A Baby For Christmas. Linda Ford

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      Louise should have known better than to expect Nate to help. Years ago he’d ridden from her life just when she’d needed someone.

      Turning away, she did her best to hasten off, even though her bulk turned her hurry into an awkward waddle. He’d encouraged her to come up with a better plan? She’d do exactly that. He’d suggested she buy stagecoach tickets for herself and Missy, and she would. She’d find her way to Eden Valley Ranch with or without his help.

      She returned to Aunt Bea’s house where she’d taken Missy once Vic had revealed his plan to move into the Porter home. When they arrived, her aunt had inquired as to the duration of their visit.

      “We won’t stay long,” Louise had soothed.

      Aunt Bea’s handkerchief had fluttered vigorously, a sure sign of her displeasure. “I thought when you married that young Porter you’d moved out. Into your own home,” she’d added, as if realizing how unwelcoming she sounded.

      Louise had thought so, too. In fact, about all she’d ever wanted in life was a home where she could belong. But things had changed. Vic had seen to that. Now she didn’t know what she wanted. There was only one thing she was certain of. Whatever she hoped to achieve, she would have to do it on her own. No point in thinking she could count on anyone to help.

      “Can I get you some tea?” Louise asked her aunt. “Or would you like me to prepare supper?”

      “You’ll be staying?” Aunt Bea’s hands fell to her lap.

      “We won’t be any bother.” In fact, she’d clean the house thoroughly and bake up some goodies. Aunt Bea never seemed to get around to either anymore. Not that she ever had, preferring to spend her time reading dusty old books or knitting an endless supply of blankets, scarves and thick mittens. At least Louise had never suffered from cold hands in the winter.

      Aunt Bea waved toward the kitchen. “Tea would be nice.”

      Louise crossed to the door. “Missy, you can help me.”

      Missy rose to her feet quickly and almost plowed over Louise in her haste to escape Aunt Bea.

      Louise chuckled. “She won’t bite.”

      Missy leaned forward to whisper, “She scares me half to death.”

      “She isn’t half as scary as Vic.”

      Missy shuddered. “What are we going to do? We can’t hide here very long. Vic knows where we are.”

      “I have a plan. In the meantime, let’s make Aunt Bea some tea and then we’re going to clean this mess.” How did her aunt survive amidst all the dirty dishes and the sticky floor?

      Missy hustled about, filling the kettle with water, finding the teapot and tea leaves. Perhaps she was eager to put her mind to something besides where they were going to live. “So what’s your plan?” she asked.

      Louise considered what to say to her sister-in-law. If she revealed too much and Vic got hold of Missy, the girl might inadvertently say more than she should. “I need to work out a few details and then I’ll tell you.”

      Missy gave her a long look. “One of these days you’ll realize I’m no longer a child.”

      Louise patted her back. Missy was right. She’d turned eighteen two months ago, and was now a young woman. “I already do, but you can’t blame me for wanting to take care of you.”

      Missy started sorting through the soiled dishes, preparing to wash them.

      Louise waited, knowing something more troubled her.

      Finally, Missy grabbed a dish towel, wiped her hands and turned to face Louise. “That house is the only home I’ve ever known.”

      “I know.” There seemed no value in pointing out she’d had a home longer than Louise had ever had, as well as the surety of being wanted. The young girl had experienced loss, too, and life hadn’t been easy for her, either. “But do you think we can get Vic to leave?”

      Missy shook her head, sending strands of her blond hair across her cheeks. She had always been a beautiful, almost ethereal-looking child and had matured into a young woman who drew glances wherever she went. From his first look at Missy, Vic had wanted to claim her as his own.

      Why he wanted Louise defied logic. Probably just to prove he could. Seemed the man always had to get what others had. Or what they said he couldn’t have.

      When it was steeped, they took the tea to Aunt Bea. There wasn’t a biscuit or cookie or even a heel of bread in the house.

      “Let’s surprise Aunt Bea by making her a supper she won’t forget,” Louise said. “But first, let’s clean the kitchen.”

      They washed dishes until they both had prune-like fingers.

      “I’ll do the floor,” Missy insisted. “You need to take it easy.”

      Louise wouldn’t admit it, but her back ached and she was weary clear through. Too weary to make her way to the stagecoach office. She sighed. Her plans would have to wait until tomorrow.

      “Thank you. I’ll prepare the vegetables while you do the floor.” She sat at the table to work, grateful for a chance to rest her feet. But when her gaze went to the window and she saw Vic loitering in the alley beyond the yard, her weariness vanished. Right then and there she knew what she had to do. She wouldn’t say anything about his presence for fear of alarming the others, but she’d be sure to lock the house tightly tonight and sleep with a poker beside her bed.

      * * *

      After breakfast the next morning, Louise announced she had business to attend to. “Missy, you stay here and keep the doors locked.”

      “Why?” Missy asked. Then, as if she realized the reason, she took a step toward the window.

      Louise caught her arm and stopped her. “He’s been there a while. Don’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know we know.”

      “He’ll follow you.”

      “I’ve thought of that. And I have a plan. Why don’t you open the back door and toss the dishwater out. He’ll be watching you and I’ll slip out the front door. He won’t even know.” Please, God, make me invisible to him.

      “Be sure and lock up after I leave.” She waited until Missy opened the back door, then slipped out the front and hurried down the street toward the heart of town, going directly to the stagecoach office.

      “How do I get to Eden Valley Ranch?”

      The bespectacled man behind the wicket stared at her. “Guess I’d have to know where it was before I could tell you that, ma’am.”

      She racked her brain. Had Mrs. Hawkins ever said the name of the nearest town when she’d spoken of the ranch on which her son worked? Yes. It came in a flash and brought a relieved sigh. “Edendale in Alberta, Canada.”

      The man tipped his nose as he studied a map on the wall to the side of the wicket. Then he brought his gaze back СКАЧАТЬ