Blackstone's Bride

by Teresa Southwick

  There was a squeal of delight from the hall right outside the kitchen. Katie ran into the room and threw herself into Jarrod’s arms. “Thank you, Uncle Jarrod.”

  He picked her up and put her on his lap. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “You mean what birds do when they’re flying over—”

  “No. It means listening to what people are saying when they don’t know you’re there.”

  She studied him solemnly, as if she thought he was cross with her. But Abby could see the glint of humor in his gray eyes and bit her lip to stifle her own laughter.

  “Yes, sir. I did listen to what you and Abby were sayin’. Are you mad, Uncle Jarrod? Does that mean we can’t go like you said?”

  “No. We’re going to Hollister for the Independence Day festivities.”

  She frowned. “Don’t know exactly what that is, but I hope it means fireworks.”

  “That’s exactly what it means. Now, you can go upstairs and tell your sister. Maybe that will perk her up.” Jarrod set her on the floor.

  “I s’pect so. If she gets to see that fine-looking Joe Schafer.” Katie made a face at that idea, just before she ran out of the room.

  This time Abby listened and heard the little girl’s footsteps going up the stairs.

  She smiled at Jarrod. “You just made two girls very happy.”

  His gaze met hers and the humor vanished. A dark, intense expression replaced the tender one he had used on Katie. “What about you, Abby? Are you happy? Did you want to go to town?” He lifted her braid, rubbing the red strands at the end between his fingers. “Firecracker,” he whispered. “I’ll bet you like fireworks as much as Katie.”

  She suddenly felt warm all over and wanted to be anywhere else but here, a whisper away from Jarrod Blackstone. She forced herself to stay put and look him straight in the eye.

  “I love the Fourth of July. It’s even better than Christmas.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Why’s that?”

  She thought about it for a minute before answering. “Because I’m never disappointed.”

  He dropped her braid and brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheek, making her stomach flutter. “I think you understand the children because you’re just like them.”

  “I’m a grown woman.”

  “That you are. But just like them, you grew up without expecting fun.”

  “Until now. I mean the children,” she said, feeling the heat rise to her face. Good Lord, she hoped he didn’t think she had meant she was looking for grownup womanly sort of fun with him. Because she wasn’t. “I mean now that they’re here, I expect you’ll see that they have fun.”

  “I know what you meant. And I thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked, puzzled.

  “You put a lot of faith in me even though I don’t deserve it.”

  Abby wondered at the shadows she saw in his eyes, but didn’t ask. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. He had already earned her respect by giving the children a home. Faith? Phooey. He couldn’t help being the man he was. “Why did you have breakfast with the children this morning?” she asked, and hoped, for her own sake, that it wasn’t going to be a regular occurrence.

  “One of the first things you said to me was that I should spend time with them. Have you changed your mind about that?”

  “Of course not.” Only now that the children were in her care, it meant he’d be spending time with her too. Stupidly, she hadn’t counted on that when she agreed to be his housekeeper. She had only thought about how tired he looked and that he needed help with the children. Besides the fact that he’d made her a generous offer that would assure Clint’s future. “I was just curious.”

  “Gib and I are repairing the barn roof, and I didn’t have to ride out at the crack of dawn. I decided it would be a good time to see how the kids are doing with you.”

  “Are you satisfied?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you to think all that money you’re paying me is a waste.”

  He frowned. Why should that bother him? she wondered. She was his employee. That’s all she ever would be.

  She stood up. “I’d better clean up these dishes. Will you give me a half hour, then send Tom and Oliver in for lessons?”

  “Consider it done.”

  Sitting behind the desk in his study, Jarrod put his pen down and rubbed his tired eyes. It had been a long day, even though he’d stayed for breakfast with the kids that morning. Working on the barn roof wasn’t his favorite chore, just a necessary one. Still, he’d rather be using a hammer outdoors than adding up figures in the ledger.

  In the living room, Abby was reading to the children before bedtime. She had borrowed books from Bea Peters to bring to the ranch with her, and felt this nightly ritual was an important part of their education. Her pleasant voice was frequently interrupted by laughter. He gazed longingly at the door, then sighed and picked up his pen again, forcing himself to ignore the temptation to join them, and instead focused on the columns in front of him.

  Another peal of merriment and high-pitched squealing drifted to him, drawing his gaze to the door again. He tossed his pen down and stood up, then left the room and followed the sound.

  In the living room, Abby sat in the wing-back chair by the fireplace, with Oliver in her lap. Katie stood beside her and gazed at the book. Lily, cross-legged on the hearth, stared dreamily into space as Abby read. Tom sprawled in the middle of the floor with his back to everyone. Lighted wall sconces brightened every corner of the room. No one noticed Jarrod standing there.

  Oliver pulled his thumb out of his mouth and pointed to the book. “His name is Oliver too, and he’s an orphan just like me ‘n’ Tom, ‘n’ Lily, ‘n’ Katie.”

  Abby closed the book, keeping a finger in it to mark her place. “Do you know what an orphan is, Oliver?” There was a softness in her voice.

  He nodded. “A kid with no folks.”

  “That’s true. But you’re not alone like Oliver Twist.”

  “He went with the pickpockets.”

  “Because he had nowhere else to go. You have folks, sweetie. A family to love you. Your uncle Jarrod—”

  “And Gib and Dusty and Slim,” Katie added.

  “And Abby,” Oliver chimed in.

  “That’s right,” she said.

  Jarrod heard the hesitation in the words. She wasn’t staying, and didn’t want them to become too dependent on her. Too late for that. It felt right to have her here. He had to admit the kids had been smart to hold out for Abby.

  But she’d made it clear the situation was temporary. When Abby left, it would be hard. Harder than he wanted to think about. But they would go on the best they could.

  “What’s a pickpocket, Abby?” Oliver asked.

  Jarrod walked farther into the room. “It’s a person who steals things out of people’s pockets.”

  Everyone called out greetings to him. When Abby smiled her approval at his arrival, he couldn’t help returning it.

  “I don’t see how someone could lift something out of my pocket without me knowing,” Lily said.

  “It’s definitely a skill that requires practice,” Abby commented, brushing Oliver’s blond hair off his forehead. Meeting Jarrod’s gaze, she put her arms around the little boy almost as if she was using him for a shield.

  Against what? Jarrod thought. Him? That was silly.

  Jarrod looked around at the children. “Why don’t you try? See if you can do it without getting caught.”

  Abby grinned. “That sounds like fun. I have something in my pocket that you might like to pick. What do you think? Anyone want to try?”

  No one answered.

  “Let’s see what Oliver Twist had to learn.” Jarrod walked over to Tom, who had turned around as soon as he’d heard his uncle’s voice. Pleased by Abby’s approval, he decided to pursue a game of pickpocket. He was becoming more comfortable with the kids, and the
way they had just welcomed him to their midst, he guessed they felt that way too. After ruffling Tom’s hair, Jarrod said, “Let’s see if you can be the Artful Dodger.”

  “Have you read the book?” Abby asked him. She sounded surprised.

  He shook his head. “I’ve been listening to you read.”

  A becoming pink crept into her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we were disturbing you. We can go upstairs—”

  “Didn’t say you bothered me. I enjoyed hearing the story. Let’s see if these young ‘uns have been listening. C’mon, Tom. Up and at ‘em,” he said, holding his hand out to the boy.

  Tom grinned and grabbed it.

  “I wanna be his mark,” Katie said, jumping up and down. Jarrod grinned at her. “I see you’ve been listening. But Abby already said she’s got something in her pocket worth picking. Let’s see if he has a knack for being a criminal.”

  “Aw forget it,” Tom said. “I bet she ain’t got nothin’ good.”

  “How do you know?” Abby said, trying to hide the hurt his words had caused.

  He didn’t think the children saw, but Jarrod wasn’t so easily fooled. And he wouldn’t let Tom off the hook in a hurry.

  “She’s right, Tom. How do you know? Take a chance.”

  “I’ll try, Uncle Jarrod,” Oliver said, squirming out of Abby’s lap and scampering up to his uncle. “If Tom doesn’t wanna do it, I will.”

  “I’ll do it.” Tom snorted. “You’d get caught for sure, baby.”

  “I’m not a baby,” the little boy said, his voice rising.

  “Of course you’re not, Oliver,” Abby soothed. “Tom knows it’s not true. He just likes to call you that because he’s the oldest boy.”

  Tom snorted again, but didn’t say anything.

  Abby stood up and walked around the room, whistling as if she was strolling Main Street in Hollister browsing and glancing in store windows. Jarrod angled his head in her direction, indicating Tom should make his move. The boy frowned, looking indecisive, but finally moved into step behind her. He stalked for a few moments, then reached a hand into the pocket of her green cotton skirt. When he latched onto something and tried to pull it out, it got stuck in the folds of her skirt.

  Abby grabbed his wrist. “Gotcha.”

  “No fair,” he said. “You knew I was there.”

  She looked at Jarrod. “He’s right. I think he should get the licorice whip anyway.”

  The boy’s gray eyes grew round. “That’s what it is?”

  “Yes,” she said, pulling out several. “I have one for everybody. It was supposed to be a surprise before bedtime.”

  “Don’t want none,” Tom said.

  “Any,” Abby corrected as she handed the candy out to the others.

  “Can I have Tom’s?” Oliver asked.

  “May I,” Abby said. “And if Tom truly doesn’t want any, yes, you may have his.”

  When Tom shook his head and turned away from her, Oliver took both eagerly, stuffing one in his mouth and the other in his pocket.

  Katie took her treat and ran over to Jarrod. “It’s your turn, Uncle Jarrod.”

  “My turn?”

  “To play pickpocket.”

  “But Abby just handed out treats. She doesn’t have anything for me.”

  “How do you know? You have to pick her pocket and find out. You have to play Dodger so we know if you’ve been listening.”

  He glanced at Abby. “I’m game if you are.”

  She looked like she’d rather walk barefoot through fire. “I think it’s time the children were in bed,” she said.

  “But it’s still early, Abby,” Katie complained.

  “Will you tuck me in?” Oliver asked, yawning.

  “Of course, sweetie,” she answered. “Lily, you too.”

  “But I’m too old to go to bed the same time they do.”

  Abby shooed the two youngest to the bottom of the stairs. “You don’t have go to sleep. Read if you want to. But you need to rest.”

  “Oh, all right,” Lily said, stomping through the room. “Good night, Uncle Jarrod.” She stopped to kiss his cheek.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said. He moved beside Abby and watched until the three disappeared from sight, shaking his head in wonder at how easily she handled them.

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes to check on you.” Abby turned from watching the others go up. “Tom? You too. It’s getting late.”

  “You got no right to tell me what to do,” he said angrily.

  “Tom,” Jarrod said, a warning in his voice.

  Abby put her hand on his arm. “I’ve got to deal with him,” she said.

  She was right. Jarrod knew he couldn’t be there all the time. He would have to trust her to take care of whatever came up with the kids in his absence.

  She moved to where the boy sat on the sofa, dangling his legs. Lowering herself beside him, she said, “Tom, I said it’s time for bed. I expect you to complain a lot like the others, then do as I ask.”

  “You’re not my ma. Ya got no call to tell me what to do.” He glared at her, his arms folded over his chest.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah? You’re just hired on, like Gib and Dusty and Slim. That’s all you are. The others might need you to tell ‘em what t’do, but I don’t. Don’t need nobody.”

  “Anybody,” she corrected. “You probably could survive without me, but your uncle wants better than that for you. You’re right about one thing, he is paying me. To see that you’re taken care of. That means you’ll do as I see fit.”

  “You can’t make me,” he shouted.

  “Wrong again,” she said, taking his arm. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

  “You can’t make me,” he said again, but there was less confidence in his voice this time as he looked up to meet her gaze.

  Her eyes narrowed on him as she tightened her grip. “You’ve been wrong twice now. Care to try for three?” she asked, pulling him to his feet as she stood.

  For several tense moments he glared at her, judging if she could really carry out her threat. Finally, he yanked his arm away. “Good night, Uncle Jarrod,” he mumbled as he passed him on his way to the stairway.

  Jarrod truly admired the way she dealt with the children, using just the right amount of toughness and tenderness. What would he do without her?

  “‘Night, Tom.” Jarrod let out a long breath when he was gone. “Could you have done it? Taken him upstairs, I mean.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t have to find out. He’s put on some bulk since he got here.”

  “I have a feeling you’d have managed it somehow.”

  “I’d have given it my best shot.” Frowning, she glanced at the stairway. “There’s an anger in him I don’t understand, Jarrod.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “I know. He’s fine with me and the other men. We’ve all become real fond of him. But the way he is with you—It’s a puzzle. The other kids seem okay.”

  “They are. As far as I can tell. I expected that things would be slower with Tom, but he seems to be getting more hostile, and I don’t know why.” She sighed.

  “He’s growing up too. Like Lily. Maybe this is just his way.”

  Frowning, she shook her head. “At least I’m still taller than he is. Not for long, though. I remember when Clint started sprouting, when he was just a little older than Tom. Couldn’t keep him in pants, at least ones that weren’t high water.”

  “You raised him by yourself, didn’t you?”

  “After our mother died.”

  “So I was right this morning when I said you understood the kids because you hadn’t had much fun.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Can’t miss what you never had.” She shrugged. “I’ll go tuck them in and hear prayers.”

  Long after she’d gone, Jarrod thought about her. He wondered again how he’d managed without her. And he wasn’t just thinking of the children. Every d
ay that passed with her under his roof made it harder to keep his hands off her. Still, he knew she didn’t want his tender feelings. So he turned his musing in a different direction.

  It didn’t take much for him to figure out that Abby Miller’s life had been filled with responsibility and not much else. Maybe that’s why she was so determined to fulfill her promise to get Clint through school, then take off after her father. Trying to get back what she’d lost.

  He couldn’t fault her, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He paused, his eyes narrowed in thought.

  An idea struck him, and took hold.

  11

  Two weeks later Jarrod had breakfast with them again. This time Abby knew about it ahead of time since she was in on the surprise planned for Tom’s birthday. After eating, Abby and Jarrod followed the children, who had raced to the barn, where Jarrod had sent them. It was the middle of June, and she savored the warmth and the clear blue sky overhead. This was her favorite kind of day.

  “Do you think he suspects anything?” Jarrod asked her.

  “Not that I can tell. But he doesn’t show what he’s feeling much.”

  “I noticed. Maybe this will help.”

  Abby increased her pace, anxious to see the boy’s face. “I can’t wait. Hurry, Jarrod.”

  “I’m practically running now,” he said, laughter in his voice.

  Abby wasn’t sure who would enjoy this more, Jarrod or Tom.

  After entering the barn, it took several moments for her eyes to adjust after the brightness outside. Standing just inside the door in a shaft of sunlight, Abby smelled the pungent odors of hay and horses. She heard the children as they patted the necks of the stabled animals.

  Katie ran up to them. “Why are we here, Uncle Jarrod?”

  “Gather ‘round, everyone,” he said. After they did, he cleared his throat. “Today is Tom’s twelfth birthday.”

  Lily gasped. “Oh, Tom, I forgot. Happy birthday.”

  Everyone extended good wishes as Tom stuck his hands in his pockets and poked at the straw on the floor with the toe of his shoe. Abby swore his neck turned red, but dim as it was and with his head down, she couldn’t tell if the color rose to his cheeks.