The Rails to Love Romance Collection

by Brandmeyer, Diana Lesire; Cabot, Amanda; Carter, Lisa

  The preacher’s warm hand curled over her shoulder. “Now, don’t despair, Miss Emmett. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need to. An’ there’s still a month until the circuit judge comes. A whole lot can change in a whole month.”

  “That’s right.” Mrs. Voth caught Amelia’s wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. “We all know Abe Early is a good man who’d provide a lovin’ home for that little girl. He might be runnin’ scared now, but that doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind. All it’ll take is a little coaxin’ an’ a little teachin’ an’ a lot of prayers.”

  Amelia managed a weak smile. “Well, if you folks are willing to provide the prayers, I’ll do my part to coax them together and teach him how to take care of Lucy.”

  “An’ in case it don’t work out,” Preacher Henry said, “I’ll start spreadin’ the word about a little girl needin’ a home. That way you don’t need to worry any about Lucy, Miss Emmett. She’ll be cared for.”

  Amelia nodded, but inwardly she cringed. Of course someone would welcome a sweet, adorable little girl into their home. But Amelia needed a home, too. Who from this little Kansas town would want to woo an old-maid, big-city woman?

  Chapter Eight

  After their conversation around the dinner table, Amelia and Mrs. Voth began a new habit of praying together before Amelia set out for the Early farm. She treasured those prayers, and she reflected on them in the moments when Mr. Early behaved particularly standoffish. Knowing Mrs. Voth was praying helped her hold to hope that the man’s defensive walls would crumble and he would soften toward Lucy. But she didn’t allow herself to hope he would soften toward her. She wouldn’t risk her heart.

  Lucy, although very young and without an ounce of guile, did her part to win the tall man’s affection, too. Whenever she and Amelia stepped into the yard to hang laundry, dip water from the well, or feed the chickens, Lucy would race to the edge of the field, jump up and down, and call, “Uncoo Abe! Uncoo Abe!” until he finally waved back. When the man entered the house, Lucy pranced close and beamed up at him, raising her arms to be held. Amelia never witnessed him holding the child, but she wondered if he did so when the two of them were alone. Otherwise, why would Lucy continue to expect it?

  Every evening for the next two weeks, when Amelia returned to the Voths she spent a few minutes in their small parlor sharing any changes in Abe’s behavior toward Lucy. On one day she reported him waving at the child from the field; on another she shared how he helped Lucy with her napkin during lunch. She didn’t tell them how he’d caught her watching him and went all pink in the face.

  On another day she told them that he hadn’t shooed the child to the other side of the room while he soaped up at the washbowl the way he had on previous days. The second Friday in May she could hardly wait to divulge how he invited her and Lucy to the barn to peek in on a new litter of kittens. He’d even put his hands on the child’s waist to help her keep her balance on the stall wall. And when Amelia went up on tiptoe to look, too, he’d given her a rare, genuine smile and offered his hand to help her step onto the bottom railing. Now, hours later, her palm still tingled from the touch of his strong, callused fingers.

  “An’ tomorrow’s Saturday, the last day of the week.” Mrs. Voth tapped her chin with one finger and scowled. “Every Saturday you’ve brought Lucy here to stay through ’til Monday mornin’, but…” She whirled to face her husband. “Henry, what would you think about leavin’ the young’un out at the farm this time? Let Abe get the child up on Sunday mornin’ and bring her in for service on his own? Do you think he’s ready for it?”

  The preacher sucked in his lips and rocked in his creaky old rocking chair, his forehead puckering. “That’d be a mighty big change from what he’s used to. As I recall, there’s only been the one day Lucy woke up before Amelia reached the farm, an’ even then he didn’t get her dressed or anything. He only took her to the outhouse.”

  Amelia ducked her head so they wouldn’t see the blush she knew was stealing across her cheeks. She couldn’t hang his clothes on the line without remembering how he’d looked standing in the yard with Lucy perched on his arm and the pink rays of dawn illuminating the long underwear that covered his tall frame.

  “You might be right.” Mrs. Voth blew out a breath. “Reckon he’d need to practice it a time or two before bein’ expected to ready that child for Sunday service. Say!” Her expression brightened. “How ’bout you hold off on gettin’ over there tomorrow mornin’, Amelia? Give him the chance to take care of Lucy before you arrive. If you come late—say, eight or so—an’ the little one’s still in her nightgown an’ he’s ignorin’ her, then you’ll know he’s not ready for time alone. But if he gets her in a little dress, maybe sets her at the table with a cold biscuit, that’ll tell you he can do the same for Sunday mornin’. An’ more important, it’ll tell him he can do it.”

  Part of Amelia resisted the plan. She loved her early morning hours with Lucy. There was something special about the smell of the sleepy child. She cherished the trusting way the little girl leaned against her while Amelia ran a comb through her hair. Was she ready to give up those sweet moments?

  “I don’t reckon there’s any harm in givin’ him a chance. How much damage could he do in one hour on a Saturday mornin’?” Preacher Henry brought the rocker to a stop and beamed at his wife. “It’s a good plan, Lizzie.”

  She sent a smug smile across the room. “I think so, too. ’Course…” She gazed intently at Amelia. “It’s up to you, dearie. It’ll take a heap of trust. Are you ready?”

  Where was she? Abe chewed his lip and sent another look out the window. No horse and wagon approaching. Not even a cloud of dust to show one might be coming soon. The sun had been up for over an hour already. He’d already dressed, milked the cow, and fed and watered the stock. He needed to put some breakfast in his stomach then head to the field. If she didn’t hurry, the little girl would wake, and then—

  A small hand tugged his pant leg. “Uncoo Abe?”

  Abe swallowed a groan. Too late. He gazed down. The child’s sleep-heavy eyes and tousled hair stirred protectiveness to life within him. She was so small. So helpless. Panic chased the flow of protectiveness away. He needed the woman’s help. “Need the outhouse?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “Let’s go then.” Maybe by the time they were done in there, Miss Emmett would arrive. Lucy finished her morning business, and Abe carried her back to the house, but still no wagon rolled up the lane. So now what?

  Lucy touched his cheek, then jerked her hand back and squealed. “Owie! Sharp!”

  Abe put her on the floor, scowling. “Only one night’s whiskers. Can’t be that bad.” He rubbed his jaw. More prickly than he’d expected. “Well, all right then, but you don’t have to fuss at me. I’ll shave ’em.” Funny how good it felt to talk to somebody first thing in the morning.

  The child stayed close, her fingertips resting on the edge of the washstand while Abe cleared his face of the dark shadow. When he was done, Lucy quirked her fingers at him. Confused, he bent low. She smoothed her fingers along his cheek then grinned. “Soft.”

  Abe straightened abruptly. He’d never been called soft before. He harrumphed. “Least I’m not sharp anymore. C’mon, you.” He herded her to the table. “Sit yourself up there an’ I’ll see if I can find somethin’ for you to eat.” He didn’t mind hardtack or even leftover beans for his own breakfast, but he wasn’t sure how Miss Emmett would feel about the little girl eating such manly food.

  He scrounged through the cupboards and located a half loaf of bread. He sawed off a good sized chunk, dropped it in a bowl, then poured milk over it. His ma had fixed him milk toast when he was a boy, usually when he had an upset stomach. Lucy didn’t seem to be ailing, but the breakfast wouldn’t do her any harm.

  He plopped the bowl and a spoon in front of her. “There you go. Eat up.”

  The child folded her hands and closed her eyes.

&nb
sp; Abe automatically did the same.

  “Fank You fo’ my food. Amen.”

  He looked at her.

  She smiled.

  His insides went all quivery. Maybe he needed a bowl of milk toast, too.

  He returned to the dry sink to cut another piece of bread, and the clock on the fireplace mantle sent out its chime for half past the hour. Seven thirty already. Abe dropped the knife and moved to the window. He searched the sunlit horizon, but it was as peaceful as midnight out there. Had something happened to the woman? With spring came snakes. Had one spooked ol’ Pet into bolting? His hunger departed, and he paced the room, checking the clock every other minute.

  Lucy finished her bread and then drank every drop of milk from the bowl. She plunked the empty bowl on the table and shot a smile at Abe. “I aw done.” She wriggled out of the chair and trotted to her doorway. “Put dress on, Uncoo Abe?”

  He sent another hopeful look out the window. No sign of the woman. The fields were waiting for his attention, but he couldn’t think about a crop until he knew Miss Emmett was safe. He’d hitch Ed’s horse and wagon and go look for her. He’d had to take Lucy with him, and she needed to wear something besides her nightgown. “All right. Let’s go.”

  Amelia’s heart beat double time, and her palms were slick from sweat. The entire drive from town she’d repeatedly prayed that Mr. Early and Lucy’s morning had gone smoothly, but worry still tangled her in knots. Had she trusted him too soon?

  She pulled up next to the barn, like always, and sent a glance around. The yard was empty, the surroundings quiet save the chickens’ soft clucking from their pen. A bit of the worry eased. She set the brake and turned to climb down from the wagon’s seat. As she placed her foot on the wagon wheel, which made a handy ladder, a series of thuds sounded inside the house followed by piercing screams. Lucy!

  She leaped, landed hard enough to jar the soles of her feet, and took off at a stumbling run. For the first time since her daily treks to the farm, she didn’t bother knocking on the door but simply burst in and darted for the little room where Lucy slept, guided by the child’s continued wails.

  Mr. Early sat on the floor holding his head. The pair of crates with Lucy’s belongings lay on their side next to him, their contents scattered. Lucy—half-dressed, red faced, and screeching—crouched in the opposite corner.

  Amelia went straight to Lucy and scooped her up. The child continued to wail, and Amelia spoke over the noise. “What happened? How did she get hurt?”

  The man slowly lifted his head and squinted at Amelia. “She ain’t hurt. Not sure why she’s bellowin’ except maybe I scared her when I fell. Lord knows I scared myself.”

  Now that she understood, Amelia gave the child a little shake. “Lucy, hush that. You’re fine. No more crying.” With a few hiccups, Lucy quieted. Amelia plopped her onto the straw bed. “Stay there. I need to see to Mr. Early.”

  Mr. Early slowly pushed to his feet. “No need for that. I’ve taken harder lumps than this one.” He fingered a spot between his right eyebrow and hairline.

  Amelia wrung her hands and stared at the purple knot forming on his forehead. “How did you fall?”

  He grimaced. “I was tryin’ to get her wrestled into a dress. She kept prancin’ out of reach. I moved to catch her, she whirled and came back, and I tried to keep from steppin’ on her. Went down so fast I hardly knew I was fallin’. Knocked the crates to kingdom come, but at least I didn’t land on the child.” He wobbled a bit.

  Guilt smote Amelia. She grabbed his elbow and guided him to a chair at the table. “Oh, Mr. Early, I’m so sorry. Lucy likes playing little cat-and-mouse games in the morning. I—I should have been here.”

  He scowled. “Where were you anyway? Did Pet throw a shoe, or did a wheel come loose?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I…” She didn’t want to tell him why she’d dallied. He might not take it well, considering.

  “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  The sincere relief in his muttered statement made tears sting Amelia’s eyes. “Let me get a cold rag to put on that bump.”

  He rose, shaking his head. “Now that you’re here, I need to get busy. Morning’s gettin’ away from me. I wanna be puttin’ seeds in the ground come Monday, and my land needs one more goin’ over with the tiller.”

  She gaped at him. “But you’re hurt. You aren’t even steady on your feet.”

  He planted his feet wide and stopped the slight swaying. “I’m fine.”

  He wasn’t, but she knew he’d never admit it.

  He headed for the back door. “Finish gettin’ her dressed, then gather up her things. Take her to town with you. It just ain’t gonna work for her to stay out here with me.” His face contorted with pain Amelia sensed went deeper than physical discomfort, and his voice turned harsh. “I could’ve squashed her flat, even broken her bones. She ain’t safe with me. Take her, Miss Emmett. Please… take her away.”

  Chapter Nine

  By bedtime on Saturday, Abe regretted his hasty decision to send the little girl away. During his long evening alone, with no woman puttering at the dry sink or child jabbering, he experienced a deep loneliness. As deep as the early days of Ed’s marriage to Ruby, when the two of them spent every spare minute alone and left him to himself. As he lay on his bed in the quiet house, he told himself he’d adjust. He’d used the woman and child to replace Ed and Ruby in his mind. He only needed to get used to being alone. It would take time, but he could do it.

  Sure he could.

  His convictions faltered the moment he spotted Miss Emmett and little Lucy in church Sunday morning. He hoped no one asked him about the sermon after the service, because he couldn’t pull his attention from the woman and child. Miss Emmett wore her familiar flat-brimmed straw hat with roses shaped out of filmy fabric. Lucy, who sat in the woman’s lap, kept reaching up to touch the flowers. Each time Miss Emmett caught the child’s hand and lowered it to her lap, never once smiling or shifting her attention from Preacher Henry. Such a persistent imp, and such a patient woman. Abe tamped down chortles at their battle of wills.

  Lucy finally gave up and tipped her head against Miss Emmett’s shoulder. Miss Emmett rewarded the child with a warm smile and a kiss on the top of her tousled head. Abe had to bite the tip of his tongue to hold back a hurrah at the woman’s victory. And all achieved without anger or threats or a smack on the hand the way lots of parents would have done. Miss Emmett was a natural mother. The image of the two of them settled in his heart and lingered.

  Without any warning, his mind began tripping through other pictures of the woman—cooking at his stove, smiling shyly across the dinner table, washing dishes at his dry sink, tossing sheets over the line, scattering apple peels to the chickens, pointing him to the fresh bowl of water when he returned from the fields… She’d settled into wifely duties in his house as if she’d always lived on a farm.

  He examined her wheat-colored hair smoothed into a roll that held the hat at a pert angle on her head, the sweet curve of her jaw, and the slight upturn of her rosy lips. Such a pretty woman. And capable beyond his expectations, given her slight figure and big-city background. The regret that stabbed his chest last night returned with a mighty thrust. What had he been thinking? In one big swoop, the reason he sent them away washed over him. He’d almost stepped on Lucy. He could’ve hurt her. Hurt her badly. Sweat broke out over his flesh, considering what might have happened.

  “But it didn’t.”

  Preacher Henry’s staunch statement nearly sent Abe from his bench. Had the man been reading his thoughts? He jerked his attention forward and realized the preacher wasn’t even looking in his direction. So the words were part of his sermon. Yet Abe’s pulse continued to pound as he forced himself to listen.

  “Nope, not a one of David’s sins—and there were many!—prevented God from callin’ him a man of His heart.” Preacher Henry’s warm smile drifted across the gathered worshippers, drifted over and then past Abe. “
That’s ’cause David was repentant. He asked God for forgiveness an’ then made an effort to not make the same mistakes again. And God in His lovin’ mercy answered David’s prayer and equipped him with the strength to overcome temptation. That very same God loves us as much as He loved David. God’ll do the same for each of us when we come to Him with repentant, open hearts.”

  Preacher Henry invited everyone to rise for a final hymn, and the congregation broke into “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,” one of the most rousing hymns from their new songbooks. Abe added his voice to the throng, but when they reached the third verse, his throat tightened and he could only listen.

  “What have I to dread, what have I to fear, leaning on the everlasting arms…”

  Now that the service had ended, would Mr. Early come over and talk to her? Amelia had been aware of his gaze fixed on her the entire morning. It had taken every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep from looking back at him. Had it not been for Lucy’s repeated attempts to play with the flowers on her hat, which gave her something else on which to focus, she wouldn’t have been able to resist.

  The little girl had fallen asleep with her head nestled in the curve of Amelia’s neck. With effort, Amelia rose while holding the sleeping child and turned to make her way to the center aisle in the hopes of exchanging a few words with the tall farmer. But folks gathered in little clusters to chat, and Amelia found herself trapped by groups on either side of her.

  He’d made his way to the center aisle, and his height let him look over the heads of the women and meet her gaze. A sheepish grin lifted the corners of his mouth. But what did it mean? Was he sorry he’d banished Lucy from his house or only sorry about the way he’d done it—in anger? She wanted to ask him. The group blocking her pathway moved, and she started in Mr. Early’s direction.

  “Miss Emmett?” Preacher Henry and a couple she hadn’t yet met stepped into her pathway. “I’d like you to meet Bent and Millie Wilcox. They have a farm west of town.”