Instant Prairie Family (Love Inspired Historical)

by Navarro, Bonnie

  Now he looked back and wondered if there had been some other way to avoid hurting each other. She never adapted to the prairie. He never gave in to her demands to move back. At some point, he stopped trying to make her happy. At first, he tried to be a good husband, providing for her needs, helping with the children, but she always found something to complain about.

  He didn’t regret his boys, however. They were the only good thing that came out of his rushed marriage. They were his inspiration to make the farm a success. Someday they would inherit all that his hands had labored to build. With God’s blessings, he wanted to leave them a legacy—something they could in turn pass down to their children. Jake would also be part of the inheritance. His father and mother’s dreams had brought them out West to begin with. Will vowed to leave Jake the legacy that Mathew once dreamed of giving his son.

  Sighing, he decided to turn the night, his efforts and the coming days over to the Lord. He just wished God would let him know what to do about Miss Stewart.

  Just the night before, he’d known that the men in the area would be interested in his housekeeper, and now he was even more certain. She was pretty and soft-spoken, and if dinner had been any indication, she could cook. Both boys were already quite taken with her, and poor Jake hadn’t been able to string two coherent words together at the table. Out here, the lack of eligible women meant that even women long in the tooth or dull-witted were courted by many eligible bachelors. Miss Stewart would cause a stampede. Exactly what Will wanted to avoid, for the sake of his own peace of mind, and Miss Stewart’s well-being.

  He regretted having stopped at the Scotts’ homestead earlier in the day, too. Since this coming Sunday was only the second of the month, they still had two more weeks before there’d be another service, and news would spread. Hopefully by then, he would have some idea as to what to do for Miss Stewart. After all, her pastor had written a letter putting her care and well-being in his hands. He would see to her safety and provisions—and it wouldn’t be too hard to do if the fringe benefits were meals like the one they had had earlier. But he wouldn’t let himself get too attached. Once she realized what life on the prairie really meant, Miss Stewart wouldn’t be staying long—he was certain of that.

  * * *

  The first twinges of pink and orange were streaking the sky to the east when Abby groaned, stretched and struggled out of bed. She had slept well for the first night since leaving Emma’s house. Seeing the sun pushing up into the sky, she quickly dressed and brushed her hair.

  Today she would take inventory of the house. She needed to scrub every single floor, wall and ceiling before she would be satisfied, but she also needed to see about clothing for the boys, do the washing, clean out the pantry... The list went on and on and Mr. Hopkins never did really tell her if he planned for her to stay or if he was set on taking her back into town next week. He had said she could stay until the harvest, but that was when he’d thought she’d be staying with the Scotts. Did the deal still hold true? She shook off her fears. There was no point in wondering about it. Until he told her otherwise, she was still employed as a housekeeper. Her first job was to determine what the most pressing need was and concentrate on it.

  Lighting the fire in the stove was actually easier than on Emma’s stove. She put water on to boil and then started to look through the pantry. The milk from last night had been kept in a jar and placed in the root cellar under the stairs, so she went down and found it. She wondered if there were fresh eggs.

  Heading back upstairs, she heard the kitchen door squeak and paused for a second. Surely it must be Mr. Hopkins, but there was no other noise, as if someone was sneaking in. Fear for the boys’ safety sent her rushing back up the stairs, a milk jug clenched in her fist as her weapon.

  “Miss Stewart?” The whispering voice was deep and sent her heart into her throat as she reached the kitchen.

  “Mr. Hopkins?” she squeaked out, as if anyone else would know she was here, much less come into the kitchen unannounced at this time of the day.

  He stood at the doorway into the main house but spun around as she answered. His grin confirmed he realized how silly her question was. It also confirmed her suspicion that he was a handsome man when he smiled. “Good morning, Miss Stewart. Did you rest well?”

  “Yes, sir. Did you?” she asked as she set the milk on the counter, commanding her heart to stop beating so loudly. She was afraid the noise would wake the boys.

  “I rested very well, thank you.” His tone was light and friendly. “Is there something you need?”

  “I didn’t know if I needed to gather the eggs. Do you need me to go and milk the cows first thing in the morning? Do the boys get up on their own or do you wake them at a particular time?”

  He looked at her strangely. “Miss Stewart, do you know how to milk a cow?”

  “No, sir. But I learn quickly,” she assured him, afraid he would think about taking her back to the train

  station.

  “Well, it’s just as well. I’ll do the milking if that’s all right with you. My cows are my girls and they are very stingy with anyone else. As for the hens, I’ll take you out to the henhouse and show you around in a little bit. This morning, however, I brought the eggs and milk.” To prove the statement, he backtracked out the door, bent down and reemerged with a pail of milk and a basket of eggs.

  “Thank you. Is there something special you would like to eat this morning?” Abby asked, hoping to get off on the right foot.

  “Anything other than burnt oatmeal would be ambrosia.”

  “Ambrosia! I had thought that we’d try for something simple like pancakes and bacon. I’m not sure that I can come up with ambrosia,” she teased, knowing that if the pots from the day before were a hint to the breakfasts that were the normal fare at the kitchen table, her mother’s light, fluffy pancake recipe would be well received.

  The boys and Jake were drawn like flies to the kitchen as soon as she started frying bacon. By the time they washed and dressed, she had a stack of pancakes she figured would hold them for the time being. Instead of eating with the rest, she stood at the stove and continued to flip pancakes, keeping a steady flow coming until everyone had eaten their fill. Jake and the boys made quite a few comments about burnt oatmeal and other cooking failures. Mr. Hopkins took the ribbing in stride and didn’t seem at all put out with the boys or his nephew. The easy teasing was refreshing after all the tense meals at her brother-in-law’s table.

  As soon as the boys and Jake headed out to the barn, the kitchen became silent. The dirty dishes were stacked once again in the sink, but this time Mr. Hopkins remained seated, sipping his coffee as he watched her take the griddle off the stove. “You haven’t eaten anything yet,” he commented, bringing her attention away from the dishwater.

  “Um...” A plate sat on the back of the stove for her as soon as she finished the dishes.

  “Have a seat. Eat while they’re still warm. Then you can wash everything at once. They were very good, by the way. Ambrosia.” He smiled, standing to pull out a chair for her.

  “Thank you.” She acknowledged his compliment but still felt a little shy as she set her plate on the table, sprinkled sugar over the pile and then returned to the stove for her own cup of coffee. “Would you like some more?” She waved the coffeepot toward him. At his nod, she filled his cup back up before taking her seat again. He returned to his own and sat watching her eat. After a minute he shifted.

  “Right after breakfast we usually take the boys with us to the barn and have them sorta help with chores. They’re not big enough to handle a shovel and muck out the stalls, so we have them curry the horses while Jake and I do the heavy work. It keeps them occupied and within sight. Now with you here, we can start leaving them in the house, but it means you’ll have them underfoot in here. Or would you rather we make them do their chores while you do whatever you need t
o do in the morning?”

  “I’d never presume to tell you what to do, Mr. Hopkins. I am more than willing to care for them the entire day and find ways to get my work done with them ‘underfoot’ as you say. I also know they need to learn lessons you can teach them in the barn and in the fields. Things I have no knowledge about. I’ll leave the decisions to you. Just let me know what you decide.”

  “Fine,” he agreed with a nod of his head. “Then we’ll plan on them coming out to help with barn chores right after breakfast. Then they can come back in and you can give them something to work on, whatever works well with your plans. Since you’re new to the farm, I’d like to tell you what the boys can and can’t do.” He paused, waiting for her to acknowledge him, but she had a mouthful of pancake so all she could do was nod. His eyes twinkled and she wondered fleetingly if he had done that on purpose to fluster her.

  “They are not allowed to play in the barn or barnyard without an adult with them at all times. Little boys tend to move quickly and could spook a cow or horse. An animal’s natural reaction would be to kick and that could easily kill a man, let alone a boy. The boys are also not allowed to venture down by the creek or out to the fields on their own. They love to fish and when it gets too hot, we even take them swimming but—” he glanced at her over the coffee cup as he paused to take a sip, his cheeks turning slightly pink “—I don’t expect you to have to take them into the water.”

  The idea of watching the boys fish had a certain appeal as long as they could bait their own hooks. She had never learned to swim, nor did she plan on learning. She would leave the swimming lessons to Mr. Hopkins.

  “That sounds reasonable,” she said.

  “It’s not only the animals themselves that pose a threat to the boys. The equipment in the barn is also heavy and some have sharp edges like the saws and the axes. They are not to touch my tools unless I am with them. If you need wood chopped or something fixed, please let me know, and I’ll get things shipshape.”

  Again she nodded, the last bite of pancake melting in her mouth. She looked down, chagrined that she had eaten it all. She didn’t remember tasting it. Her lukewarm coffee washed the rest of the pancake down and she found Mr. Hopkins’s eyes studying her once again.

  He had a way of doing that. It made her feel as if he was trying to see into her soul. As if he could really see if she was being truthful or just accommodating. Honestly, she would find it hard to deny him reasonable requests. She was starting to believe again that she had been right to think that God had brought her here. When she’d learned that her Mrs. Hopkins was a Mr. Hopkins, she’d started to doubt, to question. But now certainty filled her again. Maybe because the boys pulled on her heartstrings.

  It was not that Mr. Hopkins neglected his boys. On the contrary, it was clear that he tried so hard to do everything and he genuinely loved them, but he had no help. Things like table manners, housekeeping and book learning had been forgotten in the attempt to keep the farm running. She wanted to help the boys, teach them what she could and fill them with love and all the mothering they had missed out on these last few years. But what if she were only here for a few weeks or months? Would her presence be missed when she left? Would it be better to keep a distance from the beginning?

  No, she couldn’t do that. If it was not in God’s plan for her to stay, then she’d resign herself to the change later. For now she knew that this was where she belonged, and she’d make the most of it for as long as she could.

  “Do you have any questions, Miss Stewart?” he quizzed.

  “Well, is there something you want me to work on today? I mean, there are a lot of tasks needing attention.” She paused, trying to find a delicate way to say things. “But I was wondering if you have one thing that stands out as more urgent.”

  “No, ma’am. As you can see, we have been very remiss in our chores around the house, so there is more work to do than I think you’ll be able to do in three years.” A slight blush colored his ears. “It didn’t get this way overnight, and with the boys always underfoot, you may not have as much time as you are used to for tidying up and such. Whatever it is you decide to do, take your time. Just see to it that you don’t wear yourself completely out. And if you need anything, you just let us know. It would be nice to have a noon meal right about midday and the dinner ready close to six in the evening. Other than that...you women seem to know better than I do what’s what.”

  “I do have another question. Do the boys know where to find the washtub and the soap? Do they know where to find the dirty clothes? Where do you put the clothes that you need mended?”

  This time a full-blown smile filled his face, transforming him into a handsome man, looking years younger than he had looked at the train station two days before. “Miss Stewart, that sure sounded like three questions to me.” He chuckled good-naturedly and before she could come up with some sort of response, he continued. “Now, this is a farm where no woman has dared invade in more than two years. If it still stays together on its own, we wear it. Once it falls apart, we discard it. I’ve never learned to thread one of those itsy-bitsy needles, much less pull one through some shirt that’s just gonna get mistreated again.”

  “I see your point. You may find that I try and change some of those habits in the days to come. Please let me know if I overstep my bounds.” Abby kept from smiling, but she was sure the glint in Mr. Hopkins’s eyes matched her own. Glancing around the room, still dirty and gritty everywhere but the sink and countertop where she had cleaned yesterday, she wondered if she had bitten off more than she would be able to chew. The only way to find out was one bite at a time, starting with the breakfast dishes.

  “I’ll be sure to do that, ma’am.”

  “Huh?” She turned back to him from her perusal of the room, already mentally planning what she would do first.

  “I’ll be sure to let you know if you overstep your bounds.” He smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat. “And, yes, the boys know where the soap is kept. The washtub is hanging in the pantry and another in the barn if you need it. Are you planning to wash clothes today?” he questioned softly.

  “If it’s all right with you, sir,” she answered just as softly.

  “That’d be fine. I’ll just go and start the fire in the yard for you, then. I’ll also get the water hauled out there.”

  “Thank you.” Thinking their conversation was done, she stood and she noticed he stood as well, whether to get to work or out of respect, she wasn’t sure.

  “Um.”

  His hesitance brought her attention back to him from the dishes she had started to place in the dishwater.

  “Breakfast was very good. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. I love seeing the boys enjoy their food,” she confessed, not mentioning that watching the men devour the food had left her just as satisfied.

  “Well, it is nice to have someone who knows what they’re doing in the kitchen for once.” He chuckled as he left the room. Only after the door shut behind him did Abby dare to look back over her shoulder. Through the window she watched his strong, tall form quickly cross the distance and then disappear into the barn.

  Chapter Five

  “Okay, boys, it’s about time to go and check on the laundry,” Abby called out to the boys playing in the front room.

  She had washed all the clothes yesterday and then worked on washing the kitchen cabinets. Today she had tackled the bedding. The sheets and covers from all four beds upstairs were hanging on the lines in the yard and she had swept the rooms out, including the cobwebs from the corners and the ceilings. Her arms ached, but she was happy with the way things were staring to look—a little more civilized. Given another few weeks, she would have the place clean.

  She stepped out of the kitchen and caught Tommy with a hand up under his shirt, scratching again. She had washed that shirt yesterday. Had c
higgers or fleas gotten into the wash while it dried yesterday? Her own clothes felt fine. “Come on, boys. Come help me get the sheets for your beds.”

  They left the city of blocks they were constructing on the floor without complaint but without much enthusiasm, either. As Willy passed her, he scratched his belly, too. Tonight she would insist on a bath for both boys.

  Outside, she inspected the bedding and, not finding anything crawling around on it, she carefully took each item down, folded it and placed it in the basket she had found in the pantry. The boys had been subdued the majority of the morning. She wondered if they were already tired of spending their days indoors with her instead of out, playing and working with their father and cousin. It was a depressing thought. She had hoped to become fast friends with them, but chances of that were slim if they were already missing life before her arrival.

  With the possibility of little critters on their bodies, Abby opted to leave them playing with their blocks while she wrestled the bedding back on the feather-stuffed mattresses. Making Mr. Hopkins’s bed, she let her eyes wander, learning about her employer. Mr. Hopkins had a number of books in his room, stacked on his small nightstand next to the large bed. He had taken his pillow out with him to the barn but had left the rest behind. His clothes had been hung on their pegs on the wall, and his two other pairs of trousers were folded and stacked on the side table under a window. The other piece of furniture in the room was an elaborate dressing table Abby assumed to have been the late Mrs. Hopkins’s. Although her things were hidden inside the drawers and a layer of dust sat heavily on everything, it was as if her presence was still in the room.