Chapter
6
Pieter hadn’t known quite what to expect from a women’s colony, but the speed at which news spread about Claire’s return was truly remarkable. Ladies poured out of every nook and cranny to swarm the clinic. Nothing stirred a female’s curiosity more than a new man in town.
Pieter shook his head as the latest woman brushed past him. He wasn’t the new man causing the ruckus, of course. Nope. Liam claimed that honor all by himself. The sheer volume of feminine cooing and high-pitched nonsense words being tossed about inside the clinic would have made Diederick proud.
Or jealous. Dirk never had enjoyed anyone else being the center of attention.
Pieter’s smile slipped as he finished unharnessing the rented horse from its cart. How could Dirk turn his back on Polly and the child he’d fathered? The depth of his brother’s selfishness sickened Pieter. Last he’d seen Dirk, he had been pursuing some textile heiress, sure he’d be able to convince the plain, plump young woman to marry him and thereby provide not only a managerial position for himself within her father’s company, but a healthy fortune at the onset thanks to her significant dowry. Her doting father wouldn’t want his only daughter living in any discomfort.
Pieter couldn’t help but secretly wish for the girl’s father to beat Dirk at his own game. Perhaps when negotiating the marriage contract, he would offer a modest dowry and a position within the company only to reveal after the vows had been spoken that the position entailed the lowest, most menial labor. Pieter couldn’t think of a punishment Dirk would hate more than actually having to work for his own advancement. It would serve the bounder right to be cut off from the golden goose he coveted so strongly that he had abandoned his own child to chase it.
Having already secured the goat in the fenced yard behind the clinic, Pieter took one last look at the building before leading the horse back toward town and the water pump he’d spotted near a garden area.
Despite having said the piece he’d traveled halfway across the country to say, nothing had been resolved between him and Claire. She probably needed time, but he didn’t have a lot to offer. He was expected in Snyder in a week, to accept delivery of his dairy cows. He’d hoped to take Claire with him. As his wife. Yet impatience had bungled things for him before, and he’d vowed not to make that mistake a second time. If he had to woo her over the next three years, one day at a time when he came for his monthly visit to see Liam, that was what he’d do. Jacob worked for Rachel for seven years, after all, his love for his woman making the time pass like mere days. Pieter could do the same.
“There’s water and pasture you can use at the station house.”
The deep voice startled Pieter out of his mental wanderings. He jerked his head toward the sound and spotted a man with a gun holstered on his hip leaning casually against a large oak tree beside the local café.
The man pushed away from the tree and strode forward, sunlight glinting off the star on his vest. “Malachi Shaw,” he said as he stretched out his hand.
Pieter returned the handshake, making sure his grip was firm and steady. “Pieter van Duren. I’m a friend of Claire’s.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard her mention you.” Shaw clasped Pieter’s hand longer than necessary, his hold tightening as his gaze probed Pieter’s face.
Pieter endured the scrutiny, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin. “Our families know each other in New York.”
“How long you planning to stay?”
Pieter squeezed the marshal’s hand, then tugged free. He didn’t mind being measured, but he wouldn’t be intimidated. “I’ve got a room in Seymour for the week. I’ll be making daily visits to Harper’s Station in the interim. Making sure Claire has everything she needs for the babe.”
The marshal hooked his thumbs into the small pockets of his vest, his relaxed stance at odds with the intensity of his stare. “That kid’s arrival has certainly caused a stir. Especially since no one—including Miss Nevin, apparently—knew he was coming.”
He was fishing for details. Pieter wouldn’t be supplying any. He could understand Shaw’s dedication to his duty. Protecting the ladies of Harper’s Station included protecting Claire, and Pieter applauded him for that. But he wasn’t about to spill personal details just to ease this man’s curiosity. He took refuge in silence and an it’s-none-of-your-business stare.
The marshal seemed to accept the closure of that particular road but didn’t give up his questioning. Just jumped to a different path. “So you’ll return to New York after you see the boy settled?”
Pieter crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”
Shaw waited several seconds for Pieter to elaborate. He didn’t.
“So where ya headed?”
“I don’t believe that is any of your concern.”
Something sparked in the marshal’s eyes. In a blink, his casual stance vanished. He stood ramrod straight, hands balled into fists and jaw clenched in warning as he stepped close enough to Pieter to bring their noses barely inches apart. “Everything that could impact the well-being of the women in this town is my concern. I saw the way your eyes followed Claire into the clinic. You’re not just here for the babe. You’re here for her. She came to us last year, fleeing an unwanted suitor. I aim to see she doesn’t fall prey to another. If she lets me know you’re not welcome, you might as well get comfortable in Seymour, for you won’t be visiting that babe or anyone else in Harper’s Station.”
Pieter bit back a defensive retort, stilled his riled pulse, and gave a sharp nod—one of understanding, not agreement. He’d never force his attentions on Claire, but neither would he let this meddling marshal dictate his future. “I appreciate your looking out for Claire’s best interests, Mr. Shaw. And while my personal reasons for being here are none of your business, I’m glad you care enough about Claire to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
The marshal stepped back and grinned. “Nosy, huh? Well, I’ve been called worse.” He gestured across the street toward the old station house. “Come on. Those women will be oohing and aahing for hours yet. After we rub your horse down and turn him out in the paddock, I’ll heat up some of Bertie’s coffee, and we can sit a spell.”
Pieter raised a brow. “You planning another round of interrogation?”
Shaw held his arms up, palms out. “Nope. Just two men chattin’, I swear. Male conversation is a rare commodity in these parts, believe me. I aim to take full advantage of you.” He chuckled and slapped Pieter on the shoulder.
“That’s the prettiest baby I’ve ever seen,” Maybelle declared as she wrapped Liam in his blanket and handed him back to Claire after doing a quick exam. “And healthy as can be, too.” Maybelle winked. “He’ll be running you ragged before you know it.”
Claire thanked her mentor and snuggled Liam close. He grinned up at her, his toothless gums shining with baby drool, his eyes dark blue and so jolly, she couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh, ye little heartbreaker. What am I to do with ye?”
Give him everything in your heart, Claire.
She bent forward and touched a kiss to Liam’s downy head. His tiny fist poked out of the blanket and flailed about as if he couldn’t quite contain his excitement at being back in her arms. She held a finger out to him, and he clutched it, bringing it to his mouth. Claire’s chest swelled. Such a precious child. So innocent. So sweet. It would be impossible not to love him.
I give ye my solemn vow, Polly. I will hold him dear to me heart and pledge all that I have to keep him safe.
“He’s a little darling,” Bertie Chandler crooned, moving in for a closer look. The rest of the ladies followed suit, surrounding Claire. How they had all learned of Liam’s arrival when she’d only been back in town for fifteen minutes, she had no idea, but nearly a dozen of Harper’s Station’s citizens filled the clinic’s waiting area, eager for a turn to hold the baby.
Part of her wanted to shoo them all away, to dash down the hall to her room and latch the door against them. Liam was hers, and hers alone.
Only he wasn’t. He belonged to Pieter, too.
Pieter. What was she to do with all he’d told her? His declaration of love. His explanations. His dairy farm in Snyder. Saints above. He had moved to Texas for her. For Liam. He deserved to be a part of the child’s life. But could she trust him enough to be a permanent part of hers?
“May I hold him?” Bertie asked, breaking Claire out of her thoughts. The older lady reached for Liam, and with great reluctance, Claire handed him over.
Most of the ladies shifted to Bertie’s side, all mesmerized by the boy, but Tori Porter and Emma Shaw stayed with Claire.
“Your poor sister,” Tori said, taking Claire’s arm and steering her toward a sofa along the far wall. “How desperate she must have been to send her child away.” The normally stoic shopkeeper’s eyes misted. “I remember how hard it was when Lewis was first born. If I hadn’t found that position tending house with Mrs. Barry, I might have been faced with a similar choice. Thank God she had you to turn to, Claire. I can’t imagine how devastating it must have been to give up her son.”
The three sat, Claire sandwiched between Tori and Emma. It reminded her of the day she’d first arrived in Harper’s Station, distraught and desperate to escape marriage to Stanley Fischer. She and her sister might be in very different situations, but she understood what desperation could lead a person to do.
“Da cut her off,” Claire explained in Polly’s defense. “Turned her out. She had no way to provide for the babe.” Her gaze found Liam, who was being passed from Bertie to her sister, Henrietta. “It was either leave him in a foundling home or send him to me.”
“Then she made the right choice.” Emma patted Claire’s knee and smiled warmly. “You’ll make a wonderful mother, Claire. You love him already, I can tell.”
Claire grinned as Liam grabbed a fistful of Henry Chandler’s gray hair, earning a muffled screech from the spinster. “I do.”
“And what of the man who brought him to you?” Emma’s arched brows and twinkling eyes didn’t bode well for keeping secrets. “Mal and I saw him driving and followed you to the clinic. The man could barely take his eyes off of you.”
Heat flushed Claire’s cheeks. “His name is Pieter van Duren. He’s a friend from back home. We . . . ah . . . courted once upon a time.”
Emma leaned her shoulder against Claire’s in a sisterly fashion. “He seems a much better candidate for husband than Stanley Fischer.”
Claire ducked her head and fiddled with her skirt. “Pieter’s a good man. A man I once loved to distraction. But he broke me heart. Quite unintentionally, it turns out, but at the time, the wound was so deep that I deemed marriage to a stranger preferable. Marriage where me heart would be safe from harm.”
“Yet you couldn’t go through with it,” Emma said.
“And now he’s back,” Tori added. “And you have another choice to make.”
Claire bit her lip and looked from one friend to the other before her gaze drifted over to Liam. “Aye. And I have more than just meself to consider this time around.”
An hour later in the station house kitchen, after three cups of coffee and a half-dozen molasses cookies—one of which Pieter was fairly certain he saw the marshal tuck inside his vest—very little, if any, tension remained between the two men. Malachi Shaw listened with interest to Pieter as he rambled on about his dairy prospects, and Pieter found the tales the marshal told about masked outlaws and gunmen disguised as detectives as fascinating as they were horrifying. Apparently the quiet little women’s colony Claire had been living in for the last nine months had been far from quiet. Or safe.
Pieter forced himself not to think about all the terrible things that could have happened to her since she left New York. She was alive and well and only a few buildings away. But a shiver ran through him anyway. Along with a prayer of thanksgiving for the Lord’s protection.
“After the Pinkertons tracked down the rightful heir to the Haversham fortune,” the marshal continued, “the gal was so grateful, she insisted on sending a sizable chunk of funds to Grace as a reward. Miss Mallory—Mrs. Bledsoe now—donated every last penny back to the town, asking that we build a permanent women’s aid refuge.”
Pieter set down his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair. “I thought this whole town was a women’s aid refuge.”
“It is, to an extent.” Shaw drew his leg up and balanced his ankle on his knee. “Emma and the aunts started Harper’s Station as a place for women to get a fresh start, no matter their reason. Females escaping abuse. Widows or unmarried women on their own with no way to support themselves. Even ladies who simply wanted a chance to prove themselves in a trade dominated by men. This is a place where they could be safe while earning a living and contributing to a community that accepted them. But it’s changing, little by little. It’s really not a women’s colony anymore. First Emma and I married. Then Ben and Tori Porter hitched up. Grace and Helen both found husbands and left town. Ned Johnson’s already in his teens, and there are other boys who will outgrow their mama’s apron strings before much longer.
“The town is changing, and Grace’s gift will allow us to preserve the heart of our mission well into the future. Emma intends to break ground on the Grace and Amos Bledsoe Home for Women next month.”
“Sounds like a worthy endeavor.”
Shaw grinned. “Yep. My Em’s already got plans for the place, endowments set up with her investors, the works. She’s not one to let an idea or a dollar sit idle.”
“I heard that, husband,” a decidedly feminine voice called out as the back door opened. Both men scooted their chairs out and got to their feet. Emma Shaw swept into the kitchen, a wide smile on her face and a familiar youngster cradled in her arms. “It’s poor manners to discuss one’s wife when she’s not around to defend herself.”
Shaw wrapped an arm around the lively brunette’s waist and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Not if I’m payin’ you compliments, angel.” His gaze moved to the babe. He lifted a hand to touch Liam’s back but never quite made contact. The uncertainty clouding his eyes shocked Pieter. The marshal had oozed confidence since they’d met outside the clinic. Why would an infant lay him low?
“Isn’t he the most precious thing?” Emma held Liam up in front of her, grinned at him, and jiggled him gently until he grinned back. “Here. Hold him.” She extended her arms.
Malachi Shaw lurched backward and waved her off. “No way, Em. I don’t know anything about babies. I’ll probably tangle his booties in his bib or something.”
“Nonsense. It’s easy. He’s already holding his head up. All you have to do is support his middle. Pretend you’re holding a puppy or something.” She advanced on him, turning a giggling Liam around to face him as she went. “Come on, Mal. He won’t bite. He might drool on you, but big, strong man that you are, you can handle it.”
The marshal shot Pieter a silent plea for help.
Pieter shrugged. “Hold him under his arms and bounce him on your knee. He likes that.”
Shaw narrowed his eyes in a message that obviously declared Pieter a traitor, then tried one more time to step away. Only to run into the wall.
“Take him, Mal.” Mrs. Shaw’s voice was softer this time. “You need the practice.” Only then did Pieter notice the roundness at her waist. “You’re going to be a great father. Trust me.”
“But my old man—”
“Was a drunken lout, I know.” She pressed Liam into the marshal’s chest and waited until his hands slowly came around to clasp the baby’s sides. “You’re nothing like him. You’re going to love our child so much that your heart will nearly burst, and everything else will take care of itself.”
“Except the diapers,” Pieter said.
Shaw’s wife laughed at that and turned to Pieter for the first time. Striding away from her husband despite his panicked gaze, she offered Pieter her hand in greeting. “Thank you for delivering such a delightful new citizen to Harper’s Station. There hasn’t been this much excitement in town since Amos Bledsoe’s bicycle order arrived.”
Pieter shook her hand, her kindness instantly putting him at ease. That and the fact that she didn’t seem to need him to contribute anything to the conversation.
“Claire gave me permission to get in some practice time with the baby while the two of you talk.”
Pieter straightened. “Talk?”
Mrs. Shaw nodded. “She’s waiting outside for you.” She tipped her head toward the door she had entered from a few minutes ago.
Pieter didn’t wait for any further explanation. He dipped his head to Shaw’s wife, grabbed his hat off the table, and made a beeline for the back door.