Carter: Bachelors and Babies, #3

Chapter 1

Golden, Colorado Territory ~ July, 1870

Anne-Marie Sanderson, now traveling under the alias of Samantha Wallace, climbed down from the freight wagon with the help of the wagon’s driver. Sweat trickled between her breasts making her corset damp and just that much more uncomfortable. Her black wool traveling suit and the wool mantle she held over her arm didn’t help matters any. Standing on the boardwalk, she rested her cloak over her valise and removed her jacket. Under it she wore a white, high necked blouse, trimmed in lace at the neck and cuffs. Immediately, she felt cooler but continued to use her fan to move the still air around her face.

In her valise were clothes she’d specifically had made for this journey and for the work she expected to do. She’d picked a rancher specifically because her father would never expect her to go anywhere where she had to do physical labor.

Being a mail-order bride, she hoped the man she’d promised to marry happened to come to town soon. She realized that might not be the case, but she would find a way to notify him she’d come sooner than he’d planned.

She’d answered the advertisement for a mail-order bride after the first time Thurstan had slapped her. She wouldn’t marry a man she knew to be abusive. If this man was the same way, she would leave and do what she had to in order to make her own way in the world.

She’d taken the train from St. Louis to Kit Carson in the Colorado Territory and on to Denver by stagecoach. She’d spent the last leg of her journey sitting next to the driver in a freight wagon headed for Central City but who had kindly dropped her off in Golden City.

She fervently hoped that Thurstan Martin wouldn’t follow her from St. Louis. Her father had betrothed her to his friend. At first Samantha had been thrilled. Her future was solved and Thurstan was a very good catch. He was young, compared to her father, being only fifteen years older than she was and very handsome. She considered herself very lucky, but as the engagement wore on, Thurstan’s proclivities toward violence surfaced and she discovered what a monster he really was. Oh, he never left a mark where it could be seen, but if he was this way now when they were only engaged, what would he be like when they were married?

She’d told her father what Thurstan was doing, but Father didn’t believe her.

He believed she would say anything to get out of the marriage, as she’d done several times before. But she’d been young enough then, he hadn’t forced her.

You’re twenty-five years old, he’d admonished her. And it’s long past time for you to be married and start producing grandchildren for your mother and me.

So one day she’d asked her mother to talk to her in the library. They sat next to each other on the sofa. When she’d told her mother how Thurstan was treating her, the woman looked sad.

That’s just the way men are. You’ll have to moderate your speech and do your best not to anger him.

Anne-Marie narrowed her eyes. Are you telling me that Father beats you? Is that why you say that’s the way men are?

Her mother nodded. That is the way of marriage. You must accept it.

Blood pounded through her veins. Anne-Marie jumped up from the sofa and paced. I won’t. It’s barbaric. I’ll die before I let a man use me as a punching bag.

She knew then she had to get away. She wouldn’t take the chance of Thurstan moving up the wedding date, after all they’d already been engaged for almost two years. Also, she would only be able to take what she could wear and carry in one valise. She’d have to cut all ties with her friends, which hurt, but she couldn’t risk the letters being traced even if she used a fake name. She made sure to put the letters from her intended in her reticule and then, with the perfect opportunity was coming up, she prepared to leave at night.

Her parents were attending an evening of dinner and cards at a friend’s home. Thurstan didn’t know the people so she would not have to attend. She’d be alone, just her and the servants.

At nine o’clock everyone went to bed except Laraby, the butler. The servants were happy to have the master and mistress out for the evening as they could retire early and get some extra sleep before morning came and their long days started again.

Anne-Marie made her way down the stairs and out the door without making a sound, thanks to a floor covered with thick carpet. She walked the six blocks to the taxi stand and got a taxi to the train station.

When the train had traveled a good five miles out of town she finally sat up and got comfortable in her seat.

An elderly woman sat across from her, and a small blonde girl, about eight-years-old, sat next to the woman.

The woman watched her and then smiled. Her smile reached her eyes and lit up her entire face. Where are you headed, my dear?

West, answered Anne-Marie. No, Samantha. She was Samantha now.

The woman’s eyebrows lifted and she nodded. I see.

Samantha went back to staring out the window.

Grandma, said the little girl. Are we going west like the pretty lady?

Yes, we are, said the woman. West to Kansas City, where your father will meet us.

Then what will we do?

Then we’ll go home with him and see your mother.

Samantha looked at the woman. She had snow white hair, vivid green eyes and a kind smile. Her face was lined with wrinkles, deep laugh lines and crow’s feet from squinting. Her countenance was comforting. I can pick up the stage to Denver in Kansas City, can’t I?

The woman smiled. Yes. You can also take the train to Kit Carson, which is considerably faster, and then the stage to Denver. One of my sons has a ranch west of there.

Samantha extended her hand. I’m Samantha Wallace. I can’t be too careful. Father or Thurstan, might send people looking for Anne-Marie Sanderson tomorrow, but no one will be looking for Samantha Wallace.

Bertha Taylor, and this sweet little thing,—she patted the girl’s hand—is my granddaughter, Iris. Her mother, my daughter, just had a new baby. Iris has been visiting with me for about a month. Now it’s time she went home and met her brother and I greeted my new grandson. What are you going to Denver for, dear?

I’ll be meeting my fiancé. I’m a mail-order bride. My fiancé has a ranch outside of a place called Golden City.

I’m glad I practiced answering this question. Even so I’d hoped I wouldn’t actually have to answer it.

Will he be meeting you in Denver or Golden City?

I don’t know. He doesn’t actually know I’m coming. I simply couldn’t wait any longer.

The woman nodded. Anxious to be married and start a family?

Samantha dipped her chin. Oh, yes, ma’am.

Bertha reached into her reticule and handed Samantha a card. Well, if for some reason, things don’t work out and you should need a job, you can look up my son. His name is Jonathan Taylor. Just tell him you know Bertha.

Samantha put the card in her pocket. Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. I appreciate it very much. Maybe my luck is changing for the better. Finally.

Carter Monroe had just finished his first cup of coffee and rolled up the sleeves of his chambray shirt to pour a second cup from the pot on the stove. He suddenly heard a horse galloping away. He went to the kitchen window, but the rider was too far away. None of his men were supposed to be going anywhere today, especially not this early. He was surprised they were out of bed. Breaking horses was on the agenda and all hands were to remain at the ranch.

He opened the door off the living room to get a better look at the horse and nearly fell over a basket on the porch in front of the door. A baby basket. An occupied baby basket. He grabbed the door jam with his left hand, while his gut clenched.

What the heck?!

Squatting next to the white wicker container, he turned down the blankets. Staring back were the biggest, bluest eyes, a button nose and rosebud mouth. The baby took one look at him and…grinned a toothless grin.

Carter couldn’t help but smile back. He looked up again to see if the rider was still in sight, but he or she was gone. He ran his hands through his hair and stared at the baby. Finally, he decided he needed to do something as the morning was a little chilly. Well, you are a cute little thing. Let’s take you inside where it’s warmer.

He carried the basket to the kitchen table where he examined the contents. Besides the baby, he saw several diapers made of soft flannel, a nightgown, two blankets, a rattle, a bottle, what looked like a pair of heavy wool pants and a note.

Carter,

This is Elaine. I call her Lanie. She’s four months old and your daughter. I shouldn’t have kept her from you for this long, but I can’t care for her anymore. I’m leaving for San Francisco and can’t take her with me. She’s yours to raise now. Goodbye. Tell her I love her.

Lanie’s mama.

Carter’s legs turned to jelly and he sat before he fell face first to the floor.

His baby? He hadn’t had relations with many women and a year ago he hadn’t been with anyone. Actually he hadn’t been with anyone since Martha passed. So Lanie couldn’t be his child, but someone sure wanted him to think she was and he didn’t know how he could disprove it. The note was fairly damming, but he was sure Lanie’s mama had the wrong man.

Josiah came in to prepare breakfast.

What you got there, Boss? The older man smiled, came over to the table and looked in the basket.

Carter watched the man’s smile fade.

What the heck is that?

She’s a baby.

Josiah rubbed his hands over his face and looked again in the basket. I know it’s a baby but who’s baby is it?

She’s apparently mine now. I have to go to town and buy things for her and see if by some chance the mother is still there.

Yes, I guess you better. This ranch is no place to try and raise a baby without a woman.

Carter ran his hands through his hair. You think I don’t know that? He picked up the basket and took Lanie to the barn with him to hitch up the buggy.

Samantha stood on the board walk outside the Golden City Mercantile. After taking a few minutes to collect herself, she walked in, hoping she’d be able to find work there until she found her fiancé. Surely there was something she could do; even sweeping the floors would be all right with her.

She walked to the counter on the right side of the store, just beyond the door, where a middle-aged, balding man wearing a white butcher’s apron stood.

Excuse me, sir?

What can I do for you, young lady? The storekeeper smiled.

Using both hands, she held her valise in front of her. I’m looking for a job and a place to stay until my fiancé comes to get me. I’ll do anything, sweep floors, straighten shelves, whatever you need.

Who is your fiancé, miss?

Carter Monroe.

The shopkeeper lifted his brows and glanced at the man in the back of the store.

You don’t say. Well this is the day for surprises. Hey! said the storekeeper.

The man turned toward them.

The store owner waved. You better get up here…now!

She watched the tall, handsome man saunter up to the counter.

He held a wicker bassinette, the occupant of which was beginning to cry.

The man put the basket on the floor and looked Samantha over.

What do you want, Orson?

The baby cried in earnest now, apparently not liking being on the floor.

Samantha bent down and talked to the baby. "Hi there sweet thing. What’s the matter, huh? What’s making