“Come Friday night, please. Not too late, so the dark doesn’t catch us out riding.”
Well, the woman had beaten him to the asking again. It didn’t suit him a bit, but at least he’d be getting it over with soon, except. . . “Uh. . .can we wait a little longer?” He had to be sure Josh was well. Like maybe a year or two?
“How about a week from Friday then?”
Grant couldn’t think of a single excuse. He wasn’t prepared. If he’d known this was coming, he’d have practiced excuses. But who could predict a thing like this? His shoulders slumped. “A week from Friday sounds fine. I’ll be here. . .before the supper hour. We’ll take a short ride, but I want to get home to my young’uns for the evening meal. Don’t want them alone at night.”
Her smile hardened again. It was a purely frightening expression. But most things about women frightened Grant, so he didn’t know if he could trust his reaction.
“Fine. I’ll see you next Friday then.” She closed the door with a sharp click that didn’t sound near as friendly as her words.
Grant turned and almost ran to his wagon. Women were a mystery to him, and he’d had two mysteries fetched down on him in a single morning. Then he saw Mabel, still wiping hands that had to be bone dry by now, and she gave him a smug smile that he had no idea what it meant.
Three mysteries.
He leapt to the wagon seat. Tossing the brake free with a thump of wood and iron, he yelled.
The horses cooperated nicely and took off as if Shirt Lady chased them, flying on her broomstick.
Finally, Grant found someone who understood him—his horses.
“Why couldn’t you get him in here?” Horace emerged from the back room.
“All you’d have needed to do was get the door closed then rip your dress and start screaming loud enough to draw a crowd. He’d have been forced to marry you and the land would be ours.”
Prudence scowled at the filthy man. “He’s coming by next Friday night. We’ll finish this then. I think you should be here to knock him in the head. Then after he’s been in here a good long time and comes around, I can act out the whole scene. As soon as he’s conscious, I’ll get the preacher in here breathing fire and brimstone, and he’ll force the marriage.”
Prudence went and made sure the window curtains were drawn shut. “I know just how to do it, too. I was hiding behind the school, waiting for my chance to get Grant in here, and I watched in the window at that crowd who came to toss Grant’s kids out of school. Those folks will believe the worst of him because he’s an orphan.”
“People are always suspicious of orphans.” Horace headed for the back room. “I remember how we got treated, like we was dirt. Trash under their feet. We deserve some payback for growin’ up that way.”
Purdence’s temper flared, and there was only one person handy to take it out on. “Why’d you sleep so late? Now you can’t get out to the dig all day because someone might see you.” Prudence noticed Horace’s steps falter. “What? You’re hiding something.”
Horace turned slowly, his eyes narrow and shifting.
Prudence braced for him to solve this with fists.
“I went to LaMont and didn’t get back until late last night. I overslept.”
“I know and spent half of what we should have made in the saloon.” Prudence jammed her fists on her hips and felt the thrill of daring him to shut her mouth.
He stalked toward her. “There’s more. Monday morning early, one of those riffraff kids from the Rocking C came on me. I had to shut his mouth for good.”
“You killed him?” Prudence’s mouth watered. She loved a man strong enough to take what he wanted. Horace was the strongest man Prudence had ever known.
“Yep. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it in town.”
“There was a fuss yesterday. I heard Grant’s son fell. I reckon that’s what it was about. It must not have bothered anyone too bad. Things were normal with Grant and his get this morning.” Prudence walked back to the window and peeked through the burlap curtains to stare at the school building.
“No one’s gonna make much ruckus about one dead orphan.” Horace came up and shouldered her aside. “And he was one’a them black-skinned ones, too. No loss all the way around.”
“Stay back from the window!” Prudence shoved his hand away from the curtain.
Horace wheeled and grabbed the front of her dress in one fist and shoved her against the wall so hard the shop shook.
Her head slammed against wood. She saw stars.
“I’ll go where I want to go.”
Her knees buckled, but he held her up.
“Do what I want to do.” Horace clamped one massive stinking hand around her throat. “And you’ll keep your mouth shut about it.” With a vicious laugh, his yellow teeth broken and bared, he tightened his stranglehold. “You hear me, Prudence?”
“Yes.” She could barely whisper.
“Good girl.” He kissed her.
When she kissed him back, he let her breathe.
TWENTY
Grant forked fresh clean straw into the last horse stall, tossing around ideas and horse bedding with equal abandon.
He’d always taken the kids out of school for their own good. Only now, when there was no reason to take them out, Grant realized how much he liked having them around. Joshua was here, but right now the boy was sleeping, and he was a quick healer. He’d be in school in a couple of days. Grant hadn’t been alone like this since those painful few months after his pa and ma died.
He hated it!
He worked hard just like always, but now, all day long, he heard no childish chatter from Benny, no thoughtful questions from Joshua. Marilyn never called out that the noon meal was ready. Sadie never giggled and whispered secrets to her sisters. He even missed Charlie, and the boy had yet to speak a kind word.
With the children here, Grant was always needed for something.
Had he taken his kids out of school on the least excuse all these years because he missed them? That meant Grant had sacrificed his children’s education so he wouldn’t have to be home alone.
Stabbing his pitchfork into the last of the straw, Grant refused to admit it was all his fault. The Brewsters had made it impossible. Breathing a sigh of relief, Grant remembered Festus Brewster. That thug had driven them away. If he’d have been in that posse this morning, there’d have been no going home without his children.
Looking around his tidy barn, Grant saw a few spots that could use attention and attacked them. The hours of the day crept by.
“Pa, what are you doing?”
Grant yelped, so lost in thought he almost jumped out of his skin. He jerked away from his bucket of water and looked at Joshua. Up and around. Grant smiled, so relieved he was speechless. “You look better.”
“Is something wrong?” Joshua moved carefully, but he came on into the barn.
Grant realized what the boy had said the first time. “I’m. . . uh. . . just. . . ” acting like a madman. Grant couldn’t say that because Joshua would ask why and Grant wasn’t about to admit that, if he was a madman, it was Hannah who had driven him crazy.
“I’m cleaning the barn floor is all.”
“Are you planning to sleep out here?”
Good idea. No, bad idea. Grant didn’t want to sleep in the barn. The barn was cold. But good excuse. “Maybe. Thought I’d see how it cleaned up.” So that meant he wasn’t a lunatic for scrubbing the barn floor on his hands and knees. Or at least Josh wouldn’t realize he was one.
“We probably ought to all move out here and move the animals inside.” Joshua grinned. “They have a better house than we do.”
More cheerful now that his son was here, Grant got up from the ridiculous scrubbing. “Dumb idea anyway. I just had some spare time.” Then Grant realized that it wasn’t just Hannah-induced insanity. It was also boredom. That he could admit.
“It’s so quiet around here with the young’uns all in school. I hate it. How can the fat
her of six be so lonely?”
“I was bored, too. That’s what made me come out here.”
“You’re looking good, Josh. Real good. Give yourself time to heal though.” In other words, please don’t go back to school and leave me.
“I think I can go back to school tomorrow.”
Grant kept his smile in place by pure force of will. He didn’t want the boy to stay sick after all. “How about your memory? Do you remember any more about what happened?”
Josh rubbed his head with his good arm, avoiding the spot with the stitches. He favored the arm that’d been knocked out of its socket. But he didn’t have the sling on today, and his eyes seemed clear.
“I can’t remember anything after I set out hunting that cow.” Worry cut creases into Josh’s forehead.
Grant was sorry he’d brought it up.
“I don’t know what happened at all. I can’t believe I fell off that cliff. I’ve been playing on that slope since I first moved here.”
“The doc said it’s normal to lose your memory around an accident. It may never come back.” Grant didn’t want to say the next words, but he felt like he had to warn the boy. “I scouted up that hill. It looks to me. . . ”
Josh’s eyes narrowed when Grant hesitated. He came farther into the barn. “What?”
“I think. . . ” Grant hated saying the words, but the boy had to be warned. “I think you were hit on the head by someone.” It looked to Grant like Josh’s knees wobbled. He stood and rushed toward his son. “Let’s sit down a minute.”
Sheaves of straw, bound tight and set ready to bed the horses, were stacked close at hand. Grant helped Josh ease down on one and took the next one over. A person with black skin wouldn’t go pale, but Grant had a feeling that all of the blood had flowed out of Josh’s head.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” Grant clenched his hands between his knees and stared sideways at his son. “But you and all the young’uns need to be on your guard.”
Josh steadied after he sat down and gave Grant a man-to-man look. “I’d rather know, Pa. We’re all raised rough, except maybe Benny. We can handle bad news and we don’t scare easy. I know I’d rather hear what I’m up against than have trouble sneak up on my flank. Do you have any idea who it was?”
Grant shook his head. “Tracks were wiped clear if there ever were any on that stony ground. The back side of that hill is that stinking spring. We never go anywhere near there and the cattle avoid it. They want no part of that foul, oily water or that black tar seeping out of the ground. I’ve got no idea who it was, but that’s a good overlook for this property.” Grant looked around his ridiculously clean barn. “What have I got anyone would want?”
Josh stared into the distance, thinking. “I’ve heard there’s a way to get lamp oil out of a seep like that. I suppose someone might be sneaking in there to fill a lamp.”
“You can’t fill a lamp with that kind of sulfuric sludge. I know men who have tried it.”
“No, you have to refine it. I read of such a thing in a newspaper once. But I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of a refinery around these parts.”
“Besides, if someone does think they can do it, all they’d need to do is to ask permission, I’d just say they could have it. There’s nothing there to try and kill a man over.”
“If I could just remember what happened!” Josh’s fists clenched together between his splayed knees.
“Don’t fret on it. It’ll only give you a headache. Doc says your memory will either come back or it won’t. Nothing we can do to force it.”
“I know, but it’s frustrating.” Josh shrugged then winced at the shoulder movement.
“You should stay home a good week, Josh.” Grant’s spirits lifted at the thought. But he didn’t want the boy to stay hurting. That was pure evil. Nothing wrong with a little coddling though. Of course the boy was as tall as Grant and took care of himself with adult confidence. But still, a father could fuss over his son.
Grant sighed and said a quick prayer for the boy’s aches and pains to heal. He threw in a plea for forgiveness for the selfish wish to have his family back. And while he was at it, he asked God to take his loneliness away.
Hannah flashed into his thoughts, and Grant quit praying and focused on his son.
“I’ll take things a day at a time. If I’m up to the ride to town tomorrow, I’ll go. Any time I get to hurting, I’ll stop and laze around awhile.” Josh grinned, his smile broad and white against his black skin. “You’re in need of a few more children, I’d say, Pa.”
Grant smiled back even though he saw no humor in it. He did need more children.
Joshua stood slowly, protecting his shoulder, aching head, and tightly wrapped ribs from any sudden moves. “I was lonely in the house, but coming out here was more effort than I expected. I’d better go on back in and rest.”
The instant Josh wasn’t there to witness it, Grant’s smile faded away. Just imagining Josh leaving made Grant’s ears echo with the silence of his barn and his house and his life.
Hannah crept back into his thoughts. Thinking of her made the loneliness a thousand times worse.
Grant tried to think of something more constructive to do, but the barn was pure clean to the bone. The horses were brushed. The stock cattle were fat and healthy. The chickens had given up their day’s supply of eggs and been fed.
Grant sighed and went back to his bucket. A madman scrubbing the barn floor.
Joshua went back to school, and Grant had a new problem.
As much as he missed his kids, he started dreading them coming home, because then, instead of thinking about Hannah to fill the silence, he had to hear about her. They came home full of excitement about their lessons, news about the Easter pageant, and endless tales about how much they adored Miss Cartwright.
Something else to drive him crazy!
To prove he was crazy, he noticed all the cobwebs on the barn ceiling. He started knocking them down—as if spiders didn’t have a right to live outside. But he needed something to do!
Once the spiderwebs were gone, Grant hunted for any spot he couldn’t eat off. He’d already cut a winter’s supply of firewood, splitting it down to toothpick size.
He enjoyed the weekend with his children more than he ever had. They went to church together. Grant noticed Hannah never even looked his way. He’d have liked a chance to apologize for kissing her. But he saw Prudence bearing down on him after services and ran for home.
He worked and played side-by-side with his family all weekend. And then they left again.
He spent the next week working himself to death, moving his longhorns from the high pasture of his rugged ranch to the valley. A five-man job that could have been handled in a half day if he’d waited until Saturday with the children helping. He’d done it by himself.
The meaner and more feisty those half-wild cattle had been, the more Grant liked it, because only when he straddled the line between life and death did he forget about how much he’d enjoyed kissing Hannah.
By midday Wednesday, the winter term of school was near two weeks old, and he could count the hours since he’d put his hands on Hannah. His rough, work-reddened hands wrapped around her slender waist.
He kept thinking about that ride he’d promised Prudence, too—his stupid plan to make Hannah mad enough to never get close to him again. But to make the plan work, he had to survive an evening with that child-hating battleaxe. Shuddering with dread, Grant tried to figure out why he’d thought that was a good idea.
Looking around frantically for something to occupy his mind, there was nothing left outside so he started on the inside. He scrubbed the kitchen floor and baked bread and a couple of pumpkin pies. When the kids got home, the young’uns ran outside to play and do their chores as they always did. No reason for them to spend time in this dinky house if they didn’t have to.
Sadie and Marilyn stayed behind to start supper and saw the baking Grant had done.
&n
bsp; “Don’t you like how we’ve been cooking, Pa?” Marilyn asked, her blue eyes downcast.
“You’ve been doing fine, honey.” A lot better than him.
He looked at the blackened pies. “I just. . . uh. . . had some spare time today. I used to cook a lot, but since I’ve started having grown-up daughters, I haven’t kept my hand in. The bread didn’t rise like it should’ve, and I burnt one of the pies and forgot to add eggs to the other one. I guess that’s why it’s kinda flat-like.”
“Then why’d you do it?” Sadie frowned at him. “I mean, if you have extra time, a lot of parents are coming in to work on the pageant. Easter is early this year, and it’s already the end of January. Maybe Miss Cartwright could find something for you to do.”
Grant flinched at that woman’s name. She seemed to be all the children talked about.
“Almost every other parent has helped, especially the mothers. And since we don’t have a ma, maybe we aren’t doing our share.” Marilyn looked at Sadie. “Shouldn’t he come in and work with Miss Cartwright? Don’t you think that’d make her happy?”
“Does she seem unhappy?” Grant bit his tongue too late to stop the words.
Sadie turned away from the mess he’d made of supper and studied him like he was some kind of bug she’d caught crawling out of the cornmeal. “Does it matter to you if Miss Cartwright is unhappy, Pa? Are you worried about her?”
Marilyn caught the overly interested tone in Sadie’s voice, and the two of them exchanged a quick glance. His daughters, full-grown women and as stubborn as the rest of the female breed, snagged his arms and pulled him onto a bench. They sat down beside him.
“What’s going on, Pa?” Sadie asked, her eyes shining. “Are you sweet on Miss Cartwright?”
Gingham Mountain Page 17
