Page 15 of The Heart’s Charge

He chanced a quick glance away from the baby and caught a diabolical twinkle in her eyes.

“Oh no. I held her the entire ride out here.” She brushed past him, pausing just long enough to give his back a patronizing pat as she went. “It’s definitely your turn.”

He looked at the baby. Then at Miss Southerland’s retreating back. Then back to the baby, her cries boosting his panic and galvanizing his feet.

“Hold up.”

She spun to face him but continued backing away. “What was it you told me? Something about this baby being an assignment from the Almighty?” Her lips twitched at one end. “I certainly wouldn’t want to interfere with your sacred duty.” Her gaze dropped from his face to the wailing babe, blanket unswaddled and dangling, feet kicking. “I’m sure you have everything”—her eyes met his again—“well in hand.”

Her skirt billowed as she executed a perfect about-face and strode away.

Jonah eyed the baby. “She don’t think I can handle you,” he murmured as determination fired in his blood. “Time to prove her wrong.”

As if the babe understood him, she ceased her wailing and blinked at him.

A team player. Good.

Cupping his right hand more firmly around the back of Sarah’s skull, Jonah positioned her along the length of his forearm, then tucked her close to his body like a sack of potatoes, and marched after Miss Southerland, his longer strides allowing him to catch—and pass—her before they reached the front porch. As if not to be outdone, her strides lengthened to keep pace with his so that they reached the house at the same time. The urge to win pulsed strongly through his veins, but good manners took precedence. Halting at the base of the porch steps, Jonah pivoted sideways and gestured for Miss Southerland to precede him.

She glared at him instead.

Then, all at once, her face was directly in front of his as she moved not to the steps but to his position. Close enough for him to smell roses. From her soap, maybe? Whatever it was from, it was mighty distracting. Made him notice other things. Like the fact that her waist was only four inches away from his left hand, a hand that suddenly itched to fit itself to that particular curve. And her mouth. Just two inches below his. Her lips weren’t smiling, but they weren’t exactly frowning neither. More like suspended halfway between, still deciding on a direction. Which result would a kiss achieve?

Get your mind back on business, Brooks.

At the same moment the silent scold pierced his mind, Miss Southerland reached for the baby and reclaimed Sarah from his potato hold, her mind obviously on nothing but business. Yet when a loud creak announced the opening of the front door, a touch of color darkened her cheeks as she lurched away from him.

Maybe her mind hadn’t been completely on business after all.

“Eliza Southerland.” A thickset black woman, hair streaked with silver, walked out onto the porch, her eyes shining nearly as brightly as the yellow apron she wore over a drab gray gown. “Did you go and catch yourself a man without tellin’ me a thing about it? Shame on you for keepin’ secrets, girl. ’Specially when they’s as handsome as this’un.”

Miss Southerland’s cheeks darkened further. Jonah bit back a grin.

“I did not catch myself a man, Miss Georgia,” she insisted in a voice haughty enough to belong to Queen Victoria herself. Jonah half expected to see the back of her skirt lengthen into a fancy train covered in beads and lace as she made the short climb up the porch steps. “I caught myself a newborn foundling in need of a wet nurse. You know full well that children are my only concern.”

“And you know my thoughts on a woman closin’ herself off to opportunities the Good Lord drops in her lap because she’s too blinded by her own notions.”

Miss Southerland’s head dipped slightly. “Yes, well, just because you were right about Katherine doesn’t mean you’re right about everything.”

Georgia Harris placed a hand on Miss Southerland’s shoulder, her face softening. “’Course it don’t, sugar. I make as many mistakes as the next woman.” She gave a small chuckle. “Prob’ly more, since I got a weakness for meddlin’.” Her gaze fell to baby Sarah. She pushed down the fabric that had bunched up around the infant’s neck to get a better look. “Let’s get you and this sweet child in the house. I got just the nurse in mind. Tildy James is fixin’ to wean her youngest. I’m sure she’d be willin’ to feed this young’un for a spell. Might even help keep her womb empty a little longer. Heaven knows that gal has a talent for gettin’ herself with child.”

“A hazard of catching oneself a man,” Miss Southerland muttered.

Miss Georgia cackled as she steered her charge toward the front door, shaking her head as she went. “You got yourself a point, there, ’Liza. Though there’s nothing sweeter than holding a babe created from the love shared between a wife and her husband.” She paused on the threshold, her voice growing nostalgic. “I thank God ever’ day for the three children he done gave Abe and me. Havin’ them’s the only thing that made losin’ Abe bearable.” Her work-worn hand circled Miss Southerland’s arm. “Takin’ care of children like you do is a holy callin’, ’Liza girl, but so is bein’ a wife and mother. And in all my Bible readin’, I ain’t never come across a passage that says you can’t do both. Keep your eyes and your heart open, child. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

Pretty sure the womenfolk had forgotten his existence, and certain he didn’t want to be roped into any conversation centered around marriage and procreating, Jonah eased his steps back the way he’d come. Tending horses might not be as holy a calling as tending children, but about now he was definitely feeling the urge to get as far away from Miss Georgia and her meddling as possible.

Before he could make a clean escape, however, Miss Georgia turned and speared him with a gaze as targeted as any sharpshooter’s. “Come on into the house, mister,” she said. “I’ve got coffee on the back burner and fresh bread in the pie safe.”

Jonah tugged his hat from his head in a show of manners he hoped would cover his retreat. “Maybe in a bit, ma’am.” After the conversation had shifted to something safer. Like Comanches. “I need to see to the horses.”

“Uh-huh.” Skepticism dripped from her tone, but she didn’t press him. “I’ll send Samuel out to help ya.”

“Much obliged.” More for her allowing his escape than for the help, but she probably knew that too.

Samuel turned out to be a boy of around ten, one of Miss Georgia’s eight grandchildren who apparently took weeklong shifts living with her throughout the year. To keep the lonelies away, according to Samuel, who had inherited his grandmother’s chatty nature.

Since there was no point in unhitching the wagon when they’d be headed off to another homestead soon to deliver the baby, Samuel fetched a bucket of water for the ponies to share while Jonah double-checked rigging he knew to be secure. He did take a closer look at the rear axle, though, not liking the cracks in the wood. A broken axle could strand one of the Harmony House ladies out in the middle of nowhere the next time they went out. The thought of Eliza alone on the road with nothing but her pride to protect her soured his stomach. The wagon needed serious repairs.