Logan (Bachelors And Babies Book 2) Read online

“It doesn’t matter where she came from, I’m still stuck with her in my jail.”

  “Why don’t you let her go?”

  “And face a lynch mob of frightened townsfolk if she does something crazy? Can Flo whip up supper for me and my prisoner?”

  “Sure, she’s got a nice stew and dumplings on cooking. About an hour?”

  “Yeah, thanks. Put it on my account.”

  “You haven’t paid anything on it in a coon’s age, Marshal.”

  “You’ll get your money when they pay me,” Lyle snapped. “I hate this Godforsaken place.”

  “Yeah, well you wouldn’t get a job like this anywhere else.”

  Lyle shrugged. Alf was right. He wouldn’t. Too old and too lazy. He knew his faults, that’s why this place suited him. Tarnation, a man was allowed to complain now and again, wasn’t he?

  By the time Logan made it to the narrow pass leading to his ranch the baby was starting to fidget and whimper. It wouldn’t be long before she let out a full throated roar.

  “It won’t be long now, darlin’, then I can make you more comfortable and put food in your little belly.”

  He had tins of condensed milk put away in his storage cupboard. As he rode along he made his plans. He would go to Golden Square. It would be worth the extra hours ride. He wasn’t well known in Trails End as he only went there every few months or so for supplies, but the sheriff and the mercantile owner knew he didn’t have a wife. Already he was feeling protective toward this little gal. Too bad he didn’t have a woman he could get advice from. He would have to work it out as he went along.

  His cut log cabin was built behind the trees, blending in so well with the surroundings it was hard to see from a distance. He had purposely built it this way to keep out unwanted visitors. His barn and corral were at the rear of the cabin, making them impossible to see without going around the back.

  “Well, Alice, this is your new home. Nothing fancy mind you, comfortable, though.”

  The baby was crying now, kicking and waving her arms. “Prince, my boy, I’ll have to see to this little gal before you.” It scared him when she cried so hard. At least it gave him hope she was stronger because of the milk he had given her.

  After dismounting from Prince, he left him to graze until he had time to attend to his needs, then lastly, his own. He strode to the porch, jiggling Alice against one shoulder as he did so. “Hush, Alice, I’ll feed you in a minute.”

  Pushing open the door he noticed everything was covered in dust with a musty smell accosting his nostrils. Leaving the door open to let in fresh air, he placed the now screaming baby on his old sofa before hurrying to where he kept the tinned food.

  Having had a father who had been a ship’s carpenter did have its advantages, not only was he good with a hammer and nails, space saving ideas abounded from Pa’s days in the Royal Navy.

  His bed was a double one because he didn’t like being cramped when he slept. By building it up in the partially built loft, it gave him extra space in his one room cabin. Underneath his bed he had an old sofa and a small table with two chairs. As the area faced a low window, it was effectively another room.

  He cursed under his breath on finding only a dozen tins of the milk left. He would probably need a couple of tins a day for Alice. The crying intensified. He had to get the milk into her before she cried so hard she injured herself.

  “I’m going as quickly as I can.” Picking up a tin he turned around and placed his hand on her flailing legs.

  She was as wet as dung now. Food first, then he would try to figure out how to dry her out. He stabbed a hole in the can and poured some of the milk into a cup. He might be able to feed her off a spoon if he could find a small one.

  Once he was ready he picked her up and sat down on the sofa, balancing her on his knee. He wrapped his arm around her for support to free one hand to use the spoon, the other hand to hold the tin.

  To start with, he only put a small amount of liquid on the spoon, most of it dribbled down her chin. “Come on, darlin’, open your mouth.”

  After a few failed attempts, success came when he opened her mouth and rested the spoon on her tongue. Within seconds the little mouth opened willing. This was more like it, quicker than sucking milk from a cloth.

  What if he was to thicken the milk with a little oatmeal, or porridge as his father always called it? It would sustain her for longer. Dare he take the risk? I’ll have to bath her he suddenly thought, she was covered in dust, grime and God alone knew what else.

  She grabbed at the spoon, which he successfully pulled away. He needed to light the fire and heat up hot water. Clothes? As he fed her he planned what he would do. Luckily, his father being a canny Scotsman, had brought him up the same way. Waste not. Want not.

  “You dinna throw anything away, laddie.” He had heard those words for most of his childhood, which is why he had kept numerous flour bags over the years. If he cut a hole in the bottom so her head would fit through and two holes on the sides for her arms, it should do for a nightgown. He could wrap the lower half of her body with another bag folded up into a pad to keep her dry.

  He could easily make her a wooden cradle. Until he had the time she could sleep in the wood box. It would be suitable if he put a pillow in it for a mattress and used a blanket to line the rough sides.

  A coffee and those fried eggs he had been looking forward to on the trail would be nice. He had promised himself little Alice would always come first, his own needs second.

  Finally, she turned her head away, her little belly was obviously full. She blinked sleepily. She should be safe enough on the sofa while he lit the fire to cook some food for himself.

  Her nightgown was wet, as was the cloth covering her little backside. He had to change her. Thankfully the flour bags were in the cupboard near the fire. His wood box was full. There wasn’t time to unpick the stitching on the flour bag, easier to use his knife to cut the holes. Thank goodness he had washed them before packing them away.

  He slipped the wet nightgown over the baby’s head. How white and smooth her skin was. When he unwrapped the cloth covering her backside, it was a different story. The skin was reddened. Cursing under his breath, he suddenly remembered the salve he had bought off some traveler peddling snake oil cures, when he had accidentally knocked a pot of boiling coffee over his hand. I don’t know what was in the concoction, but it worked for me. If he used it sparingly it shouldn’t do the baby any harm.

  He slipped the flour bag over her head, although it didn’t look much, it would serve the purpose. He would have to make the trip into Golden Square sooner rather than later. He rolled up the other bag before placing it between her legs, ripped two holes in a third bag and pushed her little legs through them. Finally, he tied a piece of string around her waist to keep it all in place.

  “Well, little darlin’, it doesn’t look much, but it will keep you covered and dry.” She blinked sleepily at him.

  He held her until she fell asleep, then gently stood and placed her on the sofa. As long as he kept an eye on her she would be safe. The moment she stirred he would be at her side.

  He lit the fire in the stove, and as he waited for the wood to catch alight, filled his coffee pot. He would have to drink it black, Alice needed the milk much more than he did.

  Dare he dash outside to collect eggs from his chickens? He had erected a large enclosure for them so they had plenty of grass to eat while he was away. No, not worth the risk even though he had promised himself bacon and eggs.

  Don’t be so selfish Logan McGregor. The baby has to take priority if you aim to keep her. Aim to keep her? He would kill any man who tried to take his wee Alice away.

  Putting a large pot of water on the stove to boil he emptied his wood box on to the hearth. He stepped over to his bed to grab up a pillow. It was made from a canvas bag filled with straw and sewn up at one end. Perfect for a mattress. He would lay a blanket across the box and place the mattress on it. Until he had time to smooth down the r
ough sides and corners it should suffice.

  By the time the coffee was ready, so was Alice’s bed. He nodded his approval. She should be as snug as a bug in a rug now. Tip-toeing over to her he gently lifted her up and transferred her to the makeshift cradle. A rocking cradle was what he would make for her he decided as he drank his coffee, sweetening it up with the watered down milk Alice had left.

  CHAPTER THREE

  As the baby still slept soundly, Logan dashed outside to attend to Prince who stamped his foot, showing him in no uncertain terms he wasn’t impressed at being kept away from his comfortable stable and chaff box.

  After the gelding was settled, Logan hurried back to the chickens. He would have to collect a few eggs then check which ones were usable. After being away for several days, some of them could be rotten. He would have to think of other ways to earn money now. He couldn’t take Alice with him on cattle drives or leave her here alone. He had a bottle of gold dust kept for emergencies, and would have to use some of that when his money ran out. He could take the baby with him when he was panning for gold.

  The chickens scattered as he entered their enclosure, cunning varmints. His rooster had died a while back. If he wanted more chickens he would have to give his ladies a beau. Maybe he could get himself a milking cow now he wouldn’t be going away anymore.

  He ran his hand across the stubble on his chin. Little Alice was certainly causing upheaval in his orderly life. It was no hardship, he would give up everything he owned for her.

  He gathered a couple of dozen eggs from the nests, hopefully most of them would be edible. After clearing away the mess made by broken eggs, he strode to his barn to grab an armful of fresh hay to place in their nests.

  A quick glance over his paddocks reassured him that his cattle were contentedly chewing on the green grass, and there were no obvious breaks in the fences. Tomorrow he would take a closer inspection, before going into Golden Square. Hopefully there would be nothing needing his urgent attention.

  I’ll get double the usual quantity of stores he thought, save me having to leave the ranch for a while.

  He strode back to the cabin. The grass in his paddocks was green and plentiful. It had been a good winter with plenty of rain at the right time. Hopefully, the vegetables he had planted were also doing well. He had been fairly self-sufficient until now. Surely a baby wouldn’t disrupt his lifestyle too much.

  As he got to the back porch another thought struck him. He should wash her clothes. He could peg them on the washing line for a while, then bring them in and dry them by the fire ready for their trip into town. He didn’t want anyone to see her dressed in flour bags.

  No sound emanated from the cabin. Poor wee baby was worn out. He didn’t like household chores, it wasn’t man’s work. Being alone he had no choice, on the other hand he detested untidiness, everything had to be kept in its place. Pa had drilled this into him either with his booming voice or his belt.

  He checked on Alice who still slept soundly, a small clenched fist under her chin. He carried his clothes washing dish over to the table, stripped off and washed himself. His clothes like him hadn’t been washed in days. Naked, he stepped over to the cupboard under the bed where he kept his clothes. Collecting a clean shirt, pants, socks and drawers he proceeded to dress. Once he had his washing hung out he would cook the eggs and bacon.

  Out of all the eggs he had collected surely he’d get enough for at least one feed. He’d be able to tell by the smell once he cracked them if they were rotten. Still, the weather had been mild, so maybe there wouldn’t be too many ruined ones.

  Up in the front section of the cabin was a small loft where he stored his vegetables and dried meat. When he had the money and the time, he would enlarge the loft and turn it into two bedrooms. He dried or smoked most of his meat or cured it in brine. Mainly beef and pork, although he often shot rabbits or squirrels for a change. He had constructed a ladder which folded up when not in use. A piece of dangling rope released the ladder when it was pulled, simple yet effective.

  Logan climbed up and retrieved several strips of dried beef and a couple of potatoes. Fried potatoes added to his menu would be a treat as he had missed breakfast.

  The clothes were pegged out on the washing line, he had made more flour bag drawers for the baby. They were quite a lot better than his first attempt. He had made and eaten his meal and enjoyed his coffee. Would he have a second cup?

  While he debated about this, a noise came from the cradle. The baby was awake. How often did you feed a baby he wondered? Every four or five hours, maybe? He would have to let her tell him when she was ready for a feed. She certainly knew how to do it. He wasn’t sure how old she was, a few months most likely.

  He stepped over to her. She had kicked off the piece of blanket he had placed over her. Her red blanket had been dirty so he had washed it. She stunk – real bad. He knew it would happen, but not so soon. He was sorry he had eaten so much now as he felt the food rising in his throat.

  Carefully he picked her up. Thankfully nothing escaped from the make shift drawers. “You stink, little darlin’. Big blue eyes stared up at him, and he could have sworn she smiled at him.

  He laid her on the sofa and maneuvered the soiled cloth from her backside and placed it on the floor. Now would be a good time to bath her. He couldn’t put her in his hip bath, one of the few luxuries he allowed himself. It would have to be the tin dish he used for his washing.

  The only soap he had was what he used for himself. He always bought soap as he wasn’t sure how to make it, that was women’s work or so he had thought. It would have to be store bought soap for his little gal. Chances were the mercantile would have special soap for babies or if not, he would buy a piece of fine perfumed soap women liked to use.

  What in tarnation was he thinking of? Here she was lying naked on the sofa and he hadn’t prepared the water for her bath. Holding her on one hip he stepped over to the fire. He would bath her near there as there was a definite chill in the air. Might even rain he thought.

  Pouring the cold water in the dish first, he emptied a small amount of the hot water from the pot on the stove. He wasn’t sure how hot to make it, but babies had sensitive skin, which would burn easily. He opted on the side of caution, too cool was better than too hot. There was a lot to remember. Babies sure created extra work.

  He opened his shirt and sprinkled a few droplets of water on to his stomach. It didn’t feel too hot, so he eased Alice’s foot into the water. No reaction. As far as he could see the salve had worked and her little backside wasn’t red anymore. Her legs were in the water now, still she didn’t cry out so it mustn’t be too hot. Her rump might still be tender though. He eased her into the water letting her head rest against his arm as he held her under the arms so she wouldn’t slip out of his grasp. Not that there was much water in the dish. He was shocked to see his hand trembling.

  Alice kicked at the water and splashed him. She was obviously used to being bathed as she seemed to have no fear. Where had she come from? How did she end up in the middle of nowhere?

  Using a cloth he wiped her face then applied a small amount of soap to her body. He didn’t use much in case it was too harsh on her sensitive skin. She started to wriggle and squirm and he feared she might slip out of his hands. Maybe there was a book on looking after babies he could buy. It would make things easier, cheaper than getting a woman, too. He laughed out loud. Alice made a gurgling sound as if she enjoyed the joke as well. As his mother would have said, What a bonnie wee bairn she was.

  Once he lifted her out of the water he laid her on a towel and proceeded to dry her. “I haven’t done such a bad job, little darlin’, if I do say so myself. Tomorrow we’ll drive into Golden Square and get our supplies. You know I’ll have to buy extra for you. Are you smiling at me? I think you are.” He tickled her under the chin and she made a noise, sounded like laughter to him.

  He dressed her in the flour bag clothing. “I’ll put you in your bed while I go outside
to bring our washing in. We can finish drying it off by the fire.”

  He didn’t have a lot of money, although there was enough for necessities. He considered the stove a good investment as he could cook on it, also use it for warmth in the cold weather. His ranch might be isolated, although not lacking in necessities for a comfortable life.

  The baby objected to being placed in her bed; she let out a loud wail. He hardened his heart. He couldn’t take her outside now and risk her catching a chill. Next time he bathed her he would do it in the evening before they went to bed. She didn’t have much hair, so going to bed with a wet head wouldn’t be a problem.

  He raced outside to retrieve his washing then returned to the porch to collect a few logs for the stove. Alice was in full voice now. Maybe she was hungry. It was a while since he last fed her. Babies were time consuming little critters.

  The next morning after he had fed both himself and Alice, he set about preparing for their journey into Golden Square. He didn’t take Prince, who was one of the best horses he’d ever owned, instead he harnessed up two other horses for the small wagon he had made. Fortunately, it had a canvas roof, which would protect the baby from dust and rain, if there was any.

  The sky was a clear blue with a few fluffy white clouds, not that he was taking any chances with his precious cargo. She would be quite comfortable sleeping in her cradle. Instead of the blanket to pad the sides, he had used towels, which would be softer against her skin. Two tins of milk should be enough. He placed them with a small spoon in a bag then put them in a bucket ready for use.

  Finally, he was able to set off. In her clean nightgown she looked pretty as a picture. If he could afford it he would get her store bought clothes. His little gal wasn’t going to live in flour bags. No Sirree.

  The baby slept for the first part of the journey, the movement of the wagon obviously soothing her. Easier than he thought it would be. When she woke up, he fed her and continued on his way.