James sighed. “Better, but not much.”
Ann closed the door, and he extricated himself from the bed as stealthily as possible. Someone rapped on the front door as he came down the stairs. He opened it to find Doc Henderson.
“Morning, James,” the doctor greeted him.
“Morning, Doc. How’s Hal?”
“Fine, fine. Nothing time won’t cure at this point.”
“May I offer you some breakfast?”
“A good cup of coffee would be wonderful.”
James stifled a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Three sets of eyes turned as James and the doctor entered the kitchen. Ann stood at the stove and Sadie sat on Uncle Mac’s lap while she tucked into a plate of eggs.
Ann wiped her hands on her apron and hurried toward them.
“Everything alright?” she whispered, her alabaster forehead creased with worry.
“Doc says Hal’s going to be okay. Would you get him some coffee?”
Ann faltered, and rightly so. Her coffee was like nothing he’d ever tasted. Maybe it had killed all his taste buds because he was actually starting to like it.
“Ann makes a mighty strong cup of coffee, Doc,” he warned.
The doctor took a seat at the table and Ann poured him a cup. James held his breath as the older man sipped.
Doc Henderson smiled.
“Very good, Miss Cromwell. And much needed after last night.”
The doctor was either a tremendous liar or had a taste for strong coffee, quite like the one James was developing.
“Sadie, dear. Please take the basket and fetch more eggs.” Ann shooed the little girl out the door.
The doctor glanced back distractedly as the screen door banged behind Sadie. “I’ll check on Hal one more time before I head back to town. James, may I assume you can keep these children a few more hours?”
“A few more hours!” Ann stood with her hands on her hips. “You’re not suggesting they return to their father today?”
“We’ll bring them on home around suppertime,” James offered.
“Good, good.” The doctor nodded into his cup.
Ann crossed her arms and huffed. Uncle Mac patted her shoulder, and James longed to do the same. His heart ached for both the children and for Ann’s concern, but what could he do? Hal Schneider’s pride wouldn’t allow him to relinquish his children, any more than he could put down the bottle. The doctor slurped two more cups of coffee while Ann stomped about the kitchen, her lips pursed and her cheeks a deep crimson.
When all the coffee was drunk, the doctor pushed away from the table and James walked him to the door.
“Hey, Doc? Can I ask you for a favor?”
“Certainly.”
“Hal keeps a shotgun above his front door. Any chance you could unload it while you’re there?”
The doctor laughed and shook his head.
“You must think I’m fresh out of medical school. I unloaded every gun in the house the second you left. Hid the bullets, too. I told Hal he could have them back when he comes into town to see me.”
“How did that go over?”
“About as you’d expect.”
The doctor paused and rubbed at his thinning hair.
“I understand Miss Cromwell’s concern about the children. But medically speaking, I see no reason why they can’t be returned today.”
James nodded grimly.
“I understand. I imagine he’d want to see them straight away.”
The doctor’s shoulders slouched.
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But he didn’t ask for them this morning. Only for the bottle.”
Disgust shot through James. How could a man love anything more than his own children?
“Is that so?” Despite his best effort, the vitriol in his voice was obvious even to his own ears.
“I mixed a draft to help him sleep off his headache. When he wakes, I imagine he’ll find one of the many bottles he likely has hidden throughout his house. I emptied as many as I could find, but I assure you he has more tucked away somewhere.”
Blood roared in James’s ears. He pictured George and Sadie fending for themselves as their father slept yet another day away.
“Hal Schneider will be drunk again. Drunk for days. The presence of two small children will not make a difference. He will be drunk regardless.”
The doctor spoke slowly and methodically. James understood his meaning immediately.
“When might Hal notice his children are gone?”
“I know the two of you aren’t on the best terms. I’ll stop by Jed Zwebel’s and ask if he can check in on Hal tonight and again in the morning. As soon as he asks after the children, you must send them over directly.”
James thanked the doctor again and returned inside. As he entered the foyer, a blur of blue cotton flew into his arms.
“Thank you, thank you,” Ann murmured into his chest, her arms wrapped tight around his waist. She jumped back quick as a jackrabbit before he could return the embrace, flushed scarlet from her hair to the bodice of her dress.
“I was eavesdropping,” she explained.
James’s heart thudded. The blush of embarrassment only enhanced Ann’s beauty.
“They must return the moment their father asks for them,” James gruffed, though he felt exactly as Ann looked. Excited and relieved at the thought of giving George and Sadie some proper care. Anxious for what the future held for the children.
She clasped her hands in front of her. “What shall we do with them until then?”
“Don’t you have a meeting with Priscilla Vollrath this afternoon?”
Ann clapped a hand to her forehead. “I’d completely forgotten! Will the children be much trouble for you? I can’t ask them to walk all the way to town with me.”
“Now you’ll get to ride. I’m sure George can handle Old Harriet.”
“George? Are you certain?” She raised a brow.
A voice echoed down the front stairs and George’s dark head peered over the railing? “Certain of what?”
“Can you drive a horse and buggy, George?”
The young boy screwed up his mouth, as if the question was the greatest insult of his short life.
“Of course I can! Who can’t?”
And so it was settled.
Chapter Fourteen
Ann’s hands were already sweating. A seven-year-old boy driving a horse and wagon. Though James had insisted it was completely normal—a farm boy is born with the reins in his hands—her heart still thudded.
“What if the horse spooks?” Ann whispered to James. She didn’t want to offend George with her doubts in him.
“Old Harriet is the least spookable horse God put on this earth. She’s stepped over every kind of snake and critter without so much as a whinny.” He cupped his hand around his mouth, as if sharing a secret, and Ann leaned in. “I think she’s a mite blind.”
Ann stifled a laugh. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? To put my life in the hands of a blind horse and a little boy?”
“In the hooves of a blind horse. And I was only kidding. Her eyesight is fine. It’s her hearing that’s going. Come now, I’ll get her hitched.”
Ann smothered another laugh and followed him to the barn, with the children following close behind, both dressed in clean clothes she’d washed before dawn and dried under a hot iron. Despite her name, Old Harriet was still beautiful, with a shiny, lustrous coat that only came from good care. Her steps were steady and careful, as James had said, and she quickly and dutifully followed each of his commands as he hitched her to the wagon.
“She’ll need water when you get there, but George knows that. Don’t you, George?”
George nodded vigorously. The bandage on his forehead stood fast.
“Any questions?”
“Just one.”
James stopped stroking the horse’s nose and gave Ann his full attention. “What is that?”
“Was she ever New Harriet or Young Harriet?”
James chuckled and shook his head. “She was simply Harriet for many years, but as the old girl got older, I began to think of her as Old Harriet. Soon that name was coming out of my mouth.” He turned to the horse and scratched behind her ears. “Have any other questions—Annoying Ann?”
He hadn’t teased Ann in more than a day. She tried very hard to be annoyed rather than pleased at the return.
“No, I don’t...Juvenile James.”
James slapped his leg, and threw back his head with a laugh. He leaned forward again—still laughing—so far that his hat tumbled off his head and into his hands.
She could never pass up an opportunity to make him laugh, as she’d never met anyone who laughed with his whole body as James did. Making him laugh felt like she owned a special key that could unlock his joviality. It made her feel special.
James hoisted Sadie onto the buggy seat, but made a show of standing back so George could pull himself up. Ann moved to mount the buggy, but James grasped her arm and guided her back into the barn, out of earshot of the children.
“I still haven’t properly acknowledged what you did last night, Ann, or apologized for what I did. I left you alone with a gravely ill man. You could have refused. Instead, you saved his life.”
The warmth of his fingers spread to her fingertips. And with each word, his grip drew her closer. “I—I didn’t do anything. It was stupid, really. If I saved his life, it was completely by accident.”
He released her arm and removed his hat so he could run a hand through his mop of hair. She now recognized this motion as a precursor to a nervous speech. “This isn’t only about the life you saved.” He licked his lips. “You were brave. So brave. You entered Hal’s house even though you knew the danger. You never hesitated.”
His hands kneaded at his hat brim. She wanted very much for him to place his hand back around her arm. “I wasn’t brave. I was terrified.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Bravery is facing danger even when you’re scared.”
Ann grasped for words, but her thoughts were jumbled and hazy. Instead, she stared at his hands, going over and over the hat brim. How many times had he touched her? Had there ever been a time her heart hadn’t tripped in response?
Before she could think, he crossed the space between them and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Thank you, Ann,” he murmured against her skin.
He stepped back as quickly as he’d stepped forward, and replaced his hat on his head. “I’d best get to the chores, and you don’t want to keep Priscilla waiting.”
Ann waved at him dumbly and watched as he strode quickly away and toward the nearest field. She’d arrived in America in a gloom of uncertainty. She was now certain of so very many things, but the uncertainty hadn’t lifted.
James McCann was an honest, hardworking, decent man. He cared for others as himself and desired a family more than any man she’d ever met. He would make someone a fine husband.
And I’m certain that someone can never be me.
* * *
On their return trip from town, a handsome buggy turned onto Mud Pike from a side road and the driver drew along beside them. It was Frederick Renner.
“Good afternoon, Miss Cromwell. Hello, George! Hi, Sadie!”
“Hello!” the children chorused.
“What has this trio been up to?” Frederick was dressed much as he had been at their first meeting. Drab, ill-fitting shirt and pants that did little to indicate the wealth she now knew he possessed.
“I had an appointment in town,” Ann replied. “With Priscilla Vollrath.” How to explain the children’s presence? “George and Sadie were kind enough to accompany me. I’ve never driven a buggy.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m afraid not. But George is an excellent driver.”
Frederick nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m certain he is.” George beamed with pride but kept his eyes dutifully forward.
“Are you on your way to see James?” Ann asked.
“I was, but now you can save me the trip. The mill will be running overtime beginning tonight and for the next few weeks. If he can lend a hand, we’re desperate for the help.”
“I’ll let him know.”
He tipped his cap. “Much obliged.”
Frederick expertly turned his buggy around on the narrow road, and headed back toward New Haven.
When they passed the Schneider farm, both children strained for signs of their father, but the house appeared as quiet and neglected as it did every other day. She scowled as she pictured them returning to that filthy house. Returning to the bare cupboards and the grime, their father lying prostrate with a bottle in his hand.
A few minutes more and they were back in the barnyard. James’s sandy head appeared from behind the barn door. Her heart tripped at the sight of him. The memory of his lips on her forehead had replayed over and over these last few hours.
“Mr. McCann!” Sadie’s tiny voice screeched in delight. “We missed you!” She threw herself from the wagon with abandon into James’s waiting arms, fully trusting he would catch her.
“Have a successful trip?” James croaked, his voice strangled by Sadie’s tight grip around his neck. Sadie giggled and loosened her arms but didn’t relinquish her hold.
“Priscilla should be pleased with her dress.”
He smirked. “If she is, it’ll be the first time that girl is pleased with anything.” He paused and ran his free hand through his hair. “That wasn’t an insult to Mrs. Williams—or you. I’m sure it’s a fine dress.”
“I’m used to your teasing, James. I wasn’t offended.”
He ducked his head. “I’ve been trying to keep the teasing in check.”
Please don’t.
“Will you be in soon for supper?”
“Shortly. I need to muck out this stall first.”
Ann led the children to the water pump to wash up and fashioned a game out of empty thread spools at the kitchen table. Once they were occupied, she joined James in the barn. He was spreading fresh-cut hay for the horse when she entered.
“We can’t delay the children’s return home much more than a day, can we?” she asked.
James turned, startled, and struck his head against a low beam. Ann gasped and ran toward him, but he held out a hand to signal he was alright.
“You’re not the only one with a clumsy streak around here. At least I have a little padding.” He pointed to the shock of wavy hair hanging over his brow.
Ann lifted the locks away from the injury, her fingers grazing his forehead. The skin was intact but painted with a rosy red mark that grew darker by the moment. She bit her lip. “It doesn’t look very good.” He winced as her fingertips traced along the mark’s border.
“Comes with the territory.” He reached up and slapped a hand on the offending beam. “My father built this barn, and he was a head shorter than me. Guess he never figured on having a tall son.”
The thought of James’s diminutive father moving back and forth beneath the beam without impediment struck Ann as funny. She laughed, and James stuck out his lower lip in mock offense. Her hand still lingered on his brow. She mussed at his hair to dislodge dust from the day’s work, as if it was always her intention. A cloud of dust motes and hay caught the light. “It’s a good thing the skin didn’t break. You’re filthy.” She darted her hand back to her side.
His lips upturned ever so slightly, and she was filled with the sudden wish for him to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, he
turned and passed Old Harriet one last handful of alfalfa and sweetgrass. “The children have to go home tomorrow. I don’t think we can avoid it much longer than that. If we wait until Jed Zwebel says Hal’s asking for them, Hal will probably have already worked himself into a lather. I’ll take them back after breakfast.”
“What about Hal?”
“Doc said he took all his bullets.”
“Still, I’m coming with you.”
James made no argument, unlike the night before. He simply nodded.
* * *
At supper, everyone marveled over the bountiful spread Delia had been kind enough to send home with them. Ann’s mouth watered at the sight of foods she might have some hope of recreating if her cooking lessons were as successful as Delia seemed certain they’d be.
“You’ll be able to make all of this and more,” she’d promised. But Ann had her doubts. Lattice-topped apple pies were Delia’s specialty. An item that Ann knew, from her examination of cookbooks, required multiple steps and recipes. Multiple opportunities to ruin the final product.
Ann surveyed James as he ate. He closed his eyes after each bite, savoring each morsel. And little wonder—it could be months before he’d eat this well again. When James’s desired match finally arrived.
Her stomach turned and a savory bite of roast beef caught in her throat. She hadn’t wanted to stop by the post office while in town, but not doing so would only delay the inevitable. Her limbs had nearly gone limp in relief when the postmaster announced no mail for James McCann. But one day there would be, and it was all Ann could think about.
The children dived into the offerings with both hands until she shooed them away and filled their plates for them, and one for Uncle Mac. They no longer ate like they were starving, but she glimpsed George pocket two split-top rolls, and Sadie meekly requested seconds, thirds and fourths.
After supper, Ann helped the children wash up, and carried a food-stupored Sadie upstairs. The girl dived under the covers in Ann’s bed and curled herself into a ball against the wall. Ann undressed and hurried quietly through her toilet before gingerly peeling back the covers and climbing into bed.
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