Brady (Bachelors and Babies Book 15)

by Copelin, Carra

  Brady considered the offer and chastised himself for having the thought. “Thanks, but I need to wait with them for Marshall, if for no other reason. Some day he’ll want to know.”

  ***

  Molly awoke, her eyes puffy from crying all night. She still couldn’t figure out why Brady didn’t tell her. Surely, if there is a child involved, he wouldn’t want to keep that child a secret. She was both angry and confused. How could he spoil his homecoming like that?

  Her father screamed her name from his room at the other end of the hallway. Anyone outside the house might think he was being murdered, but she had become used to the summons. It was only because she had been out of his sight for too long and he wanted his breakfast. She closed her eyes and pulled her pillow over her head. After a few minutes, she dragged herself out of bed and got dressed. She might as well face the inevitable inquisition and get it over with.

  “Morning, Papa.” She breezed into his room as if this morning was the same as any other. “How did you sleep?”

  “Not worth a tinker’s folly! Where were you?”

  “I’ve been getting dressed so that I can prepare your breakfast. What would you like?” She opened the velvet curtains to let light and a breeze into the stuffy room.

  “Nothing now,” he huffed. “You know very well I meant yesterday and last night.”

  “I took the desserts I made to the Barton’s about noon. Last night, I was tired and went to bed early.” Everything she told him was true. She just happened to leave out what he didn’t need to know. “Cal took care of you, didn’t he?”

  He huffed again, but she recognized the sound as more of a pout. “He was here, but he’s not you.”

  “That is blatantly obvious,” she stated. “I’m prettier.”

  He surrendered a grin but cleared his throat to try and hide it from her.

  “When are you going to feed me, girl?” His tone was back to its usual gruffness. “My stomach’s gnawing on my backbone.”

  “All right, Papa, I’m going now.” She kissed him on the forehead and headed to the kitchen.

  Molly had his tray ready in about forty-five minutes, give or take, and she carried his breakfast upstairs.

  “Here you go.” She held the tray until he took it from her.

  “Looks like you’ve outdone yourself for a change.”

  “I hope so, I fixed all your favorites.”

  She had become used to Lloyd Butters’ non-complimentary compliments throughout her life, but just once she would like to hear something pleasant. They had almost had a nice conversation earlier, so she knew he could behave nicely when he wanted to.

  He ate the last bite of ham and fried egg, sopped the egg yolk with the last bite of biscuit, and downed the dregs of his coffee cup. He set the tray onto the bed beside him.

  “That ought to hold me until lunch.” He belched and wiped his mouth with the napkin she had provided. “What are you fixing?”

  “I don’t know, yet. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  Her mind had been occupied with Brady Forester and little else since yesterday. Luckily, everything she had done this morning hadn’t required serious concentration. Cooking for her was as natural as walking and talking were to most folks.

  “I need you to do something for me today.” He gave the command so easily, like he knew she wouldn’t dare refuse. He handed her a sealed envelope. “Take this to Sheriff Kenemer.”

  “Why me?” She knew she sounded whiny and weak but hated being taken advantage of. She left it hanging in mid-air. “Can’t you send Cal or one of the other hands?”

  “I want this to be put in Kenemer’s hand.” He shook the letter at her impatiently. “You’re the only one I trust.”

  Well, when you put it that way how could I refuse? She took the envelope from him.

  “While you’re in town, stop by the hotel restaurant and order dinner with a big bowl of Muriel’s peach cobbler.” He dabbed his chin with the napkin to wipe off imaginary drool. “It’s time I had some good food for a change.”

  Molly interpreted his remark to mean he knew she wouldn’t have time to cook, therefore bring dinner home. His words stung just the same.

  “All right, Papa.”

  She changed her dress and straightened her hair after cleaning the breakfast dishes, so by the time she drove into town, it was a little past noon. The door to the sheriff’s office was closed. She felt sure, if he were there, he would have had the door open in this heat. Driving down the street, she saw Sheriff Kenemer walking into the Melrose Hotel. She parked beside the building where the wagon wouldn’t block the street.

  Inside, Muriel’s Restaurant sat off to the right of the lobby. Molly stepped through the open double doors in time to see Sheriff Kenemer sit at a table on the far side of the room. Once seated, she realized his dining partner was none other than Brady Forester. No! Anybody but him. She quickly made up her mind to leave and wait for the sheriff at the jail, when he noticed her, stood, and waved for her to join them.

  She reached the table as both men rose and then sat when Sheriff Kenemer held her chair.

  “Hello, gentlemen,” she said. “Thank you for asking me to join you.”

  “We’re honored to have such a beautiful lady grace our table.” The sheriff glanced across to Brady and said, “Forester you got anything you want to say?”

  “Good to see you, Molly.”

  The sheriff knew how to talk real pretty and the ranger could use a few lessons. It seemed he might be as uncomfortable as she was.

  “Sheriff, I’m only here to order dinner for Papa and to give you this note.” She handed him the envelope with his name written in her papa’s hand. “It seemed important you have it today.”

  “Thanks, Molly.”

  About that time, Muriel and a helper brought the men’s plates to the table.

  “What can I get you today, Molly?” Muriel asked.

  “I’d like your special for Papa and he would like a large bowl of your peach cobbler if you have some left.”

  “I have plenty to send. I had a feeling when I baked this morning, I was going to need a bigger pan, so I dug one out from the back of the cabinet.” The older woman wiped her hands on her apron, patted Molly on the shoulder, and toddled off to the kitchen.

  Sheriff Kenemer watched Muriel and said, “I do believe Miss Muriel is sweet on your pa.”

  “What? No . . . I mean, they’re just friends.” Her neck and cheeks heated at the thought of her father seriously liking a woman or the other way around, especially hearing it from a man who was only an acquaintance.

  “Now don’t get upset, I’m just funning you.” He placed the envelope into his vest pocket and forked a bite of roast.

  Muriel came back to the table with her young helper. “Here you go, Molly. It’s all ready to go.” She helped Molly to her feet. “Now Bobby is going to carry the box out to your wagon for you. Don’t tarry, now, I don’t want the food to get cold before your pa eats. Oh, I put a jar of heavy cream in for Lloyd to pour over his cobbler. I know how much he likes it.”

  “Thank you. Will you—?”

  “Yes, I’ll put the meal on your bill. Now scoot!”

  Molly drove the wagon down the street and out of town, thankful she hadn’t had time to say much to Brady. She would have considered it too awkward trying to make conversation after what she had seen yesterday afternoon. She wondered if he felt the same. Obviously, he had seen her, too, since she had nearly run him over with the horse and wagon.

  They should talk this out, at least she needed to, to clear the air. If he had brought his family to live in Sugar Springs, they should be cordial.

  She steered the wagon into the circle drive in front of the house, set the brake, and jumped to the ground. Somehow, Cal appeared beside her and lifted the box from the wagon bed.

  “I’ll get this for you, Molly,” he said. “Where do you want this? In the kitchen?”

  “Yes, that’ll be fine, thank you,
Cal.”

  She watched him walk up the steps and on into the house, his shoulder muscles rippling under the wait of the box’s contents. For a fleeting moment, she thought he wasn’t such a bad catch. Cal was strong, loyal, a hard worker, and Lloyd Butters liked and trusted him. That said something right there. That and the fact he was in proximity.

  Then, she said under her breath, “Molly Harder.” She immediately nixed that thought and giggled all the way into the house.

  ***

  Brady finished his lunch and pushed his plate toward the center of the table. He emptied his cup and signaled for a refill. He hadn’t slept well for two nights now and needed an extra jolt to keep him going for the rest of the day.

  Yancey took his knife to open the envelope delivered by Molly. He read it and passed it over. “Looks like this goes to you more than me.”

  “What does Butters want with me?” He opened the folded note and read.

  Sheriff,

  A few months ago, I hired several men to help work the ranch. Since then, it seems things have gone missing. I could haul off and fire them all, but don’t much like the idea of starting over again. I want you and the Ranger to be at my house today at four o’clock to discuss. No one is to know why you are here. Not even, Molly.

  L. Butters

  “I see some things never change.” He folded the message and slid it back into the envelope. “He’s as demanding as ever.”

  “It’s true, but I’ve found, most of the time, Lloyd’s fairly inciteful.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Brady said. “Growing up, it seemed like he was always busting my chops for something.”

  “There were times your pa and I wondered if you’d make it past sixteen.”

  “Yeah? Pa never said anything to me.”

  “Yeah, we had a few conversations as I recall.” Yancey pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m proud to say you did.” He paid Muriel for their meal and led the way out of the Melrose. “Where’re you headed?”

  “I want to check on Shorty. Doc Murphy’s wife put him down for a nap and I should make sure they’re all right.” He ran his fingers up through his beard and then smoothed it down again. “I guess, then, I’ll ride out to the Butters’ Ranch to see what he’s up to.”

  “Sounds good. Let me know if I can help.” Yancey waved goodbye and strolled toward the sheriff’s office.

  Brady walked across and down to Doc’s house and knocked on the door. The doc’s wife answered with the baby in her arms. As soon as Shorty saw him, his face lit up with a big grin.

  He took Shorty from her and asked, “How’re you two doing, Mrs. Murphy?”

  “Just fine, just fine.” She wiped his face with her apron tail and then her own. “He just finished eating some cooked cereal for me. He’s a good eater, this one. He’ll be a big boy when he grows up.”

  Shorty laid his head on Brady’s shoulder and his hand, fingers curled, latched onto his beard.

  Brady gently extricated the hand from the hair on his face. “Whoa, fella, let’s don’t do that if you don’t mind.” He thought a moment how to approach the woman for a favor. “Mrs. Murphy, I hate to, but I need to ask you something.”

  “Ask me anything, but only if you call me, Ida.”

  That request made him uncomfortable. He had been raised to respect his elders, but he figured his ma would forgive him this time. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Now, what can I do? Does it involve taking care of this angel?”

  “Yes, for a little longer while I see to business.”

  “Take as long as you need.” She took the baby from him and said, “I’m going to give him a bath and I think we’ll both be ready for a nap.”

  Brady stopped at the door, then looked back at Shorty, who squealed when she tickled him on the neck. “Thank you, Mrs. – Ida.”

  “You’re welcome.” She brought Shorty’s hand up and waved. “Marshall say bye-bye to your Papa.”

  Pleased at her comment, Brady stood taller as he stepped off the porch. He was beyond sad at what had happened to the Copelands, but proud the Lord had directed Martha Copeland to his porch to leave her baby, Marshall. Whether one called it Divine intervention, or everything happens for a reason, he was a believer and he was thankful. At this moment, his heart was full.

  Chapter Five

  Molly put the finishing touches to the kitchen after washing the china and scrubbing the cast iron pots and pans from cooking breakfast. The wood counter tops no longer gleamed, but she knew they were clean. The floor was another matter entirely. The linoleum had cracks and creases that trapped dirt and such. The longer she stared at the muck, the more she knew what had to be done.

  Since she had already changed into a work-dress, she gathered buckets for soap and rinse water, brushes, and towels. She scrubbed the floor on her hands and knees until the linoleum was spotless. It didn’t sparkle, but she knew she had, at least, gotten rid of the grime. At the back door, she set the buckets of dirty water onto the porch and dropped the scrub brush into the rinse water. She stretched her back, took one last look at the spotlessness of her work, picked up the soapy water bucket, and threw the contents out into the yard.

  “Hey!”

  She recognized the voice as belonging to, Brady Forester. She saw him jump out of the way but not before she had drenched him from his waist down to his boots. She wanted to laugh but stifled that urge in time.

  “Oh, my gosh,” she managed with a straight face. “I’m sorry.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I thought I was throwing water off my own back porch.” Hands resting on her hips, she gave him a small grin. “You know, if I had tried to hit you, I’d have missed. My aim isn’t that good.” She picked up the towel she had dried the floor with and tossed it to him.

  He wiped his pants and glared at her. “I can’t believe you soaked me.”

  “Perhaps you should’ve made your presence known. Put a cowbell around your neck or something.” She picked up the other bucket and dumped the dirty water beside the step. It might have been amusing to see him jump again, but she repressed that impulse, too. “What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have other things to tend to?”

  “Actually, I do.” He handed the towel back to her, and said, “I’m here because I have to see your father, Molly. I knocked on the front door first, but no one answered. Trust me, I won’t make this mistake a second time.”

  “I really am sorry, Brady. How can I make it up to you?”

  “Take me in to see Lloyd?” Then, he added, “Please?”

  She bit her tongue to keep from commenting on ‘please’ being an afterthought. She had probably tortured him enough for one afternoon. She led him around to the front of the house and inside. No way would she allow him to track wet, muddy boots across her freshly scrubbed floor.

  “Come on in. Here’s a rug for you to wipe your boots,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  She noticed he had done as she asked, was waiting for her when she returned.

  “Papa’s upstairs.”

  Brady followed her to her father’s room at the head of the stairs. The house didn’t seem as large as it had when they were children running through the halls. That was a long time ago though and he had business to conduct.

  “Wait here,” she said, outside the closed door. “I’ll be right back.”

  He heard her say through the slight opening, “Papa, Mr. Forester is here to see you.”

  “Send him in,” Butters answered.

  She came into the hallway and motioned for him to enter.

  The space was the size of two or three rooms in one, with several walls that divided a library, office, and living/sleeping space. He didn’t remember a space this large and guessed Molly had had the rooms connected after the older man’s accident last year.

  Brady found Lloyd Butters seated in a chair beside a desk and large window looking out on the front of the house where he had most likely watched as Br
ady rode up to the house and dismounted. He knew Molly had announced him, so he removed his hat and waited to be acknowledged. After a few minutes, Butters turned the chair to face both him and the desk. It was then he realized the straight-back chair had been fitted with wheels for him to get around.

  “You and I have butted heads a time or two in the past,” Butters began. “And I admit, since I haven’t been around you for a few years, I have misgivings about your capabilities.”

  “Understood. I don’t like you much either.”

  “Then we’re even.” Butters grinned.

  “Yes, sir, I’d say so.”

  “Be it misplaced or not, Sheriff Kenemer and Molly have faith in your abilities.”

  Silence stretched out between them. Finally, Brady spoke. “What do you want, Butters. How can I help you?”

  “I suspect corruption and theft going on behind my back.”

  “As you stated in your note to the sheriff.” He was beginning to lose patience with the man beating around the bush. He had an idea what would be asked, and he was ready to say yes. He would do it because he was a Ranger and investigating and protecting people was his job. And, he would do it for Molly. “I repeat, what do you want?”

  “I want you to work on the ranch. Make friends with the hands to see what you can learn.”

  “I can do that, sir.”

  “Good,” Butters said. “I‘d like you to start right away.”

  “I have a couple of things to get squared away first. How is next week?”

  “If that’s the earliest, it’ll have to do.” Butters nodded, closed a ledger in which he’d been writing, and placed it in the top drawer of the desk. He turned toward the window again, signaling the end of their meeting.

  Brady let himself into the hallway and closed the door behind him. On the way downstairs, he had the sneaking suspicion he was being watched, and looked for a glimpse of Molly, but didn’t see her. Why was she avoiding him, if in fact that was what she was doing? He climbed onto Emma’s saddle, headed toward the ranch gate for the road to town. He mentally made a note of what he had to do before he started work for the Butters Ranch.