A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise (22 page)

“Soon as it’s safe, we’ll stop and let you out,” said Mr. MacDougal quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

When the woman spoke, Ernie could almost hear a laugh in her voice. Had his ma ever sounded like that? He would never know as he’d killed her by being born.

“I hired a boy to help with the chores.”

“But—”

“He can do chores a he—heck of a lot better than you. If you have more time, maybe you’ll learn how to cook.” The missus sputtered. She was suddenly silent for a minute then sighed. When Mr. Ross spoke again, he sounded like he had a frog in his throat. “We’ll have more time to work the ranch. It’ll be good to have a man around to see to you when we’re away.”

Ernie stopped himself in time when Mr. Ross called him a man. He’d almost inhaled deep. The dirt and straw dust from the blanket would have started him coughing and choking. They’d know he listened in on their private conversation and toss him out of the wagon.

“I’ll have you know, Mr. MacDougal, that I can cook just fine!”

She spoke so uppity that Ernie winced, waiting for the slap and cry of pain. Any woman or child talking back got hit. Men got punched or shot.

“Your biscuits are getting a mite better, but I didn’t marry you to get a cook.”

Mr. MacDougal didn’t sound angry. Ernie heard quiet murmurs and…kissing? He gulped. Too bad he couldn’t close his ears like he could his eyes.

Finally, Mrs. MacDougal cleared her throat. “I
do
have more than one talent. I know how to draw, though I need more practice, and—”

“That’s not what I want to practice with you, wife.”

She laughed at his growled reply. Ernie wasn’t sure why, but hearing that laugh made him wish his mother had lived. Maybe then his father wouldn’t be so mean.

It was another half hour before the wagon stopped. His right shoulder and hip were sore from being knocked against the wooden boards of the wagon, and half his body felt cramped. The light packages were lifted off, but he still waited.

“Don’t move,” growled a deep voice.

He heard a ripping sound. Sunlight poured down between the slices of thick blanket. Mr. MacDougal stood over him holding a large knife in his hand. Ernie blinked in the light. The big man smiled, and Ernie tensed. He knew men who did that right before they attacked. But Mr. MacDougal winked, twirled the knife, and made it disappear. When he held out his hand, Ernie grabbed for it. A strong grip lifted him high and set him on top of his temporary hiding spot. He gulped fresh air, shuddering in relief.

“This is Mrs. MacDougal. You’ll call me Mr. Ross. What’s your name, boy?”

“Ernie Thompson.”

“I think it best you get a new name. That way, we won’t forget and use it in town and find your pa showing up one day, stomping mad.”

“I’ve always like the name Daniel,” said Mrs. MacDougal.

“That’s a pretty powerful name,” said Ross. “You up to fighting off lions like in the Bible story? They don’t have shaggy manes in these mountains, but they’ll kill you just the same.”

“Don’t know Bible stories, but I’ll fight lions and rattlers and anything else, sir.”

Ross pointed to the bags of beans. “Take a seat. Amelia, where’s that lunch basket Mrs. McLeod sent? I think Daniel could use some breakfast.” Mrs. MacDougal leaned under the seat. Mr. Ross tilted his head and watched her. When she began to straighten up, he winked. “How old are you, Daniel?”

“Ten, sir.” Both adults raised their eyebrows. “I’m small for my age. I don’t eat much.”

“You will now,” said Mrs. MacDougal.

She pointed to a wicker basket covered with a red-and-white-checked cloth. Mr. Ross opened it up and looked inside. He lifted out a white cloth, the corners tied over something inside, and handed it to Daniel. “Some hard-boiled eggs ought to keep you going until we get home.”

“Thank you sir. Ma’am.”

He stared at the clean cloth. His stomach growled at the potential of real food instead of scraps he had to fight for. He waited until the wagon was rolling again before he opened it up. Four beautiful, white eggs lay inside.

Four, all for him! He carefully cracked open the first egg, saving the shell in the cloth, and nibbled the top. Though he wanted to stuff all of them in his mouth at once, he would take his time. Not only would so much food bounce back, he wanted to enjoy it. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d been promised something and gone without. While he slowly ate the eggs, he imagined what else was in that basket. He didn’t expect them to share the good stuff with him, but he could hope.

That was more than he’d had in a long, long time.

Chapter Twenty

“What do you think of your new helper?”

Amelia looked over her shoulder to see if the boy had heard.

“Don’t worry, he’s so tired from living rough that a bit of food in his belly and the rolling of the wagon will keep him out cold until we stop for dinner.”

“Speaking of stopping for dinner…”

She pursed her lips and blinked up at him like a coquette. He smirked.

“Too bad. No fun and games while we eat. I’ll have to make it up to you tonight.” He bent over and gave her a quick kiss. She grabbed his head and pulled him down to deepen it. He explored her mouth for a moment before pulling back. “Dammit, woman, now you’ve got me all hot and bothered!”

“Good,” she said. She settled on the bench. She moved her shoulders so that her breasts shifted under the cotton. His eyes followed. “Now, both of us are in the same shape. I’ve been looking forward to the trip home all day.”

She looked over her shoulder. She recognized the boy who’d filled her tub by his shoulder-length, matted hair. He lay curled on top of their bags, facedown. He’d outgrown his shirt long ago. The few buttons still left didn’t allow the thin fabric to hide his ribs. At first, she’d thought he was filthy, but he was clean under his rags. At least, as clean as a boy could be without soap or someone to care about him.

“I can see why you wanted to bring him home,” she continued. “The poor child needs a bath, a haircut, some new clothes, and lots of food and sleep.”

“That’s not the only reason why I hired him. Tillie will be leaving in a few weeks, and I want someone to help you with chores. When his father drinks, he likes to beat on him. Today might be the time he finally kills the boy.”

She remembered her father’s beatings, often for trivial things when he came home angry. While she was often well bruised, he was careful to not break a bone. He would have to bring in the doctor, and that would prove embarrassing to him socially.

Poor men who beat children and women didn’t care about social niceties. She’d seen so much brutality. After a few weeks to prove herself, the doctors let her take over the wee ones as the sight of a big man put terror into them.

Tanner’s Ford had a doctor, but she had yet to meet him. Beth said Dr. Henley seemed to know what he was about. Amelia would talk with him before letting him near anyone she cared about. Too many doctors were drunks who didn’t boil their instruments or wash their hands.

“Is it sheer meanness, or does he make up reasons to justify it?”

“He thinks he has a reason.”

“To beat a child to death?”

“The boy has a hare lip. His mother died birthing him, so his pa says he’s cursed by the devil. Every time the man gets drunk, he tries to beat that devil out of the kid. Somewhere in his mind, he might think he’s doing the right thing.”

“That’s preposterous!”

Ross stared straight ahead. “Some folks are superstitious and agree with him. When the boy’s older, he’ll grow a moustache to cover it, but he’ll never be able to kiss a pretty girl.”

“Oh, yes, he will!”

“Amelia, there’s nothing we can do about his split lip. He’ll manage.”

“If it’s only his lip, a good doctor can sew it together.”

“Is this one of your Eastern city things?

Though Ross was a reasonable man, she wasn’t yet comfortable telling him about helping at the clinic. If the town doctor found out, he might refuse to come if someone was sick. Though she knew how to sew and bandage cuts and wounds, she knew little about medicine.

“Yes, I heard about surgeons operating on children like this in England and Europe.”

“We won’t find one of those here or in Bannack City.”

“Then we’ll go to Virginia City if we have to, or even farther!” She pulled on his arm. “When you take on a child, you do whatever you can to help them. With food, teaching, and proper discipline, he could turn out to be a good man.”

Ross gazed down at her with a half smile. He shook his head and faced forward again. “You’re right. We’ll find some way to help the boy.”

* * * *

“Who’s this ragged set of bones?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment before continuing to fill the kindling box. He brushed off the chips of wood before he stood up and turned. The tall man, so like his brother but with brown eyes, leaned one bare shoulder against the kitchen wall.

“My name’s Daniel, Mr. MacDougal, er, Mr. Nevin.”

“Saw you in town. Thought you were Ernest Junior.”

“Not no more, sir.” He shook his head. “I left that behind.”

“Along with your pa?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Smart lad.” He sniffed and curled his lip. “You stink. No one comes into Mrs. MacDougal’s home who stinks. You need a bath.”

Shame heated Daniel’s face. Though he washed as best he could whenever possible, he had to put the same dirty clothes back on.

“Yes, sir, but I wanted to fill the water and wood box before Mrs. MacDougal came in. I don’t got nothing else to put on.”

Nevin looked up as Ross walked into the kitchen.

“I hired Daniel to help the women with chores,” said Ross.

“He’s pretty skinny.”

“Auntie’s cooking will soon put muscle on him.” Ross pointed to a package sitting on the table. “Take that and the soap to the creek.”

Daniel looked at the package. The crisp brown paper wasn’t wrinkled, and the string was long and clean. He’d seen people carrying packages like that out of the mercantile. He swallowed, keeping his hopes low.

“What is it, sir?”

“Mrs. MacDougal doesn’t hold with her men walking around bare assed,” said Nevin with a laugh.

“I’d never do that!”

“Those rags you’re wearing will rip if you bend over again. I got you pants and a shirt,” said Ross.

“They’re for me?” His throat was so tight he could barely whisper the words.

Nevin snorted. “Hell, boy, you’re so skinny those clothes won’t fit anyone else.”

“Pick ’em up, and let’s get going.”

Daniel’s belly growled, loud and long. When he first opened the kitchen door and smelled the tiny berry pies cooling on the table, he forced his hands to stay far away. They were the smallest pies he’d ever seen, the perfect size to pick up in your hand. Something he could not do and be allowed to live there. He picked up the package and turned away.

“You got a hand free. Might as well take one of those tarts with you,” said Nevin.

“Sir?”

“That belly of yours is so loud you’ll scare away my ravens.” Ross strolled to the table and picked up one of the tiny pies. “Mrs. MacDougal expects a few of her berry tarts to disappear every time one of us comes near the house.”

“That’s why I stopped by,” said Nevin. He swung past the table, scooped one up, and left the kitchen.

“Don’t bite into it until you get outside. If you get crumbs on the floor, you’ll have to wash it. This is your home now, and you’ll treat it right.”

Home? As he followed Ross out the door, Daniel came closer to crying than he could ever remember. He blinked furiously, but a tear still slid out of his left eye. He shifted his package so he could wipe away the evidence before anyone saw it.
Don’t get your hopes up.
One time, a woman lived with them for almost a year. She was nice and cooked real good. But Pa beat her once too many times, and she walked out. She kissed him on the cheek before she left, though. Everything good ended, but he could enjoy it while it was there.

Since Ross didn’t bite into his pie, neither did Daniel. His belly should be full after the dinner they shared on the way to the MD ranch. When Mrs. MacDougal handed him a whole leg of roast chicken without dirt or anything on it, he thought he’d die happy, right there. Though he turned his back to eat, neither Mr. or Mrs. MacDougal said anything insulting because he couldn’t close his mouth.

He couldn’t remember ever eating a tiny fruit pie like the one in his hand. No, not a small pie. Ross called it a tart. Daniel decided he’d listen hard and learn all he could before they sent him away. He scrambled to keep up. The man had long legs and moved fast.

“Did you bring the soap?”

Daniel gasped in horror. He had his mind so full of tart and new clothes that he’d forgotten. He set his package on the bank of the stream and put his tart on top. He eyed the treat, expecting it to be gone by the time he got back. He hurried past Ross, but the man yanked the back of his shirt. It ripped, leaving Ross holding the collar as the rest slid to the ground.