Baby On Her Doorstep. Rhonda Gibson

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Baby On Her Doorstep - Rhonda  Gibson


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she worked an arm out of the blanket and stuck two fingers in her small mouth. Then she snuggled against Laura once more.

      Motherly instinct swelled in Laura. She gently rocked the baby and sighed. Then Laura straightened her spine and whispered, “You stop right now, Laura Lee. Dreaming and wishing has never gotten you anywhere.” Her gaze returned to the bundle in her arms. “Oh, but I do want to keep you.” She hugged the child closer.

      It seemed odd that four years after her husband Charles’s death, she’d been given a child to raise. Laura looked about once more, then started back down the schoolhouse steps. Before she got her hopes up, she’d make sure that she could truly keep the baby.

      Thinking of Charles brought about fresh hurt to her wounded heart. He’d wanted children so badly. And she’d disappointed him. How many times after they’d realized she could not bear children had he told her of his disappointment? Too many to count. It wasn’t just his words but the look in his eyes that had cut her to the core. The references that never having a son to carry on the good Lee name was a crying shame. It was her shame that he referred to.

      Laura pushed the pain aside and hurried her footsteps toward town. She decided to take the side streets to avoid the many questions that would arise at the sight of her holding a child. Her gaze moved to the sleeping face. Little Hope must be very tired to sleep through the jarring of being held while Laura walked down the dusty roads.

      She rushed to the sheriff’s office and slipped inside. Closing the door quickly, Laura turned to find a bemused lawman sitting behind an old wooden desk. For the first time in her life, she was at a loss for words. How did you explain to the town sheriff that someone had dropped a child on your doorstep?

      “Good morning, Mrs. Lee.” The sheriff stood and came around the front of the desk. “Please, have a seat.” Once she was seated he continued. “What can I help you with?”

      Laura looked down at the child and into the purest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Hope smiled around her fingers. Laura’s heart melted. Someone had given her this sweet child. She knew she’d do all in her power to take care of little Hope and give her a good home. She sat Hope up. “Sheriff, I’d like for you to meet Hope.” She wished with all her heart that she knew where the child had come from. Could she be the product of one of her former students?

      He didn’t blink an eye. The sheriff reached out and took the little girl’s small hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Hope.”

      Hope continued to look up at him with big eyes and a grin.

      “I didn’t know you had a little girl, Mrs. Lee. Where have you been hiding her?” He leaned a hip against his desk and crossed his arms.

      He was teasing her and she knew it. The sheriff was a good man who enjoyed a smile or two wherever they could be found. Laura wondered why the child hadn’t asked for her mother but hugged her closer. “Well, I can’t claim her just yet. This morning I found her sleeping on the school porch.” Laura pulled the note from Hope’s blanket and handed it to him. “This was pinned to her blanket.” She held her breath as he read.

      His gaze moved to hers. “Mrs. Potter isn’t going to let you keep her at the boardinghouse, you know.”

      The sheriff lived at the boardinghouse also and knew Mrs. Potter’s rules just as she did. “Well, I’m going to ask, but if she says no, I’ll have to find a new place to live. I don’t think she’s so hard-hearted that she won’t give me time to find us a new home.”

      He nodded.

      “What I need to know is—” She paused. “Can I keep her?”

      His gaze moved over the paper once more. “Well, the letter is addressed to you, and the request is clear. I’d say yes. But I’ve a feeling there is more to this than meets the eye. I’ll need to do some investigating. I’d hate to think this young lady’s ma is in danger, but it’s odd that a mother would just abandon her child like this.”

      Laura wanted to argue it happened all the time in the big cities, but this wasn’t a big city, and people didn’t drop off their children on doorsteps here. No, he was right. She couldn’t just claim the child, even if she had been delivered like a sack of potatoes.

      He sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Laura. You can’t just keep her. Judge Miller will be coming to town around the first of next month. He’ll make the final decision as to if you can keep her.”

      “Are you going to keep her until then?” Laura asked, looking about the dusty jailhouse.

      His gaze followed hers. “Naw, I don’t reckon I am. You can keep her with you, if you want to, until the judge arrives next month.”

      Joy jumped in her heart. He’d said she could keep Hope, at least until Judge Miller arrived. By then the judge would see just how attached she and the child were to each other. He was a kind man. He’d let her keep Hope. Laura was sure of it.

      Now all she had to do was convince Mrs. Potter to let her keep Hope. Or she’d have to find a new place to live that would let her keep the child with her. But where? She was a schoolteacher on a small budget. Could she afford more than the boardinghouse’s fee of two dollars a week?

      * * *

      Clint Shepard held his daughter, Grace, close. The little girl was sound asleep, something he was grateful for. The two-year-old was a chatterbox. She’d talked most of the way to town. If he could have understood half of it, Clint would have been a happy man.

      He pulled the wagon up in front of the jailhouse, hoping his friend the sheriff could help him find a nanny for Grace. Normally, he left Grace with her wet nurse when he came to town, but once those services were no longer needed, she and her husband had moved to Colorado. Since his housekeeper refused to watch the child, Clint had brought her with him. Besides, he’d decided along the way that it would be good for Grace to meet her nanny before he hired her.

      His housekeeper, Mrs. Camelia Murphy, had warned him that he’d better come home with a nanny for Grace or she was quitting. She’d said she was too old to be chasing after a toddler. Unfortunately, Clint had to agree. She was a great housekeeper and cook, but when it came to running after a small child who raced around the house like the barn was on fire, well, Mrs. Murphy just didn’t have the stamina to do so.

      Clint held Grace to his chest with one hand and tied the horse to the hitching post in front of the jailhouse with the other. He heard the door open and looked up, expecting to see his friend. Instead, a pretty woman with brown hair and red highlights that caught the noonday sun stood in the doorway. Big green eyes looked in his direction. She held a little girl on her hip and smiled.

      The sheriff followed her out on to the porch. “I’m looking forward to hearing what Mrs. Potter has to say about the little one.”

      “I’ll let you know.” She turned and walked down the boardwalk away from him.

      To Clint her voice sounded almost like a song. It was soft with just the right cadence to make him pay attention. He watched her walk down the wooden walkway. Grace stirred against him, reminding him that he had better things to do than stare after a pretty lady.

      He turned to find the sheriff watching him. “What brings you into town, Clint?”

      “I need a nanny, Matt. Mrs. Murphy is threatening to quit. This little girl can be a handful.”

      The sheriff laughed and stepped back inside his office. “Come on inside. I might have just the person you need.”

      Clint followed. “Who?”

      Matt walked to his desk and sat down. He propped his boots up and pushed his hat back. “Well, that lady who caught your eye a few moments ago comes to mind.”

      Caught his eye? No, Clint had vowed after his wife Martha’s death not to become involved with a woman again. Martha had died from an infection shortly after having Grace. Clint didn’t think he could go through that heartache again. And no pretty face was going to change that.

      Clint


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