The Cowboy's Baby Page 6

  His faith was new and untried, uncertain even, but he had prayed the sinner’s prayer with Pastor Caldwell and he meant it. Soon enough they’d all see.

  Colby Bloxham was done with running.

  Colby Bloxham was different. Though he figured God might find him a bigger challenge than most.

  Caught up in his thoughts, he’d blindly followed Carl and his family to the front row of seats before he realized where he was.

  No way would he sit with nothing between him and the preacher. It left him too exposed. Not that he expected anyone could see what lay behind Colby but he wasn’t taking any chances and quickly slid to the chair behind the Klaus family.

  Alex already sat in the front row, holding Dorrie’s hand, and allowed her to edge close to Laura.

  Dorrie turned, spotted Colby and flashed him a welcoming grin. His heart stomped over his doubts and headed straight for determination. He wanted to be part of this child’s life. He’d do whatever necessary to gain that position.

  He stole a glance about and saw many of the ladies pressed handkerchiefs to their noses. He tested the air, found it full of smoke and fumes from the saloon below—something he wouldn’t have noticed if not for the obvious discomfort of the others.

  More proof that Colby Bloxham did not fit here. But he settled down hard. He would learn to be comfortable. Might some day even feel he belonged.

  Anna sat at the organ, pumping madly and playing songs he recognized from yesterday. He’d allowed himself only one glimpse at her as he entered the room. Now he ducked his head to study her from under cover of his lashes. So self-contained, so in control. Not at all like the girl he’d known prior to Rose’s death. Would she remember how she’d told him she wondered if she would ever be what she should be and confessed a myriad of fears and what she thought were dreadful sins? How he’d laughed when she’d complained of her wicked temper. The worst thing she’d ever done was slam her bedroom door. She’d been shocked when he told her the things his old man did in anger.

  She’d be equally shocked, if not more so, if she were ever to learn the things Colby had done.

  He hoped she never would.

  Pastor Caldwell announced the first hymn, bringing Colby gratefully from remembering things he wanted to forget.

  He opened the hymnal and as they began to sing, he recognized the song—“Amazing Grace.” Rose sang it often. Said she never got tired of the victory of the words.

  Suddenly he missed Rose with an ache that sucked away all his resolve and indifference.

  Rose had welcomed him into her home, treating him kindly. She’d touched his shoulder, ruffled his hair. He’d learned not to cringe when she touched him. Even found excuses to invite her gentle gestures. And then she’d died in a stupid senseless accident along with her tiny baby. He’d lost his own mother when she walked away from his old man’s fists. He’d failed to stop her. But it hadn’t hurt near as much as losing Rose.

  Overflowing with sorrow, Colby sought Anna’s face. Anna’s loss had been even greater and he’d had nothing to offer her.

  Afraid she’d discover the truth of how inadequate he was he’d left.

  She met his eyes, their gazes locked as they sang together the words of the hymn. Was she remembering, too, hurting, too? He wanted to do something but again, just as when it happened, he failed to find anything to give.

  The song ended and she jerked away to listen to her father, and then another number was given and she flipped the pages of the hymnal and focused on the notes.

  Colby turned his attention to the words.

  But even though he kept his head down, reading from the hymnal, he heard Anna’s clear voice. Sweetness swept away bits of debris in his heart.

  The song service ended and Anna left the organ bench to sit beside Laura, pulling Dorrie to her lap. Dorrie fussed a moment and kicked her little feet. Only because Colby watched so closely did he see Anna flinch.

  He cringed, knowing if he’d done that, even as young as Dorrie, his pa would have smacked him hard. He remembered his ears ringing, his eyes smarting from the pain. He understood Dorrie must stop kicking but the thought of someone hitting her, even with a small hand like Anna’s made him want to grab the child from her and run out the door.

  Anna simply caught the thrashing feet and held them still until Dorrie settled.

  Relief eased away his tension. His shoulders relaxed.

  He stilled a jolt of surprise as he realized he had no idea how to be a father without being like his pa and he would sooner ride out into nowhere and camp there until he was old and gray than be that kind of father. He watched Dorrie settle into submission.

  He wanted to be what he’d always wanted—a good father—but could he? Or would he fail as he had in the past?

  Pastor Caldwell announced his text, “Deuteronomy, Chapter 10, Verse 12, ‘What doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to fear the Lord thy God, to walk in all His ways, and to love Him, and to serve the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul.’” The pastor closed his thick Bible. In calm, thoughtful tones, Pastor Caldwell spoke about fearing God.

  Colby certainly did that. Sort of thought God watched him to see if he would measure up. Colby figured to do his best to meet God’s requirements.

  As the pastor closed the meeting, Colby vowed he would do his best to please God and prayed it would be good enough.

  And if it wasn’t…

  The next day he returned to work on the church, still mulling over the words of the sermon and what his response should be.

  Last night he’d read the Bible until it grew too dark to see the words. He was going to change who Colby Bloxham was. According to what he read, God had given him a fresh start and God would help him be a better man.

  He figured God had His hands full with that job.

  But how to learn to be a father? He hadn’t found an answer for that.

  Nor had he found anything he could offer Anna. Maybe he never would. But he was here to stay. Perhaps in time he would discover something she needed that he could give.

  He knew the minute she stepped from the house. Could tell by the way she hesitated and fumbled with the basin in her hands she had something specific in mind that involved him.

  He knelt at the ragged foot of a stud he had cut out and waited. Pretending—every bit as good as she—that he wasn’t so aware of her presence he couldn’t remember if he’d driven in a spike or not.

  She stepped closer, pausing. Out of the corner of his eyes he observed how she glanced back at the house and then seemed to push invisible iron rods down her backbone. He recognized that look and knew she intended to do business with him— business he suspected they both might find awkward.

  She drew close, saw what he was doing and gasped. “What have you done? You were supposed to repair the hole. Instead you’ve made it larger.”

  He sat back on his heels. “The fire did more damage than you might think. I’ve had to take most of it down. The basic structure needs repair. Even some ceiling rafters.”

  “No one else thought that. You’ll never finish if you keep tearing apart the place.”

  Her obvious shock at discovering he might be around longer than she’d originally believed left him cold and lonely. Such a contrast to the pleasant thoughts he’d been enjoying—remembering her singing so sweetly at church, remembering details of walks they’d taken and conversations they’d shared when they were but youngsters.

  “You couldn’t see it until you knocked off the plaster. I showed it to your father and he agreed it needed to be done.” He watched her with unblinking patience, waiting for her response, hoping she might regret her initial reaction and voice some word of approval, if not for him then at least for the work he did.

  “I thought—I wanted you—”

  “You want me gone.” His flat voice revealed none of his disappointment that she continued to hearken back to him leaving as if it were a given and couldn’t happen soon enough to suit her.
“I told you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her eyes practically lit a fire beneath his skin as she glared at him. “I must know what your intentions are regarding Dorrie.”

  “I want to be a father to her.”

  “What kind of father?”

  He steeled himself to hide his own doubts. “The best I can be.” He thought of the way Dorrie’s eyes brightened and how she called him da-da. It didn’t matter that Anna said she called others the same. She would soon learn that Colby was her da-da.

  “Do you think it’s fair for her to think people can walk in and out of her life? Shouldn’t she be able to trust people to be there for her through good times and bad?”

  He slowly put his hammer down, crossed his arms over his chest and faced her squarely. “Say what you mean. That I left her when times were bad.”

  Anna nodded. “You did. You thought of no one but yourself.”

  It was the farthest thing from the truth but she didn’t look to be in a very receptive mood for explanations. “It was the only way I knew to deal with Nora’s death. I know you tried to tell me about God’s way but I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t believe it. I guess I wasn’t ready. But I’ve changed. If you don’t believe me then maybe you should at least give me a chance to prove it.”

  She stared at him.

  “Anna, I thought you believed everyone deserves a chance. I recall how you used to say God didn’t care where we came from, only whether or not we allow His love into our lives.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t you still believe it?”

  “Of course I do. I just don’t know if Dorrie should be the one you get to practice on. She needs security and the assurance those she loves will always do what’s best for her.”

  “I’m not going to leave. But you’re right about Dorrie. I don’t want to upset her. She’s obviously happy and well cared for.” And disciplined in a way that was foreign to Colby. “I promise you, I won’t take her away without your complete approval.”

  Anna’s mouth fell open. She shook her head as if to clear her mind. “How can you make such a promise? You’ll grow fond of her and want to take her when you leave. Or you’ll marry—”

  Her words might as well have been edged with razors they cut so deeply. Didn’t she realize he’d only loved one woman in his whole life—her. He hadn’t even loved Nora as he should. They’d married because they were both wanting someone who could share their problems.

  He stopped her before she could go on. “Anna, I am not leaving again. Count on it.”

  A dark, haunted look filled her eyes. “I wish I could.” She turned and fled before he could respond.

  He stared after her for a long time. Truth was he didn’t know what to say…or think. Her words gave him a sort of hopeless hope. As if she might care a bit about him but didn’t want to.

  He finally shook his head and returned to his work.

  The pastor said to pray and so he did. God, I’ve ruined so many things in my life. The good pastor says You will allow me to start over. I fear it’s too late for me and Anna. But if You’re like the pastor says and like I read in the scriptures, maybe You can change things. Make me into what I should be. Give me a chance to win Anna’s love.

  Chapter Seven

  Anna’s thoughts went round and round, buzzing ceaselessly. He promised so much. To stay. To leave Dorrie with her.

  None of it gave her any peace.

  Suppertime approached and there were a hundred different details to attend to but her wayward emotions slowed her actions. She couldn’t seem to catch up. And Alex needed reminding to do his work.

  She found him playing with Dorrie in the front room. “Alex, run and do your chores now.”

  “Aww.”

  She ruffled his hair. “You have to do them so you might as well do them cheerfully.”

  But he scuffed the toes of his boots on the floor as he carried out the ashes. A few minutes later he rushed inside with the bucket of coal. “My chores are done. Can I go help Colby?”

  Wonderful. Now Alex was falling under his spell, as well. He stood to be hurt and disappointed, too. But when had her brother ever been interested in anything to do with work?

  She hesitated. It might do him good. As quickly as the thought came, she amended it. She couldn’t encourage fondness between them. It wasn’t worth the risk. Alex had endured enough losses already. “Maybe you should start your homework.”

  “I can do it after supper.”

  “Why don’t you go outside and find someone to play with?” Persuading him to join in the play with other children was always a challenge. He preferred to stay in his room and read or play with Dorrie. She knew he needed companionship of others but she knew no way of making him seek it.

  He sighed loudly and plunked down at the table. “You don’t want me to go be with Colby.”

  “I guess I don’t.” At his disappointed expression, she felt she should explain. “Alex, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  Alex jutted out his chin. “How’s helping him gonna hurt me?”

  She could think of a hundred different ways, but she didn’t want to get into a discussion when she knew Alex would demand explanations and details she didn’t want to give him. “You just could, that’s all.” She turned away to prepare potatoes for supper.

  “I guess I’ll go outside,” he murmured and dragged himself out the door with all the vigor of a man headed to the gallows.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have quelled his enthusiasm. It would do him good to work with a man for a change.

  Her guilt lasted less than half a minute. She knew she’d done the right thing. Colby claimed to be changed but words came easy. She had no reason to trust him. It could be that about the time people began to count on him he’d toss it all over to disappear without a backward look. No, he had certainly given her no reason to trust him in the past nor in the present.

  Supper was ready. Father, Alex and Colby would soon come in and sit down for the meal. Despite Colby saying he would leave Dorrie with her, she couldn’t still the urge to hide the child. His assurances carried only as much weight as any promise from Colby had.

  But Dorrie was hungry and would certainly fuss if confined to her room. Besides it was her duty to serve the meal. She had no choice but to put Dorrie in her high chair as Colby and Father came in.

  Partway through the meal, Dorrie threw her food on the floor and wailed. “She’s tired,” Anna said, glad of a reason to take her from the table. As she prepared Dorrie for bed, the child fussed uncontrollably. “Poor baby.” Sundays were always hard on her, upsetting her regular routine and Anna often paid for it on Monday. She wrapped Dorrie in her favorite blanket and rocked her until she fell asleep.

  She returned to a kitchen now empty except for the remnants of the meal. Colby had left and Anna let out a heartfelt sigh of relief. Having Dorrie fuss had worked out rather well except for one thing— she was behind in her work. She should have the kitchen cleaned by now and be making sure Alex did his homework. She checked that he worked on his studies before she tackled the kitchen but she didn’t disturb him to get his help with the dishes.

  Finally she finished her chores. Dorrie was asleep. Alex in his room reading. Father had gone to visit. Anna felt the need for some fresh air and stepped into the yard, letting the warm evening wrap around her. A hauntingly, achingly beautiful tune filled the air. One of the hymns they’d sung on Sunday. She tipped her head toward the sound. Drawn by an invisible, melodic thread she followed it across the yard, past the ashes of the fire and in the back door of the church.

  Colby sat on the front pew, his black-clad legs stretched straight out. He cupped his hands to his mouth playing a mouth organ. The sound encircled her. She’d only once before heard one played and that was for bouncy camp tunes. He played hymns, the pace much faster than one would sing, making the words dance through her head in a frenzy of joy.

  He saw her and paused. “Am I bothering you?”

  “No.” She wasn�
��t bothered so much as enticed to hear more. “I never heard you play one of those before.”

  “Something I picked up on my travels. I’m trying to learn the hymns you played.”

  “You’re welcome to borrow one of the hymnals.”

  “Can’t read music. I only hear it.”

  “Play some more.”

  His gaze stayed on her as he lowered his head and played the song that had drawn her over.

  Something fragile as morning mist, soft as Dorrie’s baby skin, hovered just outside her heart, reminding her of what they had once shared—how their hearts had beat to the same music, how their dreams had merged into one, how—

  How he’d left.

  She forced away the earlier feelings even though the action left her feeling lonesome.

  He stopped before the end of the hymn. “I don’t recall the rest.” He shifted his gaze toward the piano. “Would you mind playing it for me so I can learn it?”

  Glad of something rational to do, she took her place on the bench.

  “Play it all so I can be sure I got it right.”

  She began to play. Before she’d played two bars, he joined. She’d never made music with anyone else. Most times she couldn’t even find someone to accompany her when she sang a solo in church. To have someone to share this love flooded her heart with joy and uncovered secret, lonely places she hadn’t even known existed.

  When he faltered, she played the ending over for him. He got it right immediately and sat back, grinning. “Thank you.”

  Her smile filled with pleasure. “I enjoyed it.”

  His gaze searched hers, looking deep into her heart, as if seeing things that had grown and developed since the last time they had been open and honest with each other.

  She let her thoughts grow and expand, knew they filled her eyes even as they filled her heart. She was being more honest with him at this moment than she had been since his return.

  They had often sat in this very building as she practiced the piano. She’d told him how she loved music and hoped someday to play as well as Rose. Shyly she’d shared how the words and music spoke to her.