Baby On Her Doorstep

by Rhonda Gibson

  He frowned. “Who says you have to leave?”

  Laura chuckled. “The school board, for one body of people.”

  Clint reached across and pulled her borrowed horse to a stop. “I’m serious.” His eyes searched hers.

  She wanted to tell him she’d stay, but knew she couldn’t. At least not until he heard the whole story of her past. And Laura had no intention of sharing that with him just because he’d invited her to stay on the ranch. Being Grace’s nanny had been all right at first, but now Laura couldn’t imagine living there and loving Clint but not able to express that love.

  “Marry me. I love you and I want you to stay. I’ll be a good husband, and we can raise our children together.” Clint moved his mount so that his leg touched hers. He reached across and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Laura, I’ll make you happy, or do my best trying.” He smiled a nervous-looking grin.

  Laura shook her head. “I can’t marry you, Clint.” She looked down at Hope, thankful the child was asleep once more.

  Sadness filled his voice. “Is it because you don’t love me? You might grow to love me.”

  “It’s because I do love you that I can’t marry you.” She turned her head, not wanting to see the sorrow and disappointment in his face.

  Clint moved his horse away from hers. She felt the loss of his warmth immediately, and her heart broke. Laura couldn’t seem to stop herself. She turned to look at him.

  He had moved away several feet and gotten down from his horse. Clint walked over to her and lifted his arms to take Hope. “We need to talk before we get back to the ranch.”

  She handed the baby over and then slid from the back of her horse. Laura followed him to a nearby tree with a large log leaning against it as if the tree had fallen but landed on its neighbor. When he indicated she sit down on it, she did.

  He paced in front of her. “Let me get this straight. I love you and you love me, but you can’t marry me?” Clint stroked Hope’s back as he waited for her answer.

  “Right.” Laura felt heat enter her face. It was hard enough to tell another woman you couldn’t have children, but to tell the man you love one of your deepest secrets was, well, embarrassing. And made it hard to get the words out.

  “Why? Was it something I’ve done? Is it because you’d have to live out of town? Or that you can’t teach?” He looked desperate.

  “No, it’s me.” She sighed. “I can’t marry anyone.”

  Clint sat down beside her on the log. “Can you explain to me why? You aren’t dying, are you?”

  Laura grinned. “No, I’m not dying.” How could she explain it to him? She looked away, not wanting to face him or for him to see her face. “I can’t marry you because it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  “Honey, you are circling the wagons again. Why don’t you just tell me why not? I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

  She couldn’t take being that close to him. Laura stood. She walked a short distance away and said, “Before my husband died, we found out I can’t have children.” She blew air from her lungs. It felt as if she were going to drown in the pain of having to tell Clint her horrible secret. “After we found out, he hated me. Charles wanted a son.” She kept her back to him.

  Laura couldn’t stand the quiet that her words had brought about. Even the birds had stopped singing their morning songs. She turned to look at him. “Clint, I can’t give you sons. If you marry me, there will be no sons to run your ranch in your old age.” Her lips quivered, so Laura pressed them together.

  “I see.” Clint stood and walked toward her. “And you think that if we can’t have sons, I won’t love you anymore.”

  Tears burned and stung the backs of her eyes. A knot grew in her throat big enough to almost choke her. She loved Clint and now fully expected his rejection.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  What? He was going to ignore her secret and tell one of his own? All Laura could do was nod.

  “Even women who can have children don’t always have boys. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my child at the ranch, she’s a girl.” He rubbed his forehead against hers. “Not a boy.”

  “But if you marry someone else, you have a fifty-fifty chance of getting a boy to carry on your name,” she protested.

  He sighed heavily. “Laura, I’ll be honest with you. Part of the reason I have fought so hard not to fall in love with you is because of Martha. I was so afraid you would die of an infection, too, if you gave birth to a child. But I had come to the realization that fear is no reason not to love. God is in control of everything. So I had to trust that He brought you into my life and He would take care of us.”

  Laura took a step away from him, but Clint pulled her back.

  “I’d rather have the woman I love by my side than take chances on a boy that may never be.” He pulled her close and buried his face in her neck. “Laura, I don’t care about having a son to carry on the Shepard name. I care about you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. What can I say that will make you understand?”

  Laura remembered Elizabeth’s words: “I think you should tell Clint Shepard that you love him and that you cannot give him a son. If he says he doesn’t need a son, but a loving wife, believe him.” She smiled.

  Clint lifted his head. He studied her face for a moment and then smiled. “Is that the look of a woman who is about to say, ‘Yes, I’ll marry you’?”

  Laura nodded. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  He whooped so loudly that Hope jerked away. She looked from the man who was holding her to Laura. “Mama!”

  Clint slid Hope into Laura’s arms and then spun them both around. “You won’t be sorry, Laura. I will love you forever and ever.”

  She believed him. Clint already knew she couldn’t have children, and yet he still wanted to marry her. Laura said a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for sending Hope into her life. If the baby hadn’t been left on her doorstep, she would never have taken the job to be a nanny to Grace, and she wouldn’t have met Clint. Then she said a special thanks to God for sending Clint into her life. He was the perfect man for her.

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later

  Clint paced the floor. What was taking so long? He looked to where Hope and Grace sat on the floor playing with their blocks. They seemed unaware or unconcerned that their mother was about to give birth in the bedroom.

  Camelia looked up from her sewing. “Clint, settle down. First-time babies often take a while.”

  He frowned at her and walked to the hallway entrance. Hearing nothing, he walked back to the living room. Was that a baby’s cry? Clint hurried to the entrance again. Still no sounds of a crying baby could be heard.

  A knock sounded at the front door.

  Clint walked back and opened it.

  “Is our new grandbaby here yet? We came as fast as we could.” Elizabeth puffed as she hurried into the room.

  Camelia laughed. “No, but not because Clint hasn’t checked every two minutes.”

  The girls squealed and ran to their grandparents. Shortly after the wedding, the Maxwells had adopted Grace as their own. They all gave and received hugs while Clint hurried back to the hall entrance. He had begun to think of them as his in-laws.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee or tea while we wait?” Camelia asked Elizabeth, laying down her sewing.

  “I’d love some tea,” Elizabeth answered. She hung her sweater by the door and followed Camelia to the kitchen. He heard Elizabeth ask, “How long has she been in there?” just before they disappeared into the other room.

  The little girls followed, asking for cookies.

  John sat down and sighed. “I still can’t believe that our Laura is going to have a baby.”

&nb
sp; Clint looked at him, thinking the man must be senile. For the last six months that had been all he could think of—Laura was going to have their child.

  He remembered the day he’d taken Laura to the doctor. She’d been sick for days, and he’d feared she had developed some kind of infection. The doctor told him that Laura didn’t have an infection but was going to have a baby. His first reaction had been relief. Then it dawned on him that Doc had just said she was going to have a baby.

  Clint had been horrified. The doctor had sat him down and threatened to slap him if he didn’t snap out of it and act happy. For Laura’s sake, he’d done just that, acted happy.

  Laura seemed unaware of his fear. She was thrilled beyond measure. With the help of Camelia and Elizabeth, she’d been working on the little nursery for months. First painting the room, a soft yellow, then buying the perfect baby crib. She, Camelia and Elizabeth began making baby bedding, clothes, blankets and knitting something they called booties.

  Clint grunted. “I just wish it was over with.” Fears tore at him. Fear that she’d die giving birth. Fear that she might have an infection like Martha and die a few weeks later. How many times had he made her promise not to die? He’d done so halfheartedly. But deep down, the fears still ate at him.

  John stood. “Have you thought of baby names yet?”

  “Laura has thrown out so many names, I’ve lost track.” Clint went and sat down, but he made sure he could see into the hallway, just in case the doctor needed him.

  “Elizabeth said she thought you might name her Rosebud, if she’s a girl and Wade, if he’s a boy.” John’s gaze moved to the kitchen. He leaned forward and whispered, “Did you really agree on the name Rosebud?”

  “No, I suggested Faith.”

  John slapped his knee. “Then you insist on Faith.”

  Clint tried to laugh. “Faith it is.”

  The old man’s face grew serious. “Poor baby.”

  “Poor baby?”

  John sighed heavily as if saddened. “Yep, that child will have to carry the name, Rosebud Faith Shepard for the rest of her life.” Then he burst out laughing.

  Clint stared at him with a frown. Why in the world would they give the baby such a long name? The old man was losing it.

  When he calmed down he said, “You don’t really think she’s going to let you tag on the name Faith, do you?”

  His head felt as if it were going to explode. Clint shook it and stood, just as the door to the bedroom down the hall opened.

  The sound of a squalling baby filled the house. Camelia and Elizabeth rushed from the kitchen, followed by the little girls.

  Clint’s eyes grew wide, and he looked to Camelia for guidance.

  “Go on.” She waved him down the hallway. “You’ve been waiting all day for this moment.”

  Elizabeth clapped her hands. “But don’t forget about us out here. We want to know if our grandbaby is a boy or a girl.”

  Clint hurried to the bedroom door.

  The doctor grinned. “Congratulations, son. Mother and child are doing great.”

  “Thank you.”

  He hurried inside after the doctor to where Laura lay propped up on pillows. She held a squirming baby boy on her chest. His little face was red, and his tiny arms were flailing about.

  Loud cries filled the room.

  Laura smiled up at him. “Isn’t he beautiful?” she asked over the baby’s cry. Then she pulled the baby closer to her, so that he could nurse.

  Quietness filled the room. The baby snuggled close to his mother, content at last.

  Clint reached out and touched the boy’s head. He smiled at Laura. “Do you still want to call him Wade after my pa?”

  “Of course, I do.” She sighed happily.

  The doctor clasped him on the shoulder. “They are both healthy. And there is no sign that Laura will develop any infections. Relax, Clint, and enjoy your family. I’ll tell the grandparents that we have a boy and we’re calling him Wade.” He slipped from the room to give them some privacy.

  Laura looked up at him with big eyes and smiled. She sighed tiredly and said, “God has been good. We are both fine. Thanks to Him I didn’t die on you.”

  Clint responded by kissing the top of her head and saying, “No, you didn’t die. I love you, Laura Shepard. You’re the best nanny and mother a child could have. Not to mention the best wife for me.” He silently thanked the Lord for helping him overcome his fears, one event at a time.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story,

  pick up these other stories from Rhonda Gibson:

  PONY EXPRESS COURTSHIP

  PONY EXPRESS HERO

  PONY EXPRESS CHRISTMAS BRIDE

  PONY EXPRESS MAIL-ORDER BRIDE

  PONY EXPRESS SPECIAL DELIVERY

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

  Keep reading for an excerpt from ACCIDENTAL SWEETHEART by Lisa Bingham.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read this book. I hope you enjoyed it. Clint and Laura’s story is my last book for the Love Inspired Historical romance line. I’m going to miss writing for this line but know that God has other plans. If you enjoy reading my historical novels, please know that I have more coming out, and you can learn about them by going to www.rhondagibson.net.

  I love hearing from my readers, so please feel free to write to me at rhondagibson65@hotmail.com or send a note to: Rhonda Gibson, P.O. Box 835, Kirtland, NM 87417.

  Until we meet again,

  Warmly,

  Rhonda Gibson

  Accidental Sweetheart

  by Lisa Bingham

  Chapter One

  February 21, 1874

  Utah Territory

  Gideon Gault sensed trouble. Something strange was happening in Aspen Valley, something...unsettling. A thread of agitation ran through the community surrounding the Batchwell Bottoms Silver Mine. It bubbled beneath the surface, filling him with anxiety—even though, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

  Pausing at the entrance to the mine, he planted his hands on his hips and squinted against the sun. For the hundredth time that day, he allowed his gaze to sweep over the street beyond.

  “Problems?”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Gideon acknowledged Charles Wanlass, the mine’s blasting foreman, and recent newlywed.

  “I don’t know. Do things feel...odd...to you?”

  Charles smiled. “Odd? In what way?”

  “I don’t know. I just...”

  Charles’s grin grew even broader, and Gideon grimaced. The man grinned a whole lot these days. Ever since Charles had married and adopted twin babes, Gideon’s friend existed in a perpetual bubble of happiness that was beginning to grate on Gideon’s nerves. Especially since Gideon seemed to be surrounded by miners who were afflicted with the same brand of besottedness.

  “There’s something going on,” Gideon groused, trying again to explain the fact that, each day, he grew a little more skittish, a little more suspicious. He woke up with the sensation that something was off-kilter with Aspen Valley and went to bed sure that he’d missed something important.

  But what?

  “Maybe it’s the good weather that has you out of sorts,” Charles offered. His tone was a little too tongue-in-cheek for Gideon’s liking.

  No, it wasn’t the weather. After months of snow, bitter cold and whipping winds, the valley had begun to enjoy a temporary thaw. For weeks, they’d basked in unseasonably bright sunshine. Seemingly overnight, the man-high drifts of ice that had once been pushed up against the buildings had melted to dirty mounds, while the thoroughfares grew thick with mud. Deep puddles made it hazardous to stand too close to the street since the passing wagons threw dirt and grime in every direction. And crossing the road...well, if
a man didn’t want to lose his boots, he needed to use the wooden boards that had been laid down to provide a temporary bridge from the Miners’ Hall to the cook shack.

  But all that was normal for Aspen Valley in the spring.

  So, what had him feeling so antsy?

  Gideon knew why the other men were restless. They lived in dread of the moment when the pass cleared and the fifty mail-order brides who’d been stranded at Bachelor Bottoms for the winter were forced to leave the valley.

  Gideon couldn’t wait for that day. He’d finally have the women out of his hair, his unit of Pinkertons guarding the silver rather than the ladies’ dormitory, and his life back to normal.

  “Maybe you’re just grumpy,” Charles said.

  The man had the all-out gall to laugh and Gideon scowled. “Very funny.”

  “You could drop by the house for something to eat. Willow was planning to bake today. She’d love to fatten you up.”

  Tempting as that thought might be, Gideon shook his head. The last thing he needed was to follow Charles home right after the man’s shift. Although Charles and Willow tended to be reserved in public, Gideon knew they’d be goo-goo-eyed in their own row house. In his present mood, that was more than Gideon could handle.

  “Maybe later. Right now, I need to get to the bottom of this.”

  Jamming his hat on his head, he rested his hand loosely on his sidearm and strode to the boardwalk. Once there, he sauntered in the direction of the cook shack. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten that morning, and he was feeling peckish. This late in the day, he probably wouldn’t find any hot food, but he could grab some biscuits and cold ham and make himself a sandwich. That and a glass of milk ought to chase the restlessness out of his system and help him think clearly.

  Ahead of him, he could see a pair of miners heading toward the Pinkerton offices and he grimaced. Hopefully, they’d keep walking.