The snow was piling up again. He was either getting used to it, or spending a few hours with Jud and Suzanne had brightened his day so much the weather no longer bothered Welles. He tromped through the snow, thinking more about getting back to the house and enjoying lunch with Sophie and Gramps than the snow or the wind. He wasn’t even wondering what Sophie may have made for lunch.
Unlike Gramps, he’d never worried overly much about eating, but had to admit, the meal last night and this morning had been tasty. He’d eaten in some of the finest restaurants in some of the largest cities west of the Mississippi these past few years, but there was something about a home-cooked meal and sitting around the table with family that a restaurant, no matter how fancy or expensive, couldn’t compare with.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that until visiting with Jud and Suzanne. She’d invited him to stay for lunch at their place, and the house had smelled wonderful from the bread she’d pulled out of the oven while they’d been visiting, but he’d declined. Not only would Gramps expect him home, that was also where he wanted to eat.
Visiting with Jud and watching the couple interact, laughing and teasing each other, and talking about the baby that would arrive within a couple of months, had him wondering if there were other things he was missing. Things he’d never had, or could remember having.
It had been just him and Gramps. Both his parents had died when he’d been so young he hardly remembered them, but after seeing how happy Jud was—the last person he’d have expected to be married, especially to Suzanne, a preacher’s daughter—Welles was thinking about his future. He’d always known there was more to life than the gambling he’d taken up the past few years. An occupation that had treated him very well, and he’d come to the conclusion he couldn’t think about what more meant. Or was. He’d made his choice.
That might change someday, but not here. Not as long as Sophie was here.
As he stepped onto the front porch, and stomped the snow off his boots, he told himself Gramps would understand why he couldn’t stay—once he got around to telling the old man.
The smell when he opened the front door made him grin. Fresh baked bread. He’d been hoping for that.
“Was wondering if you’d make it home in time for lunch,” Gramps said, pushing his chair away from his makeshift worktable in the parlor. The same table that used to be in the barn, where Gramps had spent hours upon hours tooling leather into bridles and halters. “Sophie likes to eat while it’s hot.”
“I know,” Welles said, taking off his coat. “You told me that, and that’s why I’m here before noon.”
“Where were you?” Gramps asked.
“I went over to see Jud’s shop and visited with him and Suzanne.”
“She settled that hooligan down, made him accept his responsibilities and become a respectable man,” Gramps said. “You should take note of that.”
An eerie little quiver tickled his spine as he wondered exactly what his grandfather was suggesting.
“Well, come on, let’s eat.” Gramps started walking toward the kitchen. “My stomach’s been growling since she pulled that bread out of the oven.”
Welles fell in step beside his grandfather, noting how much shorter and slower the man’s footsteps were now. He remembered how, for years, he’d had to run to keep up with Gramps.
Another memory struck him. The one day he hadn’t had to run to keep up. It had been a rainy day, and he’d been cold, inside and out, as the preacher had said the final words over the graves of his mother and father. Gramps had taken his hand, and slowly they’d walked out of the cemetery.
Don’t you worry none, Welles. You’ll always have me, Gramps had said. We’ll always have each other.
A hint of shame, at how he’d been the one to break that promise, washed over Welles as they entered the kitchen. While Gramps walked on, straight to the table, Welles stopped to stare at the woman setting a kettle in the center of the table. He wasn’t as shocked as he was confused.
Glancing from the woman to Sophie, his confusion increased.
“There was no reason for Annie and Isaac to stay at the hotel when we have plenty of room,” Sophie said.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Annie said.
Welles didn’t mind; he just didn’t see why. “No,” he said. “Not at all. As Sophie said, there’s plenty of room.”
Sophie’s gentle smile was for Annie, who smiled in return before she bowed her head.
“Thank you,” Annie whispered.
“Let’s eat while it’s hot,” Sophie said while walking toward the stove and pulling her apron off.
Welles walked around the table and pulled the chair out for Annie. Once she was seated, he moved over to pull one out for Sophie and waited while she hung the apron on a hook and walked back to the table.
As she was sitting, he whispered, “Where’s her baby?”
“Isaac,” Sophie said, as if making a point of saying the name, “is napping.”
Relief washed over him. For a moment he’d wondered if the baby had taken ill from the cold. Understanding that was still a possibility, he asked, “He’s doing all right?”
“Yes,” Sophie answered. “He’s fine.”
“Good to hear,” he said, moving to his own chair.
The stew was delicious and plentiful, and he smiled his thanks at Sophie. There was no use trying to start up a conversation. Gramps would stifle it until he’d eaten his fill.
Gramps soon dished up a second helping of stew, and passed the ladle to Welles. While he added another portion to his plate, a faint crying sound filtered the room.
Annie instantly jumped to her feet. “Excuse me.”
Welles waited until she’d disappeared at the top of the stairs before asking Sophie, “She wasn’t comfortable at the hotel?”
Anger snapped in her eyes as her lips puckered. “No. It’s full of men, other than Martha Merlin, and we all know how friendly she is.”
Welles nodded as he stuck his fork in a potato slice. “I didn’t think of that.”
Sophie set her fork down with a clatter. “Why would you want to expose your son to that?”
Gramps spit out his mouthful of food while Welles tried hard not to choke on his. His eyes were watering by the time a solid chunk of a potato went down.
“She told you that’s my son?”
“She didn’t need to. I knew the moment I saw him.”
“You knew—”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Gramps asked.
Stunned they’d even think the baby was his, Welles shook his head. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“He has your eyes,” Sophie said.
“No, he doesn’t.” Anger rose at the idea they both thought so little of him. “I have my eyes.”
She pushed her chair away from the table. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. There’s no need to lie.”
He jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm as she stood. It bothered him deeply that she thought he’d lied about something like that. “I’m not. That’s not my baby.” His spine quivered at the coldness in Sophie’s eyes. “I’d never seen them before they boarded the train in Kansas.”
Her glare said she still didn’t believe him.
Could he blame her? He had lied to her before. When he left town and said he’d be back. Huffing out a breath, he said, “I don’t know why she’d say that, but it’s not true.”
“Did she tell you that, Sophie-girl?” Gramps asked.
Sophie took a deep breath and pulled her arm out of his hold before she said, “No, she didn’t.”
Welles was so relieved he wanted to sink back down in his chair, but didn’t because he wanted to know more. “Then why would you assume it?”
Huffing the air out of her lungs, she said, “Because there is no other reason for you to be here. You haven’t bothered to come home in five years.”
Irritated now because he couldn’t tell her the truth, not the whole truth, he said, “I haven’t traveled past here.”
Gramps, who had started eating again, set his fork down on his plate. “How long do you intend to stay, now that you’ve traveled past?”
Welles questioned if now was the time, but ultimately knew it didn’t matter. He’d have to let them know sooner or later. “I’ll be heading to Denver as soon as the train is free. To a Christmas Day poker game. I’ve already paid the buy-in.”
“So, that’s not a lie,” Sophie said, looking as disgusted as she had earlier. “You have become a gambler.”
“I’ve never claimed it was a rumor,” he answered. “It’s how I’ve paid for the horses I’ve had delivered here over the past five years.” He’d never had this gut-churning need to justify his behaviors. Not in years, and didn’t appreciate it happening now. Gambling had been the way he’d paid Gramps back for the money Colleen had stolen, and more. Enough money to have dozens upon dozens of horses shipped home.
Sophie’s glare told him exactly what she thought of that, and him.
The real reason he’d continued to gamble, long after he’d earned back Gramps’s money, would no longer stay buried. He’d done it, become a full-time gambler, because of her. She hated gamblers, and that made him feel safe. That when he finally came home, she’d see that he wasn’t the type of man she needed, realize she needed someone stable, responsible, and that would once and for all set him free. If she hated him, then he could let go of any last hope of them ever being together and, in time, stop caring for her. Stop loving her.
Fully annoyed at himself, at her, at life, he said, “That’s what I do. I gamble.” Pointing toward the stairway, he added, “Not marry women and have babies. Only a foolish man does that.” Spinning around, he walked out of the room.
“Where you going?” Gramps asked.
“Out.”
Sophie tried hard to keep her emotions under control. What was usually a simple feat took great effort, but she managed to hold her tongue and the tears that burned the backs of her eyes. Keeping her attention on the tasks at hand, she began clearing the table, wishing the entire time that Welles had been married to Annie, and that Isaac was his son. That would have been easier than knowing he was a gambler.
“I was hoping he’d get that all out of his system before coming home, Sophie-girl,” Chester said.
“It makes no difference to me,” she said, carrying dishes to the sink.
“Yes, it does.”
The legs of his chair scraped the floor, but she didn’t turn around or respond.
“But either way, this here is your home. Nothing and nobody will change that.”
Sophie stacked the dishes on the counter, giving her something to do as Chester walked out of the room. The front door hadn’t opened yet, so Welles hadn’t left, and not wanting to hear what might be said between the two of them, she crossed the room and hurried up the stairs.
The closing of the front door echoed up the stairway as she reached the top, and needing to focus on something else, she knocked on the door of the room she’d given to Annie.
“It’s me, Sophie.”
“Come in.”
Annie sat in a chair beside the bed, nursing Isaac beneath a blanket she’d draped over her shoulder.
“I was just wondering if I should keep some stew warm for you,” Sophie said, closing the door behind her. Now that Welles was gone, Chester would have more to say, and she was in no hurry to hear it.
“Oh, no, thank you. I had plenty before Isaac awoke, but I’ll be down shortly to clean the kitchen.”
“That’s not necessary. You’re a guest,” Sophie said.
“But it is,” Annie replied, rubbing Isaac’s bottom through the blanket. “It’s the least I can do.” A shameful expression covered her face as she added, “It’s the only way I can repay your kindness.”
Sophie sat down on the bed. At the hotel, Annie had agreed to come stay at the house because she didn’t have the money to pay for a hotel room. Sophie hadn’t questioned why, but now asked, “Where’s Isaac’s father?”
A serene smile filled Annie’s face. “In Denver. We’d tried homesteading a piece of land in Kansas, but too many things went wrong. Daniel saw advertisements in a Denver newspaper and wrote to one of them. They offered him a job, but he had to arrive immediately. I couldn’t go with him because I was too far along with Isaac, so I stayed with the neighbors until Daniel sent the money for the train fare so we could to join him. I’d packed plenty of food for myself, but had to leave it on the train.” She shook her head. “I know he’ll be worried when we don’t arrive as scheduled, but I don’t even have the money to send him a wire.”
“Don’t worry. Frank Green, he’s the depot agent, will wire the other depots of the train mishap,” Sophie said. “How long have you been separated?”
“Three months, but it feels like years.” Annie removed the blanket enough to hoist Isaac onto her shoulder and began patting his back. “I can’t wait for Daniel to see Isaac. He was so certain I would have a boy.”
“May I?” Sophie asked, holding out her hands.
Annie’s face brightened. “He might spit up.”
“I won’t mind,” Sophie said.
An odd sensation spread through her body as she took the infant and propped him against her shoulder as Annie had been doing. He smelled so sweet and special, and as he nestled his head against her neck, Sophie closed her eyes, totally consumed by the tiny little life she held. How wonderful it must be to have a child. Someone to love fully and completely. That was what she’d dreamed of, and all she truly wanted, but it seemed to be more elusive than ever.
“When I opened the door this morning, I knew you were the miracle I’d prayed for,” Annie said. “The men at the hotel were saying it could be three days or more before the train could leave for Denver. There’s just no way I could stay there that long, not without any money.”
“I’m not a miracle,” Sophie said, “and don’t worry about money. You can stay with us as long as you need.”
“Mr. Carmichael had introduced himself to me on the train, but I certainly don’t know him well enough to impose upon his family. Are you his sister?”
“No, and you aren’t imposing.”
“And I don’t want to be.” Annie stood up and laid the folded baby blanket on the bed. “I’ll work for our keep. Just tell me what you need done, and I’ll do it.”