by Amanda Cabot
The sheriff shook his head. “None come to mind.” He stared into the distance for a moment, then nodded. “Wait a minute. Charlie said something about a couple coming into the mercantile asking about our midwife. When they learned she was getting up in years, the woman seemed upset. She claimed she wanted a young woman.”
Sheriff Driscoll scowled. “Charlie couldn’t figure out what all the fuss was about, but then the man showed him a watch with a picture of Helen and claimed she was a cousin. Charlie thought it was strange that they didn’t know her name or where she lived, but they had some story about losing the directions to her place.”
Questions about a midwife, a watch with a woman’s portrait, even the fact that the couple had made their inquiries at the mercantile—this had been no innocent visit. Jackson thought he’d steeled himself for it, but his stomach churned at the realization that Sheriff Driscoll had just confirmed his worst fears.
The watch had to be the one that had been stolen from Daniel Michener’s body, and that meant that what Jackson had surmised was true: Helen Bradford had been killed because of her resemblance to Thea.
“You don’t look too happy about that.”
“I’m not.” That was an understatement. “It appears that Mrs. Bradford was killed by the Gang of Four. I’d venture to say that the couple who came to your mercantile were two of the members.”
The sheriff’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t say! You tracking them?”
“Yeah, but so far they’ve been careful to hide their tracks. I suspect they split up between heists to make it harder to find them.”
“That’s smart.”
Jackson gave a grudging nod. “They’re a wily group, but I’m going to capture them.” He wanted justice for Micah and Leander and Helen Bradford, but even more than that, he wanted to keep Thea safe, and the only way to do that was to capture the Gang. The sole good thing he could say about this couple’s having come to Leakey was that now he might get a description of two of the remaining members.
“I want to talk to Charlie, see if he remembers what they look like.”
The sheriff nodded. “Charlie’ll talk your ear off, but he’s got a good memory. He’ll probably tell you more than you want to know.”
Jackson doubted that was possible. Even the smallest detail might prove helpful, but first he needed to see the Bradford homestead.
Half an hour later, the sheriff turned off the road. “Here it is,” he said, pointing toward the modest house nestled in the shade of two live oaks. Though the flowers that Helen Bradford had planted around her front step had wilted in the summer heat, the house itself appeared well cared for, and there was no sign of anything being amiss. Jackson filed away the details for the sketch he’d promised Thea.
“We might as well go inside.” Sheriff Driscoll flung the door open, then stopped abruptly. “What do you make of this?”
The parlor chair cushions were slit, the stuffing thrown onto the floor, and the contents of the kitchen cabinets were now in a heap on the floor. Jackson strode to the bedroom, not surprised when he discovered that the dresser drawers had been emptied onto the bed. What did surprise him was that the robber had gouged chunks of wood out of both the headboard and the dresser top.
Anger, pure and simple, was the only reason he could imagine for the destruction. The same anger that had been unleashed on Helen and that might be directed at Thea.
He turned to the sheriff. “Looks like someone was searching for something, but they didn’t find it.” And because they didn’t, Helen Bradford was dead. Jackson had gotten his answers, even though they weren’t the ones he wanted. Now there was only one thing to do.
He extended his hand. “Thanks for your help, Sheriff. What I saw here tells me I’ve got to get back to Cimarron Creek right away.”
Matt Driscoll appeared disappointed. Perhaps he wanted more time to discuss a Ranger’s life.
“What about Charlie? You could talk to him and then spend the night with us. My wife makes a mighty fine apple pie.”
On another day, Jackson might have agreed, but not today. “I can’t stay, but I’d appreciate it if you’d talk to Charlie and telegraph the descriptions to Travis Whitfield. He’ll make sure I get them.”
“Sure thing.”
The sheriff waved as Jackson mounted Blaze and headed toward Cimarron Creek. It would be a long ride, but this time Jackson would take no breaks.
Thea needed him.
“Never . . . ever . . . again.” Lydia’s breath whooshed out between the words, and she punctuated the sentence with a moan. “That was the worst one yet.”
Thea kept her face schooled in the placid expression she’d been taught. Lydia had been in labor for over twelve hours. No wonder she was exhausted and ready to give up. Though Thea would not admit it to her patient, she was concerned by the length of the labor. First babies often took their time, but Thea had never seen a labor with such fierce contractions sustained over such a long time, and that made her worry about the safety of both the mother and the child.
Please, God, keep them safe, she prayed silently, unable to bear the thought that Lydia might know the heartbreak of losing a child or that Travis might face a double tragedy.
“It’ll be over soon,” Thea said, her voice filled with what she hoped was not misplaced confidence.
“It better be. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
That was what Thea feared, that Lydia would lack the strength to birth her baby. Thea wiped the sweat from her patient’s face, then moved to the opposite end of the bed to check the progress. A wave of exultation pulsed through her when she saw that the baby’s head had started to crown. If all went well, this would be the beginning of the end.
“One more good push.” It would take more than one, but Lydia wasn’t ready to hear that right now. “Push, Lydia. Push.”
The expectant mother did.
“Perfect!” Thea made no effort to hide her relief. “The head’s out. Keep pushing.” As Lydia obeyed her commands, Thea caught the infant and smiled. Though red and wrinkled with a misshapen head, it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. A baby. A live baby!
“You did it, Lydia. You’ve got a daughter.” Thank you, Lord.
Thea gave Lydia’s abdomen an appraising look and smiled. It seemed she’d been right. Knowing her work was not yet finished, she cleaned the baby as quickly as she could, wrapped her in a soft blanket, and showed her to Lydia.
“Let me hold her. Come here, Virginia.” Lydia had told Thea that she and Travis had finally decided on names, Virginia for a girl, Vernon if it was a boy.
“Not yet.” As much as she wanted Lydia to be able to cradle her daughter, it was too soon for that. “You’ve got more work to do. You’re having twins.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Ten minutes later, Virginia’s brother made his appearance, his angry squalling suggesting that he had not liked being left behind. If she hadn’t been so tired, Thea would have laughed from pure joy. Her first delivery in Cimarron Creek had been successful. Mother and baby—babies, she corrected herself—were healthy.
“It’s a good thing you have two arms,” Thea told Lydia as she laid an infant in each.
Lydia stared at her children, her face radiant despite the exhaustion. “Thank you, Thea. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Thea’s heart overflowed with joy as she brushed Lydia’s hair before summoning Travis. This was why she’d become a midwife; this was why she’d come to Cimarron Creek. But she hadn’t done it alone.
“Thank you, God.”
23
Twins. That’s wonderful.” Aimee pulled out the plate of food she’d kept warm in the oven and placed it in front of Thea.
“It is, although you should have seen Travis’s face when I told him. I thought he might keel over.”
Thea took a bite of the savory roast chicken. She hadn’t eaten while she was helping Lydia through her labor, ha
dn’t even thought about being hungry, but now that the babies were safely delivered, she discovered that she was famished. Famished, almost limp with relief that Lydia’s lying-in had been successful, and filled with the inexplicable wish that Jackson were here to share the experience.
It made no sense. Thea shouldn’t consider discussing childbirth with a single man, particularly one who was not related to either her or the parents, but she wanted to tell him how fulfilling it had been to place Lydia’s babies in her arms. Though being a Ranger was very different from being a midwife—Jackson worked to protect life rather than bring it into the world—Thea’s instincts told her he would understand the satisfaction inherent in completing a difficult job.
But Jackson was not here, and Thea owed Aimee a better explanation. “I don’t think Travis was ready for two children, even though I’d told Lydia I thought it likely she was carrying twins.”
Aimee refilled her glass of tea and took a seat across from Thea, her expression making Thea believe she was thinking about something other than Lydia and her babies. “Men can be so silly, can’t they?”
“What makes you say that?” Silly was not a word Thea would ever associate with Travis or, for that matter, Jackson.
“It’s Nate.”
Of course. That explained why Aimee had seemed distracted. As a blush colored her cheeks, Aimee dipped her head.
Thea cut another piece of chicken, wondering what had happened between Nate and Aimee to make her believe he was silly. “Don’t tell me he’s back to being silent around you. I thought that ended at the square dance.”
Aimee and Nate had been partners for almost every set, and when they weren’t do-si-doing, they’d had their heads together, obviously engrossed in conversation. Ever since, Aimee had reminded Thea of the wildflowers that had invaded her childhood secret garden. Some years they barely stayed alive, but when there was a heavy rain at just the right time, they would burst into bloom, covering the ground with a riot of color. Aimee was in full bloom now, watered by Nate’s attention.
“Oh no.” Aimee shook her head so vigorously that a curl escaped from her chignon. “He comes into town every day so he can walk me home from the apothecary.”
“That’s less than two blocks.” Aimee hardly needed an escort for such a short walk, but if it made her happy, Thea would be the last person to criticize. After all, she looked forward to the conversations she and Jackson had when he came to pick up or drop off Stuart. They might be brief, but they were the highlights of Thea’s day.
Aimee gave her a mischievous grin. “It’s more than two blocks the way we go. Nate takes the longest route possible.”
“And that’s what you find silly?”
“No. That’s nice. It gives us time to talk.”
“Then what’s silly?”
“He called me a princess. Can you imagine that?”
A shiver made its way down Thea’s spine. “I can.” When he’d known her only a few days, Daniel had said she reminded him of a rose. And when she’d laughed and reminded him that roses had thorns, he’d nodded, claiming that she used them to guard her heart but that he would be the one who’d strip the stem of its thorns and capture the beauty.
Though another woman might have called that silly or at least fanciful, Daniel had been so earnest and Thea so entranced that she’d believed him. It hadn’t been the coup de foudre that Aimee claimed had struck her the day she’d met Nate, but it had been close.
“That’s the kind of thing a man says when he wants to woo a lady,” Thea told Aimee. “It looks to me as if you have a suitor.”
Aimee’s color deepened. “I hope you’re right, because you know how I feel about Nate. I’ve never met a man like him. He makes me feel beautiful, even though I know I’m not.” She paused to take a sip of tea. “I know it’s happening quickly, but my heart tells me Nate’s the one for me, and yet . . .”
Thea finished the last of the mashed potatoes and tried to tamp down her concerns while she waited for Aimee to continue. This was different, she reminded herself. Aimee wasn’t making the same mistake she had, rushing headlong into marriage with a virtual stranger. They weren’t even officially courting yet, and if Nate continued the way he’d begun, it would be a leisurely courtship. Furthermore, while he had been a stranger to Aimee, everyone in Cimarron Creek knew Nate. They could vouch for his integrity.
Nate wasn’t Daniel. He wasn’t hiding horrible secrets, and yet something worried Aimee.
“Yet what?” Thea prompted her friend.
“I worry that I’m not the right woman for him. What will he think when he learns the truth of my birth? He comes from a respected family.”
“So do you.” The Hendersons were one of Cimarron Creek’s two founding families, whereas the Kentons had come to town later.
“But it’s different.”
Aimee was right. The fact that she’d been born out of wedlock meant that some residents might condemn her. Thea couldn’t predict how Nate would react. All she could do was tell Aimee what she’d learned.
“If he loves you—really loves you—it won’t matter.” She hadn’t cared that Daniel knew nothing of his family, and he hadn’t been bothered by her parents’ tragic deaths. They’d both agreed that what their parents had done was of no importance, that what mattered were the present and the future they’d create together.
“I hope you’re right.”
So did Thea.
Jackson frowned when he saw lights on in the kitchen. He’d thought his late arrival in Cimarron Creek would mean that Warner would have gone to bed. Not only was it clear that he had not, but that looked like Nate’s horse tied up in front of the house. So much for Jackson’s hope that he could avoid a discussion of his trip and simply get some rest before seeing Thea in the morning. After what he’d learned in Leakey, he was not in the mood for casual conversation.
Biting back his frustration, he entered the house by the side door and found both Nate and Travis sitting at the table with Warner, glasses of sarsaparilla in front of them. Nate was no surprise, but why was Travis here? He didn’t normally frequent Warner’s house this late in the day.
“Glad you’re back,” Warner said as he registered Jackson’s arrival. The smile that accompanied his words told Jackson that whatever the reason the trio had gathered, it was a happy one. “You can celebrate with us. Grab yourself a glass.”
Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Jackson pulled one from the cupboard and filled it with the fizzy beverage, then sank onto the empty chair. He’d drink the sarsaparilla as quickly as he could, then excuse himself.
“What are you celebrating?” He had nothing to celebrate.
“Fatherhood.” Travis’s face shone with a combination of pride, relief, and deep-seated happiness. “The babies came today.”
Jackson stared at the man. He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Thea had said that Lydia’s confinement was imminent, and he’d heard a rumor that she’d predicted twins, but he’d been so caught up in thoughts of death and danger since he’d left Leakey that Travis’s announcement startled him.
“Babies, as in plural?”
“Yep. I’ve got a son and a daughter.”
Jackson rose and clapped the sheriff on the back. This was good news, a happy ending to a difficult few days. “Congratulations, old man.”
“What do you mean ‘old man’? You’re older than I am.”
Though Travis’s grin took the sting from his words, Jackson simply nodded. On days like this, he felt more than old. He felt ancient, but he wasn’t going to say anything that would diminish the festive atmosphere in the kitchen. His friends—and he counted these men as such—deserved an evening free from worry.
Travis let his gaze roam from one man to the other before he spoke. “You fellows may not like my advice, but I’m going to give it anyway. Lydia’s the best thing that ever happened to me. She changed everything—made me happier than I thought possible, and now with Vernon and Virg
inia, my life is complete.”
It was the longest speech Jackson had heard the sheriff make. Was this what fatherhood did to a man?
“So, here’s my advice,” Travis continued. “If you find a woman like Lydia, don’t let her slip away. I want to see you all as happy as I am.”
Jackson stared at the wall as a picture snuck into his brain. He was riding up to what had been the Goddard ranch, knowing that it was now his home. And as he approached the house, a woman emerged, a toddler clutching her skirts, an infant in her arms.
He closed his eyes, taking in the details of the image. This was no faceless woman, no unknown toddler. It was Thea who greeted him, Stuart who clung to her, and the baby nestled in her arms was theirs, a tiny girl with Thea’s brown eyes and a shock of hair the same shade as Jackson’s.
The warmth that flooded him startled Jackson with its intensity. He might not deserve it, but this was what he wanted: a family of his own. Was this what God had in mind for him, or was it nothing more than a dream? There was only one way to find out, but first he needed to tell Thea what he’d learned.
“It’s bad news, isn’t it?”
Jackson hadn’t had to say a word. The wariness in his eyes when he’d climbed the front steps had signaled that something was wrong. He didn’t bother to deny her assumption, though he’d insisted it could wait until she returned from her appointments, but since Thea had finished checking on Lydia and the twins and had nothing else scheduled for this morning, she’d invited Jackson to stay.
For the sake of propriety, they remained on the front porch, a coffeepot on the table between them, a solemn expression on Jackson’s face. Thea had left the door open so that she could hear Stuart if he stirred, but the infant normally slept for an hour or so at this time of the day.
“I wish it were otherwise,” Jackson said, “but yes, it’s bad news. All the way back from Leakey, I tried to find a way to make this easier to bear, but there’s no way to sugarcoat it. I believe someone mistook Helen Bradford for you, and that’s why she was killed.”