The baby grasped the handle of the rattle and waved it, almost hitting her mother in the nose.
Kezia ducked back and laughed. “You are dangerous with that, aren’t you, my love?”
The baby giggled and shook the rattle again, rolling onto her side then her back. As she shook the rattle in the air, she kicked her legs and chattered to herself.
Culver could pick out a “ga” and “ba” amid all the babble.
Kezia stood and gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, again, for making such a beautiful gift for her. As you can see, she’s quite taken with it.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad she likes it. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, but I want you to know I like baby Jemimah just fine. She’s a pretty little thing, and seems bright, too.”
Kezia beamed at him. “Thank you. I think she’s the finest baby in the world, but it’s possible I might be slightly biased.”
Culver chuckled. “Surely not.” He pointed to a door on the far wall. “Would you like to see the rest of the place?”
“Yes, please.”
Kezia followed him to the door and he opened it, showing her the bedroom. A massive bed, covered in a colorful quilt his mother had made not long before she died, took up a good portion of the space. A dresser stood against one wall while a rocking chair and a shelf of books sat beneath a small window.
“It’s a very welcoming room, Culver.” She moved to the window and looked out before flicking her gaze to his. “It’s just like I pictured from your letter. The view of the mountains is breathtaking. Is the corral for the livery horses?” she asked, looking back at him.
At his nod, she returned to staring out the window. “I can imagine how beautiful it must look when the wildflowers are in bloom.” She closed her eyes and spun around, arms wide, causing Culver to gape at her again.
When she opened her eyes, she winked at him. “Can’t you just smell the flowers and spring in the air?”
He shook his head. “Not exactly. I smell wood smoke and metal, and winter.”
Kezia stepped close to him. So close, he could see flecks of gold floating in the chocolate depths of her eyes. She lifted a delicate hand and tapped his chest. “You, Mr. Daniels, need to learn to play, to imagine, to dream.”
“Most men don’t have time for such nonsense,” he grumbled, although he made no move to shift away from her. Instead, he took the hand that rested against his chest in his and brought it to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers.
The breathy sigh that escaped her nearly caused him to lift her in his arms and carry her to the bed, but the sound of the baby’s happy gurgles reminded him they weren’t alone or without responsibilities.
The flame that had started to flicker in Kezia’s eyes disappeared and she glanced at the doorway. “I should take Jem back to the um… to… our room. I’m surprised she hasn’t started complaining of hunger or wanting her diaper changed.”
Diapers, midnight feedings, and the challenges of parenthood slammed into Culver as though one of the draft horses in the livery had kicked him square in the chest. He leaned a hand on the dresser and dragged in a gulp of air.
What was he thinking? He knew nothing about babies. About raising children. He barely knew anything about women. And what he did know wasn’t helping him think straight where the alluring gypsy sashaying out of his bedroom to get her daughter was concerned.
He sucked in another breath then strode into the front room. Kezia lifted the baby in her arms and blew on the little one’s tummy, making her giggle.
“She seems like a happy baby,” Culver said, holding out a finger to Jemimah. The baby clutched it and gave him a slobbery smile.
“She is.” Kezia snatched the blanket from the floor and wrapped it around Jemimah. “And she seems taken with you. Generally, she avoids strangers, particularly men.”
“Jem obviously has discerning taste.”
Kezia laughed, the sound stirring something deep in Culver’s heart. Something he wasn’t convinced he wanted stirred. The woman had already turned his world inside out and upside down in the short time he’d spent around her. Would a week in her presence leave him ready for admittance to an asylum for the insane?
He tried not to stare at her, at the mass of dark hair that tempted his hands to burrow into the soft tresses. He struggled to ignore the cute way her nose crinkled up when she laughed and the way her ridiculously long eyelashes feathered her cheeks when she looked down. In spite of his efforts to disregard her beauty and warmth and the array of color she brought into his life, he couldn’t.
Not when she stood next to him, ensnaring his senses and entrancing his soul.
Lest he give in to his urge to kiss her, to claim her as his own, he placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the door. “Let’s get you back to the… your current place of residence.”
She nodded and walked ahead of him to the door of his business and out into the cold afternoon. On the way back to the brothel, Culver talked about the mine, about the plans the men had for the town, of how important the brides were to turning dreams into reality.
Kezia stopped when they reached the door of the cathouse and glanced up at Culver. The friendly, inviting expression on her face made his heart trip around in his chest like a drunk in a windstorm.
“Thank you, Culver, for showing me your business and the town. Don’t forget what I said about your artwork. It’s a shame to hide it in your loft.”
“I’ll think about what you said.” He doffed his hat and waited as Kezia brushed aside her cloak so the baby could see him. He bent down and let Jemimah clasp his finger again, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll see you later, lil’ lady. Would you and your mama like to join me for the Christmas service this evening?”
“We’d love to,” Kezia said, reaching for the knob and opening the door. “In fact, if you think you could stand the company, I’d be happy to make dinner. We could take the food to your place then go on to the service.”
“I’d like that, Kezia. I’ll see you in a few hours.” Culver settled his hat back on his head and touched the brim as he backed away. “Bye.”
“Goodbye, Culver.” She tossed him one more dazzling smile before she rushed inside and closed the door.
Culver stuffed his hands in his pockets and whistled a jaunty tune as he made his way back to his place. He’d worry about how he and Kezia would blend their very different pasts into the future later.
For now, his mouth watered as he thought about her making him dinner. Maybe, just maybe, she’d let him steal a kiss before the night was through.
Chapter Seven
“We don’t have much time to make Culver’s gift, Jem,” Kezia said as she raced upstairs and tossed aside her cloak and Jemimah’s blanket. She held the baby with one arm while she rummaged through her traveling case and found the bag she sought.
With it in hand, she hurried downstairs and filled a pot with water, setting it on the stove to boil. From the bag, she withdrew a precious supply of dried apples. She’d spent more than she should have from her meager funds on the apples, wanting to bake Culver a pie as a Christmas gift. She hoped he’d not only be surprised, but also enjoy it.
The baby squirmed and wiggled, trying to grab the quickly heating pot. Kezia gave her a tiny piece of apple to gnaw on and Jem settled down, content with her treat. If Kezia could get Jemimah down for her afternoon nap, she’d have time to bake the pie and get dinner started.
While the apples softened, she rushed back upstairs. After changing Jemimah’s diaper, she settled into the rocking chair in the bedroom and nursed the baby then tucked her into the middle of the bed for a nap.
She placed pillows around the edges of the bed to keep her daughter from rolling off then returned to the kitchen. Pearl told the brides to use whatever food supplies they needed, so Kezia quickly crumbled sausage into a pan to brown and added pieces of onion then began mixing lard with flour for the piecrust.
By the tim
e the sausage was cooked and the piecrust rolled out for the pie, the apples were soft. She drained the water from the pot then stirred in sugar and cinnamon. From her bag, she pulled out a bit of nutmeg and grated it over the apples. Stirring it into the mixture, she spooned the apples into the crust, added a few generous spoons of butter, then topped the apples with the second crust. Quickly crimping the edges, she set the pie in the oven and cocked her head toward the hallway, listening as Jem let out a cry.
Kezia took the stairs two at a time, hoping she wouldn’t disturb any of the other brides who were in the house as she ran upstairs. She stepped into the bedroom to find Agatha already lifting Jem into her arms and kissing the baby’s cheek.
A few other brides checked to make sure Jemimah was well.
“All that fuss, sweet thing. I think you just wanted to make sure we were all paying attention,” Agatha said, bouncing Jemimah in her arms.
“Oh, she knows how to get what she wants,” Kezia said, taking Jem from the older woman and nuzzling the baby. She loved the smell of her daughter, the sweet, innocent fragrance of her. It filled her heart so full that she sometimes marveled it didn’t explode from the glory of her little girl. “Did you have a good nap, my dove?”
Jemimah smiled and reached out to grab Kezia’s bottom lip. Kezia nibbled on the tiny fingers, making the baby chortle as she kicked her legs.
“You better watch out, Kezia. This one will have everyone wrapped around her little finger if you aren’t careful,” Agatha warned.
“I know she will,” Kezia agreed. “Come on, love. I need to finish my project in the kitchen.”
“Are you cooking dinner?” Agatha asked, following her out of the room and down the stairs. The scent of spice and apples lingered in the air. Kezia hoped no one would try to steal the pie or snitch a piece before she had a chance to give it to Culver. To some of the others, it might not seem like anything, but the pie had cost her dearly. It was also the only gift she had to give to the man who planned to marry her.
She grinned, recalling how Culver had gawked at her as she twirled on the rope in the livery then sang to him. Absently, she wondered what his reaction would be if he saw her in one of her show costumes. As she envisioned his response, heat colored her cheeks with twin blots of bright pink color.
“Thinking about that handsome blacksmith of yours?” Agatha teased as they walked into the kitchen.
“Don’t be silly,” Kezia said, wondering how the old woman could so easily read her thoughts. Through years of living with abusive men she’d learned to hide her emotions, but Culver seemed to draw them out of her whether she liked it or not.
“If I was supposed to marry a brawny, strapping, fine specimen of man like him, I’d sure be thinking about him every living minute of the day.”
Kezia shook her head and handed Jemimah to Agatha then peeked into the oven. The delicious smells of the pie filled the kitchen and wafted into the hall.
“What are you making?” Josefina asked, poking her head around the doorway.
“A pie for Mr. Daniels. I promised to have supper with him before the Christmas service.”
“It smells delicious,” Josefina said before disappearing down the hallway.
Agatha handed Jemimah a spoon and set the baby on the table where she could keep an eye on her.
Jem banged the spoon on the surface and giggled, amused with her game. Her fingers rubbed over the smooth wood of the table, testing the texture before she returned to banging the spoon.
Kezia smiled at her daughter then set about making a biscuit-like crust.
“What’s that for?” Agatha asked as Kezia rolled out the dough and cut it into circles.
“Meat pies. I thought they’d be easy to transport and eat.”
“That’s a marvelous idea, dear. And I’m sure if any are left over, Culver would be grateful to have them for breakfast.” Agatha held a steadying hand around Jem as the baby rolled on her side then onto her tummy, kicking her legs as her hands slapped the top of the table.
Kezia grated a little cheese with the pork and mixed it then spooned the filling onto the rounds of dough. She folded each round in half and pinched the edges to seal them, setting them on a baking sheet. Carefully sliding over the pie, she placed the baking sheet in the oven and tried to think of what else she could make to feed a hungry man. A jar of pickles would have to suffice.
Finished with her meal preparations, Kezia washed and dried the dishes she’d dirtied, put them away, then turned to see Jemimah hit Agatha on the nose with her spoon.
“Oh, Agatha! I’m sorry. Did she hurt you?”
“It’s fine, dear,” Agatha said, moving out of reach before Jemimah could inflict more damage.
Kezia picked up her daughter and swung her around to distract the baby as she took the spoon from her hand and set it on the table. Agatha, eyes watering from the abuse to her nose, made a hasty departure up the stairs.
“Oh, you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you, Jem,” Kezia asked the baby in a singsong voice. The baby reached for her mother’s mouth again. Kezia lifted her into the air and blew on her tummy. Two plump little fists flapped in the air as the baby giggled.
While the pie and meat pies baked, Kezia danced her daughter around the kitchen, humming under her breath. A few of the brides trailed into the kitchen, sniffing the air and smiling at the sight of Kezia and her daughter.
“Whatever you are making smells delicious,” Cara said as she strolled into the kitchen.
Kezia glanced over at her. “I just hope Mr. Daniels shares your opinion. I’m making him a little surprise for dinner.”
“Did things go well with him this afternoon?” Cara asked as she took a seat at the table.
“They went well enough, I suppose.” Kezia wasn’t quite ready to indulge her true thoughts about Culver Daniels to the other brides. Not when she hadn’t yet decided what to make of him.
On the surface, he seemed generous, kind, big-hearted, and gentle. What she needed to know, what she had to be certain of, was what lurked beneath the surface. What kind of man was he when no one was watching? What kind of husband would he be behind closed doors?
She’d been raised by a monster and sold to a brute, so the last thing she’d do, the very last thing, is marry a man who might be as horrible and violent as her father and dead husband.
Until she determined exactly who Culver Daniels was in the hidden recesses of his heart, she would guard herself, but more importantly, guard her little Jem from him.
“If you’re having supper with the man, would you like to freshen up a bit before you go?” Cara asked, tapping a finger to her cheek then making a brushing motion.
“Oh, I suppose I should.” Kezia wiped her cheek with a dishtowel then lightly rubbed it over Jemimah’s face, drawing a laugh from the baby.
“Here, give that girl to me.” Cara held out her hands and took the baby. “I can change her and put her in a fresh dress, if you like.”
“And I’ll guard whatever is in the oven,” Agatha volunteered, returning to the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Kezia said, lifting her skirts and racing up the stairs again. In the bedroom, she attempted to tame her unruly hair, loosely combing the sides back and refastening the clasp Culver had made for her. The slight tremble in her fingers she blamed on the excitement of the day, of it being Christmas, not the man who fascinated her.
Kezia didn’t take time to change her clothes, but she did pinch her cheeks to add color before Cara entered the room with Jemimah.
“Thank you for changing her for me,” she said to the young woman then hastened back to the kitchen.
Agatha pulled the pie from the oven as Kezia entered the room. “This smells heavenly,” the older woman said, setting the pie on a folded towel to cool.
“I’m just hoping I can give it to Culver before anyone decides to sample a piece.” Kezia removed the meat pies from the oven and set them beside the pie. She’d found a basket earlier and lined it with a
clean cloth. She planned to set the pie in the bottom of the basket and the meat pies on top.
“He’d best hurry up and get here, then,” Agatha teased.
The murmur of voices in the hall and the sound of a deep rumbling voice made Kezia’s stomach quiver in response.
“Speak of the devil,” Agatha said with a grin as she swept out of the kitchen and went to see if Jemimah was ready to go.
Kezia quickly set the apple pie in the bottom of the basket then careful tucked the meat pies around it. She folded a clean towel over the top and carried it down the hallway to where Culver waited by the front door, speaking to Mrs. Walters.
“Oh, Kezia, dear, Mr. Daniels said you are dining together then attending the Christmas service,” Mrs. Walters said. The questioning look in the woman’s eyes made it clear she would refuse to allow Kezia to go with the blacksmith if she didn’t wish to.
“That’s right, Mrs. Walters. Mr. Daniels gave Jemimah and me a fine tour of the town earlier. Sharing a meal seemed a small way to repay his kindness,” Kezia said, smiling first at the woman then at Culver.
When he winked at her while Mrs. Walters’ head was turned, Kezia hid a giggle behind a cough.
“Well, then, I hope you enjoy your meal,” the woman said. “I’ll look for you at the service.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kezia tipped her head politely to Mrs. Walters then handed her basket to Culver.
“Here’s dinner. If you wouldn’t mind holding this, I just need to retrieve my cloak and my…”
“Daughter,” Cara said with a smile as she carried Jemimah into the entry. Agatha appeared with Kezia’s cloak and scarf.
“Thank you,” Kezia said to the two women, settling the cloak over her shoulders and quickly wrapping the scarf around her neck before taking Jemimah into her arms. “Shall we go, sweet one?”
Jemimah grinned at Culver and waved a fist at him. He took her tiny hand in his and kissed her fingers, much as he’d done to Kezia’s earlier.
The baby sighed right along with the women standing in the entry.
“Ready?” he asked.
The Dove_The Second Day Page 6