The Cowboy's Baby (12 page)

“And now for the final act of dedication.”

Father’s words made Anna sit up straight. They had gone through the program many times and it was to end now.

Colby plunked Dorrie to Anna’s lap and hurried down the aisle.

She couldn’t imagine where he went in such a hurry, then her attention was diverted by a murmur at the back and she turned to see what caused the disturbance.

Before she could see any cause, uncertain voices began to sing, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.” The song, sung in deep male voices without instrumental accompaniment, drew her attention to the door.

A parade of men entered, a cross over their shoulders.

Anna recognized the men as those who had been in and out of the church the past month. They still wore shabby clothes but their faces glowed as they marched up the aisle carrying the cross. Colby was the last man in line.

She swallowed hard as they stepped to the platform and lowered the cross. They turned it for all to see and she gasped. The original cross, scarred by the fire, formed the center of a new one, blending seamlessly into the new structure.

Colby cleared his throat. “The cross is scarred. As it should be. I don’t think it was a thing of beauty so much as a crude rough instrument of torture on which my Savior died. He died for all of us here. You, me and these men standing with me. Each of us on this stage has found mercy and forgiveness at the foot of an old rugged cross. Not this one. This is only a reminder. But at the cross upon which Jesus died. However, I know some people have found comfort from looking at this reminder of God’s love.”

He glanced at Anna and flashed a quick smile.

She could barely see him through the sheen of tears.

“My hope and prayer is that many more of you will find comfort, mercy and forgiveness at the cross.”

He signaled the men and they hung the cross on the back wall.

“Have you noticed the border?” Colby asked the audience.

Anna scrubbed her eyes so she could see clearly. An intricately carved design formed a beautiful border.

“You can’t see it from where you sit but this border is names, dates and verses. These men have come to the Lord and this is their testimony of salvation.”

He nodded and one by one the men stepped to the cross and touched a place.

“Slink, May 25. ‘For by grace are ye saved.’”

“Tobias, May 26. ‘For God so loved the world.’”

“Luke, June 1. ‘He gave the right to become children of God.’”

By the time all the men said their names and read their verses, tears trickled down Anna’s cheeks. She heard others sniffing and wondered if there could be a dry eye in the place.

Colby went to the cross. “Colby, May 20. ‘If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature.’”

Joy flowed with Anna’s tears. God had changed Colby. She needed no further proof. She gladly, willingly trusted him.

He met her eyes across the space of the platform and smiled.
For you.
She heard the silent words.
He’d done this for her. He’d repaired the cross so she could remember the times she’d found strength. It was a wonderful gift, blessing her and others, as well.

The men paraded back down the aisle. As they passed, many reached out from the pews to shake their hands. Colby followed them out.

Anna had to wait for the others to depart before she could make it outside. She wanted to find Colby but the crowd kept them apart.

Mr. Steves sat in the place of honor. A big slab of birthday cake practically filled the table in front of him. People filed by extending best wishes as they made their way past to secure a place at one of the benches.

She tried to find Colby in the crowd, caught his eyes across the yard before someone stepped into her path. She shifted, searched for him where she’d last seen him but he had moved. She saw him to one side.

He tipped his chin, signaling her to stay there. He headed in her direction, weaving in and out of the people who crowded around for a chance to speak to Mr. Steves.

She stood watching as he closed the distance between them, her joy mounting with every moment. God had graciously answered her prayer.

Colby finally made it to Anna’s side.

She had so much to tell him but didn’t know where to start. “Thank you,” she whispered. “The cross is beautiful.” She meant so much more but couldn’t form a solid thought.

“I’m glad you like it. I hoped you would.”

And then the opportunity passed as the crowd sang “Happy Birthday.”

Miss Weaver had taken over organizing the tea and when Anna went to the table to help serve, the woman shooed her away.

“You go look after that sweet baby.”

So she returned to Colby’s side. They sat down, Dorrie between them as the ladies served cake to each and everyone.

She wanted to say more. Find words to describe what she felt but the crowd hushed as the mayor gave a speech. Other dignitaries spoke and Mr. Steves responded with a gracious thank you but Anna hardly heard as she watched Colby feed Dorrie cake. She was consumed with a love so full, so sweet, so surprisingly powerful she could hardly think as longing rose up within her, a need to belong to him wholly and completely, be with him always, sharing the joys of each day, supporting each other through the hard times.

Her heart seemed to swell with every beat until she felt nothing but the emotion of the moment.

The clapping as Mr. Steves finished his speech
startled her. She scrambled to pull her thoughts back to where they belonged—thinking about her responsibilities—as people pressed in around them, some shaking Colby’s hand, thanking him for the job on the church or the gift of the cross. Others paused to thank Anna for her song, or ask about washing dishes from the tea.

She directed the cleanup. When she looked up, Colby was gone.

A
s Colby followed the men to help set up fireworks he couldn’t stop grinning. Anna had been pleased with how he’d fixed the cross. Her eyes glistened when she thanked him. Her gaze seemed to cling to him, following his every move.

He knew she wanted to say more but there was too much commotion. It would have to wait.

Later, his job done, he found Anna sitting on a bench, Dorrie asleep in her arms. The way she smiled up at him, her eyes laced with gladness and welcome, his heart forgot it was supposed to beat regularly. Instead, it hesitated then pulsed blood through his veins with such force he felt it pound against his eardrum. And welcomed the noise.

He sat close to her, stroking Dorrie’s damp head. “It’s been a big day for her.”

“I’m afraid we’ll pay for it tomorrow. She doesn’t like having her routine changed.”

Her breath, soft and alluring, whispered over his cheek. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around this woman who had stolen his heart, and this baby who was flesh of his flesh, to hold them close forever, take care of them, protect them—could he? Or would he fail?

He shoved the doubts away. Tonight was for celebration and joy. He shifted, leaning one elbow on the table as he faced her. “I’ll help with her.”

The smile in her eyes spoke welcome and home.

Home. What he’d always wanted.

What he dreamed would be possible with sweet Anna and now, as well, his little Dorrie.

They had to talk but not here. Not now when others dashed by or stopped to speak to them. Not with his precious daughter sleeping in Anna’s arms.

The light faded.

“Time for the fireworks,” he murmured.

The sky lit with flashes. Smoke trailed after the light and a deep-throated thunder followed.

The crowd clapped and cheered.

Dorrie wakened, crying and throwing herself backward.

Colby lifted her from Anna’s lap. “Look at the lights. Fireworks.”

Another burst filled the sky and Dorrie stopped crying so suddenly she coughed.

The show went on for twenty minutes, then people began to disperse. Someone had lit lanterns along the street to help the crowd find its way to their buggies and wagons.

Dorrie started to fuss.

“Time for bed,” Anna said.

“I’ll take her in.”

Dorrie was inconsolable by the time they made their way to the house.

Anna reached for her. “She won’t settle when she’s this upset. I’ll have to rock her to sleep.” She smiled at Colby as she bounced the crying child. “Good night.”

He patted Dorrie’s head. He didn’t want to end the day but Dorrie needed her bed and her mama. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded and left him to find his own way out.

He made his way to the shack he’d been sharing with Tobias. As he opened the door a gangly youth rushed toward him.

“Mr. Bloxham. Mr. Bloxham. I been looking all over for you. Got a telegram. Real important.”

Colby rescued the yellow bit of paper the boy waved about and quickly read it. He grunted and scrubbed a hand over his chin.

Tobias watched. “Bad news?”

“I have to go. Take this to Miss Caldwell first thing in the morning.”

Anna fell asleep with her lips curved in a smile. Tomorrow she and Colby would find a time and place to talk. All evening she had turned to him, knowing her eyes brimmed with promise and acceptance. His had responded with such joy she found herself overflowing with laughter. Thankfully others seemed to be in a celebratory mood and didn’t think her actions inappropriate.

Something jerked her from a sound sleep. Her room was dark. She listened, straining to hear any unusual sound.

The sound came again. A choking cry.

Dorrie! Something about the child’s cry sounded terribly wrong.

She raced for the baby’s bedroom but even before she stepped through the door she heard the laborious breathing.

Hurrying, she lit the lamp and bent over the crib. It took only a glance to see Dorrie’s glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. “Poor baby. No wonder you were fussy.”

The first thing she had to do was tackle the fever. No, perhaps she needed to address the breathing first. She raced to the kitchen, threw coal in the stove and put a kettle to boil.

As she waited for it to sing she rushed back to the bedroom, dragged the rocking chair close to the crib and used a sheet to prepare a steam tent. Dorrie would protest but it had to be done.

She raced back for the steaming kettle and a basin that she put on a little stool in front of the chair then picked up Dorrie, moaning at how the little one strained for each breath. She stripped her down to her diaper. She poured the boiling water into the basin, pulled the sheet over them and held Dorrie over the steam.

Sweat soon poured from every pore in Anna’s body but she continued to pour in hot water until the kettle was drained.

As soon as the steam cooled, she returned Dorrie to her bed and hurried to get a basin of tepid water. Frantically she set to sponging the child, praying desperately for the fever to subside, for Dorrie’s lungs to open.

Dawn spilled pink light over the horizon and Anna saw no improvement. Her worry gave way to fear as real and cruel as a fist to her stomach. “Please, God. Take the fever from her. Ease her breathing.”

Alex stumbled sleepy-eyed to the room. “She sick?”

“Yes. Get Father.”

He stared at her still half-asleep.

“Hurry.”

He suddenly came to life and ran down the hall. A few minutes later Father rushed in. “I can hear her breathing from my bedroom.”

She pressed her lips together and struggled to control the sobs tearing at her throat.

Father crossed the room and took her in his arms. “Father in heaven, our Almighty Savior and the Great Physician, please touch Dorrie’s body and free her lungs.”

Anna shuddered. “I’m afraid.”

Father hugged her. “What do you need me to do?”

“Get Colby. He needs to be here.”

“I’ll go right away.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Have faith.” Then he hurried out.

She heard the front door close after him. Colby would soon be here. She had never needed him more or wanted him more desperately.

“Alex, get me a bucket of warm water.” All night she had alternately sponged Dorrie to reduce the fever and steamed her to ease her breathing.

Alex hurried to do her bidding. He hovered at Dorrie’s bedside, his eyes wide, his fear palpable. “She looks so sick. I’m scared.”

“Me, too.” But her efforts were focused on conquering the fever.

A few minutes later she heard the door open
and close. She turned to face Colby, ready to throw herself into his arms. Ready to accept his help and support in fighting for Dorrie’s life.

Father stood there. Alone.

“Where’s Colby?” Something must have detained him.

Father’s expression filled with regret and sorrow. “He’s gone.”

“How long will he be?”

“Anna, he’s gone. Left. I managed to waken Tobias but he was there alone. He said Colby rode out last night.”

Gone. Just like always. And she had trusted him again. Moreover, she and Dorrie needed him. She pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from crying. With great effort she tossed aside her pain and disappointment and turned back to Dorrie. They would manage without him.

She pushed aside the wail that demanded how. How would she survive? Especially if something happened to Dorrie?

She had no one but herself to blame for believing him.

For a moment she fought for control. She’d done this before. She could do it again.

“I’m sorry,” Father said.

“What time is it?”

“Five.”

“Go wake the doctor and tell him he’s needed.”

The doctor came, said to keep on with what she was doing, and left again, promising to stop in later in the day.

Anna wondered how much longer Dorrie could survive her struggle. Nothing but fighting for Dorrie’s life mattered.

She would not think of the pain of Colby leaving again.

The hours slipped by marked by trips to get fresh water, to try and dribble a few drops into Dorrie’s parched mouth, to steam her until Anna felt like a pile of runny mashed potatoes.

She was vaguely aware of others coming and going, bringing her water or towels or a drink for herself and Dorrie. She knew the doctor stopped in again and then night fell and she was alone.

But she would not think.

Not of Colby leaving nor of the possibility of losing Dorrie.

“You have to get better, sweetie,” she urged and redoubled her efforts to fight the fever, get Dorrie’s lungs open.

Morning came unnoticed until Alex and Father slipped into the room, their faces revealing a worry that matched her own.

Again the doctor came by. He shook his head. “If she doesn’t turn around soon…”

Anna gave him a look of disdain. “She will.” She had to.

Father returned some time later. “Miss Weaver is here.”

Grace stepped into the room. “I’m here to help. Now you go rest.”

“I couldn’t. What if…?”

Grace put her arm around Anna. “You must take care of yourself or who will take care of Dorrie when she’s better?”

Anna could have hugged her for saying that and allowed herself to be drawn away. “You’ll waken me if…”

“Trust me. I will get you at any change.”

So weary she could barely take off her shoes, Anna fell to her bed. Colby had said the same words. Trust me.
Oh, Colby, where are you? Why must you leave me every time I need you desperately?

“Anna, wake up. Hurry.” Father shook her.

“Dorrie?” Was it bad news?

She bolted from her bed and almost fell to the floor as her knees turned to pudding. Clinging to Father’s arm she hurried to Dorrie’s room.

Dorrie lay on the narrow cot in the corner of the room so still Anna couldn’t detect any sign of breathing.

Grace sat on a chair at her side, her look so full of sorrow that Anna cried out a protest. Every organ in her body spasmed with incredible pain.

Then Dorrie sucked in a raspy breath, her chest drawing in cruelly as she fought to get air into her lungs.

Anna fell to her knees beside the cot and cradled her arms around Dorrie’s hot little body.

Grace smoothed her hand over Anna’s back. “She’s fighting very hard.”

“She can’t die. She can’t. I won’t let her. God can’t take her from me.” She stopped the words that poured forth.

Father patted her back. “Anna, don’t blame God for our losses.”

“Who can I blame?”

“Death is just part of life.”

She rolled her head back and forth in denial. “Not untimely death.”

Grace pressed a hand to Anna’s head. “Nothing can separate us from God’s love. In the dark times we learn to trust Him most and find His comfort sweetest.”

Father continued to pat her back. “God loves us. We just need to trust Him.”

Anna buried her face in the quilt covering the cot and clamped her lips together. Father would be shocked at the words flooding her mind. But what
kind of loving God took away those she cared about? He could have stopped Colby from leaving. He could have prevented Rose and Timmy from dying. And He could, if He chose, heal Dorrie. Her fists curled into the fabric at Dorrie’s side and she hung on. She would not let this child go. God could not have her. Her teeth clenched so hard it sent a pain straight to the top of her head but she would not let go. Never.

Dorrie shuddered.

Anna’s throat clogged with a rush of emotion. She lifted her head. Tears stung the back of her eyes but she would not let them escape.

Dorrie lay quiet and still. Peaceful even. Was she gone? Hot floodwaters of grief swept through her, grabbing at her heart with vicious fingers, sucking at her limbs as she fought the undercurrent threatening to drown her. She wouldn’t fight anymore. She’d simply let the waters wash her away.

Dorrie coughed.

Anna jumped, startled by the unexpected sound. Was it the last dying response? She placed her hand on Dorrie’s chest.
My baby. My baby. How can I go on without your sweet presence?
She opened her mouth and closed it again and again as if she could pump out her overwhelming sorrow.

The little chest beneath her palm rose and fell.

She stared at her hand. Had she imagined it? No. It rose and fell again. “She’s breathing.” Her words were barely a whisper. “She’s breathing.” Anna jumped to her feet, laughing and crying. “She’s breathing.”

She hugged Father. “She’s breathing.”

Father’s face was wet with tears. “Praise God. Praise God.”

Anna turned to Grace. “She’s breathing. She’s alive.”

Grace, her eyes glittering with tears, hugged Anna. “God has blessed your faith.”

Her faith? She’d had none. Only doubts and anger. Why had she not trusted God? Shame crackled at the edge of her joy.

The doctor came, proclaimed it a wonder that Dorrie had turned a corner toward getting well.

Dorrie was alive. Her breathing rattled but at last filled her lungs.

She lived. Anna’s joy knew no end even though she didn’t deserve it. When she should have trusted, she doubted. But thanks to God, He hadn’t punished her lack of faith.

Dorrie was weak and listless. Anna had her hands full caring for her in the following days and welcomed Grace’s help running the home.

She gratefully cared for Dorrie, finding unlimited patience with her fussiness.

But in the pit of her stomach lay a boulder of guilt. Hadn’t she learned to trust God at a young age? Wasn’t it trust that bore her through those dark days of sorrow when Rose and Timmy died?

Who was she that she could forget God’s faithfulness when she needed it most?

Grace spent a few hours each day helping with meals. She had left for the day with supper in the oven saying she needed to help her sister.

Anna sat at the table holding Dorrie, tenderly spooning warm porridge into her.

The door burst open without so much as a knock and Colby stood with the light behind him.

Anna blinked. “What are you doing here? How long are you around for this time?” She felt no welcome. No gladness. Only a long dark ache. Why did he keep riding in and out of her life? How much more could she take?