A Baby to Mend the Innkeeper’s Heart (Preview)

Chapter One

The funny thing about numbers was that there was no creative way to add them together and get the answer you needed.

No matter how many times Clara Whitmore poured over the inn’s books, all those tiny little numbers would do was show that the inn was a month behind on the mortgage. Never mind the other book containing inventory figures, supplies running low without enough money to buy them.

The inn was busy. There were people coming and going constantly, and yet, between the salaries, the cost of Pa’s medical expenses, the supplies that always seemed to be running a little too low, and the thefts and ransacking of rooms that had occurred in the previous months, there didn’t seem to be enough money to stretch.

Clara groaned and buried her face in her hands for a moment. The bills were piling up, the loan Pa took was going to be due before she knew it, and if one more thing went wrong, she didn’t know how she was going to keep it together.

And then the rattling cough came, echoing through the small house attached to the inn.

Clara closed the books and hid them beneath some other papers. Though she was the one keeping track of the finances, she didn’t want Pa to know about the money struggles they were facing. He had enough problems with his lungs failing him.

“Good morning, Pa,” she said as he stepped into the front room. “You’re supposed to be resting. You know the mornings are too cold right now for you to be up and moving around like you are.”

“And you know that I’m a grown man and I can take care of myself,” he said, nothing but warmth in his words and affection in his eyes. “Besides, I’ve got other things to do today.”

She rolled her eyes and fetched the pot of hot water from the top of the woodstove, pouring it into the tea kettle and allowing it to steep. “You have nothing to do but rest until it’s warmer, and then I promise you can go back to roaming the inn and talking with everyone. Right now, though, we can’t risk you getting sick.”

Pa coughed again, his entire body jerking as he clasped a fist to his mouth. Clara stood with her heart in her throat, watching as he pulled his hand away to reveal little splotches of blood on it.

“I’m going to send for the doctor later today too.” Clara poured him a large mug of tea, handing it over and tipping her head in the direction of the bedrooms in the back. “He might have something else he can give you to help.”

“You worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry nearly enough.” Clara swept her arm in the direction of the bedrooms. “Go. Rest. Take the day off. I can handle everything.”

Lies. I can’t handle making another twenty dollars appear out of thin air to cover the costs of inventory this month.

She certainly couldn’t make the rest of the mortgage payment appear, either, but there was only one problem she could focus on at a time. Perhaps Abigail would have something to say about it. She was wise about stretching a dollar as far as one could and getting creative with where to cut budgets.

Clara waited until she heard Pa’s door shutting before opening the door that connected the house to the kitchen of the inn. She stepped in, dodging Lilah, the housekeeper, wandering by with a rolling cart of brooms and mops, likely to go clean the dining room after the breakfast rush. Clara offered a warm smile to everyone she passed, appreciating the hard work all the employees put in to keeping Whitmore Inn running.

Abigail was sitting behind the front desk when Clara found her, carving a little horse while her adopted son, Oliver, stood behind the desk and got people to sign the guestbook. Oliver was no more than six, but under Abigail’s watchful eye, he liked to help with the small tasks he could around the inn.

“Ma isn’t cooking today!” Oliver said with a toothy grin, looking over at Clara. “She said we could run the counter.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job.” Clara sat down beside Abigail, leaning a little closer, lowering her voice. “I have a problem.”

Abigail glanced at her, eyebrows pulling together, concern in her blue eyes. “What happened?”

“I don’t know how we’re going to make the mortgage and buy supplies this month. I’m not going to be taking my salary this month, so that will help with the supplies, but the mortgage is still short.”

“We’re going to figure it out.” Abigail bit her bottom lip for a moment before blowing out a breath. “The candlesticks.”

“What about them?” There were several gold candlesticks behind the front counter, old ones. Clara didn’t know where they came from, but they had been around the inn at least as long as she had.

“Sell them. Martin, down at the antique shop, would be willing to give you a fair price for them since he’s friends with your pa. It’s not an ideal situation, but I have ones at home I can bring that aren’t being used. It’ll fetch you a bit of money.”

Clara glanced at the gold candlesticks, wishing there were another option. Pa had never been attached to them, often calling lighting them each night more of a nuisance than they were worth, preferring oil lanterns.

“Okay, I’ll take them to him later today.” Clara slumped back against the chair, scrubbing a hand over her face. “When is it going to be Sunday? All I want to do is head down to the orphanage and play with the children.”

“Sadly, it’s still several days away, and I know you want to run from all the problems, but you’ve been doing a good job of keeping your head up and keeping this place running. Your ma would be proud.”

Clara’s vision blurred with tears. “Thank you. Now, what are you making?”

“I wanted something to give Tommy for his birthday,” Oliver said, hopping down from his little stool and coming over to them. “It’s going to be the best. I’m going to polish it until it’s so shiny!”

“Beautiful.” Clara glanced toward the door leading to the kitchen. “Do you suppose Lilah is going to need help with the dishes after the rush?”

“No.” Abigail handed the completed horse to Oliver. “I cleaned most of them as soon as breakfast was over. She’s doing the last couple of platters.”

Clara got up anyway, pushing the door open, peeking her head into the kitchen where Lilah was leaning over a sink and scrubbing the dishes clean. “Is there anything you need help with.”

Lilah shook her head, the bottoms of her rolled-up sleeves soaked with soapy water. “No. I’m just about done here and then me and the other girls are going to get to work turning down the rooms that need it.”

“Okay, well, let me know if there’s anything you need.” Clara joined Oliver, sitting beside him on the floor. “Let’s get this thing polished.”

She ruffled Oliver’s hair, leaning forward and grabbing a little tin of polish out from beneath the front counter. Abigail stepped around them to man the counter, the bell above the door jingling.

Clara looked up, even as she snatched a rag and dipped it into the polish. “Beatrice, I didn’t think you were going to be coming by today. I didn’t leave something at the orphanage, did I?”

“No.” Beatrice kneeled on the ground beside them, her smile bright. “I wanted to make sure that you’re going to bring those apple tarts to Tommy’s birthday party. I know it’s asking a lot with all the other things you have to deal with in the run of a day, but the children love them so much. And I already tried to make them. Half were burned beyond recognition, and the other half were still a little raw.”

Laughing, Clara shook her head. “It’s a good thing you keep a cook employed over there, otherwise the children would have to live on raw vegetables and smoked meat. But yes, I’ll make the tarts.”

“There is nothing wrong with gnawing on a cob of corn fresh from the field.” Beatrice’s tone was teasing, winking at Oliver who burst into laughter.

“I’m not eating corn in the green stuff.” He scrubbed the polish onto the horse carefully, working in small circles.

“You take the green stuff off, then you eat it.” Clara reached out and ruffled his hair again. “And nobody is going to be eating corn without peeling it first, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Oliver nodded, looking pleased with himself, adding more polish to the horse.

Clara got to her feet, dusting off her hands before helping Beatrice up. “I’ve got to get to work on helping the girls clean the room, but you’re welcome to stay for a bit if you want. I don’t know when I’m going to be free though.”

Beatrice’s shoulders slumped. “I wish I could, but with the birthday planning, I have so much to do. We can go shopping tomorrow though, if you have a moment free? I have to get some fabrics for the kids.”

“Actually,” Clara glanced at the candlesticks, “that works perfectly for me since I need to stop at the antique shop.”

“Perfect! I’ll see you tomorrow.” Beatrice left, the bell chiming as the door swung shut behind her.

The door to the kitchen pushed open, Lilah appearing with some scrap fabric in her hand. “Here, Oliver. You can wrap the horse in this.”

“Thank you!” Oliver took the fabric and put it on the ground beside him, barely breaking his attention from the horse.

Clara clapped her hands together, glancing at Lilah. “Let’s get to work on those empty rooms. There should be some miners coming to town soon and they’re going to need room to sleep while the shacks are full.”

The small silver lining to living near one of the mines was the supply of miners and the lack of shacks built for them to live in. They were a steady enough source of income for the inn, keeping the mortgage mostly paid.

With as bright a smile as she could muster, Clara set to work around the inn, mopping the floors and polishing them until they shone. Not that it would matter for too long. Coal dust would be tracked over them again in no time.

The more she worked, the farther away her problems seemed to be. She stripped dirty linens from beds and replaced them with clean ones. Whistling a tune to herself, she went from one of the bathing rooms to another, scrubbing the steel tubs and making sure both had enough wood equipped in them to light the fires and get the water warm.

Morning faded into afternoon, afternoon turning to evening, dark clouds rolling across the sky. When the first clap of thunder boomed, Clara froze.

“The laundry!” She dashed out of the inn, running through the garden and over to the line where the bedding was hanging to dry.

Snatching the basket from the ground, she started stuffing the linens in, rushing back into the inn as the first drops began to fall. She set herself up at the large table in the laundry, starting to fold the sheets, humming to herself and trying not to pay too much mind to the storm. She had never been good with the thunder or the lightning.

And then she heard the cry.

At first, she thought it was nothing, but then it came again. Clara’s brows pulled together, her heart thudding against her ribs as she eased open the back door, finding a basket outside, a baby nestled within it, a gold locket nestled around its neck.

Clara grabbed the basket, bringing the baby inside and setting it on the table, taking the note that had been pinned to the side, her gaze skimming over it.

Keep her safe.

Folding the note, Clara let out a deep breath, but she still felt like she couldn’t move, frozen in time, eyes locked on the tiny baby.

Who would leave a baby on her doorstep? Who would want her to care for their child? Why wouldn’t they simply drop the baby off at the orphanage?

I should tell the sheriff.

She bit the inside of her lip, rocking the basket slightly when the baby started to cry. Something about telling the sheriff didn’t always sit right with her, but it would be the right thing to do. But then why wouldn’t whoever left the baby there go to the sheriff in the first place?

Perhaps whoever left the baby with her had a bad history with the sheriff. Clara did. The man never listened when she told him about things going missing from the inn. Only a matter of a week ago, several gold candlesticks went missing. The sheriff told her it had been her own fault for leaving them out where people could see them and potentially take them.

As if she were to blame for them.

And then there was the time that she went to the sheriff after two rooms on the first floor had been ransacked. He had at least come to the inn to fill out paperwork then, but he had told her yet again it was her fault for having a lack of staff.

But how was she to have more staff to watch over everything when she kept having to replace the things that went missing? When Pa had taken out too many loans without enough money to pay them back?

It wasn’t as if he was a horrible man, but there were times when he neglected some problems in favor of others. Where she could see in his eyes that he thought she was a little too dramatic.

Lazy. That’s my other problem with him. He’s lazy and he only cares about what happens to the people of town when they’re men making complaints at his door. 

“Oh, darling,” Clara whispered, running her finger along the baby’s soft, pudgy cheek. “What do I do with you?”

Chapter Two

Being called into your boss’ office felt like being dragged in front of your parents and having to answer for something you had done. It was the kind of feeling that left you with a turning in your stomach, your mind spinning and trying to recount everything you had done over the last couple of months that might have led to that moment.

Deputy Marshal Caleb Hawthorne sat in the stiff wooden chair, glancing at the clock on the wall, watching the hands tick by slowly, wishing there were a way to make them move faster. He tapped his heel on the floor, twisting his hat in his hands.

Though he hadn’t done anything that would warrant a meeting—he never did—there was always that moment of concern that perhaps you crossed a line you didn’t know existed.

Footsteps echoed on the wooden floors outside the office, getting louder. It was Marshal Dillard’s gait, a little heavier on one side than the other. Caleb sat taller in his chair, stopped fidgeting with his hat, and stood as the door opened.

“Take a seat, Hawthorne,” Marshal Dillard said, shutting the door behind him.

Caleb nodded and took a seat, still sitting straight, his hat in his hands. “I’m sorry, Marshal, but was there something wrong? Did I miss something in one of my last reports?”

“You’ve never missed anything in any of your reports from what I can tell,” Marshal Dillard said, sitting on the other side of the desk, leaning back against the chair. There was a horrific creak when he leaned back, but the chair remained intact. Surprisingly. Marshal Dillard was built like a mountain, even if her had the personality of an angry kitten most of the time.

“Then do you mind my asking what you wanted to meet about?”

“I’ve got an assignment I think you would be perfect for, but it’s not going to be here in Fort Morgan. Still in Colardo, but south, in Silver Creek.” Marshal Dillard shuffled through the files on the desk, pulling one out.

Caleb glanced at the file, seeing Rourke Gang written across the front. “I’m happy to go wherever you need to send me.”

Not to mention this was the gang that he had been hunting for years. If he had to go to New York to track down the Rourke Gang and bring them to justice for the way they destroyed his family, he would happily do it. Thankfully, Silver Creek was far closer than New York.

Caleb’s hands clenched on the brim of his hat. If Marshall Dillard found out that Caleb had a personal connection to the Rourke gang, he would hold Caleb back and send another deputy. Caleb couldn’t allow that to happen. It needed to be him. He needed to be the one to make sure that the gang was finally brought to justice.

While he didn’t like hiding his past from his boss, he knew that his name was nowhere in the Rourke file. He had checked when he first began working with Marshall Dillarad, and though he wasn’t proud of himself for it, he had taken out the single page that had his name on it and burned it.

Nothing was going to stand in his way of seeing Elias Rourke brought to justice.

“Now, I’m giving this to you with the trust that you’re going to follow this investigation to the letter of the law. If we’re going to make sure that Rourke and his men are brought to justice, then there needs to be no cause for concern on your part. Everything done by the book.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.” Marshal Dillard closed the file. “Now, you best get out of here and get to packing. I want you on the road by Tuesday morning.”

Nodding, Caleb stood and put his hat back on, collecting the file before turning and striding out of the office. He had spent years of his life trying to track down Rourke. Eight years to be exact.

And now Rourke had made a mistake. He stayed in one place long enough for someone to identify him after months of not being seen. It was good. It was a better clue that Caleb had gotten in a long time.

Caleb had been close to arresting Rourke before, but the man had slipped through his hands due to an explosion in a mine in a small town. Caleb had spent months hunting him but giving him up for the time being was an easy choice when people were dying.

This time Rourke wasn’t going to get away.

***

The sun crested over the hill bright and early Tuesday morning, but Fort Morgan, Colorado, was already behind Caleb. Though Marshal Dillard wanted him to leave by Tuesday morning, he had set out nearly three days prior. He wanted to get to Silver Creek as soon as possible.

Now, he was riding down the main street cutting through the clapboard buildings, mud kicking up from what seems like a storm they must have had within the last day or so. Caleb would have to find somewhere warm to settle where he could clean up his horse, but that was the second thing on the list of tasks he needed to complete.

People barely looked at him as he rode to the sheriff’s office, but that didn’t surprise him much. From what he read in the file, Silver Creek was used to strangers coming and going. Many miners lived into town with the mine a mere half hour way away.

Hopefully this mine doesn’t ruin my chances of taking Rourke into custody. Rourke’s got a nasty habit of collapsing mines and running away in the chaos of it all, his trail getting lost for far too long.

Caleb hopped down from his horse and hitched it to the pockmarked hitching post outside the sheriff’s office. He took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, hoping this would go well. Given that the sheriff was the one who forwarded the information, he hoped it would, but there were times when he went into a town and the sheriff’s department there was less than happy to see them.

“Morning,” a man said, tipping his hat. He leaned against the front counter, a cup of coffee held between both hands, a dribble running down the side and onto the worn wood countertop. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Sheriff Thomas Reed.”

“You’re looking at him.” Sheriff Reed’s eyes dragged up and down his body like he was assessing him. “You are?”

“Deputy Marshal Caleb Hawthorne.” Caleb held out his hand, noting the way the sheriff hesitated for a moment, his grip a little too tight when he did finally shake Caleb’s hand. “I’m here about the Rourke Gang.”

“Yeah, I know about that.” Sheriff Reed sipped his coffee. “I sent your boss what information I had, but it’s not much. Not nearly enough, I think.”

“Well, I’ve been following the Rourke Gang for a long time. I know the intimate details of how their gang operates, and I can assure you that I’m going to bring them to justice.” Caleb glanced around the office, taking in the large windows that overlooked all angles of the town, a door in the back.

“There’s been some trouble with the stagecoaches lately. There’s a spot on the way to Silver Creek that’s heavily wooded. I have deputies guarding that section of the road when there’s a coach coming through, but I don’t have the manpower to watch it all the time. Last week I wasn’t able to have anyone stationed out there and a man died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Caleb noted that the sheriff’s desk—marked by the hat Sheriff Reed was currently lacking—was out with all the others. It was tucked in the back corner of the room, but it seemed as if Sheriff Reed liked being close to his men. Most preferred to be separated.

“Well, condolences don’t go far in times like these but thank you.” Sheriff Reed pushed off the counter, leading the way over to a map pinned on the wall. “You came from the other side of town from my understanding, but right here is where the wooded area is.”

“I’ll search there first thing in the morning.” Caleb took out a small notebook, sketching himself a little map to follow to the wooded area. “Do you have more information on what’s been happening?”

Sheriff Reed went to his desk, putting his hat on before reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out a file. He passed it over to Caleb, who flipped it open, scanning over the pages.

“You’ve had a lot of outlaw rumors in the area recently,” Caleb said, glancing at the sheriff. “This is a good place to start, even if it isn’t fully the Rourke Gang.”

“I’m sure it has something to do with them, but it’s not clear what.” Sheriff Reed sat down at his desk, the coffee set to the side and seemingly forgotten as he stared at the map. “I need this settled quickly. The people of Silver Creek are worried about what’s happening, and with the death they’re more anxious than ever.”

“I’m going to spend the day studying the information you just gave, and I’ll see if I can make some connections between it all.” Caleb tucked the file beneath his arm. “Do you know of anywhere I can stay while I’m here?”

“Whitmore Inn. Go to the end of this road and hook a left. You should see it right there.”

“Thank you.”

Caleb left the sheriff’s office, tucking the information he had been given into the saddlebag with the rest of the files he had brought with him. He led his horse down the street, taking in the way the people stopped to talk to each other, laughing and smiling beneath the bright sun.

There was a woman with a baby in her arms, smiling and stopping to talk to nearly everyone she passed. Her warm hazel eyes flickered through the crowd, brushing over his for a moment, sending his heart slamming into his ribs. Strands of her hair fell loose, glowing bright beneath the morning sun, her cheeks a flushed pink. She was petite, but the way she drew her shoulders back and stood tall gave the impression that she was a force to be reckoned with.

He didn’t think that he had seen anyone so beautiful before, but the baby in her arms gave him pause.

Just before he could make up his mind about going to speak to the woman, she turned and disappeared into the general store with another woman.

The bell of the schoolhouse tolled, and a moment later there were children rushing down a street to his right, heading straight for her. Caleb froze, not sure what to do about the horde racing his way but they barely seemed to notice him.

He let out a deep breath. Children were difficult for him. He didn’t know what to make of them and most of the time, they looked at him like he was a monster lurking in the dark. No matter how nice he tried to be to them, there was always a way they looked at him that sent him wondering what he did to anger children he had never even met.

It didn’t matter. He was alone and that was the way he planned to continue living his life.

Instead of heading straight for the inn, he kept walking around town, wanting to get a sense of where everything was. People lingered outside the saloon, talking and smoking. Women hurried in and out of the general store. The train whistled as it rolled into the station, and within a few minutes, people were spilling down the steps or lounging on the benches outside it.

Caleb glanced around, taking off his badge and slipping it into his pocket. He continued down the street, his heart rushing a little faster in his chest. If Marshall Dillard ever found out that he was looking for information on Rourke without revealing his job, he would be in deep trouble.

However, Rourke wasn’t one to play by the rules, and if Caleb was going to find them, he would have to bend those rules a little at times.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, approaching a woman sitting on a bench with her toddler at her side. “I was wondering if you knew Elias Rourke. I came to town to visit him, but I seem to have misplaced the piece of paper with his address.”

The woman shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she held a hand above her eyes to shield them from the setting sun. “The name doesn’t sound familiar, but that’s the way with the mine so close. So many people are here and then off to the next one.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile, though it was hard not to feel a little annoyed.

Of course, he knew that walking into town and finding Rourke wasn’t going to happen. The gang wouldn’t have avoided being taken into custody for so long if they were foolish enough to get caught.

Still, he had hoped that things might be a bit easier.

He continued down the street, looking at the white trim on all the buildings, the wooden clapboard painted shades of white, pink, blue, and green that seemed to make the town come to life. Though he spent a good deal of time going from town to town, he had seldom seen one like this so close to a mine. Normally, they were practical, the wood left unpainted, the trim plain.

Not here. No, here it seemed like everything was designed to look like he was walking through a wonderland of sorts, the sidewalk kept clean, stoops of the buildings look nearly polished.

He approached a man outside a butcher shop. “Excuse me, I’m here to visit my cousin, Elias Rourke, but I seem to have misplaced his address. He’s one of the miners. I don’t suppose you know where he might be staying, don’t you?”

“Name is vaguely familiar.” The man’s bushy brows pulled together like he was trying hard to concentrate before he shook his head. “No, I don’t think I know where he is.”

“Well, thank you for that.” Caleb forced a smile. Rourke’s name sounding familiar was a start, but it wasn’t enough to lead Caleb to the truth.

Caleb made his way back to the main street, keeping an eye out for anyone who might look like Elias as he went. Though there was nobody with the same dark hair and nearly black eyes, Caleb couldn’t be sure that all of the people he saw weren’t connected to Rourke.

The setting sun warmed his skin as he walked down the street, taking the left turn. A big white building rose up in front of him, black shutters framing dozens of windows. People littered the benches on the porch, and loud laughter echoed from within the building.

He hitched his horse up to the porch, taking his bags and climbing the stairs. He would return to settle his horse in the stable once he hopefully secured a room. As a last-minute thought, he pinned his badge back to his chest. Chances were, the owners of the inn would know the sheriff, probably speak with him whenever new people caused trouble. It was best if the inn owners knew he was a deputy marshal, so discrepancies didn’t arise if they were all together at any given time.

As he stepped into the building, a soft voice singing a song he didn’t know rose above the laughter. People started to quiet as the singing grew louder, drawing him like a siren’s song past the empty front counter and down the carpeted hall. He weaved his way through the bodies gathered there, finding a large dining room packed full of people gathered at the tables.

And there, at the other end of the room, standing on one of the tables, was an angel.

Well, she looked like an angel, her dark blonde hair catching the light shining through the window, shining like spun gold, soft tendrils falling around her face, the rest pinned back. Her full lips parted as she began another part of the song, her voice soft and light.

She’s the one I saw in the streets.

An older man sat on a chair near her, a guitar in his hands. When the woman finished one song, she started signing a more upbeat one, the man plucking the strings of the guitar and grinning up at her. The man was older than her, but he shared some of the same features, bright hazel eyes that seemed to shift between colors with the darkening of the light outside.

People laughed and clapped along with the song, their bodies swaying to the beat, feet tapping against the worn floors.

When her gaze landed on him, it felt like she was singing only for him, a smile plastered on her face despite the exhaustion in her eyes.

I have to meet her.