hardships to create his own empire as good men died on bloody battlefields.
“You loathsome bastard,” Laurel said in a voice quivering with rage.
“Seems to me there’s only one bastard in this room.” Jasper Thomas’s gaze fell on the innocent infant.
Laurel flung herself at Thomas, only to be thrown aside like a rag doll. Her shoulder struck the wall but the pain did little to dim her anger. Holding her injured arm, she glared at the revolting man.
Suddenly Thomas was yanked around and punched in the jaw. He stumbled back and Creede rushed in, fists held at his sides.
“Laurel, are you all right?” he asked, his rugged face filled with concern.
She nodded. “That’s Jasper Thomas. He-he’s the father of Katy’s child.”
Creede’s gaze darted to the blonde woman in the bed, her blue eyes wide and frightened.
“He used her,” Laurel said in a voice only he could hear. “Just like he’s used a lot of other women in town.”
Creede’s expression went from solicitous to murderous as he turned his gaze to Thomas, who was standing hunched over with a hand to his cheek.
“Not so brave when it’s not a woman, are you?” Creede taunted. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet you’re nothing but a chickenshit coward when it comes to facing a man.”
Thomas’s eyes glittered with hatred. “Who the hell do you think you are, coming into my town and insulting me?”
Creede’s laughter chilled Laurel and she moved closer to Katy and her baby. This was a side of Creede Forrester she’d never seen before, and she wasn’t certain how she felt about it.
“You have no right to use the women of this town,” Creede said, his cold humor replaced by scalding fury. “You’re a sorry excuse for a man and I think it’s time everyone knew it.” He leaned down and pulled a knife from inside his boot. His gaze fell to Thomas’s crotch, his meaning obvious.
Laurel swallowed her aversion to Creede’s implied threat, yet she couldn’t find it in herself to argue against it. Thomas had forced Katy Gaddsen while her husband fought for their way of life, a way of life that didn’t include stealing from and despoiling women.
“Y-you can’t do that,” Thomas sputtered.
Creede’s smile sent an icy chill down Laurel’s spine. “Oh, I think I can. I’ve castrated some calves in my time. Can’t be much different. Course, I haven’t sharpened my knife lately.”
Thomas’s face became a pasty white. “You’ll kill me.”
Creede shrugged. “Maybe, but then maybe I won’t. Which would you prefer?”
Suddenly Willie rushed into the bedroom and Creede scooped him up before he could get close to Thomas.
The boy’s eyes were wide and frantic as he stared at his mother. “Ma!”
“It’s okay, Willie,” Katy said, her trembling voice barely above a whisper. “I’m all right.”
Then the baby started crying, proving her lungs were more than healthy, and Willie struggled to escape Creede’s hold. Creede released him, but kept himself between the boy and Thomas.
“Now what are you going to do, mister?” Thomas asked, his bravado returning. “Going to cut me in front of the boy?”
Creede growled and Laurel knew he was tempted.
“Get the hell out of here,” Creede said.
Thomas eyed Katy and the baby. “I’ll be back later to see my daughter.”
Katy inhaled sharply and Laurel laid a calming hand on her arm even though she, too, was distressed by Thomas’s assertion.
Creede followed Thomas out and for a moment, Laurel wondered if he wouldn’t make do on his threat to emasculate the man when they were out of sight. The possibility made her stomach queasy but didn’t rouse her conscience. Jasper Thomas was worse than a rattlesnake. A snake only bit when it was threatened or disturbed, but Thomas preyed on his victims out of greed and lust.
She glanced down to see Katy trying to get her baby to suckle. Willie watched in fascination as he kept murmuring, “My little sister.”
Luckily the infant was as quick in figuring out how to get her mother’s milk as she was in coming into the world.
“Laurel,” Creede called from the front part of the cabin.
She smiled reassuringly at Katy and
hurried out to Creede. “Is he gone?”
Creede clenched his teeth. “Yes, but he’s going to be trouble.”
“He’s already been trouble. The man has to be stopped. Isn’t there some law officer in town?”
“Probably, but what would he arrest Thomas for? Do you think the women will admit to being used by him? And even if some step forward, who will the lawman believe, them or an upstanding citizen like Thomas?”
“We have to do something. We can’t let him continue doing what he’s been doing.”
“Short of shooting Thomas down like a mad dog, I don’t see how we can stop him.”
Laurel shook with anger. “But he’ll just keep terrorizing Katy and others like her. He’s just like the men who hurt your mother.”
“So you want me to call him out then shoot him?” he asked flatly, his cold gaze drilling into her.
Startled out of her anger, she shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Would that be so bad?”
Creede turned away. “You want me to do your dirty work.”
She didn’t know if the cutting sarcasm was directed at her or himself. “It would be justice.”
“With you as judge and jury?”
“You were judge and jury for your mother’s rapists.”
“And my wife’s killer, except I used my hands that time.” He turned and faced her. “So, which do you want me to use, Laurel, a gun or my fists?”
The matter-of-fact words punched her, stealing the air from her lungs. She was again playing God, deciding who lived and who died. Only this time she was using Creede as the executioner.
Suddenly feeling sick, she pressed her hands to her belly. “I-I’m sorry, Creede. I had no right.”
Creede’s tense shoulders slumped but his expression remained unreadable. “You’re right about one thing. If someone doesn’t stop him, he’ll keep getting away with it.”
Laurel latched onto his wrist, feeling the warmth of his skin over firm sinew and bone. “But it’s not your job to stop him. You wouldn’t even be in this town if not for me.”
Creede laid his large hand over hers. “What if you were in Katy’s position? What would you want?”
A Reason To Live (The Forrester Brothers) Page 12