Abby and Joshua Read online

  Abby

  and

  Joshua

  Three Brides

  Texas Triad, Book 3

  ABAGAIL ELDAN

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  *This book was previously published as Down to the River.

  This ebook is not for resale.

  Texas Triad takes place in fictionalized towns, although several towns and cities that actually exist might be mentioned. The descriptions of the towns are flavored with artistic license. This is not a history or geography book, although I attempted to remain true to the times and places whenever possible. Instead, it is a work of fiction that tells a story.

  Copyright © 2017 Abagail Eldan

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Robbie and Taron

  Libby and Ander

  Note from the Author, Abagail Eldan

  Chapter One

  The young cowboy tipped his hat. “There you go, ma’am. Mr. Taron wanted me to get these to you right away.”

  A slight breeze fluttered the curtain at the kitchen window, bringing with it the smell of horses and sunshine. The outside tugged her very soul, and she longed to shed her apron and follow the pull.

  Instead, she shook her head at Joshua. “No need to call me ma’am. You make me feel old.” And she was, maybe not old but older. Why, he was just a young’n when she’d first moved to the ranch almost ten years ago. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen. Back then, she’d been young herself, nineteen, and naïve, not knowing most men went after their wants, regardless of the consequences. She touched a hand to her swelling belly to confirm her thoughts.

  “Sorry, Abby. I don’t mean to make you feel old. You look as young as one of the fillies running through the pasture.”

  She giggled, not at all dismayed being compared to a horse, a high compliment coming from him. Her disillusionment with men faded for a moment. “Please tell Mr. Taron thank you for me.” Even her pregnancy was forgotten, and she became a young lady flirting with a young man.

  “Yes ... Abby. I’ll be sure to.” His eyes searched hers, as if probing her very depths, before he tipped his hat again and began to move away.

  But before he made it out the door, four-year-old Susie pushed past him. Shrieking to wake the dead, she barreled into the kitchen. “Mama, Mama! Tait hit me.” She hid behind her mother, holding her apron.

  Tait, his eyes blazing with fury, charged in. Joshua blocked him and caught her son by the arm. He shot Abby a look.

  She gave him a slight nod, and Joshua knelt to hold her son at arm’s length. “Why did you hit your sister?”

  “I didn’t hit her, I kicked her. I was bringing in the firewood for the stove, and she tripped me.” Tait squirmed against Joshua’s hold.

  Susie spoke from behind her, poking her head out. “You messed up the drawing I made in the dirt.”

  Tait twisted his body to glare at his sister. “How was I supposed to know? I couldn’t see with a load of firewood in my arms.”

  “Well, Tait ...” Joshua said, keeping his gaze locked on her son.

  Tait’s eyes, so much like his father’s, regained focus, and his cheeks reddened as Joshua continued holding him. Tait stilled. “Yes, sir?”

  “Reckon we can figure out how to fix the problem?”

  Tait stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  Joshua chuckled. “The floor needin’ an apology?”

  Tait looked up and gave Joshua a tentative smile. “No, sir.” He threw a glance in Susie’s direction. “Sorry, Suse.”

  “That’s a good start,” Abby put in, embarrassed that Joshua witnessed her children’s behavior but relieved to have his help. Tait rarely responded to her. He probably blamed her for George’s leaving.

  Joshua released his grip on Tait but remained kneeling, one arm on a knee. He tilted his head and then scratched his chin. “Susie, what else could we do so this won’t happen again?”

  “When I trip Tait, blame Wade?” she piped up.

  Joshua tried, without much success, to suppress a laugh.

  “Susie!” Abby scolded.

  “Sorry, Mama.” She shrugged. “I reckon I need to stay out of Tait’s way.”

  Tait sniffed the air. “Mama, the biscuits are burning!”

  All the commotion awakened the baby. Without Abby asking, Joshua scooted over, still on his knees, to where the Babbitt baby lay on a pallet. Abby hurried to the stove and cast a glance back. She breathed a sigh of relief. Joshua patted Catherine’s back, and the baby’s cries slowly diminished.

  In only a moment, Abby had rescued the biscuits and flipped them onto a plate. She pushed them to the back of the stove’s warmer and then walked over to Joshua, holding out her arms.

  Joshua’s warm brown eyes searched hers. “Her diaper needs changing. Want me to do it?”

  Abby was so surprised by the offer her arms became limp and fell to her sides.

  Tait stared at Joshua, his mouth agape, and then snorted. “Men don’t change diapers. That’s woman’s work.”

  “Tait, buddy, a man’s work is to help wherever and whenever he can.” Joshua glanced up at her through his lashes. “Don’t you agree, Abby?”

  Abby didn’t answer but lifted her hands again. “Thank you for your offer, but I’ll take her.”

  Joshua handed her the baby but before he could stand, Susie climbed on his back.

  “Will you be my pony?” Susie asked.

  He gave a neigh for an answer and got to his feet to make a couple of gallops around the kitchen.

  Abby put out an arm to stop them. “Susie, Mr. Joshua needs to get going.”

  Joshua nodded. “Reckon Mr. Taron will wonder where I got off to.”

  Susie slid off his back. “Can we play again tomorrow?”

  “Sure. If your mama doesn’t mind.”

  “Mr. Joshua has better things to do with his time, Susie.” She turned to face Joshua, “I’m sorry for keeping you.”

  Joshua shook his head. “No need to be sorry. Those cows will still be there when I get back.”

  “But you won’t get in trouble with Mr. Taron?” Her husband, George, had often used Mr. Babbitt as an excuse for hurrying off. She now knew it’d been a ruse to rendezvous with the housekeeper.

  “No, ma’am ...”

  “Joshua ...” She sighed in exasperation.

  “I mean, Abby. Sorry. I don’t mean to keep saying ma’am. It ain’t ’cause you’re old.” Worry lines appeared across his forehead.

  “Older than you.” Abby checked Catherine’s diaper and shooed Joshua toward the door. “I’d better get this diaper changed. Don’t forget to tell Mr. Taron thank you for me.” She wasn’t sure why she kept saying it. The staples he’d brought were as much for Mr. Babbitt and his family as for hers. She cooked for the Babbitts as well as cared for their daughter.

  “I’ll be sure to.” Joshua tipped his hat again, his lips curving into a slow smile.

  He left, and Abby walked to the kitchen window to watch him, oblivious to the dirty diaper. Joshua turned before he mounted his horse and caught sight of her at the window. He grinned and raised a hand. Abby’s cheeks burned, and she ducked out of sight.

  Mrs. Babbitt came into the kitchen and held out her hands. Abby handed her Catherine and Mrs. Babbitt’s nose wrinkled. “Time for a change, I see.”

  “I was about to get her a clean diaper,” Abby apologized.

  “I’ll do it. You need to get off your feet with those swollen ankles. And I’ll finish setting the table after I change Catherine.” Mrs. Babbitt cooed at her baby and walked out of the kitchen.

  Abby glanced down at her feet and sighed deeply. Why had she watched Joshua from the window? Even if she admired him and could forget their age difference, she was still married, even if her husband had run off with that hussy and no one knew where.

  And, besides, why would Joshua be interested in her? Three young’ns with a fourth on the way and her feet swollen as big as an elephant’s. She must have spoken the last out loud.

  “No, they’re not, Mama,” Suse said.

  “Not what?” Abby said, absentmindedly.

  “As big as an elephant’s. If they were that big, you couldn’t fit through the door.”

  Abby smiled. “Go call Wade. It’s time for dinner.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, Abby?”

  “Susie! I’m your mother! You do not address me by my given name. You say ‘ma’am.’ Where are your manners?”

  “But you told Mr. Joshua not to say ma’am. You said it made you feel old.”

  “He’s not my daughter, now is he?” She glanced at her son. “Tait, go get your brother.”

  “But you told Susie.”

  “And now I’m telling you. Hurry up. The food’s getting cold.”

  Tait, his feet dragging, went out the door. Abby helped Susie wash her hands and then they set the table.

  By the time Tait returned with Wade, Mrs. Babbitt was back with Catherine. Abby offered to take her, but Mrs. Babbitt sh
ook her head. “I can hold her while I eat. As your doctor, I’ve given you a directive, and yet you are still on your feet. Are you refusing to do as I say?”

  Abby searched Mrs. Babbitt’s eyes. “No, ma’am, but I’ve got to feed my children, and you employed me to take care of Catherine.”

  Mrs. Babbitt studied her for a second, and heat rose to Abby’s cheeks under her scrutiny. She got her children to the table and then sat down.

  “We must get you some help,” Mrs. Babbitt said. “In the meantime, Tait is old enough to help and even Wade.”

  “I’m almost nine, Mrs. Babbitt,” Tait said, looking so much like his father with his shoulders pulled back, and his gaze directed at her employer. “But I need to be doing a man’s work.”

  Mrs. Babbitt smiled at him. “That’s true, but I’m sure you could be a big help to your mother.”

  “I don’t know how to do woman’s work, but I can rope a calf.” Tait dug into the stew Abby had prepared.

  “I want to rope a calf,” Susie piped up.

  Tait narrowed his eyes at his sister. “Girls ain’t got no business roping.”

  “Children,” Abby scolded. “Tait, Susie, eat your dinner.”

  There had been no need to include Wade. He’d already cleaned his plate and watched her. When she noticed him, she nodded. “You can be excused Wade.”

  His chair scraped across the wood floor, and he darted to the door. Almost seven and his words were few and far between. She scrunched her forehead. Maybe she should quit anticipating his unspoken questions and force him to speak.

  Worry gnawed her. She’d had a miscarriage five months after Tait had been born. Less than two months after the miscarriage, she’d become pregnant with Wade. Sometimes she wondered if her pregnancies so close together somehow damaged Wade, destroyed his capacity to communicate.

  She shook her head. He communicated. He understood perfectly but refused to speak. Refused? Or was there some other reason? Wade wasn’t the type to deliberately disobey.

  A knock came at the backdoor. Abby jumped to her feet, but Mrs. Babbitt waved her back down. “I’ll get it. You finish eating and rest a bit.”

  Mrs. Babbitt left the dining room, carrying Catherine. Voices drifted in through the open windows, but Abby could not make out what was being said.

  Mrs. Babbitt returned and caught her eye. “Abby, when you finish eating, come into the infirmary. I’d like to speak to you.”

  “But what about Catherine ...”

  “You do remember I have an extra cradle in the infirmary? My daughter can go with us. And we’ll let Tait clean up the table.”

  Tait’s eyes widened. Abby feared he’d refuse, but he nodded at Mrs. Babbitt. “Yes, ma’am. But Suse has to help, too.”

  “I will,” Susie agreed.

  Mrs. Babbitt walked out of sight, and Abby encouraged her children to finish their dinner. And then she hurried after Mrs. Babbitt and hoped the young’ns didn’t break many dishes.

  Chapter Two

  Mrs. Babbitt surprised Abby when she sat down behind her desk and directed Abby to a chair across from her. Several competing smells drifted around the room — medicines, Abby speculated, but none overpowering, and Mrs. Babbitt wore perfume, smelling of lavender and something she was not familiar with.

  “I have some news for you ...” Mrs. Babbitt paused. “This might be difficult to hear.”

  “Please continue. I’d rather know than guess.” Abby squared her shoulders.

  “Taron came by to tell me Anita’s brothers caught up with your husband.” Mrs. Babbitt leaned forward and reached across the table, her hand open to her.

  Abby’s heart pounded in her chest. She took Mrs. Babbitt’s hand. “And what of George?”

  “I’m afraid he’s dead.” Robbie squeezed her hand.

  For a moment, Abby failed to comprehend the words. “Dead? George is dead?”

  “I’m afraid so. It happened a couple of weeks after your husband and Anita left together. Over four weeks now.”

  Abby pulled her hand from Mrs. Babbitt’s grip and folded her hands in her lap. “Four weeks? He’s been dead four weeks?”

  “I’m so sorry.” Mrs. Babbitt still leaned across the table and her eyes searched Abby’s. “I know it is a shock. Can I do anything for you?”

  Abby shook her head slowly, as if that would help clear it. “No, ma’am. I’m fine.” Emotions swirled through her, none settling into place. “Why has no one told me?”

  “Word just came. We’ve only learned a few minutes ago.”

  “Where is the body? Please tell me all the details.”

  Mrs. Babbitt shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “I have little information. George and Anita made it as far as St. Louis ...”

  Abby’s eyes widened. “St. Louis? Why would they travel east?”

  “That I do not know. One of Anita’s brothers shot your husband when they caught up with them, although all three brothers have been arrested. Anita claimed George’s body, saying she was his wife, and took charge of the funeral arrangements. She has since disappeared.” She leaned forward again. “We’ll help you any way we can. We know where the grave is located, but of course you cannot travel in your condition.”

  Abby nodded in agreement. She had no desire to see the grave anyway.

  “Later we can make travel arrangements ...”

  “No, ma’am. That won’t be necessary.”

  “We can employ the services of a lawyer if Mr. Harrington had any assets you wish to recover?”

  Abby’s mind raced. Anita probably had all of the money George had taken with him, but it wasn’t much — it would cost more to recover than it was worth. “No, ma’am. We didn’t have much money.”

  Mrs. Babbitt nodded, and she stood. “Remember, we’re here to help you any way we can.”

  Abby pushed against the arms of the chair to rise, and a pain coursed through her. She doubled over and stifled a cry.

  Mrs. Babbitt came around the desk. “What is it?”

  “A contraction ... but it’s gone now. I’m fine.” She straightened and was relieved to see the pain had indeed receded.

  Mrs. Babbitt returned to her seat and motioned for her to sit down. Abby hesitated and then complied.

  Mrs. Babbitt pulled a record book to her and opened it to a clean page. “Tell me about your pregnancies,” She took her pen from its holder and dipped it into the ink. “How many times have you been in the family way?”

  Abby gathered her thoughts, reluctant to speak.

  “Tell me about all of your pregnancies,” Mrs. Babbitt persisted. “You have three children and a fourth on the way. Any other pregnancies?” She wrote Abby’s name across the top of the page.

  Abby sighed deeply and looked away. If she got up and left, she wouldn’t have to remember. But Mrs. Babbitt asked for a reason, and maybe she needed to know, to help her. After she mulled it over for another second, Abby spoke. “I’ve lost two babies, no three babies ...”

  “Three miscarriages and three live births with a fourth on the way.” She scratched in the book. “And that, I believe, is seven pregnancies within a period of nine years?” Mrs. Babbitt’s voice remained professional, unemotional. She continued making notations in the book.

  “Yes, Mrs. Babbitt ...” Heat crept into Abby’s cheeks. Mrs. Babbitt had asked to be called Dr. Rutherford when she was in the infirmary. She had explained to Abby it was to honor her father who had died traveling west. He had planned to go into practice with Mrs. Babbitt. “I mean, Dr. Rutherford.”

  When she’d finished making the notation, she looked up and smiled softly. “You may call me Robbie.”

  Clattering came from the direction of the kitchen. Abby started to her feet, but Robbie waved her down. A small bell sat on the desk, and Robbie rang it. Walter appeared.

  “Walter, do you mind watching Mrs. Harrington’s children?”

  He didn’t look too sure for a moment but then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He shuffled away.

  Abby barely knew Walter, since he rarely came into the main part of the house. His appearance had not assured her that he could handle her children. She was all too aware of their stubbornness.

  Robbie dipped her pen again and wrote some more. Abby sat quietly and wondered what she could be writing. Could all of that be about her?