by Amanda Cabot
There was only one reason Aimee could imagine for such a request. “They don’t know she had a child, do they?”
“No.”
4
Even if he hadn’t seen the jail cell on the far wall or heard the two men currently incarcerated muttering curses, Jackson would have known this was a sheriff’s office. It had the same spare look and smell of old coffee that seemed to characterize practically every lawman’s office he’d entered.
“Sheriff Whitfield?” The man sitting behind the desk ignoring his prisoners’ complaints matched the description Warner had given him—around six feet tall with dark brown hair, gray eyes, and a square chin.
“That’s right. You must be Ranger Guthrie.”
“I figured you’d know I was in town.”
The man with the star on his chest nodded. “I would have stopped by Warner’s house last night, but Lydia—she’s my wife—said it was more important to welcome the new midwife, and by the time we were done there, she was pretty tired.”
The smile that lit Travis Whitfield’s face when he mentioned his wife left no doubt that he loved her. Jackson had seen his father wear the same almost-silly grin when Ma walked into the room. Quincy and Jefferson were less demonstrative with their wives, but Jackson knew they’d do virtually anything to make them happy.
“I never had a wife,” he admitted, “but my pa said a wise man doesn’t argue with his missus.”
Travis chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, you want to tell me what brought you to Cimarron Creek?”
Straight to the point. Jackson appreciated that. Like the sheriff, he didn’t have much patience for dithering. “It’s confidential.” He tipped his head toward the jail cell. While its current inhabitants didn’t appear to be listening to the conversation, he had no intention of saying anything important in front of them.
“Of course. Let’s go outside.” Travis settled his hat on his head and led the way to the back of the building. “No windows on this side and no one close enough to overhear anything.” Even so, he kept his voice pitched low. “I won’t tell my deputy unless you want me to.”
Jackson shook his head. “I’d rather you didn’t. Just between us, I’m on the trail of the Gang of Four.”
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Travis nodded. “It seems like every lawman in Texas dreads the thought that they might find their way to his town. When I hadn’t heard of any robberies recently, I wondered if they’d hung up their spurs.”
If only it were that simple. “I don’t think so. One of them turned up dead.”
“Not of natural causes, I’m guessing.”
“Not unless a single gunshot to the heart is natural. It looked like a simple robbery, but my guess is that there was a falling-out among the Gang and that one of them shot him.”
Jackson leaned against the back of Travis’s office, then recoiled. The morning sun had left the stone hotter than he’d expected. “I don’t have any proof yet, but I suspect the others are having problems trying to figure out how to operate as a threesome. At any rate, I got a lead that brought me to this part of the Hill Country.”
He wouldn’t mention either Thea or the fact that the man who’d been killed was her husband until he learned more, because he didn’t want to make any false accusations. A woman’s livelihood was at stake, and Jackson would do nothing to jeopardize it. He was all too well aware that once a person’s reputation had been besmirched, it was difficult to repair it.
At this point, he didn’t know enough about Thea Michener to make a judgment. The only thing he knew was that she wasn’t part of the quartet that committed the robberies, but that didn’t mean she was innocent. She might have been involved in the planning. She might even have been the brains behind the operation. If that was the case, she was as guilty as the outlaws who’d killed Micah. But Jackson had no proof, and until he did, he would remain silent.
“I need a place to use as a home base while I continue my search.” His hope that a quick arrest would lead him to the rest of the Gang had disappeared. “Cimarron Creek seems like a good one.” Especially since the enigmatic Thea Michener now called it home. Living here would give him a chance to observe her and learn what she knew about her husband’s cohorts.
Travis nodded, though his expression told Jackson he suspected there was more to the story than he was admitting. “It’s a mostly peaceful town. We had a rash of crimes last year, but that’s over and things are on pretty much an even keel.” The way he glanced at the sky, as if judging the sun’s position, told Jackson he was anxious to return to his office. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“As a matter of fact, there is.” Jackson headed back toward the street. There was nothing confidential about the next subject. “I’m sure you heard about the baby I found yesterday.”
“Stuart.”
“Stuart? Is that his name?”
Travis shrugged. “That’s what Thea Michener’s calling him.”
“Stuart.” Jackson rolled the name across his tongue and discovered that he liked it. “I need to find his mother. I didn’t see any signs of her on the road, but she’s got to be somewhere. The little tyke is months away from crawling, so he sure as shooting didn’t wander off to that cactus patch on his own.”
Travis clapped him on the shoulder. “Edgar and I can help you, but not today. We need to get those cattle rustlers out of Cimarron Creek and to the county seat to stand trial. We should be back tomorrow night, so we can start looking Friday morning.”
“Fair enough. I’ll send you a telegram if I find anything in the meantime.” Though he hoped he would have good news to report, Jackson’s instincts were shrieking otherwise.
“This is the first time I’ve bathed a baby.” Aimee dabbed the wet cloth across Stuart’s arm as gingerly as if she were trying to remove pollen from a rose petal. “I’m glad you’re here to show me how.”
Thea smiled at her friend. “It’s not difficult. It just takes practice.” Aimee had struggled to keep Stuart from squirming out of her arms when she first began to wash his face. Now she seemed a bit more comfortable, perhaps because he’d stopped screaming and was staring at her as if fascinated by her hair.
“I’m glad you’re here to help,” Thea continued. “I couldn’t leave Stuart alone while I visit my patients, but I’m not ready to start taking him on my rounds.” She’d been excited by the summons she’d received this morning, asking her to call on a woman named Belinda Allen. Her first patient! Thea had thought Lydia would be the first, but that appointment wasn’t until later. Mrs. Allen would be her very first.
Smiling at the prospect, she turned back to Aimee. “God definitely had a good plan when he sent you to Ladreville.”
Aimee dropped the cloth back into the basin and began to dry Stuart’s arms and legs. “I still can’t quite believe that my mother’s been searching for me. It was all I could think about last night. Oh, Thea, I just wish she hadn’t given me away. We’ve wasted so many years apart.”
Thea heard the anguish in Aimee’s voice and looked for a way to ease it. “She may not have felt as if she had any choice. It would have been difficult for her to raise you alone.”
“You would have kept your son even though Daniel was gone.”
Thea wondered if small towns in France were different from the ones in Texas. “A widow with a child is acceptable. Unmarried mothers have a much harder time. They and their children are often shunned.”
There had been only one unwed pregnancy during the time Thea served as Ladreville’s midwife, and the mother—little more than a child herself—had asked Thea to find a home for her baby. She had even refused to hold her son lest she grow attached to him. Three days later, in a story oddly similar to that of Aimee’s mother, she had disappeared, leaving no word of where she’d headed.
“It won’t be long before you know the whole story.” Thea hoped that prospect would provide some comfort.
Aimee tipped her head to one side as she lai
d Stuart back into the flannel-lined bureau drawer. “You and I are quite a pair, aren’t we? We were both raised by people who weren’t our real parents.”
When Aimee had first arrived in Ladreville, obviously distraught over the fact that no one in the town knew where her mother had gone, Thea had shared her own past with the lovely Frenchwoman, telling her about her parents’ deaths when she was only two and how Sarah and Clay had become substitute parents.
“You’re fortunate, Aimee. You’re getting the chance to meet your mother. I don’t even have a picture of mine.” The one Sarah had brought from their home in Philadelphia had been destroyed in a fire.
“But you had Sarah and Clay’s love.”
The envy she saw reflected on Aimee’s face startled Thea. “Didn’t your parents love you?” If that was the case, Aimee hadn’t confided it.
“No. I never understood why, but I felt as if I was a burden.” Aimee looked up from the now-contented baby. “If they didn’t want a child, why did they adopt me?”
Thea thought for a moment, knowing that her answer was important. “Maybe they didn’t realize what raising a child involved. I’ve seen parents like that. They believe they want a baby, but they’re not prepared for the reality. It’s hard work.”
“Do you think that’s what happened to Stuart?”
“I don’t know. If I had to guess, I would say that his mother loved him, because he looked well cared for.” But that didn’t explain why he’d been abandoned next to a cactus.
“I hope you’re right.” Aimee pressed a kiss on Stuart’s forehead. “Everyone deserves to be loved.”
Aimee’s words were still echoing through her brain as Thea turned the corner from Pecan to head north on Main Street. Everyone did deserve to be loved—by parents, siblings, spouses. The last thought brought a frown to her face.
“You look serious, Mrs. Michener. Is something wrong?” Ranger Guthrie asked as he led his horse from the livery.
Thea forced her lips to turn upward in what she hoped was a natural-looking smile. “I was just thinking about Stuart.” That wasn’t a lie; she had been thinking about him. It was simply that Stuart hadn’t been the reason for her frown.
“Is he all right?” Concern shadowed the Ranger’s green eyes.
“His face is starting to peel from the sunburn, but he should be fine. I can’t imagine why anyone would have abandoned him.” That was the thought that had haunted Thea as she’d fallen asleep last night, the one that had weighed on her so heavily as she’d made breakfast this morning.
“I’ve seen worse things.” The Ranger’s frown deepened.
“I imagine you have.” Lawmen had the unenviable job of confronting the worst aspects of society. Not wanting to dwell on that, Thea gestured toward the handsome chestnut with the white blaze. “Are you leaving town today?”
The thought sent an unexpected pang to her heart. She shouldn’t care, but somehow she did. Thoughts of the Ranger whose grim expression kept him from being conventionally handsome had mingled with worries about Stuart’s mother.
Jackson Guthrie was a puzzle. He seemed as honest and dedicated as Rangers were reputed to be, and Thea’s instincts told her that she could trust him. What bothered her was that it appeared he didn’t trust her. She couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at her yesterday, as if he believed her guilty of something. That was absurd, just as it was absurd to be disappointed that he was leaving. The only thing Thea was guilty of was trusting the wrong man.
As the Ranger shook his head, an auburn lock slid from underneath his hat, giving him an almost boyish look that contrasted with the solemnity of his voice. “I’m not going away permanently. I made you a promise, and I plan to keep it. The reason I’m leaving is to discover what happened to Stuart’s mother.”
Jackson’s solemn tone of voice and the fact that he said “discover what happened” rather than “find” told Thea he did not expect a happy ending. “You don’t think she’s alive, do you?”
As his horse moved impatiently, the Ranger laid a reassuring hand on his neck. “I hope I’m wrong, but either way, I’ll get the answers.”
“I’m sure you will.” Not only did the Rangers have a reputation for successfully completing their missions, but this man exuded confidence. “Thank you, Ranger Guthrie.”
He touched the brim of his hat in farewell. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Michener.”
As he mounted his horse and headed in the opposite direction, Thea paused, remembering his final words. Surely it was her imagination that he appeared uncomfortable pronouncing her name.
Less than two minutes later, she reached the Allens’ house. At first glance, the location across from the town park and close to the river seemed ideal, but as Thea approached the large stone building, she revised her opinion. The stains on the foundation told her the house was wet whenever the river flooded, probably every spring. No wonder a young couple could afford such a large home.
Seconds after she knocked on the front door, it was flung open. “Come in, Mrs. Michener. I’m Belinda Allen.”
Thea’s patient was a tall woman with eyes and hair several shades darker than Thea’s. Though her pregnancy had not yet thickened her waist, her face bore the slight flush that Thea called “mothers’ glow.” Belinda Allen was enceinte and thrilled by the prospect of motherhood.
Patients like her made Thea’s job easier, because they seldom complained about the less pleasant aspects of pregnancy—queasiness, swollen ankles, even labor pains—but accepted them as part of the process. In the instant it took her to make her assessment, Thea knew she would enjoy having Belinda Allen as her patient.
“I’m so happy you’ve come to Cimarron Creek,” Mrs. Allen continued. “This is my first baby, and Hank and I are worried that something will go wrong. The ladies at the church remind me that having a baby is natural and that women since Eve have been doing it, but . . .” She glanced at the doorway that she was still blocking and flushed. “Listen to me, standing here prattling. Come in, come in.”
As Belinda Allen waved her arm to usher Thea into the house, Thea’s optimism shattered. Once again, she’d made a snap judgment. Once again, she’d been wrong. Would she never learn?
Thea took a shallow breath, trying to ignore the fragrance that Mrs. Allen’s expansive gesture had released. No. Not now. Not here. It couldn’t be. But, though she tried desperately to repress them, memories flooded through her, sweeping her back to the day she had opened Daniel’s valise and discovered the truth about her husband.
He’d just returned from his first trip to San Antonio after their wedding and, declaring he couldn’t wait another minute to see her, he’d stopped by their house to kiss her and drop off his valise before delivering the goods he’d bought for the mercantile.
It was the moment Thea had been waiting for, her bridegroom’s return. Relieved that their first separation—four days that had felt like a month—was over, she’d checked the roast, then decided that a good wife would unpack her husband’s clothes.
It should have been an ordinary task, but as Thea had pulled out his spare shirt, intending to inspect it for loose buttons, the unmistakable scent of a woman’s perfume had assailed her. A perfume she had never worn or even smelled before that day. The same perfume that Mrs. Allen was wearing.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Michener?”
Her patient’s worried tone brought Thea back to the present. “Yes, of course.” Many women must own bottles of that particular scent. There was no reason to believe that Mrs. Allen was that woman. After all, Daniel had gone to San Antonio, not Cimarron Creek. As far as Thea knew, he’d never been to the town that was now her home. And surely if Mrs. Allen had known Daniel well enough to mark his clothes with her scent, she would not have wanted his wife to attend her. This was simply an unfortunate coincidence.
As she entered the house, Thea made a show of looking around the parlor, mentally cataloguing the furnishings in an effort to control her emotions. Though the ro
om was large enough to have accommodated twice as many chairs and settees, the ones that flanked the stove were of fine quality, and the way they’d been arranged left no doubt that Mrs. Allen had a flair for decorating. “Your home is lovely,” Thea said, meaning every word.
Belinda Allen smiled. “Thank you. It’s still a little empty, but Hank insisted we buy quality. Sometimes he’s extravagant, like with this perfume.” She raised her hand, sending another wave of the noxious scent in Thea’s direction. “I was shocked when I learned how much he’d spent on it and the things he bought for the baby, but he said nothing was too good for me or our child.” A blush accompanied her words, as if she feared she’d been boasting.
Thea forced a smile to her lips, though her heart ached at the contrast between her life and her patient’s. Daniel had said that he wanted to shower her and the baby with luxuries, but he hadn’t. He had said he loved her, but if he did, why did he always return from his trips with a shirt smelling of someone else’s perfume?
As she motioned Mrs. Allen to a chair and began rummaging through her bag for the instruments she would use for her examination, Thea’s thoughts continued to race. Sarah had cautioned her not to marry so quickly, saying Thea hardly knew Daniel, but Thea had been adamant. She loved him; he loved her; there was no reason to delay.
It was only after their vows had been spoken that the doubts had crept in. Though he’d told her it was nothing more than her imagination that reading the newspaper sometimes made him short-tempered, Thea knew she had not imagined those perfumed shirts.
Aimee was right. Everyone deserved to be loved. The question that haunted Thea was whether Daniel had loved her or whether what he felt for her had been nothing more than infatuation. Unfortunately, she would never know the answer.
5
At last! Aimee smiled as Stuart’s eyes remained closed and his breathing became slow and regular. Though he’d been close to falling asleep after his breakfast, he’d turned fussy the moment Thea left. Aimee knew it was unlikely, but she couldn’t help wondering whether he feared being abandoned again. Surely a child this young would not have any real memories.