Dakota December and Dakota Destiny (4 page)

Leave it to a woman not to obey orders.

“Maybe she’s in the other room.” Doc pointed in the direction of the bedroom.

Caleb strode through the parlor, knowing that his search was in vain. The house had that empty smell, even though she couldn’t have been gone long. And Sam hadn’t left that boy’s side since they arrived. Sam took his charges seriously.

“No, nothing.”

“You sure you didn’t dream this woman up?” Doc grinned at his friend but quickly snuffed out the humor. The sheriff’s face made it clear what he thought of the joke.

“How’d she get away so fast?” Caleb rubbed his upper lip. “Sorry to have brought you out. Think I’ll saddle up and follow her. With no one else out on the streets, she’d leave an easy trail.”

“Bring her to my house when you find her. Be better for her there, and for you too. You know those jokers’ll be all over your hide and the women too. Martha and I’ll take care of her ‘til we figure what else to do.”

Why did that suggestion make him want to grit his teeth? Caleb leaned down to scratch the top of Sam’s head. The dog whined and, after a quick finger lick, headed for the back door.

“That’s the way all this started,” Caleb muttered. “You and your need to find a tree.” He turned on his way and waved at the doctor.

“See you soon, I hope.”

As soon as he opened the back door, the dog lit out over the snow as if wolves were on his heels. Over the fence and the drifts, straight on a beeline for the barn.

Caleb knew enough to follow, although the knee-high snow slowed him somewhat. Sam had his gray nose pressed to the crack in the barn door, his tail whipping from side to side. A whine suggested in no uncertain terms that his master ought to pick up his feet a whole lot faster.

“I’m coming. I’m coming.” Sam darted through the crack before Caleb, his shoulder against the door, pushed it full open. In the same moment, he realized there were no horse tracks leaving the barn door. The snow was so packed against the door, it had only been opened enough to let one person in. Just as if he’d left it after milking and caring for the animals. Tracks went in, but no tracks came out.

“Doc! Doc Harmon!” He yelled as loud as he could.

“Coming.”

With that Caleb entered the barn, fear and anger waging a war in his soul. Whatever possessed her to start out like this? She hadn’t appeared daft but now he was beginning to wonder. He blinked in the dimness but didn’t let that slow him down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He leaped forward to catch her as she fell.

“Take care of Henry, please.” Her voice quavered and her eyelids fluttered. “I—I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” Caleb felt like shaking her. How could she be so stubborn as to put herself and her children in such danger? She’d gotten the bridle on her horse and an old saddle blanket in place. A saddle, not his good one, stood on its horn beside the stall post. Was she going to steal it? He shook his head. But of course, she couldn’t reharness the beast.

“How bad is she?” Doc Harmon knelt beside them.

“I don’t know.” Caleb looked around again. Henry huddled in the corner of the stall, clutching the quilt-wrapped baby in his thin arms.

The two were almost invisible in the darkness of the stall. Sam scooted past his master and, after a quick swipe of the boy’s nose, wriggled into the straw beside him. Caleb’s horse snorted and stamped his feet. The cow grunted as she lay down again. Here in the barn all seemed so peaceful, so normal. Except for the woman with the bright spots of fever on skin so pale you’d think you could see right through it.

She moaned softly and turned her head from side to side.

“We better get her to my house where my wife can nurse her. I’d guess she’s ended up with an infection and, traipsing out here to the barn with two young’uns, well, I don’t know. Sometimes you just wonder.” He took her wrist between his thumb and fingers and counted her pulse. “You suppose something frightened her?”

“She was pretty determined to get on the road. Either she is running from something or has someplace pretty important to get to.” Both of the men spoke in the hushed tones of a sick room. The baby whimpered.

Caleb glanced up in time to see Henry clutch the bundle to his chest. “We’re not going to hurt you or your mother, son. You know that.”

“You want I should go get the buggy?” Doc asked directly in Caleb’s ear.

“No, since the horse is bridled, why don’t you mount up? I’ll hand her up to you and I think Henry here can ride behind. I’ll carry Angel.”

“Angel?”

“Well, she was born on Christmas Eve and all. I thought it fittin’.” When Doc didn’t answer, Caleb added. “She said I could name the baby since I helped birth it.” How come he sounded so defensive? Caleb shook his head. “Let’s get a move on, okay?”

Doc answered with a snort and, getting to his feet, threw the saddle over the horse’s back and cinched it in place. By the time he was mounted and the woman secured in his arms, both men were puffing. Even though she didn’t look bigger than a minute, as dead weight she was as cumbersome as a sack of grain.

“Come on now, son. You get up behind here.”

Henry shrank farther into the corner, if that were possible.

“Henry.” At the sharp command, the boy disappeared into the wood.

Caleb rolled his eyes heavenward. Would nothing go right this day?

He sank down on his haunches, one hand on the manger side. “Now, son.” He softened his voice and moved with the slow patience he used when stalking game. “We’re trying to take good care of you and your mother. I won’t hurt you but you have to mind me. Now give Angel to me and I’ll give you a boost up behind Doc Harmon.”

Henry wrapped one arm around the now sitting dog.

“Okay, Sam can go with you.”

“Caleb.” Doc Harmon groaned.

Too late, Caleb remembered Mrs. Harmon didn’t cotton to critters in her house. Oh well, what else? He leaned forward and gently unlocked the grip the boy had on the baby. When she whimpered again, Henry started to draw back but after a sigh that came clear from his boots, he scrambled out into the open.

“Now, I’m going to put you up on the horse behind Doc here. Can you hang on by yourself?” Henry nodded.

The saying was easier than the doing. With the bundled baby in one arm, he picked up Henry with the other and hoisted him up. At that moment Angel let out a yell that made her mother moan and raise her head.

“Where? What?” She started to push away. “My baby?”

“You shoulda thought more of her when you started this hare-brained scheme,” Caleb muttered.

“Hush, now.” Doc spoke firmly using his practiced doctor voice. He explained what they were doing as Caleb took the reins and led the horse over to the door. With a mighty shove, he pushed it open wide enough for the loaded animal to make its way through and turned and closed it when the horse snorted at the wind that had kicked up while they sojourned in the barn. The gray-bellied clouds hung low again, ready to dump another stormy helping.

By the time they reached the doctor’s house, snowflakes no longer drifted down but slanted on the wind. Ice crystals from the earlier storm blew off the drifts and stung Caleb’s face. He had known a second storm would follow on the heels of the first. Something in his bones told him.

Caleb and the doctor looked at each other, their burdens and back to each other.

“I’ll . . .”

“You . . .” They spoke at once.

Caleb shook his head and, dropping the horse’s reins with the hope the animal knew about ground tying, strode up the snow-covered walk and knocked on the door. When Mrs. Harmon answered it, he handed her the baby with a quick explanation and spun back to get the others. He swung Henry to the ground and reached back up for his mother.

“I’m sorry to be such a burden,” Mrs. Carlson whispered when Caleb lifted her down.

“You ain’t no burden at all.” Caleb hefted her up in both arms, chest high and tight against him. He followed his former footsteps to the open door and, swinging sideways to keep from bumping her, made his way down the hall beside a twittering Mrs. Harmon.

“I’ll explain it all later, Martha,” Doc growled. “Let’s just get her to bed quick as possible. You get some of that willow bark tea seeping and this young pup here might like a cookie.”

Sam’s toenails clicked on the wooden floor behind them. “Caleb Stenesrude, you get that dog outta my house. You know I . . .”

“Leave it be, Martha.” The doctor’s tone brooked no argument. He set the boy down and immediately Sam glued himself to Henry’s leg. Tail sweeping the floor, Sam reached up to swipe Henry’s cheek, once and then again for good measure.

Henry appeared to be trying to fade into the dog’s hide. He kept his gaze down so the adults could only see the top of his head.

“Where do you want me to put her?” Caleb called from the hallway.

“Oh, my goodness, in the front bedroom.” Martha clucked her way down the hall.

Doc Harmon stooped down and lifted Henry’s chin with one finger. “Not to worry, son. Your ma will be all right and Mrs. Harmon just don’t like dogs too much. She likes little boys just fine and she’ll get used to Sam here.” He laid one hand on the boy’s shoulder and the other on the dog’s head. “You two go on back to the kitchen and wait there. You might take off your wraps and leave them here on the chair.”

Like a mouse trapped in a feed barrel, Henry’s gaze darted up and down the hall, up to the doctor’s face and down to the dog’s. Doc Harmon waited.

As if of their own accord, Henry’s hands pulled off one mitten and then the other. When they dangled on their crocheted cord, the fingers eased one button out of the hole and then the other. All the time Henry kept his gaze on Doc Harmon.

“There now. I’m going back to take care of your mother. You two will be right fine here.” He paused, gave the boy’s head a pat, and headed down the hall.

Mrs. Carlson, now divested of her outer garments, lay under the patchwork quilt in the four poster bed. Her fingers clutched the edge of the quilt as if a windstorm might steal it from her. Her eyes, fever-bright and frantic, appeared huge in her wan face.

“Where’s my baby?” Her whisper carried to the man standing with his back to the room, looking out the window.

“Mrs. Harmon has her.”

“Caleb, why don’t you go see about that poor horse?” Doc entered the room and crossed immediately to his patient. He dug his stethoscope out of his vest pocket and warmed the metal end in the palm of his hand.

“I’m going to take it home and put it up in the barn.” Caleb pulled a gold watch out of his pocket. “Then I intend to go join in the Christmas service at church.”

“It’s almost half over.” Doc looked at his friend over the edge of his glasses.

“Not if Reverend Moen tries to make up for no sermon last night.” Caleb paused at the door. “Good day to you, ma’am. I surely do hope you feel better soon.” He made his way to the kitchen where he could hear Mrs. Harmon talking to Henry.

“Will he be all right here?”

“Landsakes, a’course he will.” She set a plate of molasses cookies next to the glass of milk that was already half gone.

A white mustache edged Henry’s upper lip. He reached for one of the sugar-topped treats and nibbled on the edge. One hand never left the dog’s ruff.

“And the dog?”

Mrs. Harmon looked from the dog up to the quivering boy and back to the dog. Sam wagged his tail and leaned closer to the child, as if he understood he was on trial. “Oh, pshaw, of course he can stay. I’ll fix him a nice bed out on the back porch and . . .”

The boy flinched as if she had just struck him. A tear started at the corner of his eye.

Mrs. Harmon threw her hands in the air. “All right, he can sleep by the bed.”

A sigh of relief escaped from around another bite of cookie.

“That’ll be all then.” Caleb crossed the linoleum-covered floor to stand by the breakfast nook. “I will be back later this afternoon. You mind Mrs. Harmon and remember to let Sam out for a run when he asks.” The boy nodded.

“You want to come for supper, Sheriff?” Mrs. Harmon asked as he turned to leave.

“Thank you, but I’ve been invited to Gudrun’s. I’ll check back though, like I said.”

The horse stood where they’d left it, snow clinging to its sorry hide and dusting the saddle. “Poor beast.” Caleb brushed the snow off the saddle seat and, gathering the reins, swung aboard. He neck-reined in a circle and started back up the street at a trot.

But Caleb’s thoughts were not so measured. What could have frightened her so much she chose to run—in the face of a blizzard—instead of stay where she and her family were warm and dry?

Who was the woman with the baby? Who was the dead man they’d found by the livery?

As the choir broke into “Angels We Have Heard on High,” Caleb was jerked back to the present. He joined in the hymn but even when he was mouthing the words, his mind remained back at Doc’s house. While he hadn’t planned on entertaining strangers on Christmas Eve, it had happened. Caleb was of the school of thought that nothing happened without a reason. An angel had come into his life. He knew that for sure, he’d named her. But what about that angel’s mother?

He swallowed a gasp. What if she were running from the law? She’d been in such an all-fired hurry to get going again.

When Reverend Moen smiled across his congregation from the pulpit, Caleb had to smile back. Wait ‘til the pastor heard about these goings-on, if he hadn’t already. The sheriff had worked hand in glove with the Lutheran pastor to help some unfortunates, usually without anyone outside being the wiser, in spite of Mrs. Jacobson and her nose for gossip.

The reverend had reminded his congregation of the perils of that deadly sin more than once but it hadn’t seemed to make a difference to certain members of the community.

Caleb looked down the row to the woman in question. Her nose could ferret out the wispiest rumor and she always managed to put her own twist on it before passing the morsel on. She sang on, looking the good Christian praising her Lord on this most holy of days.

“Rejoice for the Savior has come.” Reverend Moen could always be counted on for a real uplifting sermon. “Christ is born, and through Him we are reborn every day.” As the sermon continued, Caleb tried to keep his mind on the pastor’s words. Every time it floated on over to Doc Harmon’s house, Caleb jerked it back. He heard phrases like “entertained angels unawares.” That sent him thinking about the baby he helped bring into the world. No matter what happened with Mrs. Carlson, he would never regret helping Angel take her first breath. That tiny body that fit into his hands had such a strong pair of lungs, he was amazed. He could feel a smile coming on just at the thought of her.

“Jesus came to bring us love. He is love.”

Love all right. He’d felt it burst like a firecracker in his heart when she kicked her tiny feet and flailed those minute hands. Tiny fingers that still managed to wrap themselves around his. Each part of her so perfectly formed. Had Mary felt like this when she held God’s Son for the first time? And what about Joseph? Did he have doubts since he knew the baby in Mary’s arms wasn’t his?

“And now, the blessings of the Almighty God be on and with you all.”

Caleb came back to the hard wooden pew with a start. He rose with the rest of the congregation and bowed his head. While the pastor prayed, Caleb added his own.
Please keep them safe and bring health to the mother. Help Doc help her. And thank You for sending them to my house on Christmas Eve. I’ll never forget it.
He added his “Amen” to that of the others.

Caleb greeted his friends and neighbors, trying to make his way toward Gudrun without seeming to have any goal in mind. Everyone commented on the blizzard and how abruptly it struck.

“Snuck up on us like a hunting cat,” one man said. “And then screamed like a banshee. I told my missus right then there wouldn’t be no Christmas program. You shoulda heard my young’uns. Moaned worse ‘an the wind.”

“Heard there was some poor cuss who didn’t make it through the night,” someone said. “You figured out who he is yet?”

Caleb shook his head. The speed of the community grapevine always caught him by surprise. “Anyone heard of someone missing? All I know, he ain’t from around here.” At their headshakes, he excused himself and caught up with Gudrun and Dag Weinlander and his wife Clara at the door. After the usual greetings, he took Gudrun’s hand and tucked it under his arm.

“Just to make sure you don’t slip on the ice out here.” He smiled down at the fashionably dressed woman beside him. A black felt hat with a curled brim and jaunty red feather hid much of her silver hair worn in its usual bun at the nape of her neck. The mink collar of the black wool coat fit snug up to her ear lobes where pearl earrings nestled. With one gloved hand, she grasped the collar more closely to her slender neck. She straightened shoulders already ramrod stiff and returned stare for stare out of faded blue eyes.

“You’re looking well today.”

“Now, Caleb, you know sweet talking won’t cut the ice with me, but thank you, anyway. What is it that’s on your mind?”

“Can’t I just be neighborly?”

She raised one eyebrow. “Mrs. Hanson baked cinnamon rolls this morning.”

Caleb sighed. “After all the other things she’s been baking? That woman is a treasure.”

“So you’ll come for coffee?”

“As if I needed a bribe.”

Dag Weinlander, owner of the livery and the blacksmith, stopped at her other side. After the greetings, he continued, “Glad you’ll be joining us. I hear we have a bit of news to discuss.”

Keeping a noncommittal look on his face took effort. Why had he immediately thought of Mrs. Carlson? Surely Dag was referring to the dead man. Caleb just nodded. “I will see you shortly then.” He handed Gudrun up into the carriage, tipped his broad-brimmed hat, and headed back up the steps of the church.

The crowd had cleared out faster than normal and there was only one person left talking with Reverend Moen. Caleb waited until the woman moved on, then stepped forward to shake the minister’s hand. “Good sermon, Reverend, as usual.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” The twinkle in the man’s eyes acknowledged his use of titles. “So, how can I help you?”

Caleb checked around to make sure no one else was in earshot. Even at that, he led the pastor back inside the vestibule. “Get you out of that wind.” He took in a deep breath. “I have the most amazing story. You talk about entertaining angels. Well, I got me one last night.”

At the interest on Moen’s face, Caleb told his story. “I’m going to ask Gudrun if they have a place for her, the little family I mean. You s’pose in that big house they have room for a brand-new baby and a little boy who doesn’t talk much? Fact is, I haven’t heard him say a word so far. And the mother? I think she’s mighty afraid of something.” Caleb rubbed his nose and cleared his throat. For a man of few words, he’d kinda been runnin’ off at the mouth lately.

Pastor Moen appeared to be giving the matter some thought. He nodded slowly, his eyes glued on Caleb’s. “Who else knows about your visitors?”

“Well, Elmer noticed ‘em when he came to tell me about the dead body.”

Moen flinched.

“I know, I know. But he kinda caught me by surprise. And the baby, Angel, chose that moment to make her presence known.”

“Angel?”

“Well, Mrs. Carlson said I could name her and I thought that was about the most perfect name, considering the circumstances and all.”

“So what is it you want me to do?”

“Nothing much, I guess. Just wanted you to know the truth of it all, right from the beginning. And people seem to tell you things, so if you hear something I might need to know you could kind of pass it on.”

“You want me to go to Gudrun’s with you?”

“You want some of those cinnamon rolls too?”

“Mrs. Hanson baked cinnamon rolls on top of all the other?” The reverend shook his head. “That woman is indeed a wonder.” He paused. “So, are your visitors all right at your house for a while yet?”

Caleb shook his head. “I didn’t finish my story. She tried to take off this morning and I found her in a heap in my barn. Doc was with me and we took her directly to his house. She was burning up with fever.”

Moen groaned.

“I know, I shoulda got the doctor last night but that blizzard was so bad, I just didn’t dare chance it. And now if she . . .”

Reverend Moen held up a hand, along with an emphatic shake of his head. “No, don’t you start in again, Caleb. There was nothing more you could have done for your wife and family those years ago and I know you did the best you could here and now. How many times do I have to tell you that Jesus came so you wouldn’t have to carry that burden of guilt around any longer? And you don’t need to add to it, neither. You hear me?”

Caleb kept his feet from shuffling through an act of will. He knew the pastor was right but the knowing and the doing weren’t always the same. He didn’t want to count the times they’d had this discussion. Most of the time he was able to agree with the pastor but then something happened like today and he fell back right back in the same old pit. Pastor Moen had worked mighty hard to pull him out of it back those five years ago.

“I’ll let you get on to home then, I know your missus is waiting.”

Caleb reached out and shook Moen’s hand. “Merry Christmas. And thank you.”

“Merry Christmas, Caleb, and you let me know what happens.”

“I will.”

After a brisk walk back to his house, Caleb saddled his horse and headed toward Main Street. All the while his hands did as required, his mind gnawed at the twin bones he’d been given in the last twenty-four hours. Two strangers in his town, one bringing death, the other life. Two mysteries to solve. Sheriff Stenesrude had never liked loose ends.

Something made him turn down the street to Doc Harmon’s before seeing Gudrun.

After a brief greeting, Doc looked up at his guest and shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s milk fever, Caleb, much as I hate to tell you.”