Brady (Bachelors and Babies Book 15) Read online

  BRADY

  BACHELORS AND BABIES

  Book 15

  Copyright 2020 Carra Copelin

  Cover Charlene Raddon, https://silversagebookcovers.com

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce 0r transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This ebook may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

  Brady is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by, the owners.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Bachelors and Babies Series Booklist

  About Carra

  Chapter One

  Sugar Springs, Texas, Summer 1879

  “Whoa, Emma,” Brady Forester murmured. “We’re here, girl.”

  Reluctantly, his Appaloosa slowed from a canter to a strut as they entered the town of Sugar Springs, Texas. Main Street, as far as he could tell, looked about the same as it had three years ago when he’d left to become a Texas Ranger. He had been proud to be a member of Texas’s top law enforcement agency, and where he’d still be if Ed Terrance hadn’t shot him in the back before making his escape.

  He perused both sides of the street along the way as memories, fond and not so fond, washed over him. Hazelton’s General store still had the same two rocking chairs sitting in front of the large window bearing its name, and a wooden barrel filled with brooms and mops held the door open. A small two-wheeled cart sporting sunflowers and black-eyed susans added a burst of color to the otherwise drab, dried wood frontage. The whole town, he noticed, desperately needed a coat of paint. Before he had gone, the merchants had taken pride in their town with brightly painted fronts and tailored or frilly curtains in the windows.

  As he made his way toward the sheriff’s office at the opposite end of the street, he noticed something else. There were no people shopping or milling about passing the time of day. Granted, it was the middle of July and hotter than blue blazes in the mid-day sun, but the town’s people had never let a little heat deter them from buying cigars, fripperies, or plain gossiping. The doors of the Melrose Hotel stood open hoping to catch a breeze, as they did at George Potts’ Café. A wagon, its horse tied to the rail in front of the Feed and Seed, sat empty waiting for supplies to be loaded.

  It was as if everyone had up and vanished. He hadn’t even seen minimal movement behind the windows along the way putting his senses on high alert. Prickles crept up the back of his neck causing the hairs to push against the collar of his shirt. Maybe he hadn’t recovered as much as he’d thought, but none of this was normal.

  Yancey Kenemer, sheriff of Sugar Springs, stepped out onto the wooden walkway in front of his office, his right hand rested on the grip of the gun on his hip. Brady approached, nodded, slowly dismounted, and tied Emma’s lead to the rail.

  “Where in Sam Hill have you been?”

  Brady shook his mentor’s hand and smiled at his usual brusqueness. He found comfort in the fact that at least one thing hadn’t changed. “I’m sure I could’ve gotten here sooner, but Emma refuses to fly. Don’t you girl?” He ran his hand down the horse’s muzzle when she nudged his shoulder. “I guess you got my letter?”

  “Yep. Came last week.” Yancey turned and entered the office through the open door. “Come on in, I got coffee on the stove.”

  “Good, I could use a cup.” Brady followed him but stood at the threshold while he adjusted to the darkness of the room. His eyes almost watered from the odor of sweat, old whiskey and stale coffee that had been on the fire too long. It was a scent not unfamiliar to him, but unpleasant non-the-less.

  Yancey handed him a stained, chipped mug and, after removing his gun belt, sat in his chair behind the desk.

  Brady took his own seat in a barrel-backed chair, in front of the desk, and put the cup to his lips. The liquid was thick as tar and just as pungent, but he sipped and appreciated the warmth it gave.

  “It’s been a while since I drank anything so . . . fortifying.” He cleared his throat, sat the cup on the desk and ran his tongue across his teeth just to be sure the enamel remained intact. He was, after all, a Texan by birth and coffee at any time of the year, even in mid-summer at a hundred degrees, was an elixir from above and appreciated.

  “I know that’s right,” Yancey said. “Best coffee west of the Brazos.”

  Brady almost came back with a smart comment that one day he would take him to Fort Worth and get him a good cup of coffee so he would know the difference. He had learned a long time ago, though, when to joke with Yancey, and now was not the time.

  Yancey steepled his fingers, staring over the tips, and then, making eye contact, he said, “Now that you’re back in these parts, what’re your plans?”

  “I thought I’d go to my folks place and get it going again.”

  “When are you rejoining your unit?”

  “No plans for any time in the near or distant future. Why, what’s on your mind?”

  “Looks like you came into town at the right time.” He opened the right-hand drawer and pulled something out. “I could use your help.”

  Brady took the silver, five-pointed star and held it in the palm of his hand. Familiar and light to his touch, the tin had the feel of a lead weight. He slid the deputy’s badge across the desk.

  “I’ll help you in any way I can, Yancey. I hope you know that, but I hadn’t planned on trading one star for another so soon.” He took another sip of black sludge and continued, “I want to get Ma’s vegetable garden ready for a spring planting, maybe buy a few head of cattle from the Butters’ Ranch. I’d also like to get Pa’s dream back on track.”

  “That may be harder to do than you’d think.”

  “Why?”

  “Lloyd Butters got thrown from his horse more than a year ago. He ain’t been out of the bed since.”

  “Who’s running things now?”

  “Molly’s doing her best, but between her crotchety old man and that headstrong manager Lloyd hired, I’m afraid she’s fighting a losing battle.”

  “How so?”

  “Cal Harder’s got Lloyd all het up to buy the surrounding land. Lloyd put Harder in charge of acquiring and collections. Since then, he seems to be living up to his name.”

  Brady stood and leaned on the edge of the desk, fury heated his neck and face. “I’ll help you arrest him. What proof have you got?”

  “Now just simmer down. Get your thumb off the hammer and rein in your temper.” Yancey sauntered over to the stove and added coffee to his cup. “These guys are real slick. All I have, so far, is a hunch.”

  “A hunch isn’t worth the lint in your pocket.” Brady sat his cup on the table by the stove, his anger calmed to a low boil. He couldn’t do anything until he had knowledge of the situation, so he changed the subject. “I couldn’t help but notice how empty the town is. Where is everybody?”

  “They’re having a barn raising for Ham Barton. Seems his barn caught fire a few weeks ago and burned to the ground. He los
t some of his stock but his family’s all right.”

  “Nobody saw what happened?”

  “Nope. When I walked through the smoldering ashes the next morning, all I found was an overturned lantern. One of Ham’s boys said he might’ve forgotten to blow out the light.”

  “Do you believe him”

  “It sounds plausible. The kid’s seventeen and in lust with Becky Taylor. Not sure his brain’s working quite right.” Yancey grinned knowingly, stood, fastened his belt and holster around his waist. “Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat, what’s up?”

  “Want to go to a barn raising?”

  ***

  Molly Butters heaped a ladle of beef stew onto Ham Barton’s plate, the last of the volunteers to be fed. His face was as red as the jar of pickled beets sitting at the end of the table. He joined a couple of the other men sitting beneath the shade of a tree and set his plate on the ground. He yanked off his cotton shirt, soaked from his exertions in the heat of the noonday sun, and sat down to eat.

  So many times, she entertained the idea of shedding her clothes - shirt, skirt, petticoats, even her shoes – to run through the cool grass in only her chemise. Boy howdy, would that sight ever shock the matrons of Sugar Springs. She ducked her chin, hiding her grin, at the thought of the stunned look on their faces. Not to mention her father, Lloyd Butters, who believed his only child, and daughter, was the epitome of grace and lady-like actions. So far, she hadn’t destroyed his outdated beliefs. But this was, after all, eighteen hundred seventy-nine. The world was changing at break-neck speed.

  Molly perked up despite the heat while covering the remains of lunch. She entertained all the ways she might bewilder the ladies of the town. She turned toward the voice of her former partner in mischief, Sally McAfee. Still friends, Sally had married last year, and they only saw each other on special occasions.

  “All right, I’m here.” Sally perused the table, rubbing her hands together. “I finally got the baby down, how can I help?”

  “We’re about done here, I think.” Molly glanced to the other end of the long table noting the other women were finished and beginning to drift away to cooler places. Suddenly, she had an idea. “Do you know what I’d like to do?”

  “No, I haven’t a clue. But I hope it involves being a little naughty.” Sally’s hand covered her mouth and she giggled. “I haven’t been bad in so long.”

  “It’s a little naughty, and slightly scandalous if the wrong people saw us.”

  “Are you suggesting about what I think you are?”

  “Yes.” Molly leaned in close, and whispered conspiratorially, “Are you up to it?”

  “I only have one question.” Sally grabbed Molly by the elbow and asked, “Why are we still here?”

  ***

  The sounds of the water rippling over rocks in the creek beckoned, as Molly knew it would. They hadn’t been here for quite some time, but it looked the same bringing warm memories to mind. When they reached the edge of the water, she and Sally tucked their skirts into their waistbands, removed shoes and stockings, and waded in ankle-deep.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Sally laughed. “I’d forgotten how lovely and invigorating this is. How long has it been?”

  “I think it was when we skipped school and Miss Johnson sent our fathers to find us.”

  “That’s right. I remember that.” Sally rubbed her backside and said, “Pa really gave me a whipping.”

  “Lucky for me we lived closer than ya’ll. Papa hit me with his belt every step I took on the way to the house, and then, blistered my behind when we got there.”

  Sally covered her mouth to hide her giggle.

  “Don’t laugh,” Molly exclaimed. “I seriously thought I might never walk again!”

  “And yet…here we are. Shall we pick up where we left off?”

  “I wish, but I’ll need to get Papa home before too long. He gets real cranky if I make him wait after he’s decided it’s time to leave.”

  Molly turned her back to her friend wishing she could take her up on her question, when something shiny in the water caught her attention. In the next instant, she sprawled on all fours, face down in the creek. She stepped on a pointy rock when she tried to stand, and promptly went down on her backside. When she scrabbled to her feet, her best friend was doubled over with laughter. Seeing the hilarity of her situation, she made her decision to give as good as she got.

  “All right Sally McAfee,” Molly squealed with glee. “Now you’ve done it, all bets are off!”

  A short time later, Molly climbed onto the bank soaked to the skin. She put out her hand to help Sally get out of the creek.

  “Would you look at us,” she said, while attempting to pull her skirts away from her legs. Rather than fight that losing battle, she began to unfasten her many layers of skirts, as well as her shirt.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking off my outer clothes, of course. We’re a fright and can’t go back looking like drowned rats.” She stopped what she was doing and asked, “Can we?”

  “No, of course not,” Sally said. “It is tempting though, I must say.”

  They hung their skirts and petticoats on the trees and bushes to dry, then sat on the bank to dry their hair.

  Molly watched Sally run her fingers through her waist-length blonde hair and found a slight tinge of jealousy at the soft curls that formed as it dried. Her own long brown hair dried stick strait with frizz from the roots to the ends. Hair was only one of the things she envied about her friend.

  “Are you happy, Sally?” she asked, quickly adding, “I mean, being married and having a child?”

  “Absolutely, deliriously so.” Sally stood and began to pull her clothes from the limbs and bushes. “David is a good provider, and little Davey is perfect in every way, except for always being hungry. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” She started tugging her still damp petticoats and skirt over her head, mad at herself for losing their happy mood. “I don’t know, I guess I’m feeling a little sorry for myself today. Don’t pay me any mind.”

  “Now, don’t get cross with me, but did you ever get a letter from Brady Forester after he left?”

  “One, when he reached Austin. Nothing since.” She wouldn’t say it out loud, but he’s the one she should be cross with. Not another word from him in three years. If he ever made his way back here, she’d gladly give him a piece of her mind. Startled, Molly felt the warmth of Sally’s arms as she wrapped her into an embrace.

  “Don’t worry, Molly, someone will come along to help you with your situation. If not Brady, then someone.” She smiled, winked, and started for the Barton’s house. “My money is on the Ranger, though!”

  She fastened her top, began braiding her hair, and followed close behind. Could be Sally was right, but Molly Butters sure wasn’t going to hold her breath.

  They rejoined the others in time to see the east wall of the barn break away from the other two, narrowly missing one of the men. Several women screamed and ran toward the calamity but cheered with the men when they realized no one was hurt.

  Molly sent up a silent prayer of thanks that injuries had been avoided and then continued arranging the table for another meal. The men would probably take a break before they tackled raising the wall a second time and she knew, from other get-togethers, men ate heartily even in this heat. She caught sight of Hazel Barton, Ham’s wife, coming toward her.

  “That was close,” Molly said. “Someone could’ve been hurt badly or killed.”

  “Yes, too close,” Hazel stated. “T’was my Hamilton, your foreman saved out there. I might’ve been made a widow today.”

  Molly noticed before Hazel crumpled to the ground, that her knees buckled. She held onto her and signaled for help. Patsy Abney assisted her in getting Hazel to her porch and a rocking chair where other neighbors took over.

  Inside the house, she met Sally coming from a bedroom. The baby was in her arms resting peacefully.

 
“Davey looks none the worse for wear.” Molly brushed a tiny remnant of a tear from his cheek and patted him on the back.

  “He was a little fussy but, fed and dry, he’s quite satisfied like most babies.” She kissed the top of her son’s head and asked, “What are you up to?”

  “Getting pitchers of tea to put on the table, maybe refill some of the dishes so the men can replenish their strength before they tackle the wall again.”

  “I have an idea, here.” Suddenly, Sally thrust baby Davey into Molly’s arms. “It’s my turn to work. You sit in the shade and rock. You two need to get to know each other.”

  With that said and done, Molly looked down as Davey started to fuss. She repositioned his head onto her shoulder and stepped through the door onto the porch. She softly hummed a tune and caressed his back until he settled down. She sat on the top step of the porch, closed her eyes, and breathed in the intoxicating baby scent. It wouldn’t take long for her to follow Davey into dreamland, except she could just imagine her falling off the step and . . .”

  “Molly?”

  And there it was. A soft, deep baritone, a voice as familiar to her as her own. A voice that had the same qualities, even as a boy soprano. The boy who had run with her through the pastures chasing pretend cattle rustlers.

  “Hello, Brady.”

  “Motherhood looks good on you.”

  Chapter Two

  “Whoa there, knute.” Brady reached out his hand to steady Molly when she came close to falling off the step.

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, yeah. Can’t have you dropping the kid before I get a chance to meet him.” He hadn’t intended to startle her, but he had to admit it felt good to know, after three years away, he could still rattle her composure. “What’s this little guy’s name?”

  “Davey, after his father.”

  “Who is?” He didn’t need to know, but something compelled him to ask. When she hesitated, he said quickly, “Never mind, it’s none of my business.”