Dillon, page 2
“How bad?”
“It’ll mend. Just got to get me home. Who’s with John?”
“Pete.”
Mrs. Jones moved from the place where she’d been riveted since Dillon had entered. He saw that she was with child. Why wasn’t she traveling with her Mr. Jones?
“Where’s your husband?”
Mrs. Jones pressed her hands to her rounded stomach. Her eyes widened. “He kicked.”
“Your husband kicked?”
Maude laughed. “She means the baby. That’s good news, Abby. Praise God.”
Dillon waited; his gaze unblinking as he watched this woman. When she didn’t answer his question, he asked it again. “Where’s your husband?”
“He died of a fever. Four months ago.”
A widow. She must have had plans. “And where were you going?”
“What?”
“You got off the stage at Logan Crossing. There ain’t much there. So, I assume you had plans. What were they?” The stagecoach went north from town toward Fort Calgary. That might have been her intended destination. Or she might have relatives in the area.
“I… my plan…”
If she had a plan, it shouldn’t be so hard to say what it was.
“Dillon,” Maude’s voice held a warning note. “I know all I need to know about her.”
Maude was far too trusting.
Mrs. Jones stood straighter. Did a flash of pain cross her face before she masked it? If he understood correctly, they’d both been tossed from the wagon. He knew that could kill a person. She appeared to be in one piece, but she must surely be hurt.
Her expression smoothed, erasing any hint of pain. “I was planning to go to Fort Calgary. Saw an ad for someone to work in the café.”
“So why didn’t you buy a ticket to there?”
“I did.” Before he could question her on that, she continued. “Traded it in to buy myself something to eat.”
“Huh.” It could be a false story, but he knew what it was like to be down on your luck. He was eighteen when his ran out. He’d needed help from a stranger. The very same stranger who’d rescued this woman. He wanted to be suspicious and wary but was finding it harder with every passing moment.
Maude spoke, distracting him from his thoughts. “Good thing she agreed to come as I’m going to need some help while this leg heals.”
There was a time he trusted easily but that time was past. He wasn’t about to let down his guard because of a young woman who seemed in need of help. He must make sure she didn’t take advantage of Maude and John.
Mrs. Jones moaned and grabbed at her middle.
Dillon stared at her. “Tell me you aren’t going to have the baby right now.”
2
Abby pressed her hands to her stomach and took a deep breath, willing away the pain grabbing her. Aware of Mr. Dillon Brown’s unblinking gaze, she straightened.
“Of course not.” The baby wasn’t due for a month. She knew exactly when because she’d only done it once. Only once had she let that man sweet-talk her into something that left her in this situation.
The pain in her middle was due as much to the lies she was telling as the effects of being tossed from the wagon. A widow she wasn’t. And as to plans? She’d only hoped to get as far from home as possible and find a job, or at least a place she could shelter. She was determined to do everything in her power to give her baby a future unmarred by the stigma of having an unwed mother.
“Good to hear.” Assured the baby wouldn’t be making an appearance in this cabin, Dillon turned his attention back to Maude. “I’m going to have to find the wagon to get you out of here.”
At his voice, the baby kicked something fierce. It was all she could do not to grunt. Come to think of it, the baby had started kicking when that man had first spoken. Was the baby protesting at the sound of his voice? What did the baby detect? It sent shivers up Abby’s spine. She’d be cautious around this man. Around every man.
If she’d been alone, she would have crooned to the infant, assured him she would keep him safe. Singing always calmed him. Instead, she murmured, “Hush, little one. Everything is going to be fine.”
Dillon’s gaze jerked to hers. Brown hair peeked out from his wet cowboy hat, but his eyes were a deep, deep blue. And full of surprise and uncertainty.
Of course, he struggled to know how to deal with this situation. Just as she did.
“Mr. Brown—”
“Please, I’m just a cowboy. Call me Dillon.”
“Fine. Dillon, I understand your caution, but I assure you all I want is to provide a safe place for my baby. I have no other motives.”
Their gazes held for a heartbeat. Each measuring the other. She was the first to look away, fearing he might be able to see the deception she meant to live.
For the baby. She pressed her hands to the mound that was the reason for her fabrication. The only way to protect the wee one was to claim a dead husband. Otherwise, he or she would forever carry the stigma of Abby’s mistakes. Lord, we’ve discussed this. I know it’s wrong to deceive people, but I know no other way to give him a fair start in life. She’d read over and over the story in the Bible of King David pretending to be out of his mind to protect himself. He’d lived a lie, yet God had protected and blessed him. Lord, protect me and the baby.
As an afterthought, she added, Thank You for sending Maude along to offer me a place of refuge.
Maude moaned.
Abby took a step, meaning to hurry to the woman’s side and do what she could to ease her pain, but her hip caught, and she tumbled forward.
Dillon caught her. And lifted her in his arms. “Seems you might have some injuries too.” He carried her to Maude’s side. Looked at the narrow bed.
“There’s not room for both of us. Put me down and I’ll be fine.” Part of her tensed to be in the arms of a stranger. Another part thought how strong he was. A person could feel protected with him around.
Ha. So much for being on guard around men.
He released her and she sank to the floor, more out of a need to avoid looking at him than any weakness on her part. She would never again trust a man.
Maude tried to sit up. “Are you sure you’re all right, Abby? You had quite a fall.”
“I’m fine. What about you? I heard you groan.”
“I just moved too sudden like. I have to remember to take my time.” Maude’s hand rested on Abby’s shoulder. “Things could be much worse. We’re safe and dry and Dillon will get us out of here.”
Dillon stood over them. “I should go find that wagon.”
“No point in going out in the rain. Sit down and wait.” Maude said.
Dillon backed away.
“Dillon, relax. I’m not going anywhere until the rain stops.” Maude’s words carried authority. “Sit.”
He started to sit by the door.
“Over here,” Maude said. “Next to the bed.”
Abby watched as he froze, half seated and remained that way for a second.
He looked at Maude. Abby couldn’t see Maude’s expression, but Dillon sighed and sat down at the foot of the bed. Abby leaned forward to hide a grin at how Dillon reluctantly obeyed.
“That’s better,” Maude said. “You two might as well learn to like each other.”
Abby opened her mouth to protest.
Dillon shook his head. “If you think…” He didn’t finish.
Not that he needed to put what he meant into words. Abby was carrying another man’s child. If he knew the true circumstances—well, it was a good thing he didn’t.
The baby kicked. Her stomach muscles tightened. Hard.
She groaned and leaned over.
“You said you weren’t having the baby here.” Dillon sounded alarmed.
“I’m not. It’s too early.”
Maude rubbed her shoulder. “Relax. Take a deep breath or two. I expect your muscles are pretty sore.” She prayed for Abby and the baby to be safe.
Abby leaned her head on her knees and slowed her breathing.
She jerked her head up and stared at the door. “Did I hear something?”
Maude’s hand squeezed her shoulder. Dillon was already on his feet and grabbed the rifle he’d set near the door.
Someone or something shoved on the door. Grunted and shoved again, moving the crate far enough to allow someone…or something… to enter.
Abby could feel her heartbeat in her throat and drumming in her ears as she waited for whatever to enter. If it was a bear, they would be mauled to death with no hope of escape.
A heavily bearded man, dressed in buckskin from head to toe and smelling like a wild animal forced his way in. Water dripped from him.
Abby’s heart continued to thunder in her ears. This man looked marginally less dangerous than a bear.
“Well, howdy. Didn’t expect to be findin’ a party. This here cabin belongs to me and a friend. That makes you trespassers.” He waved a long-nosed pistol at Dillon and then at Abby. “Put yer firearm down if’n you don’t want to see yer wife shot.”
His wife?
Maude squeezed Abby’s shoulder and whispered. “Let him believe it for your safety.”
Dillon slowly lowered his gun to the floor and backed away.
“Sonny boy, go sit with your women folk.”
Dillon edged back and eased down at Abby’s side. His shoulder pressed to hers. “Be calm and he won’t hurt us,” he whispered.
She nodded. How could Dillon know that? He couldn’t. But nevertheless, his advice was good. She’d appear calm. But inside, fear and panic raged. This was not how she’d envisioned her future. Maybe leaving home and heading west had not been a good decision.
Maude whispered, “If my leg weren’t broke…”
Abby looked at Dillon and smiled ever so slightly at Maude’s feisty tone. He acknowledged her humor with a quirk of his eyebrows.
“’Nough jawin’. Now let’s see what goodies we gots here.” He kicked one of Abby’s valise’s forward and opened the latches.
She tensed. All she had left in the world was contained in those three small bags and she was loath to lose it.
Dillon pressed his hand to hers where it lay on her drawn-up knees. It rested there a minute and then he pulled back.
She understood his silent message to not stir up trouble.
The intruder—even if it was his cabin—began tossing out her belongings. The dress she’d made before she left home. She meant to wear it after the baby was born. A shawl that had been her mother’s. She ground her teeth together. If he damaged that, she might not be able to stay seated as if it didn’t matter. And then her other things. Right down to her unmentionables.
He held them up and giggled in glee. “Wooee. Fine underthings. Fine indeed.”
Abby’s cheeks burned.
Then with a grunt, he kicked her things aside and tackled the valise that was mostly baby items. He pulled out the little night gowns and sweaters she had labored over late at night. Held them up and then looked at Abby.
“You havin’ a wee thing?”
She gave a slight nod.
“Well, ain’t that sweet.” He shifted his gaze to Dillon. “Bet yer mighty proud.”
“You’d be right.” Dillon’s voice actually sounded like he was about to be a proud papa.
“Thank you,” she whispered under her breath.
The bewhiskered man continued to paw through her belongings, leaving them wet and soiled.
He grew tired of doing so and turned his attention to the crate of supplies. “Well, well, well. This is more like it. Somethin’ a man can use.” He took out a slab of cheese then tossed aside a tin of baking soda. The can split open and spilled its contents.
Maude reared up, even though it must have caused her a lot of pain. “Have a care with my goods. I have a bunch to feed back home.”
“Is that a fact?” He examined the sack of oats. “I can use this. Getting low on supplies, meself.”
“You scoundrel.” Maude was clearly angry.
Abby leaned closer to Dillon. “Good thing she’s injured, or she’d tie into him like a wild cat.”
Dillon chuckled.
The other man faced them. “Now what in tarnation is so blasted amusin’? Ya think I’m playing games and I don’t mean business?”
“Not at all,” Dillon said. “My wife—”
Abby hoped the other man wouldn’t hear the hesitation in Dillon’s voice.
“She was simply saying Maude here might not be so compliant if she wasn’t injured.”
“Ya all seem to have forgotten my friend here.” He patted the gun then lifted it and aimed it straight at Dillon. “Let’s see how funny she thinks it is when I shoot you.”
* * *
Dillon shot his arms into the air. “I’m unarmed.” All amusement at Mrs. Jones’s comment vanished.
“Dillon.” She grabbed his knee and moaned mightily. “The baby.”
He looked her way. She turned her head to face him and winked.
In a flash, he knew she meant to distract the man.
The trapper scrambled to his feet, the gun hanging at his side. “Ya gonna have the babe now? Here?” He swallowed audibly and inched toward the door. “I think I better check on me mule.” He ducked outside. The half whinny, half hee-haw of a mule greeted the man and then the clop of the pair departing.
Dillon hurried to push the door shut and put the crate against it. Then he looked at Mrs. Jones and laughed. “What made you think pretending to have the baby would scare him away?”
Her eyes sparkled. Her face wreathed in amusement. “I didn’t know if it would, but it was all I could think of that might distract him from shooting you.” She shuddered. “I think he’s crazy.”
Maude chuckled. “Those old mountain men tend to be a bit touched in the head. Abby, that was very clever of you. I think you saved Dillon’s life.” She shifted her gaze to Dillon.
Uh oh. Maude had something blossoming in her head. And it would involve him. Hoping to keep one step ahead of her, he spoke to Mrs. Jones. “Thank you for your quick thinking. You probably saved my life.”
“You’re welcome but what did you expect? After all, I’m your wife.” She laughed heartily. Seeing he wasn’t quite so amused, she sobered though her eyes sparkled. “Sorry, I was only joshing.” Her eyes dulled. “It’s just been so much to deal with in the last few hours.” She lowered her forehead to her knees and a sob shook her shoulders.
Dillon looked to Maude, silently pleading for help.
She patted Mrs. Jones’s shoulder. “It’s all right. You’ve been through a lot. Soon we’ll be home, and things will be better. Dillon, don’t just stand there. Put my purchases back in the crate.”
The cheese had been left behind. The baking soda was beyond saving. Dillon gathered the few things the man had tossed out and returned them to the crate. Mrs. Jones’s belongings lay scattered about. Should he pick them up?
“I’ll do my things.”
He stepped aside to get out of her way. Even as she bent over, he could see how red the tips of her ears were. For some reason that tickled him. He sucked in his lips to hold back a chuckle. But a sound escaped.
She slowly straightened and fixed him with a disbelieving look. “It’s not funny.”
He shook his head.
She studied him with narrowed eyes. “Maybe I should have let that man shoot you.” She returned to retrieving her things and stuffing them in the valise.
He hooted with laughter.
Sniffing in indignation, she stood straight. She wasn’t very tall. Just came to his chin. She tipped her head back to scowl at him. Her lips quivered. Her gaze left him then returned. A spark flared in her eyes. And then another. She snickered. Then laughed.
Something in her gaze made him want to lengthen the moment. Then she blinked. All amusement fled and she turned her back as she continued to repack her valises. She handled the baby things tenderly.
He thought he heard her sniff. And looked to Maude hoping she would know what to do.
She tsked as if to say he was blind not to understand.
He shrugged. Obviously, there was no understanding a woman. He already knew that. Not that he’d had much experience these last seven years. And before that, well, he’d been treated poorly by a girl, but they were both young and stupid so he couldn’t exactly hold her responsible.
“Abby could use a little sympathy at this time.” Maude’s words rang with admonition.
“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” He shrugged. What could he say? “Mrs. Jones, I’m sorry about your situation.”
She pressed her hands to her stomach. “First of all, I prefer if you call me Abby. But let me be clear. I will never regret this wee one.”
He’d meant about her being a widow. “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.”
Color stained her cheeks. She stared at the floor.
“Dillon,” Maude called. “I think it’s stopped raining. Why don’t you go find the wagon?”
He reluctantly left the cabin. Was Maude safe with Abby? Sure, Abby had made him laugh a few times. She seemed to have a quick sense of humor. She appeared to be brave in facing her widowhood, the accident, and even the trapper. But there was something very odd about her reaction to his offer of sympathy. But he didn’t know what it was.
3
Abby took her time closing the satchels. She’d said the wrong thing. Of course, Dillon’s sympathy was over the loss of her so-called husband, but she’d immediately thought he’d referred to a baby out of wedlock. Had he realized why she’d reacted the way she did? She couldn’t face Maude for fear the older woman would have understood.
Rather than close the valise that held the baby things, she lifted up the tiny sweater she’d made in white yarn. She’d purposely chosen a difficult lacy diamond pattern. Every evening, in the quiet of her room, she’d labored on this among other things. Promising herself and the baby that she would do everything in her power to protect him or her from the stigma of not having a father. Now she might have blown her chances with a slip of her tongue.
