Colby's Child

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Colby's Child Page 3

by Patricia Watters


  As he watched her hips sashaying beneath her skirt, Jason made another vow. He'd find her eager and yielding and whispering desperate little pleas of passion as he brought her to fulfillment. And it wouldn't cost him his mine!

  CHAPTER TWO

  Cradling Lily in her arms, Jenny followed Wilma into the Golden Fleece for the christening, her blue silk dress swishing as she walked. She didn't like treading on Jason Colby's turf, and she’d come close to canceling the event, but Lily was already five weeks old, and a christening in a saloon was better than no christening at all.

  As she made her way toward the room set aside for the event, she passed the legendary bar from Russia—a heavily-carved piece made from dark wood with a whorled grain. Behind the bar was the famed diamond-dust mirror, which reflected rows of brightly-labeled bottles and a pyramid of sparkling glasses. And on the wall adjacent to the bar hung a huge painting of a reclining woman, discreetly veiled, and shaped like a bass fiddle.

  On entering the chapel, Jenny noted at once the makeshift altar, which consisted of a sluice box draped with a hand-stitched covering on which stood a Bible, a silver bowl with christening water, and a wooden cross, all of which were sandwiched between two silver candelabras with flickering candles. Colorful scarves, stretched across the only window, gave a stained-glass look. “It is almost like a chapel," she said to Wilma. "You women have surely gone to a lot of trouble."

  Wilma glanced around the room, clearly pleased with what they had done. "We wanted it right for the little one," she replied.

  Jenny searched the faces in the crowd for Jason, who was nowhere in sight. No doubt still irked about losing the match. How childish he'd been with his flamboyant display, though she had to admit it had been impressive. Of course, that sort of behavior was to be expected from a man like Jason Colby. She'd bruised his ego...

  Raucous laughter from a gaming room above caught her attention. She looked up and saw specks of gold dust shimmering in a pinpoint of light escaping through the floorboards, and wondered if Jason was up there gambling his notable fortune away. His kind lived by gambling and whoring. But when she lowered her eyes she found herself looking directly at him. His gaze was fixed on her, his unblinking stare as intense and expressionless as a hawk. She had no idea when he'd entered the room, but his presence had a decidedly unsettling effect on her. Her heart started pounding, blood rushed to her face, and her cheeks felt as if on fire. But as he continued to stare, she felt a perverse kind of excitement.

  To her annoyance, he flashed a cocky smile. Then he perused the full length of her and winked. Really, it was too much. She nervously jostled Lily in her arms while searching for the man who was to stand in as godfather. Leaning toward Wilma, she said, "I don't see Mr. Spencer. Are you sure he knew he was to be godfather?"

  Wilma nodded. "He knows. I saw him talkin' to Mr. Colby a half-hour ago."

  "Let the preacher pass!" a man called out.

  The crowd parted, and a man wearing a black duster and a wide-brimmed black hat stepped forward. One hand clasping the Bible, the other banging the altar with a fist, he said in a voice intended to be heard, "No more drinks served till this here service is over, except you men can keep drinking whatever you're holding. And see to covering that picture." He pointed to a painting of a scantily-clad woman. That done, the christening began.

  In a booming voice, the preacher recited verses from the Bible, then clutching The Book to his bosom, eyes burning with zeal, he gave a lengthy discourse on the virtues of motherhood. Then he scanned the crowd, and said, "I'll have the child's godmother and godfather now, so you folks step up and be cleansed of your sins." Wilma squared her shoulders and went to stand before the preacher. "And the child’s godfather?"

  Jason stepped forward. "I'm afraid he left town. Unreliable sort. I'll take his place."

  "No!" Jenny cried. "We'll just have a godmother."

  "The child must have a godfather," the preacher insisted, "especially since her own papa’s left this world. Mr. Colby'll do." Before Jenny could further protest, the preacher dipped his fingers in the water and touched them to Jason's head, then Wilma's, then Lily's, and announced, "Ceremony done. And I'll have a shot of rye."

  While the women fussed over Lily, Jenny glanced toward Jason and saw him standing in a circle of men, who shook his hand, patted his shoulder, and treated him as if he were a new father, which infuriated her. She had no idea how he'd managed the godfather switch, but it was obvious he was responsible for Darby Spencer's absence.

  To her annoyance, he glanced her way and caught her watching. The intense look on his face set her nerves on edge. Bidding the women a quick farewell, she left the room, anxious to be away from the man's disturbing presence.

  Once outside, she leaned against a post. Feeling lightheaded and decidedly weak in the knees, she closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath to slow the frantic beating of her heart. No man had ever triggered such a strong reaction, causing her to behave like a silly women having a fit of the vapors, giddy and swooning and needing a whiff of smelling salts. Myles had not so much as made her heart patter. She drew in another calming breath... and another... But before her pulse settled, she felt Lily being lifted out of her arms. Her eyelids snapped open, a short gasp escaped her throat, and she looked into the unwelcome gaze of Jason Colby. "What do you think you're doing?" she said, incensed by the nerve of the man.

  "Taking my godchild before you drop her." Jason cradled Lily in the crook of his arm.

  Lily peered up at Jason. Which infuriated Jenny. He's the enemy, scream your little head off, she felt like yelling. But Lily continued to stare up at Jason with wide, trusting eyes. How ironic, Jenny thought. Lily cried when just about anyone picked her up, but with the person she should distrust the most, not so much as a whimper. She reached for Lily, but Jason deflected her efforts by presenting a thick shoulder. "I'll hang onto my godchild until you've collected yourself," he said, as he started down the boardwalk.

  "I was a touch lightheaded," Jenny admitted, while trying in vain to keep up with his long strides, "but Lily was in no danger of being dropped. Now give her back to me,”

  “I’ll deliver her safely to your cabin,” Jason said, glancing over his shoulder.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Jenny cried, quickening her pace to catch up with him.

  “I’m her godfather. I have a right,” he said, lengthening his long strides.

  “No you don’t. You have no damn right at all!" Rushing after him, Jenny tried to take Lily back, but Jason was too tall, and too quick.

  "Tsk, tsk, tsk," he said in feigned disapproval. "Remember what the preacher said about the virtues of motherhood. Being the child's godfather and responsible for her spiritual upbringing, I insist you refrain from using profanity in her presence."

  Jenny's face burned with ire. "I did not ask you to be Lily's godfather," she said, furious that she could barely keep up with the man, "I chose a god-fearing man. And what happened to Mr. Spencer?"

  "Last I saw he was boarding the stage for Denver," Jason replied. "You've got to watch those god-fearing kind. They're the ones most likely to turn tail and run when called to duty."

  Scurrying alongside, Jenny said, "I don’t believe he would have left without sending word to me. I think you paid him to go."

  "I'd rather call it enabling," Jason replied. "I outlined the duties of a godfather, and compared them to the excitement of Denver and beautiful women, and he chose the latter. I admit, I helped him with a small loan for the trip.”

  "You, you—" Jenny rushed ahead and planted herself in front of him. He side-stepped around her and continued on. "You have your nerve, Mr. Colby," she called after him.

  "Jason," he corrected. "As Lily’s godfather, I insist you call me Jason." He glanced back. "And I, of course, will call you Jenny."

  "You will not! My name is Mrs. MacDonald to you. Now give me my daughter!" She reached for Lily, caught the toe of her shoe on a warped board and stumbled off the w
ooden walkway onto the road, landing on hands and knees in the muck. Scrambling to her feet, she scraped the mud off her hands, hiked up her skirt and rushed after him.

  He stopped, allowing her to catch up. When she did, he peered down at Lily and said, "Certainly is an excitable little filly, your mother. Fortunately she wasn't holding you when she upended herself." He started down the long, wide flight of stairs that led down the hillside to the hamlet of huts and cabins along the road below the town.

  The cumbersome steps slowed Jason down and allowed Jenny to keep up with him. "If you think you can march into my cabin with my daughter," she said, as she descended alongside him, "you're mistaken. And don't think, just because you managed to weasel your way into being her godfather, that that gives you certain rights to her mother."

  Jason's mouth tipped up. "Whatever are you going on about? I merely expect to carry out the duties of a conscientious godfather, which includes delivering my godchild safely to her home. Incidentally, that dress becomes you. I'll see to having it cleaned."

  Digesting his comment, while trying to decide whether she'd been insulted or complimented, Jenny said, "You'll do no such thing. I'll see to cleaning my own dress."

  Jason looked down at Lily. "Stubborn too. I certainly have my work cut out for me, especially since you, my pet, have your mother's red hair and, I suspect, her quick temper. You know what they say about redheads. No, I don't suppose you do."

  "If I am expected to be amused," Jenny said, "I assure you, I am not. Furthermore, I find you unworthy of being my daughter's godfather and I withdraw your rights."

  "You should have spoken up before the preacher gave me that responsibility in the name of the Lord," Jason said. "What time shall I call for dinner?"

  "Of all the—" Jenny's face grew hot. The man was insufferable. "Perhaps I have not gotten through to you, Mr. Colby—“

  “It’s Jason.”

  “Mr. Colby,” she insisted. “You might get your way with every other woman around this seedy little town, but I can assure you, you will not have your way with me. Nor will you come for dinner. I refuse to be subjected to an abrasive, obnoxious, conceited, arrogant boor!"

  "Sharp-tongued shrew," Jason said to Lily. "But I guess that's to be expected."

  "Exactly what is that supposed to mean?"

  "I only implied that you, with your big-city upbringing, would naturally look down your pretty nose at us lesser folks here." He smiled at Lily. "Yes, sweet thing, I have my work cut out for me. And I look forward to every challenging minute of it. I'll stop by tomorrow so your mama and I can get better acquainted."

  "Don’t bother, I won't be home," Jenny said. "I’m riding out to the Dusty."

  Jason let out a short guffaw. “That old mare the town gave you can barely see to put one foot in front of the other. She'd never be able to pull the buggy up the mountain."

  Jenny couldn't dispute that. Not only was the mare so old her eyes were clouded and her lower lip hung down feebly, but she was lame for want of shoes. And the buggy and harness were a marvel of makeshift repairs and unreliable fastenings. "Then why was she given to me if she can't negotiate the hills around here?" she asked.

  Jason shrugged. "Even blind she can find her way around town. But if you want to go to the Dusty, you'll have to suffer my presence because I refuse to let you go alone."

  “You refuse!” Jenny looked at the man, incredulous. “You have no hold on me, Mr. Colby, no hold at all. However," she said in a slightly conciliatory tone, "since I have no idea how to get to the mine, it seems I have no choice but to allow you to take me there.”

  "I'm glad you've come to your senses." At the bottom of the long bank of stairs, Jason turned left on a narrow boardwalk that followed alongside a dirt road and headed for Jenny's cabin. Jenny quickened her pace and rushed around him, arriving at the cabin before he did.

  Standing with her back to the front door, hands on her hips, and said, "This is as far as you go. Now give me my daughter."

  "My pleasure." Jason lowered Lily into Jenny's arms, then braced his palms against the doorframe on either side of Jenny's head, boxing her in. Peering down at her, he said, "I'll come for you tomorrow at noon. We'll be riding in an open wagon so bring a rain cape."

  Jenny held his steady gaze. "Are you always so bossy?"

  "Always." The look of amusement on his face brought flutters to Jenny's tummy.

  Jenny went to move back to put space between them and found herself up against the door, the heavy planks solid, immovable, much like the man standing in front of her. He edged closer, and Jenny realized he intended to kiss her. But she refused to submit readily, and she'd let him know in terms that even a pompous, self-assured jackass would understand. "If you intend to take liberties, Mr. Colby,” she said in a firm voice, “you'll find that even trapped against a door, and cradling an infant in my arms, I can hold my own against a man's advances. And I guarantee, you will be most uncomfortable with the consequences."

  Jason continued moving towards her until his breath tickled her lips. To her surprise, he veered off and pecked Lily on the forehead. Looking at Jenny, he said, "Relax. You've convinced me we're not suited. I'm an abrasive, obnoxious, conceited, arrogant boor, whose company you find objectionable, and you're simply not my type." Tipping his hat, he turned and left.

  Jenny stared after him. He was without doubt the most infuriating man she'd ever had the misfortune of knowing. Turning into the house, she shut the door with more force than she had intended and resolved to be away from home when he arrived the following day.

  But already she found herself conjuring reasons why she should allow him to take her to the Dusty. After all, it held the means for her to get out of this seedy little town and away from the smug, self-assured likes of Jason Colby. But before that time, she’d at least turn his head for the pure sport of it. Not his type indeed!

  ***

  At noon the following day, Jenny peered out the window and saw Jason heading in long strides toward the cabin. Wilma was waiting in the wagon, which surprised her. She'd expected Jason to come alone. But then, he'd made it clear she wasn’t his type. The thought that she had no effect on the man verified what she already knew. With her gaunt figure, dry skin, and lifeless hair, she was as drab as a house mouse. She hadn't always been that way though. Back home, where she'd had creams to soften her skin, and oils to enhance her hair, and fashionable clothes to accentuate her figure, she'd had no trouble turning a man's head. She smoothed her hands over her gray wool skirt. It hung on her like an old rag. And with the stark lines of her high-neck blouse, she looked like a schoolmarm. But it was the best she had for a trip in an open wagon to a mine. She opened the door and was at once aware of Jason's tall, masculine presence. Dressed in a shirt that hugged his chest and stretched tight across his shoulders, and wearing pants that clung to his lean hips, there was no question the man was all male. He tipped his hat and offered a posy of hastily-picked wild daisies. "Good afternoon, ma'am."

  She eyed him warily. "Why are you being nice?" she said. "It seems out of character."

  "I'm trying to make up for ruffling your beautiful feathers yesterday," Jason replied.

  Jenny took the flowers. "I'm surprised to see Wilma," she said, ladling water into a tin.

  Jason stepped inside. "I didn't want you to feel uneasy riding alone with me so I brought her along, even though you would have been perfectly safe.

  Jenny set the tin of daisies on the table and reached for her bonnet. "I'm sure I would have been," she said, positioning her bonnet on her head, "because I made it clear to you what I would do if you made any advances." She walked over to where Lily lay in her crib.

  Jason eyed her with amusement. "I don't believe you find me that objectionable."

  Jenny swaddled Lily in a blanket and lifted her out of the cradle. "You may believe whatever you wish," she said, cuddling Lily in her arms.

  Jason stroked Lily's cheek. "And you, sweet thing? Do you find me objectionable?"
A frown pinched Lily’s brow. "I do indeed have my work cut out for me," he said.

  The doorway darkened and Wilma stepped inside and said to Jenny, "Maybe I should stay with the little one. Looks like rain's on it's way."

  Jenny glanced up at the ominous clouds. From the start she hadn't wanted to take Lily, but she didn't feel right asking Wilma to sit with her, after all the time Wilma had spent already. She looked down at Lily, then said to Wilma, "Are you sure you don't mind?"

  “’Course I don't mind," Wilma replied. "Besides, Mr. Colby’s paying me whether I watch Lily or rustle drinks, and I’d rather be with this little mite than a bunch of crusty old miners."

  Jenny looked askance at Jason, and said, "You're paying Wilma to do this?"

  Jason gave her a sheepish smile, and said nothing.

  Wilma took Lily. "You'd best be going so's you can get back before the rain starts."

  "Lily's diaper is changed and I just finished nursing her so she won’t need to be fed again for two hours," Jenny said. "She should sleep soundly."

  "We'll be just fine," Wilma replied. "Now, you two get on your way."

  Jenny gave Lily a kiss, and Wilma turned and went inside.

  As Jenny walked with Jason toward the wagon, she said, “Please deduct the money you’re paying Wilma from my widow's pension. I don’t want to be indebted to you.”

  “I’m just looking after my godchild," Jason said, "and that’s all I intend to hear about it.”

  Jenny looked at him miffed. What he’d done seemed thoughtful, until he’d ended with, ‘that’s all I intend to hear about it,’ adding the word ‘autocratic’ to his list of shortcomings. "How long will we be gone?" she asked.

  "A couple of hours at most," Jason replied. "I can't take off any more time than that."

  "Excuse me," Jenny said, "but you’re the one who insisted on going, yet you act as if it's an imposition. Perhaps we should not go at all."

 

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