Wistful in Wisconsin

she’d first arrived in Idyll Wood. One look at her and he’d invited her to lunch at the café.
If only he’d asked her why she was in town. He should have pried. Since she’d only just arrived, he’d been sure they would have time to get to know one another.
The woman climbing up the buggy wheel didn’t resemble that vision in light blue he saw in his mind’s eye from that lost June day. She was more capable. That made no sense. He knew her to be a silly woman. Why would he think of her as capable?
She snorted, bringing him out of his reverie. The baby whimpered as Lilah reached into his coat and lifted Little Blossom from his hands. She swaddled the tablecloth around the thin body and held her close innately, having removed her gloves. Perhaps she was only imitating him.
Lilah’s hands had felt warm through the much-washed fabric of his shirt. A ripple of awareness at her touch went through him. Why this woman?
“Aren’t we going to continue on to your brother’s home?”
Her voice held a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. He glanced to his side and saw her pursed lips. Annoyance definitely seemed to be the dominate feeling, if her expression was anything to go by.
Not answering her, he unwound the buggy ribbons and set the horses into motion—both the one pulling the buggy and the one tied behind. Beside him, Lilah sang a lullaby to the whimpering baby. Her soft voice rang out in the stillness, clear and lovely. It reminded him of water bubbling in a brook, and he smiled.
The music lulled him. For a moment, he forgot about the election. Fred didn’t even think about the reason he wanted this woman to spend time with Myra.
No, he simply soaked in the contentment of this purely domestic moment. Why, it was almost like having a wife and child of his own. A sweet, beautiful wife who loved—
Wait a minute! Was this another part of her plan to wear him down? Lilah made no secret of her desire to marry him. Here she was, putting him in the hero position again as he helped her save this little tyke.
Without hiding his suspicion, he asked, “Why do you have this baby?”
The lullaby stopped abruptly. “Didn’t I tell you? I found her.”
That made no sense. “Found her? You should have reported that.” He shook his head at her oversight.
Tsk. She made a tsking sound, at him!
“What do you expect? She’d arrived not long before you did. And, after all, you are the sheriff, and you know about her.”
When she stopped speaking, he took his eyes away from the road in front of them, to glance at her. Her mouth thinned mutinously. He saw the ridiculousness of his complaint.
“You’re right, of course. Sorry to attack you.” At her nod, he faced forward again as he spoke. “But, tell me exactly how you found the baby.”
Soft words, kept sweet now for the infant, sounded to his right. “A knock on my backdoor drew me. I was in the kitchen, so I caught sight of a woman running off as I opened the door.”
Using his sheriff voice, he broke into her story to ask a question. “Did you recognize the woman?”
A low sob startled him. Fred gazed down into stormy brown eyes. “She was there, with me. Marta.”
Immediately, he knew where there was. The brothel. This poor baby came out of violence. Such a lovely creation to have that as her beginning. It suddenly ran through his mind that, while he’d saved Lilah from a fate worse than death, other women in that brothel weren’t there by choice and had suffered through terrible acts.
A shudder shook him. He felt so strongly about the intimacy of sex that he’d determined early on to wait for his bride. How many women had wanted that same thing only to be tricked into applying for jobs before men like Halderson delivered them to the brothel.
At least Halderson was in prison. He’d refused to name the person behind the scheme to sell women. For a while, Fred had been suspicious of the mercantile owners. That woman, Mrs. Olsen, was also in prison, for murder. She’d freely confessed her crimes and white slaving hadn’t been one of them.
Forcing his mind to focus on the issue with the baby, Fred buried his frustration over not catching the leader. He peaked at Lilah and saw her tightly cradle the bundle in her arms. Tears dripped from her nose and landed on the tablecloth. Even so, she smiled sweetly down at the small, sleeping face.
Clearing his throat, Fred worked to maintain a neutral voice, the one he considered to be professional. “About the note you mentioned. What did it say?”
Sniffling, Lilah inhaled before gulping audibly. When she did speak, her voice was sweet and chirpy. She was stalking him again. He felt it and inwardly shied away, though he didn’t so much as shift from her side.
“The writing was poorly done. I understood it well enough to know that Marta wanted me to have her baby so she could start a new life.”
A sigh came up from her toes and whooshed out with force. “She must be desperate. In the note, she wrote that I was kind so she thought I would be a good mother.”
He quirked a brow and pulled back to study her. Really looking at her, he tried to put aside her silly stalking and consider her as a mother. Her lips curved upward, the smile spreading all the way to her pansy-brown eyes. Goodness and tenderness radiated from her. She did look, well, right holding the baby.
Marta was right. She had chosen someone who wouldn’t cheat this baby out of love and the care a little one needed. Even if Lilah didn’t know the