Home to Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 3) (24 page)

Chapter Seventy-Three

    
 
C
olleen lay on the porch swing, her head in Mark’s lap, daydreaming in the afternoon sunlight.

      “Do you realize that it’s been two weeks since we moved in?” Mark tugged at a curl.

      “Uh hum,” she moaned in reply.

      “Have you run out of things to say?” Mark smiled to himself.

      “I suppose,” Colleen sighed. “I think I’ve finished planting the garden now.”

      “The cows are all situated and those new horses seem content. We’ll have foals before we know it.” Mark thought aloud.

      “This is what you’ve always wanted isn’t it?” Colleen turned to look up at him.

      “I always dreamed of running a horse farm, yes, and of you.”

      The couple had easily set their routines in their new home. Colleen was busy with her cows, garden and butter making and Mark had purchased several good horses at auction. It would take time, but with the animals he already had he was sure that in a few years he’d have several fine horses to sell. With some help from the family, a few hours working at the mill every week, Colleen’s butter money and a huge garden they could make a comfortable life. They would be working hard, but at things they both enjoyed.

      “I’ll have to head over to Roland’s tomorrow to help him with that shed he’s building. Do you want to come with me?”

      Colleen sighed. “No, I still have some things to unpack. You’ll be home for lunch, right?”

      “I expect to.” He looked out across the yard.

      Bernadette felt her belly tighten again and she recognized it was nearly time to have her baby. Her father had left for the saloon hours earlier and she knew better to expect him. She decided to walk up to the doctor’s office on the other side of town. It was just a little pain, and she was certain she would be fine. When the next contraction hit she fell to the floor in confusion. It had barely stopped when she was overcome again and she cried out in fear. Another came, and then another and within minutes Bernadette was on the floor, her body pushing to expel her child as she groaned loudly in pain.

      Bernadette sat up in shock. On the hard floor lay her newborn squirming and mewling like a kitten.

      Grabbing a tattered blanket from the bed she wrapped the child lightly, pulled the scissors from her embroidery kit and cut the cord. She’d left a long section trailing from the infant which she tied closed with thread.

      Unsure as to what to do she sat for nearly an hour listening to the infant fuss. She could try taking it to the orphanage, or do something she had considered for several days.

      Bernadette had been to the Weintraub ranch in hopes that Jude might have returned there. She did not find him, but she did find that someone had built a fine new house there, a lovely house right on Jude’s property. Bernadette had the thought that maybe that was where her child belonged. Maybe Jude was back and he had built the house. Whoever it was had definitely fussed over fresh flowers in boxes on the porch and a newly dug garden. If she went to the house she could leave the child there and take the money she had saved and leave Billington. In another town she might find work with the girls in the saloons, but never with a child pulling at her skirts.

      Bernadette found a box that the infant would fit into and counted out the coins she would need for the fare to the mill station. She could walk from there.

      The train ride seemed to go on forever and by the time Bernadette had walked to the ranch she was exhausted and could barely set one foot in front of the other. “Just a bit further,” she said to herself, “then I’ll be free.”

      Kneeling on the porch of the newly built home she set the box down. The child had cried for a bit once Bernadette had gotten off of the train, but was silent now. The young woman stumbled from the stairs and made her way back towards the road to begin a new life.

      Colleen set the new candelabras on either side of the mantle and smiled with pleasure. There were a few boxes left to unpack, fine special things she wanted to put away when the rush of moving had passed and she could enjoy taking the time to fiddle with them. All of her life Colleen had never had the simplest things that were purely for pleasure and she relished every moment since she had arrived in Minnesota. Here she was, at last, cared for and comfortable. She lifted out a white pitcher, one section adorned with ceramic roses tumbling over the side. She held it up and examined it from all directions and decided it needed some of the daisies she had seen the day before in the field. Colleen pulled her scissors from the kitchen drawer and dropped them into her apron pocket and set out to gather the flowers.

      When she opened the door she heard a small squeak, like the chirp of a tiny bird, and she looked around the porch. The tattered box on the step shook briefly and Colleen stood perfectly still, watching. The box moved and chirped again. Colleen looked around the yard, but saw no one. Considering that there may be something dangerous inside she debated whether or not she ought to go for Mark when the child let out a loud wail. Colleen knew immediately it was the cry of an infant and she fell to her knees and lifted the cover to the box.

      Inside, lying naked and bloody was a newborn baby, thin and pale. Colleen gasped and caught her breath. She took the child from the filthy blanket, and inspected it carefully.

      It was a baby girl, likely not much more than six pounds and probably only a few hours old. Colleen’s mind raced with a thousand questions. Whose daughter was this and why did they leave her here? Colleen knew she would have to be fed and likely soon and the sheriff should probably be called. She gathered a clean summer blanket for the child, washed her face quickly with a warm cloth, swaddled her snugly and hurried towards the Vancouver house.

      Mark looked up from his work on the shed when he saw Colleen emerge from the trail, her face as pale as a ghost. Roland looked up and saw her as well. Mark dropped his hammer and ran to her.

      He stood in confusion as she tried to explain.

      “Someone left her in a box on the porch.” Colleen choked on the words.

      Emma emerged with Samuel in her arms and gasped.

      “Just in a box. They just left her. I washed her face. She’s covered in blood. She has to be just born.”

      Roland shook his head. “I’m going to get Tim and ride out for Ben Carson. I want you all to go inside until we know what’s going on here. Mark, you keep an eye on things. The rifle is in the den. Bring the dog inside.”

      Mark nodded his head in agreement and led the distraught women into the house.

      Emma helped Colleen wash the abandoned infant and the women dressed her warmly. They used one of Ottland’s old bottles to try feed the baby. She fussed at the nipple for several minutes before grasping it firmly in her tiny mouth and she drank greedily.

      “She’s so thin. How could anyone do such a thing?” Colleen looked at Mark, her face contorted in confusion.

      “It’s such a skinny baby,” Roland tried explaining the situation to Timothy as they rode out from Stavewood. “It looks just born.”

      “Before we ride all the way into town, I’d like to stop by the ranch first. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like the idea that Colleen was there alone. What if it’s a setup of some kind?” Timothy could not fathom how anyone would abandon an infant.

      Timothy Elgerson pulled the stallion into the road down to the farm with Roland behind him. Suddenly he heard the man call out.

      Timothy turned to see Roland slide from the back of his horse and step into the tree line. Slipping from his own saddle he stepped up beside him.

      In the undergrowth they had found Bernadette Shofield, her skirts covered in blood, her face white and eyes staring.

      “Damn it all,” Timothy cursed under his breath.

      “I’ll go for Ben.” Roland threw his leg over the saddle and kicked his horse to a run.

      Timothy Elgerson went down on one knee and pulled off his jacket, laying it gently over the body.

Chapter Seventy-Four

    
 
S
heriff Ben Carson sat in the kitchen at the Vancouver house and tried to explain what might happen to Bernadette’s child. Colleen paced the room with the infant held close and Emma wrung her hands in worry.

      “What will happen to her if you take her to the orphanage?” Colleen asked, her face furrowed with concern.

      “What happens to most orphans I would expect,” Ben said. “They’ll put her in the nursery there until someone decides to adopt her.”

      “What if we wanted to keep her?”

      Mark looked up from the table in shock. “What?” he blurted out.

       “What if you and I kept her, if we adopted her?” Colleen looked at him, surprised he hadn’t considered it already.

     “But,” he said, facing her, his face full of confusion. “She’s not mine.”

      “I know,” Colleen looked at him puzzled.

       Emma looked at the couple with concern. She knew what a sensitive situation Bernadette had been for Mark. She also knew how Colleen was with all of the children in the family. She didn’t think she should offer advice and hoped Timothy and Roland would hurry back. She knew they were in town with the coroner, but she wished they would get back now.

      “Could we keep her for tonight?” Colleen faced the sheriff, determination on her face.

      “I can’t see why not,” Ben scratched his head. “I’ll stop by late tomorrow, I might be able to get more information from the women at the orphanage in the meantime.”

      Mark ran his hand through his hair and paced the room.

      “Let’s go home,” Colleen announced. “She thanked Emma and walked out into the yard.

      “Colleen,” Mark hurried to catch her as she headed for the path between the properties.

      “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he said.

      “When we get home we’ll figure it out.” Colleen walked back to the ranch, the infant in her arms, and Mark followed shaking his head.

      “We can’t just keep her,” he argued late into the night in the kitchen at the ranch. “She’s not mine.”

      “You’ve said that already. I know she’s not yours.”

      “That baby is Bernadette’s baby. Don’t you understand? Bernadette is the whole reason I left Stavewood to begin with.”

      “She’s gone, how could she possibly hurt you now?” Colleen faced him, trying to make sense of his arguments. She had tucked the child away in a heavily padded drawer in the parlor where she could hear her if she cried while she and Mark talked.

      “I guess she can’t,” Mark scowled. “And Jude. She’s Jude Thomas’ daughter. Do you have any idea what would happen if he came looking for her here?”

      “Mark,” Colleen leaned across the table while he paced the room. “We already talked about the risk involved when we took over this land. He doesn’t even care about this child. If he did come around it would be for the ranch. The sheriff told us that if we adopt her no one ever has to know where she came from. If he came around it would not be for her.”

      “We can’t just adopt her!” he shouted.

      “Why not?” Colleen stood up suddenly and faced him.

      “She’s not my child,” he tried again.

      “I know that, you’ve said it a dozen times. If she were we wouldn’t have to adopt her.” Colleen took a deep breath and tried to calm her temper.

      “Don’t you see, Mark Elgerson? That child belongs to no one. Her mother died bringing her here. Did she bring her to you? Maybe, I don’t know, but she brought her here.

      “Do you have any idea what that little girl will face if we sent her to an orphanage? I do. I was in one of those places for a little while after my mother died and it’s horrible. If she grows up in a place like that as a girl she’ll always be fighting off someone who thinks they can use her just because she’s a female.

      “Look around you!” Her voice grew stronger. “We have everything, but it’s not enough to share with one person, one helpless baby?”

      Colleen creased her brow and put her hands on her hips. “Look at you, Mark Elgerson. You have that name because Timothy is a wonderful and generous man. He married your mother, and even after she was gone he raised you, like his own. You weren’t his son, but you are now. Where would you be if he had put you in an orphanage after your mother died?”

      “I wasn’t ready for a baby,” Mark sank into a chair.

      “What if I were expecting? You wouldn’t be ready for that?”

      “That’s not what I meant.” He buried his hands in his face and groaned.

      Colleen sighed. “Let’s go to bed.” She took his hand and led him, Mark following her reluctantly to bed.

      “I want to do what’s best,” Colleen whispered in the darkness.

      Mark lay on his back with his fingers laced together behind his head and stared at the ceiling in the dark room. “Goodnight, Colleen,” he said.

      As the light streamed across the kitchen table Mark Elgerson looked out over the yard through the big window. He saw Colleen walking in and out of the barns, busy with the morning milking. She could lie in bed as late as she liked in the morning but instead she was up while it was still dark, milking and whispering to the cows in the cold barns. He could see her footprints in the dew where she had crossed the lawn. Mark sighed deeply and paced the room.

      Colleen finished her milking and walked to the little clearing at the lower end of the ranch. There lay the small plot where they had buried her father and she opened the wooden gate slowly.

      “Da,” she spoke softly at the gravestone. “I found myself a wonderful man, but he’s got a blind spot, just like you did for Minnesota Yankees. They’re wonderful folks here and I need your help now. Mark has got to get past his blind spot and see that child. I miss you, Da, and I know you’ll help him find the right answer.” She took a deep breath and looked back towards the house.

     When the infant cried Mark set down his coffee and thought about going out to get Colleen, then changed his mind. If he went for her it wouldn’t seem right somehow, like she had won. He could take care of the baby himself, he thought. Then when she came back he’d try again to talk some sense into her.

      The newborn had kicked off her swaddling and she flailed her arms and legs frantically. When he went to lift her he could feel that she was soaking wet and he found the diapers on the side table and set to changing her. She was scrawny and spindly, not like any of the babies he had handled, but he’d learned when Louisa was little that they were fast creatures and he speedily changed her, pinning the diaper on snugly and wrapping her in a dry blanket.

      He took her into the kitchen capably and set some milk to warm on the wood stove. Mark sat down in the chair while he waited, the girl squirming and fussing.

      He put his elbows on his knees, holding the baby in his big hands and he thought about how tiny she was, much smaller than any infant he had ever held. He looked at her face for the first time closely and the child looked back calmly with large steel blue eyes. He thought she looked like a tiny bird and she moved her lips as though she were going to speak.

      Mark felt his chest tighten.

      “Why did you bring her here, Bernadette?” he said to the child. “You knew she wasn’t mine. You knew that. Why?”

      The baby looked at him seriously, trying to focus on his face and he leaned over her a bit closer.

      “I have it all planned out, don’t you see? I have the mill. It’s my future and I mean it to do well. And I have the ranch and I’ll want every extra minute for that. It’s going to take so much work. If we keep you here you’ll be up all night, I just know it. You’ll do what babies do, you’ll take over everything. I just wanted some time to put everything in place was all.”

      Looking back at him, the child moved her lips quickly and grabbed onto his thumb and sighed.

      “You’re worse than Colleen,” he felt a lump forming in his throat. “I have a terrible feeling that I’ve just lost my argument with you too, little girl.”

      Colleen stepped into the room silently, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m thinking you’re outnumbered now, Mark Elgerson.”

      He looked up at her with longing in his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to be ready,” he sighed.

      “Oh, Mark.” Colleen pulled a chair up beside him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and they sat looking at the infant together.

      “I know that if I had any sense at all I would not ask this, but I’m going to anyway,” Mark swallowed hard. “I figure you have a name all picked out.”

      Colleen kissed his cheek tenderly. “I was thinkin’ Mary Katherine, like my mother. We can call her Katie.”

      “Katie Elgerson,” Mark sighed deeply, looking at the child. “I suppose we’ll be seeing the adoption judge very soon.”

      Colleen kissed Mark’s shoulder and the couple sat watching the baby as she peered at them both seriously.

      “As soon as she’s on her feet though,” Mark cleared his throat, “she’s going to have to muck out the barns.”

      Colleen smiled and handed Mark the warmed bottle.

      He stood up, taking the bottle reluctantly, and offered it to the child who latched onto it hungrily. Colleen leaned in the doorway watching her young husband feed the child, shaking his head. She knew it was hard for him, but she knew he would be a wonderful father to the girl. She wiped away a tear and went to change out of her milking clothes.

      Mark and Colleen put their signatures to the paper in front of the judge in Billington City. Since there had been no birth certificate for the child, one had to be made up, naming Mary Katherine Elgerson officially the child of Mark and Colleen.

      “There will likely be rumors,” Mark said as they left the law offices.

      “I know,” Colleen nodded. “But we know the truth, that’s what matters.”

      Mark put his arm around his wife’s shoulders as they crossed the street to gather with the rest of the families in the downtown park.

      “I have something I want to do,” Mark kissed Colleen on the cheek and excused himself from the picnic. She looked after him puzzled and Rebecca and Emma shook their heads.

      Timothy spun the merry-go-round swiftly and the children clung to the ride squealing loudly.

      “Oh,” Rebecca called out. “That’s much too fast!”

      “I’ll catch them if they fly off,” Roland assured them with a wry smile and the women shook their heads.

      When Mark returned he set a box down on the lawn and Colleen leaned to look inside.

      In the center of the container sat a large pup, a soft bridled brown, speckled with black, a large white patch over one eye.

      “A puppy?” Colleen asked with surprise.

      “A male puppy,” Mark nodded. “I will not be outnumbered.”

      “You forgot to count all the cows and fillies in the barn,” she pointed out.

      “It only counts if they live in the house,” Mark countered.

      Rebecca laughed and looked inside the box. “He’s adorable!” She lifted the puppy from the container. “He looks like a fur covered cork!”

      “Cork!” Ottland grunted as he ran over to see the puppy and Rebecca set him down on the lawn.

      “Cork!” Phillip repeated. “Cork.”

      “That’s his name?” Louisa ruffled the puppy’s fur.

      “I guess so,” Mark laughed.

      “Daddy,” Ottland pointed at the puppy.

      “No!” everyone yelled.

      The child puckered his face and turned, pointing to Roland. “Daddy?” He looked around at the families.

      “Yes!” they cheered, Roland bowing with great relief.