Page 15 of Her Gentle Protector
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Midge said quietly.
Baxter stepped closer and gently took her hand in his. “Don’t worry about it, Midge. Just take care of yourself and your siblings. And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Midge looked up at him with gratitude in her eyes, and for one moment, it tempted him to lean down and kiss her. He had no right to even think about touching her. He was almost old enough to be her father, and he didn’t want to take advantage of her.
Instead, he squeezed her hand before letting it go.
“I should be going. It’s getting late and I have work to do at my farm.”
She gave a giggle. “You don’t have to fix up the chicken coop anymore.”
His lips quirked to the side in almost a smile. “Just for the foxes that might slip in where someone cut the fence.”
“Oh.” She looked at the table and put the jar of honey next to the bread. “I’ll come by and fix it.”
“I doubt you’ll be able to take care of it.”
“Why do you say that?”
Baxter waved his hand around. “You can barely take care of this place.”
Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. “Well, I’ll just say thank you again. You don’t have to come back.” She looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and understanding.
“What’s this?” Ira asked, carrying in the burlap sack.
“That,” Baxter said, taking the bag and opening it. He pulled out a cob. “Is field corn. It is drying out, but you can boil it, scrape it, and put it in a bowl. Add a bit of sugar and milk and it makes a fine breakfast.”
“Do we have sugar?” Jenny asked, lugging in a basket of potatoes and apples.
“There’s a small bag. And some coffee.” He tied the bag and dropped it to the floor.
“Can you hold Olive for a minute? I’ll help the children put everything away so you can take the baskets home.”
Before he could protest, Midge thrust Olive in his arms and flitted around the small area, putting the produce in bowls or buckets that she found. He stood stiffly at first, unsure of how to hold the child, but remembered seeing Ma bounce a young’un a time or two on her lap. Gingerly, Baxter swayed Olive from side to side, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spread across his belly at her delighted laughter. She looked up at him with wide eyes full of amusement as she put her chubby fingers on his cheeks and patted him several times before suddenly throwing her head back and releasing a stream of liquid that cascaded down the front of his pants.
He pulled the small child away from him hastily, holding her with outstretched arms away from himself so that no more mess would be made. Olive continued to giggle uncontrollably despite having soaked Baxter’s pants, and he couldn’t help but smile too at the sight—until he realized what had happened.
“She peed on me!” he bellowed.
“Oh, my goodness,” Midge cried, rushing to gather her youngest sister. “Let me get you a rag so you can get cleaned up.” Handing Olive to Petunia, who dangled her with two hands as she carried her outside, Midge grabbed a rag and started blotting Baxter’s belly.
“Stop,” he said, grabbing her hands. He took the rag from her, and as he ran it over the damp spot on his shirt, a dark smudge appeared and spread. He lifted the cloth to scrutinize it. The rag was coated with grime, and now his shirt had streaks of urine and God knows what else all over it. Midge hung back, embarrassed, as he let out a deep growl before wordlessly handing back the rag and throwing his arms up in defeat. “I’ll just take care of it when I get home.”
“She’s just a baby.”
“I said I’ll take care of it when I get home.” As he picked up the empty basket and walked out of the house, he could feel his pants and shirt clinging uncomfortably to his damp skin. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt and shame wash over him.
He should have left the moment he delivered the supplies, but he couldn’t help but want to stay and help Midge and her family. Tossing the baskets in the back of the cart, he climbed on board Knickers without tying them down. It was going to be a long ride home in wet pants.
“Goodbye, Mr. Baxter!” a childish voice called, followed by a chorus of others.
Baxter turned around to see the children lined up on the rotting porch. It surprised him they hadn’t fallen through. Midge stood behind them, her hands on the little girl’s shoulders.
“Come along, Daisy,” he said, tugging on the donkey’s lead. Ignoring the calls from the children, he started the trek home. It went much faster since the wooden cart was empty.
After putting the cart away and releasing Knickers and Daisy into the field, Baxter headed towards the house, but the young woman down the road invaded his thoughts. He wondered how old she really was. He tried to guess her age as he visualized her face with a washcloth, scrubbing it clean, her dark hair combed and tucked neatly behind her ears, her hazel eyes sparkling in the sun.
It didn’t matter, though; he knew he couldn’t act on his feelings. It would be wrong, and he didn’t want to hurt her or the children. Plus, he had his own farm to take care of, and he couldn’t afford to distract himself with anything or anyone else. He would help Midge and her family as much as he could, but he would do it from a distance, as he didn’t want to become too attached.
