Lightning and Lawmen Page 14

  Glen and Del left to let everyone at the ranch know the baby had arrived and Jemma was in good health and spirits. Delilah and Brianna volunteered to do the dishes and clean the kitchen in exchange for Maggie doing most of the cooking. Edwin helped put the dishes away since Hattie and Allie had returned upstairs to check on Jemma.

  When she finished in the kitchen, Delilah wiped her hands on a dishtowel, thanked Edwin for allowing her to stay, then made her way toward the door.

  Quickly bidding her goodbyes to everyone, she stepped outside, only to find Dugan had followed her.

  “I’ll walk you out to the weather station,” he said, falling into step beside her. “You’re late with the report tonight.”

  She nodded then turned to him with a smile. “The miracle of welcoming a little one into this world is worth a late report or two.”

  Dugan gave her a long, studying glance. “What about you, Dilly? Do you ever think about marriage and babies of your own?”

  Caught off guard by his question, Delilah didn’t answer right away. Instead, she gazed up at the stars twinkling overhead and breathed in the night air. “I don’t really think I’m marriage material, Dugan. I’m far too independent and opinionated to be a good, obedient wife.”

  He didn’t argue with her, but silently continued walking beside her until they reached the weather station located about two hundred yards up the hill from her house. “Do you suppose if you found the right man, he’d admire your independence and intelligence? Rather than squelching it, he might just encourage it.”

  Delilah had never considered the thought that a man might not only allow but encourage her independence. Surely that man didn’t exist or she’d have found him by now. After all, most people considered her a spinster since she was closer to thirty than twenty.

  Regardless, Dugan’s comment deserved consideration and exploration, just not now. At the moment, her heart felt so soft and raw, she feared she might say or do something she’d later regret. Holding baby Bolton had made longings she’d never known or acknowledged flood over her with a vicious force.

  She continued her musings at the weather station as gathered the necessary data and walked with Dugan to the telegraph office where she sent off the report.

  “You don’t have to see me home,” she said as he walked with her down the main street of town and turned to escort her to the cottage.

  “Oh, but I do,” he said. When they reached her front gate, he pushed it open and accompanied her up the porch steps until she opened the front door. “Have sweet dreams, delightful, darling Dilly.”

  Under the cover of darkness, he brushed a quick kiss across her lips before he hurried down the steps, shut the gate and disappeared into the night.

  Delilah shut the door and leaned against it with a contented sigh. Even if she never surrendered to the longing for marriage or babies of her own, she certainly wouldn’t turn down a kiss, or a few dozen, from the handsome deputy.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ross Robbins looked around the house he’d purchased for his beloved Muriel when she’d become his bride. The two-story structure in a lovely residential area of Washington, D.C. had provided shelter against the storms that had come their way, and held years and years of joy, laughter, and love. So much love.

  He made his way upstairs, his hand lovingly rubbing over the smooth wood of the banister. The sound of Delilah’s squeals of excitement filled his ears as he thought of all the times he’d helped her ride the banister downstairs.

  “She’ll break her neck,” Muriel had chided, but she’d smiled indulgently each time he let Delilah take a ride.

  The pictures that had hung on the papered walls of the stairs were now packed in a crate, but the outlines of the frames were visible on the wallpaper.

  Ross shut his eyes and envisioned each image. Allowing himself long moments to dwell in sweet memories, he finally continued up the steps. At the top of the stairs, he turned into a room Muriel had eventually turned into what she called her project room. She had a sewing machine there, along with a long table beneath the bank of windows where she sat to do mending. In spite of his more than adequate income, his wife had been frugal and careful with their funds. She’d taught Delilah to do the same.

  Delilah earned enough income from her birding work she could comfortably support herself for years to come, but his daughter tucked most of her money into savings. Once in a while, she’d splurge on something special, and she’d invested a substantial amount in purchasing plants for their new place in Baker City. Although the cottage, as his daughter had declared it should be called, was half the size of this home, he knew they’d be happy there.

  Ross hated to say goodbye to this house where he’d spent so many joyous years with Muriel and Delilah, but it was time to move on, to let go, and embrace a fresh start in Oregon.

  He glanced around the empty room and thought of the years it had been decorated as a nursery. After Delilah’s arrival, he and Muriel had hoped to welcome many more children into their family. But after three miscarriages and one stillborn baby, Muriel hadn’t conceived again and they’d turned the nursery into a room for her various projects.

  The best and brightest project of their lives had been raising Delilah. Ross couldn’t be prouder of his daughter. Smart, kind, witty, beautiful, and fun, she was everything Muriel had dreamed she’d be. If only she’d allow herself to fall in love. He had no idea where she’d gotten the notion that she couldn’t be happy in a marriage. He and Muriel had been nearly delirious with love for each other.

  Of course they’d had disagreements and arguments over the years, but those were few and far between. For the most part, he and Muriel lived in harmony, in a home filled with respect, tenderness, and love.

  Perhaps their love had seemed too perfect to Delilah. Did the girl think she’d never find what he’d shared with Muriel? Could that be the cause of her hesitation when it came to courting?

  He’d been pleased she’d allowed Deputy Harter to escort her several times, but he’d known from the start she held no genuine interest in the man, beyond friendship.

  Ross had discreetly made a few inquiries about both deputies. Seth Harter and Dugan Durfey were two fine, upstanding men, even if they were a bit rough around the edges, but then that was to be expected in a barely civilized town in the West. Seth and Dugan shared many similarities, from their impressive height and fit physiques to their charming smiles and dedication to their work.

  The one difference in the men that greatly interested Ross, though, was the fact Delilah fairly glowed whenever Dugan came within twenty-yards of her. He was sure Delilah had no idea her eyes followed Dugan and snapped with interest when she looked his way, but Ross had noticed.

  And he’d also made note of the deputy returning those interested looks. Dugan seemed like a good man — an honest, hardworking man — who’d make a good husband.

  But before Ross would allow the man to court his only child, he wanted to make sure Dugan would be better than a good husband. He needed to prove he’d be an exceptional husband for Delilah.

  As soon as he returned to Baker City, he planned to spend more time watching the deputy, observing how he treated Delilah. If he met the extensive criteria Ross had in mind, then he’d do all he could to help Dugan win his daughter’s hand.

  In the meantime, he was pleased to hear Dugan had been keeping an eye on Delilah when she was at the weather station. Not that he was afraid anything would happen to her, but he didn’t like her out there alone, especially in the early morning hours when it was still dark. She’d sent him a few brief telegrams to keep him updated on what was happening and mentioned Dugan’s presence.

  That she didn’t refer to the deputy as an unwanted or annoying presence gave Ross hope.

  She’d sent a message just that morning that Thane and Jemma Jordan had welcomed a bouncing baby boy on Good Friday. What a wonderful time of year for a new life to enter the world.

  Ross grinned as he walked d
own the hall and stepped into Delilah’s empty room. “Perhaps in a year or two, she’ll finally make me a grandpa,” he muttered. Assured he hadn’t left anything behind in his daughter’s sun-drenched room, he checked the remaining rooms then made one last trip up to the attic. He’d forgotten they even owned half of the belongings that had been shoved up into the storage space. It had taken him three days to sort through it all and decide what to keep, what to sell, and what needed to be hauled to the curb for the garbage wagon to retrieve.

  The attic stood empty and appeared slightly forlorn, mirroring a little of how Ross felt. It hurt to think of a new family moving into the house that had been his home for the past thirty years. A home where he’d loved his wife so well until her sudden and unexpected death eleven years ago.

  Ross left the attic and wandered through the second-floor rooms one last time. When Muriel collapsed and passed away, Delilah had been just fifteen. Yet, she’d offered him comfort in their shared grief and had seemingly overnight turned from an indulged girl to a responsible young woman.

  He sometimes wondered if Muriel’s death had forced Delilah into a role of managing his home before she was ready, but there had been a cook and housekeeper there, too. She’d always had the freedom to pursue her interests and hobbies. She’d even attended and graduated from a local university at the top of her class. He’d been surprised when she said she wanted to attend, but she’d gone and earned a degree in business. It was during her first year at college when she’d taken an art class that had taught her how to bring new depth and life to the sketches she made of birds.

  She’d been so excited to apply what she learned to her work and had succeeded far beyond what she’d dreamed.

  He’d always been proud of Delilah, but he almost burst the buttons right off his uniform the first time she’d had an article published in a New York newspaper. She’d even been asked to lecture at various colleges and seminars several times.

  Would she miss that? Miss the opportunities living in the East had provided?

  From what he’d observed, she seemed content with their move and quite pleased with the number of birds available for her to study in Baker City. And she sure wouldn’t have adopted a pet raccoon if they’d remained in the nation’s capital.

  A wry grin tugged the corners of his mouth upward as he thought about Oliver. At first, Ross had worried Delilah would contract rabies from the furry beast. After watching Oliver for several days, he concluded the animal was harmless as long as no one held food in their fingers. Oliver entertained Ross, but he delighted Delilah.

  Everyone had warned her Oliver would not only terrorize her birds, but also eat the eggs. She’d refused to admit defeat and instead decided she’d train him to leave the birds alone. He wondered how her training was coming and if the raccoon could be taught to overcome his instincts as far as Delilah’s backyard birds were concerned.

  Musing about his daughter and her pets over the years, Ross stopped in the bedroom he’d shared with Muriel. The scent of her fragrance still clung in the air. He closed his eyes, holding perfectly still, sure he could hear the sound of her voice in the whispers of the breeze blowing in the open window.

  “Goodbye, my love,” Ross said, and then strode to the window. He pushed it shut and locked the latch.

  With tears in his eyes, he made his way to the stairs where he’d left one last trunk that needed to join the others packed in the wagon outside, ready to take to the depot. He’d already sent ahead most of the furniture. After this load was shipped, he’d spend one more day settling affairs, meet with his superiors, and then head out for Baker City on the afternoon train.

  Ross hefted the trunk, took a step down and glanced over his shoulder one last time. The trunk weighed more than he expected and he suddenly found himself off balance. Before he could stop the momentum, the trunk dragged him forward and he tumbled with it down the stairs.

  When he came to, his left leg throbbed with pain and he looked up into the face of his longtime friend, John Vanguard.

  “Be still, Ross. Doctor Haywood will be here in a moment.” John placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him from rising.

  “What happened?” Ross tried to recall what had led to his current painful position sprawled at the base of the stairs.

  “I came over to see if you needed any help loading the last crates and trunks. You didn’t answer when I knocked, but the wagon you rented was still out front. I let myself in and found you here on the stairs. I don’t think anything is broken, but your leg could be.” John leaned back and shook his head. “At least you waited to take a spill until you were almost done packing up the house. It was good of you to not make me help do it all.”

  Ross grinned in spite of the pain clawing up his leg. “You’re welcome,” he said. He tried to glance behind him to locate the trunk that had thrown him off kilter.

  “I already carried the trunk out to the wagon. That thing was far too heavy to try to carry down the stairs alone. Did you forget you aren’t a spry young man any longer?”

  “Sometimes, I surely do, John. It seems like just yesterday I carried Muriel across the threshold of that door.” Ross pointed to the front door that stood open. “How could it have been thirty years ago?”

  “I don’t know, old friend. Time has a way of slipping by so quickly, doesn’t it?”

  Ross nodded then glanced up as the doctor arrived.

  After the man he’d known for twenty years finished prodding and probing his limbs, he shared his diagnosis. “Nothing is broken, but I fear you may have a concussion. Your left leg suffered quite a strain and your ankle is sprained. You need to stay completely off it for at least two weeks.”

  “But, I’m leaving tomorrow to head back to Oregon and Delilah, Thomas. I can’t sit around here for two weeks.” Ross pushed himself up and grabbed the banister of the stairs, prepared to get to his feet.

  John placed a restraining hand on his arm to keep him from rising.

  Doctor Haywood scowled at him. “You listen to me, Ross Robbins. I know you’re a stubborn old goat and just mule-headed enough to disregard everything I said, but if you want to continue enjoying the ability to walk without pain in the future, you will follow my advice to the letter. Understood?”

  “But I left Delilah in charge of my post. The poor girl thought it would just be for a few weeks, not more than a month,” Ross said, sagging against the steps behind him.

  Doctor Haywood grinned. “We all know that daughter of yours can handle anything tossed her way with one hand tied behind her back and still look like the epitome of grace and comportment while doing it.”

  Ross grinned. “Well, that’s true, but I haven’t a single stick of furniture left in the house and the new owners will move in day after tomorrow.”

  John squeezed his shoulder. “Then you’ll come home with me. Louise will be thrilled to have you. With Jason off at West Point and the girls all married with homes of their own, we have more than enough room for you to stay a few weeks.”

  “Thank you, John. I appreciate the invitation and your help.” Ross looked up at the doctor. “If I’m not allowed to put weight on my foot, how am I supposed to move around?”

  “You’re not,” the doctor said, his frown deepening. “But for the times when you absolutely must move, I’ll bring a pair of crutches over to John’s place for you to use.”

  “Fine. I don’t like it, but if following your orders will get me back to Delilah in one piece, then I’ll do as you say.” Ross held out both hands. “Now, if you gentlemen don’t mind helping me up, I still need to see about getting a wagon full of trunks shipped to my daughter.”

  “I paid the Evans boy down the street to take the wagon to the depot and drop off the trunks. He’ll return the wagon to the livery when he’s finished,” John said, pulling Ross up.

  Ross draped his arm over John’s shoulders for support while his friend bore a good portion of his weight. The doctor followed behind as Ross hopped on one foo
t out to John’s buggy.

  “I’ll be along shortly with the crutches,” Doctor Haywood said as he rushed to his buggy and left.

  “I don’t suppose I could get you to send Delilah a telegram for me?”

  “I think that might be arranged, but first, let’s get you back to my house and settled. You’ve got a bump on your head the size of a baseball.”

  Ross smirked at his friend, knowing how much John enjoyed the sport. “Speaking of baseball, did you…”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Evenin’, Miss Robbins,” the telegraph operator said as she stepped up to the counter to send the weather report to the home office. The man slid a telegram across the counter to her. “That just came for you a few minutes ago. I knew you’d be in soon, or I would have had it delivered.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Smithfield.” Delilah took the telegram in her hand then gave the man her outgoing message.

  While he sent the report, she read the brief missive.

  “Oh, no. This is horrible news!” Delilah’s hand went to her throat.

  Dugan had been half-listening to one of the old-timers tell a story as he waited for Delilah to send the evening report. At the look on her face, he stepped close beside her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  She handed him the telegram and leaned against the counter.

  ROSS INJURED IN FALL. UNABLE TO TRAVEL. TRIP HOME DELAYED. STAYING WITH US. TRUNKS ON TRAIN.

  Dugan read the message a second time before he handed it back to her. “I’m so sorry, Delilah. Is John Vanguard a friend?”

  She nodded. “He and Papa have been friends for as long as I can remember. They served in the Army together and lived just a street over from our house. I used to play with the Vanguard girls sometimes.” A sigh worked its way out of her chest. “I just wish I knew the extent of his injuries and if he needs me to come take care of him.”

  “It sounds like he’s hurt, but not too badly. If he was in really bad shape, he’d probably be at the hospital instead of with Mr. Vanguard. And a delay in the trip is better than it being canceled,” Dugan said, trying to sound encouraging. “What does ‘trunks on train’ mean?”