The Bounty Hunter's Baby
Thomas held up his hands. “There was no water at the cabin where I found them, and when I did reach a creek, I didn’t think it was proper to just dunk him in. I figured getting him to shelter was more important. I wet my bandanna and wiped his face, but no, I didn’t take time to give him a full-blown bath.”
“Dip some of the water from the stove into the basin.” Esther soothed the baby. “Have you fed him yet?”
“With what? All I have is some jerky and beans.” Thomas grabbed the porcelain basin off the washstand and strode to the stove. “Do you have a cow?”
Esther sat in her rocker under the window, laying the baby on her lap and peeling back the man’s shirt wrapped around the infant. “No.”
She had sold the cow to help pay the taxes on the property the first year after her father died. “I have a can of milk. In the cupboard.”
Thomas brought her the basin and the cloth that hung on the peg by the washstand. The baby continued to snuffle and whimper, so helpless and new Esther’s eyes burned, and she blinked fast. She dipped the corner of the cloth into the water and wiped the baby’s face and neck. “He needs a proper bath, with soap.”
Rip whined from the open doorway, and Thomas chuckled. “He’s taken a shine to the little fella.”
“That’s fine, but he still has to stay outside.” Esther unwrapped the baby further, finding a bandanna fastened around him as a diaper. It needed to be changed. “I’m pretty sure you have to warm up milk before you feed it to a baby this small. Open that can and get it heating on the stove. You’ll need to thin it with a bit of water.”
Thomas found the can, a saucepan and her matches. With a minimum of effort, he had a fire started in the stove and the milk warming, as efficient as ever. She had always admired his resourcefulness and capability, but to have him using those skills in her kitchen, as if no time had passed, had her battling resentment. He dusted his hands together. “What else can I do?”
“Here, hold him while I fetch some things.” Esther transferred the baby into Thomas’s arms, ignoring the jolt to her heart as their hands touched. The items she wanted were in the trunk in her bedroom, and she refused to let Thomas in there. She went to the end of her iron bedstead and knelt in front of the trunk—the one her mother had brought with her from Virginia as a new bride, first to Tennessee, then to Missouri. After she’d died, Esther had used it when she and her father had come to Texas for a fresh start.
Inside the trunk was a pair of clean towels, a safety pin and the last slivers of castile soap she’d been hoarding. She paused, placing her hands flat on the domed trunk lid. Thomas was back, with a newborn. Her head whirled, and her mouth felt dry. She needed a moment to collect herself, to think. But the baby cried again, a weak, hopeless little sob, and she pushed herself up, gathered her things and returned to the main room.
Thomas, worry lines bunching his forehead, patted the baby, his big hand dwarfing the child. Esther relieved him of his tiny burden, and Thomas stepped back, wiping his palms on his jeans. “I’ll go tend to the horses.”
Esther spread a towel on the table and laid the baby down. She soaped a washcloth in the warm water from the stove’s reservoir, testing it to make sure it wasn’t too hot. The baby snuffled and squirmed, turning his head every time her hand brushed his cheek. He had hazy blue eyes that didn’t seem to focus too well, and a sweet little chin that quivered. She swirled the soapy cloth into all the creases and crevices and quickly rinsed him off. Before he could grow chilled, though it was a mighty warm day, she bundled him into a soft, clean towel, raising him to her shoulder and inhaling his fresh, brand-newness.
Thomas ducked back inside, this time remembering to remove his hat. He carried his saddlebags slung over his shoulder and his rifle in his hand. His holstered pistol rode his right hip, and bullets studded his gun belt.
Esther bristled at the sight of the firearms. She hated guns. Hated what they represented and what they did to people. Thomas carried his arsenal to hunt men. Guns never used to bother her, but now she could barely stand the sight of a pistol.
“Can’t you leave those outside?”
“Leave what outside?” He glanced toward the doorway, where Rip sat, looking in.
“The rifle. And your sidearm.” Particularly his sidearm. She cradled the baby against her shoulder. “I don’t like guns.”
“I never leave my guns unattended.” He leaned his rifle in the corner. “Guns never bothered you before.”
“A lot of things have changed since you left.”
She settled into the rocker, the pan of milk beside her on the table. Using her smallest spoon, she dripped milk into the baby’s mouth. His eyes opened, and he swallowed, pushing half the milk out again. Esther wiped the dribbles from his chin and gave him a few more drops. He smelled so good, felt so sweet in her arms. Her heart, cold and lonely for so long, warmed a bit, which made her pause. Do not let yourself get attached to this little scrap of humanity, Esther. He isn’t yours, he never will be, and they’re both leaving soon. Leaving is what Thomas does. It’s what every man does.
Thomas leaned over her shoulder to watch. “Say, he’s really putting it away. At this rate, he’ll grow six foot tall by morning.”
Discomfited to have him so close, Esther breathed in the scent of leather and sunshine and that unique something that was just Thomas. Against her will, she was thrust into the past when all she wanted was this man, the safety of his embrace, the warmth of his smile. Once upon a time, she had prayed her future would center around Thomas Beaufort, and all her dreams had been tied up in him.
But not now.
“At this rate we’ll be out of milk before sundown.” Her voice snapped like a clotheslined sheet in a high wind.
“Guess I’d better get some more then, huh?” Thomas still hovered at her shoulder, reaching down to put his finger into the baby’s tiny hand. When the minute clasp closed around his finger, it was as if something squeezed Esther’s chest.
Thomas chuckled. “Got himself quite a grip, doesn’t he? But he can’t go through life wearing nothing but a dish towel. Can you make a list of things a baby needs?”
“I don’t know what a baby needs. I’ve never had a child before.” And likely never will.
“You’ll know a mite better than me.” The reasonableness in his tone chafed. Her hard-won serenity had been upset by his arrival, and here he was acting as if nothing had happened in their past, as if no time had gone by. “If you have a wagon or buckboard, I’ll go hitch it up and we can head to town to get the little fella outfitted.”
Her first instinct was to refuse. Trips to town were painful reminders of her change in status, and going into Silar Falls with Thomas would be too much to bear. The infant in her arms stretched, arching his little back and sinking into a relaxed bundle. He snuffled, and his lashes skimmed his cheeks as he blinked slowly, completely helpless and trusting as he lay in her arms.
He needed help. He needed her.
Thomas was right. She could see this child properly clad and provisioned, but she’d have to go into town with Thomas to see it done.
She looked up from spooning the milk. “What are you going to do with him?” It was the question she’d been wondering since she first saw the baby in his arms.
Thomas knelt beside her chair, putting his big hand over hers on the towel-wrapped infant. “Esther, I know it’s a lot to ask, and you have no obligation, but I need someone to help me. His mama left him in my care, but I don’t know what to do. It was all I could do to get him here alive and squalling. I need someone to look after him until I can find his relatives.”
His “oh my” brown eyes looked deeply into hers, and she shivered at the power he still had to move her. She suppressed the tremor that rippled through her, wanting to thrust the baby into his arms and put some distance between Thomas and her feelings. His hand on hers, so warm and familiar, was the first touch she’d felt in a long time. When she realized just how good it felt, she shrugged him off.
“Will you help me, Esther?”
“For how long?” She closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath to steady herself, calling herself all kinds of foolish to even think of letting him back in her life. How long could he stay before she betrayed herself, betrayed that she had once loved him?
“I don’t know, exactly. I should get back out on the trail, but I’ll put out feelers and try to find someone in the little gupper’s family willing to take the boy.” He cupped the baby’s head, and the tenderness in his eyes threatened to tear down a layer of protective bricks around her heart. “Please? I don’t have anywhere else I can turn. We need you.”
It felt so good to be needed. Even though she knew she should refuse, that she should send him and his problems packing, she found herself giving in. “I’ll help you, for the sake of the baby, for a week or so, until you can make permanent plans for him.”
She could do this. She could help Thomas get this baby fed and outfitted without jeopardizing her heart once more, without regretting letting her guard down.
Couldn’t she?
Chapter Two
“The buckboard is in the barn, but you’ll have to catch the horses. They’re in the trap.” And a merry chase they would lead him, too. Esther usually had to bribe the horses with a carrot or two to get them to come to her in the pasture, or “trap” as the cowboys used to call it. The trap was the only fenced pastureland on the Double J Ranch. At one time, there had been more than thirty horses there, mounts for the many ranch hands her father had employed, but now, only the harness team remained. With good grazing and Silar Creek running across one corner, the horses mostly fended for themselves there.
Thomas nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Figuring she had plenty of time, Esther rocked slowly, the baby snuggled against her shoulder. Regret warred with anticipation, and she took herself to task. “You had best keep your wits about you, girl. He won’t stay. He can’t. You heard him five years ago. He never wants to be tied down.”
And here she was, listening for Thomas to return, the same way she’d waited and watched five years ago when he rode away, praying he’d come back to her.
The baby stirred and nestled against her again. He was warm and smelled of soap and milk and newborn. She’d fashioned a diaper out of a dishcloth and wrapped him in one of her oldest, softest bath towels. Now that his hair was clean, she marveled at its fineness...like dark thistledown, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a bit curly. Cuddling him, she couldn’t believe how quickly things could change. Was it only this afternoon that she saw her life stretching out day after day with nothing to vary the monotony?
“You sure have a sense of humor, Lord.”
Rip inched toward her on his belly, creeping inside. Thomas had left the dog behind when he’d gone for the horses, or more accurately, Rip had refused to leave the baby. He was draped half inside, half outside the door, lying on the threshold, watching Esther and the boy with hopeful eyes, sneaking into the room a bit at a time when he thought she wasn’t looking.
The dog’s ears perked up, and he swiveled his head to look out the doorway. The sound of hooves on the road made Esther’s stomach flip. Thomas hadn’t been gone long, surely not long enough to accomplish his errand. Had he forgotten something? Or was it one of her customers?
She hurried to the bedroom and laid the sleeping baby in the center of the bed. Rip snuck in and sniffed the baby, tail wagging, eyes soulful. Esther ignored him and went to the door.
It wasn’t Thomas.
Four cowboys, all spit shined and slicked for a night on the town, turned into her gate, each one with a duffel tied behind his saddle.
Danny Newton rode in the lead. She bit her cheek. He was Esther’s least favorite customer. Brash and bold, he leered and smirked every time he came by, leaving her with a creepy-crawly feeling and a desire to bathe when he left. His father owned the Circle Bar 5, the ranch adjoining hers to the south, and he had designs on her property as a gift for his son.
“Evening, Miss Esther.” Danny pushed his hat back, revealing dark blond hair and sun-browned skin. His pale blue eyes pierced her, perusing her from hem to hairline, pausing a couple of times on their journey. Heat rushed to Esther’s cheeks. “Nice night.”
She rubbed her hands against the sides of her skirts, gripping the faded fabric. He was insolent, full of bravado in front of his friends. He swung out of the saddle and removed his hat.
“You’re looking fine tonight, Miss Esther. You ready to take my father’s offer?”
“I’ve already declined his offer too many times to count.”
He rubbed his thin mustache in that gesture she knew so well, the one that preceded some remark she would hate.
“Only a matter of time. The tax man is coming around.” He stuck his thumbs into his back pockets, insolent as he eyed the buildings. “Your ranch is going downhill on a fast horse. You could always save my pa the purchase price and just marry me.” He winked and gave her a smirk. “You should marry me. After all, it’s what your daddy wanted, and mine, too.”
She gritted her teeth. “Leave your laundry if you’re going to. And you still owe me for last week’s. I don’t work on credit, so don’t forget to pay up before you go. As to your continued insistence that we marry, I wouldn’t have you if you came with a money-back guarantee.”
One of the men laughed, and a flush charged up Danny’s cheeks. His eyes snapped, and he leaped onto the porch, grabbing her wrist and hauling her up against him.
“Let me loose.” She spoke through tight lips, unwilling to let him know how much he was hurting her...and scaring her.
“It’s high time someone taught you a lesson, little lady.” His breath scoured her cheek. He smelled of pomade and aftershave and sweat and horse.
From behind her, a low growl crawled over her skin, freezing her blood. Rip bounded out of the house, ears flat against his head, teeth bared. His body crouched to spring, every muscle bulging under his brindled coat.
Danny dropped her wrist like a hot rock. He backed up a step, hands held low, eyes wide. “Whoa. When did you get him?” He stared at the dog, easing back another step.
Esther pressed herself against the front wall of the house. Rip advanced on Danny, head low.
“That’s enough.” One of the riders cocked his pistol. “Call him off, ma’am.”
The sight of his drawn gun sent a sick shiver through her. Why hadn’t she bitten her tongue? She knew what Danny could be like. Things escalating had been her fault.
Would the dog obey her? “Rip.”
The canine stopped advancing but didn’t cease his growling.
“Rip. Come.” She patted her leg.
Slowly rising from his crouch, relaxing his lips to cover his teeth once more, Rip sidled to her, never taking his eyes off Danny. Esther risked touching the dog’s head. “Good boy.”
Danny’s face was a hard mask. “Next time you sic that dog on me, I’ll put a bullet between his eyes.”
“I’d think twice about that if I was you.” Thomas’s voice came from the side of the house, and he rounded the corner, pistol trained on Danny. His dark eyes glittered, and his hand was steady.
Esther’s heart lurched. Thomas with his gun in his hand. Her view narrowed, and her heart thrummed so loudly in her ears it was almost as if she was under water. The gun filled her vision.
“Beaufort? I hadn’t heard you were back.” Danny’s eyes narrowed as he looked from Thomas to Esther and back again. Thomas and Danny hadn’t gotten along too well back when Thomas was a hand here. Of course, not too many people got along with Danny, not unless his father paid them to.
“I didn’t feel the need to check in with you first, Newton.” Thomas’s gun and gaze didn’t waver. Esther gripped the doorframe to steady herself.
“You just passing through, or are you staying on?”
“If you can explain how it’s any of your business, I’ll tell you my plans,” Thomas said, his eyes dark and intent.
Danny stood still a moment, as if gauging his situation, and then edged off the porch. “Boys, we’re wastin’ time. Throw your bags down and let’s mosey. We’re going to have us a night on the town.”
Esther pressed her hand to her middle, thankful that in a few moments they would be gone. One by one they pitched their duffel bags onto the porch. Both Thomas and the dog regarded them all as if memorizing their faces, and a shiver skittered down Esther’s spine and settled in her knees.
“I believe the lady mentioned a payment that’s due?” Thomas’s soft voice sliced the air like a saber.
Danny froze, scowling and sizing Thomas up. Finally, he dug into his vest pocket, removed a coin and flipped it Esther’s way. Thomas’s hand shot out and caught it before she could react, holding it up. A silver dollar.
“That the right amount?”
She nodded. “That will cover what he owes and this week’s laundry.”
“What about the rest of them?”
“They’re current.”
“Fair enough. Time for you boys to go.” Thomas motioned with his pistol toward their horses. The gun was like an extension of his hand. “And when you come back, you’ll mind your manners, I’m sure.”
The men were just preparing to mount up when a weak cry came from the house. The baby! She’d clean forgotten about him.
Danny jerked around at the sound. “What’s that?”
Thomas stepped in front of Esther, nudging her backward toward the open doorway. She put her hand on his shoulder and stood on tiptoe to keep her eye on Danny.
Rip trotted into the house and then emerged again with a whine. The infant’s cry grew louder and unmistakable.
“A baby? Where’d you get a baby, Esther Jensen?” Danny shouted, making Rip growl and lower his head once more.
Thomas stood his ground. “I believe it’s past time for you boys to be moving along.”
Danny’s eyes darted from Thomas to Esther and back again, calculating. “If you’re figuring to horn in here, Beaufort, you’d best be the one moving along.” He poked his boot into his stirrup and swung into the saddle. “I aim to have this ranch one way or another, and soon. I don’t know where that brat came from, or how long you’re staying, but you both better be gone pronto.” He sunk his spurs into his horse’s sides, and the animal surged into a gallop, the rest of the men following, sending clouds of dust into the air.
Esther let out her breath, tension trickling away. When she turned to go to the crying infant, Thomas followed.
“What’s going on here, Esther? Why is Danny Newton after your ranch? And why does he think he can get it?” Thomas holstered his weapon and crossed his arms.
Esther wrapped the baby in the towel again and lifted him to her shoulder, crooning to him, trying to ignore the panicked flipping of her heart. “It’s nothing. Nothing I can’t handle.” Hopefully he hadn’t overheard about the taxes coming due. Esther had practiced the most severe economy this year, and she had almost enough to meet the tax bill, barring any unforeseen events, but that was her problem, not Thomas’s.
After all, he’d be gone soon.
* * *
Thomas had his hands full with the frisky team. Clearly it had been a while since they’d been harnessed and hitched. He remembered them from his time as a ranch hand. The bay was shaggy and the black scruffy, and both could use a good currying and trip to the blacksmith, but he used a firm voice and steady hand, and they gradually gentled.
He brought the horses and buckboard around the house, still tense from the encounter with Danny Newton and his crew. Thomas and Danny had never been friends, but they hadn’t been enemies, either. How often did Esther have to deal with customers treating her poorly? And why was Danny hoping to get his hands on her property?
The news that Elihu Jensen was dead had rocked him. When Thomas had ridden away five years ago, the rancher had been in good health, with a profitable ranch and big plans for his daughter’s future. Plans that hadn’t included Thomas.
The condition of the Double J shocked Thomas. The disrepair and despair everywhere was a punch in the gut. The weather in south-central Texas could be hard on buildings and equipment, but this seemed extreme for only five years. If he was going to stay, he could fix up a few things. Too bad he couldn’t spare the time. Jase Swindell’s trail grew colder by the minute. He might be halfway to the Rio Grande by now.
Esther emerged from the house, the baby in her arms. Her eyes looked pensive, and a little furrow had developed between her eyebrows. Thomas helped her into the rig; the touch of her hand in his sent a familiar jolt up his arm. Climbing aboard himself, he glanced at her hands as he picked up the reins. They were so different than when he’d first known her. Then they had been pale and slender, moving constantly when she spoke. Often she wore fingerless lace gloves, wielding a fan or some fancy needlework as she rocked on the porch in the evening. Now they were reddened and work worn, the hands of a woman older than the twenty-four years he knew her to be.
He chirruped to the horses, slapping the lines.
Rip rode in the back, sticking his snout between Thomas and Esther from time to time, sniffing the wind. Sunshine slanted toward the horizon as dusk approached, and Thomas drove into town from the south, turning right onto the main street. He studied Silar Falls, comparing it to his memory.
Not much appeared to have changed, perhaps a couple of new businesses, but on the surface, things seemed the same.
The brightest lights shone from Big Aggie’s Saloon, halfway down the block. He recognized Danny Newton’s horse tied at the hitching post out front. The saddle and harness shop had closed for the day, and the telegraph office was shut up tight. One team and wagon waited down by the livery. At the west end of the street, the church steeple pierced the pink and orange sky.
Thomas hopped down and tethered the team before circling the buckboard to help Esther alight. She didn’t meet his eyes, keeping her head down and walking up the steps to the store. He followed and reached the door in time to open it for her.
As they stepped inside, Rip followed, tail wagging, determined to stick close to Esther and the baby. The proprietor, Frank Clements, looked up from his ledger. “Evening, Miss Esther. Don’t often see you at this time of day. I was about to close up and head upstairs.” He tucked his pencil behind his ear, and Thomas smiled at the gesture he remembered so well. The shopkeeper’s eyes widened when he noticed the bundle Esther carried, and his eyebrows shot up when he saw the dog.
Thomas held out his hand. “Hello, Frank. Been a while. How’s your wife?”
The shopkeeper blinked, tearing his gaze away from Esther and Rip. “Well, as I live and breathe. Thomas Beaufort!” A smile stretched his cheeks. “How long has it been, son?”
“Too long.” Thomas shook his hand, happy to be remembered, though he’d only spent one summer in Silar Falls. “Glad we made it in before you closed. We need to pick up a few things.” Glancing around, he hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. Nothing seemed to have changed inside the mercantile, either. The candy jars still sat beside the glass display case of fans and scarves and combs. Canned goods stood in pyramids on the shelves behind. The sharp tang of vinegar from the pickle barrel mixed with the scent of beeswax polish and new boots.
Thomas snapped his fingers and motioned to Rip to lie down. The big dog dropped to his belly, watching and waiting for the next command. “Wait there and don’t make a nuisance of yourself, boy.”
Esther eyed the stock on the shelves, her lips pressed together. The baby slept sweetly in her arms, and she gently rocked from side to side. Thomas wondered if she was even aware she was swaying.
“What can I do for you?” Frank pressed his hands on the countertop, leaning forward, the lamplight gleaming off his bald dome. He was clearly curious about the baby, but he didn’t ask. From what Thomas remembered about Frank, the store owner didn’t have to ask. If he waited, the information he wanted usually flowed his way. That or his wife ferreted it out.