The Bounty Hunter's Baby. Erica Vetsch
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that sink in, Frank dropped the money into the till. “Trudy worries about that girl out there all alone. How long are you planning on staying?”
“That depends. I need to see about contacting someone from the baby’s family, and I need to get back on Swindell’s trail.” He picked up the paper-wrapped bundle of baby things. Once Thomas was on the porch, Frank locked the door behind him and pulled the shade, flipping the Open sign to Closed. Esther stood by the horses, patting the black’s nose. The last rays of sunset had dwindled, and the outline of her hand against the horse’s nose stood out, fragile and light.
“Say, you know of anybody who has a milking cow for sale?” Thomas asked as he helped her into the buckboard.
“A milking cow? I don’t know of any for sale. You’d have to go to San Antonio for one, I imagine. Anyway, isn’t a cow a big expense? I can get by with canned milk for the baby. It’s just for a few days until you get him to his family.” She smoothed her skirts as she settled onto the seat.
“Maybe, but wouldn’t fresh be better?” Thomas leaped aboard and picked up the reins.
“I suppose. If you’re set on fresh milk, there’re some Mexicans south of town who have a herd of goats. You can probably get one of those cheap. It still seems a waste of money for such a short time though.”
As they rode back toward Esther’s place, he considered his options. He had planned to leave the baby with Esther and strike out after Jase Swindell first thing in the morning, hoping this was the time he finally caught him, and quickly before he could do any more harm.
But that left a sizable burden on Esther, especially since she was making her living as a laundress. Could he spare a few days from the hunt to check out Jase’s sister over in Spillville or, failing that, to try to find another relative? No matter what, Thomas refused to take the boy to an orphanage. He had spent the first twelve years of his life in an orphanage, and there was no way he would do that to a child if he could help it. If he couldn’t find any of the boy’s kin, perhaps he could find a family who would adopt him. That wouldn’t take too long, surely, not with a healthy little boy. The minute the boy was settled, he would hit the trail again.
But he found himself hoping things wouldn’t be sorted out too soon. Thomas felt an obligation to do the best he could for the baby, but he also felt an obligation to Esther for helping him out. She’d suffered and struggled the past five years, and he could make things easier for her over the next few days.
Contentment settled over him once he made up his mind to stay for a few days, something he hadn’t felt for a long time.
Esther shifted the baby in her arms as Thomas pulled the buckboard into the yard. In the dark, the place didn’t look so bad. Though the porch boards had warped in the sun and the roof could use some attention, the stone house was sturdy, built to withstand a tornado or Indian attack.
What it hadn’t been able to withstand was the weakness of her father. Faced with financial ruin, he hadn’t been strong enough to bear it. He had been too ashamed to know that he’d been duped by his ranch hands, been robbed and that he was now land-rich and cash poor.
And when it had all come to light, Esther had been left to endure it alone. Her father’s last wish was that she do everything she could to keep the Double J, and she’d given the last five years of her life to that task. Alone. No family, no ranch hands, her father dead, and the man she had fallen in love with gone. Even God seemed far away.
Thomas wrapped the reins around the brake handle and hopped down. “Let’s get you and the little guy out of this night air.”
She shouldn’t thrill to the touch of his hand on her elbow as she climbed down. She shouldn’t take such comfort in having someone to come home with in the dark. And she certainly shouldn’t let her guard down and start caring about either of these males, because they would be gone in a few days, and she would be on her own again.
Rip’s tail thumped her leg as she passed him on her way inside. The June night, cool now and pleasant, drifted in through the open doorway. Esther tucked the receiving blanket Trudy Clements had given her higher around the baby who snuffled and yawned in her arms. She smiled as she laid him in the basket, yawning too. Washing clothes was hard work. She rose early, and in order to save on kerosene, usually went to bed early, too.
When she lifted the lantern and shook it, only a little kerosene sloshed in the bottom. She needed to make it last as long as possible, so she set the lantern aside and scrabbled in a drawer for a candle, stuffing it into a holder and lighting the wick. The soft glow illuminated the sparseness of her kitchen. The house had already been on the property when they bought it. Her father had made plans for a larger, fancier house, but it had never been built.
Thomas entered the house, his arms full of packages. “The baby still sleeping?”
She studied Thomas in the lamplight, taking in his dark hair—in need of cutting—and his dusty clothes and tired eyes. He’d filled out and grown taller in the years since she’d seen him. He had turned twenty just before he left, a year older than herself. Now he was a man, full-grown, in his prime. And handsomer than ever. She pulled her thoughts away from that direction.
“Yes, though he’s making noises like he might wake up soon. I don’t have a cradle, so I thought a basket might do for him to sleep in.” She motioned to the laundry basket she’d padded and lined and set beside the rocker. Rip stood guard over the sleeping baby.
Thomas deposited the parcels on the kitchen table. “Silar Falls hasn’t changed much. Frank looks about the same, don’t you think?”
“I suppose. I don’t spend much time in town.” Esther untied the string around the bundle of baby items, rolling the twine carefully and setting it aside. She did the same with the brown paper. These days, she wasted nothing, and she would find uses for both the paper and string. Unable to resist, she trailed her work-roughened hands across the snowy-white flannel. “This will make some soft gowns and blankets.” She opened the fabric to test the length. “Trudy said we’d need a couple dozen diapers.”
“That should get the little tadpole started.” Thomas squatted beside the basket. “He sure looks better cleaned up.” He brushed the back of his finger along the baby’s round cheek. The boy snuffled and wriggled and gave a squawk, turning his head toward the touch as if seeking something. “He can’t be hungry again, can he?”
Esther found the glass feeder bottle among the fabric, carefully wrapped against breakage, and washed it out. Thomas withdrew a knife from his pocket and flicked it open, puncturing the top of one of the cans of milk and pouring it into the saucepan she gave him.
“I’ll see to the horses.” Thomas wiped his knife on his pant leg before closing it and returning it to his pocket and heading outside again.
While the milk heated, Esther changed the baby, who fussed and squirmed as she tried to fasten on another dishcloth as a diaper. “I’ll get to sewing you up some real diapers soon.”
A baby was definitely adding to her chore list. And Thomas was adding to her disquiet. Used to being alone, having a man, a dog and a child in her house, especially after dark, unnerved her. The sooner Thomas got on his way, the better for her peace of mind.
She hurried to the stove to check on the milk. Still not warm, so she poked another piece of kindling into the firebox. Thomas’s boots thumped on the porch floor, and when she turned around, her mouth opened on a gasp.
He set a crate on the table and unpacked it quickly. Foodstuffs covered the surface. Canned goods, sacks, boxes. It looked as if he’d brought the entire general store into her kitchen. He ducked outside and came back with a flour sack over his shoulder and another parcel under his arm.
“What is all this?”
“Supplies.” Thomas let the sack thump to the floor and set the