Gold Rush Baby

by Dorothy Clark

  The man looked at the door, then back at her. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hold her again, Miss. Could we go inside and—”

  “Not unless I know you are truly the baby’s father.” She fixed a cold look on him. “Several have already made that claim to get hold of the gold that came with her.”

  Anger darkened his face. He looked at the door, appeared about to crash his way through it, then looked back at her. “Who tried to claim my baby? I’ll—” He swallowed, took a breath, made a visible effort to control himself. “Sorry, Miss. I’ve been on the trail so long I’ve forgotten my manners around a lady.” He scowled. “It’s only—I never thought about anyone else trying to claim her. I guess I was a mite too trusting before I started up the trail. Thank you for keeping her safe. I knew I could trust you.”

  “I know I can trust you.” That’s what Goldie’s father had written in the note. She stared at him, her stomach uneasy. He’d never even mentioned the gold. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. “We have never met, sir. Why would you say you knew you could trust me?”

  “Because I saw you that day in Tanner’s store. The day you helped that woman with her fussing baby so she could do her shopping.” He glanced at the door again, longing clear in his eyes. Eyes the same blue as Goldie’s. “You were a stranger to that baby, Miss, yet you treated her like she was your own.” His Adam’s apple slid up and down as he swallowed. “She stopped crying and fussing while you held her. And I—” His Adam’s apple slid up and down again. “I figured you would take good care of my baby. I had no one else I could leave her with. And I wanted to go and get gold. Those two nuggets my brother sent made me hungry to get enough to take care of her, give her a good life.”

  His brother. The queasiness in her stomach increased. That was in the note also. But the note had been seen by several people. The information could be generally known. And he could simply be a smarter, more clever kidnapper. Please, Lord…

  “You say ‘her’, sir.” She looked straight at him, watched his eyes for the slightest flicker, the slightest sign of hesitation. “What is your baby’s name?”

  “Gretchen.” The eyes softened, warmed. “I named her after my mother.”

  Gretchen…G C. Those were the initials embroidered on the blanket Goldie had been wrapped in the night she was left on her doorstep. She took a breath, pressed her hand to her churning stomach. “And your name, sir?” Please, please, Lord…

  “John Carter. But what—” He stared at her, his eyes narrowing. He gave a slow nod. “You’re asking because of the blanket. My wife made it, put those initials on there.”

  Hope faded, returned. The blanket, too, had been seen by many. His story could be a fabrication built on a few generally known facts. But there was one thing only the father would know. One thing that no one but herself had ever seen. “When Goldie—”

  He frowned. “Goldie?”

  She nodded. “I call her Goldie because of the nuggets, because of the initials on the blanket, and—” she swallowed back a rush of tears “—and because she is such a treasure to me.”

  He nodded, looked down at the hat in his hands. “I guess I didn’t think about what this might mean to you.” He looked back up. “I’m sorry, Miss, for causing you hurt. But could I please see Gretchen now. I—”

  “One last question, Mr. Carter. If you answer this correctly, I will know beyond doubt that you are truly Goldie’s father.”

  “What is it?”

  “When Goldie was left she was in a cradle—”

  “The carving! I should have thought to tell you that straight off.”

  He leaned toward her, whether from eagerness or earnestness she could not tell. It didn’t matter, she already knew. He was Goldie’s father. She would have to give her to him. Her heart splintered and bled.

  “I carved a big capital C on the bottom of the cradle when I made it. Then I carved two big hearts—one each for me and my wife—and one tiny one—for our coming baby—hanging from the bottom of the capital C. Can I see my baby now, please?”

  She nodded, blinked tears from her eyes and opened the door. “Come in, Mr. Carter. I will go…get your daughter for you.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen, every step a dagger in her heart.

  “’Bout time you come back. Goldie’s—” Hattie straightened, peered at her. “What’s wrong, Viola?”

  She couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak. She shook her head, picked up Goldie and cuddled her close. Tears streamed from her eyes. “Goodbye, sweetie.” She kissed the soft, warm baby cheek, turned and carried her into the living room.

  “Here is your daughter, Mr. Carter.”

  “Gretchen!” He took her in his arms, cuddled her close, cupped his hand over the back of her head and swayed back and forth. “My baby girl…my baby girl…” He choked, blinked his eyes.

  “I’ll just…get her things…”

  “I’ll get them, Viola.”

  She spun about, looked at the tears on Hattie’s cheeks and shook her head. “No, I’ll do it, Hattie. You…get her bottles, please. And…and be sure to fill one.” She walked to her bedroom, dragged the cradle over to the door, pulled Goldie’s clothes and booties, blankets, diapers and hats from the chest, and piled them into the cradle, added her toy rattle, the string of spools, and the little bag of buttons she’d made her that she liked to shake.

  Goldie hadn’t cried. She kept her mind fixed on that thought, wrested what comfort she could from it. The man had taken Goldie out of her arms, and she hadn’t cried. She could hear her now, gurgling her baby talk in response to his voice. Could she remember him? Did a baby that young remember? She took hold of the footboard of the packed cradle and dragged it into the living room.

  John Carter rushed to her side. “I’ll get the cradle, Miss—” He frowned, shook his head. “I don’t know your name. Seems like I should, after all you’ve done for Gretchen.”

  “It’s Goddard. Viola Goddard.” She straightened, rubbed her palms down her skirt. “May I ask you a question, Mr. Carter?”

  “Another one?” He gave her a sheepish grin.

  “Yes.” She forced an answering smile. “Why did you return? Did you find the gold you sought?”

  His eyes clouded. He shook his head. “No. I never made it to the gold fields.” She watched his arms tighten about his baby. “I saw so many men sickening and dying, or being maimed or killed in accidents or fights along the trail, I turned back. I didn’t want Gretchen to become an orphan. I’ll find work to support her. I’m a decent carpenter. I made the cradle.”

  He still hadn’t mentioned the gold. “And you have the gold nuggets. But I don’t have them here. I gave them to Mack Tanner, the mayor of Treasure Creek and owner of Tanner’s General Store for safekeeping.”

  “They were to pay for Gretchen’s care.”

  “Yes. But I wanted Goldie to have them as a legacy from you if you hadn’t returned. If you will meet me at the store, I will have Mr. Tanner give them to you.”

  He frowned. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for my baby, Miss Goddard. And them nuggets are little enough to try and repay you. I want you to have them.”

  She shook her head. “Caring for Gol—Gretchen—was a privilege and a joy, Mr. Carter. I wouldn’t think of accepting payment. Now—” she braced herself and held out her arms “—let me hold Gretchen while you carry her things to your wagon.”

  “Well, as long as Viola is satisfied you’re Goldie’s father, that’s good enough for me, Mr. Carter.” Mack Tanner cast a look her way.

  She summoned up a smile, hoped it was good enough to fool him. “I am completely satisfied, Mr. Tanner. Now, as I’m no longer needed here, if you gentlemen will excuse me please, I must get back home.” She touched Goldie’s cheek, turned and headed for the door.

  “I’ll instruct my clerks to give you credit up to the value of Goldie’s nuggets, Mr. Carter.”

  She stopped. Why would Mack Tanner be talking about the gold
so freely? She could hear him all the way… Oh. She turned, glanced back at him. He caught her eye, nodded and smiled. She nodded in return, then stepped through the door a man held open for her.

  The clamor of the waterfront assailed her. She hurried to the corner and turned down the road that led to the true heart of Treasure Creek—the school, the church and the homes. So she would no longer have to worry about kidnappers or robbers breaking into her cabin to steal Goldie’s gold nuggets. Mack Tanner had just told an entire crowded store that the baby and the gold were no longer in her possession. The word would pass around town and the waterfront quickly. She would not need her pistol, or the shooting lessons she had put off taking. She would give the pistol to Frankie.

  She looked down the road toward Ed and Frankie’s cabin and stopped. Evelyn Harris and Elizabeth Dunn were coming her way and she could not face talking to anyone. She ducked behind the corner pillar of the hotel’s stone wall, then ran behind the building to the school, let her feet and memory carry her beyond the cluster of cabins and past Dunkel’s farm to the woods.

  She stepped into the silence and suddenly realized where she was going. She blinked tears from her eyes and searched for the path, turned right and walked toward the waterfall.

  The roar of water pouring over the mountain ledge told her she was near. She followed the foaming deluge of water until it turned into the creek flowing toward town, moved forward until the woods opened onto a small clearing and she could see the fence. And the gate.

  She stood in the silence and looked at the tree she had hidden behind the night of Goldie’s kidnapping. Her arms had been empty then, too. Just as they were empty now. But this time there was no hope of them being filled again. This time Goldie was gone from her life for good. A sob filled her throat, pressed for release. One day. One day, and her life had changed forever. This morning she had a family, people who needed her. And now Hattie was starting her own bakery business, and Goldie’s father had returned and claimed his daughter. And she was glad. She was. Little girls needed fathers to protect them from all the harsh and hurtful things of this world. And Goldie would never have had a father with her. Because she would never marry. But for much different reasons than before.

  She crossed the clearing to the hollowed-out tree, to the spot where Thomas had risked his life to save Goldie. She knew now it was then, at that very moment when her heart had begun to heal. It was then that the seed of truth, of the knowledge that not all men were like Dengler and Dolph and Karl, and the other men she had known, had been planted.

  She lifted her hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks. It had taken her so long to understand and to believe that Thomas had risked his life to save Goldie—not for gain, but for love. It had taken her so long to understand that Thomas was a man of moral strength and integrity—a man who would never intentionally hurt or harm another. And it had taken her far too long to understand that her dream of marriage to Thomas was really the hunger of her heart. How could she have been so blind? How could she not have known how much she loved him? And how ironic that the only man she had ever wanted to love her had shown nothing but compassion and kindness toward her.

  Finally, she understood the reason for her discontent. Her heart loved with no one to receive it.

  Could she accept that? Could she go on day after day, accidentally meeting him about town, seeing him every Sunday. Or should she leave Treasure Creek? There was nothing to hold her here now. Her friends would understand.

  Oh, Lord, show me what I am to do!

  She heard a sound over the top of the whispering, rushing water of the creek at her feet and knew. Something in her heart told her Thomas was there. He was always there when she had a need. She gathered all of the emotions tearing her apart and stuffed them down behind the crumbled wall that was once her defense against the world and turned.

  “Mack told me Goldie’s father had returned.” Thomas stopped a short distance from her, the sun streaming down through the branches of the trees revealing the concern, the caring in his eyes. “I thought I might find you here.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, stepped closer. “I’m sorry for your hurt, Viola. I know how much you love Goldie. Are you all right?”

  She turned, waited until she was sure the pressure in her chest wouldn’t erupt in a wild bout of sobbing. “No. But…I will be.”

  She heard his footsteps, felt his closeness, tensed when he took a long, ragged breath. “Viola, you are the most selfless, the most loving woman I have ever known.” His deep, husky voice poured over her, flooded the emptiness inside. “You are also the most beautiful, and the most frustrating.”

  She turned and looked up at him.

  He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets, hunched his shoulders and riveted his gaze on hers. “You look at me with such questions in your eyes, Viola. Don’t you know yet what high regard I have for you? Don’t you realize how my heart seeks you out?” His voice grew softer, huskier. “Don’t you know how much I love you and desire you for my wife?”

  She pressed her hand over her heart, shook her head. “That can’t be.”

  The gold flecks in his eyes darkened. “But it is. You just have to believe it.”

  “But…how—” She choked on the words, couldn’t get them out. His eyes held her, wouldn’t let her go. She pressed her trembling lips together, released them. Took a breath and forced out the words that would destroy her dream forever. “You are a man of God, Thomas. And I was a prostitute. It’s impossible. If you married me it would destroy your ministry.”

  He shook his head. “Not good enough, Viola. We’ve already dealt with this. The people of Treasure Creek know your past. They know it is your past. They will fully welcome you as their pastor’s wife.”

  “But new members…”

  He shook his head. “Stop hiding, Viola. What is the real reason you’re refusing me?” His chest heaved with a deep breath. “Is it that you don’t love me in return?”

  Tears flooded her eyes. She shook her head, rubbed her chest to relieve the horrible pressure and pain. “No it’s—I’m afraid. Oh, Thomas I don’t know how to…to accept your love. I don’t know how…”

  He cupped her face in his hands, his touch so gentle, so tender, tipped her face up to look at him. “Viola, do you trust me?”

  She could barely hear his husky words. But there was no hesitation in her answer. “Yes. I do.”

  “Then just let your heart do what it knows how to do best—love and be loved.” He lowered his head, touched her lips with his, let them remain, barely touching hers, an invitation, a promise.

  The empty place inside her burst open, filled with the rich warmth of his love. She lifted her face higher, went on tiptoe, parted her lips and pressed them more fully to his, compelled by the need to return the beautiful gift of love she had received.

  His strong arms slid around her, crushed her against his chest as his lips claimed her forever as his own.

  Epilogue

  “Gracious, it’s so crowded in this yard, you’d think the church was on the waterfront. I had to search to find you here, in the middle of everyone.” Hattie plunked her basket down in the center of the blanket with Viola’s, Lana Tanner’s and Teena Calloway’s.

  Dong. Dong. Dong.

  Viola looked at Lana and grinned. “Which husband do you think it is, your’s or mine?”

  Lana laughed, shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows, they both love to ring that bell. And they’re like little boys getting up to mischief when they get together.” She snatched her three-year-old son off the blanket. “Oh, no you don’t, young man. I said, no cookies until after we eat dinner.”

  “Which sounds like an excellent idea to me.”

  Viola turned. Mack Tanner and her husband were weaving in and out among the spread blankets to join them. She looked at Thomas and smiled. He was so tall and handsome and wonderful. Her heart did the soft, melting thing it did whenever he was near.

  Thomas stepped close to her side, slid hi
s arm around her thickened waist. “Are you all right? You’re not getting too tired are you? Because—”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Stop worrying. I’m fine, Thomas. I have another month until the baby is due. You can—”

  “Vi-Vi.”

  She grinned and turned, went to her knees on the blanket and held out her arms to Goldie, who was toddling toward her as fast as her pudgy little legs would carry her.

  “Vi-Vi.” Goldie climbed onto her lap as far as possible.

  She lifted her over her swollen abdomen and kissed her soft baby cheek. “Hello, sweetie.” Little arms slipped around her neck and hugged tight.

  “Gammy.”

  “Here I am.” Hattie leaned over and kissed Goldie’s other cheek.

  “I’m sorry for the interruption, everyone. But Gretchen wouldn’t settle down once she spotted Mrs. Stone.” John Carter bent and held out his arms. “Come on, precious. Your new mama fixed a good lunch for us.” He scooped his daughter up and carried her off, her little hand waving bye-bye over his shoulder.

  Mack Tanner gave a shrill whistle and held up his hands.

  People all over the yard stopped flapping blankets and arranging picnic baskets. Conversations stopped. Everyone turned and looked their way.

  “I just want to thank you all for coming to our celebration picnic marking Thomas Stone’s first full year as pastor of Treasure Creek Church.”

  Cheering and clapping erupted.

  Mack gave another whistle to catch their attention and laughed. “You can all tell Thomas how much you love and appreciate him after the picnic. Right now, I’m hungry.” There was a laughing, whistling roar of approval from the men. He held up his hands. “Quiet while Thomas blesses our food.”

  Thomas stepped forward, cleared his throat. “Almighty God, we are mindful of Your mercy and love, of Your provision and care. We thank You for the daily blessings You pour out upon us here in Treasure Creek. And we thank You, Lord, for this bounty which we are about to receive. We ask You to bless this food to the health and strength of our bodies. In our Lord’s name I pray. Amen.”