Kendrick Read online

  “Aunt Lydia, Charlotte and I don’t have any problems walking about town during the daytime. However, I think from now on, we’ll come here through the back way.”

  Charlotte addressed Kendrick. “Mr. Denham, before you leave to get Sunshine, perhaps you can unlock your back door so we can come into the house.”

  Lydia blinked and looked between the two girls. “Sunshine?”

  “My mule, Mrs. Meyer. I could keep the animal here, except with my butchering operation, I figure she’s happier in the livery than where she’d be smelling dead animals all day and night. Plus, I really don’t have the room for an animal that big.”

  “I see. I think my sister said she keeps the team for her surrey at the livery, too.”

  Caroline nodded. “She used to keep them in the back yard but decided she didn’t like the smell…”

  “…because Papa wasn’t always around to keep the pole barn clean.”

  Caroline sighed. “I do sort of miss them, don’t you, Lottie? I enjoyed petting them and sneaking apples and carrots out to them.”

  Her hands on her hips, Charlotte turned to her sister. “Think about it, Caro. Having them at the livery is better than Mama deciding we’re old enough to shovel out the pole barn.”

  Lydia suppressed a laugh. She glanced at Kendrick long enough to see the glint of merriment in his eyes above lips he kept pressed together.

  Kendrick cleared his throat. “Mrs. Meyer, I think I have everything you need for Madeline out here. Her crock of milk and a cup are in the corner of the crib.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine, Mr. Denham. Thank you.”

  Charlotte reached for her sister’s arm and pulled her toward the door. “If we keep standing in the middle of the room like this, it won’t be long before people will be watching Madeline or Aunt Lydia through the window. Let’s go, Caro.”

  Lydia retreated to the rocker with the baby. She listened as Kendrick hollered at the young man outside. Next, she heard several pairs of footsteps walk on the boardwalk in front of where she sat. Mr. Denham might think he was escorting her nieces home. However, she knew the girls intended to double-back, bypass the tea shop, and walk the long way to the mercantile.

  When Lydia looked down, she saw Madeline twist in her arms and stare in the direction of the door Kendrick closed behind him.

  The baby whimpered as she leaned toward where she had last seen him and held out an arm, the fingers on her hand opening and closing.

  Lydia supported the baby with both hands as she set the rocking chair in motion. She recognized Madeline had grown a deep enough attachment to Kendrick that his leaving her behind frightened her. Hoping to reassure her, she spoke to the baby in soothing tones. “Your papa will return soon, Madeline. He has to make a quick trip, and then he will come back to you.”

  She smiled down on the baby, whose round eyes studied her. “Madeline, you are such a good baby. From what I’ve heard, you’ve been introduced to many new people in the last few days. Still, you are so good.”

  Lydia twisted one of Madeline’s short curls around her fingers. “Cole has curly hair. I’m not sure where he got it from. My hair is as straight as a board.” She continued to talk about her sons, even though she knew the baby could not understand the words she spoke. She hoped, if nothing else, her tone of voice would comfort the child. She knew enough of Madeline’s history to know she had been uprooted from everything and everyone she had known in her short life.

  Lydia glanced over at the blue, yellow, and white quilt in the baby’s bed. Perhaps she had not been uprooted from everything, but, surely, from everyone she had known and loved.

  Rocked back and forth several times, she blinked as tears began to fill her eyes. She held the baby tight to her chest. “Can I tell you about my little girl, Madeline? I know your mama died a couple of weeks ago. It’s been over two years since my Mary died. Like Cole—and you—she had brunette hair and dark eyes. She never grew to be as old as you are. Something was wrong with her lungs, and she died the day after she was born.” She paused, as she allowed her grief and sorrow to claim their place in her heart. “Your papa will return to you, Madeline. My Mary is gone from this earth. My only hope is I will one day see her after my life has ended, also.” Lost in her memories, she rocked several more minutes.

  Lydia looked down in the face of the now-asleep baby. “Thank you for listening, Madeline. I had to grieve Mary’s loss quietly, because her father felt uncomfortable about any show of emotion. I thought I had all my tears cried out. But, you’re the first baby girl I’ve held since we buried Mary, and I guess I needed this one last time.”

  Upon hearing a key grate in the lock to the front door, Lydia quickly brushed aside her tears and looked up as Kendrick entered. “She’s asleep, Mr. Denham.” Hoping to hide her tear-stained face, Lydia dropped her gaze to the baby’s head.

  Kendrick stepped toward her. “Sorry to disturb you now you have her settled down once more. I have to walk through and unbar the back gate to bring the mule in the yard. I’ll come back through here to lock you in again once my wagon is outside. At least our curious onlooker has gone elsewhere, for the time being.”

  Realizing his quieter tones sounded deeper than she recalled his voice being, Lydia wondered if he had seen her tears after all. She gently patted the baby’s bottom. “She feels dry, but her clothes smell of urine. After you leave again, I’ll try to put her down in the crib and sneak in back to wash some of her things.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Mrs. Meyer.”

  “I know, but I want to. You’re paying me to watch her. I wish to do as much as I can to help you make life better for her.”

  Chapter 14

  Sunday, May 27, 1854

  K endrick closed his door after his last Sunday customer walked out. Although he appreciated a day of rest as much as the next man, out of consideration for the miners who often lived from day-to-day based on what they could pull out of the ground, for a short time each Sunday, he opened up for them to be able to buy the meat and eggs they needed for the day.

  Kendrick walked to the counter where he picked up the egg basket. Empty. Same with the crockery dish on the far end where he kept his hard-cooked eggs. As it had been the last couple of days, business this morning had been brisk, with the baby being a bigger attraction than the eggs, ham, and sausages he offered for sale.

  I sure hope Jeb gets that rail built soon. I get tired of hollering at these idiots not to touch the crib or the baby.

  A loud squeal from the direction of the crib drew his attention. He looked over to see a grinning Madeline, her hands clasping the balusters on the crib rail, half-seated, half pulling herself up as if trying to stand.

  Kendrick lifted his eyes to the ceiling. He liked her just fine being able to sit by herself but not yet able to crawl or walk. He had already been warned. Once she developed those skills, he would be running after her and pulling her out of trouble every time he turned around.

  Kendrick walked over to lift Madeline out of her crib. “Time to go in back, sweet thing, and find you some milk. Waggles made it special for you.” Once he had her settled firmly on his forearm, Kendrick pushed the door to his kitchen open before he grabbed the end of the crib and pulled it behind him into the room.

  After he had resettled the crib where it belonged in his bedroom, he changed Madeline’s diaper and fed her a cup of milk. He next picked her up, snatched the quilt from inside her crib, and headed for the back door. “We’re going to find you a shady spot where you can watch me weed my garden. Yes, I know it’s usually women’s work. However, if a man around here wants an onion or carrot for his stew now and then, he either needs to pay top dollar at the green grocer or grow his own. And you see those two apple trees over there? I planted them when I first bought this land. Once they start bearing fruit, if I kept Sunshine here, she’d eat the apples when they’re green before I could even get them ripe enough for me.”

  Another good reason I keep my yard secur
ed. If it became known I grow some of my own food, I’d have every hungry vagrant wandering through here helping themselves to my garden—for something to go along with whatever they took from the smokehouse.

  Madeline’s eyes followed his waving arms. She chortled as if she understood every word he spoke.

  Kendrick found a spot with a patch of grass and enough shade to protect the baby’s skin. Although it was mostly brown grass now that it had been over a month since the last rain storm, it was large enough to cushion Madeline. He flipped the quilt with one hand several times until it dropped on the ground flat enough for him to set Madeline on it while he spread out the corners and edges. “I’m going into the house long enough to bring out a cup and some cool water for us, but I’ll be right back.” Kendrick rose to his feet and started for the house. Upon hearing her begin to fuss, he turned back.

  Madeline had twisted her body, and she held her hands out to him.

  The scene almost broke his heart. Fighting off an overwhelming sense of guilt that he deserted the baby in a place unfamiliar to her, even for less than a minute, Kendrick forced himself to keep the purpose for leaving her temporarily in mind. “I’ll return right quick, darling.” He raced in the house, grabbed a crock jug he filled with water, a tin cup, and his wooden spoon with the shortest handle before he rushed back outside. He sighed with relief when, realizing she saw him coming, she stopped crying, and her smile returned.

  Kendrick lowered himself to the ground near the edge of the quilt. He poured the cup half full of water and supported the baby’s shoulders while he offered it to her.

  She gulped down most of it and turned her head.

  Kendrick guessed that meant she wanted no more. He refilled the cup and drank his water in a few swallows. “I need to work now, but I’ll be right over there, where you can see me.” He handed her the wooden spoon. “Here's something for you to play with, Madeline.” I sure hope babies don’t poke their eyes out with wooden spoon handles. Kendrick sighed. Maybe he should ask Lydia what he could get her for toys.

  Lydia—no, Mrs. Meyer. She deserves my respect. He knew she had recently completed an arduous journey from her former home in Pennsylvania. In spite of Dorcas Thompson’s intentions of getting her sister married off and out of the Thompson house, Kendrick suspected Lydia Meyer’s life was still too unsettled for her to welcome the prospect of being pursued by the men of Columbia. He needed to remember he was nothing to her but an employer, one who, she made clear before she left the previous night, would provide the means for her to pay her sister for her sons’ education, plus other costs of living in the Thompson home.

  That most of the money he would pay Lydia Meyer would end up benefitting that shrew, Dorcas Thompson, rather than be used to buy the clothes and other personal items her family needed, griped Kendrick to no end. Still, it was not his decision. One good thing about the situation was, she had assured him she could work as long as he needed her each day. Since she would be paying her sister for much of her keep, she only needed to see to the chores of her own children, not those of her sister, also.

  Kendrick smiled as he recalled the night before. After he completed his Saturday meat deliveries and returned home, he prepared to back his wagon into its shed. The first change he noticed in his backyard was Mrs. Meyer had washed Madeline’s clothes and diapers and hooked them to the clothesline. He shook his head. He had not considered laundry part of the job for which he hired her, but he admitted to himself all those clean clothes were a welcome sight. It meant he had one less task he needed to see to this day.

  As his thoughts turned to what she might be doing at that moment, Kendrick felt his throat tighten. She was probably sitting in church with her family, maybe next to that hypocrite holier-than-thou sister of hers, her mind a million miles away from thinking of him and Madeline. She could be exchanging greetings and small-talk with potential suitors—one of whom she might marry. That would end her availability to care for Madeline.

  As for him, ever since she had handed the baby back to him the night before and made her excuses to leave, he had barely been able to go more than a few minutes without his thoughts turning toward her. In his mind, he had pictured her fixing their meal in his kitchen while he brought in water and wood for the stove. Then he held Madeline in his lap while she fed the baby. While he rocked Madeline to sleep, he recalled how he had found Lydia when he returned the day before. Singing a lullaby while the floor creaked below the chair, she paused long enough to kiss the soft curls on Madeline’s head. The worst was when he tried to relax once he climbed into his bed. He visualized her, wearing a white nightgown like he had seen on his mother and sisters, lying next to him…no, he refused to let his mind go there. She would not appreciate it.

  He had been a randy young man, not yet twenty, the last time a woman had affected him this way. Unfortunately, after sharing a few kisses with him behind the tree that shaded the chapel he once attended back in Indiana, the love interest of his youth started stepping out with his best friend. He left to join the Army the week before their wedding.

  Time to put such futile thoughts aside. Kendrick stood and walked toward his garden plot several feet away. Down on his knees, pulling out the burr clover that seemed to have invaded in force, he heard a banging noise behind him. He turned his head.

  Madeline, the handle of the wooden spoon in one hand, slammed the bowl end against the tin cup which had been flipped on its side.

  Wearing a smile, Kendrick turned back to his weeding. Maybe kitchen items made pretty good toys.

  Madeline slapped the spoon down twice more, the second time once again making contact with the tin cup. She then burst out in giggles.

  Kendrick twisted his upper body and looked over his shoulder in time to watch her bounce her body every which way, the motion causing her to tumble on her side. She landed with a grunt. He clamored to his feet, brushed off the knees of his pants, and started toward her with the intent of helping her sit once more. He stopped once he realized Madeline pushed herself in a sitting position by herself.

  Much to Madeline’s displeasure, once he returned her to the house to fix her noon meal, he put her in the crib while he cooked her food. The thought occurred that it would soon be too hot to cook later in the evening unless he moved his stove outdoors, he knew he needed to find out what other kinds of food he could prepare for her—cold foods. Charlotte and Caroline had broken bread into small bites and soaked them in milk. What were some other foods? Lydia would know.

  Kendrick sighed as he stirred the peeled and pitted apricots he steamed in his skillet. The sight of the fruit brought to mind one reason he felt grateful so many Italians had immigrated to the region. Many of them settled on land near water, but away from the gold fields, so they could plant orchards and vineyards. The freight companies, and even some of the stagecoaches, brought an assortment of fresh fruit in season to Columbia’s stores.

  Worn down by hearing the baby cry, Kendrick pulled the pans off the stove and placed them on wooden trivets on his dry sink drainboard. He lifted a now-smiling Madeline out of her crib and brought her into the kitchen. Following the example set by the twins, he plopped the baby in one of his chairs and, grabbing the diaper he had tossed over his shoulder, he tied her to the back of the chair. Unlike the girls, he lifted the chair and placed it in the middle of his table so he could stand up while feeding her.

  In order to finish fixing her meal, Kendrick turned his back for what he was certain was no more than a second before he heard Madeline call out a cry of distress. He spun around to find that, although she was still tied to the chair back, she had wiggled until she lay across the chair sideways. Her feet kicked the air to the right of the seat while her arms waved off the opposite side.

  Kendrick dropped the pan with the apricots and the spoon and rushed toward her. Even as he reached for Madeline, he guessed that he now had mushed apricot splattered over half his kitchen. At the moment, he did not care. He rescued the baby by moving her t
o an upright sitting position again. He turned the chair so the back faced him. Ignoring the awkwardness of his grip, he wrapped his left arm around both Madeline and the chair back and lifted the two off the table. He returned to the dry sink counter. He salvaged as much of the apricot sauce as he could and scooped it into the bowl of mush. Chair and Madeline in one arm, and the bowl of her food in the hand of the other, he spun around and deposited everything on the table.

  Holding Madeline in place with one hand, he twisted side to side while he searched for where he left the jug of goat’s milk earlier. Spying it on the floor in the corner the farthest distance from the stove, he turned to the baby and shook his finger in her face. “Don’t move.” Right. Like she is going to understand what I said and obey. Kendrick heaved a sigh. He must take the chance that he could reach the milk jug and return to within holding distance of Madeline before she performed another acrobatic feat.

  Jug in hand and Madeline still upright in her chair, Kendrick poured milk into the apricot-mush mixture and stirred. He had already figured out by himself that the baby more easily accepted the mush if he had it sweetened with either honey or cooked fruit. Several spoonsful later on his part, and laughs, drips out the side of her mouth, claps, and slaps to her thighs with apricot-sticky hands on her part, Kendrick finished feeding Madeline her lunch.

  Releasing her from her chair, Kendrick held her in one arm with her bottom perched on his hip while he went in search of a rag to clean her up. God was pretty smart to give women narrower waists and broader hips. It must be a lot easier for them than it is for me to carry babies this way. Once he found one, he dampened the rag and began wiping the food that did not make it into her mouth from her face and hands. It was only when he tried to wipe the yellowish-orange stains from the front of her gown that he recalled that, before he fed her, he was supposed to put on one of those bib contraptions the Thompson twins had told him about.