Wedded For The Baby. Dorothy Clark

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СКАЧАТЬ soft heart. He shoved the paper in his pocket and pulled the coffeepot Ah Key had ready for tomorrow morning over the fire. “We need to talk, Katherine—to learn a few facts about one another...” He glanced down at her. “For instance, do you like coffee? Or are you a tea drinker?”

      “I drink both—black and hot.”

      He raised his eyebrows, gave her another look.

      “That surprises you?”

      “It does. You appear to be more the genteel ‘tea with cream and sugar’ type.”

      She laughed—a musical, feminine laugh that tore at his heart. He turned away, crossed to the step-back cupboard, picked up cups and saucers and placed them on the table.

      “I’m sorry if that disappoints you. I can learn to drink my coffee with cream.”

      She’d picked up on his reaction, though she’d misjudged the reason for it. He’d have to be more careful. “Not at all. You simply surprised me. In my experience, most women prefer their coffee...diluted. Where did you learn to drink yours black?”

      “At my father’s knee—literally. When I was a toddler, I used to hold on to his knee and beg for a sip. He always gave it to me—to Mother’s displeasure.” She moved toward the door to the hallway. “I think I’ll go upstairs and see if the baby is all right.”

      “You left his bedroom door open. We will hear him if he cries.”

      “I suppose...” She hovered near the door. “I’m not comfortable having him so far away. I’ve been holding him all day. I didn’t want him to feel...lost or lonely.”

      He set his heart against the sympathy in her voice. “I think the first thing we should settle is a name for the baby. It will certainly seem odd if he doesn’t have one by now. Have you any suggestions?”

      “Me?” She shook her head, playing with one of the jet-black buttons on the bodice of her gray gown. “That’s not my place. He’s your child, Mr. Warren.”

      “Trace.” He squelched the desire to flee her presence and pressed ahead with his duty to the child. “It’s true the baby is now my ward and responsibility, but he is still a stranger to me. If you have any thoughts on the matter of a name, I would appreciate hearing them.”

      “Very well.” She met his gaze then looked back toward the stairs. “I had decided—were I unable to find you—I would name him Howard. I thought...it would be good to...to have him carry his mother’s name.”

      “You were going to keep him?” He stared at her, unable to look away, though her eyes shimmered with tears. He did not want to feel sympathy for this woman. He didn’t want to feel any emotional connection to her.

      “I made Susan Howard a promise.”

      There was nothing grandiose or posturing in her attitude or voice. It was a simple statement of fact. He couldn’t stop the surge of admiration and respect. He nodded then moved back to the stove and pretended to check the coffee. “What you say makes excellent sense. I agree. His name should be—is—Howard. I’ll write it on the birth paper tonight.”

      She nodded, still playing with that button, then took a step back into the kitchen. “If I may...what is his middle name to be? Howard Warren sounds incomplete. If you’ll forgive me my impertinence, perhaps Trace? It has a nice sound—Howard Trace Warren.”

      It hit him hard, hearing her attach the child to him like that. He clenched his hands, blew out his breath. “I’ll think about it.” It was the most polite response he could make. He couldn’t agree—not to that. He forced back the memory of his own tiny son—of the vision of the name Trace Gallager Warren, Junior carved into the marble headstone beneath the one that read Charlotte Anne Warren—Wife and mother. He grabbed a towel, lifted the coffeepot and carried it to the table. If he was still a praying man, he’d pray that baby upstairs would begin to cry for attention right now.

      The silence remained undisturbed except by the rustle of Katherine’s gown as she moved toward the table. He swallowed back the aching bitterness and pulled out her chair with his free hand. A hint of a floral scent rose from her hair as she took her seat. He moved away, poured their coffee and inhaled deeply to rid himself of the smell of lavender. It took all of his fortitude to take the seat opposite her. Charlotte... He refused his wife’s name—rejected the image hovering at the edge of his determination to hold it at bay. Guilt made the coffee bitter as gall.

      “I believe there are a few facts we should know about one another in case we are asked questions by John Ferndale or his wife. Or any other resident of Whisper Creek. I’m from New York City. Where are you from, Katherine?”

      “Albany, New York.”

      “And have you close family I should know about?”

      “A sister, Judith. She’s married to a soldier who is presently stationed at Fort Bridger. I was on my way to visit her when I met Miss Howard on the train.” She paused, took a breath. “Our mother passed a few weeks ago after a long illness. Father preceded her by two years.”

      Two years. 1866. The year his world had collapsed into a meaningless void. He jerked his mind back to the present. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

      “Thank you.” She took a swallow of her coffee, straightened her back and met his gaze. “Have you close family I should know of?”

      “No. There’s no one...now.” He put down his cup and forced out words. “I’m not in the habit of lying, Katherine. But to explain the baby, and still protect Miss Howard’s reputation, I told Mr. Ferndale that the young woman I was marrying had taken over the care of an infant when a friend died giving it birth.” He stared down at his cup until he got his emotions under control, then looked over at her.

      She was staring at him. “That’s...uncanny.”

      “It does seem so.”

      “What else have you told Mr. Ferndale that I need to know?”

      “Very little. I’ve been deliberately vague with any facts. As Miss Howard and I were not acquainted, I wanted a story that would cover whatever situation I found myself in.” He took another swallow of his coffee and plunged in. “If we are asked, this will be our story. We—you and I now—met through a mutual acquaintance—”

      “Miss Susan Howard?”

      He nodded approval. “An excellent idea. It will explain our choice of that name for the baby. To continue...while we have only come to know each other through our recent correspondence, we were both lonely and decided to marry. A second reason for our union is to give the orphaned baby a family—” he almost choked on the word “—and a comfortable home. That will explain why we know so little about each other outside of the pertinent facts concerning our present lives. For instance, you know that I’m an apothecary, recently come to open a shop here in Whisper Creek in Wyoming Territory.”

      “It seems as if I should know how you learned of this business opportunity.”

      “Yes, of course.” He steeled himself to talk about the past. “I was...dissatisfied with my life, and when I came across a notice in the newspaper about the founding of a new town in Wyoming Territory the idea of moving west was appealing. I went to talk with the agent interviewing СКАЧАТЬ