Missouri Challenge: Daisy (Finding Home Series #3) Page 2

  "You live here alone?" Timmy asked with a hint of censor.

  Daisy bristled. "I do. I've been taking care of myself since my parents died. Me and–" She stopped speaking when the high-pitched squall of her baby pierced the air. Although muted by the closed door, the sound got Timmy's immediate attention.

  Daisy motioned with her free hand. "I got to tend to my baby. Come on in if you want." She turned and quickly entered the cabin, leaving the door open.

  * * *

  Tim walked his horse forward and tethered him to a post. Stepping onto the porch, his boots clunked. He brushed his chaps and duster, removed his hat, and stepped inside his childhood home.

  Waves of nostalgia assailed him and in his mind he saw his father and mother sitting in rockers in front of the hearth. He saw himself sitting at their feet and listening to his pa expound on the wonderful lands to the west in Oregon. His father had never made it there, but his descriptions had been amazingly accurate.

  Tim glanced from the hearth to Daisy entering the room from the bedroom. She cradled a tiny bundle and her expression of love as she looked at her baby put a lump in his throat.

  She glanced up. "This is June. I named her June because it's my favorite month of the year. The weather's warming and flowers and baby animals are springing up everywhere." She stepped close enough for Tim to see the baby's face.

  "She's beautiful, Daisy. How old is she?"

  "Two months."

  Tim wanted to ask where the baby's father was, but didn't know if the question would come across as offensive.

  Daisy glanced up and her eyes conveyed the fact that she understood his hesitance. With a sad expression, she said, "I'm not married. So if you want to leave and have nothing to do with me like the rest of the folks around here, the door's open." She finished the sentence with a hint of hostility.

  Tim's stare never wavered. "I'm not like most folks."

  Daisy studied him for a second. "Please have a seat, Timmy. I need to feed June and then I'll come back and make us some tea." The baby squalled and Daisy lifted her over her shoulder. "There, there, baby girl. Mama's gonna take care of you." She returned to the bedroom and closed the door.

  Tim didn't wait for Daisy to return to make tea. He set about finding the ingredients and pouring hot water already on the stove. When she returned, he had the table set with a teapot and cups. His efficiency had disclosed that she had little in the way of food in her cupboards.

  Daisy's eyes widened, and then narrowed. "I don't expect guests to do my job."

  "No, ma'am. But anyone can see you need a little help around here."

  "I don't want any charity."

  It was obvious to Tim that he had rankled Daisy's pride. "I don't think me making tea is considered charity." Before she could respond he pulled a chair out for her and said, "I 'spose June's happy as a bug-in-a-rug now. I don't hear anything."

  Talking about the baby seemed to distract Daisy and she reached for the teapot, pouring tea for Tim and then herself. "She usually sleeps all afternoon. About three she wakes up and wants to play 'til evening." Daisy lifted her cup and smiled, once again looking lovely.

  Tim sipped his own tea and after a few minutes of general conversation decided a direct approach was needed for him to find out the information he wanted. "Who planted your corn?"

  "I did some of it, but then I hired a couple of drifters looking for work."

  "You mean you planted crops just after having a baby?"

  "Not that it's any of your business, but yes; I did what had to be done."

  "What about the townsfolk?"

  Daisy snorted. "As far as I'm concerned, those folks can have the hell fire they keep tryin' to send me too jus' 'cause I got a babe and no husband. I want nothin' to do with the lot of 'em."

  Tim glanced over Daisy's shoulder, made a decision, looked back at her and held her gaze. "What about June's father? Is he alive?"

  Firelights sparked in her hazel eyes. "Timmy, I don't see as how that's any of your business, but because I know you from way back, I'll answer what you so obviously want to know. Yes, he's alive. He knows about the babe. But he'll never marry me. Besides, it would be a cold day in hell before I'd marry that rat, even if he begged. Let's just say he was a sweet talker, wantin' one thing from me, and after he got it, I was history in his book."

  The fire in her eyes burned brighter and Tim almost looked away. Instead, he said, "Please call me Tim, not Timmy, and thanks for confiding in me. That helps me with my decision."

  "What decision?"

  "I'm going to stay on and help you get this farm back in shape."

  Daisy's eye's widened and she swatted aside a wayward strand of hair that had gotten caught in her mouth. "You'll do no such thing. I already told you I don't accept charity and I'm–"

  Tim interrupted. "I heard what you said, but I'm doin' this more for the babe than for the stubborn likes of you."

  Daisy jerked back in her chair looking dumbfounded, just what he had intended to happen, and he went for the kill. "You keep working the way you have been and you could end up sick or dead, and then what's to become of your babe. You want her raised by one of those townsfolk you despise? Of course, I know a wonderful orphanage in Oregon that would take her in and love her."

  Daisy's mouth gaped and Tim hastily stood. "I'll bunk out in the barn." Before she could respond, he was out the door.

  Chapter 4: Fixin' What's Broken

  Tim figured that all the talk he'd heard about red-headed gals being stubborn was true. He was a good judge of character and he'd had Daisy pegged from the get-go. She was a proud woman whose pride would either get her sick or dead. He could only imagine the gossip she'd been subjected to that had made her so bitter.

  Vividly, he remembered Pastor Pittance's wife, Prudence, from the Oregon Trail. Until the unexpected death of her husband, she'd been a force to be reckoned with. If one didn't fall into her guidebook for morality, she'd make your life miserable. That's what she'd done to his ma.

  However, life has a way of turning the tables, and when Mrs. Pittance's husband died after three months on the trail, she'd confessed to an immoral act in her own life. She'd figured part of her penance was to lead everyone onto the path of righteousness. Her efforts, of course, were not welcomed by those she chose to direct them toward. Later, after a complete change of heart, she'd confided that it came about not only because of the death of her husband, but also because of Tim's mother's kindness to everyone, regardless of their sins.

  Tim's musings ceased as he unsaddled Amigo and glanced around the barn. There was an old nag in one stall and a milk cow in another; a few chickens squawked and scurried. That was the extent of Daisy's animals.

  She doesn't even have a dog for protection.

  He shook his head and mentally ticked off needed chores.

  By evening, he'd fed the cow and horse from stores of hay and grain that were perilously low. He'd shooed the chickens back into their pen and repaired the wire permitting their escape, and he'd just finished feeding and brushing his own horse when a noise caused him to glance toward the barn entrance. Backlit by soft evening light, Daisy's hair glowed like coals of fire and her dress shifted in the breeze, clinging to her body. She was curvy in all the right places and Tim supposed her large breasts were due to nursing her babe. He coughed when he realized the direction of his thoughts.

  Daisy placed her hands on her hips. "I got beans and cornbread ready for supper and a little preserves to sweeten the cornbread. You best come in and eat since it don't look like you're leavin'." She abruptly turned and stalked back to the house.

  Tim watched the sway of her hips and shook his head again to dislodge his thoughts. The last thing he needed was entanglement with a woman. Besides, Janie Iverson, whom he'd gone to school with since the age of twelve, was the sweet gal everyone expected him to marry. They'd always had a hankerin' for each other and he'd been thinking about settling down after this trip. He surely didn't need to be gawki
ng at another woman.

  He washed up at the well and then returned to the cabin. The door was slightly ajar and when he paused to knock, Daisy said, "No need to knock. Come in and have a seat."

  The scent of hot cornbread filled the cabin. "Smells wonderful."

  Daisy motioned to a chair at the table and ladled beans into a bowl, topping it with cornbread. She pointed to a jar. "That's wild blackberry preserves. I made it myself last year. It was my ma's recipe and it's tasty as can be."

  She dished her own bowl and sat across from him. There was an awkward silence. Tim wasn't sure if she was going to say a blessing and so he waited. She met his gaze and seemed to read his thoughts. "The Good Lord knows I'm thankful for what I have so I don't have to keep telling him. Go ahead and eat."

  Tim nodded and lifted a bite of beans to his mouth, followed by a bite of cornbread. "Daisy, this is delicious. I remember your ma was a great cook. Looks like you learned well."

  Pink color suffused her face and she glanced at the table. "Thank you."

  Daisy's blush intrigued Tim and he secretly watched her. She had a strong nose, expressive hazel eyes, and a pretty mouth. Her hair was dark red and her complexion tanned by the sun, without freckles.

  She caught him looking at her. "Is something wrong? Is my face smudged?"

  Now Tim turned red knowing he'd been caught staring. "No, ma'am. I was just thinking that your coloring is unusual for a redhead."

  She shrugged. "My ma's hair was orange and she had tons of freckles. I don't know what happened to me. I guess–" The baby fussed and she smiled. "I was wondering when my little sweetie was going to wake up. Excuse me while I go feed her."

  Tim nodded and watched her rush from the room. Sudden anger started his blood pumping. What man would father a child and then leave the mother and his babe defenseless?

  Chapter 5: Meet the Father

  Daisy cuddled June as she nursed and thought about Tim. She remembered him as being fun, but also studious and kind; nothing had changed. He had a demeanor that radiated calmness and his quick wit was obvious. As much as she hated accepting charity, she knew she desperately needed help. It was time to bridle her pride. Tim was right. If she wouldn't do it for herself, she had to do it for her child.

  Shifting June to her other breast, she closed her eyes and willed her heart rate to slow down. June must have felt the rapid beat because she became restless. Breathing deeply didn't help, so Daisy just gave in to the one remembrance she had been pushing aside—the dream.

  "It's ridiculous," she whispered to June. "It was just a coincidence that my mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and so on as they claimed, all dreamed of the men they would one day marry. Ma always said it was a gift, but it seems more like an old wives' tale to me."

  Lifting June over her shoulder to burp, Daisy remembered the day her pa had driven Tim and his mother to meet the stagecoach bound for St. Louis. The night before, she had dreamed of her and Timmy being grown up and standing in front of a preacher repeating wedding vows. Although she hadn't seen their faces clearly, she'd known it was them. After the preacher pronounced them husband and wife, Timmy had placed his hands on either side of her face and bent to kiss her. She'd wakened before his lips touched hers.

  The next day on the buckboard she'd foolishly told him about the dream. Of course, being a boy of eight, he'd told her in no uncertain terms that there was no way he was marrying her. He'd been rude and his mother had chastised him for his behavior.

  Throughout the years, she had often thought of Timmy and his mother. Daisy's own mother had received a few letters from Mrs. Wells—later Mrs. Jerome—describing their wonderful life in Oregon. After hearing her mother read the letters aloud to her father, Daisy figured she'd never see Timmy again, and even if there was any truth to the "gift" in her maternal lineage, that chain had been broken with her.

  When she got pregnant, she thought Jensen would become her husband. How wrong she had been.

  June gave a loud burp and Daisy reached for a diaper to change her. Thinking about Jensen put a dark cloud in the room. She had been stupid to believe his lies. In her defense, however, she remembered longing for companionship. Miserable loneliness had brought her defenses down until she was easily manipulated by him.

  Daisy placed the safety pin in June's diaper and glanced across the room to the old vanity with its wavy mirror. As always, her unruly hair had escaped its topknot and corkscrew strands hugged her face and neck. She supposed it was the fashion, but it just made her feel unkempt.

  Puffing a breath, her thoughts returned to Jensen Logan. Smoothing her hand down June's soft cheek, she whispered, "We don't need him or any man. The only thing I can thank him for is giving me you."

  Lifting her baby, Daisy returned to the main room where Tim had already cleared his plate and was rinsing it in the sink. He said without turning around, "Can I warm your coffee?"

  His tall presence suddenly made the room seem small and Daisy felt overwhelmed. No man except her father had ever been that kind and helpful. She sat at the table, placed June over her shoulder, and stared at her plate. She knew it was terrible to ask such a thing, but she said, "What do you want from me?"

  Rather than become angry, Tim reached for a potholder, gripped the coffee pot, and brought it to the table to refill Daisy's cup and then his. He set the pot back on the stove and answered when he sat down. "I don't want anything from you. Like I said, I'll only stay long enough to help get your farm in shape." He sipped his coffee and appeared thoughtful. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, there are folks who actually want to help others. That's how my ma raised me."

  A lump formed in Daisy's throat and she blinked back tears. Quickly turning her attention to June who was kicking and squirming, she said, "I need to put her to bed."

  For the remainder of the evening, Tim discussed things around the farm that he intended to take care of, and every time Daisy objected that something was too extravagant, he brushed her objection aside.

  That night, as she lay in bed with June cuddled to her body, she did something she hadn't done since Jensen rejected her—she cried.

  * * *

  A week after barging into Daisy's life, Tim had repaired barn siding, replaced fencing, cleaned animal stalls, hammered new shingles on the roof, and started other chores. Now he chopped wood at the side of the barn. Daisy had come out earlier and brought him water and he couldn't help but notice how she averted her gaze from his naked chest. When he'd removed his shirt, he hadn't been thinking that it might make her uncomfortable. He'd just been so hot. Sluicing water over his face and upper body, he was about to put his shirt back on when he heard a horse approaching. A single rider rode into the yard. From the cocky way he held his body, Tim instantly disliked him. He stepped so the cowboy could see him.

  The well-dressed man reined his horse beside Tim. He lifted his hat to smooth a hand through black hair before planting it back on his head. Without introducing himself, he said, "Where's Daisy?"

  Tim disliked the man even more. "As soon as you let me know who you are, I'll let her know she has a visitor."

  By the cowboy's frown, he had a dislike for Tim also. He snorted, "Visitor? Hell, I'm a lot more than a visitor to that gal." He dismounted, gazed at Tim's naked chest, and said slyly, "And how 'bout yourself? Are you a visitor or warming her bed like I did?"

  Tim had learned years ago from his stepfather to always appear calm, even when his insides were churning like butter, and responded evenly, "Either state your business or leave. Neither Daisy, nor I, have time for word games."

  Other than a spark in the cowboy's eyes, he also kept a poker face. "You must not be from around here or you'd know who you're talking to."

  "Really? Maybe I'm glad to be an out-of-towner 'cause I really don't want to make your acquaintance."

  The man's bland expression cracked and he said menacingly, "My name is Jensen Logan and I happen to own most of the countryside around here."

  The men
were so wrapped up in their animosity that they hadn't heard Daisy step onto the porch. With a laugh that sounded more like a snort, she said, "The hell you do. Your pa owns everything." She paused. "Even you."

  Jensen stared at her with hatred. "That mouth of yours is what's kept you an old maid. I'd have married you before the babe was born if not for that."

  "That's a crock and you know it. You ran as fast and as far as your lily-livered self could go when you found out. I bet you still haven't told your pa."

  A flush crept up Jensen's neck. He glanced at Tim and then back at Daisy. "Who's he? I don't think he needs to hear our dirty laundry."

  "He's a friend of mine and welcome here as long as he wants to stay. But you're not. Leave my property before I pull out my shotgun."

  Jensen squinted at Daisy. "I want to see the kid."

  "Over my dead body."

  Jensen ground his teeth. "I got the right."

  "You got no rights. You're not my husband and you never will be. Now, I repeat, get off my property."

  Jensen threatened, "You haven't heard the last of this, Daisy. I'll not only have your property; I'll have you."

  Daisy's red hair seemed to glow brighter when she replied softly, "I'd choose to spend eternity in hell before marrying the likes of you."

  Jensen replied, "Who said anything about marriage? You'll not be my wife; you'll be my whore."

  Tim's calm demeanor exploded and he rushed the arrogant man, toppling him into the dirt. He struck a blow to the man's face. "Someone needs to teach you manners."

  Jensen recovered and sent an uppercut into Tim's jaw, which busted his lip.

  The men rolled in the dirt until a shotgun blast broke through the sound of their grunting. Daisy now pointed her weapon at the men. "Both of you stop! Jensen, get off my property!" She lifted the gun toward the sky and fired again.

  Both men jumped to their feet and Jensen reached to retrieve his hat, sending Tim a look of hatred. He turned his gaze back on Daisy and said sarcastically, "Later, sweetheart."