Chapter 5

5

L orinda could walk just fine, but Mr. Vine lifted her, blankets and all, from the bed of the wagon. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and held on while he headed toward the gate in the white picket fence. Strange to see one out here in frontier Colorado. She had seen plenty where she grew up, but they surrounded neat houses not run-down shacks like the one where she existed. She never learned what it meant to really live until she married Mike.

The red-haired cowboy had already jumped down from his horse and tied the reins to the railing of the fence. He opened the gate and held it wide for them.

"Thank you for all you did, Rusty. You can go on back to your chores now." The rancher's voice rumbled in her ear pressed against his muscular chest.

Since the wind had picked up during their ride, a shiver raced down her backbone. He pulled her even closer in his arms, and his warmth seeped into her. Restless movements by her baby kept her stomach from settling down. At least, she thought it was the baby that caused the uneasy feeling.

"Boss, you need some help?" Jack stepped lively down the front porch steps.

"Yes." Mr. Vine nodded toward the wagon. "Get all that unloaded, and let Terrell know to come up and help Mrs. Oleson. We'll all eat in the main house tonight, since so many of the hands have gone into town for their day off. No need to have two separate meals."

Lorinda tried to figure out what he meant by that. Was the ranch so big they had a cook for the bunkhouse? She hadn't realized how large Mr. Vine's holdings were. The piece of land she and Mike owned must look pretty paltry to him, even though it had seemed huge to her.

"Oh, you poor dear." A tall woman stood with both hands clasped under her ample bosom.

Lorinda figured the woman with a kind face must be his housekeeper or cook. If there was a Mrs. Vine, where was she? Shouldn't she be welcoming a guest into her home, even if the person arrived uninvited? She'd always heard that hospitality was part of the code of the west.

The older woman held the door open until Mr. Vine was completely inside. Then she shut it against the cold wind.

"I wasn't sure where you'd want to put Mrs. Sullivan, but since Jake told me about her condition, I thought maybe she wouldn't want to climb the stairs. I made up the room next to yours down here. Hope you don't mind."

Lorinda glanced up in time to catch a quick scowl on his face. What is that all about? "You can put me down now." She tried to pull away from the man.

His arms tightened and his gaze connected with hers. A sad smile flitted across his face. "I'll just take you in here."

While Mrs. Oleson held the door open, he stepped into a very feminine room decorated with pinks and blues and lots of flowers and ruffles. Lorinda knew wealthy people had nicer things than she ever did, but she'd never imagined a place filled with this much beauty. The flowers on the striped wallpaper matched those in the long curtains, the bedspread, and pillow covers, surrounding her with serenity. She'd never lived in a house with wallpaper, and the only curtains they'd had were those she'd made herself. When she was a girl, she covered the often-broken glass by tacking feed sacks over it. But she'd made the gingham curtains in the cabin she shared with Mike by just hemming them top and bottom. She'd never seen ruffles and lace used for decorations.

Actually, she'd never had ruffles and lace on any of her clothing either. And here she was in her flannel nightdress, Mike's union suit, his too-large robe, and wrapped in blankets. At that thought, she realized she didn't belong in this room...or even in this house. If only she had somewhere else to go. Anywhere but here.

Mr. Vine lowered her gently onto the bed with the turned-back covers. When he stood up straight, he focused on his housekeeper. "This is fine. It's high time we started using this room. I'll let you get Mrs. Sullivan settled. She had a rough night and early morning. She might want to rest awhile."

He spoke as though she wasn't in the room even though she was staring up at him. The man had been good to her, but his highhandedness galled her. She didn't dare express that opinion. At least, not until she knew what was going to happen to her and her child.

"Of course." Mrs. Oleson watched him exit, then turned back toward Lorinda. "I know it's cold out there. Would you like some good hot coffee or tea to warm you up? Maybe some toast or scrambled eggs? I'm sure you haven't eaten since last night. Right?"

Lorinda wondered if this was the way a mother would have treated her. She remembered so few things about her own. "Tea would be wonderful. And now that we're here, I do feel hungry."

"First, let's get you settled." The kind woman helped remove the scratchy blankets from around her.

When Lorinda relaxed on the sheet covering the soft mattress, Mrs. Oleson pulled the top sheet and two quilts up over her. Everything was made of finer material than any she had ever touched. Smoother...softer.

"Thank you." Lorinda's eyelids felt heavy, but she worked hard to keep them open.

"I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail, as my mother used to say." With a smile, the woman hurried out the door and closed it gently behind her.

Now that she was alone, Lorinda decided to close her eyes for a little while to rest...just until Mrs. Oleson returned with her food. Instead, exhaustion quickly dragged her deep into slumber.

Flames leapt around her. The smell of acrid smoke filled her nostrils, almost choking away her breath. She had to get away, but no matter how hard she tried to move, some kind of force held her back. She called out to Mike to come help her, but no one answered. Over and over she called until her voice was about to give out, and the flames crept closer. When she'd about given up all hope, the click of the door opening aroused her from her terrible dream.

"Here, now." Carrying a tray, Mrs. Oleson bustled through the doorway.

Steam curled from the spout of a china teapot ringed with pink roses, and the smell of warm biscuits wafted toward Lorinda. Her stomach let out a loud growl signaling her hunger. She blushed, hoping Mrs. Oleson didn't hear the sound. If she did, the kind woman never mentioned it.

After setting the tray on a table beside the window, the older woman came to the bed. "Do you want to sit up and eat, or should I bring your food to you in bed? I can put more pillows behind you."

"I can get up. That chair by the table looks comfortable." Lorinda sat up and swung her legs over the side of the mattress.

Mike's boots rested on a rag rug nearby. She wished she had put on her own shoes before she escaped from the burning cabin. She didn't want to clomp around this house, sounding like a thundering herd of cattle.

Mrs. Oleson went to a chest that sat against the wall opposite the bed. She opened the top drawer and pulled out something knitted. "Here are some warm, woolen socks. You can wear them instead of the boots if you'd like. Those look far too large for your dainty feet."

Dainty? No one had ever called her that. "Thank you."

"Let me help you." The older woman knelt beside the bed, making Lorinda feel uncomfortable. "It'll be easier for me than for you to reach so far with the wonderful blessing you're carrying."

Was this baby a blessing? Lorinda hadn't even thought about anything like that. Yes. She would consider the child she and Mike had created to be a very special blessing.

If only the rest of her life weren't such a mess.

Franklin paced across the great room of the ranch house. He'd told Mrs. Oleson he wanted to talk to her after she'd taken care of the Sullivan woman. Maybe his housekeeper would have an idea about some place they could take her.

Even though it had been over three hours since they arrived at the house, he still missed the feel of Mrs. Sullivan cradled in his arms. A feeling he couldn't afford to enjoy. Not if he was going to protect his heart. The sooner the woman was out of his house, the better. He'd get back to his settled lifestyle and forget her. At least, he hoped he could.

Footsteps approached from the hallway that led to the two bedrooms on this floor. Finally. Now he could get this taken care of and return to ranching. Running a spread the size of his took all his concentration.

"There you are, Franklin." His housekeeper stopped in the doorway. "I'm assuming you want to check on our guest."

"Of course." He waved her inside and dropped down on the long sofa covered in cowhide.

Mrs. Oleson sat in one of the two wingback chairs. "She has eaten a bit of breakfast, and she's fast asleep."

He nodded. "That's good." Maybe now he could forget she was here. And get some work done. "I've been trying to figure out the best way we can help the woman."

The more he said her name, the more she seemed like a good friend. So he'd see how long he could get by without calling her by name.

"I know that what we're doing right now is helping her a lot." Mrs. Oleson kept her eyes trained on his face.

He hoped he wouldn't give away his inner thoughts. But Mrs. Oleson had been with him long enough that she often discerned his thoughts before he spoke them. He got up and went toward the front window. Crossing his arms over his chest, he kept his attention on the great outdoors.

"I wish she had some family, but she indicated she didn't. I'd be glad to pay her way to wherever she wants to go." He heard Mrs. Oleson shift behind him. Might as well get it all out in the open . "She can't stay here."

The older woman cleared her throat.

He knew she was not going to agree with him, so he turned to face her. "Do you have something you want to say?" He hoped his question would remind her who ran this ranch.

She stood. "Maybe the good Lord had us rescue her for a reason. We mustn't be too hasty to send her away. Besides the poor dear just lost everything. I think we should help her face the difficulties."

"We have helped her...a lot." His statement sounded lame even to his own ears.

Her frown indicated she thought so, too. "I know she's thankful you saved her life, but this young woman will need a lot of tender care."

He wanted to say it's not our problem , but the glint in Mrs. Oleson's eyes alerted him that might not be a good idea. "I can talk to her and try to find out where we can send her."

The frown on his housekeeper's face deepened. "You're the boss, Mr. Vine, but there are other factors to consider."

When she called him boss and Mr. Vine, he knew how strongly she disagreed with him. "What factors?" He tried to smile to soften his words, but it felt more like a grimace.

"She's been through a lot in the last few months, and this latest thing is really affecting her." Mrs. Oleson walked over to stand in front of him. "When I took her breakfast tray in, I had heard her cry out for her husband before I got to her door. And she sounded terrified. I think the poor dear was having a nightmare."

That put a new face on their dilemma. He didn't have the heart to add to the young woman's bad fortune. But helping her more would place him in a troubling situation. He was strong, so he could guard his heart and help her a bit.

"If possible, we should offer her shelter for as long as she needs it." Mrs. Oleson tucked her chin against her chest and waited for him to comment.

She knew he liked to think things through, and evidently, she was giving him time without staring at him.

He turned back to the window. The mountains on the other side of the valley, where his ranch nestled, stood tall. Covered with snow that glistened in the mid-day sunlight, they looked like a fortress protecting his holdings from the rest of the world. How could he not offer protection for a helpless woman and child? The Bible said a lot about taking care of widows and orphans. He knew without a doubt that he needed to help Mrs. Sullivan and her child. But it would take all his strength to keep himself aloof from her. And that was essential to his peace of mind.

Lord, give me strength.