The WESTWARD Christmas BRIDES COLLECTION: 9 Historical Romances Answer the Call of the American West
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“He’s awful big.”
And tall. And handsome. Beth blinked. Was she actually attracted to the blacksmith? She couldn’t argue that his black eyes and tanned complexion intrigued her, and he was far manlier than the pale men dressed in their fancy clothing she’d known in New York. None of them had ever intrigued her enough to take a second glance, but she could barely keep her eyes off Cade Maddox. Even his name sounded masculine. “Ugh! Stop thinking about him.”
“Who?” Lizzie looked up at her.
Beth shook her head and blew out a loud breath. “Nobody, sweetie. Let’s check on Annie.”
As they stepped into the room, Annie yawned and opened her eyes. She blinked several times, frantically searched the room, and then puckered up. “Pa. Want Pa.”
Beth smiled and sat in the bedside chair she suspected Mr. Maddox had spent the night in. “Your papa is working in his blacksmith shop. Listen, and you can hear him banging his hammer.”
Annie cocked her head then nodded.
“Lizzie and I came to take care of you until he comes home.” She reached behind her and tugged Lizzie forward.
Annie stared at the girl for a long moment then smiled. She looked to one side and the other and pointed at Lizzie’s doll. “Baby.”
Beth reached across the bed and retrieved the toy and handed it to Annie. She glanced at Lizzie to see if she was upset that the younger girl hugged her doll, but she didn’t seem to be, and Annie hadn’t cried for her father again. Beth wasn’t quite ready to relax yet. “Lizzie, would you please fetch my basket. I imagine Annie must be hungry.”
“Me firsty.” Annie used her wounded arm to try to push up and cried out.
“Shh … It’s all right, sweetie. I know it hurts.” Beth cupped Annie’s cheek. She needed to get some food and drink down her and then more of the pain meds. The best thing Annie could do was sleep for the next few days. Her hopes of taking her outside were obviously premature.
An hour later, Annie was fed and back asleep. Beth had stared at the mess in the kitchen as long as she could. “Lizzie, why don’t we bless Mr. Maddox and do the dishes?”
Lizzie wrinkled her nose. “I’m drawing a picture for Annie right now.”
Beth turned away lest the girl see her smiling. She set a fire in the stove and filled the reservoir with water as well as another pot, which she set on a burner. She unwrapped the piece of meat she’d purchased at the mercantile and put it on to boil so they could have stew for lunch.
She scraped as much of the dried grime as she could into the slop bucket then washed the dishes. When she finished, she wiped down the table, chairs, and counters. Standing back, she admired how the kitchen gleamed, from its bright gingham yellow curtains to the oak table and chairs to the fine black stove with the gold crescent symbol on the oven door. The quality of the house and furniture had been a surprise. Mrs. Maddox must have had good taste.
Footsteps sounded on the porch, and Mr. Maddox walked in. He crossed through the parlor, and when he stepped into the kitchen, his eyebrows rose. “You cleaned up. Wow. Thank you.”
The warm smile he sent her was all the reward Beth needed. He looked so much handsomer when he smiled and his eyes twinkled.
He sniffed the air. “What’s that delicious smell?”
“Just a piece of beef boiling. I’m making stew.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean for you to do all of this.”
“I know, but I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing while Annie slept. Oh, by the way, I got her to eat a few bites of a muffin I brought, and she drank some water. Then I gave her more of the powder. She’s sleeping again.”
He nodded. “Good.” He shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable, then spun around. “Gotta get back to work.”
Beth walked to the door and watched him rush back to his smithy. Did she make him nervous? Or had she upset him because she’d cleaned his kitchen? Or did smelling the cooking food bring back memories of times he’d shared with his wife?
She wished he would have stayed a bit longer, because she’d like to get to know him better. But then, she was here so he could work. She sighed. There was no sense in allowing herself to be attracted to Cade Maddox. Soon she’d be on a train, leaving Advent behind.
Besides, her father would never approve of her having a relationship with a blacksmith.
Cade pounded his hammer, finding some relief from his stress in the loud clang. The sight of Miss Ruskin in his clean kitchen, along with the homey aroma of food sent his mind wandering in a direction it shouldn’t go. He slammed down the hammer again, focusing on the task of making a new spade to replace the one that had split. The handle was strong and could be reused, and with the spade he made, it would be good as new. He glanced at the railroad man who’d remained behind while the other walked over to the mercantile. “How long before the train will be able to back out of town?”
The man, sitting on Cade’s chopping block, shrugged and stretched. “Another day or two if we don’t get no more rain.”
One day—maybe two—before he had to make his decision.
He stared into the flames, remembering the big open gash on Annie’s soft skin. It was his fault she’d bear that scar the rest of her life. His fault that she was frightened and in such horrible pain. He wasn’t cut out to be a father. Yes, he loved the girl as much as if she’d been born to him and Nellie, but he wouldn’t risk her life for his happiness. She deserved a mother as much as a father, and he wasn’t likely to find another woman who would see something in him worth loving like Nellie had. The thought of living out his days alone didn’t sit well, but not many women wanted a bear of a blacksmith to cuddle.
He fought the sting in his eyes and raised his hammer again. He didn’t normally dwell in self-pity, but he’d lost the woman he dearly loved, and if he followed through with his plan, he’d lose Annie, too.
By noon he’d finished repairs on the train tools and sent the men on their way. He paced to the back of his shop and then to the front again. He wasn’t one to put off making a decision, and the sooner he made this one, the better it would be for everyone. He scrubbed his hand across his nape, hating what he knew he had to do. But it would be better for Annie. The girl needed more than a father who worked so much. She needed a mother—and he couldn’t give her that. As much as it pained him, he had to let her go.
Cade hurried to the table where he kept track of the jobs that came in and pulled a piece of paper off a shelf. He quickly penned a note: TEMPORARILY CLOSED. Then he shut the doors of the smithy, locked it, and tacked up the note. He strode to the back entrance, placed a large iron top over the orange embers in his forge, and locked the rear entrance.
He glanced at his house as he made a beeline for the barn that sat behind the smithy, trying not to think of the domestic scene inside. Maybe if Miss Ruskin wasn’t leaving, he might see if there was a chance he could gain her interest, but her father was going to the Arizona Territory, and no doubt she’d go with him. Too bad. She was the only woman to have caught his eye since Nellie.
Cade groomed Hercules and saddled the big horse then led him around to the front of the house and tied him to the porch railing. After washing up, he stopped in front of the door, steeling himself. “God, help me. You know it’s best for Annie to have both a ma and pa. Help me to let her go.”
As he opened the door, he squeezed away the burning in his eyes. Other than burying his wife, he’d never done anything so difficult. He needed to do it fast before he changed his mind.
Cade stepped into the kitchen, and Miss Ruskin turned from the stove, carrying a bowl of stew.
She smiled. “Perfect timing. Annie is still awake, I believe. She ate some stew and is ready for another nap. Why don’t you go see her before you eat?”
Cade swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d thought to take the coward’s way and not see Annie again, but he couldn’t.
Lizzie slid out of her chair, rushed around the table, and took hold of
two of his fingers. “C’mon, Mr. Max. Let’s go see Annie.”
He smiled at the girl’s mispronunciation of his last name. “All right. You lead the way.”
“Lizzie, you need to come and eat. Let Mr. Maddox and Annie have some time alone together.”
The girl glanced up at him and frowned. She pushed her glasses up her nose then released his hand. “Aww … all right.” She climbed back into her chair. As Cade entered the bedroom, he heard Lizzie say, “If they’re together, how can they be alone?”
How ironic. Cade gazed down on Annie, feeling more alone than he had in years.
She yawned then opened her eyes and smiled. She lifted her uninjured arm up. “Pa! Hold you.”
He picked up the little girl and cuddled her against him, rocking her as he had done the first days she’d come to live with him when she’d been scared and everything had been new to her. She was a year and a half older now. Would the transition to another home be easier? Please, Lord, make it so.
Annie grew heavy, and he realized she’d fallen asleep. He kissed her forehead gently and laid her in his bed. He brushed the wispy blond hair from her face and stared down, memorizing it. If he didn’t love her so much, he’d never let her go. But it was better this way.
He turned away from the bed, taking a moment to compose himself, then walked back into the kitchen, ready to explain to Miss Ruskin that he was leaving. The delicious aroma of the stew made his stomach growl.
Lizzie pounded on the table. “Mr. Max! Sit by me. Right here.”
Cade stared down at the place Miss Ruskin must have set for him. Steam rose from the bowl of vegetables and beef, tantalizing him. He didn’t know when he’d eat again, and even though he had no appetite, the food enticed him as much as the little girl’s invitation. He drew out the chair, waited until Miss Ruskin set down a bowl of biscuits and was seated, and then he took his seat.
Miss Ruskin caught his eye. “I had expected Poppa to join us, but he must have been called away. Would you mind blessing the food, Mr. Maddox?”
Cade nodded, staring at his bowl of stew. He could be thankful for the food, but the situation was breaking his heart. He mumbled a quick prayer for the food and the hands that prepared it then wolfed down his serving along with three biscuits. His left leg jiggled, shaking the whole table. He forced it to stop, only to find it doing the same thing a minute later. He swiped his sweaty palm on his pant leg.
“Annie’s getting better.” Lizzie gazed up at him, biting into her biscuit.
“It seems so.” He smiled and nodded. In another year, would Annie be talking as well as Lizzie?
He looked at Miss Ruskin. There was one thing he had to be certain of before he left. “Is it true that you work for the Children’s Aid Society?”
She nodded. “Yes, it is. I got lonely with Poppa being gone so much and started volunteering there. It was hard to leave last time I was there, knowing I’d never be back.”
“That’s a nice thing you did—working with orphans. I reckon you don’t know that my Nellie and I got Annie from one of those Orphan Train agents.”
“You did!” She sat back in her chair. “No wonder she doesn’t look like you. I just figured she resembled her mother.”
“Nellie had blond hair, and I think that’s one reason she was partial to Annie—that and her being so young.”
“How old was she?”
“Just shy of two.”
“Lizzie is the youngest of the children I brought west.”
“I’m four,” Lizzie piped up.
“My, you’re a big girl.” Cade smiled at Lizzie then shifted his gaze back to Miss Ruskin. “Have you done that before—taken children to families?”
She shook her head. “No, just this once. When the director of the orphanage learned where we were going, she offered to pay my fare if I agreed to take some children to their new homes. Poppa wasn’t thrilled with the idea of traveling with ten children, but not having to pay my fare won him over.”
Cade had learned what he needed to know—that she really did work for the Orphan Train. She may not be happy about finding a home for Annie, but she would. Miss Ruskin had a good heart, and he felt certain she would find a nice home for Annie.
“Would you like some more stew?” Miss Ruskin stood, and Cade shot to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair. He steadied it and pushed it back in place.
“No thank you. It was very tasty though. I do need to talk to you”—he glanced at Lizzie and then her guardian—“in private, if possible.”
“Oh, of course. Lizzie, please finish your meal and listen for Annie while I talk to Mr. Maddox on the porch.”
The girl nodded and waved at Cade. She wasn’t making his leaving any easier. How was it no one had wanted the little charmer? If he were married, he’d adopt her faster than a hammer could hit an anvil. He returned her wave and smiled then sobered as he walked through the parlor.
Miss Ruskin crossed her arms. “It’s gotten cooler out since this morning, don’t you think?”
He glanced up at the trees, noticing the way they swayed in the breeze. He’d been so lost in his deliberation that he hadn’t noticed. “The wind’s out of the north. Usually cools down when that happens.”
She stared in the direction of the trees. “Do you think we’ll get more rain?”
Cade looked up at the blue sky. Was she worried she wouldn’t be able to leave soon? “Doubtful.”
“That’s good. So, what did you need to talk about?” She gazed up with curious blue eyes.
He hated ruining her day, but he was sure to. He rubbed his neck, trying to find the words to express what he felt. It was important to him that she not think he was a yellow belly snake for giving up his daughter. But there was no easy way to say what he had to. “I … uh … when you leave, I want you to take Annie with you.”
Chapter 5
Beth stared at Mr. Maddox, unable to comprehend what he just said. “What do you mean?”
He turned away and leaned on the porch railing. “As much as I want to, I can’t keep Annie. Her recent accident proves she isn’t safe with me. If she got hurt again …” His voice cracked, and he shook his head.
Full of compassion, Beth walked over and stood beside the big man, noticing the horse tied to the railing. Was Mr. Maddox going somewhere? Surely he hadn’t meant what he’d said about her taking Annie. She could see he was hurting, and somehow she had to find a way to show him that his feelings were normal. How many times had she comforted upset parents while her father tended their children?
She reached out and touched his arm, surprised at the hardened muscles even in his forearms. “Surely you realize that few children grow up without getting hurt or sick at some point. Why, my father is a doctor, and I fell once and hit my head, requiring sutures. See?” She lifted the hair off her temple, revealing the small scar she knew was there.
He stared at it then shook his head. “A blacksmith’s shop is no place for a little girl. I can’t take a chance on her getting burnt if she touched the forge when I’m not looking.”
“Surely you could hire a woman in town to watch her. There has to be someone.”
“There isn’t. Believe me, I’ve looked.” He turned and faced her, anguish etched in his expression. “Please, Miss Ruskin. Take Annie and find her a Christian home with a man and woman who’ll love her and care for her as she deserves.”
The pleading in his voice brought tears to her eyes. She’d already tried to place Lizzie, who was healthy—other than needing spectacles—but she had failed so far. How would she find someone willing to take in an injured child? Annie’s arm would take weeks to heal, and by then Beth and her father would be in Arizona. She had no idea what to expect there. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. There’s no guarantee I can find a home for her.”
He stepped back, blinking his eyes. “I’m not asking, Miss Ruskin. I’m a danger to Annie. She deserves better than me. Find her a new family.” He spun on his heel, ran down the stairs, a
nd mounted his horse.
Beth followed him, her heart pounding. “No! Wait!”
“I’m sorry.” He stared down at her with sad eyes then reined the horse around and galloped away.
Beth stared after him, dumbfounded. The last thing she’d expected from the big, capable man was that he’d run away from a problem—not that Annie was a problem. She sympathized with his difficult situation and was sure there had to be another answer. Giving Annie away wasn’t an option, not as far as she was concerned.
She walked up the steps to the porch then turned and looked in the direction Cade had ridden. All she could see was the dust stirred up from his horse’s hooves. “Help him change his mind, Lord. Send him back.”
Annie needed him. She needed him. She didn’t get a chance to tell him that she had no authority to accept Annie. Her contract was to deliver the ten children in her care, and she’d done that—all except finding a home for Lizzie. Sadly, the couple who’d planned to take her changed their minds when they saw her glasses. Who would have guessed that the man’s brother was blind and he wasn’t willing to take on a child who might face a similar fate, as unreasonable as it had been?
Beth sighed. Poppa would not be happy about this unforeseen event.
For the next few days, they were stuck in Advent, but surely the railroad personnel would have the tracks cleared before long. She prayed that Cade came to his senses before that day arrived. His abandonment of his daughter and putting her in such a predicament angered her, yet she’d seen how the decision had devastated him. No matter how much it hurt him to give back his daughter, he’d done what he had for her safety, and Beth admired that.
She walked back in the house, her emotions swirling from anger to heartache for both father and child. Annie had gotten used to her and Lizzie, and Beth felt Annie would be all right for a few days without Cade, but she was bound to miss him.
And how did one explain to a three-year-old that her poppa could no longer keep her?
Three days later, Cade walked around the house he grew up in, surveying the work he’d done and making a list of what still needed fixing. He had neglected the old house since Nellie’s death, as he had worked hard to get over the pain of her loss, to take care of Annie, and to keep his business going in a town too small for an adequate influx of work. He ought to sell the small ranch, but he had wanted to have it to fall back on in case he didn’t make enough as a smithy to support him and his daughter.