Sawyer made a noncommittal sound, trying very hard to ignore the effect her nearness and sweet smile were having on him. She was his employee, nothing more.
Deciding he needed to focus elsewhere, he set his mind to wondering what their homeplace would look like. How did the children of a man like Clyde Gilley live?
As the carriage pulled into the yard, Sawyer’s gaze was immediately drawn to a huge limb that lay on the ground just shy of the house.
“Was this here when you left yesterday?”
Emma Jean’s eyes had widened and she bit her lip as she shook her head. “The storm must have knocked it down last night.”
Sawyer set the brake and climbed down. “Let’s hope it didn’t hit the house on its way down. It looks big enough to do some real damage.”
He moved around the wagon and took AJ while Emma Jean disembarked. Henry scrambled down right behind her.
Without a word, Sawyer handed the baby back to her and marched over to the fallen limb, studying the roof of the house as he approached.
He turned when he heard her behind him. “You’re in luck—it looks like it came straight down.”
She offered a crooked smile. “At least it’ll provide some firewood once we get it chopped up proper.” Then she turned her back on the offending limb and shifted AJ in her arms. “If you’ll take AJ, I’ll take care of the animals.”
But Sawyer shook his head. “AJ looks comfortable right where he is. Henry, you and I can take care of feeding the animals while your sister takes AJ inside out of the wind.”
Henry cast a quick glance his sister’s way and she gave him a nod. He turned back to Sawyer and waved toward the barn. “Come on, I’ll show you where we keep the feed.”
As Sawyer followed Henry to the barn, he noted the upper hinge on the door was barely hanging on. Once inside, he glanced at the empty stalls and the tack hanging on nails over a workbench. “Looks like you used to have more stock than a couple of goats and some chickens.”
Henry moved toward a stall on the far end. “We also had a milk cow, a hog, a mule, and a horse. Bessie died and we had to sell the hog this summer. And Pa took Cleo with him when he—” The boy’s voice broke and he ducked his head.
But Sawyer had no problem filling in the blanks, including the fact that Cleo was the horse’s name. “Let’s split up the work,” he said, giving the boy time to compose himself. “You take care of the goats, and I’ll feed the chickens.”
Henry nodded and pointed to a sack in a corner of a stall. “There’s the chicken feed. The coop is out behind the barn.” Then the boy headed out, presumably to tend to the goats.
Sawyer grabbed the sack and was surprised by how light it was. Depending on how many chickens they had, this might last a week. And there didn’t seem to be another sack around. Which made him wonder—where did she get her feed? She certainly hadn’t been in the mercantile in the past four months.
He headed out behind the barn and found three hens and a scrawny rooster in the chicken yard. As soon as he scattered the feed, the poultry began scratching for it. While they were busy with that, he checked the henhouse and found two eggs, so he carefully placed one in each of his shirt pockets.
As he headed back to the barn to put away the feed, he paused to take a good look around. The first thing he spotted was a vegetable garden that looked like some critter had torn into.
He slowly turned and noted signs of disrepair everywhere. The back porch had several spindles missing from the railing. The goats were apparently staying in their enclosure from habit since the pen had several gaping holes. The stack of firewood by the back porch was down to a half dozen pieces. And that was just what he could see from a brief look around.
Some of the problems he noted seemed older than four months. It appeared Clyde Gilley hadn’t been much use around here.
He was beginning to understand why Emma Jean had been so desperate to find a job.
And speaking of Emma Jean…
He turned and headed for the house. When he stepped inside, he halted on the threshold.
AJ lay in his basket on the floor nearby—how had she gotten it out of the buggy and in here on her own?
Emma Jean was busy wringing dirty water from a mop into a bucket. It seemed a strange time for her to decide to mop the floor.
Then her gaze shot to his and a guilty red stain crawled up her cheeks. Surely she wasn’t embarrassed to have been caught cleaning? Did she think he would begrudge her the time?
Then he stiffened as he spotted the loom across the room, that glaring reminder of how she’d profited from her father’s crimes. Had he really allowed himself to push that important detail to the back of his mind?
The guilt in her expression suddenly made all the sense in the world. He crossed his arms and held her gaze.
Would she try to explain herself, give him some excuse?
Chapter 18
Emma Jean continued wringing out the mop. She’d hoped to have the floor dried before he finished with the animals, but she should have known Sawyer would be quick. He likely didn’t want to spend any more time around here than he had to. She’d also noted the change in his manner when he spotted her loom. Why oh why had she purchased it? The timing of it couldn’t have been worse.
When he didn’t say anything, she straightened and met his gaze. “If you’re ready to go, I can finish this up when I come back this evening.”
“I can wait a few minutes if you want to wrap this up.” His polite words were at odds with the hardness of his tone.
Feeling self-conscious, she went back to work. From the corner of her eye, she saw his keen gaze glance around her place, no doubt taking in every imperfection and sign of their poverty.
Then he glanced up and his gaze sharpened. So he’d noticed the watermarks on the ceiling.
“Did that limb hit the house last night after all?”
She shook her head. “That wasn’t the first limb to fall—last time we weren’t so lucky. I did my best to patch it up, but—” She shrugged. Let him fill in the rest.
“How long ago?”
“That big storm that came through back in September.” She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, pushing the stray tendrils out of her eyes. She tried to figure out what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable. Then his gaze landed on the loom again and his frown deepened.
“Where’s Henry?” she asked, trying to distract him.
“Last I saw, he seemed to be petting on the kid.”
She smiled. “That’s Dinky. Henry thinks of him more as a pet than a farm animal.”
His eyebrow rose at that. “You name all your livestock?”
“Of course. Dinky’s mom is Queenie, the rooster is Scratch, and the hens are Rosie, Pris, and Dot.”
He rolled his eyes, but AJ started fussing, distracting him from whatever he was planning to say. She straightened, but Sawyer waved her back. “I’ll check on him.”
She watched as he lifted AJ from the basket and rested the baby’s chest against his shoulder. AJ immediately quieted and started sucking on his fist as he looked around.
The picture they painted made something warm pool at the center of her being, made her yearn for what could never be.
Then she realized he was watching her and she quickly turned back to her work.
After a moment, Sawyer cleared his throat. “I think I’ll take AJ outside while you finish up in here.”
“Of course. I won’t be but another few minutes.” Was he uncomfortable in her house?
She squeezed the mop out one last time and then looked around. Thankfully the leaks were confined to this part of the house.
She carried the mop and bucket out the back door and hung the mop on the nail affixed to the wall for just that purpose. Then she tossed the dirty water in the yard. She spotted Sawyer near the goat pen, talking to Henry.
Before she could turn and go back inside, his gaze latched onto hers. “Emma Jean, a moment please.�
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She watched as he approached, Henry trailing along behind. There was something about the look on Sawyer’s face that got her guard up.
He stopped near the edge of the porch, still patting AJ’s bottom. “I’ve reached a decision.”
Her hand tightened on the pail. Had something he’d seen here caused him to change his mind about hiring her? But she fought to keep the concern from her voice as she responded. “What’s that?”
“Last night I got the best night’s sleep I’ve had since AJ arrived. No baby waking in the middle of the night for me to tend to, no diapers to change.”
What was this leading to? “That sounds like a good thing.”
“Oh, it definitely was. So I think the best thing for me would be to continue to sleep at the mercantile and let you serve the night watch in my house with AJ the next week or so.”
That wasn’t at all what she’d expected. “But, I mean, surely you don’t want to spend all your nights on a cot?”
“I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t.”
She waved a hand out toward the barnyard. “What about the animals? They still need to be fed.”
“Henry and I can take care of that before I open the shop in the mornings while you tend to AJ.” He turned to the boy. “If you think you can handle that? It’ll mean getting up extra early.”
Henry nodded. “Yes sir.”
He turned back to her. “So if you need to pack anything, do it quickly. I need to get back to town and reopen the mercantile.”
“Of course.” She set the pail down and headed back inside the house without another word.
As Emma Jean quickly folded her meager clothing and placed it in her faded carpetbag, she wondered what had brought this on. Was he really just looking for a good night’s sleep? After all, his original intent had been to hire someone who could spend the night at his house without stirring up gossip.
Still, there was something about the way he’d looked, about the tone of his voice, that made her think there was more to it than that.
But what was that something more—kindness? Pity?
The thought of the latter both humiliated and angered her.
But another part of her felt something different, something softer, warmer. It had been so long since anyone had actually shown any sort of kindness to her and Henry that just the idea of it made tears sting the back of her eyes.
Sawyer obviously wouldn’t appreciate an emotional display from her, so she got herself under control. With one last look around to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything, Emma Jean headed out the door, scooping up AJ’s basket as she went.
How long would it be before she returned?
Sawyer stopped the carriage in front of his house and held AJ while the Gilleys climbed down.
Emma Jean met his gaze as she took the baby. “Are you coming in to eat lunch before you reopen the mercantile?”
Sawyer shook his head. “No time. I’ll see you after I close up this evening.”
“But—”
He cut her off, ready to get away and do some thinking. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to skip a meal, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” He shrugged. “If I get hungry enough, I’ll find something on the store shelves I can eat.” Then he tipped his hat and set the carriage in motion before she could speak.
At the livery he made arrangements to use the horse and buggy for the next several mornings, then headed to the mercantile.
As he marched down the sidewalk, he kept picturing the loom and all it signified. Over the past couple of days he’d begun to see Emma Jean in a different light. He’d seen so much warmth and dignity and industriousness in her he’d almost forgotten she was Clyde Gilley’s daughter. Maybe it was all an act, but he was having trouble believing that. He usually considered himself a good judge of character.
Maybe he should give her a chance to tell her side of the story. That seemed only fair.
He kept visualizing the Gilleys’ homeplace. It clearly required more upkeep than she and Henry were capable of.
Of course, their problems weren’t his concern.
So why did it feel like they were?
The sight of three people standing impatiently outside the mercantile waiting for him to reopen pulled his thoughts back to the present.
Twenty minutes after Sawyer reopened the store, Henry walked in carrying a small cloth-covered basket. Right behind him was Emma Jean, pushing the baby stroller.
His only customer just then was Mrs. Mulligan, the hotel manager’s wife. She was studying the fabrics in the dry goods section, but when she spied the new arrivals, she immediately drew her four-year-old daughter closer to her side.
Sawyer frowned. She had reasons to fear Clyde Gilley—the man had injured her husband when he robbed the hotel safe. But did she honestly think Henry and Emma Jean posed some kind of danger to her or her daughter?
Hoping the Gilleys hadn’t noticed, he nodded a greeting their way. “Did you two need something?”
Henry set the basket on the counter with a flourish. “We came to deliver your lunch.”
“I thought I told you not to bother.” Sawyer lifted the cloth and saw a sandwich and a slice of last night’s pie. “But it sure does look good. Thank you.”
He took both items out and placed them on the cloth, then reached behind the counter where he’d stored several cans of condensed and evaporated milk. “I’d already put these aside to take home this evening,” he said as he loaded the cans into the basket. “Since you’re here, you can save me the trouble.”
Henry’s gaze was focused on something on the counter, but at Sawyer’s words, he looked up. “Yes sir.”
He handed the basket to Henry. “It’s heavy—do you think you can handle it?”
Henry accepted the basket, and though it was obvious that it was heavier than he expected, he thrust out his chest and nodded.
Noticing where the boy’s gaze had once again drifted to, Sawyer reached over to the jar of licorice whips and added a couple to the basket. “For your trouble.”
The boy’s expression lit up as if Sawyer had just handed him an extraordinary gift. “Yes sir!”
But his sister spoke up, her tone firm. “Mr. Flynn, that’s really not—”
Sawyer interrupted. “I’m just paying him his due—no more, no less.”
Then he straightened. “Are there any other provisions you need for the house while you’re here?”
“No, thank you.” Emma Jean turned to Henry. “Come along”—she cast a quick glance toward Mrs. Mulligan—“we need to let Mr. Flynn get back to his customers.”
So she’d noticed the hotel manager’s wife.
As soon as they had made their exit, Mrs. Mulligan put down the bolt of fabric she’d been fingering, took a firmer hold of her daughter’s hand, and marched up to the counter.
“So, I see it’s true,” she said through tight lips. “You did hire the Gilley girl to look after your new charge.”
Sawyer folded his arms across his chest, trying to figure out how to respond. He understood her anger, but he didn’t like her tone. “I did.”
“How could you let someone like that around a defenseless infant?”
“Someone like what?”
She obviously missed the warning in his tone. “The daughter of a robber and murderer, of course. I would think you of all people would know better.”
Sawyer stiffened. Did she think he was making light of Lanny’s death? “She’s not her father.”
“But she is a Gilley. And it was a Gilley who held my husband at gunpoint while he stole money that belonged to the town, then knocked him out hard enough to give him a concussion. And then he shot your brother while making his escape.”
Sawyer’s jaw tightened. “I know what he did, and believe me, if that”—he caught himself, glancing at the four-year-old burrowed into her mother’s skirt—“that snake was right here, he’d pay the price. But I’ll say again, Miss Gilley is not her father.
”
“Maybe not, but there’s those as say she knows where he’s hiding out.”
He’d had suspicions along those same lines himself not too long ago. But it wouldn’t serve any purpose to say so. Besides, there wasn’t any proof. “I don’t put much store in gossip.” Then he shrugged. “Besides, it’s just temporary. I plan to make other arrangements as soon as I can.”
“The sooner, the better.” The woman drew herself up with an audible sniff. “Until then, I plan to spend as little time in this place as possible.”
Sawyer gave her a stiff nod. “That is your prerogative.”
With a short nod of her own, the woman made her exit.
Sawyer rubbed his jaw. Was he letting his sympathy for the Gilleys’ situation blind him to the truth?
He needed to have that talk with Emma Jean this very evening and get some straight answers. It was time to find out if she’d really profited from her father’s villainy or not.
And if she had, he had some tough decisions to make.
Chapter 19
When Sawyer returned home that evening, he found all three of them in the kitchen. Emma Jean was busy at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled absolutely delicious.
A quilt was spread out on the floor and Henry was seated there, keeping AJ entertained. As Sawyer watched, AJ got up on hands and knees and started swaying forward and back.
“What’s he doing?”
Emma Jean glanced down and smiled. “He’s testing his wings. Looks like it won’t be long before he starts crawling.”
Sawyer wasn’t sure if he should be proud of the kid for his progress or alarmed by all that went with a mobile infant.
Emma Jean turned to Henry. “Wash up and then set the table. We’ll be ready to eat in a few minutes.”
Sawyer decided the conversation he wanted to have with her could wait until after supper when Henry was otherwise occupied.
All through the meal he found himself distracted, feeling both eager to have it out with her and dreading what he would learn. The edginess he felt must have shown because he caught Emma Jean studying him with a puzzled expression more than once.
Sawyer (Bachelors And Babies Book 6) Page 8
