Chapter 9 #2
They continued on, past the hardware store and a doctor’s office. They then crossed the street where a small brick bank stood on the corner. Beyond that lay an open field. She followed Nathaniel through that field to the jail, where a horse and buggy stood out front.
“Just let me turn my horse into the corral and then we’ll go,” he said.
She nodded and stood in the warm morning sunshine, trying to ignore the feeling of several pairs of curious eyes gazing her way.
A middle-aged man wearing well-worn dungarees and faded suspenders emerged from the livery, eyed her for several moments, and then returned to his chores.
Across the street and down a short way, she saw a man emerge from the doctor’s office and put a sign on his door.
She couldn’t read it from where she stood.
In the near distance, somewhere behind the sheriff’s building, the clang of metal on metal echoed dully in the air.
A smithy. Nervous anxiety filled her, but she tried to hide it, to pretend she wasn’t worried about a thing, clasping her hands together in front of her when, truthfully, she wanted to hide from the curious glances.
She wanted to hide from what would happen when the entire town learned the truth about her and what she’d done, giving up her child like that. Hide from—
A buggy emerged from the side of the building and she turned.
Nathaniel sat on its small bench seat—smaller than the one she had ridden in with Lillian the day before when they went to the orphanage.
This one was older and a little bit worse for wear, the top a bit faded, with an open tear along the side of the padded bench seat beneath Nathaniel.
He pulled the horse to a halt and then jumped down, gesturing for her to come around.
He helped her into the buggy and strode in front of gray mare, giving her a stroke down her muzzle before climbing back in.
The seat tilted precariously and she reached for the thin railing beside her to keep from sliding into him.
“Sorry, it’s an old buggy,” he said. “But I couldn’t take my mother’s. She has some visiting to do this morning.” He gestured with his chin toward the livery. “Borrowed one of Jackson’s horses to get us there.”
“I could’ve made my way to the orphanage on my own,” she murmured. “I feel guilty taking you away from your work.”
“You’re not,” he replied. He gave the reins a slap and a low whistle. He glanced at her as he pulled the wagon past the livery stable, lifting a hand to the man in dungarees standing outside watching.
Several minutes passed before he spoke again.
This morning she paid more attention to her surroundings.
A few miles beyond the grassy plains, she spied rolling hills, but here the land was flat, covered with a blend of long and short grasses.
Occasionally she spied what she believed were juniper trees, but she didn’t recognize the other kind she saw with drooping branches and yellow flowers.
“Those are honey mesquite,” he said, glancing at her. “The wood’s good for smoking meat or cooking fires.”
As they drove past one, she noticed its unique aroma. “It smells good.” Why hadn’t she noticed yesterday? She knew why. She’d been so focused on her own inner thoughts, she hadn’t paid attention.
Another long silence ensued. She tried not to feel his judgement, if that’s what his silence meant. She watched the ground pass by, a mix of sand and dirt. Strange shrubs dotted the trail. A few minutes later, a long-eared rabbit shot out from one of them and raced away.
“Jackrabbit,” he said. “They’re fast, faster than this mare would be at an outright run.”
She glanced at him but said nothing.
He sighed. “Chloe, since so much time has passed since you … since the time the baby was placed at the orphanage in Nebraska, and you have no documents to prove she’s yours, perhaps you’ll understand if your maternal claim of the child might come into question.”
She turned to him, eyebrows raised. The upper part of his face was shadowed by his hat. “You don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said, glancing at her. “I’m just saying that you may have to answer some questions that Bethany has before she’ll turn the child over.”
She hadn’t thought of that. Her heart sank. After all, Eliza wouldn’t know who she was. As far as the child was concerned, she would be leaving with a complete stranger, if she was allowed to take the girl today, that is. Tears filled her eyes and she quickly blinked them back.
“If it’s her,” she murmured.
“Try not to worry,” he said. “Even if you can’t prove that you’re the child’s mother, but you can tell somehow she’s truly yours—”
A thought suddenly struck and she turned to him, heart leaping with hope. “I can! She was born with a birthmark on her left shoulder blade.” Her heart pounded. “Will that be enough to make a positive claim?”
He glanced at her and gave a small shrug. “Should be. That may prove something, but you might still need to make an adoption claim—”
“But why?” Chloe gasped in dismay. “The birthmark—”
“Might be common knowledge. Even if you are her true mother, it wouldn’t hurt to have adoption papers in hand, just in case someone, one day, makes a claim on her as well.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Like who?”
He turned to her, his gaze dark and serious. “Like her father.”
At the thought of Everett learning he had a daughter, her stomach twisted again. “Of … of course,” she stammered.
“Either way, if she’s yours, I believe you’ll take good care of her.”
“Oh I will,” she said. “I promise.” Yes, she could make promises, but she had no idea how she would keep them. They couldn’t stay in the cabin behind the boarding house forever. “It’s kind of your mother to let me stay for a while.”
He said nothing more for a while as they made their way along a two-track path that would eventually take them to the orphanage. His next words startled her.
“I don’t much care for being lied to, Chloe,” he said. His voice wasn’t harsh but firm. “I don’t know why you just didn’t tell us the truth from the beginning.”
“I should have,” she confessed. “I’m sorry.”
He was quiet for a while before he spoke again. “It’s not easy for me to trust.” Another pause. “I trusted someone once and I was betrayed. Someone got hurt.”
She glanced at his strong profile, the firmness of his lips, his eyes constantly searching the landscape. “I’m sorry,” she said once more.
He spoke softly. “About five years ago, my father was the town sheriff and I was his deputy. A man about my age came to town. Said his name was Charles and he was looking for a job. I befriended him and convinced my father to take him on, to hire him for odd jobs. He had a lot of questions, showed a lot of interest in the law and the life of a law man, and then one day, he just up and disappeared.”
She looked at him. “What happened to him?”
“Turns out he rode with an outlaw gang that was gathering information about our town and ended up trying to rob the bank.”
Her heart started to pound and a tingle ran down her spine. Of course, there were plenty of outlaws and gangs still roaming and wreaking havoc on the plains. That didn’t mean they were—
“I guess you could say I found it harder to trust people after that.” He glanced at her. “It’s always better to tell the truth about things, no matter how difficult they might be.”