Prairie Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  She’d lifted her son with one arm. He was old enough to lift his head and look around. His gown slid up, displaying a pair of reassuringly chunky legs. Lena still awkwardly held the ax, and the dog stayed right at her side. “You will wait by the barn,” she ordered.

  He looked at her grimy hands. “Wash before you touch her.”

  She skirted around him and disappeared inside.

  Steven stood outside and clenched his fists. He was a man who managed everything, but his world was spinning out of control. His heart and soul ached with an emptiness he’d never known. Just the memory of Jane stole the breath from his lungs. He was helpless—as helpless as his baby daughter. Their fate lay in the filthy hands of an ignorant, low-class farmer’s wife.

  Lena lit the lamp and shut the door. She barred it and didn’t care that she was wasting lamp oil when the sun still hung high in the sky. She didn’t trust that man. How could he have humiliated her like that? She’d been working all day. Of course she was dirty. He’d asked an incredibly intimate favor then had the unmitigated gall to insult her. If it weren’t for the fact that his tiny daughter kept mewling so pitifully, she would have refused him.

  Lena hastily stripped out of her clothes, used the water in the bucket by the stove, and washed up. She put on her clean dress then went over to see the baby. The child was a newborn—barely a day or so, and born weeks before her time. Pitifully thin, she barely managed any sound at all. “Dear Jesus, help me to help her!”

  Lena gently offered herself to the baby. She was so weak, it took patience, but soon she seemed to get the idea and did passably well at suckling. Lena burped her then laid her in the cradle and picked up Johnny.

  A fair bit of time passed—how much, she didn’t know. Lena didn’t own a timepiece. When both babies were fed and changed, she made sure all of her buttons were closed; then she ran a brush through her hair, plaited it into a thick rope, and left it to hang down her back. With a baby in each arm, she struggled to open the door.

  The sunlight was bright after she’d become accustomed to the dim interior of the soddy. By the time she blinked and focused, the man had snatched his baby away. “Well? Did she eat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your boy is big, so he must have quite an appetite. Did you give her enough?”

  Lena’s arms curled around Johnny, and she stepped back. “Your baby is small, so she doesn’t need much. Since she was very hungry, I fed her first.”

  “Good.”

  Good? Not “Thank you,” but “Good”? Lena barely held back a shocked retort. She stared at him then said, “You still have a few hours of daylight. If you ride hard, town is south of here. You could get bottles from the general store and milk from the diner for her.”

  “She doesn’t need that now that she has you.”

  “Mister, I think you’d better get on your horse and leave.” She inched from the doorway back into the shadowed interior of her home.

  “I can’t. Not yet. You managed to satisfy her and quiet her down.” He pointed to two half-pint jars on the ground. “I found those in the barn. Doc said she has to eat every other hour. We’ll stay till you feed her again. You can fill those up, and it’ll get us through the night till I send someone over for more in the morning.”

  Lena gawked at him. “I am no milk cow!”

  His face took on a thunderous look.

  “I don’t even know who you are, and you ask this of me?” Her voice cracked. “Do not come back here!” She hurriedly slammed the door shut and bolted it.

  “Mrs. Swenson? Mrs. Swenson!” He pounded on her door.

  She huddled on the bed. “I have a rifle!”

  “You may as well load and use it on both of us. If you don’t feed her, she’s going to die. As for me—I’ve already lost my wife. If I lose my baby, I don’t want to live, either.”

  Chapter 3

  Only for a week,” she reminded herself as she stepped into Mr. Halpern’s house. Lena looked around at the grand home and felt swamped by her inadequacies. She’d tried to wipe her feet, but her worn boots still left small clods and crumbles of dirt on the gleaming wooden floor. Johnny’s clean gowns and diapers and her nightgown filled the burlap bag she clutched in a shaky hand. She didn’t belong in such a fancy place.

  “Mrs. Axelrod,” Mr. Halpern ordered, “put Mrs. Swenson in the blue room. She’ll stay with us for the next week. Move the cradle in there.”

  “Yes, sir.” The portly woman studied Lena with undisguised curiosity. “Follow me.

  Lena carefully balanced a baby in each arm as she went up a flight of stairs. She walked down a hallway, past several closed doors. Mrs. Axelrod opened a door and motioned her inside. “I’m sure you’ll find this comfortable.”

  Lena tentatively shuffled in and looked all around. A blue satin counterpane covered a cherrywood sleigh bed. Wallpaper sprigged with blue columbines gave a dainty, fresh feel to the room. The washstand had a marble top, and the bureau boasted a snowy doily with a porcelain figurine on it. “I’ve never seen anyplace so beautiful.”

  The housekeeper nodded. “Mrs. Halpern was very particular. She loved making the house look perfect. You’ll have to forgive the boss if he’s grumpy these days. He loved her to distraction.”

  Lena crossed the floor and looked out the window. It was so nice to have real glass panes. She stared out in the direction of her farm and said very quietly, “I understand this kind of pain.”

  “Yes, I guess you do.”

  “I will do my best for his daughter. The farm—I cannot leave it even this long. He promised to have someone go tend it for me. After one week, I must go back to my home.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Lena looked over her shoulder and said in a definitive tone, “One week. It is our agreement. I will not stay longer—I cannot.”

  Mrs. Axelrod opened the burlap bag and busied herself, putting Johnny’s clothes in the second drawer of the bureau. She shook out the nightgown and laid it on the bed. “Did you bring anything else?”

  Lena shivered. “My other dress is rolled up behind my saddle. Once the babies are asleep—“

  “I’m sure Mr. Halpern will have it brought in.”

  “It is muddy. I need to wash it.”

  The woman cast a glance at her and said in a knowing tone, “No wonder, after last night’s storm. I’ll wash it.” “Oh, but—“

  “You are here to see to the baby.” The woman plumped the pillow and flicked a nonexistent wrinkle from the bed. “Best you get that straight here and now. Bad enough Miss Jane didn’t get through the birthing. Mr. Halpern’s going to be a bulldog about the babe. You see to her; I’ll see to the laundry.”

  Lena watched as the woman set her boar bristle brush on the washstand and the Bible on the bedside table. She’d been lucky to grab those last two things—Mr. Halpern had been in such a hurry, she’d barely been able to latch the soddy’s door behind them.

  The baby girl whimpered. Lena cast an apologetic look at the woman as she set both children on the mattress. It was a shame to mess up the perfectly smooth bed, but there was no chair in the room. Lena stooped, untied her boots, and took them off. She washed her hands and couldn’t help noticing how the dainty columbines painted on the edge of the washbowl matched the wallpaper. The linen hand towel was such a fine weave, she felt guilty for using it. She went back to the bed, scooted so her spine rested against the headboard, and dragged a baby to each side.

  The housekeeper stayed in the room. She’d gone over to the window, needlessly straightened pale yellow curtains, and then pulled on gold tassels to shut the heavy, blue brocade draperies. She turned back and granted Lena a tight smile. Lena held one hand over the buttons of her bodice and the other on the Halpern child. “I will take good care of her.”

  The housekeeper nodded. “I’ll be back with the cradle.”

  In the middle of the night, Steven heard a baby. He worried about his daughter. The Swenson woman hadn’t come down for supper. Mrs.
Axelrod said she’d taken up a tray, and that ought to do. They’d need to feed the woman well so she’d be able to nurse both babies. In truth, she needed more to eat, just for her own sake. He’d lifted her into her saddle, and though she was tall and sturdy through the shoulders, the lean shape of her hips and waist made it clear food wasn’t asplentiful on her table as it ought to be. When he sent her back home, he’d be sure to replenish her larder.

  Her son was a solid tyke—chubby and apple-cheeked. Whatever else she did wrong, one thing was clear—she did well by her child. Would she care for him first and neglect his daughter, though? Steven paced back and forth. A small wail hovered in the air then died out. Should he go check?

  Steven fought with himself. He had no business going into the widow’s bedchamber; he had every right—his daughter was in there. After fifteen more minutes of grieving over his lost wife and agonizing about how best to see to his daughter’s needs, he yielded to temptation. He lightly tapped on the door.

  She gave no answer.

  Quietly he opened the door. No light shone inside, but she was probably like a mole or a cat—able to navigate in the dark, after living in that disgusting mud hovel. He set the lamp on the hallway floor and tiptoed in.

  The top drawer on the dresser was open. The back of a chair sat beneath it for support. Why had she done such an odd thing? The cradle lay empty. His frown deepened and his nose wrinkled. Something stank. Diapers. A wad of them lay in a big bowl. The room was a mess. Jane wouldn’t have ever dreamed of letting things get out of place like this.

  He stepped closer to the bed. The scene stopped him in his tracks. Lena was asleep. Her hair billowed in a riotous mass all over the pillow. She lay on her back, her left arm bowed out a bit to hold her son close to her side. His hair was the same pale gold, so it was easy to spy above the dark-colored blankets. Steven’s daughter lay nestled to Lena’s breastbone. A pale flannel blanket covered her, and Lena’s big, rough hand held her fast.

  Pain laced through him. Jane wanted this baby so badly. Jane should be holding her. Jane should be cherishing her soft skin and downy hair and fretting over each snuffle and squeak.

  Instead, a stranger, a woman who worked like a man and lived like an animal, held her. The baby made a soft sound. Even in her sleep, Lena tenderly patted his daughter. Obviously accustomed to dealing with the needs of an infant, she murmured soft hushes. A rough hand. An accent to the voice. It was wrong—all wrong.

  Steven stumbled out of the room, through the house, into the yard. At his wife’s graveside, he stared at the mound of freshly turned earth. Each breath tore at his throat. His chest burned. He leaned against the tree, let his head fall back, and groaned. There were no words for the grief and rage he felt.

  Lena woke early and fed her son then settled him into the cradle. He could sit up, so she was afraid to use the drawer as a baby bed for him. As she carefully tucked the Halpern girl into a fresh diaper, she whispered, “I don’t know your name, princess. I’ll have to ask today.”

  Lena smiled softly as the wee one made a greedy little sound. It was her first, and it was a good sign. As tiny and tentative as she’d been, that reassurance was welcome.

  After a while, Lena turned over and let her finish nursing from the other side. She whispered her morning prayers then started to sleepily drift along. She’d missed out on a lot of sleep, nursing both babies during the night.

  Mrs. Axelrod pushed open the door and bustled in with a tray. She took the baby and grinned. “No doubt it’s my imagination, but I’d swear she weighs more today than yesterday.”

  Lena merely smiled and sat up.

  Mrs. Axelrod burped the tiny girl and started to change her diaper. “I brought creamed oatmeal with your breakfast. Your son is old enough to be eating regular food.”

  Lena clutched the blanket to her chest and let out a small sound of distress. “I have enough milk. I am Johnny’s mother—“

  “Yes, you are. I just figured you’d been giving him rice or barley cereal because he’s so stocky.” They both glanced over at the cradle. “Your boy is going to grow into a sizable man. It’s plain to see, he’ll be able to do a man’s work earlier than most.” She looked down at the newborn. “On the other hand, this one is going to be a dainty little thing. Small as she is, she won’t need much milk at all yet. I’m not worried about you having enough for both.”

  “No one has told me her name.”

  Mrs. Axelrod pursed her lips. “She doesn’t have one yet. I suppose we’ll have to ask the boss.”

  Lena reached over and tenderly caressed the baby’s dark hair. “In the Bible there is a girl. Her name is not given. Talitha means ‘little girl’ and that is all we know her by. For now, I will call her this. When Mr. Halpern decides upon a name, please let me know.”

  “Talitha?”

  “Yes. She was healed. It was a miracle.”

  “We surely could use a miracle or two around here,” the housekeeper mumbled as she headed out the door.

  Chapter 4

  Originally, Lena agreed to only a week of caring for Talitha; but the baby thrived on breast milk, and she refused to suck from a bottle. Mrs. Axelrod truly tried, but it was to no avail. She lifted her hands in surrender. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to keep feeding her. She’s still so little.”

  Lena chewed on her lip and stared out the window. She needed to get back home today. There was so much work to do….

  Then, too, there was another problem. This home was like the Garden of Eden. Food was plentiful, and she had companionship. Something about Mrs. Axelrod’s friendship after months of isolation drew her. Being able to lie down at night and not fear every strange sound counted for a lot, and she knew Mr. Halpern was more than capable of protecting them all. She felt strong temptation to try to fit in here, but it was wrong for her to relish the creature comforts of this place when she clearly did not belong. The wise thing to do was to leave before she yielded to temptation and tried to wangle her way into a permanent position in the household. Lena squared her shoulders. “I’ll take her with me. There’s no other way.”

  “Mr. Halpern won’t cotton to that.”

  Lena carefully positioned her shawl and continued to suckle Johnny. The man who’d been sent to tend the crops couldn’t be expected to do women’s chores. If she didn’t take care of her gardening and canning, she and her son would starve this winter. “Tell Mr. Halpern he has no choice. I am willing to take her for a time. When she grows bigger, he can have her back.”

  Mrs. Axelrod pursed her lips and left the room. Lena had barely finished buttoning up her bodice when the door flew open. Steven Halpern filled the door frame. “You’re not going anywhere! What kind of woman are you to abandon a motherless babe?”

  She stood, popped Johnny into the cradle, and started to pack her belongings into a sack. “I am not forsaking Talitha. She still needs me, so I am willing to take her along.”

  In sheer desperation, Steven captured her shoulder. “No one is goinganywhere!” He paused as his eyes narrowed. She’d gone perfectly still beneath his touch. The hectic color she’d sported just moments before drained clean out of her cheeks. Very lightly, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across her collarbone. She inhaled sharply and wrenched free. “Did that hurt? Mrs. Axelrod said the rifle bruised your shoulder when you tried to run those cows off your land—“

  “It is not fitting to discuss my person, and I am quite well, thank you. Do not touch me again.”

  He scowled. “What kind of man do you think I am? I loved my wife. I just buried her. You can bet I’m not looking for the likes of you to take her place!”

  Lena stood even straighter. She looked at him with wounded dignity then quietly said, “I know of the pain of losing a mate. I have tried to understand the hurt in your heart. When Lars died, my heart was empty. Each day, I wake and know the ache of loneliness. I am sorry for your loss. I did my best. I offered to still feed your daughter, but I must see to my farm, too.” She
turned and scooped up her son. “If Talitha needs me, you can have someone bring her to me.”

  Steven gawked at her then shot Mrs. Axelrod a horrified look. “Do something!”

  The housekeeper watched as Lena walked off. She grimaced. “We can’t make her stay. We’ll come up with a schedule for taking Talitha to her.”

  “Talitha?”

  “Mrs. Swenson said it’s in the Bible. It means ‘little girl.’”

  “What business does she have, naming my daughter?”

  “It’s temporary—till you decide on something. When she says it, it comes out sounding right pretty.”

  “Go make a bottle. I don’t want that woman touching my daughter again.”

  Lena was relieved to get home. True to his word, Mr. Halpern had a man there to do the chores. Lena thanked him and sent him on his way. Once he was gone, she took her horse into the barn and noted the cow still hadn’t been milked. Her pitiful lowing let Lena know that had to be the first thing she did.

  After milking the cow, Lena set the milk pail aside on her way to the house and ducked into the chicken coop. She found only two eggs—the man must have gathered the rest. From the looks of things, he’d done a fair job on the chores. Supposing the eggs were in the soddy, she lifted the pail and headed that direction. As soon as she entered the tiny room, she noticed a bowl full of fresh eggs on the table.

  He’d slept in her bed and left it a rumpled mess. She shuddered and set Johnny into the cradle. In a rush of activity, she stripped the feather mattress and set the sheets and quilt to boil.