Page 13 of The Love Knot

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.

Chapter

7

Claire pushed away from the paddock fence when she saw Pieter exit the station house. Her heart ached with yearning at the sight of him. She still loved him. Desperately. But she wouldn’t pledge her life to a man until she was certain of him. Just look what had happened to her mam. She’d tied herself to a jolly man with wanderlust in his veins and ended up far from home, chained to a drunkard who spouted ugliness at his own kin as if they were the enemy. Her mam never spoke ill of her da, but every time he drank away his earnings or lost his temper with one of the girls, Claire could see the heartbreak and regret in her mam’s eyes.

Marriage was a leap of faith, and Claire wouldn’t be makin’ the jump blindfolded.