Robin pulled her hands from his. “Then you pray, Mr. Morgan. And when God answers, you let me know.” She stood and allowed the door to slam behind her. He sounded more and more like a preacher, and she’d learned at ten that preachers couldn’t be trusted.
Come, little children. Come meet Jesus. He will forgive your sins and heal all your infirmities.The visiting evangelist seemed so confident—so promising. She ignored the frown on her mother’s face and the tittering of other children as she limped down the aisle that night. They could laugh all they wanted. Jesus was going to heal her. They’d see.
Only He didn’t. The preacher was wrong.
And it took fifteen bumpy steps to return to her parents.
FIVE
Ty stepped off the porch and took a deep breath of summer air. Could there be a sweeter scent than dew-drenched, sun-warmed prairie? With luck, he’d be able to leave before anyone could question him. But a clatter of feed buckets, followed by his foreman’s long-legged stride toward him, signaled he’d waited too long.
“You headed for the Feather again today, boss?” Rusty raised one eyebrow.
Ty scowled. “What do you mean, again?” He loved this guy like a brother, but the hitch in his eyebrow was more than a question—it was an insinuation. And he didn’t like it.
Rusty shrugged. “Every day last week, third day this week, and it bein’ Wednesday. Can’t say I blame ya none. Right cute little boy. Probably more than John can handle by hisself. But that fishin’ pole ya got in your hand should help.”
Ty grinned in spite of himself. “All little boys deserve to know the thrill of pulling a three-pound catfish out of a creek. Didn’t your pa ever take you fishing?”
“Ever chance we got to sneak away from Ma and my sisters. But sure don’t remember Pa ever smelling so sweet or wearing his white shirt on a weekday. You got special orders today?”
Ty removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “None we’ve not already talked over—keep an eye out for anything or anyone strange. Still can’t believe a man would up and leave his wife and child alone with a storm approaching. Would’ve thought the woman was traveling alone if I hadn’t found men’s clothing among the debris.”
“The boy still won’t talk about it?” Rusty set his buckets on the ground and propped one foot on the bottom rung of the corral fence.
“I haven’t questioned him. Robin . . . er, Miss Wenghold thinks we should let him take his time about what he wants us to know. He doesn’t trust men, that’s for sure, except for John.”
“Not even you?”
“He’s slowly coming around. That’s why I’ve been going so often. Miss Wenghold says if he can see that she trusts me, it might help. And you can wipe that smile off your whiskery face.”
Rusty smoothed his long mustache. “Oh, trust is important, boss. Almost as important as woman-cooked meals, walks down the lane, and poundin’ posts in the ground to string wire across so’s there’d be a place to hang a man’s britches.”
“You been spying on me, have you? How much longer do you want to work on this ranch?”
Rusty moved away from the fence. “Look, Ty. I ain’t been spyin’. You know me better than that. I met John on the road yesterday. He seemed quite pleased with the whole affair.”
“There’s noaffair. Can’t a fella show a little bit of kindness without a big fuss?”
“Ain’t nobody fussing. I can tell you for sure, every man on this place is happy you might be filling your mind with somebody new. You ain’t gone around smiling like this since that . . .”
“Leave it be, Rusty. You go on about your business, and I’ll take care of mine.” He shouldered past his foreman.
“I already saddled Tag for ya. Thought it would save some time.” Rusty matched his stride. “I’m serious, Ty. I know you’re my boss, but you’re also my friend. No need to fight what might be comin’. No need to deny it, neither.” He nudged Ty’s shoulder.
“I’m not going down that road again, pal. Some places don’t need to be revisited.” Tag gave a little hop when he mounted.You’re as eager to run as I am to get away from this conversation, aren’t you, old boy? He nodded at Rusty. “Take care of things. I’ll be back early, unless the fish are biting.”
He spurred his horse and settled into the saddle for the ride across familiar prairie to the Feather.Don’t fight it, he says.He wasn’t fighting, was he? What was there to fight? Jacob was the common denominator between him and Robin. One man, one woman, and a boy didn’t add up to anything to make a fuss over. He was helping. That’s all.
Jacob waved when Ty approached. Why did that make his pulse quicken? Helping, that’s all? Careful, Ty.
“Hey, buddy. You ready to go fishing?” He wrapped Tag’s reins around the hitching post in front of the house and retrieved the fishing pole from behind the saddle.
Robin laughed. “He’s been ready since sunup. He must have asked a hundred times when you would get here. Would you remember to bring a fishing pole for him? Would you bring one for me? The questions didn’t stop until he saw you riding in.”
Ty handed the pole he carried to Jacob. “I brought one for him, but I’m afraid I don’t have one for you.”
“Oh, that’s fine. I thought maybe only the two of you would enjoy a day together. I have things to do here.”
Jacob’s face clouded. “I . . . I have things to do, too.” He handed the pole back to Ty and scooted behind Robin’s skirts.
Ty scowled but was determined not to let this day end before it had a good start. “Well, then—how about I help you do what needs to be done then we can all go fishing together. Would you agree to that, Miss Wenghold?”
“My plan was to surprise you, but I like your idea better—that is, if you don’t mind spending the morning in the kitchen.” She crossed her arms. “Do you know anything about baking cookies, Mr. Morgan, or frying chicken?”
Ty leaned against the porch pillar across from her. This was a side of Robin he’d not witnessed. She was bantering with him. And she seemed right pleased with herself. “For a fact, Miss Wenghold, I’m quite a good cook. Don’t know much about sweet stuff baking, but can fry a real mean chicken.”
Jacob emerged, arms crossed in replica of Robin. “Ourchickens aren’t mean.”
Robin giggled. “Mr. Morgan is bragging about what a good cook he is, Jacob. He didn’t mean the chickens were mean. What do you think? Could he make better fried chicken than me?”
Jacob shook his head. “Mens don’t cook gooder than ladies, do they, Robin?”
Ty knelt so he would be eye level with the boy. “What say we let her cook and bring us lunch, then we’ll catch fish for supper. Think we can do that?”
Jacob turned to Robin. “Will you come for promise?”
“I promise, Jacob. Ty and I will always keep our promises to you.”
Ty’s chest tightened. She’d never called him anything other than Mr. Morgan. Did his face reveal his surprise? His pleasure? Why did it please him? It wasn’t like he’d never had a woman use his first name.
Jacob slung the pole across his shoulder and reached for Ty’s hand. “I’m ready now.”
Ty squeezed the boy’s fingers. “Can you whistle, Jacob? A fella needs to whistle when he’s going fishing.”
Jacob puckered his lips and blew. Lots of air escaped, but no noise.
“That’s okay, buddy. You keep practicing. You’ll be whistling by the time we reach the creek.” Ty glanced over his shoulder as they stepped from the porch. Jacob’s hand was warm against his, and the smile on Robin’s face warmed his heart. He’d told Rusty he wasn’t going down this road again.
But this was a different journey. Wasn’t it?
###
Jacob squished an ant that crawled across the tattered quilt Robin had spread on the ground for their picnic. “Thank you for the lunch, Robin. It was good, and I’m sorry I got pickle juice on your dress. May I be excused, please?” Jacob swiped his hand across his mouth. “Can
you come fishing now?”
Robin brushed cookie crumbs off Jacob’s cheek. “Thank you for using your manners, Jacob. Yes, you may be excused, but I’m going to sit for a bit before I go fishing.”
“Aww. Why do big peoples always have to sit still after they eat?”
Ty ruffled the boy’s hair. “When I was a boy my mama made me take a nap after lunch. Doesn’t that sound like a good idea?”
“Not very.” Jacob’s lower lip jutted.
“Come here, buddy.” Ty pulled his watch from the pocket of his britches. “Here, you take this and lie down here beside Miss Robin and when that big hand—see the big hand?—when it gets to this number with a one and a two, then we’ll go fishing.”
Jacob sat on the blanket and crossed his legs. “But that will take a long time.”
“No, it won’t. Lie here on your tummy and put my watch by your head so you can count the ticks. It won’t take long at all.”
Jacob flipped to his stomach and put the watch to his ear. He rubbed the blanket between his thumb and forefinger then closed his eyes.
Ty stretched out beside Jacob, propped on one elbow, and rubbed the child’s back. “Works every time.” He grinned at Robin. “Quiets kitties and puppies, too, when they’ve been taken from their mothers.”
“Or their mothers taken from them,” she whispered.
“That, too. But he seems to be adjusting, don’t you think? At least he lets me touch him now.” Ty brushed at a fly that swarmed around Jacob’s face
“He likes you, Ty. He told me so last night, and again this morning—several times. He said, ‘Ty can do everything. He can even spit, cuz I saw him.’ Thank you for that demonstration, by the way. I’m sure he’ll need to try it for himself.” She moved the picnic basket to provide shade for Jacob’s face.
He grinned. “Well, since we’re telling tales on Jacob, you want to know what he said about you while we were fishing?”
“Only if it’s worth repeating.
“He said you cook even gooder than his ma, and you can sing, and you sweep floors, and you make real funny faces right before you sneeze.”
Robin laughed. “He brought me a bouquet of some kind of little yellow flower. I don’t know what they call it, but it did make me sneeze.”
“I must say, your list of accomplishments impresses me.” He stood and stretched. “Would you care to walk along the creek? We’ll stay where we can see Jacob. But if I don’t move around I’ll be the next one asleep, even without the watch ticking in my ear.”
Robin swallowed. Why didn’t she think before this picnic idea? The walk to the creek with the basket and blanket was almost more than she could manage, but Ty and Jacob had been busy fishing and hadn’t observed her near fall. Oh, she wanted to walk with this man. Yet, the years of taunts and ridicule had taken their toll on her confidence. She and Ty had been together nearly every day since her arrival. But this was the first time he’d suggested time alone. He’d invited her to accompany him to church last Sunday, but she’d managed to change the subject when Jacob interrupted their conversation. She certainly didn’t want to divert his attention now. But how could she explain that she’d need help to even rise from the ground.
Ty knelt in front of her. “Robin? Was I being too forward? I thought maybe . . .”
She shook her head and made herself look at him—a lesson learned at her papa’s insistence—face your fear Robin, and often it will become your friend.“I . . . Mr. Morgan, we’ve been sitting for a long time, and it will be difficult for me to stand. Only two men in my life have ever helped me in such a manner.”
“Have you forgotten that day on Morgan’s hill, when we found this little tornado?” Before she could object Ty bent and placed his hands under her arms and lifted her easily to her feet. He steadied her against his chest with one arm against her back. “Promise me you will never hesitate to ask me foranything.”
The rumble of his voice against her ear vibrated through her senses. William Benson had tugged her to her feet more than once, but she’d never had her heart tugged—until now.
As a young girl she’d imagined being swept into the arms of a handsome prince. As a young lady of coming-out age, while she sat on the sidelines and watched her girlfriends glide across the dance floor in the arms of a beau, she would tap her foot and hope Mama wouldn’t see her. And she would tell herself that her prince would still come someday. And later, at the girls-only party that followed the soiree, her heart thrilled while her friends tittered and blushed their way through whispered accounts of stolen kisses and promises made in darkened hallways. Then—one by one, as her friends married—her prince became only an idle hope. And Mama no longer gazed with disapproval while she sat on the sidelines with widows and maiden ladies many years her senior. Nor could she remember the last time she’d tapped her foot in anticipation.
But now—now, in Ty Morgan’s arms . . .This is silliness, Robin. He helped you up . . . nothing more. He was only being a gentleman.Yet, the thrum of his heart matched the cadence of hers. And though she had both feet on the ground, he did not release her from his embrace.
“Got your bearings? I don’t want to let go of you until you do.” His arm tightened around her shoulders. “Who were they?”
Robin pulled away to look at him. “Who were they?”
The space between his eyebrows crinkled. “The other two men who helped you. Who were they?”
Did it truly matter to him? “My papa and a friend of the family.”
“Not a man friend? A friend friend. Right?”
This was new territory for her—this sensation that someone like Ty Morgan might be interested in her. Did she dare imagine even a bit of jealousy? Her limited intuition about such matters told her this was not the wisest time to expound on her relationship with William Benson. She smiled. Perhaps Ty wouldn’t sense her hesitancy. How could she explain William to another man? “An old friend.”
He leaned closer. “And how would you describe me to this old friend?”
She took a deep breath. Oh my, but he smelled good; however, she’d resist the urge to sniff again. Warmth tingled her toes, swirled through her tummy, and moved right on up. She wanted to fan herself, but that would be a bit awkward. Besides, the fan would doubtless send a whiff of pickle juice right to his nostrils. “I suppose I would say you’re anewfriend.”
Ty chuckled. “I expected something a bit more eloquent, like—dashing or handsome.” His arm moved to her waist. “Let’s walk. I have something I want you to see. Maybe then you will even say I’m special.”
“Is it far? I don’t want Jacob to be frightened if he wakes up and doesn’t see us right away.”
“Not far, and we’ll be able to hear if he calls. Promise.” Ty led her around the other side of the tree that sheltered their picnic spot.
The large trunk, on the side not previously visible to Robin, was hollowed out, a depression large enough for only one person. Ty loosened his grip on her waist. “This is my ‘leaning’ tree. I hid in here for the first time after my pa scolded me for not keeping my word. I rolled a pair of socks together with a clean shirt, got my fishing pole, and ran away from home.”
Robin laughed. “And you knew this place was here?”
Ty nodded. “John showed it to me one day. I came down here often when I was a boy. Your grandmother Wenghold made the best molasses cookies in Kansas, and she was just as sweet. I wouldn’t be surprised if John hid in this same tree when he was a lad.”
“Did your papa know where to find you?
“Now that I’m older I’m quite sure he knew all about this place. He left me out here the first night to teach me a lesson. I sat on the ground with my bundle of clothes until it grew too dark to see.”
“Were you afraid of the dark?”
He shook his head. “Not the dark around me, but the dark eyes I’d encounter when I faced my pa. I knew he would be disappointed and that was worse than any spanking he could have administered.”
> “You said it was your ‘leaning’ tree.” Robin scrunched herself into the cavity and leaned against the rough bark. “It is comfortable, isn’t it?”
“I got too big to huddle down on the ground inside, but I could lean against it all day. It’s my ‘safe’ place. This old tree knows more about me than anyone living. When my pa was dying, I would come here and let the familiar notch embrace me. It frightened me to think of taking over the responsibility of running the ranch myself. I spent the night after Ma died in here, listening to the night sounds and watching clouds sweep across the face of the moon. I needed the familiar noises and scenes that I’d experienced with her, sitting on our porch or walking down the lane in the dark. And that night after . . .”
Robin put her fingers on his lips. She didn’t know what memory she interrupted, but with each remembrance his eyes darkened, and the furrow on his brow deepened. “Didn’t you ever come here in happy times? Has this tree ever seen you smile?”
He placed his hands on either side of the entrance and leaned toward her. “This is a happy time, Robin.” His gaze met hers. “And I’m smiling.”
He was so near she could hear the steadytick, tick, tick. . . She closed her eyes.Oh, Robin, you silly girl. It wasn’t his heart.
“The big hand is on a one and a two, Ty. Now can we go fishing?” Jacob wiggled his way between them, the watch held high in his hands like a trophy.
###
Ty waited for Jacob’s rhythmic breathing to signal the tyke was asleep before he blew out the lamp and made his way downstairs. He didn’t want to take a chance the little scamp would interrupt his conversation with Robin again. He’d come close to telling her about his one and only love, until now. Why? He’d never even shown her his tree. Why was it important for Robin to know his past?
John met him at the bottom of the steps. “You get the boy down for the night?”
Robin Page 5
