The Baby Compromise. Linda Ford

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      Chapter One

      Evans Grove, Nebraska

      Late May, 1875

      One day. He could spare one day away from home. He owed it to the people of Evans Grove to help with the construction of the town’s new orphanage. A single day wasn’t much, but it was something. The orphans rescued from the clutches of Felix Baxter deserved a safe place to call home.

      But still, twenty-eight-year-old Colton Hayes paused at the door as he planted his favorite black cowboy hat firmly on his head.

      “Ma, Pa, you’ll be okay until I get back?” He didn’t like to leave them alone.

      “Those poor children need the orphanage as soon as they can get it,” Pa said. “You go do what you can to help.”

      “I’ll try to make supper.” Ma had her long-suffering tone down to a fine art. Not that she didn’t have cause. Bearing him late in life had overtaxed her heart. From a young age, he’d done all he could to ease her burden.

      “Don’t worry about it, Ma. I’ll make something when I get back. You two just take care of yourselves.” He’d be hungry after a day of work, but he had pork chops in the icebox. He’d learned long ago to boil potatoes in their jackets to save time.

      “Pa, you need anything?”

      “I’m fine, son.” And to prove it, he pushed up from his chair.

      Before he could hobble more than a step, Colton leaped forward to take the cup from his trembling hands. Since his accident three years ago, Pa lived in constant pain that made walking almost impossible.

      Knowing his stupidity had caused Pa’s injuries twisted Colton’s insides. He silently vowed yet again to take care of him the rest of his life.

      Colton filled the cup and carried it back to the table beside Pa’s chair. “I’ve left soup on the stove. Ma, can you see that Pa gets a bowl of it?” He really should stay home and make sure they were both safe.

      Ma sighed. “I ’spect I can manage, though I’ve been feeling poorly these past days.” She pressed a hand to her chest.

      Colton studied her. Did pain deepen the lines on her face?

      She waved wearily. “You go ahead. We’ll be fine.”

      “I’ll be back later.” Still he hesitated, torn between his parents’ needs and the building project. “Seems we should help the community as much as we’re able,” he said, reminding himself why he’d made the commitment away from home. “After all, God spared us from the devastation of the flood.” A storm in the spring had caused the nearby dam to break, flooding the town, damaging many of the homes and businesses, and causing several deaths. Then, in hopes of ensnaring more children for his child-labor schemes, Baxter had started a fire that destroyed the school. Thankfully, his attempt to implicate the local orphans so the citizens of Evans Grove would send the children to Greenville had failed. The townspeople were pulling together to rebuild. Colton owed it to them to lend a hand.

      Pa settled back in his chair with a muffled groan. “God truly spared us.” He lifted his hand in a half wave. “You go help out where you’re needed.”

      Colton closed the door quietly, then turned toward town. One day to work. Then he’d be back home, taking care of his responsibilities.

      He swung into the saddle and rode the few miles to town. He passed familiar homes, called a greeting to Mr. Gavin as he passed the general store. Like many of the homes and businesses in town, it still bore the mark of the high water of the flood.

      He continued onward to the raw frame of the orphanage. Once it was finished, it would be a two-story structure with bedrooms upstairs for the children and staff. Rooms on the main floor would be used for daytime activity.

      Strange. No one had arrived to work yet. He understood that men had volunteered and were scheduled to show up on specific days. Just as he had signed up to work today.

      He studied the shell of the building. Wasn’t there supposed to be a stack of lumber nearby? Bought and paid for by the generous, yet anonymous, donor funding the project? The gift had everyone talking and guessing as to who the donor might be.

      It would be interesting to know who had enough money to fund two building projects—both the orphanage and the school. But unless men showed up to work, the money would benefit no one.

      He slipped from his horse, tied the reins to the nearest post and continued his inspection on foot.

      As far as he could tell, there’d been nothing done since his last visit to town three days ago. He scratched his head. Moreover, it appeared as if someone had tried to knock out part of the framework where the front door would be. Was there something wrong with the work? He examined the braces and could see no flaw in the construction. Strange.

      He circled the building to the back and stared. Someone had left a basket in front of the doorway. Laundry, by the look of it. Who would do that? And why? This whole thing was beginning to feel wrong.

      He crossed the distance and squatted by the basket. Looked like... He lifted the first item. Bedding? Small bedding. What on earth?

      The laundry in the basket moved. He jerked, almost losing his balance. Sucking in air to steady his twitching nerves, he gingerly plucked at the items. A cotton flannel square and then a quilt wrapped around—

      Colton stared. A baby? He jolted upright and gave the surroundings an intent stare. Where was the mother? He saw no one nearby except Mr. Gavin sweeping the sidewalk in front of his store. Colton opened his mouth to call to him and demand if he knew anything, but he was too far away.

      The baby made a mewling sound.

      Colton squatted by the basket again. “Who are you?” He’d never seen such a tiny human before. He didn’t know much about babies—anything, really—but he suspected the infant couldn’t be more than a few days old. He touched the incredibly small, pink cheek. So soft. So warm.

      Who did this baby belong to? He poked his fingers around the swaddled infant, looking for clues to the young one’s identity. He found a bottle full of milk, but nothing more.

      Nothing except—

      He examined the quilt bundled around the baby and realized that he recognized this pattern. No one made it but his grandmother. She said she’d dreamed it after Grandfather died. She called it “flowers of life.” Triangles of dark fabric formed the bottom half of the diamond and then a maze of bright СКАЧАТЬ