by Nancy Pirri
“Sorry,” he muttered as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Been awhile since I last ate.”
“Then take a chair,” Callahan said. “Hope you don’t mind the informality of eating in the kitchen. Unless we have company, there’s no point hauling the food into the dining room.”
“But, Pa, Mr. Smith is company!” Mark said.
“Uh, that’s true,” Callahan said. “If you prefer…”
Cane replied, “The kitchen’s fine with me.”
“Guess I’m inclined to include you as family, Cane,” Callahan said.
“Me, too!” Mark grinned at Cane.
Cane glanced up and caught the frown on Annie’s face as she moved to the table with a platter in hand. Apparently, she wasn’t ready to think of him as family.
Cane pulled out a chair beside Mark and sank into it. Callahan sat at the head of the table.
Silence ensued when Annie placed the chicken in the center of the table. She reached for the chair opposite Cane and Mark. Cane scrambled from his seat and tore around the table, bumping into Annie in order to hold her chair for her. Grateful for the gentle smile she gave him, he didn’t feel like quite the bumbling idiot when she sat down and he eased her close to the table.
In his own seat once more, he started to reach for his fork but quickly pulled his hand back upon seeing the others bow their heads.
“Heavenly Father, we thank You for the excellent food, provided by Your generosity, and for the guest at our table tonight. Amen,” Callahan prayed.
They ate supper, and it was only after Cane had taken his fourth piece of chicken that he realized the silence. Looking up, chicken leg in mid-air, he met Annie’s wide-eyed expression. He glanced at Mark, who was happily gnawing on a chicken leg, meeting Cane’s eyes with a gleaming, satisfied look in them.
He lowered the chicken leg to his plate. Picking up the linen napkin on his lap, he swiped at his mouth and sat in silence, feeling self-conscious. He’d made a pig of himself, but he hadn’t eaten much since going to prison, and he sure hadn’t eaten any better since his release. He’d been on a mission to find his son and had eaten little in the last week. Now that he’d accomplished that deed, he’d given in to his hunger.
“Hey, Mr. Smith, didn’t I tell ya Annie can cook real good?” Mark said proudly.
“You sure did, son.”
Cane, Annie and Callahan looked at each other before bursting into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Mark asked, confused.
“We’re happy to have Mr. Smith share a meal with us. I’d say that’s something to be happy about, wouldn’t you?” Callahan replied.
“Sure is, and he’s got black hair like me, too. How about that, Pa?”
The adults’ humor dissipated at the innocent remark. Cane swore inside. Damn, telling Mark that he was his natural father wouldn’t be easy for any of them.
The meal ended, and Cane and Mark went off to the library to play checkers.
Her father finished his coffee. “Cane’s willing to take things slow, honey.”
Tears filled her eyes. “That’s one good thing.”
“Do you know the man just got out of prison, after serving seven years?”
Annie gasped. “Oh, my heavens! Is he…I mean…is he danger...?”
“He’d been unjustly accused of a train robbery. Judge Hopkins re-opened the case recently upon new evidence that cleared Cane of all charges. He’s a good man, Annie, and you know it.”
She nodded. “I know he is. I feel it in my heart. How awful that he’s lost so much of his life though.”
“Yes, and he means to atone for those lost years by making a life for him and Mark. He’s planning on staying in the Bozeman area, and starting up his own ranch.”
“Oh! That’s wonderful.”
Callahan eyed his daughter. “You know, Annie, I think I’ve hit upon a solution to this problem.”
She frowned as she rose. “What would that be?”
“You could marry him.”
“Father! You can’t be serious.”
“But I am. As I said, I’ve a good feeling about him.”
“I think you’re right. My instincts tell me he’s good and he’s suffered too much in life, but I can’t marry him. We barely know each other. Not to mention the fact he hasn’t asked me, and likely won’t.”
And until I discover the identity of the man from my last vision, I can’t think of Cane Smith as anything but my enemy.
“Just thought this would remedy the situation is all.”
“Once he learns about my queerness, I don’t think he’ll want me for a wife.”
He grinned. “You never know, honey. It might be the very thing that attracts him.”
She scoffed, “You dreamer you.”
He left the kitchen, and she turned back to her work. The few men who’d come a-courtin’ ended their interest real fast once they heard the talk in town about her gift of “sight.” People were spooked about her abilities, even those who’d known her all her life, with the exception of a few people. Her father, of course, and Katie and James Freeman. She couldn’t change who she was, what she was. Maybe someday, some man would appreciate her gift and not think was crazy.
As she cleared the table, her mind raced at the idea of marrying Cane. She could marry him. It would solve all of their problems. Mark would have parents and a familiar home, too, and they wouldn’t have to move away. They would live in the Bozeman area, close to her father.
She thought about the handsome, cool Cane Smith and shook her head. How could she be considering this? She could never marry him. The man was a tortured soul. More than once, she’d seen the sadness in his dark eyes. She didn’t trust him, and wouldn’t—until her premonition came to fruition one way or another.
Maybe the vision was meant as simply a forewarning that Cane was coming to claim his son, and nothing more. She shook her head.
No.
The premonition held nothing but evil. She decided Cane wasn’t the man in the vision. She didn’t know him well but, like her father, knew instinctively he was a good man.
As she lay in her bed that night, she was stunned when the premonition played in her mind again. She’d never had the same vision more than once. What could this mean? More importantly, who was the man who yanked Mark from her arms?
The following morning, Annie was the first to rise. She started breakfast, knowing soon her father, Mr. Smith, and Mark would be up and about. Her father would supervise the work on the ranch as he did every day. Annie was scheduled to work at The Palace. Mark would accompany her, as usual. He played well with Melanie while the adults worked.
She wasn’t prepared for Cane to saunter into the kitchen first, clean-shaven, hair still wet and combed back from his forehead. He wore a pair of clean dungarees and a chambray shirt. She noticed how broad he was across the chest, how long and powerful his frame.
He cleared his throat. “’Mornin’,” he said.
“Good morning,” she replied before turning back to the flapjacks. Why was her voice so unsteady? Darn the man for being so handsome.
You need a beau, Annie Callahan, that’s the problem.
“There’s bacon, toast and beef hash on the table if you’d like to start while I finish cooking the cakes. Coffee’s there, too.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Annie shot him a glance and saw he was serious.
Bless the man.
She couldn’t recall if her father had ever offered to help with household chores. The Lord said woman was helpmate to man. She smiled, thinking of Cane’s offer in reverse. Mr. Cane Smith was looking more and more attractive.
As she watched him reach up to the shelf for a coffee cup, she said, “You’re our guest, Mr. Smith, so just sit down and eat.”
She heard a chair scrape across the floor. All the while, as she poured the batter and flipped the cakes, she felt his gaze on her—his intense gaze. For once she was glad of her gifts. An unexpecte
d chill raced through her then and she frowned. Nervous as a polecat in a room full of rocking chairs, she finished cooking.
Annie forked several pancakes onto Cane’s plate. He moved so quickly to allow her elbow room, he nearly tipped his chair back. She jammed her free hand down on the back of it and tipped him forward until all four legs settled on the floor.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he muttered.
The loud, sharp sound of shoe-clad feet running down the old rickety stairway that led into the kitchen made Katie scowl. Mark opened the door at the bottom and ran to the table, sinking into his seat. “Smells good, Annie!”
“Haven’t I told you not to use those stairs?”
“Sorry, but I’m hungry and they’re closer.”
“Next time you won’t get any breakfast if you use them. They’re dangerous. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. When we gonna fix those stairs?” he grumbled.
She sighed. “Hopefully sometime this winter.”
Moving to her own chair, her thoughts returned to Cane. She wondered why he was so flustered around her. She was unused to men being self-conscious with her. Usually, it was the other way around.
She didn’t ponder the idea long when Mark piped up, “Flapjacks! Yippee! My favorite.”
Annie gave him a mock scowl. “Did you wash up first before you came to the table?”
“I sure did, and Pa will tell you so,” Mark said self-righteously.
“He did,” her father said as he entered the kitchen. He nodded at Cane. “Hope you slept okay, Mr. Smith.”
“Call me Cane, please.”
“Cane, then.”
“I slept better than I have in seven years.”
Silence ensued as Callahan and Annie stared at Cane. He didn’t want their pity, but he saw it in their eyes. His jaw tightened instinctively.
“Uh, Mr. Smith?”
Cane looked at his son. “Yes, Mark?”
“You better get yourself a new bed if you haven’t been sleeping so good.”
Cane raised his brow. “You may be right.”
Mark tilted his head to the side and stared at him for a long while. Eventually, he said, “How come you always call me ‘son’ like Pa does?”
Have I been calling him that? He cleared his throat. “No reason,” he replied. Taking a sip of coffee, he glanced at Annie who sat across from him, her eyes filled with tears.
Damn!
He didn’t want to make her cry.
Cane ate quickly, rose and moved to the sink where he washed his plate and coffee cup in the soapy water, then rinsed it in a second pan of clear, hot water. Leaving the dishes on the sideboard to dry, he looked at Annie. “Excuse me. I’ll hitch up your wagon, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
Callahan said, “After Mark and Annie leave for the day, can you meet me in the library?”
Cane nodded, then strode outside, breathing in deeply of Montana’s fresh air. If anyone asked him what he missed most in life, it would be years of lost liberty.
He hitched up the horse and wagon, and then took a seat on a wooden rocking chair on the porch. The chair creaked as he started rocking. Cane frowned, deciding he better stop before he broke it. When he pushed himself to his feet, Annie came outside.
“Sit. Rock. You won’t break it. It’s always squeaked,” she informed him.
Cane raised his brow, thinking the woman was a mind reader! “I could fix that squeak for you, ma’am.”
“Don’t you dare. We like the chair, squeak and all. Father is waiting for you in the library.”
He watched her head for the wagon, then followed her. Once he caught up with her, he placed his hands around her waist and eased her up onto the seat. She scowled down at him, picking up the leads. “Would you please stop sneaking up on me like that?” she scolded.
“Sorry.” His lips quirked up into a half smile. “Just wanted to help.”
She narrowed her eyes on him and he looked away, afraid he’d burst out in laughter. The situation wasn’t all that funny, but he hadn’t felt this carefree—free—in years.
“I don’t mind the help, but let me know somehow you’ll be helping,” she said.
“Will do,” he murmured. It seemed he could do little right around this woman but he admitted to himself he enjoyed her skittishness around him. It meant she felt something…for him. Then he thought, Nah!
She sighed. “Sorry. I’m just crabby because I believe I should be part of this discussion, but it seems I won’t be.”
Cane nodded, understanding her shortness now.
Mark tore out of the house. Scrambling up onto the seat beside Annie, he said, “Bye, Mr. Smith!”
Annie snapped the reins, encouraging the horse on its way. “Good day to you, Mr. Smith,” she called.
He watched her expertly handle the horse and wagon until it disappeared from sight. Annie Callahan was too independent, he decided, scowling. No woman of his would go off in a wagon by herself. Plenty of danger lurked on the roads.
Inside the library, he sat with another cup of coffee. Together, he and Callahan planned how to break the news of Mark’s parentage to him.
“I say we just sit him down and tell him,” Cane said.
By the look on Callahan’s face, he knew the man would argue the point.
“We can’t just blurt out the fact you’re Mark’s father without some preparation.”
“Then what do you suggest? I’ve lost time in life and need to get on with it. I can’t move ahead and make plans for my life until Mark’s told.”
“You say you plan on staying here, right?”
Cane nodded. “Soon as I can find myself a spread.”
“Money is no object?”
Suspiciously, Cane murmured, “Pardon me for saying so, sir, but that’s my business.”
Damn the man for making him feel inferior. He’d managed to save quite a sum of money from his cattle-driving days, with plans then to return for Giselle, Mark’s mother. Upon his arrest, the money had been taken from him by Texas law enforcers, who believed it to be evidence—money that’d been stolen in the train robbery. When Cane was released from prison, they’d returned his money to him, with interest.
“You’re right. I apologize,” Callahan said. “How about this arrangement? Stay and work for me for a while so Mark can see you every day. During that time, he’ll get used to you and the two of you can bond naturally. Instead of Annie taking Mark with her to The Palace when she works, you can take him along with you on ranch jobs here. Oh, and I pay my hands well.”
Cane had to admit it was a reasonable plan. Steady money coming in was even better.
Callahan added, “I won’t charge you boarding fees while you work for me either.”
“How long?” Cane asked.
“For as long as it takes Mark to form an attachment to you.”
“We have no idea how long that will be.”
Callahan sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “We’ve never talked with Mark about his past. He’s never asked, though, as I mentioned earlier, we did tell him he’d been adopted. We’ll begin telling him now, in bits and pieces.”
“All right.”
“You know, you deciding to stay around here will help ease the changes the boy will be facing.”
“I don’t think I’d want Mark to live completely without the people who’ve raised him. The people who love him.”
“Actually, I was thinking about my daughter’s attachment to Mark, and not the other way around.” Callahan frowned. “It’ll be difficult for her.”
“Uh, pardon my rudeness in saying this,” Cane said, “but how come she hasn’t married yet?”
Callahan narrowed his eyes on Cane. “You’re new to town and haven’t heard anything about my daughter, have you?”
“Nope, haven’t really spoken with anyone but the judge, you and her, and Mr. and Mrs. Freeman, when I first arrived in town.”
“Annie has a rather unusual gift.”
&
nbsp; The tactful way the man spoke immediately made Cane wary. “What do you mean?”
“She can see things others can’t, future events, in particular.”
One of the books passed onto Cane in jail had been the story of a man who had second sight—the ability to see things in his mind others couldn’t, especially things in the future that hadn’t occurred yet. He’d been skeptical. “I don’t believe in all that crap.”
“Most people don’t. I didn’t myself when Annie was just a girl—thought she was pretending. She was eight years old, very young at the time when I first noticed how different she was.”
“Even if she does have this unusual ability, you can’t deny the fact your daughter’s a beautiful woman and should have found someone to marry by now.”
“She is that, for certain. I’d love for her to marry and give me grandchildren, but no one’s asked her yet. Maybe someday someone will. Jed Porter, a rancher nearby, has made overtures of late. She isn’t all that old. Just twenty-two.”
Cane thought twenty-two was plenty old enough to marry. Heck, he knew women who’d married at fourteen. “Well then, claiming Mark may help your daughter see that she should get married and start her own family. I suspect Mark fills that void in her life right now.”
“You’re right about that.” Callahan rose and stretched out his hand. “Are we in agreement then that we’ll ease Mark and Annie into these changes?”
Cane stood and took the older man’s hand. “Agreed. It’s October now, so I’d like to have Mark with me by Christmas, in our own place.”
“Then you’d better start looking at some property while you’re staying here. I suspect you’ll want to find a place with a house on it since you won’t have time to build one.”
“That’s right.”
Callahan opened a desk drawer and pulled out a folded newspaper. “Here’s the Bozeman Herald. It comes out three times a week. Folks list their properties for sale. Go ahead and check out some of these places.”
“Thanks, Callahan.”
“Thank you, Cane, for giving our family the time we need to adjust.”
