Dakota Child. Linda Ford
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especially a man.
“I don’t expect so.” She shifted her eyes toward the fire, as if fascinated with the bright flames.
“But…” ’Twere none of his business, but if he had a wife and wee son he would not rest unless he was certain they were safe. Perhaps they’d argued and she wondered if her husband would let angry words keep him from action. But love quickly forgave. “He’ll want to be sure you’ve found shelter—especially with the baby so small.”
She shifted, darted a look at him. In the brief glimpse of her wide brown eyes, Billy saw something that set his mouth into a hard line. He’d seen fear. “Are you running from your husband? Afraid of him for some reason?” She need not fear a cruel man so long as Billy was around.
“No. Not at all.” Her fingers moved restlessly against her son’s blanket.
Billy wasn’t much for beating around the bush. “Then what were you doing out in the storm when you should be safe in your home?”
She dragged her gaze toward him, shifted to study Ma’s back, then back to stare at Billy.
Again he saw fear, accompanied by uncertainty. He tried to be indifferent to it. After all, she was another man’s wife. Up to that man to protect and comfort her. But he wasn’t here to provide it at the moment, and Billy took half a step toward her then caught himself. “He’ll be worried over the little one.” He held her gaze in an invisible grip, inviting the truth. Silently assuring her she was safe with him in every way.
“He doesn’t know.”
He heard the words but they made not a lick of sense. “Doesn’t know you’re out, lost in the storm ’cept for God leading me to you?”
She worked her lips back and forth. Swallowed hard. “About the baby.”
“Vivian, you ain’t making a lick of sense.” Had the cold affected her brain? “Of course your husband knows about the baby.”
“I am not married.” The whispered words seemed to escape against her will and as soon as she spoke them, she clamped her lips together. All expression disappeared from her face as if she’d wiped it away with a corner of the baby blanket. Though if he looked real hard he could see just a bit of something hurt and defensive, like the look in the eyes of the puppy he’d ripped from the hands of the man he found trying to shake it to death.
Knowing she expected some cruel word or gesture, he took care to reveal none of his shock, but, despite having lived with censure most of his twenty-two years, knowing she had a baby out of wedlock brought a sudden narrowing of his thoughts. Just as quickly, he let the criticism vanish. Everyone deserved a chance to prove himself. He’d offer this woman as much. On the heels of the realization she was unmarried came a flare of relief that he pointedly denied.
Her eyes narrowed as if she’d read something in his face—something he had meant to hide.
“He’s mine.” She splayed her hands over the baby. Her lips tightened.
Well, he never expected that. Had kind of thought she might see how relieved he was to know she wasn’t married. Why, all of a sudden, was she insisting the baby was hers? He hadn’t even considered otherwise, but her quick insistence and the defensive tone of her voice triggered misgivings in his mind. He carefully added up the things he noticed without heeding.
She didn’t know enough to warm the milk.
Nor remember to change the wet pants without his reminder.
She was out in a storm. What could be bad enough to drive her out in this weather?
It all added up to suspicious. Was she in danger? If so, he would protect her. Or had she done something that would bring a posse down about the rafters? Even then, he would see she was treated fairly.
“I’m going to town to find Joshua’s father. We’ll make things right. You’ll see.”
He nodded, then turned to peer out the window. Snow plastered against the glass as if painted there by an unseen hand. His insides churned like he’d guzzled a gallon of sour milk. Why had this storm dumped her into his life, upsetting the peace his ma needed…triggering thoughts and desires he thought he’d successfully buried years ago?
He stilled the impatience in his heart knowing he could do nothing to change the weather except pray. He leaned against the wall, staring at the whitewashed window. Lord, with one word You stopped the stormwhen You were on earth. Maybe You could see fit to say a word or two today to stop this storm.
As soon as he could see to find his way, he’d take Vivian and her baby to town. Before Ma came apart at the seams. Aware of a faint call from some distant part of his heart, he added, before his carefully constrained life exploded out of control.
In the meantime, they needed shelter.
And the cats clamored to be fed. He rescued the bucket from the floor where Ma abandoned it and poured the milk through the clean cloth saved for that purpose. He filled the half-dozen pans under the table and the cats happily lapped at their dinner. He set jugs of strained milk to cool. Good thing Ma insisted on keeping the cow producing. Otherwise, how would they feed the baby?
Funny, Vivian didn’t nurse her baby. He mentally added it to the list of things causing suspicion.
Vivian sank into the rocking chair where she could keep her gaze on Ma’s back. The air quivered with tension from both women.
Billy stood at the cupboard, wondering how one entertained a pretty, young guest. He could think of nothing to talk about.
Cat and Fluffy crawled into Ma’s lap and she stroked them. Maybe that would calm her.
Billy eased back to the fireplace and hunkered down on the stool he’d built specially for his weight. His insides settled into claylike heaviness at the way Vivian’s arms tightened, and how she blinked as if startled. She might be kind but she still feared him.
“Got to be hard—on your own with a new baby.”
She chuckled softly. He liked the sound of her amusement—soft and calming, reminding him of the wind through the top branches of the trees along the creek.
“Much harder than I dreamed.” She ducked her head but not before he saw a flash of stubbornness.
He allowed a one-cornered smile to tip his mouth. He admired a person with lots of grit when it came to facing life’s challenges. And he suspected Vivian had more than her share of difficulties tossed her way and yet she’d come back to Quinten as if to defy those circumstances. His smile fled, replaced with wariness that tightened his mouth. A stubborn woman could mean trouble for him and Ma. And no, he wouldn’t welcome a bit of trouble for the enjoyment of some time spent with Miss Vivian.
The wind howled around the house, rattled the windows and sent shafts of cold across the floor. He didn’t need to stir himself to know the storm worsened rather than let up. The room seemed overcrowded with Vivian and the baby in one corner, and Ma shivering in the other, and he went to the window and stared out. He longed to be able to trot out to the barn and check on the animals. But he didn’t dare leave Ma alone.
Vivian’s kindness had been so easily given when they were both at school. Truth was, he placed her on kind of a pedestal. Yet every instinct in him said she was going to turn his life inside out and upside down if he wasn’t careful.
If only the storm would end.
Lord, why have You put me in this situation?
Was God expecting him to see no harm came to that little baby?
It was the only thing that made sense.
As if to confirm his thinking, the baby started to cry.
Ma let out an echoing protest and covered her ears. “Don’t like baby crying.”
Billy sighed. Life would not settle back to normal as long as this woman and the little one remained. He gave one more imploring look