The Bounty Hunter's Baby

“Esther?” Thomas turned to find her fingering a bolt of fabric, a wistful expression on her face.

She started and then collected herself. “Frank, we need some supplies for this baby.”

“Be glad to help. Flannel, canned milk? Bonnets and booties?” Frank asked.

“Do you have any diapers made up? And some sleeping gowns?” Esther asked.

Frank shook his head. “I have flannel lengths for sewing them up yourself, but nothing ready-made.”

Esther sent Thomas a what-do-you-want-to-do look.

“Can you sew?” He tried to remember if he’d ever seen her making garments. Seemed to him she’d been a fair hand at fancy needlepoint stitching, but her dresses and such had come from a dressmaker. He’d been told by her father to drive her into town several times for fittings and the like.

“Yes, I can sew.”

“Get whatever she needs, Frank.” Thomas stifled a yawn as weariness crept over him. He hadn’t slept in more than forty-eight hours, and his eyes felt like he’d rubbed them full of sand. “I’ll have a look around while you pull things together for Esther.”

He perused the groceries, remembering how bare Esther’s cupboard had been when he’d fetched the lone can of milk off her shelf. She was doing him a mighty big favor. The least he could do was add to her larder. If she would let him. She could be a proud little minx.

Edging past a table full of ready-made menswear, he paused beside a shelf holding lengths of fabric, letting his rough hand trail across the blues and purples and yellows. The bolt Esther had been touching caught his attention. Pale blue with little pink flowers scattered over it. A smile tugged at his lips. Wouldn’t Esther look something in a dress made of this?

From across the store, Thomas studied her, taking in her clothing. She wore a greenish dress so faded from washing it was almost gray. It was too big for her, drooping on her slender frame. The scuffed tips of a pair of sturdy boots peeked out from beneath her hem. And she wore no hat or bonnet. When he’d known her before, she’d worn pretty gowns with lots of ruffles and lace, and she had shoes and parasols to match. Gloves and bonnets and fans. Her father had given her everything she could want. He remembered back to the blue dress she’d worn to the church social the night before he left Silar Falls. Her hair had been all piled up, and her eyes shone. Every young man in the place, Thomas included, couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Maybe he should’ve stood up to her father all those years ago. When Elihu Jensen had learned that one of his hired hands was falling for his lovely daughter, he’d taken Thomas aside and given him an ultimatum: ride on and leave Esther alone, or be run off.

“You’re penniless. There is no way you can support my daughter. You’re a nobody, and I have bigger plans for her. Pick up your pay and your bedroll and clear out. She’s too young to know her own mind right now, and she deserves better than a saddle tramp.”

And because he’d been young and impressionable, Thomas had listened. He hadn’t been in a position then to support a wife, certainly not one as well off as Esther had been. He had no skills beyond cowboying. And he loved Esther and wanted the best for her. Though it had about killed him to leave her, he’d gone. He’d become a bounty hunter after learning new skills, but he’d never forgotten her.

He’d known then he wasn’t good enough for her, that she deserved better than him. He was a nobody who didn’t even know who his parents were. A foundling, a drifter. As a bounty hunter, he was accustomed to being seen as a necessary evil, moving on the outskirts of society, a manhunter who most folks didn’t want to associate with.

And still not good enough for Esther Jensen.

“How many yards of this flannel?” Frank asked Esther.

She shifted the baby to her shoulder. “I don’t know. How much do you recommend? We need diapers and gowns and blankets.”

“Let’s call in the expert.” Frank headed for the stairs at the back of the store and hollered up. “Trudy? Can you come down for a minute?”

Frank’s tiny wife bustled down the steps, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Yes?” Her dark eyes darted quickly, lighting on Esther. “Why, Esther Jensen, it’s so nice to see you. It’s been weeks, child. You don’t come in nearly often enough. And who is that there with you? A baby? My lands, child. Where did you get yourself a baby?” She embraced Esther and then hugged her again.

“He’s an orphan.” Esther’s arms tightened around the boy. “We’re looking after him until Thomas can find his people.”

“Thomas Beaufort.” Trudy’s smile lit the store. He snatched off his hat and nodded as she advanced on him with her arms outstretched. Trudy hugged everybody, he recalled. “I remember you. It’s good to see you back in these parts. Frank told me he heard you had a big arrest not too long ago. The Burton Boys? I try to keep up on all the news, especially when it’s about someone I know.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Not only had he captured the four-man gang of outlaws, he’d earned himself a hefty bounty in the process.

“Trudy.” Frank held up a length of flannel. “They need to outfit the little guy, and you’d know what they need better than I would.”

“Of course, of course. Let me see.” Trudy, though bird-like and small, tended to blow through a room like a tornado. Esther was bustled over to the dry goods counter, and Trudy exclaimed over the baby, putting her arm around Esther’s waist and talking nineteen to the dozen.

“Isn’t he beautiful? And you need a complete layette? Of course you do, what with this little sweetheart being dropped in your lap, as it were. I remember when my first was born. I didn’t have so much as a safety pin to call my own, traveling in that bouncy wagon across the plains. I cut up my best flannel petticoat to make diapers.” She continued on, talking and whisking bolts of fabric onto the counter. Her shears snicked as quickly as her tongue, cutting lengths and folding them. “Do you need me to include a pattern for the gowns? Thread, needles, bias tape? Of course you do. I have just the thing.”

With the women occupied, Thomas motioned for Frank to join him. He had questions he didn’t want anyone overhearing.

“Frank, you still know everybody in town?” Thomas reached for a couple of cans of peaches and set them on the counter.

The storekeeper picked up a feather duster and flicked it over a row of McGuffey readers. “Can’t think of anybody I don’t know.” He grinned. “Course, if I could think of them, I’d know ’em, right?”

“Has anybody heard anything about Jase Swindell lately?” Thomas kept his voice low.

Frank stopped dusting. “That who you’re after now? Jase Swindell?”

Thomas nodded. “Off and on for almost a year. Since he killed a guard while busting out of Huntsville. Seems he runs to Mexico, but he doesn’t stay there. Keeps coming back north.” The liaison with the woman was most likely responsible for that. Now that she was dead, would Swindell come back to Texas ever again?

“We heard about the escape.” Scratching his chin, Frank thought hard. “If he’s been anywhere in the county, I haven’t gotten wind of it. When him and his gang got caught the first time, the rest of his kin around here lit a shuck for the hills, cleared out. Only one left is his sister, Regina. And she isn’t right in the head, from what I hear. Does her shopping over in Spillville, so I don’t hear much about her.”

“Nobody else who used to run with the Swindells? Nobody around here who would hide him?”

“No, can’t think of anybody. He left a lot of victims and no friends hereabouts. Like Esther, poor thing. You could’ve pushed me over with a twig when I heard her pa shot himself.”

“He did what?” Thomas cringed as the question came out too loudly, and Trudy and Esther turned toward him. Lowering his head and his voice, he asked, “Esther said he was dead, but she didn’t say how.”

“Well, she wouldn’t, would she? When the rustlers wiped out Elihu’s herd, he just didn’t have the strength to go on.”

Thomas braced his hands on the countertop. Elihu had killed himself after his cattle had been rustled.

Elihu’s cattle had been rustled by the Swindell Gang, led by Jase Swindell.

Thomas looked down the store to where Esther cradled the baby.

Jase Swindell’s baby.

How could he tell her?

Frank flicked the duster over another shelf. “Elihu left a note, telling Esther he was sorry, and begged her to forgive him and to do everything she could to hold on to the ranch. It was the talk of the county for months. The hands all quit. Sheriff Granville suspected at least half of them had to be in on the rustling. Poor Esther’s been taking in laundry and scratching out a living out there alone for the last five years.” Frank rubbed his palm across his bald head. “How long did you ride for the Double J?”

Thomas shrugged, his mind still reeling as he put all the pieces together. “Just the one summer five years ago. But I didn’t punch cows. Jensen hired me on to fence a pasture. I spent three months driving post holes and stringing wire.” And watching for glimpses of the boss’s daughter.

“Esther sure took her daddy’s death hard, especially since it was by his own hand. Some folks in town weren’t too nice to her right after it happened. Always thought that was a shame, since it wasn’t her fault. But folks feel peculiar about suicide. I wondered if she could make it when she set up as a laundress. From what she spends in here, she’s barely keeping body and soul together.”

Guilt hooked its claws into Thomas’s chest. Esther, poor and struggling, didn’t fit what he’d known about her. And he’d left her to struggle on her own.

“Frank,” Trudy called out, hands on hips as she scanned the shelves of fabric. “Did you sell the rest of that cotton sheeting? Or am I looking at it and just can’t see it?”

Frank went to help, and Esther edged toward Thomas. “She keeps piling things onto the counter. I can’t seem to hold her back,” Esther whispered. “Surely a baby doesn’t need so many things. It’s going to cost the earth.”

Thomas shrugged. “She’s raised three kids. I reckon she should know what one baby needs. Don’t worry about the expense.”

“Don’t worry? I don’t think you know how things add up.” She bit the side of her thumbnail, the crease between her brows deepening. Frank’s assessment of her financial situation hit him again.

Which made him more determined than ever to help her.

“Peaches?” Esther picked up one of the cans he’d put on the counter. “I remember those were your favorite.” The wistful hint to her voice tugged at Thomas, harking back to happier days when she had surprised him with a peach cobbler for his birthday.

“Still are, though I don’t get them often, being out on the trail all the time.”

“Don’t you have a home base?” she asked. “Are you always moving from place to place?”

He shrugged. “No home base. I go wherever the trail leads, me and Rip.” The dog’s head came up at the sound of his name. “We stay in hotels or boardinghouses or sleep out, depending on our quarry. We’re never in one place too long. Been like that all my life.”

“That’s sad. I might have lost a lot, but I still have my home. I don’t know what I would do if I lost that, too.” Bleakness entered her eyes, and Thomas wanted to put his arms around her and the baby and tell her everything would be all right. But he had no right to do that and no assurance that things would be all right.

The baby began to fuss, and Trudy bustled over. “Let’s go upstairs and get him changed before you head home. And I imagine you could use a cup of tea. While we’re at it, let’s look through my storage trunk. I might still have some baby things left over from my own children.”

Thomas smiled at how Trudy managed everyone, so kind that you half didn’t mind her being a bit pushy. He was grateful to have Esther out of the way for a bit so he could get on with his plans.

By the time she was ready to leave, Thomas had made several trips out to the buckboard. He slid his purchases under the tarp and returned for Esther’s bundle of baby things.

“I’m sorry it’s so much.” Esther frowned.

“And I’m pretty sure I told you not to worry about it. You and Rip head outside, and I’ll settle up.” When she’d gone, Thomas reached into his vest pocket for his money pouch. He handed Frank a fifty-dollar gold piece. “Put the rest on Esther’s account, will you? And, Frank, I’d just as soon the whole town didn’t know I was back.”

Frank smiled, nodding, and made a note in his ledger. “I’ll keep it under wraps. And I’ll tell Trudy, too.”

“Thanks, and if you remember anything about Jase Swindell, get word to me.”

“Where will you be? The hotel? The boardinghouse?”

“I’ll be staying out at Esther’s tonight.” He paused. “In the bunkhouse.”

Letting 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.

Chapter Three

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 parcel on a chair since the tabletop was full.

“How much are you planning to eat? Or are these for the trail when you get ready to leave?” Esther picked up a sack of Arbuckle’s coffee beans. She hadn’t had coffee in ages, and her mouth watered at the thought.

Thomas pushed his hat back and scratched his head. “I won’t be hitting the trail right away.”

She set the coffee beans on the table as if they were made of glass. Her insides stilled like the coppery air before a summer thunderstorm. “What are you going to do, then?”

“I’m going to stick around Silar Falls for a while.” He shrugged. “The little fellow can’t exactly travel at the moment, and even if he could, where would I take him? I’ll need some time to track down his family.”

“And in the meantime? Will you take him to the hotel in town or a boardinghouse?” Neither place was ideal for an infant.

“You said you’d help me with him, remember? Until I could make other arrangements?”

“I thought you meant feeding him and getting him properly clothed. You’ll be riding out tomorrow, right?” He couldn’t mean to stay. That was too much to bear. “Or were you going to leave him here while you locate his family?” Even as she said the words, she knew she wouldn’t escape this encounter unscathed. The longer the baby stayed, the more she would grow attached. Then Thomas would ride in, take the baby and leave her alone again.

Before he could reply, the baby’s fussing turned to a full-blown wail. They needed to tend to him before they sorted out this situation. And it would give her some time to marshal her thoughts.

“Sit,” she said.

Rip plunked his rump on the floor, looking up at her alertly, tongue lolling, and Esther almost laughed. “Not you, silly.” She swept over to the basket and picked up the baby, handing him to Thomas and nudging them toward the rocker. “Hold him while I fix his bottle.”

Thomas took the child, sinking into the chair and cradling the infant as if he were made of soap bubbles. The baby’s face screwed up and reddened, his cries sounding so heartbroken.

“What should I do?” he asked.

Esther didn’t miss the panic in his voice, and it was a bit comforting to find something he wasn’t confident about.

“Rock him, pat him, sing to him.”

The chair creaked as he set it in motion, and Rip got up, pacing and bumping Thomas with his nose, giving soft whines as if to say “make that puppy stop crying.” Esther tested the milk—finally warm enough—and poured it carefully into the bottle. Figuring out the tight, rubber nipple took longer.

“Can’t you hurry? He’s about to throw a shoe or something.” Thomas shushed the baby.

“You haven’t tried singing.”

“I can’t carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it. He’d probably cry harder.” Thomas raised his voice above the wailing.

She finally snapped the nipple into place over the neck of the bottle and handed it to him.

“Aren’t you going to feed him?” Worry clouded Thomas’s eyes.

“I have full confidence in you.” She smiled, taking a bit of pleasure in his being flustered.

Rip whined again, and Thomas grimaced. “That makes one of us. Hush that caterwaulin’, buster.” He shifted the baby to lie more securely in his arm and offered the bottle.