Authors: Linda Ford
She stroked the baby's cheek trying to trigger the sucking reflex. She lost track of how long she sat there praying and trying to get the baby to swallow. She grew weary, discouraged, thought of admitting defeat, then remembered Hatcher's promise to pray, felt his quiet strength uphold her.
The sun came around and shone in the west window, falling across the baby's face. The infant blinked, sneezed and swallowed. Her eyes widened as the milk slid down her throat and warmed her empty stomach. She drew her cheeks in and tried to suck. Slowly, she managed to down two ounces then fell asleep.
“Thank you, God. Thank you.” Tears streamed down Kate's face. She held the baby longingly. But the afternoon was slipping away and she had much to do. She put the baby in the cradle, covered her warmly and headed to the kitchen. She swept the floor and washed it, changing the water twice before she got to the end of the room.
The baby needed to be fed every two hours until she gained strength. Kate put away the cleaning supplies and prepared another bottle. This time the baby knew what to do when the bottle went into her mouth. Again, she fell asleep after two ounces. She had wanted to bathe the baby but feared she was too weak. Far more important to get her to eat and gain some strength.
Kate glanced at the clock. She needed to get home to her children. But she didn't want to leave the baby until Alice woke up. She tiptoed into the bedroom. Alice looked so peaceful. So thin. She hated to wake her but Dougie and Mary could not be left alone.
“Alice.” She touched the woman's shoulder. “Alice, wake up.”
Alice dragged herself from sleep and stared at Kate. She struggled to sit up. “How long did I sleep?”
“All afternoon. Are you feeling better?”
“I think so. Where's Annie? I don't hear her.” She scrambled to her feet and swayed.
“Annie's just fine.” The perfect name for such a fragile baby. “I got her to take a bottle. You keep her on cow's milk and I expect she'll do fine.”
Kate made Alice tea and left with instruction to feed the baby every two hours. And then she hurried home, already late.
She didn't see the children as she pulled to a halt before the house. The tractor stood idle at the edge of the field. She raced into the house. “Dougie. Mary.” Nothing but nerve-scratching silence.
She dashed outside, headed for the barn, spared a glance at the windmill ladder as she ran past. Thankfully no children clung to its rungs.
She called their names in the musty silence of the barn and got only the rustling of mice overhead for answer.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She struggled to fill her bursting lungs as she raced from the barn. The cows grazed placidly in the pasture.
“Dougie. Mary,” she called.
“Over here.” It was not a child's voice. She turned toward the sound and hurried past the corrals. Hatcher and the children hunkered down in a tight circle.
“Momma, we found a baby rabbit,” Dougie called.
“I didn't know where you were. You should have stayed where I could find you.” She scowled at Hatcher. Her fear and frustration made her sound cross. Well, she was. It had been downright frightening to have her children missing if only for a few minutes. After an afternoon spent fearing baby Annie would die in her arms, she'd panicked. “What was I to think?”
Hatcher pushed to his feet, dusted his knees and straightened. “Thought it best to keep them occupied until you got home. How's the baby?”
“She started to suck. I think she'll make it.”
With a quick nod, Hatcher headed for the tractor.
Kate thought to call him back, tell him more about the baby, thank him for watching the children, but she sensed from the set of his shoulders that he didn't want to listen to her chatter at this moment.
“Look, Momma,” Mary said.
Kate stared at her daughter holding the tiny rabbit. “You aren't afraid of it?”
“No, Hatcher said it was scared so I needed to calm it down.”
“Can we keep it?” Dougie asked.
“Wild young things don't like to be caged up.”
“But Momma,” Dougie pleaded. “If we let it go who will take care of it? It's just a baby.”
“You have to take care of babies,” Mary said in a voice wise beyond her years.
“Where would you keep it?” Kate asked, already half-swayed by their arguments.
“We could use one of the broody houses,” Mary said, speaking of the little houses where Kate put the hens with eggs to set. Two of them were in use right now but there was a third she didn't need.
“I suppose you can if you both promise to make sure it always has feed and water.”
“We will,” they chorused.
Permission granted, they hurried to take care of the rabbit.
Kate stared at Hatcher on the tractor. She'd been rude to him when all he'd done was watch the children and she guessed her comments would feel like an attack on him.
She must apologize.
But when she waved at him to come in for supper, he circled his hand to indicate he'd make another round.
She dropped her hand and watched, a little worried she'd offended him so badly that he felt the need to avoid her.
She set aside a plate of food for him. She ate with the children, only half-aware of their conversation as she listened for the tractor to stop. They finished but still he didn't come to the door.
She cleaned up the kitchen, paused several times to glance outside. He continued going round and round. Was he trying to finish the field, or trying to think up an excuse to explain how he had to leave?
She grabbed milk pails and headed for the barn. She'd apologize, explain her alarm over the children, make him see he didn't deserve her anger.
She milked the cows to the rumble of the tractor. Did he plan to work right through till dark? She should be happy if he did. Glad her crops would soon be in the ground. Glad, however, was not how she felt.
She hurt for the unkindness she'd spoken, worried he might leave because of it.
She did not want him to leave. And it had nothing to do with her crop. He would go. She would stay. That was the plain and simple fact of it. She pressed her head into the cow's warm flank and took calming breaths.
She carried the milk to the kitchen, left some not separated to take to baby Annie in the morning. Still the tractor growled on. Hatcher's food grew cold and sticky on the plate.
The children hurried through their chores so they could spend time with their rabbit. She let them play later than usual.
The western sky streaked with orange and purple and gold then turned navy before the tractor finally stopped its incessant roar.
Kate scraped the food off the plate into a fry pan and set it to warm. Through the dusk, she saw Hatcher head to the pump where he drank deeply then splashed water over his head and scrubbed his hands and face. Sally had said hobos were dirty but Hatcher wasn't. He was almost meticulous in washing before he ate. And each day he wore a clean shirt and trousers. He had a spare of each, which he washed out at night. He'd consistently refused her offer of Jeremiah's things.
His meal warmed as he finished washing. She hung a towel outside the door for him and as he dried, she scooped the food back to the plate.
“It looked more appetizing a few hours ago,” she said as she handed it to him.
“Wanted to get in a few more rounds.”
“I appreciate it but you don't have to work so hard.”
He sank to the step and ate with the dedication of a hungry man.
She sat on the step beside him. “Hatcher, I want to apologize for being cross when I got home this afternoon. I wasn't angry at you. I appreciate that you kept an eye on the children until I got home. I was just worried about them. Truly, I'm sorry I spoke the way I did.”
“Not a problem.”
She settled into an uneasy silence. He'd readily, quickly accepted her apology. Almost dismissed it. What had she expected? She didn't know, only knew she wanted more. So much more that it parched the inside of her stomach.
“Glad to hear the Sandstrum baby is doing better.”
“I couldn't get her to suck for the longest time. I thoughtâ” Her voice caught on unshed tears. “I thought she was going to die.” A sob escaped.
Hatcher put his empty plate down. “But she didn't?” He smelled of good earth, the fumes from the tractor and the fried pork she'd cooked for him.
“No.” Suddenly she had to tell him about her afternoon. She began with her concern about Alice and continued until she shared her excitement when Annie started to swallow. “I prayed and prayed and finally she took a swallow and suddenly seemed to realize she was hungry. I think you must have been praying, too.”
She should go inside but she remained seated beside him. She wanted this moment of comfort to continue.
“I was praying.” His words were soft.
Shep sprang to his feet and barked.
She stared down the road at an approaching vehicle. “Doyle,” she murmured. That put an end to a peaceful moment. “What's got into him that suddenly he starts driving out here midweek?”
“Maybe afraid you're managing too well without him.”
She snorted. “He'd like me to be the lady of his castle. He wants me to sell my farm.”
“Is that going to happen?”
Suddenly everything was clear as the sky above them.
“No.” She was genuinely fond of Doyle but not so much as to give up the security and safety of her farm. If he would offer to let her keep it, perhaps let someone else run itâ¦But for Doyle life fit into neat little cubbyholes. There was no slot for his wife owning a farm of her own.
Doyle stopped his car behind Kate's truck and climbed out. “Isn't this cozy?”
Hatcher and Kate pushed to their feet. “Hello to you, too, Doyle,” Kate said.
Hatcher started to leave. Doyle said, “Hatcher Jones, you should probably stick around for this.”
Kate's spine stiffened at the way Doyle spoke to Hatcher but before she could protest, Doyle spoke again.
“I thought there was something familiar about you. You're that man from Loggieville, aren't you?”
Hatcher stared out at the seeded field.
“I remember the case well. Don't suppose you thought it would catch up to you here. You didn't take into account that lawyers all over the country watched the proceedings with keen interest. Would you get away with it or not? I didn't think you would, but you certainly proved me wrong.”
Kate watched the stiffness return to Hatcher's shoulders. She hadn't even realized it was gone until now. “What's this all about, Doyle?”
“Your hobo is a murderer.”
Anger bolted the full length of her body at Doyle's cruel accusation. “If that's the case, why is he walking around a free man? I thought there was a death penalty for murder.”
“He weaseled his way out of it.”
She ground her words past the anger twisting her throat. “I see. What you're saying is a court of law found him not-guilty?”
“Couldn't convict him when no one was willing to tell the truth. They were all afraid of him. Afraid he'd get to them and make them pay if they spoke out.”
“But, Doyle, you're a lawyer. Don't you believe in the justice of our legal system?”
Doyle laughed. “It has certain flaws.”
“Yes, but if he was convicted of murder, wouldn't his accusers know they'd be safe? After all, he'd be dead.” She shuddered at the idea.
“Things can happen.”
“Men can be innocent.”
Doyle stepped closer to Kate. “Are you saying you believe he's innocent? You don't even know what happened?”
“I don't need to. I've seen Hatcher.”
Doyle was inches away. “What has he done to you? Kate, you pack your things right now. And the children's. You're moving into town. You can sell the farm immediately. Just yesterday, someone was asking about land. Willing to pay handsomely for it. Hurry now. I'll wait here.”
Kate crossed her arms across her chest. “I'm not going anyplace. I'm perfectly safe here. And it's time you got it through your head that I do not intend to sell the farm. Ever.”
“Kate, be sensible. Now is not the time to be stubborn.”
She leaned forward. “Doyle, you picked the wrong time and the wrong place to order me about.”
Doyle backed up, held up his hands. “I guess I came on a bit strong. But I'm worried about you and the children. This man⦔ He turned to glower at Hatcher.
But Hatcher was gone. Kate caught a glimpse of him disappearing around the barn. “Hatcher,” she yelled. “I've got fifty acres to seed yet.” She started after him, needing to persuade him to stay but Doyle grabbed her elbow.