Fiona’s throat constricted a bit more. She’d recognized how Wyatt was trying to take over Sam’s position of the man of the family, but Brett’s explanation gave her an understanding she hadn’t recognized. How hard it was for Wyatt to do what he felt he needed to do. As a fresh bout of guilt rose up inside her, she whispered, “You’re right. You are so right.”
He grabbed the quilt and flipped it across the ground. Kneeling down, she helped him unpack the basket that held bowls full of all the things he’d mentioned, and a large apple pie, as well.
“Well, she didn’t say anything about this,” he said, setting the pie on the quilt.
“Who?”
“Mrs. Austin at the eatery. That’s where I got the food.” He pointed to the plates and forks. “I remembered the plates and forks at the house but forgot serving spoons.”
“I’m sure we’ll get by.” Then a bit overwhelmed by all of his kindness, she closed her eyes against the burning in her throat. “I don’t know how to thank you for this. I’m sure Rhett told you he was hungry.”
With a laugh, he said, “He may have mentioned that, but I’d already bought the chicken. I told you, I know how hungry little boys can get.”
“So do I,” she said, looking toward the boys. “There hasn’t been a day since Wyatt was born that I haven’t worried about feeding him, and then Rhett too.”
The touch of his hand on her arm was gentle. “Why?”
“Because feeding children is expensive,” she said without thinking. “My uncle made sure I understood that from the moment I moved into his house and reminded me of that again when I got married. Sam promised me we’d always have food, but—” Here she was again, telling him things she shouldn’t be telling anyone.
“But?”
Swallowing the fire in her throat as she watched Rhett and Wyatt happily filling the can with worms, she said, “The night Sam died, Rhett and Wyatt went to bed hungry. There was no food in the house. No flour. No beans. Not even an egg. I’d butchered the last chicken the week before. I’d tried taking in laundry and sewing, but that only angered Sam. He said he was going hunting that morning and would be back with food. But he went to rob a train with the Morgans instead.” The pain of the days following that night burned hot inside her. “A person can’t understand what it’s like to know your children are hungry and have no way of feeding them until they live through it themselves.”
Warm fingers folded around her wrist. The hold wasn’t hurtful, but it was solid, strong. “Look at me,” Brett said quietly.
She did and saw fortitude and honesty in his eyes as his gaze met hers.
“I don’t have to tell you I’m a big man, you can see that. I didn’t get this way by going hungry. Therefore, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, or those boys. Now, I don’t make promises lightly, but I can, without a doubt, promise you one thing. No friend of mine, big or little, will ever go hungry as long as I’m around.”
Fiona blinked at the tears blurring her vision. “I didn’t mean—”
“You simply told me the truth, Fiona, and that’s what I’m telling you. No matter what today brings, or tomorrow or next year, you have my promise. All I want in return is for you to remember that promise.”
No man could ever have vowed something as reverently as he just had. She shook her head because she couldn’t fathom how or why she’d told him the painful secrets she’d guarded for so long. She’d never even told Sam that going without food had been her worst fear since childhood.
“Promise me you’ll remember it,” he said.
Pinching her lips together, she nodded.
“Say it,” he coaxed.
“I promise.”
His hold on her wrist tightened slightly before he let go and turned around. “Hey, you two, this food looks awfully good over here and smells even better.”
Fiona quickly wiped both eyes, making sure no tears had slipped out as the boys, emitting delight-filled squeals, ran toward them.
“We got a whole can full of worms,” Wyatt shouted.
“That means we’ll catch lots of fish, don’t it, Brett?” Rhett asked, thrusting the can toward Brett as they arrived.
“It sure enough does,” Brett answered, taking the can and setting it down by the shovel. “But we have to eat first. You fellas go rinse the dirt off your hands.”
There wasn’t a single complaint about washing as the boys ran to the edge of the river.
“Wash up good,” Brett shouted in their wake. “Get all that worm grime off!”
Feeling as if her insides had been miraculously cleansed, Fiona giggled. “You are one of a kind, Brett Blackwell.”
He laughed. “That’s a good thing. This old world couldn’t handle two of me.”
Fiona wished that there were two of him, and that the other one was named Josiah Melbourne.
The boys each claimed a corner of the quilt, as did Brett, and in between bites of food, the boys showered him with questions about fishing. She might have hushed them if he hadn’t seemed to enjoy answering them so much. He told them about his home in Wisconsin, about fishing with his father and brothers, and about working in the woods. How men cut down the big trees and floated them down the river to the mill. She was enjoying the conversation as much as the boys and was just as enthralled by his antics as he embellished the stories with humorous descriptions of saws so long it took four men to carry them and trees taller than the river was wide.
His boisterous laugh was contagious. Rhett and Wyatt were laughing like they hadn’t in a very long time. So was she. The bright sun overhead paled in comparison to the shine on Brett’s face. He’d taken off his wide-brimmed hat and the black hair falling across his forehead made him look as young and carefree as her sons.
He was a handsome man. Far more so than Josiah Melbourne.
Although she hadn’t said the words aloud, Fiona bit the end of her tongue as if she had. They shouldn’t be here. She and the boys. She was promised to another man. Had made that promise herself. Yet there was a part of her that simply couldn’t deny Rhett and Wyatt this little bit of fun. Or herself. Being here, it was almost as if she’d left her old life behind.
She started stacking the empty bowls, including the pie pan. “Well, if you three plan on fishing today, you better get at it.”
“She’s right,” Brett said. “Gather up your plates, boys, we’ll rinse them off before we start fishing.”
“No,” Fiona said. “I’ll rinse off the dishes. You three go fishing.” Sensing a protest, she shook her head. “It’s the least I can do, Mr. Blackwell.”
He gave her a single nod and then picked up his hat. “Come on, fellas, let’s do as your ma says.”
Fiona waited until they’d gathered the fishing poles and can of worms and started walking toward the riverbank before she rose to her knees to gather the empty plates left on the corners of the quilt. An odd sensation had her pausing and placing a hand on her stomach. It was a moment before she realized just what she was feeling. She was full. Her stomach was completely full. She hadn’t experienced that in so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like.
She glanced toward the riverbank, where Brett knelt between her sons, helping them bait their hooks with worms from the can. She and the boys probably should have stayed at the house, waited for Josiah, but that didn’t stop her from saying a prayer of thanks that they were here. The boys would remember this day for years to come. So would she.
Rationalizing that they all deserved a happy memory to replace many not-so-happy ones, Fiona collected the dishes and carried them down to the river to rinse off before she packed everything into the basket, stacking the plates and forks from Brett’s house on top. She’d just tucked the blue checkered cloth across the top of the basket, when excited shouts drew her attention. She jumped to her feet in time to wa
tch Rhett reel in a fish. Brett was beside him, encouraging him the entire time, and then instructed him how to remove the hook and secure the fish on a stick.
Once that was all done, Rhett looked up the bank. “Did you see that, Ma? I caught a fish. A big one.”
“I saw,” she answered. “It is a big one.”
Brett waved a hand. “Come join us. We have a pole for you.”
“Ya, Ma, come join us!”
By the time she arrived at the river’s edge, Brett had baited her hook and tossed the line into the water. He handed her the pole at the same time Wyatt yelled that he had a fish on. That started a round of fishing like she’d never encountered. As soon as Brett finished helping Wyatt, Rhett hollered that he had another one. Then Wyatt again, and so on, until there were a good number of fish on the stick stuck straight up in the mud.
While Brett was still helping Rhett put another worm on his hook, her line went tight. She’d caught fish before, and knew what to do, but when the pole was almost yanked out of her hold, she squealed.
Brett was instantly next to her, telling her to keep the line tight.
“It must be a whale,” she exclaimed. “I’ve never had a fish fight so hard.”
“It’s a catfish,” Brett said. “They put up a good fight. Keep reeling to keep the line tight.”
“I’m trying,” she admitted as each rotation got harder. The end of the pole was bowed and the dark water swirling a few feet away.
“I do believe you have a monster,” Brett said as both of his hands covered hers. One holding on to the pole, the other helping her turn the crank.
Fiona’s heart leaped inside her chest so unexpectedly, she stumbled slightly.
“Whoa, there.” Brett released the pole long enough to wrap an arm around her and grab the pole again. “Don’t let him pull you in.”
His massive arms trapped her as he continued to reel the crank while steadily pulling up on the pole. She tried to concentrate on catching the fish, but her mind and body were thinking about other things. No, one thing. Brett. And how impossible it would be to fear anything with a man this big and strong for protection.
“Keep reeling,” Brett said, “he’s getting tired.”
The water was still swirling, so she highly doubted the fish was getting tired. Brett was doing all the work on their end. Her hands were simply beneath his, absorbing the warmth of his touch and sending that warmth throughout her body.
“Let’s take a few steps backward,” Brett said. “Drag him into the shallow water so I can grab him before he breaks the line.”
She nodded but in truth had no say in the matter. Brett was already walking backward and her position of being caught between his arms had her following his footsteps.
The pressure of his hand as it turned the crank told her it was getting harder and harder to reel in any more line.
“Keep your hand on the reel and the line as tight as you can,” Brett said as he eased his hands away.
“What are you going to do?”
“Catch your fish.” The next instant, he ran past her and into the river.
The boys started cheering as Brett stood in the knee-deep water, trying to grasp the fish making the water swirl and splash. Fiona couldn’t stop herself from joining in, cheering him on, especially when Brett let out a victorious yell and stood up straight with his arms wrapped around a huge catfish.
She hurried forward, reeling line in as she moved.
“That’s the biggest fish I’ve ever seen!” Wyatt shouted.
“Ma was right, it is a whale!” Rhett added.
“It’s a dandy for sure,” Brett said, walking toward shore. “I’d guess it weighs close to fifty pounds.”
“Fifty pounds? Surely not.” Yet as she said the words, her mind was calculating the fish probably did weigh more than Rhett. It was huge. Even compared to Brett, who was the largest man she’d ever seen. The fish was as wide as Brett’s chest and its tail hung down past his thighs.
“That’s my estimate,” he said, stepping out of the mucky water and onto the muddy shoreline. “You pickle him up and you’ll have enough jars to last through the winter.”
“I’ve never pickled fish,” she replied, already calculating if she had enough jars.
“My ma did all the time, I can show you how,” Brett said as he walked past her. “Gotta carry this guy up the bank, he’s big enough to dive right back in from down here.”
The riverbank wasn’t overly high, but it was steep and lined with plenty of rocks and sticks. She was just about to tell him to watch his step, when Rhett, running to catch up with Brett, tripped over the line that still connected the fish to the pole in her hand. In the split seconds that followed, several things happened. The pole was jerked out of her hands as Rhett tumbled forward. Brett dropped the fish in order to catch Rhett before he fell on a large rock, and she dived on top of the flopping fish.
Its tail slapped her in the face before she managed to trap it under one hand while maneuvering about to plant one knee on the fish’s back and the other behind its head. With the fish secured, she glanced up. “Is he all right?”
Brett was holding Rhett in one arm, and they were both staring down at her. Wide-eyed. So was Wyatt.
“I’m assuming you mean Rhett,” Brett said.
“Yes.” A touch of chagrin burned her cheeks. “I didn’t want the fish to get away.”
Grinning, he nodded. “I see that. And Rhett’s fine.”
Wyatt pointed to the ground. “You broke Brett’s pole, Ma.”
She’d heard a snap when she’d landed on the fish but hadn’t given it any notice. “Oh, no,” she mumbled. “I’m so sor—”
“Don’t worry about the pole,” Brett said, setting Rhett down. “I have several more. Are you all right?”
“Perfectly fine,” she said while glancing down toward the muddy slime covering the front of her dress. “I guess I got a little muddy.”
“I’d say a lot muddy, Ma,” Rhett said. “Muddier than me, even.”
Looking at each of the boys and Brett, she laughed. “I guess that’s true, but I didn’t let this monster get away, did I?”
“No, sirree!” Wyatt exclaimed. “You jumped right on. I didn’t know you could move so fast.”
That made her laugh again, and the others joined in.
“What is going on here?”
Fiona froze and coughed and had no need to look up the bank to know Josiah stood there.
Chapter Six
The laughter in Brett’s throat turned to a growl as he turned toward the bank. After what Fiona had told him earlier, Josiah’s neglect of her yesterday and today instantly curdled his stomach. “Catching fish, Melbourne, haven’t you ever seen that done before?”
“Get up here, Fiona,” Josiah shouted. “Right this instant.”
She didn’t move, other than to glance his way, and Brett doubted he’d ever seen such pleading in a person’s eyes before. Or such regret. He planted a foot on the fish’s tail, next to her hand, and grasped her arm to help her up. Once she was standing, he started to tell her she didn’t have to leave but held his silence when she shook her head.
She bent down and picked up the pole that had snapped in half. “Boys, gather up the fishing poles.”
The fun they’d been having had completely disappeared and left a gloom hanging heavily in the air. With sad eyes, both boys looked at him, and having no other choice, he nodded, “Do as your mother says.”
Brett hoisted the fish off the ground, which seemed to weigh more now that excitement no longer surged through him, and carried it up the bank. Fiona had already climbed up the embankment. Her head hung low as Josiah barked how she should be embarrassed.
Although he shouldn’t step in, Brett couldn’t stand by and watch h
er being chastised. “She doesn’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”
“Women,” Josiah snapped, “especially those concerned about their reputation, do not go fishing, and you stay out of this, Blackwell. I told you this morning to stay away from her.” He grabbed Fiona’s arm and forced her to start walking. “And I told you to stay at the house. I’ve wasted over an hour looking for you.”
Brett considered dropping the fish in order to grab Josiah by the arm and give him a good solid piece of his mind, but, as if reading his intention, Fiona shook her head again.
She also stopped walking and pulled her arm out of Josiah’s grasp. “I apologize for not being at the house, but the boys were hungry and bored.”
Josiah mumbled beneath his breath before he gestured toward the boys. “Gather up those heathens so you can go change your clothes.”
Brett squeezed the fish so hard it struggled in his arms, but he held his tongue as Fiona’s eyes narrowed.
She lifted her chin and calmly said to Josiah, “We will meet you at the house. Right after we help Mr. Blackwell carry all this back to his place.”
“He doesn’t need any help,” Josiah protested.
“Yes, he does.” Wyatt ran up to stand in front of his mother. “And we’re gonna help him.”
This wasn’t his fight, but Brett was having a hard time not stepping in. With a steady glare, he let Josiah know what would happen if he lifted a hand toward either Fiona or the boy.
Josiah must have understood at least a portion of how that might turn out for him because he took a step back. “All right, the boys can help Brett if they must while you and I return to the house, Fiona.”
Fiona’s eyes said all Brett needed to know. He could accept she and Josiah needed some time alone to settle a few things, and he gave her a single head nod to let her know the boys would be fine with him.
“Very well, Mr. Melbourne,” she said. “I will return with you, but I will carry the baskets and quilt.”
Winning the Mail-Order Bride Page 7
