Buch lesen: «Whirlwind Baby»
Praise for Debra Cowan
‘Cowan’s stories have the charm, tenderness and
sensuality that captivate and enchant.’
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
‘WHIRLWIND GROOM is a book not to be missed.’
—Romance Junkies
‘The third Whirlwind western romance is a fabulous historical…Debra Cowan provides a delightful Texas late-nineteenth-century romance.’ —The Best Reviews
‘Cowan takes the qualities of an Americana western,
adds the grit of a chase, and writes a tale that also has
deep family ties, pulsing sexual tension and the harsh
reality of the West. This is a solid western with an
added poignancy that truly tugs at the heart.’
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
‘WHIRLWIND BRIDE is an utterly delightful kick-off
for what promises to be a great mini-series.’
—Reader To Reader
She’d been so careful. He couldn’t have found them yet. Please, not yet.
“What do you think they wanted?” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake still at the outside door, his gaze riveted on her. Her hair. Could he tell that this nut-brown wasn’t her natural colour? That it was a dye made from walnut leaves and husks?
It hit her then that her hair was down, plaited into a braid that lay over her shoulder and against her dress. That all she had on was her nightrail and wrapper. And that all he had on were…denims.
There was a fluttery sensation in her stomach that she didn’t understand. She forced herself to look away from his chest, but she could feel his gaze traveling slowly down her body…
Like many writers, Debra Cowan made up stories in her head as a child. Her BA in English was obtained with the intention of following family tradition and becoming a schoolteacher, but after she wrote her first novel there was no looking back. An avid history buff, Debra writes both historical and contemporary romances. Born in the foothills of the Kiamichi Mountains, Debra still lives in her native Oklahoma with her husband. Debra invites her readers to contact her at PO Box 30123, Coffee Creek Station, Edmond, OK, USA, 73003-0003, or visit her website at: http://www.debracowan.net
WHIRLWIND BABY
Debra Cowan
MILLS & BOON
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To my aunt, Sue Warren Green
Chapter One
West Texas, 1885
Jake Ross would rather eat barbed wire than have anything to do with a kid, but thanks to the supposed “dying woman” who’d left a baby at his door three days ago, he was interviewing applicants for a baby nurse and housekeeper.
On this hot August afternoon, everyone except his cousin, Georgia, had taken off faster than a six-legged jackrabbit. She and Jake were in the large front room of the ranch house. Georgia sat in one of the wide leather chairs at the end of the deer-hide sofa as Jake spoke to a tall woman with a British accent. Miz Alma Halvorson was the first person to respond to the ads that he and his uncle had posted in Whirlwind after determining no one there could or would take the infant.
Jake let Georgia keep an eye on the little girl sleeping on the bearskin rug in front of the rock fireplace while he asked questions. Which was a chore because he could barely think past the hammering in his head. He’d spent Saturday afternoon in a bottle, just as he did every other Saturday and he was still feelin’ the misery a day and a half later. The pounding in his head only throbbed harder every time he looked at that kid.
After church yesterday, he had asked around the small nearby town of Whirlwind about a family for Molly. Riley and Susannah Holt couldn’t take her because they’d just had another baby. Riley’s cousin, Jericho Blue, and his wife, Catherine, couldn’t take in the little girl because they’d just learned they were expecting. And Jake hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask Davis Lee and Josie Holt. They had just lost a baby and asking them to take Molly so soon after hadn’t seemed right.
After speaking to several other families, he’d driven out to Fort Greer and spoken to Dr. Butler about possibilities. No luck there, either. He’d wired two doctors in Abilene and the marshal about families who might take the child, but no one could help right now. Nor had any of the doctors treated a dying woman who’d been of the age to have an infant.
Jake needed to find some help today. Because, if he didn’t, he’d be stuck taking care of it and he just wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Of course, with only one good arm, Georgia couldn’t, either. His uncle and brother might not mind caring for the child, but they did have a ranch to run.
“Whose baby is that?” the persimmon-faced candidate asked.
“I don’t know.” Jake looked down at the blond-haired infant, his heart squeezing. After fussing and crying most of the last three nights and on the trip into town yesterday, she had finally fallen asleep on the ride home. “I thought I told you I found her at the door last Friday night.”
“No, I meant—” She cleared her throat as her gaze skipped away from his. “Does she belong to you? Is she your illegitimate—”
“No, she isn’t,” Jake said sharply, “and what difference does it make if she is?”
She was an innocent child. Jake might not want her, but he didn’t think she deserved to be thrown away. No kid should be left at someone’s door like last week’s laundry.
He still couldn’t believe someone could actually abandon a child. As if the baby picked up on his dark thoughts, she began to cry.
Jake gritted his teeth and walked over to pick her up, handling her just as awkwardly as he had since she’d arrived. She’d been left in one of their wash tubs along with a blanket, some flannels for changing her, a nightdress and two day dresses. A paper had been pinned to the gown she’d worn, with a letter written on the front and feeding instructions on the back.
After reading the thing at least twenty times, Jake didn’t have to pull the paper out of his trouser pocket and look at it to recall the words.
I am a poor friendless woman dying in a strange town. I have no close family or husband and I noticed your kindness to a lost little boy in town. The only way I can bear to part from this life is to leave my Molly with you, not at a baby asylum or foundling hospital. You seem the kind of man who would not let a child starve or be sold. She will be a year old on October 7. I leave her in your care and pray God will forgive me.
The mother had chosen him. Who the hell was she? Had he seen her and not noticed? Her words made him feel responsible for the baby, responsible for yet another person, and Jake didn’t like it.
But he knew how it felt to be abandoned and he wouldn’t do that to anyone. He’d advertised for the right family, but in the meantime, the kid was stuck here. The baby’s crying didn’t stop even though he held her. The throb in his head worked down his neck. He had to find a baby nurse and double fast.
Miz Halvorson’s gray hair was pulled into a bun so tight it made her scarecrow-thin features look even more stern. She stared haughtily at him as he tried to find a position for the baby that wasn’t awkward.
“She’ll never learn to stop that if you give in to her.”
From the corner of his eye, Jake saw Georgia look up from her chair with a frown. His gaze leveled on the older woman. “Are you saying we should let her cry?”
“Unless you teach her how to behave, she’ll never learn to settle down,” the woman said in a tone that clearly intimated he was witless. “She’ll cry every time she wants something.”
Letting her cry sounded mean to Jake. From the tight line of his cousin’s lips, he could tell she felt the same.
“Well, she can’t talk!” Jake carefully settled the kid into Georgia’s good arm, understanding her look that said she didn’t like Miz Halvorson any better than he did. “How else is she supposed to tell anybody what she wants?”
The woman started to say something, only to be interupted by a knock on the door. Jake hoped it was another applicant. There had to be someone better than Miz Halvorson.
Baby Molly cried louder and Georgia patted her back with her unwithered hand, just as she had been doing when the baby had finally given out last night from sheer exhaustion. But this time it wasn’t working. The knock came again and Jake started across the planked pine floor toward the heavy front door. “Thanks for coming out, Miz Halvorson. We’ll let you know if we have any further questions.”
She huffed, following him.
“Goodbye, ma’am.” He opened the door and got his first pleasant surprise in more than two days.
Framed in the soft amber light of the setting sun was a young woman. Her brown hair was up and she wore spectacles. She was petite and a trifle skinny, but she had skin like cream. Lady, please open that pretty mouth and tell me you’ve come about the ad. Unless she was lost, she had to be here for that. He hadn’t had a woman at the Circle R since Delia had passed. Neither had his uncle or brother or the ranch hands.
“I’ve come about the ad—” She broke off, looking stricken as her solemn gaze landed on the British woman. “Have you already filled the position?”
“Not yet,” Jake said quickly.
Miz Halvorson swept past him and out the door, then stopped to say in a low voice to the new arrival, “They don’t know anything about raising children and don’t believe in discipline.”
Holding on to the porch railing, she stepped onto the ground and stomped to her buggy, which sat between the house and barn. The younger woman turned to Jake with uncertainty on her face.
He noted slender curves beneath a blue-gingham bodice and bustled skirt. “I’m Jake Ross. Come in, Miz…”
“York. Emma York.” She cast one last look over her shoulder at the departing Miz Halvorson, then stepped inside, watching carefully as he shut the door.
As she followed him to the center of the room, her gaze went to the baby. Molly still fussed and Georgia bounced her gently on her shoulder. Jake gestured to the woman with dark, silver-threaded hair. “This is my cousin, Georgia Ross.”
Georgia rose and nodded, since she was unable to extend her hand. “Hello.”
Jake gestured to the deer-hide sofa, special made to accommodate any of the Ross men stretched out full-length. “Please have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand, if—if that’s all right,” she said softly, as if afraid he might take exception.
“Of course.” He backed up against the sofa and eased down. She was a pretty thing, with more of a fullness to her breasts than he’d originally thought. And, behind those spectacles, he could tell she had green eyes. Pretty green eyes.
Though, it would suit him just fine if Emma York were ugly. He hadn’t noticed much about a woman’s looks since his wife had died five years ago.
From her spot in front of the fireplace, Georgia asked, “What’s your feeling about babies crying?”
“Ma’am?” Miz York glanced from the woman to Jake, looking confused.
“Before you got here,” he said, “Miz Halvorson was giving us her views on what to do when a baby cries. What would you do?”
Emma York’s fingers twined in the folds of her skirt. “I’d check to see if something was wrong, if she was hungry or needed to be changed.”
The baby twisted and squirmed in Georgia’s arms, and she spoke in a low voice, trying to calm the child.
“And you’d pick her up?” Georgia prompted.
“I imagine so.” She searched Jake’s face as if trying to guess the answer he wanted.
Still wiggling, the baby cried out. “I guess since you found your way here, you know this is the Circle R,” Jake said. “Someone left this baby at our door last Friday night and, until I find a place for her to go, I need a nurse. Right up front I should tell you we also need a housekeeper, someone who’ll cook and clean. Ours was gone Saturday when we returned from Abilene.”
As if Jake’s biweekly visit to his brother-in-law weren’t hellish enough, he’d gotten home to find his housekeeper had taken off and left this baby with Georgia.
“I can do both,” Miz York said with quiet determination.
“Are you sure?” Jake thought she barely looked sturdy enough to fend for herself, much less another person. And cook for all of them.
Georgia gently bounced Molly on one arm. “I would do more, but as you can see, my left arm is crippled.”
“I’m sure I can do the job.” Understanding and compassion darkened her eyes before her anxious gaze settled on the child and softened. “If I may ask, why did your housekeeper leave?”
“She ran off and got married. I don’t think the baby had anything to do with her decision.” Jake tried to keep the tightness out of his voice. It wasn’t Miz York’s fault that Louisa had chosen to leave at the worst possible time. “I’ve advertised about getting a family for Molly. I don’t want to send her to Buckner Orphans Home in Dallas or anyplace like that.”
The baby’s face screwed up and turned red; she let out a scream and Jake moved away, wishing she’d be quiet.
Miz York frowned. “You’re planning to give her away again?”
Jake’s eyes narrowed at the words. Said that way, they sounded hard and ugly. He grunted, seeing no reason to answer to a woman who might soon be in his employ.
She seemed to realize her place and changed the subject. “What kind of food do you all like?”
“Biscuits, gravy, ham. Sweets.” So far, the lady didn’t seem put off. He spoke loudly enough to be heard above the baby’s cries. “Nothing too fancy, but something that sticks with you.”
“So you’d want me to cook and clean? Laundry, too?”
That wasn’t all he’d like. Surprise shot through him at the fleeting thought. He hadn’t wanted to do anything like that with a real lady, in years. Women didn’t distract him, even when he’d been a long time without one. There hadn’t been a woman since his wife, who had insinuated herself into his thoughts.
He jerked a thumb toward the squalling baby in his cousin’s arms. “Yes, and take care of her. We’ll give you room and board. You’d need to live at the ranch. Will that be a problem?”
She twined her fingers nervously and, for the first time, he saw the dull gold band on her left hand. He was stunned to feel a prick of disappointment. Why did he care? He wasn’t getting involved with her. Or any other woman, for that matter. “I guess you’ll want to talk to your husband about that, first.”
“No,” she said quickly, glancing at the distressed baby. “I mean, it won’t be necessary. He isn’t with me.”
Jake didn’t like the instant relief that jabbed at him. He also didn’t examine it. The baby lurched toward him and he took her reluctantly. Her sobs grew louder as she twisted to look at Miz York. Jake juggled the infant from one shoulder to the other in an attempt to shush her.
“But your husband will be here?” Jake asked.
“I’m…I’m a widow.” She pulled her gaze from Molly, raising her voice to be heard over the child. “That’s why I need the work.”
He wanted to ask how her husband had died and how long she’d been alone, but those things had nothing to do with whether or not she could do this job. “Where you from?”
Her knuckles showed white as she gripped her purse strings tighter. “Up north.”
That could mean anywhere. “Up north?”
“Illinois.”
“And you wouldn’t have a problem living at the ranch?”
She glanced at the child as she pushed the spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “No.”
The baby jabbered something he couldn’t understand, trying to lunge out of his arms. “Whoa, there. You’re a slippery one.”
The woman stepped around the sofa and closed the distance between her and him, moving so quietly, with such still grace that the air didn’t seem to stir. Even her skirts didn’t make a sound against the floor. She held out her arms. “May I try?”
Jake didn’t need any urging. He did little more than lean toward the woman and Molly went willingly, looping her chubby arms around the lady’s neck and burying her face there. That kid hadn’t taken to anyone in his family like that. After a couple of gulping sobs, she drew in a deep shuddering breath then hiccuped. The sudden silence was startling.
“What the— How did you do that?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” She hugged the baby close, speaking to her in a low voice and looking…relieved? “What’s her name?”
“Molly.” Jake glanced over his shoulder at Georgia, who nodded. Yes. “Name your price.”
“Wh-What?”
He stepped forward. “You’re hired, Miz York.”
“But…you don’t even know if I can cook.” As the baby grabbed for her spectacles, the woman shifted the little girl to her other hip.
“I guess we don’t. So, can you cook?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re interested in the job? Caring for the kid, the house and cooking in exchange for room and board and a decent wage.” He named an amount he thought was fair.Judging by the flash of surprise in her eyes, so did she.
“That’s very generous.”
“I would ask if you have experience, but it’s plain that you do.”
She looked at him then at his cousin. “Are you just going to take my word that I can cook?”
“Yes,” Jake said, thinking how soft her hair looked. “You don’t strike me as someone who would misrepresent herself. Besides, I’m sure we’ll like your grub.”
Georgia murmured agreement. “And it will be nice to have another woman around.”
Miz York rubbed the baby’s back and he noted that her fingernails were short and ragged. “How many will I be cooking for?”
“Sometimes a couple of the hands might eat here at the house, but usually it’s just Georgia, my uncle Ike, my brother Bram and myself.”
After a moment, she nodded. “All right.”
He realized she hadn’t smiled once since she’d arrived. And, still, she was more pleasant than Miz Halvorson. “We need you to start pretty quick.”
“Now?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, good.” The relief he felt was mixed with an unidentifiable emotion. But the baby liked her and so did Georgia, whose spells of tiredness were getting more frequent. “Did you bring your luggage?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t have much.”
“I’ll fetch your things and Georgia can show you to your room.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze moved to his cousin.
“We’re glad to have you.” Georgia motioned for her to follow as she crossed the big room toward the dining area.
As Jake moved toward the front door, Emma asked, “Where will the baby sleep? With me?”
He stopped, frowning. “We hadn’t much considered that, but, if it’s okay with you, that would probably be best.”
“Oh, yes.” The tightness in her voice eased for the first time since her arrival. “That would be fine.”
Jake nodded, struck by the solemn look on her face. He watched her follow Georgia past one long side of the heavy dining table and stop in the doorway on the right.
“This is Louisa’s old room,” Georgia said. “You’ll be directly across from the kitchen.”
Miz York glanced over her shoulder, looking past the table and chairs to the room beyond.
“We sleep upstairs,” his cousin said. “You’ll want to take a look in the larder to see what you need.”
“Shall I cook tonight?”
“We’d be obliged.”
She nodded, stepping inside the room.
Jake noticed again how carefully she moved. Almost as if she could make herself become part of her surroundings.
That baby was quiet now and still stuck to the brunette like a cocklebur, her little eyes closing occasionally.
Jake’s gaze traveled slowly over the nurse, from her hair down the delicate line of her spine and gentle flare of her hips.
Impatient with himself, he turned for the door. He didn’t want to notice Emma York. All he wanted was to hire someone to care for the baby and he had.
Emma could barely keep from sinking to the floor in relief. She’d done it. She’d gotten the job.
The slightly plump older woman stepped aside so Emma could go into her new room.
“Take a minute to settle in and let us know if we can get you anything.” Her brown eyes were kind. “When you’re ready, you can have a look at the kitchen.”
“All right.”
“Would you like me to take the baby while you unpack?”
Emma could tell the other woman was tired and that had to affect the strength in her good arm. “That’s all right. We’ll need to start getting used to each other.”
Muted red light filtered into the room as the sun sank lower in the sky. This room had two glass-paned windows, one looking north and the other looking west. A large wardrobe covered the length of the west wall from the window to the corner. A wash stand with a cream pitcher and bowl sat on the opposite wall, a rocking chair between it and the north window. A blue, yellow and white quilt covered the bed that looked almost as fluffy as the one Emma had back home.
Jake Ross appeared in the doorway, holding her valise and small satchel, which he set just inside the door. “Is this all you have?”
She nodded.
“I’ll take care of your horse.”
“Thank you.” If either he or his cousin thought it odd that Emma had ridden rather than driven a buggy, they didn’t let on.
During the interview, she’d been too anxious to notice much more than Mr. Ross’s size, but it hit her now that he was handsome. He was the size of a mountain with pure black hair and eyes that were just as dark.
He pulled a piece of paper out of his trouser pocket. “Here’s the note that came with the baby. It says how old she is and what she can eat. And some things about her ma.”
“There were some flannels for changing her and a couple of dresses,” Georgia added.
Mr. Ross muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse. Did he not like the baby or was his dislike over the fact that someone had abandoned the child?
The little girl looked well and fit. Still balancing Molly on her left hip, Emma took the note with an unsteady hand and glanced at it.
Jake gestured toward the heavy bureau with two deep drawers along the bottom and a pair of doors that closed to conceal hanging clothes and shoes. “If you want, we can make one of those bottom drawers into a bed until the kid’s arrives. One of them would be plenty big enough for her.”
“You ordered her a bed?”
At the surprise in her voice, his gaze shot to hers. “Yes, in town today.”
The town he referred to was Whirlwind, a small community several miles west of Abilene where the stage had brought her. “She needs a place to sleep, after all.”
“Yes,” she murmured. How sweet.
“It was Georgia’s idea.”
Oh. “The drawer will do just fine. I can make a little pallet in there.”
“Looks like you’re set, then,” he said brusquely. He walked away and Georgia followed, smiling at Emma as she left.
Still holding the child, Emma shut the door then backed up against it, closing her eyes.
The baby gurgled, tugging on Emma’s lower lip. She opened her eyes and smiled. After shaking out the little girl’s blanket, she spread it on the floor and sat Molly there so she could watch Emma unpack.
The weight of the derringer in her skirt pocket provided a small sense of security. For the first time in the two weeks since she’d fled Kansas, Emma thought she might be able to escape the hell of home.
With the uncertainty of getting the job—this job—behind her, she suddenly felt light-headed. Clutching the night rail she’d just pulled from her valise, she sank down on the edge of the bed, her legs shaking.
Intending to be the only applicant, she’d gathered up every flyer Jake Ross and another man had posted in Whirlwind. Or thought she had. Finding that other woman here had nearly caused her to faint. If Miss Halvorson had gotten this job, Emma’s plan would’ve been ruined.
You don’t strike me as someone who would misrepresent herself.
Jake Ross’s words echoed in her head.
Misrepresent herself? Emma had flat-out lied. She wasn’t a widow. She’d never been married. Her last name wasn’t York; it was Douglas. And she wasn’t a baby nurse.
She was Molly’s half sister and she was the one who had left the baby at the rancher’s door.
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