Baby On Her Doorstep. Rhonda Gibson

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Baby On Her Doorstep - Rhonda  Gibson

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mother was gone. Did the little girl understand? Or was she too young to realize that she’d been given away like a freshly made cake?

      The little girl toddled over to him. She fell into his embrace and giggled along with Grace.

      His gaze met Laura’s. Her eyes seemed softer, as if cushioned with unshed tears. Were her thoughts on the fact that Hope’s mother and father were missing?

      From the looks of things, Hope needed a father figure, and Laura needed a friend. The silly thought came to him that he’d be here for both of them for as long as they needed him.

      Clint gently released the girls and stood. The two girls looked up at him. He placed each of them on to a chair at the kitchen table, very aware that the two women watched his every move. He took a sip of coffee, and the bitterness coated his tongue. What had he gotten himself into, with four ladies in his house and not one man to help him muddle through the awkward times?

      * * *

      A couple of days later, Laura stood back and watched the girls splash water at each other. They both had smelled like hot little puppies when she’d decided they needed a good scrubbing. She glanced up to see Mrs. Murphy standing in the kitchen doorway.

      Dread filled her. The other woman hadn’t been mean, but she’d definitely been rude on more than one occasion. Laura put a smile on her face and said, “I hope you don’t mind. The girls needed a good bath.”

      Mrs. Murphy returned her smile. “As long as you clean up after them, I’m fine with them taking a bath. My husband used to say, ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness.’” She chuckled. “I think the dear soul really believed that one was in the Bible.”

      Laura couldn’t help but grin at the familiar saying. “I’ll have it cleaned up in a jiffy in here.”

      The other woman waved her hand. “There isn’t any rush.” She came farther into the kitchen. “I just came in to stir the beans and ham hock.” She laid a worn Bible on the kitchen table.

      It was good to see that the Irishwoman read from the book. Laura Lee held her own Bible study every morning before the children awoke. She didn’t believe she would survive a day without reading the Word first thing.

      The little girls played happily in the water. Their big eyes and smiles filled their tiny faces. This was the first time Clint had been gone from the house all day. Laura had worried Grace would fret, but the little girl hadn’t.

      The fragrance of ham filled the kitchen. Laura thought about mentioning that she could make a mean pan of cornbread to go with the beans and ham hock, but changed her mind. It had been a long time since she’d cooked, and over the last few days she’d learned that Mrs. Murphy wasn’t the sort who would let another woman work in her kitchen.

      Mrs. Murphy replaced the lid on the bean pot, sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and watched the girls. “Which do you think I should make? Biscuits or corn bread?” She didn’t take her eyes off the children.

      Was she trying to make up for her shortness of the last few days? Laura tilted her head to the side. “Whichever is easier for you.”

      The older woman laughed. “That’s a very good answer, but which one do you have—” she tried to imitate a cowboy tone “—a hankerin’ for?”

      Laura laughed. The Irishwoman joined in, and the children splashed and giggled all the harder.

      When everyone had settled down, Laura answered, “That was the funniest imitation I have ever heard. I think corn bread would be a good choice, if you don’t mind.”

      “No, I don’t mind. Corn bread was what I was thinking, too.”

      “Good. I...” Laura stopped. She’d almost offered to help again, but decided against it. Mrs. Murphy seemed to be in a pleasant mood, and there was no reason to spoil it.

      She helped Grace from the tub of lukewarm water. “Come on, pumpkin. Let’s get you dressed.”

      Grace giggled and kicked her feet as Laura wrapped a clean towel around her. Mrs. Murphy scooped Hope from the bathwater and proceeded to towel her dry, as well.

      “You really don’t have to do that, Mrs. Murphy. I don’t want the girls to be a bother to you, at all.”

      She towel-dried Hope’s curly hair. “It’s no bother. And please, call me Camelia.”

      Laura sat back on her heels. “So now you want to help with the girls?”

      Camelia sat back also. Her gaze met Laura’s, and honesty shone through her words. “I’m sorry. I haven’t behaved in a very Christian manner since you’ve been here. I’m new to this Christian life and don’t always act correctly. I love Gracie, but I just don’t have the patience I used to with children. Or adults, for that matter, but I’m trying to do better.” Her gaze moved to the Bible on the table.

      Laura continued drying Grace’s little arms. “I know what you mean. I’m not always good with adults, either. I love children, but oftentimes their parents set my teeth on edge.” The two women shared knowing grins. Then Laura pressed on. “Maybe we can work together and learn from each other.”

      Laura held her breath while she pulled Grace’s little dress over her head. What would Camelia think of her suggestion? Laura wanted to befriend the woman. Honestly, she’d never had a woman friend that she could talk and work with. Most women didn’t have time for a widow or friendship. Would Camelia?

       Chapter Six

      Clint’s back ached, his hips hurt and his legs felt full of lead. He’d started the day checking on his herd of cows and the two bulls in the west pasture. Then in the afternoon, he’d plowed the east field and ended the work day with feeding the cows and calves again and checking on the ones that would have calves soon.

      His thoughts had been preoccupied during the day with Laura and Grace. What were they doing? The schoolteacher had brought lots of books, and even though Grace was only two, Laura had started showing her the books and asking her questions such as “What color is this?” And pointing to pictures of fruit trees and asking questions like, “How many apples are in the tree?” And other stuff like that. Mrs. Murphy had criticized Laura’s attempts at educating the little girls. Personally, he’d found it interesting.

      Clint hated that the two women didn’t seem to get along. He’d tried to soften the verbal blows that Mrs. Murphy had rained upon Laura. He felt the tension in the air and wondered if the little girls could feel it, too. Laura had said she didn’t mind Mrs. Murphy’s rude behavior, but he could tell it was wearing on her.

      He both dreaded and looked forward to going to the house. A hot meal and soft bed were welcomed, but what would the atmosphere with the ladies in the house be like? He’d gone from having two females in the house to having four, not an easy transition. Clint knew he’d have to have another talk with his housekeeper and he dreaded it.

      Richard met him outside the barn. “I’ll take your horse, Clint.”

      “Thanks.” He swung from the saddle with a groan. His gaze moved to the front of the house. “How have things been here today?”

      “Pretty

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