Mail-Order Christmas Baby
* * *
Sterling searched for his voice, which seemed to be locked somewhere in the back of his throat. Otto covered his eyes with one hand and shook his head.
Mrs. Dawson shot Heather a withering glare with enough heat to melt the shingles off a roof. She collapsed onto a bench and threw her wrist over her forehead. “I’ve been shaken to the core.”
Mrs. Dawson was shaken, all right—she was practically vibrating with excitement. The woman thrived on gossip like a hog on slop.
Heather O’Connor.
She’d gone so pale, even her lips were leached of color.
No one was looking at him anymore; all eyes were focused on Heather and the baby—the baby with a glimpse of red curls peeking out from beneath her eyelet bonnet. Ladies leaned their ears toward one another and spoke in shocked whispers. Gloved hands hovered over rapidly moving lips. Sterling’s ears buzzed. The talk had already begun.
His gaze skittered around the platform and clashed with Heather’s. She blinked rapidly, and her mouth opened and closed. Her fingers fluttered against her ashen cheek. The crowd split their attention between the postmaster’s frantic fanning of Mrs. Dawson and Heather’s hand cupping the back of the baby’s head.
A jolt of pity spurred him into action.
He crossed the platform in two long strides and caught Heather’s elbow. “I would have helped you. Why didn’t you simply ask?”
“No.” She gasped. “There’s been a mistake.”
“I’m going to strangle Dillon.” Heather’s arm trembled beneath his fingers, and he struggled against a white-hot wave of fury. “He’ll do right by you, I promise you that.”
“We didn’t...she isn’t...you don’t understand!”
His chest tightened. The blame rested solely on his shoulders. He’d been responsible for her split from his brother, after all. His intentions were sound, though the outcome was proving calamitous. Their pa wasn’t an evil man, but he’d been manipulative and controlling. As the eldest son, Dillon had suffered the most. Their ma had warned the brothers about trying to please a man who only found fault, but Dillon craved their pa’s approval. Nothing he ever did was good enough, and the crushing pressure was shaping Dillon into a man Sterling didn’t recognize. He’d known instinctively that if he hadn’t removed his brother from their pa’s oppressive influence, he’d have grown into a miserable man.
And Dillon would have stayed in Valentine for Heather. Anybody would. She was the sort of woman who made a man want to settle down and stay put. Sterling had convinced his brother to join the cavalry with only the barest hint of regret. The sweethearts were young. He’d talked himself into believing the flirtation was superficial and too new to last. Dillon’s easy acquiescence and their subsequent separation had convinced him that he’d made the right choice.
Except he hadn’t anticipated a child. The stark pain in Heather’s eyes ripped away the last remnants of his convictions. Dillon had wronged her, but Sterling had wronged them both.
Mrs. Dawson straightened her spine and touched her gloved fingertips to her chest. “I cannot believe you’d betray your own brother this way.”
Sterling’s stomach clenched and he absorbed the full brunt of the accusing stares. In his shock, he’d forgotten his name was on the certificate, not Dillon’s.
“The two of them must have been carrying on right under Dillon’s nose,” someone said behind him.
“Wait just a minute,” he ordered, unsure how to defend himself without dragging Dillon and Heather down along with him.
Otto blocked his view. “Don’t say anything, son. Not until we’ve got this sorted out. You’ll only make matters worse for the both of you.”
Tears pooled in Heather’s eyes, and Sterling instantly longed to reach out and comfort her. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he’d always been drawn to Heather. Her looks were more exotic than traditionally pretty. During his travels he’d often found himself comparing other women he met to her. Her fiery red hair drew attention, and her button nose was adorable. Soft freckles dusted her face from forehead to chin, and her pale blue eyes were surrounded by nearly transparent eyelashes. No one would ever call her beautiful, but she was definitely eye catching.
It was because he admired her that he’d kept his distance. His feelings for her had no bearing on why he’d convinced Dillon to join the cavalry, but she’d never understand. Neither of them would. He sensed if he let down his guard, she’d see past his bravado and discover the truth of his betrayal.
Mrs. Dawson slapped down the postmaster’s waving arm. “It’s forty degrees. Stop fanning me, you dolt.” Sensing she was losing the crowd’s attention, Mrs. Dawson’s voice grew shrill. “We deserve an explanation for this—this travesty.”
Heather started forward. “Let me see that paper. How do I know you’re not lying?”
Otto held her back. “She’s not lying. I saw myself.”
Sterling’s thoughts ricocheted around his head. Dillon had never given him any indication they’d been intimate, yet everything fell into place. After Dillon left, Heather had gone to stay with a friend in Butte. The timing worked, yet questions burned in his brain. Why list him? Had she discovered his part in their breakup? Was this a chance for revenge?
“Miss O’Connor wants a piece of that ranch,” the postmaster mused loudly. “When she couldn’t snag the older brother, she set her sights on the younger one.”
Sterling grabbed the man by the scruff of his shirt and nearly lifted him from his feet. “Say that again.”
Otto wrestled the postmaster free. “Not here, Sterling.”
Heather pressed both hands against her mouth and shook her head. “This isn’t right. None of this is right.”
Fury pulsed through him. Sterling felt as though he was separating from his body. He’d trusted his brother. There were no secrets between the two of them.
The child reached out a pudgy hand and tugged on Heather’s lapel. Her chubby pink cheeks plumped into a grin, revealing her two lower teeth.
“Ma!” the child declared. “Ma!”
The breath whooshed from Sterling’s lungs. It appeared there was at least one secret between them.
Chapter Two
“This is a disgrace,” Reverend Morris declared. “A disgrace and a black mark on our community.”
The reverend, summoned by the crowd, had hustled them into the church and away from the prying eyes of the townspeople. Sterling and Otto had filed in behind Heather and taken a seat across the aisle.
She slumped in the pew, her eyes downcast. Placing a hand over her churning stomach, she stared at a scuff mark on the floor. Normally she adored the Valentine church. Stained glass windows cast colorful patterns along the polished wood floors, and the vibrant white walls of the nave kept the interior bright and cheerful.
Pressure built behind her eyes. Today was different.
The mail-order baby crawled along the length of a pew, her bare knees squeaking over the polished wood. They’d relegated the care of Grace to her, and she was doing her best to look out for the child.
“I hold myself accountable for the morality of this town.” The reverend paced before them, two fingers smoothing his thick, gray beard. “And you have grievously disappointed me.”
Reverend Morris was a fiercely principled man with a strict moral code of right and wrong, good and bad. There was no middle ground in his mind. If Heather had any complaints about his leadership, it was that his sermons tended to lean more toward righteousness and virtue, and less toward forgiveness and mercy.
“I haven’t done anything to disappoint anyone.” Heather spoke weakly, the denial sounding feeble even to her own ears. “This isn’t my child.”
For an instant she was back at her aunt and uncle’s house, taking the blame for something one of her cousins had done. Never once could she recall her aunt and uncle taking her side against their own children. She was the outsider, so she must be the guilty party, every time.
“Then who does she belong to?” Reverend Morris demanded.
“I don’t know!”
“And you, Sterling.” The reverend stretched out his arm. “Your pa just two months in his grave.”
Sterling fisted his hands on the back of the pew and avoided Heather’s gaze. But her shoulders wilted. She’d seen the doubt in his eyes. If he didn’t have faith in her, he should at least have faith in his brother. Despite her brief infatuation with Dillon, the brothers had always been honorable. Clearly someone had entrapped them both.
Otto sprang to his feet, his hat clutched in his hands. “If these two fine folks say they don’t know anything about this child, then I believe them. And you should too.”
Grace pulled herself up and gummed the back of the pew.
“She’s leaving teeth marks,” the reverend declared. “Don’t let her do that.”
Feeling unaccountably guilty, Heather grasped the child and set her on her lap. Grace turned her curious attention to the lace edge of her collar.
Sterling scooted toward the aisle and leaned her way. “You don’t have to bear this alone. I will make Dillon do the right thing by you. I promise.”
“Oh no you won’t.” Her heart skittered and stopped. She couldn’t think of anything more horrible than being married to Dillon. “This is not our child, and I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I know the truth.”
She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life attached to a man who’d broken up with her by leaving a note. Especially bound by a child who didn’t belong to either of them.
The reverend narrowed his gaze. “Do you still have feelings for Dillon?”
“No.” She huffed. “And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well...” The reverend gave a vague gesture. “There’s the child.”
“For the last time, this is not my child. And if this is Dillon’s child, why did he fill out his brother’s name?”
Gracie grasped the ribbons of her bonnet and stuck the ends in her mouth.
“Let’s all take a deep breath.” Otto gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “These are highly unusual and highly irregular circumstances.”
“Highly irregular indeed,” the reverend murmured.
“Hear me out,” Otto continued. “Are we going to believe a piece of paper over two people who have been model citizens in our community?”
The reverend tugged on his beard. The fingers of his gaunt hand were swollen and gnarled with rheumatism. “Even if I believe them, there is a child involved. What do you propose we do with her?”
“Find out where she came from,” Otto said. “You should at least allow these two fine people the opportunity to prove their innocence before you find them guilty.”
The reverend sighed dramatically and tapped his foot. “Miss O’Connor, it’s an undisputed fact that Sterling’s older brother, Dillon, once courted you. Is that correct?”
“He took me for a buggy ride a few times. I’d hardly call that courting.”
“And the two of you parted ways rather suddenly.”
“Dillon joined the cavalry.”
“Following Mr. Blackwell’s departure, you left town for a period of time.”
“I stayed with a friend in Butte.” She didn’t like the direction of his questioning one bit. The evidence was not turning in her direction. “You’re welcome to speak with Helen. She can assure you that I have nothing to do with this child.”
“The child did call you ‘mama.’”
“She said ‘ma’ and then there was a pause, and then she said ‘ma’ again.” Heather had made the same point at the train depot, though clearly no one was paying her any mind. “Her words don’t make any sense. They’re just sounds.”
“Gra.” The child spit out the ribbons. “Gra.”
“My point exactly!”
If only she could stir awake from this nightmare and have a good laugh over the ridiculous turn of events. She’d done everything right. She’d followed all the rules. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with red hair. That particular trait harkened back to a grandfather she’d never met. If she had brown hair, they’d be less inclined to suspect her.
Sterling rubbed his forehead with a thumb and forefinger. “Heather, if you say that you haven’t seen this child before today, I believe you. We all believe you. But half the town heard what she said, and the other half is going to hear by suppertime.”
His placating tone made her lift her chin. “If you believe me, then stop debating the point and get down to business. The only way for us to clear our names is to find the real parents.”
“That’s all fine and good,” Sterling said quietly. Though he spoke low, everyone in the church was listening. “But where do we even start?”
Heather lost her patience. He was lying. He didn’t believe her. She clasped her trembling hands together. Even she had to admit the proof against her was incriminating. It was her word against the writing on a piece of paper. How did one refute a scrap of paper?
“Even if you think I might betray Dillon,” she said, “Sterling would never betray his brother.”
The reverend’s chin jutted out, splaying his gray whiskers like porcupine quills. “A point to be considered.”
The observation had mollified the reverend more than her denials, a demoralizing realization. Why was she the one being judged and questioned instead of the Blackwells?
Sterling turned toward her, but she kept her gaze rigidly forward.
“She’s right,” Otto declared. “I’ve known those two brothers since they were babes. They’re thick as thieves.”
The reverend rocked back on his heels. “All right, then. Everyone in this room agrees, for the moment, that Sterling and Heather are telling the truth. How do you propose we convince the rest of the town?”
“That there is a real problem.” Otto slapped his hat against his thigh. “Folks are going to expect the two of you to get hitched, and quick.”
“Out of the question,” Sterling announced.
Heather crossed her arms. “You needn’t make it sound as though it’s a hanging offense.”
As though this day wasn’t already humiliating enough.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Sterling’s face suffused with color. “I was thinking of Dillon.”
“There is nothing between the two of us.” Heather bit her lip and collected herself. “There never was.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Enough,” the reverend interceded. “Arguing will get us nowhere. Both of you claim that you’ve never seen the child before today. That’s where we start. Where was the child before this afternoon when she arrived at the train depot?”
The emphasis he put on claim gave Heather pause, but she pushed past the doubt. “If we can both agree that we know nothing about that child, then someone falsified that Return of Birth. Who has the ability to do something like that?”
“The question is why?” Reverend Morris interjected. “Why would someone choose the two of you? There is no rhyme or reason to the lie.”
The slant of his question implied an automatic guilt that set her teeth on edge.
“Why or who? Both questions lead to the same answer.” Heather tugged on the soggy strings of her bonnet, having been recently abandoned by the babe in favor of a bit of lace on her frock. “If we’re telling the truth, people should believe us.”
The reverend clasped the inside of his elbow and rested his chin on his opposite hand. “Heather, be reasonable. You must understand how this looks. Just over two years ago, you unexpectedly left town for several months.”
“If everyone who left town for a few months had a baby, the world would be overrun with children!”
“This looks very bad for the both of you,” the reverend forged ahead. “Which is a small sacrifice when you consider what this poor child has been through. She’s been taken from her home and put in the care of strangers. We don’t know what’s happened to her family, or if she’ll ever see them again. This is more than an inconvenience we can sweep under the rug. This is a grave responsibility beyond the three of us.”
Grace grinned, revealing two lone teeth with her silly smile. Unexpected tears threatened, and Heather blinked rapidly. She’d been so caught up in her own troubles, she hadn’t even considered the child’s circumstances. Grace had been sent through the post like an order from the Montgomery Ward catalog. The child must have been cared for at one time considering her health and the quality of her clothing. What had made someone desperate enough to place her child in the care of strangers?
“If Grace’s mother made the choice out of necessity,” Heather said, “then she’ll be missing her child terribly. Perhaps we can help.”
Grace reached for her, and Heather folded her into her arms. By the looks on the gentlemen’s faces, the gesture was further proof against her. Perhaps it was the red hair, but Heather was drawn to the child. Grace appeared to be a sweet and loving girl who only wanted to be loved in return.
Sterling extended his hand, and Grace clasped his finger. She pulled the digit toward her mouth and Sterling frowned.
“No biting,” he said, his tone firm but gentle.
Grace released his finger and reached for his hat. With an indulgent grin, Sterling ducked his head and let her grasp the brim.
“You’re as pretty as a prizewinning peach at a summer fair,” he said.
Heather’s heart softened toward the child. The poor thing was powerless and at the mercy of strangers. Despite everything she’d been through, the babe appeared remarkably good-natured. Whatever her origins, she was a resilient child.
“Wells Fargo is a good place to start,” Otto said. “A baby in the parcels is memorable, which means someone must know something. I’ll speak with Nels and see what I can discover.”
Nels served as the stationmaster, ticket agent, telegrapher, and express and freight agent at the railroad. He never made express deliveries. Never. Given the turn of items people were shipping these days, he’d made a good choice.
“I’ll travel to Butte,” Sterling said. “I’ll find the porter. He seemed extremely attached to his paperwork.”
“Is any of this wise?” Reverend Morris tipped his head toward the ceiling in thoughtful consideration. “Someone has treated this child with reckless disregard for her safety. Someone left her on a train. Alone. Even if we find her mother and father, what then? What if they don’t want her back? We have to consider the child’s interests.”
Vigorously shaking her head, Heather mentally backed away. She had sympathy for the child, but none of this was her responsibility. “I’m sure there’s a charity in Butte that will care for her.”
She flicked a glance at the smiling child. There was no reason for her to feel guilty. Someone else would look out for her.
Since gold had been discovered in Montana, the population of the territory had exploded. There was an almost balanced mix of sin and salvation. Churches had sprung up in equal numbers beside saloons. There were plenty of charities in Butte that were far more suited to look after a child. Because there would be implications in keeping the child here. Grave, life-altering implications.
Except the idea of leaving Grace with strangers caused her head to start thumping. Heather pressed her palm against the pain. Who would abandon such a sweet and innocent smile?
The reverend’s expression remained somber. “If Sterling is unable to locate the parents, leaving the baby in Butte will only make matters more difficult for both of you in Valentine. Folks are already convinced she’s your daughter. If you simply abandon her, they’ll assume the worst. If we can’t discover the truth, you’ll be branded with an unpleasant reputation. You’ll have to leave Valentine, or stay and bear the talk.”
Heather jerked upright. “Surely you’re exaggerating.”
The throbbing in her head increased. She couldn’t shake an odd feeling of betrayal. The Blackwells had brought her nothing but trouble. She hadn’t lied when she’d told the reverend she had no feelings for Dillon. He was an embarrassing footnote in her life. Through no fault of her own, her name was being slandered along with Sterling’s. Nausea roiled in her stomach. In Valentine, all her difficulties seemed to circle back to the Blackwells.
Grace clamped her teeth on the pew once more, and Heather eased her away. The child wailed and flailed her arms.
“Gra! Gra!”
Heather instinctively rubbed her back in soothing circles and gently shushed the angry child.
“That’s another thing.” The reverend focused his attention on Grace with searing intensity, as though she might reveal the secret of her origins if he just looked hard enough. “Who is going to watch her for the time being?”
Sterling coughed into his fist and stared at the tips of his boots. Otto flicked a glance in her direction. The reverend discovered an intense fascination with the button on his sleeve.
Heather’s pulse picked up speed. Surely they wouldn’t leave the babe with her? She knew absolutely nothing about children. Not to mention that people would judge. And gossip.
“I don’t think I should be seen with her.” She flashed her palms. “The more people connect us, the more they’ll gossip.”
“It’s too late already,” Sterling said. “There are half a dozen curious gossips milling outside the door right now. I’m surprised there isn’t a nose pressed against the window.”
Heather winced. How many times in the past had she let her own curiosity get the better of her? Not even an hour ago she’d been on the other side of the rumor mill. She’d been part of the crowd. How quickly circumstances had changed.
She peered out the window and immediately jerked back. Sure enough, a half dozen people were milling about. Gracie reached for one of her earbobs, and Heather ducked out of reach. She’d done plenty of things over the years without the benefit of training. Young children were no different. Just as with her students, they didn’t come with instructions. The trick was never showing fear.
If she didn’t take responsibility for the child, who would?
“I’ll watch her,” Heather conceded.
“Thank the Lord for your kindness.” The reverend clasped his hands as though in prayer. “The poor child deserves care. I’ll do my best to stem the talk,” he added. “But I can’t make any promises.”
Heather’s heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. There had to be a logical reason for the turn of events. By this time next week, her life would be back to normal.
Except there were moments in life that changed a person. There were moments that changed the course of events, whether a person was ready for the upheaval or not. She had the uneasy sensation this was one of those moments.
Sterling fastened his coat. “If there’s something to find, I’ll find it.”
Heather breathed a sigh of relief. By this time next week, this whole incident would be nothing more than a funny story the folks of Valentine whispered about over coffee in the morning. She merely had to care for the child for a few days. Her cousins had only been a year or two older, and she’d cared for them quite often. How much difference did a year or two make in the life of child?
If only there was someone she could lean on for help and advice. During her time in Valentine, she hadn’t made a single close friend beyond Helen, and Helen was too far away to help.
As the schoolteacher, she was in an odd position. She’d been young enough when she arrived that she was only a few years older than her students, but much younger than their parents. Now, women her age were busy with husbands and younger children. She had acquaintances, but no one in whom to confide.
Sterling sidled nearer. “Don’t worry, I’ll find the truth.”
“I know you will.”
A disturbing sense of intimacy left her light-headed. In the blink of an eye her painstakingly cultivated air of practicality fled. Then he turned his smile on the babe, and the moment was broken.
She set her lips in a grim line. His deference was practiced and meant nothing. She must always be on guard around Sterling Blackwell. She must always remember that she was no more special to him than the woman who typed out his telegrams.