The Rancher’s Surprise Triplets

Chapter Three

Louisa rushed home with the babies, her mind whirling as fast and loud as the creaky wheels of the cart. Apart from knowing the triplets were miserable with their colds and sore ears, she savored the idea of three little ones to hold and comfort for a time. It was like having her sister, Amy, back in her care. She smiled. More like three Amys.

The meeting had gone well. She chuckled, causing the babies to look at her in surprise. Jasper grinned and gurgled, his discomfort momentarily forgotten.

She leaned over and whispered, “You want to know why I laughed? Okay, I’ll tell you but you must promise not to repeat it to anyone.” Jasper gurgled happily. Theo sucked his thumb and regarded her solemnly. Eli leaned against his two brothers, content to be with them.

Louisa’s heart expanded with a love so intense that for a moment, she couldn’t find room to fill her lungs. This must be how mothers felt when they saw their offspring. Then she remembered her promise to tell them her secret and she glanced about as if to make sure no one spied on them. “I know I surprised Mr. Bo Stillwater and it felt good. Yes indeed, it did.” How did he feel knowing he’d mistaken her refusal to sign up to dance with him as meaning she didn’t care about the fair? She shrugged. Likely he’d not given it a second thought.

She glanced over her shoulder, a little disappointed she wouldn’t get to attend, then turned back to the three chubby boys. “It’s worth it to be able to play with you for a few days.”

They reached the doctor’s residence and she pushed and lifted the cart up the steps and into the house. “I don’t know where you’re going to sleep. This cart isn’t big enough.” There was a sturdy metal crib in her father’s office but he’d need it if anyone brought in a sick baby. “Are you used to sleeping together?” She looked from one to the other. “You’re not going to tell me? Well, fine. I’ll figure it out myself.”

Theo’s bottom lip quivered. Louisa recognized it as the precursor to his crying. Once he started, all three would cry. “I’ll have something for you to eat in a moment. But please don’t cry. It’s hard on the ears.” She had left oatmeal simmering on the back of the stove and it was now well cooked, suitable for babies. Father suggested they be introduced to foods slowly until it could be determined if they were used to eating solids yet.

She poured milk into a cup. Eyed the two other cups she’d pulled from the cupboard. But she only had two hands and it took one to steady the baby and the other to hold the cup. She ignored the remaining cups. She’d go from baby to baby letting them drink. She started with Theo as he seemed the one who cried the easiest. Jasper bounced up and down, eager for his turn. Eli watched placidly, so she gave him the cup last.

She prepared the oatmeal, then sat them up in the cart and went from one mouth to the other feeding them. Before she made the round, the first mouth popped open, waiting. She laughed softly. “I feel like a mother bird.”

Theo’s cheeks grew flushed and he refused more food.

“Poor baby. Your fever has returned. And your ears are sore.”

All three of them grew flushed. How was she to sponge them at the same time? “You wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”

They sobbed and pulled at their ears. She dashed out the back door and grabbed the washtub off the nail on the wall. Thankfully the water pails were full. Otherwise how was she to get water and watch the babies at the same time? Her respect and sympathy for the ill mother grew by leaps and bounds.

She poured a few inches of tepid water into the square washtub and then stripped the boys of their cute little shirts. For a moment she hesitated. How was she to tell them apart without the shirts with their names on them? She studied them hard. They looked as alike as three peas but they acted differently. Theo was the shiest, cried the easiest and sucked his thumb. Eli was the most watchful of the three and seemed to react to what he saw around him. He liked being close to his brothers. Jasper was the friendliest. But just to be sure, she tied a different colored bit of yarn around each ankle.

Satisfied she could tell them apart, she sat them side by side in the tub, supported against the sides so they couldn’t fall, and as she splashed water over the babies to cool their fevered bodies, she sang a lullaby she’d once sung to Amy to soothe her.

Jasper laughed and batted at the water. Eli’s eyelids drooped and Theo sucked his thumb.

“Nap time.” But where were they to sleep? The cart was too small. They weren’t safe on a bed. They’d roll off or crawl off. That left the floor as the safest place. She dressed the babies and put them in the cart, then spread a thick quilt in the middle of the living room floor.

Eli was almost asleep and she put him down first. He opened his eyes, but as she laid Theo beside him, he snuggled close to his brother and closed his eyes again. She laid Jasper on the other side of Eli and soon the three of them slept.

She wandered to the open window to listen to the sound of music, cattle and many voices blended together. Seemed the fair was going well. The league would be able to add to their coffers. Disappointment stained her thoughts. She had been looking forward to seeing the many booths, listening to the fiddlers, buying a treat from one of the concessions. Truth was, she’d anticipated a few hours of fun. Squaring her shoulders, she turned from the window and watched the three little boys. A smile filled her heart and warmed her eyes. These three were every bit as much fun as a fair.

How long would they sleep? She had no idea. But she wasn’t prepared to leave them unattended and slipped to her room to get her Bible. She sat in the big armchair where she could keep an eye on the babies and opened the Bible. She stroked her fingers over the pages. Only eight years old when her mother presented it to her, she’d read it so often that it was now well-worn and much loved. The gold gilt had worn off the edges; a couple of pages were loose. Eventually she would have to get a new one, but giving up this one would be like losing a dear friend.

The book fell open to one of her favorite passages. Psalm eighteen. She read a couple of the verses that meant the most to her. “He delivered me because he delighted in me. It is God that girdeth me with strength and maketh my way perfect.” Sweet calming peace filled her soul. The way laid out before her required sacrifices but none that God couldn’t satisfy in other ways. Making sure Mother was happy and well cared for provided her with joy. Her glance went from the babies to the door of the room where Mother would sleep. Would taking care of the triplets mean she wouldn’t have the room ready for Mother’s arrival?

The details were in God’s almighty hands, so Louisa need not fret.

A footfall sounded on the outside step and she rushed to the door before anyone could knock or call out and wake her charges.

If they were looking for Father, she would send them to the fairgrounds, where he had stayed to take care of any injuries that might occur. She eased open the door, her finger pressed to her lips to signal the caller to quiet. Her hand dropped to her side as she looked into the silvery eyes of Bo Stillwater. “Is something wrong?” Why else would he come? She glanced over her shoulder. If Father needed her, who would stay with the babies?

He lifted a towel off the plate in his hand. “I brought you a piece of pie.” There were four slices. “I didn’t know which was your favorite, so you have a selection. Apple, raisin, blackberry or, my favorite, peach.”

“Oh, my.” Was that the best she could come up with? But his thoughtfulness left her practically speechless. Somehow she expected him to be enjoying the adulation of the many young ladies at the fair. Perhaps she’d misjudged him. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Will you come in and join me? We’ll have to be quiet.” She tipped her head to indicate the sleeping babies.

For answer, he tiptoed in and closed the door quietly behind him.

She crooked her finger to indicate he should follow her to the kitchen. They eased past the baby-covered quilt. She pointed to a chair and he sat while she took two small plates and two forks from the cupboard. “I love raisin.” She took that slice and pushed the peach one to a plate and handed it to him.

He thanked her. “I judged the pie contest.”

“Really? Who won?”

“A Mrs. Rawlings with her apple pie. She isn’t from this area.” He savored a bite of the peach pie. “Good but not as good as my ma used to make.”

“Your mother is dead?”

“She died when I was sixteen.” He ate his pie slowly, thoughtfully as if lost in memories.

“I’m sorry.” She meant to do everything in her power to keep her own mother alive for a good many more years.

“Me too.”

“And your father?”

“He passed away almost five years ago.”

She wondered at the harshness of his voice. “You must miss him a lot.”

“Not as much as you’d expect.” Seeing the surprise and curiosity in her study of him, he added, “He wasn’t a nice man.”

“I’m truly sorry to hear that.”

His hand paused halfway to his mouth with another bite of pie on his fork. “Not half as sorry as Brandon and I were to live with it.” He lowered his fork to his plate with the pie still there. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually grouse about my past. Forget I said anything.” A beat of regret, and then he tipped his head toward her plate. “You haven’t tasted it yet.”

She took a bite, chewed slowly and let the flavors lie on her tongue a moment before she swallowed.

“How is it?” he asked.

“A little too sweet for my taste, but then, I’m somewhat of a pie judge myself.”

He leaned forward. “How’s that?”

She chuckled softly. “I’ve taken care of my mother and sister, who is five years younger than me, and run the house since I was twelve years old. Of course, we had a part-time housekeeper, as well.” Father had insisted she attend classes. Not that Louisa objected. At that point she’d still harbored her dream to become a doctor. “Her name was Mrs. Keaton and she taught me how to bake all sorts of things. Year after year, her pies won the blue ribbon at the local fair, so you might say I had an excellent teacher.”

“You would have liked my ma, then. She was an excellent pie baker.” He cleaned his plate. “Not that we had pie very often.”

That seemed a curious remark. “Why is that?”

“Ma saved it for special occasions.”

A note of sadness in his voice made her ask, “What constituted a special occasion?”

He gave a laugh totally devoid of humor. “Father being away.”

She didn’t need any more details to understand Bo and Brandon had suffered under their father. How sad. She glanced past him to the sleeping babies. She couldn’t imagine treating them poorly or standing by while someone else did. Though they might well grow up to be mischievous and need a firm hand. Who would provide it for them?

“Sorry. Didn’t I just say I wasn’t going to bemoan my past?”

“Seems one’s past is a building block of one’s present and perhaps one’s future.” When had she grown so philosophical? She expected him to laugh but he only raised his eyebrows.

“That makes me curious. What shape does your past building block take?”

“Well, I have always had a loving family, so I count myself fortunate.”

“No suitors?”

This conversation was getting far too personal. After Wes she had no time or inclination for courting. His painful rejection had taught her a valuable lesson. His words still echoed in her head. Look in the mirror, honey. You aren’t worth waiting for. “Care for another piece of pie?”

“No, thanks. Save them for yourself to eat later.”

She felt the steady watchfulness of his unusually colored eyes and looked everywhere but at him. He did not need to know the details of her personal life. She was about to ask him how the fair was going...hoping he would understand it as a gentle hint to return to the grounds, when one of the babies fussed. Before she could get to her feet, all three cried.

She rushed into the room to rescue them. Bo followed on her heels but stood back, looking both lost and afraid. Afraid? Bo Stillwater? How could that be? But she didn’t have time to think of anything but crying babies. She scooped up Theo first, realizing he would become upset faster than his brothers. But how could she comfort him and tend to the other two?

Bo was there. She’d take advantage of another set of arms. “Could you hold him?”

He stepped back. “You saw me earlier. I don’t know anything about babies.”

“No time like the present to correct that. Sit there.” She indicated the armchair.

He sat, or rather, he perched on the edge of the cushion. The volume of the crying intensified.

“Sit back.” He barely got himself pushed to the back of the chair before she put Theo on his lap. He looked uncomfortable, but she needed his help so ignored it. She grabbed his hand and pulled his arm around the baby.

Theo shuddered a sob and then gave Bo a crooked, watery-eyed grin.

Bo grinned back.

Louisa hurried to the other two. Eli wriggled away and she caught him halfway across the floor, scooped him up and perched him on Bo’s other knee. Eli ducked his head, shy before this big man, but Theo jabbered at his brother and they smiled at each other.

Now to take care of Jasper. She picked him up, crooning a comforting tune, but he continued to fuss, rubbing his ears. “Time to put some drops in there, isn’t it?” She headed for the kitchen to prepare the oil but stopped in the doorway. “Can you take care of those two while I tend Jasper’s ears?”

“It seems I have no choice.”

She couldn’t tell if it was regret or something else that deepened his voice. Nor did she have time to dwell on it. She rushed about putting warm oil in Jasper’s ears, then returned to the other room. Took Theo and left Jasper in his place. She tended his ears as well, then gave him back to Bo and tended Theo. None of them seemed fevered at the moment. Perhaps they were over the worst.

She was happy about that, except once they were better, the babies would go to a home. As they should. It was purely selfish on her part to want to keep them longer. “No sign of the mother?”

“We’re still looking.”

“Have you arranged a home for them until you find her?” she asked as she returned to the living room. With Jasper perched on her hip, she gathered up the quilt and draped it over the sofa.

“Not yet. As everyone says, three babies is a lot.”

She looked at the two sitting on his knee, touching each other’s fingers and smiling. Jasper sat happily enough on her hip. “I don’t know. At the moment, it looks like exactly the right amount.” She studied him openly. “For a man with no experience, you seem to have a knack for this. You’ll make a good father.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No. Fatherhood is not for me.”

“Why ever not?” He was tall, broad shouldered, good-looking, had the attention of all the young ladies in the community. Seemed he had everything needed to find a perfect mate and raise a bunch of sweet little Stillwater offspring. Heat raced up her throat at the wayward trail her thoughts had taken.

“I fear I would turn out to be like my father.”

She blinked twice. Thankfully he wasn’t looking at her so wouldn’t have cause to think she looked like a startled rabbit. “I’ve only been here a short time but I have certainly not seen or heard anything to that effect.”

“Good. Then what I’m doing is working.” He sat the babies on the floor and strode to the door. “I must get back to the fair.” He paused as if realizing that he left her to manage three babies on her own.

Not that she couldn’t do it. But it had been nice to not feel so alone and overwhelmed. The poor mother. How had she coped? “I hope you can find their mother.”

“I’ll do my best.” Still he hesitated. “Will you be able to manage them?”

Her throat tightened. No one ever asked if she could handle her responsibilities. And she’d never suggested to anyone that she couldn’t. Her opinion of him shifted a little more to the right as she waved him goodbye.

* * *

Words and images battered the inside of Bo’s head as he hurried away. Eating pie. All safe and homey. Like it had been with Ma. Watching Louisa jostle a baby on her hip. Were women born knowing how to comfort infants, how to carry them? How to dole out gentle touches? He looked at the hand she had drawn around little Theo.

She didn’t look like Ma. She didn’t sound like her and yet something about her reminded him of his mother. And not only because she knew how to bake a pie, though he had no reason to believe it so except her own words.

You’ll make a good father. If only he could believe it possible. Holding those babies had him wishing for things beyond his reach.

His long, hurried strides took him to the fairgrounds and he welcomed the diversion from his tangled thoughts.

He had but one goal in mind—make this fair as successful as possible. And thus raise enough funds to meet the needs. And with three babies to care for until they found their mother, the needs had grown.

What if they never found the mother? The sheriff didn’t seem to be overly optimistic that they would.

If they didn’t, then someone would have to take them on permanently. He smiled as he thought of how much fun it would be to see those three babies grow into little boys and then young men. But it wouldn’t be him doing that job.

He paused to speak to the gatekeeper. “How is attendance?”

“Beyond expectations, I’d say. Jeb took away a bag of cash an hour ago.”

“Great to hear.” The sheriff had been delegated to take the money to the bank to have it kept in the safe.

He continued on his way, and as he rounded the corner of a tent, stepping over the rope fastened to the tent peg, he noticed a young boy of six or seven huddled next to the canvas, sobbing his heart out. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I losted my mama and papa.”

Being careful not to make the boy feel threatened, he squatted down. “Do you want me to help you find them?”

The boy scrubbed away the tears and nodded.

Bo held out his hand and led him toward the office tent, expecting the parents would go there to report their missing child. Indeed, as he led the boy inside, a woman let out a cry and raced over to enfold her son. The father, although less demonstrative, wrapped his arms around them both. “Thank you,” he said to Bo.

“I was scared,” the boy sobbed. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

The man turned the boy to face him. “If you are ever lost I will find you. I promise.”

The boy leaned into his father’s shoulder.

Bo stepped outside the tent. That was how a child should feel with his father—safe and certain. Unfortunately, that was the ideal but not the reality for many.

He heard raucous laughter and hooting toward the livestock tents and hustled through the crowd toward the sound. He soon saw what amused everyone and stood back to watch a boy not yet man trying to control a goat. Seemed it would be easy to pull the lead rope and drag the animal back inside, but if the animal thought she was going to be dragged, she raced toward the young fella and he jumped out of the way to keep from being bunted.

Bo was about to step in and lend a hand when an older man emerged from the tent and strode toward the struggling pair. He grabbed the goat around the neck and led her bleating and protesting inside while the relieved younger man hurried after him.

Another example of a good father. Was God sending them as reminders that he hadn’t known that kind of fathering? That he had his father’s blood flowing through his veins and would most certainly fail to be the kind of father a child deserved?

“Thief. Thief. Stop that man.” He jerked around in time to see a figure dart out of sight and like many others, joined in the chase. Jeb came around the corner, alerted by the call. He reached out and caught the culprit.

It was but a young boy...maybe twelve or thirteen.

“Pa?” He looked around for his father.

Bo watched a man duck back, prepared to let his boy stand on his own. Perhaps even had sent the boy to snatch the money, knowing it would go easier with a youngster. In fact, Jeb dragged him back to the leathersmith display and had him return the money, then let him go with a warning.

If Bo needed any evidence to prove the evil of bad fathering, this was it and he strode away. The rest of the afternoon sped away quickly as he spoke to each vendor and visited with his friends and neighbors. It was especially heartening to see Molly and CJ Thorn with their baby son, Isaac. They had married recently, brought together by the matchmaking efforts of CJ’s twin nieces, who giggled as they chased after a bit of red bunting. He wished them nothing but happiness in their life together.