The Cowboy's Baby

by Linda Ford

  Father returned from his morning prayers, his step light. He’d plainly enjoyed his time with God.

  She needed some time alone with her Lord, as well. Time to pull her worries into submission. Time to find her peace.

  Knowing Colby might show up any moment to start repairs, the church would no longer be a place of refuge for her.

  Another reason to resent the man’s reappearance in her life.

  She sighed inwardly, her weariness increasing with each moment.

  Breakfast was almost ready and she called Alex but didn’t wait for him to get dressed before she informed Father the meal was ready and put Dorrie in her chair. Neither of them could bear to wait for their morning meal.

  As she helped Dorrie with her glass of milk she suddenly paused and lifted her head. “Do you smell something burning?” Since the fire any hint of smoke sent her scurrying to check the nearby buildings, her heart twisting with fear. The flames had come dangerously close to the house. She’d never been so afraid nor prayed so hard. God had answered that prayer.

  God had turned the tragedy into blessing in many ways—people had come back to Him like prodigal sons, cause for much rejoicing in many homes.

  She raced to the window without waiting for an answer from Father about the smell of smoke. Flames licked skyward from the churchyard. “Fire,” she called.

  “It’s probably Colby burning garbage.” Father sounded so calm she knew he expected it.

  “He’s at the church already?”

  “He was there when I arrived. Already had some boards pulled off the wall. Seems eager to get the work done.”

  As she stared out the window, Colby sauntered over and tossed some boards into the flames. He’d filled out over the years. Looked like he could handle any physical challenge. She blinked back a hard stinging in her eyes. He could certainly toss an armload of wood but could he handle problems? How long before something sent him riding out of town? Again.

  Then she realized what he was doing.

  The cross. She thought she’d have lots of time to rescue it. “Father, watch Dorrie. I have something to look after.” She didn’t wait for him to ask what was so important to take her away in the middle of serving a meal.

  She picked up her skirts and ran to the back entrance of the church. She didn’t slow until she faced the wall. The raw boards had been peeled away. Much of the damaged area had been knocked down. The cross was gone. She stood in ashes, disappointment burning through her veins.

  Colby sauntered in, whistling through his teeth. “Morning.” He picked up bits of wood.

  “Where is it? Did you burn it?”

  “Burn what?” He paused on his way to the door.

  “The cross.”

  He grinned. “Thought you said to.”

  “I didn’t mean it. I wanted to save it.” She pressed her lips tight to stop a wail from escaping.

  “Hang on a minute while I dump this armload.” He disappeared out the door. She heard a clatter and caught a whiff of smoke.

  She hadn’t moved. Didn’t know if she could. Her failure left her stunned and immobile. It was only a piece of wood. She knew it had nothing to do with God’s power, His ability to answer prayer, His love or anything of importance. She didn’t need the cross to communicate with Him. Or hear Him speak through His holy word. She knew all that. The cross had no significance except as a sentimental reminder of all He’d done.

  She heard Colby return but didn’t bother looking at him. The shard of annoyance she felt toward him was foolish and out of place. He’d only done what she said. She’d been rash in her words and regretted it from the moment she’d uttered them.

  “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

  She shook her head. She wasn’t interested in anything he had.

  He grasped her elbow, gently turning her about.

  His touch fired up her nerves like flames. She jerked back. She didn’t want him touching her. Didn’t want him reawakening feelings and awareness she’d fought so fiercely to quell.

  But he wasn’t about to let her discourage him. He again took her elbow, a little more firmly, and steered her relentlessly toward the back into the cloakroom. Only so he would leave her alone did she let him drag her along. “Look,” he said.

  Her eyes widened like Dorrie’s would if given a gift. Her heart resurrected from the pit of her stomach and exploded against her ribs. “The cross.” The words blasted from her. Fractured, it leaned in an empty corner.

  She rushed over and touched it to assure herself she wasn’t imagining it. “I thought you burned it.”

  He shrugged. “You said to. But I figured there was something special about it. Didn’t find any money behind it. Not even a long lost letter from some beau—” He chuckled at the pained look she sent his way. “So I figured it was the cross itself you wanted.”

  She nodded, unable to find words beyond her surprise.

  “What do you want me to do with it?”

  She knelt to examine it more closely. The fire damage was worse than she thought. “I wanted to save it.” She sat back on her heels and swallowed a lump of disappointment. “I guess I thought there must be some way to repair it, restore it. I didn’t realize how badly it’s damaged.” She pushed to her feet. “Leave it here. Maybe I’ll figure out something.” She couldn’t bear the thought of burning it even though it seemed the only thing to do.

  Turning, she came face-to-face with him, staring into his blue eyes. Found it impossible to sort out her feelings. He’d understood this piece of burned wood meant something to her and saved it. His insight surprised her, shifted her thoughts so she wasn’t able to maintain her anger toward him. “Thank you,” she murmured. “It was kind of you to save it.”

  His eyes blazed with amusement. “I’m really a nice guy.”

  She couldn’t break away from his gaze, knew a jab of regret that what they once shared no longer existed. There was a time she would have told him her doubts and fears. He would have told her his dreams. Just as he’d told her about the harshness he’d suffered at the hands of his father.

  She blinked. Seems he could never run far enough to escape that memory. She tried to protect herself with such knowledge yet something soft as warm butter had eased her anger. “You didn’t come for breakfast,” she murmured.

  “I didn’t know if I was welcome.”

  Guilty as accused. For the moment she couldn’t remember why she should have made him feel so cautious. “It’s not too late.”

  He nodded, a tangle of hope and caution filling his expression. “I’ll be over then.”

  She stepped away, sucked in smoke-laden air that seemed lacking in oxygen, and hurried to the yard, the smoke out there even heavier. No wonder she couldn’t breathe normally. In the house, she placed another plate on the table. She heard Father moving about and went to inform him Colby would be over and suggested he keep him company.

  Father sorted through some books, no doubt looking for a commentary or something.

  She glanced around the room. “Where’s Dorrie?”

  He looked up, surprise widening his eyes. “She was just here.”

  Anna resisted an urge to roll her eyes. Father could become so focused on something the world could fall down around his feet and he’d barely notice.

  “Dorrie,” she called.

  “She’s with me.” Alex’s voice came from his bedroom.

  The impact of what she’d just done hit her so hard she groaned.

  “Something wrong?” Father asked.

  “No.” Not in the sense he meant. But she’d extended a welcome to a man who not only could tear out her heart but rip her family apart, as well. She scrambled to think how she could undo her foolish deed.

  She hurried to Alex’s bedroom. Dorrie’s head lay close to his on the pillow and she scrunched up beside him peering at the book he read to her.

  “Keep Dorrie here for a bit, would you?”

  Alex lowered the book to look at Anna.
“How come?”

  “Colby is coming for breakfast and—” She sent a warning look in Dorrie’s direction.

  “Sure. We’re going to finish reading this book, aren’t we, Dorrie?”

  Dorrie babbled something, pointing at one of the pictures and Anna hurried out, grateful for Alex’s understanding.

  Knowing Dorrie would be safe from Colby for a bit longer, her heart grew lighter and she sang the words to one of Issac Watt’s hymns, “Alas! and did my Savior bleed?” as she fried more potatoes and eggs and sliced more bread.

  She could protect Dorrie. Thank you, God.

  The cross had been saved. Thank God.

  And thank Colby? a fragile voice whispered.

  She’d thanked him. Even invited him to breakfast against her better judgment. And she’d thank him good and proper…

  When he waved goodbye as he rode from town, leaving them in peace.

  Colby tapped on the door then stepped inside and quietly sat at the table. Father poured them coffee. Colby glanced past her as if searching for Dorrie.

  She sent him a look intended to inform him he could eat at her table, rescue the cross she attached sentimental value to, maybe even renew bits and pieces of their old friendship, but he needn’t expect her to let him see Dorrie if she could help it.

  She wouldn’t stand by and let him gaze at the child with the longing and sadness she’d seen last night.

  “Mama.” Dorrie raced into the room, Alex hot on her heels.

  “She wouldn’t stay.” He sent Colby a curious look before he ducked his head, hiding his face.

  Anna scooped up Dorrie hoping to whisk her away before she saw Colby. But she was too late.

  “Da-da,” Dorrie gurgled, adding a whole lot more that no one understood.

  Anger—as unfamiliar as palm trees, as powerful as the fire that destroyed the buildings down the street—raged through Anna. Anger directed as much at herself as at Colby. She’d put Dorrie at risk. But he had no right to come back. Not even if God had changed him, something she wasn’t yet ready to believe.

  Oh, Lord, forgive me. I rejoice that one of Your lambs that was lost has been found. But why, God, did he have to come back here? Couldn’t he just as well start over in California or Alaska?

  She handed Dorrie to Alex and he carried her back to his room. Rather than sit at the table with Colby and Father, she remained at the cupboard, staring out the window at the flames consuming the old lumber from the church, a cloud of gray smoke billowing upward, blotting out all but a blue edge of the sky. Colby’s presence had done the same for her, blotting out all but fragments of her normal peace of mind.

  It was Saturday, one of her busiest days. The Sunday clothes had to be brushed and ironed; the shoes polished; and as Father insisted on observing a complete day of rest, every bit of food for Sunday prepared ahead of time. Normally she anticipated the coming day of rest with nothing much to do unless she counted caring for Dorrie and reading, neither of which constituted work in Anna’s mind. But today she scurried about almost resenting the extra work Sunday required. She could find no peace in her heart or satisfaction in her chores. She ached for a chance to sit quietly before the cross and take her concerns to God, knowing she would find both comfort and guidance.

  Instead, each time she glanced out the window, she caught glimpses of Colby carrying more wood to the fire or standing back considering the building. She wished he would leave.

  The idea cut through her. Not like he’d left before—far away and for many months. Just for the afternoon so she could enjoy a peaceful hour in the church.

  Suddenly she realized she hadn’t seen him for some time. She went to the open window and listened but heard no sound of work from inside the church. Nothing.

  “Alex, watch Dorrie. Don’t let her out of your sight. I’m going to run over to the church.” She couldn’t sit on a pew and meditate in front of the cross, but Father had given her the list of hymns a few days ago. She knew them all. Could play them with her eyes closed, but she’d go over them again. The music spoke to her soul as much as did prayer and Bible reading.

  She tiptoed into the sanctuary and listened but didn’t see or hear Colby. She sat at the piano and was soon lost in the music as she sang the familiar hymns with real joy. She finished and sat with her eyes closed, rejoicing in the beauty of the words, letting the peace they gave her fill her soul.

  The sound of one person clapping jolted her eyes open. Colby sat in the nearest pew. “That was excellent.”

  “Thank you.” She felt no gratitude, only annoyance as she left the piano bench and stood facing him. “Where have you been?” How long have you been watching me?

  He grinned. “Did you miss me?”

  “No and don’t be facetious.”

  “I can’t possibly be facetious seeing as I don’t even know what it means.”

  “It means silly.”

  He tipped his head and smiled.

  She wanted to believe it was a teasing, insincere smile but something serious lay behind the blue glitter of his eyes. Something that reached for her heart. Something her heart welcomed. She slammed shut an iron-clad mental door.

  “I meant it. I enjoy your playing and singing.”

  He spoke in the present tense. Just like the days when he came to the church and listened as she practiced. Not until Rose died did she take over playing in the services. By then she knew the hymns by heart.

  “I remember some of the church songs from when I used to come here.”

  Did he remember the way their hearts had seemed to beat a common song, finding so many things they both enjoyed, almost able to read each other’s thoughts? Obviously it had meant more to her than him or he wouldn’t have found it so easy to leave.

  Why had he bothered to come back?

  She fully believed he would leave again. He always left. The peace she had achieved drained out the bottom of her soul, leaving her edgy and unsettled.

  “You sing them like they mean something real. I enjoyed it. You play even better than I remember.”

  People seldom commented on her playing unless she made a mistake. To hear words of praise melted a layer of her defensiveness.

  “I envy you. Your life has always been filled with God’s word, and songs such as these.” Regret seemed to fill the crevices of his face.

  His words gave her pause. Did he remember she’d told him God didn’t care where they came from, only whether or not they were willing to allow His love into their lives? Basically, since his return, she’d been denying her belief in that truth and guilt burned through her. But it couldn’t get past the hard shell she’d forged around her emotions. She’d trusted him too often and too easily and she wouldn’t be doing it again.

  “Yes, I’ve been blessed. I know that.”

  She wasn’t about to dispute the beauty of the hymns, nor discuss the benefits of her upbringing, something else she could not dispute.

  It took a concerted effort to pull her gaze away from his, which seemed so endless, so hungry, so—she jerked her attention to the scarred wall at the back of the platform.

  “I’ll get out of your way so you can get to work.” As she hurried to the house she wondered where he’d been when she first entered the church.

  It wasn’t until the door closed behind her that she wished she’d confronted him about Dorrie. What were his intentions? Was he about to snatch the child from her? At the idea, she moaned deep inside, beyond sound, beyond reason.

  Chapter Six

  Colby watched fine people in their fine clothes climb the outside wooden steps to the room above the saloon. He didn’t own a suit or anything remotely like it. He wore the best of what he had— a new white shirt he’d purchased at the mercantile and his best pair of black trousers, brushed clean. But it didn’t seem quite fitting. He felt more like his father’s son than a changed man and fell back into the shadow of the mercantile store as he tried to decide if he would climb the steps or walk away and find something
else to do with his time— something more fitting for a Bloxham.

  Trouble was—he didn’t know what a Bloxham determined to be different would do on a sunny Sunday morning apart from going to church like all decent people did.

  Would the decent folk think he should be in their meeting place? Or would they think he fit better in the room below?

  He brushed away a persistent fly and continued to watch people arrive.

  A family hurried up the sidewalk, a man with a little boy in his arms and a young woman carrying a baby.

  His heart bucked once before he tamed it. Family. Like he and Anna had both dreamed of. Would it ever be possible for him?

  The man noticed him and headed over, his hand extended. “Carl Klaus.” He waited for Colby to give his name and when he did, Carl nodded. “Welcome. Why don’t you go up with us?”

  His wife came to his side. “I’m Laura, Carl’s wife. These are our children, Adam and Gloria. Perhaps you remember me. I’m Anna’s friend. Have been since we were children.”

  Colby nodded a greeting, his hat gripped awkwardly in his fists. He remembered Laura hanging about when he was younger. Never paid her much attention. Guess he never really saw anyone but Anna and her family. They had been his whole world.

  He wondered that Laura’s friendship with Anna didn’t make her a little less welcoming.

  Wheezy organ music began.

  “We better hurry,” Karl said, and Colby allowed himself to be drawn along with the family, up the stairs and into the smoky interior of the room. He should have felt at home in such an atmosphere but his nerves twitched like a gun had been pressed to his spine. He was aware of glances aimed at him, full of doubt or even edged with condemnation. Not that he blamed any of them. He didn’t belong here with these righteous folk. But he meant to start over as a man, and as a believer. And that meant attending church services.