Hill Country of Texas, he’d added considerably to his vocabulary.
“Yes, she is. This morning she threw a dish of huevos rancheros at Senora Morales, saying respectable scrambled eggs didn’t need heathenish peppers in them.”
“Ay yi yi,” Hector said, but his attempt to look concerned was utterly defeated by the grin he couldn’t quite stop. The senora’s tantrums were legendary, and on the ranch they had become a source of great amusement...to those who didn’t have to experience them firsthand.
“You smile, but Senora Morales told me if I didn’t find a companion for the senora within the week, she would leave and go back to her sister’s in San Antonio.”
“Do not worry, patrón. She doesn’t mean it.”
Jonas raked a hand through his hair. “This time, I think she just might,” he insisted.
“If she left, I could ask my sister, the one who lives in Refugio to come and be your cook,” Hector offered. “It would take her a while to travel so far, though.”
Jonas shook his head. “You already told me how sweet-tempered she is. I’d hate to inflict my mother on someone like that. And it really is too much work, to handle the cooking and cleaning, and care for my mother on top of that. No, she needs a dedicated companion. And to fill that role, I’m starting to think what my mother needs is someone as strong willed as she is.”
Unbidden, the image of Maude Harkey came to mind once again. He resolutely banished it. Miss Harkey had already said no, and that was the end of it.
Hector shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“Meanwhile, I’m heading for the bunkhouse. Tamales eaten in peace are better than risking my ears in the ranch house right now.” Maybe he’d get an inspiration while he ate for where he could find the right lady.
He had missed his chance to speak to several ladies at once by not taking full advantage of the Spinsters’ Club barbecue. It was unlikely he’d find so many potential candidates in one place again. But he wouldn’t let that obstacle stop him. If he knew anything, it was that no man in the world was more tenacious than a Scotsman. He would find the right woman to see to his mother’s needs.
But in the meantime he’d enjoy a quiet meal, and he might just grab a siesta afterward on one of the empty bunks. He would find a companion soon, but not tonight. And in the absence of someone to abate her tantrums, he knew he’d need his rest before he had to face his mother again.
* * *
“You go ahead, Maude,” Ella Justiss said that evening, when the last customer had left the little café that Maude helped her run. “I’m just going to wash these few remaining dishes. Would you want Nate to walk you home? By the time he did that and came back, I’d be ready to go.” She nodded toward Nate Bohannan, her fiancé, who was sitting at one of the tables, having just finished a helping of Ella’s fried chicken. “I know you want to go check on little Hannah.”
“I’d be happy to walk with you, Miss Maude,” Nate confirmed.
“There’s no need, but thank you, Nate. I’ll be fine. You two have wedding plans to discuss.” She had no fear at the prospect of walking back to the boardinghouse by herself. Simpson Creek was a safe little town, even at night. Untying her apron, she hung it up on a peg by the door and removed her shawl from another peg.
“I’ll light a lantern for you, at least,” Nate said. “Then you can be on your way.”
Maude couldn’t deny that she was eager to see that tiny little bundle of perfection, with her rosebud mouth and the thick thatch of downy black hair, so she walked quickly across the bridge over the creek and down darkened Main Street, taking a shortcut via the alley between the mercantile and the hotel to reach the boardinghouse on Travis Street.
She would discuss finding the baby’s father with April Mae, too, Maude decided, after she’d made sure the new mother had eaten some supper. Now that the girl wasn’t in labor, she should be thinking more clearly and might remember where Felix Renz had planned to go next on his circuit. The man sold pots and pans and other kitchenware from a cart, so he wouldn’t be traveling all that fast. And it was high time the man was made to take responsibility for the girl he’d left in the family way—and the new baby that had come into the world as a result. Surely when he saw that precious infant, he’d want to do right by her and her mother.
Maude heard the familiar buzz of conversation as she entered the boardinghouse kitchen through the back door. But when she proceeded into the dining room, she saw Mrs. Meyer wasn’t presiding over the long rectangular table, and the boarders were taking full advantage of her absence to leave their manners by the wayside, grabbing huge portions and wiping their mouths on the tablecloth. The serving platters were already empty.
Delbert Perry looked up from the biscuit he’d been buttering. “Evenin’, Miss Maude. Mrs. Meyer said you was t’come upstairs soon’s you got in—somethin’ about the little mother havin’ a fever.”
Fear seized Maude’s heart with fingers of ice. April Mae was so weak after the birth. If a fever set in strongly, would she have the energy to fight it? Without saying another word, she turned and dashed into the hallway then fairly few up the stairs without pausing to acknowledge what Perry called after her— “Th’ doctor’s been sent for.”
Little Hannah slept in the cradle, a thumb firmly planted in her mouth.
Mrs. Meyer looked up from where she was bent over the bed, a cloth in her hand. “Oh, Maude, I’m so thankful you’re here. Sarah Walker thought her husband might be home any minute now, but—”
If the older woman finished her sentence, Maude wasn’t aware of it. Her eyes flew to April Mae’s flushed cheeks, her overbright eyes and the pearls of perspiration beading her pallid forehead. Her heart sank at how fragile and exhausted the girl looked already.
“She’s burnin’ up with fever,” Mrs. Meyer said unnecessarily. “And every so often, she starts shakin’ fit to rattle the bed frame apart.”
Maude didn’t have to reach out a confirming hand to the new mother’s forehead to believe it. “April Mae, when did you start feeling ill?” Maude asked, careful to keep her voice calm, even though her spirit quailed within her. Childbed fever—the dreaded sequel to so many births, the cause of so many deaths among new mothers. She thought back to the few preparations she had had time to do in the too-brief span of minutes from the girl’s arrival to the delivery, procedures her father had always insisted were essential—washing her hands, placing clean linens under the laboring girl, boiling the knife that had cut the cord in a pot of water...
Had she done enough? Had she left out some essential step that would have protected April Mae from the fever that racked her now? She couldn’t think of any precaution she’d omitted, but it had been a long time since she’d assisted at a delivery and her memories of those births were not as crystal clear as they had once been. The thought that she might be in some way responsible for the state that April Mae was in left her feeling sick herself.
“I started havin’ chills this mornin’ after you left for the café, Miss Maude,” April Mae said. “Then I got so hot...an’ my belly hurts...”
Maude kept her expression blank. “Then we’ll just work on getting that fever down. I’m sure Dr. Walker will have something to make your belly feel better, too, when he gets
