Ruth (24 page)

“Dylan,” she said softly, gazing at the little girl in her lap.

“Yes?”

“Could we name her?” She looked up, and her next words tumbled out. “I mean, most folks would expect a baby this old to have a name, and we can’t keep calling her ‘her’ and ‘child’ and ‘baby.’”

Dylan concentrated on his coffee. “I’m sure she has a name, Ruth.”

“Probably, but we don’t know what it is, and she’s too young to tell us.” Warming to the idea, Ruth covered his hand with hers. The simple touch sent ripples of warmth up her arm. “Please, Dylan. Let’s name her.”

The idea seemed to set with him. He smiled and looked at their hands. “What do you have in mind?”

“Rose,” she announced. “Look—her mouth is like a tiny little rosebud.”

Dylan peered at the child. “Rose? That’s sort of frilly, isn’t it? What about Maude? There’s a good, solid woman’s name.”

Ruth shook her head pensively. “She doesn’t look like a Maude.”

“Really?” Dylan studied the baby. “Well, maybe not . . .”

“Rose. Rose Priggish McCall.”

Doubt crossed the marshall’s features. “McCall?”

“Why not? Rose—for her. Priggish—my last name. And McCall—your last name. Whoever takes her will change her name anyway.” Ruth lifted the little girl above her head, the playful action resulting in a cackling drool. “Hello, Miss Rose Priggish McCall. Now you have a name just like the rest of us. In dat
sweet
?” She glanced up, embarrassed. “Isn’t that nice?” she amended in an adult tone.

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed, “dat’s
weal
sweet. Yesitis, yesitis,” he teased. Tickling the baby’s tummy, he stepped back and admired his namesake. “What do you know? I’m a daddy.”

Ruth grinned smugly.
Yeah,
she thought.
And for a short time, I am a mommy.

The snow tapered off by late afternoon. Ruth pulled the lacy parlor curtain back and looked out the front window. She counted twenty-five long, thin icicles hanging from the roof. It was still cold as a banker’s heart and that made the hospitality of Niles and Annabelle even more welcome. She didn’t know when she’d been more comfortable, and the warm bath yesterday made her want a second one soon.

How strange that the long trek into Colorado had awakened in her the realization that simple, everyday things like feeling clean and warm constituted a luxury when one had been without them for a period.

Annabelle bustled into the kitchen carrying a load of linens. She smiled when she saw Ruth. “You got a fine family, Ruth—a real nice husband. Most men wouldn’t function with the marshall’s injuries. But he’s over at the mercantile doing what he can.”

Ruth nodded absently. “He’s a strong man.”

Annabelle stored the sheets in a side drawer of a bureau and closed the door. “Been married long?”

Ruth went silent. She couldn’t lie to the woman; the Seatons had been too good to them, and besides, she wasn’t going to ever lie again. Lying didn’t pay; goodness knows she’d learned that, if nothing else.

“We’re not married, Mrs. Seaton.”

The woman turned, censure mirroring in her eyes.

Ruth hastened to explain the situation and ended by saying, “The marshall is escorting me to Wyoming, where I hope to locate a distant cousin. Mr. McCall has been the embodiment of a gentleman, although at times I’ve been quite a trial to put up with, I’m sure.”

Annabelle nodded. “Don’t surprise me. I can read a man like a book, and I was telling Niles this morning that Dylan McCall is a fine soul.” She paused behind Ruth’s chair to rest her hands on the young woman’s shoulders. “Don’t let him get away, honey. If you’re lucky enough to find a man like McCall in your lifetime, don’t play coy.”

Ruth smiled sadly. “He doesn’t love me, Mrs. Seaton. He’s deeply fond of the baby and he protects me with his life, but he isn’t a man looking to settle down. Not now and most certainly not with a willful, foolish girl who tricked him into taking her to Wyoming, who nearly cost him his life.”

Annabelle’s clasp tightened. “Don’t know about the willful part—you’ll have to answer that—but I’d say there’s nothing foolish about you, my dear. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. It takes a hearty soul to survive in these mountains, and it looks like you and the marshall have pulled it off.” Annabelle left the room, bustling toward the stairway.

Ruth was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of hot tea when the back door opened and Dylan came in. He stamped his feet and wiped his boots on the woven rug inside the door. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Sent my boss a telegram.” He winced as he shrugged out of his coat. “Told him where we are.” He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove.

“Is he angry with you?”

Dylan shrugged and sat down opposite her. “No. Kurt wired me back immediately. He says he knows travel is dangerous right now, but Dreck Parson’s leaving a trail a mile wide. If I don’t get to Utah soon, though, I’m going to be too far behind him to catch him.” His features sobered. “I don’t know if I can let that happen, Ruth.”

She leaned closer, her eyes shadowed with concern. “Of course not—we’ll leave immediately.”

He reached out to cover her hand with his large one. The contact sent an electrical current through her—like lightning on a hot summer day. “I’m torn. I’ve worked hard on the Parson case, and I don’t want to lose Dreck. But I don’t want to endanger you or Rose any further. Can you understand?”

She nodded. “We made it this far, Dylan. I’m not afraid.”

Her concern was much larger than physical danger: Dylan’s inability to accept and trust the Lord. She could never marry a man and be unequally yoked. Of course marriage was the last thing on Dylan’s mind, but the idea had started to crouch in the back of hers—like a hungry lion. How could she walk away from this man? Yet how could she fall in love with a nonbeliever?

“I think you should stay here. You’d be safe—and so would Rose.”

Ruth shook her head. “I’ve already asked. Mrs. Seaton says there isn’t any work for me in town—that even the residents are having a hard time keeping food on the table. If I stayed, the baby and I would surely be a burden—and I’m not willing to impose like that.”

“But the weather, Ruth. It’s not safe. We almost died yesterday. I can’t put you and Rose in danger again.”

She closed her eyes.
Lord, what on earth do I do? There’s nothing for me in Sulphur Springs. How can I just let Dylan walk away?

After a few moments, Dylan said quietly, “I asked around and found out there’s another town not too far from here that’s bigger and more prosperous because there’s gold there. Perhaps you can find work in Deer Lick. And a home for Rose. We can set off as soon as the weather clears and we’re strong enough to travel. I don’t see any other way, Ruth.”

Ruth nodded mutely. As usual, God wasn’t giving her more than the next step of the way. “The weather will break—you’ll see. And if I can’t find work in the next town . . . I might just follow you all the way to Wyoming, Marshall McCall.”

Dylan grinned. “I just can’t seem to get rid of you, can I?” They gazed at each other for a moment. What was that she saw in his eyes?

Dylan broke contact and glanced over her shoulder. “Where’s Rose?”

“Asleep.” Ruth stretched like a lazy cat. “I wanted to just sit and enjoy a cup of tea. Is that silly?”

He smiled, and it hit her anew how wonderful he really was. Dylan McCall was an attractive man, even with his flaws. He was stubborn and single-minded, but he could be caring too. He had made sure nothing happened to her on the trail even though she thought she was alone. The whole time, Dylan had her in his scope much like God kept her in his sights. That suggested a man who cared, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“No, that’s not silly,” he said. “But I’m concerned about you, if you travel on with me any farther. We have a chance to end this right now with your reputation still intact.”

She bit her lower lip. “We both know that nothing indecent is going on. I’ll dress like a boy again. We can go into town separately.” Her gaze met his. “I can’t stay here, Dylan. I don’t know whether God has something for me in Deer Lick or in Wyoming, but I do know I want to move on with you. Please, Dylan.”

Dylan sighed. “I know you, Ruth. If you have a mind to follow me, I wouldn’t be able to stop you. I don’t think I can take the strain.” He grinned. “All right. We’ll set off in a day or two, as soon as we’re rested up.”

She nodded and changed the subject. “Did you have Mrs. Fallaby look at your injuries again?”

“Not yet. I was over at the mercantile. I’ll start on the shelves soon.”

“Be careful—”

“—you still have infection,” he finished for her. He took a drink of scalding coffee. “If you’re set on worrying, worry about yourself. How are those feet?”

She glanced down at her toes encased in the soft slippers Annabelle Seaton had supplied. The blisters were better—much better now that she could stay off her feet. “They’ll be as good as new in a few days. And you’re the sickest.” She reached to lay the backs of her fingers against his face. “I would wager that you’ve got a fever right now.”

He seemed comfortable with her touch. Embarrassed, she felt her cheeks warm. What was she thinking? He could take care of himself, except that she wanted to take care of him so badly it hurt. But the marshall wouldn’t want that. He was a solitary man; he’d made that clear.

Ruth got up from the table and busied herself at the counter. “Perhaps before we go, we can ask around and see who can take . . . who would want Rose.” Giving an Indian baby away wouldn’t be easy. There was a lot of prejudice in the world.

“I mentioned that to Annabelle. She said she would ask around. There’s a specific couple who might be interested in taking her,” Dylan informed her.

“Oh,” Ruth said faintly.
It’s the right thing,
she told herself.
The only fair solution for what’s best for Rose.

When the door opened again, ushering in another burst of cold air, they both looked up.

“Well, well, you two look better,” Niles boomed.

After he unwound his bright red muffler, he pulled off his gloves and jammed them into his coat pocket. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a peg.

“It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep and a bath will do for a man,” Dylan said.

“Saw Gert a minute ago. Said for you to come on down and let her look at those arrow wounds again.”

Dylan got up and set his cup in the sink, then began putting on his coat. Noting the difficulty he was having, Ruth went over and helped him, though the marshall looked a little self-conscious about needing help.

“Want me to go with you?” Ruth offered.

“No,” he said, “you stay with Rose.”

“Oh, th’ missus said she’d already talked to the Carsons about taking Rose. They thought they might like to consider it,” Niles said.

“Oh,” Ruth managed, “that’s good. Your wife hadn’t mentioned the Carsons earlier—I’ll talk to Mrs. Seaton about it later. She said she was going to the church.”

“Yes, decorating for a wedding, you know. Nice young couple. Known them all their lives.”

Apparently Annabelle Seaton was a pillar of the community in spite of her quietness. Of course, it wasn’t every day three frozen strangers materialized out of a snowstorm. This morning Annabelle was as friendly as Ruth could have asked.

“Yes, she told me,” Ruth said to Niles.

She felt distracted, as if she couldn’t concentrate properly, and she didn’t know why. Rose needed a home. A real home. And if Annabelle had found a good family, well, that was good.

Dylan opened the door. “I’ll be back later.”

“Yes,” Ruth said absently. “Have Gert make sure you have no infection.”

He gave her a tolerant grin. “I’ll do that.”

As the door closed, Ruth heard Rose start to awaken. She hurried out of the kitchen to see about her. Annabelle had pulled out a spare drawer to make a bed for the baby and promised to look for a more appropriate crib today. Ruth was afraid Rose would crawl out of the cramped space.

Rose had a wet diaper, so Ruth quickly changed her, grateful that Annabelle had provided the luxury of diapers. She hugged Rose close, enjoying the baby’s clean scent. Her heart ached. Rose needed parents—real parents—but Ruth was going to miss holding her little body close.

“I bet you’d like some milk,” she murmured.

Since they’d reached Sulphur Springs, Rose wanted to eat all the time.

“Making up for all those weeks when you had so little, are you?” Ruth said softly. She laughed when Rose gurgled happily, but guilt assailed her. When they moved on, would the baby go hungry again—and cold? Ruth sat at the kitchen table, holding the cup, avoiding Rose’s efforts to grab it. Soon the little girl settled down and drank the milk.

“Oh, Ruth,” Annabelle said as she came in later, her cheeks rosy. “I forgot to tell you. I found a couple who might like to have Rose.”

Ruth knew she should be elated, but she just felt empty.

“The Carsons. Henry and Clara have no children. They’re about . . . well . . . forty, perhaps. It’s so hard to tell,” Annabelle finished, reaching to brush a work-worn hand across Rose’s hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child who enjoyed milk so much,” she said. “It’s good to see her contented.”