Pony Express Special Delivery. Rhonda Gibson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the pent-up air in his lungs. He knew a moment of intense satisfaction and peace. A frail smile touched the woman’s lips as she examined her newborn son. She yawned and her eyelids drifted down. Clayton gently lifted her and the baby, and he eased them back onto the bed. She may have been too weak to stand, but he noticed the grip on her baby had not lessened one bit. Clayton pulled the covers over them both and started to straighten up the room.

      As he turned with the pan of water, he noticed the little girl standing in the doorway, silent sobs shaking her body. He set the pan on the dresser and picked Dinah up.

      In the corner of the room sat a rocker. He dropped into it, holding her. Clayton rocked, occasionally rubbing her hair as he’d seen his adoptive mother, Rebecca, do with his sister many times.

      His gaze moved to the woman on the bed. She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep with the baby cradled against her. He felt Dinah relax in his arms. Her eyelids drooped and finally her breathing relaxed into that of gentle slumber.

      Clayton laid his head against the back of the rocker and propped his feet on the footboard of the bed. The chair tilted to a perfect sleeping position. The room now lay in shadows as the sun completed its final descent. Clayton felt exhaustion pull at him but remembered that he couldn’t sleep. The horses were still outside and needed tending.

      He lowered his boots, stood up slowly and carried Dinah to the bed. Clayton laid her on the opposite side of Maggie Fillmore. Maggie’s blond hair rested against her cheek, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes. How long had she labored alone?

      Protective vibes for the sleeping trio filled him as questions plagued his mind. Where were the men who should have been close to the ranch house? Why hadn’t the widow had another woman with her during her birthing time? Would he be able to protect his heart from this precious family?

      * * *

      Maggie awoke with a start. The smell of bacon wafted up the stairs. No, not up the stairs. There was no way the odor could travel that far. She turned her head and saw a plate of eggs, bacon and toast resting on the table.

      She sensed Dinah stirring at her back. “Sissy?”

      “I’m here.” Maggie reached behind her and touched the little girl, all the while focusing on the baby who slept so contentedly next to her. Several times during the night, she’d drawn him close to nurse.

      “Where is Mr. Young?” Dinah sat up and leaned over Maggie’s shoulder. “Did he fix us breakfast?”

      Maggie heard Dinah’s stomach growl. Poor little mite hadn’t had anything to eat since noon the day before. Maggie’s pains had been so great during labor that she hadn’t been able to make it back down the stairs. “I’m not sure who fixed this.” Maggie handed her a strip of the crispy bacon.

      “Hold up, half-pint.”

      In the doorway stood the man who’d saved the baby’s life the night before. Maggie pushed herself up, bracing her back on the headboard and holding on to the baby. Her body ached in places she never knew could hurt.

      He came into the room carrying two more plates of food. He held the smaller plate out as if offering it to Dinah. “I brought you your own breakfast.”

      Dinah returned the strip of bacon to Maggie’s plate and scooted from the bed. She hurried around the end to take her plate. “Thank you.”

      He brushed his hand across the top of her blond head. “My pleasure.” His blue gaze swung toward Maggie. “I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home in your kitchen.”

      She watched as he walked to the rocker at the foot of the bed. He pulled two forks from his back pocket, handed one to Dinah and then eased into the rocker. Dinah followed and sat at his feet.

      Maggie frowned. Dinah wasn’t the type to take to a stranger as she was doing with this man. Was she infatuated with him because he’d saved the baby’s life and fixed them breakfast?

      He said a quick prayer over the food and then looked up at her. His piercing blue eyes met hers. He waved his fork in the direction of the food. “You should probably eat it while it’s hot.”

      She pulled the plate and fork to her. “Um, who are you?” Maggie set the plate on the edge of the bed. The fact that he’d prayed over the food surprised her. She’d not been much for going into town for church, and Jack had never shown an interest either. Had God really answered her prayers last night and sent a godly man to save her baby’s life?

      “Oh, I’m sorry. Name’s Clayton Young. I’m the new Pony Express station manager. I suppose I should have introduced myself last night, but I forgot with the urgency of the situation and all.” He shoveled egg into his mouth.

      Maggie didn’t know what to say to that, so instead replied, “Thank you for saving the baby.”

      Clayton grinned. “Thank God, ma’am. He’s the one who saved the boy. I was just the instrument He used.” He winked at Dinah. “Isn’t that right, half-pint?”

      Dinah smiled around a mouthful of eggs and nodded happily.

      Maggie studied the pair. It was as if they shared a secret. She sampled the bacon. It was good. Mr. Young seemed to be able to fry meat as well as save babies.

      “Have you come up with a name for the little tyke?” Clayton Young asked.

      Her gaze moved to the infant. He needed a name, but Maggie didn’t know what to call him. She’d been struggling with that for a couple of months now. Jack might have liked the boy named after him, but Maggie didn’t want to call him Jack Jr. She’d thought about the men in her life. Her father’s name was Paul, but he wasn’t anything like the apostle. That name would only conjure up bitter memories of the man who’d run off with another woman and left her mother heartbroken. She’d not known her grandfathers so had no names to choose from there.

      Clayton cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure there is no rush.”

      Maggie looked up at him. The only man who’d ever done anything for her was a total stranger, and he sat across the room from her. “Maybe I’ll name him Clayton, after you.”

      Clayton shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

      “Why not?” Dinah asked.

      He set his now-empty plate on the floor. “Well, every time his mother would call, ‘Clayton!’ I’d come a-runnin’. When boys are little their mamas have to call their names a lot.”

      “Oh.” Dinah looked to Maggie. “I like the name James.”

      Maggie looked down on her newborn’s sweet face. His lips were puckered in sleep. “What do you think of the name James, baby?” His eyes opened and he yawned.

      Dinah clapped her hands. “He likes it.”

      Maggie snuggled the baby’s face and felt his small lips move across her skin. He smelled sweet and warm. She looked up with a grin that quickly faded. Mr. Young looked as if he’d swallowed a bug. “What’s the matter, Mr. Young? Do you not like the name James?” She didn’t know why it mattered to her if he liked the name or not, but it did.

      “I like it just fine.”

      Dinah СКАЧАТЬ