Tomorrow's Dreams (45 page)

“I—she—” Penelope stammered in her urgency to make the deputy understand her position. “She's got him hidden in a cabin in the foothills. I'm not exactly sure where … I was blindfolded when we went up there. But if you'll hold her for a few days while I search, I know I can find him.”

The deputy shook his head. “Unless you can produce evidence that this baby exists, some sort of paperwork, or even someone who's seen him, I have no grounds to hold Madame du Charme.”

“But can't you see?” she cried, her voice now edged with hysteria. “If you let her go, she'll take him away where I'll never find him. Or maybe even kill him. Please—”

“Deputy, do you really want to chance having an innocent child's blood on your hands?” Seth interjected, giving Penelope's waist a reassuring squeeze. “Be warned: if this child comes to harm because of your failure to take action, I'll see that you're stripped of your badge and never hold a decent position again. By the time I'm done, you'll be lucky to find a job digging graves.”

The deputy quailed visibly beneath Seth's threat, yet he doggedly insisted, “The law is the law, and I can't be arresting folks without evidence that a crime has been committed. Now, if the lady can show me something to back her claims—”

“I can back her claims,” boomed a deep voice from the door.

Penelope's heart seemed to miss a beat as she swiveled her head to identify her savior. It was One-eyed Caleb. He was lounging against the doorjamb with his arm thrown casually around the shoulders of a buxom blond saloon girl. With a grace that was as beautiful as it was predatory, he straightened up and sauntered into the room, coming to a stop opposite Penelope.

“You've seen this child?” the deputy asked, hopefully.

Caleb nodded. “Lorelei, here, came to me a few weeks ago, wantin' to hire me to rescue her kid. She didn't have the money for my fee, but I knew by the look in her eyes that she'd get it somehow, so I went ahead and did the trackin' on faith. I followed her and Prescott to a cabin in the foothills one Sunday, and saw her bring a baby outside to show it a couple of rabbits.”

Adele began to protest, but he cut her off. “It was Lorelei's kid. Don't let Madame, here, tell you any different I heard Prescott and another man talkin' about it out back of the cabin. Seems Madame, here, has been up to some nasty tricks.” He fixed Adele with a look of pure loathing. “Never could abide anyone usin' kids like that. Been eatin' at me so bad that I was gonna get Lorelei's kid back for her, free of charge.”

Seth stepped forward to offer Caleb his hand. “I'll pay you double your usual tracking fee if you'll take us to that cabin now. I want my baby safe as soon as possible and”—he shot a commanding look at the deputy—“Madame du Charme arrested immediately.”

While the two men shook hands, the deputy seized Adele.

“Yes. Hurry after your brat,” she taunted with wicked glee. “Who knows? You might even get there in time to find him alive.”

Penelope gasped, panic exploding in her chest.

Seth snarled, his hands clenched into fists as he advanced toward the gloating woman. “If you've harmed that baby—”

She laughed, a vicious, ugly sound. “Oh, I haven't done a thing to your little darling. I didn't have to. I got word days ago that he contracted measles from a wagonful of homesteaders who stopped at the cabin for water. Sam says he's real sick.” Her eyes glittered with malice as she fixed her gaze on Penelope. “Seems you might get rid of your brat after all, Lorelei, just like you wanted when you came to me whining for an abortion.”

Penelope felt the color drain from her cheeks as Seth slowly turned to face her. He looked devastated, more wounded even than when he'd told her of his parentage. “You sought to rid yourself of my child?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Seth,” she murmured, shaking her head helplessly as she moved toward him. “I—”

“Is it true?” he demanded, cringing from her touch as if it burned him. “Did you wish to destroy our child?” His anguished gaze bore into hers, ruthlessly seeking the truth, fervently imploring her to tell him that it was all a lie.

After a beat, she opened her mouth to explain, to beg him to understand. But it was too late. He'd turned away.

He'd seen the answer in her eyes.

Chapter 25

No one in the party spoke as they made their way up the foothills toward the cabin where the baby was being held. Caleb, astride a black and white pinto, led the way, followed by Penelope and Doc Larson, with Seth trailing several paces behind.

Penelope had ridden by Seth's side for the first few miles, tearfully trying to explain why she'd sought Adele's services. But he was in no mood to listen, and after ignoring her for what felt like an eternity, she gave up and urged her horse forward to ride with the more congenial Doc Larson.

God, he was tired. So damn exhausted that he couldn't see straight. Seth rubbed his eyes for the hundredth time that morning, then squinted painfully at the rocky horizon. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? Not only did everything look like a badly focused photograph, but the sunlight, dim as it was through the covering of clouds, hurt his eyes almost unbearably.

And then there was his head. He soundlessly groaned his misery. The throbbing that had plagued him at the dance was back, and becoming alarmingly more intense as the hours went by. So were the dizziness and nausea.

Seth gritted his already clenched teeth tighter and braced himself more firmly in the saddle. It was a miracle he hadn't fallen from his horse, what with his light-headedness. And thank God he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday. He could just see it if he were to fall from his horse and be sick, Penelope would fuss and fawn over him, and show him all the sweet compassion of which he knew she was capable. That would be intolerable …

… And wonderfully welcome. He grunted his frustration. He was so damn confused about his feeling for Penelope and what she'd done, that he didn't know if he was coming or going.

While half of him understood the desperation that had driven her to seek Adele's services, the other, perhaps the unwanted child he'd once been, cried out in protest. That an innocent babe should pay for his parents' mistakes was an outrage he found unforgivable.

And yet how could he not forgive her? Especially when it was he who had driven her to Adele? By the very nature of his accusations, he'd made it impossible for her to come to him, leaving her with few options, none of them pleasant. Perhaps if he were in her shoes, he, too, might have approached Adele.

Seth shuddered. No. He doubted if he could be so cold-blooded. After all, was tearing a child from the womb really any more forgivable than killing it after it was born, as his mother had sought to do? If indeed his mother was guilty of that crime. Suddenly things were less black and white.

Hadn't he seen by the example of his own son's present circumstances that a mother was sometimes powerless to control her child's fate? And knowing that, wasn't it only fair to consider the possibility that his grandfather had kidnapped him, as Louisa claimed, and that she truly hadn't found out that he was alive until years later?

That troubling hypothesis simply made his head pound harder, so he pushed it from his mind. He'd think about Louisa later, when his mind was clearer …

… If it cleared
, Seth brooded, the ominous hidden-injuries-turned-fatal tales springing to the forefront of his mind. He grunted at his own foolishness. Ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with him. He was just tired, and with good reason. He'd spent the entire night making love to Penelope …

Like the thoughts of his mother, he instantly banished the remembrance of their night together. He wouldn't think about their passion, their sweet rapture. To do so would only further muddy his judgment, and he had to view the present situation as objectively as possible. He had to decide what was best for their son, and then act on that decision.

Not that there was really anything to decide. Marrying Penelope and providing the baby with a home and a name was the only right choice there was. The real question was: could he live with Penelope knowing she was capable of being so heartless?

Could he live without her, loving he as he still did?

He was so preoccupied with his tormenting thoughts, that he almost fell from his horse when it skittered to a dancing halt. With a sharp jerk of his head, he glanced up to see what was wrong, a move that set the world spinning before his eyes. Through the speeding blur of his dizziness, he discerned that the rest of the riders had stopped and were starting to dismount.

In a flash of hunter green, Penelope was off her horse and running toward a ramshackle cabin, shouting, “Sam! Minerva!”

The sagging door opened instantly, and on the threshold appeared a gray-haired man of medium build. When he saw Penelope, he took her arm and escorted her inside. After several seconds, Seth and the doctor followed, leaving Caleb to tend the horses.

While the doctor bustled directly into the cabin, Seth lagged behind, strangely apprehensive. What should he say to his son? Uncomfortably he remembered the scene from the night before, and his own cruel rejection of his mother. What if his own son spurned him as well? How would he bear the hurt?

Then he laughed at his own foolishness. His son was two years old, for God's sake, hardly of an age to notice much less make a value judgment of his father's absence. Undoubtedly after getting over the initial shyness most children displayed around strangers, they would get along splendidly. Suddenly eager to make his son's acquaintance, he hurried through the door.

The cabin was a one-room affair, primitively crafted with an odd assortment of animal pelts nailed to the walls, probably to block out the wind. The floor was packed earth, and there was a crude stone hearth at the far wall.

As rough as the structure was, there were visible signs that someone had tried to make it homey. Colorful autumn leaves and late-blooming fire wheels were arranged in a dented coffeepot atop the scarred dining table. A rag rug, round and rainbow bright, lay next to a bed covered in a quilt gaily patterned with red, white, and blue fans. Over the cot that Penelope, Doc Larson, and two other people hovered, someone had tacked up several etchings portraying rabbits, all obviously torn from magazines and painstakingly tinted by a skilled hand.

In several long strides, Seth covered the short distance between the threshold and the cot. Like the Red Sea to Moses' command, the small group parted, making space for him next to the baby's side. One of the strangers, a woman, spoke to him, but he was too stunned by the sight of his son to comprehend her words.

Never had he felt more cursed, never was he more aware of his tainted blood than at that moment as he looked upon his son's twisted limbs. Slowly his shock gave way to grief-stricken guilt, and he sank to his knees, suddenly too weak to stand.

Dear God! What terrible sin had he committed to evoke such wrath? And how, in the name of heaven, could a being touted as infinitely kind, merciful, and fair be so vicious as to take His fury out on an innocent babe?

As Seth kneeled beside his son, alternately raging against God and cursing himself, he felt a tentative touch on his arm. “His name is Thomas Albert, after my grandfathers,” he heard Penelope say.

Too choked with emotion to reply, he merely nodded.

“I know I should have warned you about Tommy's—afflictions,” she continued, stumbling over the word
afflictions
, “but I … I didn't know what to say. I hoped that once you saw him and saw how beautiful he is, that it wouldn't make any difference.”

The pleading note in her voice made him glance at her sharply. She was watching him anxiously, her eyes mutely imploring him to forgive their son his shortcomings and to try to love him in spite of them.

There was something about her silent plea, perhaps its intimation that he might think their son unworthy of love because of his deformities, that sent a sudden, fierce sense of paternal protectiveness hurling through him. That he, or anyone, would shun a child simply because it was different was a thought almost too monstrous to comprehend.

Yet, sadly, he knew that it happened all too often. While at the orphanage, he'd seen countless children abandoned because their parents couldn't accept their imperfections. Even now he remembered those poor creatures, the way they were rejected and scorned, addressed only with the cruelest of taunts. It had broken his heart then; it enraged him now.

And at that moment, as Seth enfolded his son's tiny, awkwardly contorted fist in his hand, he silently swore that no matter what it took, his child would never suffer for being different. He'd see that Tommy never knew anything but love and kindness, and that he was cherished as no child before him.

Seth smiled down at his son then, his heart swelling with tenderness. “He's beautiful,” he murmured to Penelope.

And he was, Seth realized, releasing the baby's hand so Doc Larson could examine him. Despite the brownish-pink spots marring his skin and the swelling in his face, he was a very handsome boy. But then, how could he not be with Penelope as his mother?

“Seth?” Penelope whispered. She sounded breathless, choked.

“Hmm?” He dragged his gaze away from the baby to glance at her. Her eyes shimmered with tears, but she was smiling sweetly and with a gratitude that made him all the more determined to do right by their son. For Tommy's sake … and hers.

“Thank you.”

He shook his head and returned her smile with his own gentle one. “No. Thank you for giving me such a perfect son.”

“This child is very ill,” the doctor announced, though to all present he was merely stating the obvious. “His temperature is 104, and he's dehydrated. I can't tell for certain, but I suspect by his high fever and the convulsions Mrs. Skolfield described that the infection has spread to his brain.”