Walker's Wedding (26 page)

S
arah clung to the wagon side as S.H. maneuvered the buckboard around potholes.

“Sorry! I don't want to jar the baby too much, hon,” he said, frowning with concentration.

“You can go faster. You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine.” She was better than fine. For the past few weeks, she and Walker had actually carried on a conversation at the breakfast table.

“Best quit that squirming,” Flo warned, winking at S.H. “You'll have the baby spittin' up.”

“Spitting up?” Sarah glanced at her skeptically. “It can do that?”

Flo and S.H. laughed, and Sarah realized she'd fallen for a joke.

Twenty minutes later, S.H. wheeled the wagon to a stop in front of the mercantile. Doc's office was on the opposite side of the street.

S.H. tied the mare to the hitching post and then extended Sarah a helping hand. Climbing down was troublesome now that she had gained weight and girth. Flo said she already looked as though she were carrying a watermelon, even though she was not long into her pregnancy. There was a hint of snow this morning, and Sarah sucked in the crisp air, enjoying the smells of approaching winter.

“Careful, little mama,” Flo warned as S.H. carefully lowered her to the ground.

S.H. groaned with effort while she found safe footing. “What're ya havin', a heifer?”

“Sizemore! You don't say that to a woman!” Flo snapped.

“Aw, she knows I'm jest teasin'.” S.H. winked at Sarah before turning to help Flo out of the wagon. Flo's joints were giving her fits, and though she never complained, Sarah noticed that she winced in pain this morning. How long would Flo be able to help care for a child? She was nearly as old as Wadsy. Wadsy always said, “God shore knew what he was a-doin' when he gave little folk to the young. A body my age is too old to be running after young'uns.”

“I'll be getting supplies,” Flo said. “S.H. can help you across the street.”

“I know how to cross a street,” Sarah protested. “I can still do some things by myself, you know.”

“I'm goin' with ya and that's that,” S.H. said. “You might trip and fall.”

“S.H., I'm not an invalid. I'm having a baby.”

“Yes, ma'am, I know it. Walker's baby, and he'd expect me to look after ya.”

“I'm not going to get hurt. You can stand right here and watch me. You'd think you were my papa, the way you fret over me.”

Lifting her skirts, Sarah glanced both ways for S.H.'s benefit. A driverless wagon sat at the end of the street. No imminent dangers awaited her. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

“Watch yerself. Look both ways! Don't walk too fast!” S.H. hollered. Sarah turned and waved him
off.

Flo disappeared into the mercantile and S.H. joined a group of friends farther up the sidewalk. If S.H. and Flo had their way, they'd keep her in a glass box for the remainder of the pregnancy. Rarely a day went by that Flo wasn't coddling her with blueberry muffins or hot tea or a pillow for her feet. When her back ached, S.H. was there with a hot compress. She accepted their pampering with a smile, grateful for the affection. If only Walker would show the same concern—

Sarah looked up when a shout broke through her thoughts.

Warnings sounded, and before she could gather her wits, someone grabbed her arm and jerked her clear of the buckboard, the wheels brushing the hems of her skirts. Someone seemingly appeared out of nowhere to sweep her up onto the porch and out of danger.

“Get the doctor!” The male voice sounded familiar, yet in her confusion Sarah couldn't place it. The street tilted lopsidedly, and from a distance she saw S.H. sprinting across the street. She looked up to identify her rescuer and saw Caleb.

Flo bolted out of the mercantile, yelling, “Sarah! Oh, land sakes, are you all right? I knew we should have stayed with you!” The housekeeper approached and reached for her hand.

The excitement drew a crowd. Men stepped to the door of the saloon; women pulled small children across the street. She could hear Caleb calmly assuring the onlookers that everything was fine and asking them to stand back. He turned to her. “Can you sit up?”

Nodding, she allowed the banker to lift her upright. Caleb felt her pulse with cold precision. Of all the men in town, why did
he
have to be her knight in shining armor?

Brushing his hands aside, she straightened her blouse, embarrassed by all the fuss. “I'm fine, really.”

Caleb smiled, but the effort didn't quite reach his eyes. “That was a close call, my dear. You have to be more careful.” The smile widened. “You could have been killed.”

“I'm always careful, Caleb.” She stood up, her legs wobbly beneath her.

Doc Linder rushed across the street, his long strides eating up the ground. After a cursory examination, he straightened.

“S.H., we'll need to get her over to the office. I want to check the baby and make sure she's suffered no ill effects from all the excitement.”

“Shore thing, Doc.”

Caleb and S.H. escorted the expectant mother across the street and into the doctor's office. Excusing himself, Caleb then left, saying he had a customer waiting for him.

Doc took Sarah into the exam room and put the stethoscope to
her stomach. Drawing a deep breath, she closed her eyes, praying the baby was fine.

He listened, stepped back, frowned, and moved forward to listen again. Sarah shrank against the table. The doctor moved the stethoscope back and forth across her protruding stomach.

“Is something wrong with my baby?”

“No, no, the baby's fine.” He listened again, frowning. “But there's a lot going on in there.”

“What do you mean?” Sarah's head came off the table. “Something awful?”

The doctor picked up Sarah's chart, his eyes scanning the information. “Not awful. Hmm.” He placed the stethoscope on her abdomen again.

Sarah waited, holding her breath.

“Well, with this weight gain, I'd say twins are a definite possibility.”

Sarah's jaw dropped. Her heart hammered so loud the doctor drew his instrument back. Two babies? Papa and Wadsy would just spit! “Are you sure?”

The doctor lifted her to a sitting position. “No, I can't say for certain, but it seems to me I hear two heartbeats. Now, I wouldn't get excited about it yet. Sometimes stressful situations can make a baby's heartbeat irregular, and that's what I could be hearing. Everything else checks out okay. Still, you need to be careful for a few days and pamper yourself a little.”

“Doc, may I tell Walker about the twins?”

“No need to count your chickens before they hatch.” Doc Linder patted her on the back. “We wouldn't want to get his hopes up only to disappoint him, would we?”

Sarah felt deflated. “No, we wouldn't.” But he hadn't bargained on two heirs.

Doc ushered her to the waiting room, where S.H. and Flo were sitting. Flo shot to her feet. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything's fine.” The doctor winked at Sarah. “You'll need to take special care of this little lady for the next few days. Make sure she gets lots of rest.”

“We'll do it,” S.H. declared, reaching for Sarah's hand. “I told you that you ought to let me help you across the street.”

“What difference would that have made?” Sarah said. “We both might have been killed.”

The three left the doctor's office and returned to the wagon. Due to all the excitement, the wagon was only partially loaded with supplies.

“Aren't you going to finish your shopping?” Sarah asked Flo.

“Heavens, no! We're going to get you home. I'll ask Denzil to send the rest with Caleb when he comes to supper tomorrow night.”

Sarah glanced toward the bank and saw Caleb leaning against a post, watching her. His earlier warning rang in her ears.
You might have been killed.

Was he responsible for the near fatality? The thought seemed preposterous, yet the wagon had come out of nowhere. She thought of his icy smile the last time he'd been at the house and it chilled her, as if warning her not to cross him.

“Why is Caleb coming to supper tomorrow night? He eats dinner with Walker twice a month.”

“I don't know. I mentioned I was fixing roast and he kinda invited himself.”

Sarah met the accountant's eyes. “I think he just tried to kill me.”

“Kill you!” Flo stared at her. “What a thing to say. Why, he saved your life, young'un. Why would he pull you out of the way if he were trying to kill you? That's ridiculous. Caleb wouldn't hurt a fly.”

Maybe not,
Sarah thought. Perhaps her imagination was working overtime, but the man disturbed her.

S.H. hoisted Sarah into the buckboard and Flo climbed up behind. They settled in for the drive home, and as the buckboard passed the bank, Sarah glanced at Flo. “I don't want him at the ranch tomorrow.”

“Mercy! I think that little scare addled yer brain.”

Sarah settled back on the seat, adjusting her skirts. “Caleb resents me, Flo. Why, I don't know, but he does and I'm afraid of him.”

Shortly after arriving back at the ranch, Sarah excused herself. “I think I'll lie down for a while.”

Relief crossed Flo's features. “You do that, young'un. I'll bring up a tray of tea in a bit.”

Sarah went to her room and stretched out on the bed, but sleep eluded her. She didn't know how she would sit at the supper table tomorrow night with Caleb Vanhooser and not find fault with him.

Rolling onto her side, she cupped her stomach tightly. “It's true, babies. Caleb is not your father's friend. I may anger him so that Walker will never forgive me, but I'm going to prove my suspicions.” When a soft knock sounded a few moments later, she called softly, “Come in, Flo.”

She slipped out of bed as the door opened. Releasing her hairpins, she freed the long strands of fiery tresses.

“While you're here, could you help me with my—” She turned to see Walker standing at the foot of the bed holding a tray. His eyes clearly appreciated her.

“Flo thought you might need a cup of tea.”

“Oh—thank you. That was thoughtful of her.” Sarah watched him place the tray on the bedside table, his eyes drawn to her.

“Care to share a cup with me?” she ventured.

“Thanks.” He pulled up a chair and sat down.

“I wasn't sure I'd join you for supper tonight,” she said.

“Why not?” Their eyes met and held.

“I'm not hungry. It's been a big day.”

Did he know about the accident? Had S.H. told him of her newest charge against Caleb?

Their eyes met again. Then, lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed her fingertips. Sarah shivered, closing her eyes. He was slowly coming around to the old Walker.

“S.H. said there was an incident in town this morning?”

“A wagon almost ran me down—”

Concern lit his eyes. “But you're fine? No ill effects?”

“None. As a matter of fact…” She paused, tempted to mention Doc's suspicions. How would he feel about twins? Better to wait. “He or she is perfectly healthy.”

As if to prove the declaration, one of the babies put a foot into her rib. “Oh.” Sarah laughed, holding her breath. A baby lay against her diaphragm, making it difficult to breathe.

Walker frowned. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. The baby just kicked, that's all.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, cradling her stomach. “Do you want to feel?”

“Feel what?”

“Your son—or daughter.” She was pleased by his interest. She often wondered if he had feelings for the child—or children. She'd caught him looking at her stomach sometimes as if he felt fatherly pride. Did he feel anything other than relief that she was carrying his heir?

She reached for his hand and placed it on her stomach. “Here.”

He examined the rounded stomach much as he had Diamond's when she'd foaled. The baby responded to the gentle pressure. A slow smile spread across his face and warmth flooded Sarah. His hand tenderly explored the new life, the pressure of his touch comforting.