The Cowboy's Baby (9 page)

“I was afraid of disappointing you. Failing you.”

“You keep saying that as if I had somehow put unreal expectations on you. If I did, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t. Like I said. It wasn’t anything to do with you.”

“And what happened to this thing that sent you running? This thing you don’t seem able to identify?”

“Maybe I outran it.”

“What? What is
it?
And what if it catches up to you again?” Why couldn’t he give a straight answer? Though if he said she was
it,
that might prove more than she could handle.

He took her hands and faced her squarely.

She wanted to pull away but his look held her like a freshly spun spiderweb made with steel threads.

“I don’t know why I ran. Maybe I will never
understand. But this one thing I do know, forgetting what is behind and reaching for those things that are better. I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. That’s from Philippians, Chapter 3. Your father explained it was like running a race. If I look over my shoulder I’m slowed down. I might get off course or even stumble. I’m not looking back. I’m not going back. The only direction I’m running is straight for the prize of the high calling of God.”

Her mouth dropped open. She blinked. This was not the Colby she remembered—uncertain of who he was, what he was. “You’re different.”

He grinned as he squeezed her hands and pulled her so close they were almost nose to nose. “You’re finally getting it.”

She jerked back, stunned by his words, even more stunned by his assurance.

“Isn’t it about time you started to accept me?”

“I—” She couldn’t finish. This was what she wanted. This closeness. This assurance. Yet— “Those men?”

He sighed and pulled away. “I can see it’s going to take some time. Those men are the ones I used to drink with. They’ve come to hear about God. You see, I told them I was changed….” He let his words trail off.

But she understood what he didn’t say…his
former drinking buddies were more ready to believe him than she.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“Of me?”

“Of being hurt, disappointed.” She tore her gaze from him, but felt more lonely than ever and slowly shifted until she met his eyes again.

He nodded. “Anna, there are no guarantees in life. I can’t give you any. No one can. But you can’t pull life around you like a blanket and hope that you can somehow prevent anything unpleasant.”

Hadn’t Laura warned her things would change? She couldn’t stop it. Normal change was one thing and not particularly welcome at that.

Walking into a situation that held as much threat as promise was quite another.

His voice grew husky. “Don’t you ever want more for yourself than to run your father’s home?”

Did she? She allowed a door to creak open so she could see inside where her secret longings and denied dreams resided. What she saw filled her with an ache as wide as the Dakota horizon. She longed for more. She wanted it all—her own home, a husband who loved her, children added to Dorrie’s sweet presence. It was impossible. Unattainable.

Frighteningly different.

She closed her eyes and prayed for wisdom and common sense.

Colby’s whisper persisted. “Don’t you wish you could have your own home? Your own family?”

Eyes still closed, she nodded slowly.

“Then trust me.”

Her eyes flashed wide as she realized what stood in the way of doing so. “I need to know what makes you run.” Giving him the benefit of doubt, she corrected herself. “Made you run.” Until she did, it would be a specter hovering in the corners, able to send him down the road if the conditions gave it more strength.

She rose with as much dignity as her shaking limbs allowed and head held high by dint of her rigid self-control, she returned home.

That should have been the end of it. But how could it be when he joined them for every meal, when she had but to look out the window to glimpse him at work and when her heart continued to ache after him. When he spoke words of encouragement to her and offered so much leadership to Alex.

She couldn’t seem to turn around without memories of him.

He’d sat in that chair holding a skein of yarn for Rose and listening to Anna’s spelling words.

He’d stood at her side at the cupboard washing
dishes as she dried, telling her of the stampede of cattle in a vicious storm when he was but fourteen and on his first cattle drive.

He’d stood in the middle of the front room and stared in awe as she came from her room in her new outfit, one Rose had made ’specially for the Christmas program.

Even the church was full of memories—current ones of singing and playing music together, sharing bits and pieces of the years they’d been apart— intermingled with the past when he had eagerly listened to every word Father spoke as if seeking something to fill a vast hunger.

Why did he run? If she understood perhaps she could trust him not to do so again.

But until then…

C
olby stepped into the kitchen as familiar as any home he’d ever known. The aroma of fried chops, apples and cinnamon greeted him. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scents and felt a sensation of peace and blessing. This is what home should be like, not the fear-filled uncertainty of his younger years. “Smells great in here.”

“Anna made apple pandowdy,” Alex said. “She makes the best in the world.”

“Alex,” Anna scolded. “How would you know?” She smiled apologetically at Colby.

As their gazes connected he acknowledged that all he’d wanted all his life was right here in this room, in the smile of one woman—Anna. Why he’d left her even once was beyond understanding. Yet he had done so twice, three times if
he counted Nora. But now he wanted to be with her, together with Dorrie, part of Anna’s life forever. He was trying to trust God to make it possible yet the one thing she wanted he could not give—the reason he had left. He could have said because he feared he would become like his pa. She would have understood that. But it wasn’t honesty and he wanted nothing but the truth between them.

What about what you did?

He could never tell her that awful truth. It was part of what he had left behind. Pastor Caldwell assured him that God forgave and forgot the past. Colby intended to do the same.

Yet what if his past found him? It scared him through and through. He hoped no one noticed how stiff his joints seemed as he moved to the table and sank to a chair.

Over the meal, the Caldwells frequently shared how his or her day had gone. He remembered this ritual from when he was younger, remembered how foreign it had seemed at first. He couldn’t have imagined sharing around the table with his pa. He learned to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open, ready to duck if necessary.

But the practice had made something deep inside him feel warm and welcome.

It still did.

After initial awkwardness with him sitting at the table, they had resumed the habit.

Alex barely waited for his father to say “Amen” before he bounced to the edge of his chair. “The race is coming up. I’m going to try and win the hundred-yard dash.”

Colby kept his opinion to himself. He’d only once or twice seen the boy move faster than a snail’s pace. But his enthusiasm was commendable. “I could help you practice.” He’d gone to school so seldom but one teacher, Mr. Gates, had taken an interest in making sure Colby could both read and run. Colby grinned. Two skills he found equally useful throughout his life.

“Would you? Great.”

Alex’s gratitude made him grin. He glanced at Anna and saw her gleaming smile. She mouthed the words
thank you.
His heart swelled up his throat, making it impossible to swallow until he jerked his gaze away. She’d been truly friendly since the day they had talked about the men coming to the church. Friendly but reserved. Waiting for the answer he couldn’t give. Anna told how Dorrie had said please so clearly. But her eyes shared so much more with Colby—mutual love of this child, and if he looked deep…hope for more. She turned to her father.

“How was your day, Father?”

Anna’s question slid through his mind like fresh cream, sweet and smooth. He understood it wasn’t
what she said but the sound of her voice that had this effect on him. Slowly he lifted his head to steal a glance at her as she spoke to her father. If only he knew the answer as to why he ran, he would willingly give it. But he’d told her all he knew— he believed he had nothing to offer her.

He remembered the power of prayer.
Father God, help me understand what made me feel I had to leave.

“The Booker family are all feeling better. I enjoyed a pleasant afternoon in their company.”

Colby stared at the pastor, wondering at the way he ducked his head. Totally unlike the directness he expected but no one else seemed to notice and Colby decided he had a suspicious nature.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward Colby. It was his turn. “I finished fixing the roof today.”

“Good,” Pastor Caldwell said.

Colby checked for Anna’s reaction, expecting a smile of happiness at his progress. Instead, her eyes turned dark and bottomless. She held his gaze and in that moment he was sure he felt a promise and a wish.

Then Alex passed her the potatoes and she looked away.

Had she thought how he would soon be finished? Did she wonder if he would leave? Wanting to put her mind at rest he spoke again. “I see Raw
lings is looking for help at the feed mill. How long has he had that sign up?”

“Seems it’s always up. Hear he’s a hard man to work for, though perhaps only because he expects an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.”

Colby kept his attention on the pastor as he spoke. “I could promise that.” He stole a glance at Anna and in that unguarded moment, her eyes flared, revealing the depth of her feeling for him. He turned his attention to the meal as joy filled his heart with rich strains of music.

“One of the best meals I’ve ever eaten,” he said a little while later.

“Thank you.” She pushed back. “Alex, clear up the table while I put soup bones to cook.” She reached for Dorrie.

“I’ll get her,” he offered.

She nodded and smiled as she hurried to the stove.

He lifted his daughter and stole a moment’s hug.

Dorrie patted his chin. “Owie,” she said as she felt his whiskers.

He laughed and waggled his chin. “Scratchy, aren’t they?”

She giggled then squirmed to be down. He lowered her to the floor but kept hold of her as he reached for the cloth on the cupboard and dipped it in the basin of water. “Let’s wash supper off your face.”

Dorrie lifted her face to him and let him wipe it clean.

He bent and kissed her plump cheeks then released her with a pat on the bottom. “There you go, little miss.”

She pushed a chair to the cupboard. “Me help.”

Anna rubbed the back of her hand over her brow. “Sweetie, Mama’s got to peel this onion.” She shot a glance at Colby. “I want to simmer the bones overnight.”

“Me help.”

Colby chuckled. “Let’s do dishes together.” He shifted Dorrie’s chair to the cupboard and let her put her hands in the soapy water. As Alex brought him the dishes, Colby leaned over Dorrie, reaching around her to wash.

He would never get tired of the smell of his child, the way her hair tickled his chin as he helped her wash the dishes. He wished the moment could last forever but all too soon the dishes were done.

Wanting—needing—to share his joy in this child, he turned to Anna, hoping to see her eyes soften with understanding. Instead, her eyes narrowed with warning. And though she never spoke a word, he heard her clearly.

Don’t think of taking her away. I won’t let you.

His joy plunged to the pit of his stomach. He had
ruined so many things. Was it possible he could undo any of it?

With God’s help perhaps. Time alone would tell if God chose to give him such an undeserved blessing. In the meantime, he wasn’t leaving. How long would it take Anna to accept that as fact?

“Did you mean it when you said you’d help me practice for the race?” Alex asked.

“Of course. Tomorrow after school if it’s all right with Anna.”

“As soon as your chores are done. But you aren’t to interfere with Colby’s work.”

“I won’t.” He hurried to tackle his homework.

“Thank you, Colby.” Anna’s voice was sharp with warning but softened with gratitude.

“I’ve done nothing.”

“You’ve offered to help Alex. That’s something.”

He held on to hope. Perhaps she would begin to see just how they needed each other.

Colby had looked in vain for some sign of Hugh. The man must have been angry when Colby left after accusing him of such dreadful things. Colby knew he had not done anything shifty with Nora. The man had done nothing but help. Maybe Hugh was still mad enough to stay away. He hoped not. Hugh had been the one person besides Anna and
her family who saw him as more than a drunken bum. He really wanted to find him and tell him he was sorry for his stupid words.

He asked the men who had gathered in the church again to hear more about God if they knew where he could find Hugh.

“Hugh’s gone,” Tobias said, his voice slow with sadness.

“Gone?” Shock numbed his cheeks. “Dead?”

“Nah. Gone to the Black Hills looking for gold.”

Colby’s breath whooshed out. “Scared me for a minute.”

Arty let out an expansive sigh. “Could be dead by now. I hear the camps are pretty rough places.”

Slink waved an unsteady hand. “Hugh knows how to take care of himself.”

“No one’s heard from him?” Colby asked.

“No one’s said so.”

“I wonder how a person could locate him?” Now it seemed he must find Hugh. Make sure he was alive.

Tobias rubbed his whiskery chin making a raspy sound. “Suppose you could write to the sheriff in one of the towns and ask after him.”

“Good idea. Maybe I’ll do that. Thanks for your help.”

If he could locate Hugh and make things right between them, it would be one less thing from his past to haunt him.

But one thing would forever haunt him.

He waved goodbye to the men before he allowed the worst thing from his past to fill his mind.

There was no way he could undo it. The best he could hope for was to hide from it.

“So we all know what we are to do for the party?” Mrs. Percy checked around the circle. The ladies’ sewing group had assembled again in the front room of the manse to plan the lunch the church would serve at the town birthday party. The usual people attended. It was nice to see Mrs. Booker, wan but able to be up and about. She had brought her sister, Grace Weaver, who wore a pretty gray dress. Anna decided Miss Weaver was almost as pretty as Rose had been.

The ladies murmured agreement to Mrs. Percy’s question. They had gone over the arrangements a number of times. Anna was certain everyone had memorized the details by now but Mrs. Percy was a stickler for wanting things perfect.

“Now about the booth downtown.”

There followed a flurry of suggestions.

Anna tried to concentrate on the business at hand as each one listed the items they would donate to sell at the booth to help fund a library for the town, but her thoughts insisted on drifting over to the church where Colby worked.

With each passing day she found it increasingly hard to keep Colby from invading her mind. Every moment they were apart she ached to be with him. Yet when she was with him, her caution made it impossible to fully enjoy his presence.

She was turning into a fussy old woman.

Mrs. Percy cleared her throat, alerting Anna to pay attention as an important item was to be introduced.

“Mr. Percy says the repairs are coming along well.”

Anna nodded, pleased for the faint praise on Colby’s behalf.

“I’m concerned, however—”

Anna sat up straight. Mrs. Percy’s “howevers” usually meant “oh, no” for Anna.

“Are you all aware of what’s going on at the church many evenings?”

Anna’s heart bolted for her mouth. Had people seen her going over to spend time with Colby? Had they deemed it inappropriate? Even though it had been perfectly innocent, necessary practice for the Sunday hymns, she should have been more careful.

“Unsavory characters hanging about.” She fixed Anna with a stern look. “Are you aware of this?”

Oh, only the men visiting Colby.

It took a full minute for Anna’s heart to resume its normal pace. “Of course. Father says the church welcomes sinners.”

Mrs. Klein nodded. “That’s a fact.”

“I just think it’s suspicious. Colby Bloxham and his old friends.” The word was accompanied with a sniff. “Could be they’re drinking.”

Anna stilled her features not to smile at the woman’s distress over such an idea. Then her amusement faded. She’d been equally suspicious and it was every bit as ludicrous on her behalf. “They’ve come to learn about God.”

Mrs. Percy’s mouth flopped open. She seemed to struggle with the idea. “Well.”
Huff.

“Why, isn’t that wonderful.” It was Miss Weaver. “Exactly the sort of people our Lord would have sought out when He was on earth.”

Mrs. Percy’s eyebrows headed for her hairline. “Exactly the sort He would have driven from the temple, I say. ‘My house is the house of prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves.’”

Miss Weaver smiled gently. “I must have misunderstood. I thought young Colby has repented and asked for salvation.”

Anna watched in awe. She had never seen anyone stand up to Mrs. Percy but despite how Miss Weaver spoke calmly, it was a duel as brisk as any with swords.

Mrs. Klein dared to enter the foray. “I understood the same thing.”

“Well, praise God.” Miss Weaver said with a gentle smile. “He is no longer the Colby you remember, is he? God’s word says ‘If any man be in Christ he is a new creature, old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.’”

Anna’s respect for Mrs. Booker’s sister grew. Yet the words troubled her. She believed God’s word. Heaven forbid otherwise. But was Colby a new creature? Was he changed or was this life convenient for now? After all, hadn’t he acted much the same before Rose died? Was this any more real?

Mrs. Percy smiled, a look as full of challenge as anything. “In Galatians, Chapter 6, and also First Corinthians, Chapter 4, Verse 2, if I don’t miss my mark—”

Anna knew—as did everyone else—that Mrs. Percy seldom missed her mark.

“We are warned that a man must prove himself.”

Exactly. That’s what Anna wanted—Colby to prove himself before she could trust her heart to him again.

Miss Weaver nodded. “I perceive you are a true student of the word.”

Heads jerked from Mrs. Percy to Miss Weaver, and Anna guessed the rest of the ladies were as keen to see how this exchange would end as she.

“But to whom must he prove himself? Does not the word warn us in Romans, Chapter 14, Verse 4, if I remember correctly but then I fear I am not the expert student you are, that ‘to his own master he standeth or falleth.’ Is it not the Lord’s work to change him? As it says in Philippians, Chapter 2, Verse 13, ‘It is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of His good pleasure.’ Perhaps we need to trust God to do His work.”