Love Inspired Historical November 2017 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

  Sterling turned toward her, but she kept her gaze rigidly forward.

  “She’s right,” Otto declared. “I’ve known those two brothers since they were babes. They’re thick as thieves.”

  The reverend rocked back on his heels. “All right, then. Everyone in this room agrees, for the moment, that Sterling and Heather are telling the truth. How do you propose we convince the rest of the town?”

  “That there is a real problem.” Otto slapped his hat against his thigh. “Folks are going to expect the two of you to get hitched, and quick.”

  “Out of the question,” Sterling announced.

  Heather crossed her arms. “You needn’t make it sound as though it’s a hanging offense.”

  As though this day wasn’t already humiliating enough.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” Sterling’s face suffused with color. “I was thinking of Dillon.”

  “There is nothing between the two of us.” Heather bit her lip and collected herself. “There never was.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “Enough,” the reverend interceded. “Arguing will get us nowhere. Both of you claim that you’ve never seen the child before today. That’s where we start. Where was the child before this afternoon when she arrived at the train depot?”

  The emphasis he put on claim gave Heather pause, but she pushed past the doubt. “If we can both agree that we know nothing about that child, then someone falsified that Return of Birth. Who has the ability to do something like that?”

  “The question is why?” Reverend Morris interjected. “Why would someone choose the two of you? There is no rhyme or reason to the lie.”

  The slant of his question implied an automatic guilt that set her teeth on edge.

  “Why or who? Both questions lead to the same answer.” Heather tugged on the soggy strings of her bonnet, having been recently abandoned by the babe in favor of a bit of lace on her frock. “If we’re telling the truth, people should believe us.”

  The reverend clasped the inside of his elbow and rested his chin on his opposite hand. “Heather, be reasonable. You must understand how this looks. Just over two years ago, you unexpectedly left town for several months.”

  “If everyone who left town for a few months had a baby, the world would be overrun with children!”

  “This looks very bad for the both of you,” the reverend forged ahead. “Which is a small sacrifice when you consider what this poor child has been through. She’s been taken from her home and put in the care of strangers. We don’t know what’s happened to her family, or if she’ll ever see them again. This is more than an inconvenience we can sweep under the rug. This is a grave responsibility beyond the three of us.”

  Grace grinned, revealing two lone teeth with her silly smile. Unexpected tears threatened, and Heather blinked rapidly. She’d been so caught up in her own troubles, she hadn’t even considered the child’s circumstances. Grace had been sent through the post like an order from the Montgomery Ward catalog. The child must have been cared for at one time considering her health and the quality of her clothing. What had made someone desperate enough to place her child in the care of strangers?

  “If Grace’s mother made the choice out of necessity,” Heather said, “then she’ll be missing her child terribly. Perhaps we can help.”

  Grace reached for her, and Heather folded her into her arms. By the looks on the gentlemen’s faces, the gesture was further proof against her. Perhaps it was the red hair, but Heather was drawn to the child. Grace appeared to be a sweet and loving girl who only wanted to be loved in return.

  Sterling extended his hand, and Grace clasped his finger. She pulled the digit toward her mouth and Sterling frowned.

  “No biting,” he said, his tone firm but gentle.

  Grace released his finger and reached for his hat. With an indulgent grin, Sterling ducked his head and let her grasp the brim.

  “You’re as pretty as a prizewinning peach at a summer fair,” he said.

  Heather’s heart softened toward the child. The poor thing was powerless and at the mercy of strangers. Despite everything she’d been through, the babe appeared remarkably good-natured. Whatever her origins, she was a resilient child.

  “Wells Fargo is a good place to start,” Otto said. “A baby in the parcels is memorable, which means someone must know something. I’ll speak with Nels and see what I can discover.”

  Nels served as the stationmaster, ticket agent, telegrapher, and express and freight agent at the railroad. He never made express deliveries. Never. Given the turn of items people were shipping these days, he’d made a good choice.

  “I’ll travel to Butte,” Sterling said. “I’ll find the porter. He seemed extremely attached to his paperwork.”

  “Is any of this wise?” Reverend Morris tipped his head toward the ceiling in thoughtful consideration. “Someone has treated this child with reckless disregard for her safety. Someone left her on a train. Alone. Even if we find her mother and father, what then? What if they don’t want her back? We have to consider the child’s interests.”

  Vigorously shaking her head, Heather mentally backed away. She had sympathy for the child, but none of this was her responsibility. “I’m sure there’s a charity in Butte that will care for her.”

  She flicked a glance at the smiling child. There was no reason for her to feel guilty. Someone else would look out for her.

  Since gold had been discovered in Montana, the population of the territory had exploded. There was an almost balanced mix of sin and salvation. Churches had sprung up in equal numbers beside saloons. There were plenty of charities in Butte that were far more suited to look after a child. Because there would be implications in keeping the child here. Grave, life-altering implications.

  Except the idea of leaving Grace with strangers caused her head to start thumping. Heather pressed her palm against the pain. Who would abandon such a sweet and innocent smile?

  The reverend’s expression remained somber. “If Sterling is unable to locate the parents, leaving the baby in Butte will only make matters more difficult for both of you in Valentine. Folks are already convinced she’s your daughter. If you simply abandon her, they’ll assume the worst. If we can’t discover the truth, you’ll be branded with an unpleasant reputation. You’ll have to leave Valentine, or stay and bear the talk.”

  Heather jerked upright. “Surely you’re exaggerating.”

  The throbbing in her head increased. She couldn’t shake an odd feeling of betrayal. The Blackwells had brought her nothing but trouble. She hadn’t lied when she’d told the reverend she had no feelings for Dillon. He was an embarrassing footnote in her life. Through no fault of her own, her name was being slandered along with Sterling’s. Nausea roiled in her stomach. In Valentine, all her difficulties seemed to circle back to the Blackwells.

  Grace clamped her teeth on the pew once more, and Heather eased her away. The child wailed and flailed her arms.

  “Gra! Gra!”

  Heather instinctively rubbed her back in soothing circles and gently shushed the angry child.

  “That’s another thing.” The reverend focused his attention on Grace with searing intensity, as though she might reveal the secret of her origins if he just looked hard enough. “Who is going to watch her for the time being?”

  Sterling coughed into his fist and stared at the tips of his boots. Otto flicked a glance in her direction. The reverend discovered an intense fascination with the button on his sleeve.

  Heather’s pulse picked up speed. Surely they wouldn’t leave the babe with her? She knew absolutely nothing about children. Not to mention that people would judge. And gossip.

  “I don’t think I should be seen with her.” She flashed her palms. “The more people connect us, the more they’ll gossip.
”

  “It’s too late already,” Sterling said. “There are half a dozen curious gossips milling outside the door right now. I’m surprised there isn’t a nose pressed against the window.”

  Heather winced. How many times in the past had she let her own curiosity get the better of her? Not even an hour ago she’d been on the other side of the rumor mill. She’d been part of the crowd. How quickly circumstances had changed.

  She peered out the window and immediately jerked back. Sure enough, a half dozen people were milling about. Gracie reached for one of her earbobs, and Heather ducked out of reach. She’d done plenty of things over the years without the benefit of training. Young children were no different. Just as with her students, they didn’t come with instructions. The trick was never showing fear.

  If she didn’t take responsibility for the child, who would?

  “I’ll watch her,” Heather conceded.

  “Thank the Lord for your kindness.” The reverend clasped his hands as though in prayer. “The poor child deserves care. I’ll do my best to stem the talk,” he added. “But I can’t make any promises.”

  Heather’s heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. There had to be a logical reason for the turn of events. By this time next week, her life would be back to normal.

  Except there were moments in life that changed a person. There were moments that changed the course of events, whether a person was ready for the upheaval or not. She had the uneasy sensation this was one of those moments.

  Sterling fastened his coat. “If there’s something to find, I’ll find it.”

  Heather breathed a sigh of relief. By this time next week, this whole incident would be nothing more than a funny story the folks of Valentine whispered about over coffee in the morning. She merely had to care for the child for a few days. Her cousins had only been a year or two older, and she’d cared for them quite often. How much difference did a year or two make in the life of child?

  If only there was someone she could lean on for help and advice. During her time in Valentine, she hadn’t made a single close friend beyond Helen, and Helen was too far away to help.

  As the schoolteacher, she was in an odd position. She’d been young enough when she arrived that she was only a few years older than her students, but much younger than their parents. Now, women her age were busy with husbands and younger children. She had acquaintances, but no one in whom to confide.

  Sterling sidled nearer. “Don’t worry, I’ll find the truth.”

  “I know you will.”

  A disturbing sense of intimacy left her light-headed. In the blink of an eye her painstakingly cultivated air of practicality fled. Then he turned his smile on the babe, and the moment was broken.

  She set her lips in a grim line. His deference was practiced and meant nothing. She must always be on guard around Sterling Blackwell. She must always remember that she was no more special to him than the woman who typed out his telegrams.

  He treated everyone with the same indolent consideration, and yet she’d always been susceptible to his charm.

  She smoothed her hand over Grace’s wild curls. They were both alone, but now they had each other.

  At least for the time being.

  * * *

  A week after Grace’s unexpected arrival, Sterling adjusted his collar and straightened his string tie in the mirror on the way out the door Sunday morning. He snatched his hat from the peg and loped down the front stairs.

  He’d sent a terse telegram to Dillon instructing him to return home immediately. His brother hadn’t been able to attend the funeral, and they’d planned a memorial ceremony upon his return. That was two months ago. From what Dillon wrote in his letters, you’d think the entire West would descend into lawless mayhem without his oversight. No man was irreplaceable. It was time for Dillon to come home and assume responsibility for his half of the ranch.

  Sterling had been given a second chance to set things right. He didn’t have all the answers, but he knew where to start.

  Otto had the wagon hitched, and the ranch hands were already seated in the back. Five men in all, including the foreman, and they each called a greeting. Only Otto had been around during his father’s time. The bunkhouse had been deserted when Sterling returned two months ago. The ranch had fallen into disrepair during his absence. They were only half staffed currently, which meant there was plenty of room in the bunkhouse for him if his brother moved into the house with his new family.

  His step hitched. Could he stay and see them every day? He slammed his hat on his head and strode forward. The right thing and the easy thing were rarely the same.

  Otto wore a frown on his normally placid face. “You got in late last night. What happened in Butte?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  Sterling climbed into the driver’s seat and gathered the reins. “No one knows anything. The employee who gave the child to the porter is missing. To tell the truth, I don’t think he even worked for Wells Fargo.”

  “The whole event was a hoax?”

  “Appears to be.”

  “Sure got everyone’s attention.”

  “I’m guessing that was the point. Someone wanted to make sure Heather and I were publicly named.”

  Otto scrambled in beside him. “What are you doing to do?”

  “I’m going to do what I should have done from the beginning.”

  The late start nipped at Sterling’s heels. At this rate, he’d have to speak with Heather after the services. A curious anticipation curled along his spine. He didn’t know why their names had been thrown together on that piece of paper, and it didn’t matter anymore. He’d had a lot of time for thinking on the way to Butte and back, and some things had become obvious.

  The ranch hands talked and laughed in their usual places in the back of the wagon. Rumors abounded in the bunkhouse, but Sterling wasn’t ready to address the speculation just yet. In the absence of an explanation, hushed conversations grew silent when he passed.

  The reverend’s words had rung in his ears the entire time he was searching for Grace’s true parents. Someone had treated the child with a reckless disregard for her safety. Anyone who did something that callous wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Since no one was looking for the child, he’d ruled out any other explanation.

  As the spire of the church appeared above the horizon, his stomach churned. The ride into town had seemed to take forever.

  The boys clambered out of the wagon and filed by in silence. The reverend was at his usual post—shaking hands in the doorway as people filed into the church. A number of wagons were already hitched beneath the trees. Overhead, slender branches held a few sparse, clinging leaves.

  One of the Forester children rang the church bell, his feet coming off the ground in his enthusiasm.

  Reverend Morris clasped Sterling on the shoulder and pulled him aside. “What did you discover?”

  “Nothing.” Sterling glanced around to ensure they had privacy. “No one knows anything about a missing child. The porter is gone. There’s no matching record for a Return of Birth on file in Silver Bow County. Nobody has reported a child missing, and I had the sheriff send telegrams as far as California.” The search had cost him a pretty penny. Money he didn’t have to spare. “I did everything I could.”

  “This is extremely troubling.”

  “Have you spoken with Heather?” Sterling peered around the reverend, hoping for a glimpse of her. “How is the child?”

  He wanted to give her a sign, something to let her know he’d come up with a plan to put her mind at ease. His arrival the previous evening had been too late for a respectable visit, and he couldn’t risk any more gossip.

  “Miss O’Connor arrived with the Foresters. She and the child are inside.” The reverend tugged on his collar. “Peop
le are extremely curious about the circumstances. I’m afraid your absence has only worsened the matter.”

  “Heather is with the Foresters?”

  “Yes. Apparently Mrs. Forester has been assisting her with the care of the child.”

  Irene Forester was a year or two older than Sterling, and had two young children. Dillon and her husband had been friends as children, which meant they’d be an ally as they weathered the worst of the storm. Knowing the family had already offered Heather their assistance eased his mind.

  Sterling doffed his hat and raked his hands through his hair. “Good. They can help.”

  “With what?”

  “With stemming the gossip.”

  “Then you claim no responsibility for the child?”

  “This isn’t about me anymore.”

  “I see.” The reverend yanked on his lapels. “I’m needed inside.”

  “Wait—”

  The reverend was swallowed by the tide of people entering the church, leaving the balance of Sterling’s explanation hanging in the air. He sucked in a breath and counted to ten. What did it matter whether he explained about Dillon now or after the service? Yet he’d been struck with a sense of urgency since making the decision. He was afraid if he thought about it for too long, he’d lose his nerve.

  He had a choice, and he chose to consider the child as a blessing. God had given him a second chance, and second chances didn’t come along too often.

  As he stepped inside, the eyes of the congregation swiveled toward him. His string tie was strangling him this morning, and he stuck a finger in his collar, then slid into a seat along the back row beside Otto.

  His height gave him an advantage, and he soon spotted Heather and Grace. She glanced over her shoulder and their gazes clashed. Her expression remained inscrutable, and his heart beat a rapid tattoo against his chest. He’d be seeing a lot of her in the future considering they were both going to be living on the same ranch, and he’d best get control of his feelings.