Kathleen felt two emotions at the same time. Disappointment for Donnigan’s sake and unexplained fear for the small Sean. She didn’t know which feeling was the most intense.

“So what do we do now?” she asked simply.

“Not much we can do, I guess,” said Donnigan. He hung his stained Stetson on the peg by the door and reached to lift his young son from the floor.

* * *

The arrival of Erma’s baby was a grim reminder to Kathleen of the baby she had lost. Little Taryn should have been joining the family about the same time—not four and a half months earlier. Kathleen had a hard time fighting renewed sorrow. But she was happy for Erma.

Lucas was having a bit of a struggle. He had definitely ordered a son. Erma had presented him with a daughter. Blond and dimpled and looking just like her mother. Erma was thrilled, but Lucas seemed confused. For the first time in his life he was dealing with something totally out of his control. First he had lost the child he wanted—then someone had mixed up his order. Poor Lucas. His grip on his world seemed to be slipping from his fingers.

* * *

Kathleen was expecting another baby. Sean, now two, was quickly becoming more and more like his father. Kathleen smiled as she watched the child follow his father around the farm, trying hard to copy everything he saw Donnigan do.

He enjoyed the farm animals, and Kathleen often took him for rides on Shee. He loved the horse and grinned his delight as soon as Kathleen placed him in the saddle.

“That boy needs a pony of his own,” observed Donnigan and promptly set about seeing to it.

“Don’t hurry him too fast,” cautioned Kathleen. She wasn’t yet ready to give up her baby.

But with each passing month, and the new baby on the way, Kathleen was more and more glad for the time that Sean spent with Donnigan. She didn’t tell Donnigan about it, for fear she would trouble him unduly, but she did not feel at all well with this pregnancy. She wondered if it was just concern after having lost Taryn.

Slowly the months ticked by and Kathleen began to feel a bit better and breathe a little easier.

“I hope we can have a doctor on hand this time,” observed Donnigan as he unlaced his heavy work boots one night.

“Why,” teased Kathleen gently. “You did just fine.”

“I was scared to death,” said Donnigan firmly. “I never want to go through that again.”

But he did. Just a few weeks later. There hadn’t been time to send for a doctor. Kathleen was early again.

A baby girl was placed in Kathleen’s arms. Her first thought had been, This can’t be mine. There must be a mix-up. But her own good sense told her that a mix-up was not a possibility.

“She’s so—so different than Sean,” she said to Donnigan.

“Wasn’t that what you said—what you expected?” replied Donnigan. He still looked to be a bundle of nerves, even though it was all over.

“But not this different,” protested Kathleen. The baby she held was dark. With lots of black hair, round full cheeks, and a face that was already screwed up in protest.

They had decided—or rather Kathleen had decided—on the name Fiona if they had a girl. Now the mother smiled at her daughter. “Hello, Fiona,” she said. Then to Donnigan, “Fiona suits her, don’t you think?”

“It’s going to be fun having a daughter,” said Donnigan, and he moved closer to Kathleen and his new baby girl.

* * *

But it was not fun. Not for the first five months. It seemed to Kathleen that Fiona fussed without stopping. Their days, their evenings, their nights were all filled with a crying baby. Donnigan tried to share the duties, but even with the two of them, it was a full-time chore.

Kathleen thought that surely Sean must resent his new baby sister, but Sean seemed to accept her just as she was. “Baby cry,” he would say without rancor, just as though the small boy accepted that was what babies did.

But there were days when Kathleen wondered how much more she could take.

They took the baby off breast milk and tried a bottle. Still Fiona curled into a ball and screamed her protest.

“Her little tummy must be hurting something awful,” observed her patient father. There were times when Kathleen wished the infant were big enough to spank. But even at times of greatest distress and weariness, Kathleen knew that was not the solution. There was something wrong with the child and no one seemed to be able to do anything about it.

One day Donnigan surprised Kathleen with a goat.

“Whatever are we to do with that?” asked Kathleen, thinking that Donnigan had likely brought the animal as a pet for Sean. His own “wee” cow. But to the weary Kathleen, the nanny looked like just another chore.

“Milk her,” said Donnigan.

“Milk her? We scarcely have time to milk the cow.”

“For Fiona,” went on Donnigan. “I’ve heard that sometimes it works.”

And it did. After being switched to goat’s milk, Fiona settled down and became a laughing, bubbling, good-humored baby. Kathleen even got to sleep nights. The household returned to a normal pattern.

“Bless that nanny,” Kathleen said to Donnigan one night as she carefully tucked the covers up to the chin of the sleeping Fiona. Then she lifted her head and smiled at her husband. “And bless you for finding the solution.”

“I had to,” said Donnigan with a teasing grin. “It was either that—or move out.”

* * *

Fiona grew quickly. Even Sean enjoyed her sunny disposition—as long as she didn’t interfere with his time with his father.

But Sean did take care of her. Bringing her things that she should not have—things like his bread crusts, Kathleen’s sewing scissors, and wiggling worms from the garden. Kathleen had to ever be on guard to intercept Sean’s “gifts” to his baby sister.

Kathleen was pleased with her little family. As she became rested again, she was able to really enjoy the two children in spite of the amount of work that had come with them. She almost got to the place where she could forgive God. That is, until she looked at the little grave with its white picket fence and tiny wooden cross.

* * *

If Donnigan was in the barn or working around the yard, Kathleen did not have to concern herself with her small son. He was always following close to his father. He went with Donnigan to care for the horses, slop the pigs, or milk the cow. He watched him hoe the garden, lift water from the well, and chop the wood. Then he tried with all of the strength of his small body to imitate his father’s acts. Donnigan found himself taking extra precautions. He made sure the corral gate was carefully closed. He didn’t want a small boy under the hooves of the horses. He latched the barn door and double checked. He didn’t want Sean kicked by a nervous cow. He secured the well lid, added a second clip that he always put in place. He hung the hoe high above the small boy’s head. Donnigan was very conscious of the small lad who was watching him—copying him.

But in spite of all of Donnigan’s care, an accident did happen.

Wallis had borrowed one of Donnigan’s axes. In coming to call one evening he had spotted a tree down on his fence wires. It was closer to go on to Donnigan’s than to go back home for his own axe. Donnigan got his axe from the woodshed and Wallis took care of the matter. Donnigan thought nothing of it when Wallis came to the door later.

“I put yer axe back,” the man said and Donnigan nodded and invited the man in.

It was while they were having their coffee that they heard the young boy scream. Donnigan was the first to his feet. Kathleen was just behind him.

Sean was seated on the ground, the axe still in his hand, his small foot oozing blood.

“Oh, merciful Lord,” cried Kathleen.

Donnigan scooped up the crying child and headed for the house. Wringing her hands in her apron, Kathleen followed. Wallis could only stand and stare, chiding himself for leaving the axe in the chopping block.

It turned out that it was not a deep cut—but it did cause much concern. Kathleen feared that it might develop blood poisoning, and Donnigan used some of the same strong disinfectant that he used for the stock to assure that it wouldn’t happen. Even though it was diluted, it stung sharply and the small boy cried even louder. Fiona, in her cradle in the corner of the room, heard the cries and joined the bedlam.

Kathleen longed to hold and rock her son, but he clung to his father. She knew she would have to wait her turn. Instead she went to lift the small Fiona from her bed.

Chapter Nineteen

Brenna


When Fiona was a laughing, teasing two-year-old and Sean a four-and-a-half-year-old copy of his father, another baby girl joined the family, aided by the doctor who actually made it on time. Kathleen named her Brenna and Fiona managed to call her Bwee. She was another blond baby but she had more of Kathleen’s features than did Sean.

“Now you’re getting it right,” teased Donnigan. “A little of both of us.” Kathleen just smiled.

Sean and Fiona fell in love with their baby sister at once, but it was generally left to Fiona to do the mothering as Sean was much too busy being a “farm man.”

A few months later, Erma also had another baby and this one too was a girl, much to Lucas’s further consternation. But his oldest girl was busy working on her daddy’s heart, and though Lucas might not have admitted it, she had won him over totally. Erma shared the little tales of the doting papa with Kathleen and they both chuckled over them. Lucas tried so hard to convince everyone that he was totally and completely “all business.”