Page 27 of Her Gentle Protector
Baxter paused and lifted the lid from the Dutch oven, peeking inside. He scraped the wooden spoon across the bottom of the black cast-iron pot. There were only a few grains of rice to be seen. The beans had been reduced to a paste-like substance and there was barely enough gravy to coat the spoon. He wondered if it would be enough to feed even one mouse in the barn.
Fury rose in his chest, hot and heavy, and he clenched his fists as he shouted, “How many times have you gone without a proper meal?” His voice reverberated off the walls of the small room.
The surprise in her eyes was unmistakable. She cautiously replied, “I’m not sure what you mean?” The sadness on his face was clear. He didn’t want to repeat the question.
“It’s apparent you’ve been going without so your siblings can eat. How long have you been skipping meals so they can eat?” He slid the plate she made for him in front of her.
She glanced down at the plate, then back up at him, her warm brown eyes holding his gaze. “I’m fine, Baxter. Ain’t no need to fuss over me.”
“Eat,” he insisted, his voice firm but gentle. “Them young’uns need you strong and healthy.” He pushed the plate toward her, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
Reluctantly, Midge picked up her fork, poking at the beans and rice. As she ate, Baxter leaned against the wall, watching her with concern. The worry lines creasing her forehead seemed out of place on someone so young.
“I heard Marmee call you Miriam.” Baxter asked, watching her eat. “Why do folks call you Midge?”
Midge paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Miriam was my mama’s name, too. After she passed, I started goin’ by Midge so the young’uns wouldn’t get confused.”
Baxter nodded, understanding the weight that rested on her shoulders. “You’re doin’ right by them, Miriam. Your mama would be proud.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across her face before she glanced down, focusing on her plate. “Thank you, Baxter. That means a lot.”
With the last bite of food gone, Midge pushed her plate away and stood, fatigue clear in her posture. “I best be gettin’ some sleep. We have an early mornin’ tomorrow.”
“You’re not done yet.” He dropped the cheese sandwich on the table. “Eat that as well.”
“What are you going to have for supper?”
“I have some apples and biscuits in the barn.”
She unwrapped the napkin and looked at the sandwich as if were manna from heaven. “It looks wonderful. Thank you, Baxter.”
“Reckon I best head back to the barn.” As he opened the door, Midge’s voice stopped him.
“Will you be warm enough out there?” she asked, her concern clear.
Baxter offered a reassuring smile. “I’ll be just fine, Miriam. Don’t you worry about me. Good night.”
She pushed away from the table and raced over to him, reaching up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”
With a nod, he stepped out into the cool night, leaving the warmth of the house and the woman who was quickly capturing his thoughts with every passing moment.
The temperature had dropped, and the night was dark. Not even the glow from the moon provided any light. He closed the barn door behind him and could still feel the cool air seeping through the cracks. Knickers nodding his colossal head as Baxter walked over to pat the horse. “Good night, Knickers,” he murmured. The animal’s warm breaths huffed in response, a comforting presence in the dimly lit barn.
He hoisted himself onto the wagon with a soft grunt, settling into the bedroll he’d laid out earlier. The straw beneath the wagon wheels creaked as he adjusted his position, trying to find a comfortable spot.
“Mew!”
He felt a kitten jump into the wagon and climb on his legs, the small paws kneading him through the blanket. Soon three kittens were curled up next to him and the sound of their low purrs mixed with the gentle rustling of Knickers shifting in his stall.
As he closed his eyes, images of Midge flitted through his mind. Midge cooking dinner where there was enough to go around. The children sitting at a table that was large enough for everybody. And when dinner was done, they could go sit on the porch and watch the fireflies dance in the warm summer air.
“Miriam,” he murmured, testing her name on his lips.It suited her,he thought,strong and steadfast, like the woman herself.
“Sleep well, Miriam,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice barely audible. Sleep claimed him, wrapping him in dreams of a fierce, brown-eyed woman and the promise of a new day ahead.
Baxter stumbled out of the barn, every bone in his body aching from sleeping in the back of the wagon. The morning sun had just peaked over the horizon, casting long shadows across the dried grass and dirt. He made his way to the fence line, leaning against the wooden posts as he wiped away strands of dew-drenched hair from his forehead. He’d been working on the homestead for what felt like forever, but it wasn’t even two weeks. Although he’d made some progress, something seemed always to be left to do. His head was already throbbing in frustration as he surveyed the never-ending list of chores ahead of him.
What he would give for a cup of coffee and one of Annamae’s biscuits.
