The Cowboy's Baby (10 page)

A couple of the women nodded. Mrs. Percy knew to say anything more would make her seem unchristian but Anna understood she wasn’t convinced.

Neither was Anna. Not that she didn’t trust that God could change people, but she wasn’t about to risk everything until she saw undeniable evidence Colby had changed. After all, he couldn’t even say what made him leave, so how could he be certain it wouldn’t happen again? And if he left once more, would he take more than her heart if she gave it to him?

Would he take Dorrie?

She had to clench her hands together to still the pain accompanying the thought.

Mrs. Percy found another bone to gnaw. “What about the cross? I assume a new one will be ready in time for the celebration.”

Anna pulled her thoughts back to the demands
of the moment and nodded. “Father is taking care of it.” When she asked, Father assured her he and Colby had it in hand. She was not privy to their conversations, so had no idea exactly what was being done. But she trusted that if Father said it would be done, it would.

S
upper was over and the pastor had gone to the front room. That left Colby alone in the kitchen with Anna. Now was his chance. He would take care of this business of composing a letter to Hugh. “I want to write to a friend and wondered if I could get a piece of paper from you.”

“Of course.” She slipped into the front room and returned with a sheet of paper and a pencil. “You’re welcome to sit at the table to write.”

He accepted her offer and licked the end of the pencil then bent over the page. As always the words refused to form in his mind so he could put them to paper. He should start with “dear sheriff” but was it
der?
No that wasn’t right.
Deer, dere?
He sighed. The only thing he knew for certain was it started with
D
. He bent over the paper and laboriously
made the first letter. He paused, leaned back, tried to remember how to spell the word. Nothing came. How would he manage
sheriff
when he couldn’t spell
dear?

The pencil snapped between his fingers. Guilt at destroying the precious instrument crashed with frustration. “I’m sorry,” he muttered at Anna’s surprised glance, meaning the broken pencil.

“It’s not a problem.”

He bent his head, wishing she would look elsewhere. He didn’t want her to see his inability to write a simple letter. He read passably well, had managed to hide the fact from both Rose and Anna that he had trouble writing. How would she react?

His old man had jeered and called him stupid.

Only now did he realize the hurtful words came from a man who signed his name with an
X
.

Somehow the knowing should have made him feel better about being able to do more.

But it didn’t.

Anna moved closer.

He felt her stop at his side. Knew she studied the page. She’d have to be blind to not see the crudely made letter and stupid not to realize his difficulty. She was neither.

“Do you need some help?” Her quiet voice seemed to carry no opinion.

“I don’t write very good.” His throat clenched
around the words allowing each to escape as a tight croak.

“I can write for you…unless you don’t want me to know what your letter says.”

His relief was so palpable he wondered it didn’t plop to the table quivering like warm pudding. “Nothing private about it at all.” He shoved the paper and sharpened bit of pencil toward her.

She pulled out a chair and sat at his elbow. So close he could smell bits of cinnamon and basil, and the clean fragrance of her soap.

He shifted, rested his arm on the back of her chair, barely an inch from touching her.

She bent over the paper, exposing the pearly white of her slender neck. “You dictate and I’ll write.”

He struggled to remember what he wanted to say. Her nearness made it impossible to think. He loved her. Plain and simple. He continued to pray she would give him another chance to prove himself worthy of her love.

She turned toward him. “Colby, what did you want me to write?”

Her eyes filled with golden color that came from streaks of light brown alternating with darker brown. Her lips parted in surprise at the way he stared at her and she looked expectant as if she wanted more from him. Like a kiss? How he ached
to kiss her, but he dare not until he knew she would welcome him with a heart of trust.

It took every scrap of his mental strength to pull his gaze from hers and stare at the page.

She jerked her attention the same direction.

He removed his arm from the chair back and planted his hands firmly on his knee. “I’m trying to find a friend.” He could barely grate the words out. “But I don’t know where he is.” The tightness in his throat relaxed as he thought about Hugh. “I’m going to write a sheriff on the off chance that might locate him.”

She nodded, her head bent over the paper.

“Dear Sheriff,” he began. “My name is Colby Bloxham. You might have heard of me in the past. I am no longer that man. I am now a good, God-fearing man.” He paused. “Just put ‘a God-fearing man.’” He didn’t know if anyone would call him good. Not yet. He waited until she erased the word then continued dictating. “I’m looking for my friend Hugh Mackenzie. Is there any chance you have heard of him? If so, could you let him know Colby wants to hear from him? He can contact me at Steveville, Dakota Territory.” He spoke slowly as Anna wrote the words, amazed at how quickly the beautiful script appeared at her hands.

“That’s about it I guess.”

She put the pencil down and leaned back. Her shoulder brushed his.

He steeled himself to keep from wrapping his arms around her and pressing her to his chest where she would surely feel the demanding beat of his heart.

She pushed back. “I’ll get an envelope.”

It took concentrated effort to force air into his lungs. He held it there waiting for sanity and reality to replace the trembling of his thoughts.

She returned and stood across the table from him. “How shall I address it?”

He’d thought it through and decided on the most likely place. “The Sheriff, Lead, Dakota Territory. He went looking for gold.”

She wrote the words on the envelope then handed it to him.

He folded the letter neatly, tucked it inside and sealed the flap. “Thank you. I’ll mail it tomorrow.”

She smiled, something warm and understanding in her gaze. “Glad to help and I hope you find your friend.” She ducked her head and when she looked at him again he saw uncertainty in her eyes.

His blood felt thick as it pushed through his veins. He did not want to hear again how she couldn’t get over him leaving in the past, so he headed for the door. He paused only long enough to thank her again then chased his regrets outside.

Anna stared after him, her mind in a whirl. Since the ladies had left, Miss Weaver’s words had haunted her. Was God changing him? Could she trust God? Yes. But Colby…

Not, she knew, without evidence.

And how she longed to see that evidence and be able to recapture the sweet bonds they had once shared.

Lord, help us regain the trust and closeness we once had. Now, if it be Your will, please show me if it’s safe to trust him.

The next day was busier than usual. Dorrie got into a hundred things before the day was an hour old and from there she gained steam.

In her haste to catch up, Anna sloshed the dishwater and ended up washing the floor unexpectedly.

Little annoyances built one on another.

She paused as a bout of tears threatened. Why was she letting things bother her?

She knew the answer. Because she cared for Colby. He’d laid claim to a great portion of her heart. She’d only been sixteen when he left and yet he continually filled her hopes and dreams for the future. How she ached for the closeness of the past.

How foolish her thoughts…to want the very thing that could destroy her. With great effort she
pushed stubborn resolve into her heart. She could not allow him to hurt her again.

The day sped past. Alex came home from school and slipped out to do his chores.

Out the window, she watched Alex and Colby talking. Alex leaned over as if waiting for a signal to run. Colby leaned over, too, planting splayed fingers on the ground. He must be showing Alex how to start a race.

She smiled and tucked away this little picture of just what a good man Colby was.

As she watched, she mixed up cake batter. She turned to put more coal in the stove to keep the oven at an even temperature. The coal bucket was empty. One of Alex’s chores was to fill it. Anna sighed. He might want to run but when it came to chores he was slower than a spring thaw. She grabbed the bucket and headed to the shed.

Colby was right about one thing. She coddled Alex. He needed to grow up and accept the few responsibilities he had. She must speak to him.

Colby and Alex came in for supper a little later, both of them grinning with eagerness.

“Colby says I’m a good runner.”

“You’ve got potential. A little practice and perseverance and you’ll do fine.” The smile Colby sent Anna’s direction melted away a great deal of the day’s tension. It was good to have him here. His
presence seemed to give each moment a slice of calmness. She wished he could stay longer, share a few more hours but he spent his nights elsewhere. And tonight when she relished every minute, he left early, saying he expected Slink and a few others to stop by.

As soon as he left, she forced herself to deal with Alex. “What about your chores after school?”

A guilty look flitted across his face. “Forgot,” he mumbled.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you all the time. You’re old enough to be responsible. For the next two days, you’re confined to your bedroom after school.”

“That’s not fair,” he yelled. “It’s just a bucket of coal.”

Dorrie’s eyes grew big. She looked from Anna to Alex, her little mouth round with concern. Anna patted her hand, silently assuring her.

“It’s your job. I have enough to do.”

“It’s sissy work. I’m too old for it. Besides, Colby is training me to run.”

“You can train again after you’ve spent some time in your room. Hopefully it will help you remember your responsibilities in the future.”

He pushed back so hard his chair fell with a clatter. “Stop treating me like a baby.” He rushed to his room.

Dorrie whimpered.

“It’s okay, sweetie.” But it wasn’t. Her whole life frayed apart before her eyes. She wanted it back, neat and orderly. She didn’t want things to change, especially this way.

Alex should have helped with dishes but she didn’t want to deal with his anger, so she did them alone, even though she realized it probably defeated the purpose of confining him to his room in the hopes he’d learn responsibility.

By the time she got Dorrie in bed, Anna wanted nothing more than to lie down and cry. Knowing that served no purpose, she did what she learned to do throughout previous times of trial. She headed to the church to pray, pausing at the door to make sure Colby’s friends had departed. Hearing no sound, she crept in through the front door. Colby sat in a pew near the front, his head bent as if reading.

She didn’t want to attract his attention, needed to think about him without his presence invading her thoughts so she tiptoed into the cloakroom. She needed to sit in front of the cross and find peace. She stopped in the middle of the tiny room and blinked.

The cross was gone.

The frustrations of the day boiled over, filling her with despair-laced anger. She spun around and stomped into the sanctuary.

Colby, hearing her, turned to face her.

“It’s gone. One of your friends must have taken it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The cross. Where is it?” The enormity of her loss sucked the strength from her knees and she sank to the nearest pew. Her anger melted into sorrow. A sob caught in her throat where she trapped it. Her reaction left her feeling foolish and vulnerable.

“It’s safe.”

“Where is it? Who’s taken it?”

“Trust me.”

The words mocked her, drove spikes through her thoughts. Trust? The one thing she wanted to do but seemed unable to. She’d even prayed for a chance to test it. Was this an opportunity?

Memories assailed her. She could barely remember her mother except for a fleeting picture of her in a beautiful steel-blue dress and a feathered hat, bending over Anna to kiss her cheek. The whiff of flower-scented toilet water.

But she could never forget the wagon flipping over, the incredible agony of learning to live without Rose, of having to clean out Timmy’s belongings. The sob she’d held back escaped in a gentle wail. “It hurts so much to lose the people you love. I think it would be easier to never care about people.”

Praying at the cross had held her together through it all. She sucked in air, forcing back sobs she feared would tear her apart if she let them out. “I want the cross back.”

“You’ll get it. Trust me.” His words sounded like a promise. He sat beside her and tucked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Not everyone leaves. And whatever you face, God will never leave you.”

She searched his eyes, found an undeniable strength there. She let his promise, his strength reach deep into her being and filter into the dusty chambers she’d kept locked for years. The doors cracked open and she discovered that his smile had cleansed the room. He reminded her of where she got her strength—God, and he offered what she wanted and needed—his promise, his presence. She had only to take one small step into her fears to get it all.

His eyes filled with soft evening light. “I won’t disappoint you.”

She considered all he asked, measured it against what she had to lose. If it was only the cross, she could bear it. It was only a symbol of God’s love and grace, which flowed freely without need of a damaged piece of wood.

But her heart…that was something else entirely.

She couldn’t risk breaking it again. Doubted she would survive another time of loving and losing.
Firmly she shoved the doors to the secret, dark places closed.

“I’m sure whatever you and Father decide will suit.” She returned to the house, her insides more knotted than when she left, not from external stresses but from her inner turmoil.

Colby’s chest muscles didn’t release their vice-like tension until Anna slipped out the door and crossed the yard, her steps firm, her shoulders back, her spine rigid. Not until she entered the house did his thoughts spring into action.

She would trust her father, but refused to trust him. Not that he could blame her but his whole heart and soul longed for her love and trust.

Would she ever give it?

Would he ever be worthy of it?

He collapsed on the pew and buried his head in his hands. How could he prove he was different?
Lord God, show me a way.

A few minutes later he left the church. With God’s help he would not disappoint her again.

The next week was extremely busy with the day of the big celebration approaching. He pushed to get the final touches done to the repairs and enlisted the help of several of his friends. He also involved them with his plans for the cross.