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DECEMBER 23, 1891
Three days had passed and still no word had come from the ranch about Daisy’s condition. The bookshop had been too busy with customers buying Christmas gifts for Maddie to spare Clara for even a few hours. But on Tuesday, the rush for last-minute purchases appeared to have passed. Maddie conjectured that the ladies of Ketchum might be otherwise engaged in their kitchens cooking for the holiday. Maddie didn’t have the heart to refuse when Mr. Kincaid showed up midday with a note from Jessie pleading for Clara’s help to supervise the children.
Maddie told her that afternoon. “Don’t worry about rushing back. The sun sets so early these days, that I’d rather know you were safe at the ranch than traveling back in the cold and dark. I’m certain Lena would be happy to provide you with a room. After all, lodging is her business.”
“Are you sure you can spare me?”
Maddie glanced down at the day’s receipts. “Quite sure. Besides, I can get a lot done on my next book with the shop so quiet. I might even close for the rest of the week. In fact, I shall. Go on. Don’t keep Mr. Kincaid waiting. You might even be there when Daisy delivers her pups.”
Clara made a face. “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before. And I’m not sure I have the constitution for it.”
“Neither do I,” Maddie said, frowning. And she lay her hand on the small bulge now stretching her skirt.
“I was a little off on my estimate,” Graham said as she settled herself beside him on the wagon seat. “Shouldn’t be more than a few days.”
“How does she look? Is she still in the barn? Is Alec still staying close?”
Graham laughed. “She’s doing well and yes, Alec stays very close.” His gaze shifted to the small valise she carried. “You have enough in there to stay through Christmas?”
“I don’t know.” She turned to him and asked, “Why? Do you think it will take that long?”
“No. I still think we’ll be seeing those puppies in the next forty-eight hours, but I’ve been watching that sky. Think we’re in for a strong snow storm. Signs are pointing to it.”
Clara looked north, noticing little more than a hazy overcast and a watery sun. “What signs?”
“Animals moving down in more numbers than usual. Elk and deer. Saw a moose yesterday.”
She wrapped her fingers tight around the handle of her valise. “So, it might snow us in?”
He hitched a shoulder. “Might. Might not. Just could indicate a harsh winter ahead.”
She was glad for the wool coat and the glove she’d purchased last week. The socks she’d borrowed from Mr. Kincaid had convinced her to buy the practical wool gloves.
Mr. Kincaid pursed his lips as he slapped the reins against the rump of the plodding horse. “Hope it doesn’t snow that hard before Christmas. Mrs. Hartmann would be disappointed if Evan and the little girl didn’t make it to the ranch for Christmas.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“That’s because you haven’t been at the ranch this week. The women can’t talk about anything else.” He laughed again. It was a deep, pleasant laugh.
“If it snows hard, what will happen to Jessie’s party plans?”
“I don’t think I want to be anywhere near that kitchen if it does,” he said.
Jessie threw up her hands when Clara walked through the kitchen door. “I’m so glad you came.” She called through the open door to the front room. “Lena, Clara is here.” Jessie rolled her eyes. “We’ve had our hands full trying to entertain the twins while I get things ready in here for our Christmas party, and Lena finished up Rebecca’s room.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to visit Daisy first.”
“Oh, sure. Won’t that be a treat to have puppies for Christmas? That might just keep the twins quiet for a few hours.”
Clara slipped into the barn, finding Daisy asleep on her blanket. Mr. Kincaid’s dog was curled in the straw a few feet from her, but he looked up as she approached, ears alert, eyes warily watching her as she stepped into the stall. “Hello, Alec. Are you looking out for my Daisy?”
The male padded to her side and sniffed her fingers.
“You remember the sausage, don’t you? I’m sorry. I didn’t bring any this time, but I’ll see if I can find something in the kitchen. There’s certain to be something Jessie can spare.”
Daisy responded to Clara’s voice and lifted her head, her mouth opening wide in an indisputable smile. Clara dropped to her knees beside her and scratched beneath her chin. “How are you, my girl? Mr. Kincaid says this will be over soon.”
Clara stroked Daisy’s velvet paws and hummed a lullaby she remembered from childhood.
“That’s nice.”
She looked up to see Graham Kincaid standing outside the stall with his elbows looped over the top rail. “Did you tell Alec to stay with her?”
He shook his head. “No. That was his idea. He seems to have accepted the responsibility of looking out for her. Part of his nature, you know.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what? I haven’t done a thing yet. I expect she’ll work it out by herself when the time comes.”
Clara rose to her feet and brushed hay from her skirt as she walked out of the stall. She was close to him now, and it was pleasant to be near him, the shepherd with the calm voice and gentle manner. “Still, I’m grateful you’re here with her.”
He turned his head to her, his eyes holding hers for a long, unnerving moment. “I’m glad to be of service, Clara.”
It was the first time he’d used her name. She’d never heard it spoken in such a way, his Scottish brogue giving it the same genuine quality as his laugh. Her heart skipped a beat, its tempo altered for a tantalizing moment of pondering what if.
Reading from a book that Tommy had selected, Clara sat on the braided rug in Tommy and Rowena’s bedroom. Both children were already nodding off to sleep in their beds. She felt satisfied that she’d accomplished her purpose and kept the children entertained for the afternoon. Judging from the delicious aromas drifting upstairs from the kitchen, her efforts had given Jessie and Lena time to make a fair amount of progress.
She sat for a time, listening to the children’s soft breathing. How sweet they looked in sleep. It was a marvel to her that any mother could maintain the energy to keep up with them when they were awake. And yet, in sleep, how angelic they appeared. She rose and pulled the quilts about the shoulders of both children. Tommy immediately thrashed in his sleep and kicked his cover away.
Tiptoeing to the window, she looked at the view of the valley stretching out to the Big Wood River. Night had fallen while she’d read, and snow with it. Flakes drifted past the window, becoming more numerous even as she watched. Mr. Kincaid’s prediction had been correct. Although the thought of spending more time with the man no longer offended her, she was glad that they’d not have to return to town tonight. She smiled. In fact, she very much hoped they’d have more time to build the new direction of their relationship.
From her vantage on the second floor, she could see a portion of the barn. Lantern light shown through the open door. Was Mr. Kincaid checking in on Daisy? With a start, she considered what the light might mean, and she headed for the door. Once downstairs, she took only a moment to grab her coat and slip into boots before heading for the barn.
“Good girl. It’s okay.” Graham’s voice came from the back of the barn, the lantern light reflecting off the rafters.
Clara tiptoed into the stall and slipped to her knees. Graham looked up, giving her a reassuring smile. “See, my girl, your mistress is here.” The words, so softly spoken, held the same appealing quality as before, sending shivers along Clara’s arms.
She stretched out her hand to stroke the dog’s head but hesitated, looking up at Graham for his approval. He smiled and gave her a slight nod. Daisy rolled her eye to look at Clara. She was panting so hard that Clara was certain things must not be as they should. Alarmed, she shot a questioning look at Graham. “Is she dying?”
He smiled again, that slow soft lift of his lips, a look of calming reassurance. “Not at all. It’s all natural, my girl. All natural. Everything as it should be.”
She wasn’t sure he was speaking to her or the dog. But his eyes were on her, and not Daisy.
The next hours were some of the most memorable Clara had ever known. Repulsion at the sight of blood turned to euphoric delight at the sudden appearance of life, squirming and ugly in first moments of breath. When the first puppy appeared, she’d held back a childish impulse to squeal with joy. Seeing a similar boyish expression on Graham’s face, they’d shared a smile.
Four damp mops of fur lay beside Daisy. Clara had followed Graham’s example, using towels to clean each one before helping them latch onto their mother for nursing. Each step of the process had taken her through an extreme range of emotions and physical reactions.
As Clara tucked her legs beneath her skirts and lay her head back against the wall, she sighed watching as Daisy nursed her four healthy puppies. Graham sat on the opposite side of the stall, his sleeves rolled up, exposing powerful forearms. Something inside her reacted to the physicality of the man, an unexpected response, and it disturbed her into looking away.
“She did well,” he said.
Clara lifted her gaze with some reluctance, uncertain of these unfamiliar emotions. She quickly shifted her attention to Daisy. “That one on the right, the smaller one, is she healthy?”
“Aye. She’s the runt, but I couldn’t see anything wrong with her aside from her size. She may never catch up, but there’s no accounting for the heart.”
“What do you mean, heart?”
“Sometimes the smallest one of the litter can surprise you with its sheer determination to survive. I’ve seen it become a trait for life.”
“I wonder if that’s true of people too.”
He chuckled, a deep and satisfying sound. “Aye, I expect for some.” He tipped his head back against the stall, closing his eyes.
“You look tired.”
“It’s been a long day,” he said without opening his eyes. “But it ended well, and there’s a blessing.”
She studied him for a long while until his breathing slowed and his chest rose and fell to the steady rhythm of sleep. He was so unlike the men she’d known and observed in her sheltered life. Her family would have called him rough, perhaps even uncouth. In fact, such had been her initial opinion. Was her opinion altered because of sheer physical attraction, or was there something more about the man’s character that drew her? They had so little in common. Or was there more, perhaps even within her, she did not comprehend as yet?
Clara pushed herself to her feet, stifling a groan at the tingling numbness in her legs. She took a step, lifted a folded blanket and shook it out. Then, with great care not to disturb his sleep, she draped the blanket over the man’s shoulders. She stared down at him for a moment more, tempted to brush the lock of fair hair from his forehead, before tiptoeing from the stall.