Familiar barn smells bombarded Rocky's senses as he drew near the door and pushed it open, its hinges squeaking in protest. "Mornin', all," he muttered in routine fashion, snatching up a clean milk pail from a nearby shelf.
The sounds of bleating, impatient cows and hungry horses greeted him, stomping hooves against boarded walls or clomping hoofed feet into grungy straw, their way of scolding him for not coming sooner.
"Have a little patience," he murmured. "There's only one of me. First comes the milking, then the mucking out of stalls. After that, you'll all get your bellies stuffed."
On cue, they settled into a peaceful contentedness, having recognized the familiar drone of their owner's voice.
Yanking down a bridle that needed mending from a nearby nail, Rocky hitched it over one shoulder and headed across the barn toward the milk cows. He threw the bridle down on his workbench, then walked to Mary Lou. "You first, girl," he muttered. Some time ago, he'd established an order for milking, and there was no question the animals all knew it.
He led Mary Lou out of her stall and into the milking aisle, where he tied her to the milking post. "Hey there," he greeted absently. In answer, she gave a low moo and allowed him to situate her. Once done, he went about making himself comfortable on his trusty stool.
A couple of barn cats approached on schedule, one of them mewing out a chorus in hopes of coaxing Rocky into filling their dish with fresh, warm milk. The one he'd dubbed Rainbow for its multicolored coat began its usual rubbing up against his ankles. The gray tom hung back in his usual shy manner, deciding it best to let the calico do the begging for both of them.
He loved this aspect of farming-the camaraderie with the animals, the trust and allegiance they'd all formed with one another. Unlike his home, the barnyard held no expectations, no rules for uprightness or good manners. It hadn't occurred to him that once he married he would need to change his behavior in order to set an example for the children. Asking to be excused from his own table when he was finished eating seemed a bit much. He scowled in remembrance at the way his new wife had reprimanded him.
What other rules of etiquette did she have hidden up those purple satin sleeves?
arah spent the entire morning scrubbing floors, washing down kitchen shelves, scouring the sink, and taking down curtains to prepare for laundering. She put Rachel to work at the table, polishing mismatched silverware and gave Seth the job of counting and sorting canned goods in the leanto off the small kitchen. Neither child appeared opposed to working once Sarah appointed them jobs. In fact, they seemed thrilled at the prospect, chattering nonstop as they worked.
"You don't grump at us like Uncle Rocky," said Rachel.
"Yeah, he's grouchy most of the time, 'cept when it's bedtime for me and Rachel," Seth supplied, peeking his head around the corner at both of them.
Sarah managed a smile. "Your uncle has much on his mind," she answered, temporarily averting her gaze from the floor, but not slowing her scrubbing motion. She'd long since shed her satin gown in favor of something more practical-a yellow cotton chemise with three-quarter length sleeves and belted black skirt. She longed to don a pair of men's pants for all the stooping and bending she was doing but doubted Rocky would approve. Her hair, now knotted more securely at the top of her head, still refused to stay completely put. Evidence of that were the stubborn strands that continually fell across her face, blocking her vision.
"Why does he have to be so mean to us?" Rachel asked.
Sarah looked up from her stooped position on the hardwood floor. "In what way is your uncle mean to you?" If he were truly mean to the children, she would find the underlying cause and see what she could do to alleviate the problem. On the other hand, if they objected to his sternness, there was little she could do unless the man softened.
"He don't never laugh or smile," Seth offered, giving Rachel little chance to answer the question Sarah had directed at her.
Sarah eyed Seth with sympathy, deciding to ignore his poor grammar for now. "Well, perhaps he hasn't had much occasion to do either. Maybe we'll have to see about changing that."
The boy wrinkled his nose. "How would we do that?"
"He don't even like us," Rachel interjected.
"I'm sure he loves you both. It's just that-well, he's had some difficult things happen to him along the way."
"Like what?" Seth's eyebrows shot up in question. It appeared to Sarah that he'd ceased his job of counting and sorting cans.
"Well, his wife died a few years back of a bad disease, and then his little boy died less than a year ago."
"Nobody ever told us he had a little boy," Rachel said. "How come nobody ever tells us anything?"
"I imagine most folks figured you two had enough sadness to deal with."
"No wonder he don't like us. We probably remind him of his other family," Rachel said. The child's insightfulness came as a surprise.
"Well, I wouldn't worry about that. It's been a big adjustment for all of you. It will continue to take time. And now, besides your uncle, you have me to get used to."
Neither commented on that, so Sarah continued scrubbing, noting with satisfaction how the floor had lost its dullness. Underneath the layers of dirt and grime, there emerged a lovely pine floor. Of course, it could stand a good polishing, but at least it would appear much brighter than before without all that dirt.
"How come you married Uncle Rocky?" Rachel asked after several minutes of comfortable silence. The question set her back.
"I suppose I felt compelled to help him raise the two of you," she offered. "Mostly, though, God led me to marry him."
"Do you like him?" Seth asked, peeking around the corner, a can of peaches in hand.
Sarah felt her mouth turn down in the corner. "Well, I suppose I do, although I don't know him very well."
Rachel giggled, and the sound reminded Sarah of a babbling brook, warm and free. She doubted the child had had much occasion for laughter since arriving at her uncle's farm.
"What's so funny?" she asked, blowing several strands of hair off her face in order to see the girl.
Between spurts of continued laughter, the child replied, "You look silly."
Sarah could only imagine. Crawling across the floor like a giant bug, hair falling every which direction, soiled clothing damp and grimy. Was it any wonder she laughed? As if on cue, Seth joined in, his mirth a contagious mixture of giggles and glee. She had no choice but to enter into the merriment.
At the height of their hilarity, the door blew open and in its wake stood Mr. Callahan, his wool cap pulled down over his furrowed brow, his mouth a straight line that revealed not the slightest hint of amusement. Large, booted feet spread wide in the open doorway; he resembled an ornery bear awaiting his dinner.
"Mercy me, Mr. Callahan, you frightened us," Sarah managed, arranging herself on the floor so that her legs folded beneath her, certain she looked anything but womanly. Glancing at both children, she detected fear in their eyes. Hastily, Seth scooted back to his can-sorting job in the lean-to and Rachel made quick work of polishing a spoon. Did he always greet them with a sour look?
"Nice to see you're having a grand time," he muttered, closing the door behind him and strolling across Sarah's clean floor, taking care to step around her, but nonetheless leaving a trail of clay from the door to the kitchen sink. It took all of Sarah's reserve to hold her temper under lock and key.
"You're early for lunch, Mr. Callahan," she said, placing her damp hands in the lap of her grungy black skirt.
"Just stopped in for a drink of water." He forced the pump handle up and down a few times until clear water ran from the spigot. Then he thrust a tin cup under the stream, brought it to his mouth, and drank his fill. Afterward, he plunked the cup onto the spotless sink she'd spent an hour scouring.
"You can call me by my first name, you know," he said, turning to face her, arms folded across his massive chest.
She thought about that. "Your formal name seems more suitable-at le
ast until we get to know each other better."
"We're married, Sarah. Rocky will do just fine."
It made her shiver the way her own name rolled off his tongue so nonchalantly.
"Fine," she answered. "I'll do my best to remember that."
He permitted his eyes to roam around the room. "Appears you've been busy," he said, his tone guarded. Far be it from him to extend a compliment, Sarah mused.
"The children have been a very big help."
"As well they should," he said.
Ignoring his mood, she continued, "Seth has been working in the pantry, and as you can see, Rachel is polishing the silver. So far we've scrubbed floors, scoured the sink and cabinets, and washed a few drawers."
Rocky nodded, this time showing a measure of approval. "It hasn't looked this good since Hester..." Sarah knew he regretted having mentioned his former wife yet again in her presence, and because of it, she didn't prod him to continue. Would he never cease to think of her? Three years seemed ample enough time for him to get on with his life. "What have you done with all the curtains?" he asked.
She glanced at the bare windows. "We took them down to launder. They were full of dust, Mr.-uh, Rocky." His name did not roll off her tongue nearly as easily as hers did his.
"I see. Well, carry on, then. I'll be in the barn." He pushed himself away from the sink. "I'll be back at noon. This afternoon I'll be heading out to the north field to repair a fence line."
Suddenly, Sarah brightened. "Perhaps you would enjoy taking Seth with you. I'm sure he could be of help, and it would do both of you good to spend some time together."
A mysterious expression swept across his face. "I think not. Farming is man's work."
"But how else will he learn if you don't teach him? One day he'll be a man himself and-"
"Sarah, I'll thank you not to intrude."
His harshness set her back-but not for long. "Intrude? That was not my intention." She jumped to her feet, knowing she looked a sight but caring little. "I was merely suggesting it might be good to begin teaching the boy small tasks. He's not too young, in my opinion."
"In your opinion?" Rocky slipped an eyebrow up, whether in amusement or disapproval she couldn't say. "Already you're an authority on child rearing?"
"Of course not," she shot back, angry at his refusal to take her seriously. "It's just that I'm sure Seth would rather spend time with you than with Rachel and me. We will be working in the house most of the day."
"Taking the boy along would only slow my progress," he alleged. At this, his gaze trailed to Seth, whose saddened eyes seemed not to affect Rocky in the least. Then to Sarah, he added, "I have an agenda to keep, and since there's only one of me, I haven't time for wasting it on babysitting."
"Babysitting? Is that what you call it?"
"I'm not a baby!" Seth wailed, jumping down from his little stool in the lean-to and making a beeline for his room.
Equally upset was Rachel, who slammed down the fork she was polishing to follow in Seth's trail, making a point to shut their bedroom door with a bang.
Rocky glared at Sarah. "Now look what you've done," he said, his forehead knit together in a cavernous frown.
"Me! I did nothing but recommend you take Seth with you to the field. You're the one who broke his heart by suggesting he'd be nothing but trouble."
"Don't be dramatic. The boy will survive, and I didn't say he'd be nothing but trouble."
"You implied as much."
"It's not my problem if he chose to see it that way."
Without forethought, she inched closer, matching her husband's angry glare. "How dare you treat an innocent five-yearold as if he were a bother? Does it not occur to you that your nephew could use some male attention?"
His eyes flashed in their usual show of impatience. "Does it not occur to you that I have a farm to run? If the boy starts tagging along with me, I won't accomplish a thing in the way of work. I have fences to mend, soil to till, machinery to repair, animals to feed." He threw up his arms. "How am I supposed to do all that and still keep watch over a child?"
"Why don't you hire someone to help you if you're so overwhelmed? I'm sure you can afford it," she replied, surprising even herself with her forthrightness.
Now his eyes blazed with more than impatience. "I'm sorry to report that I haven't a great deal of wealth. Disappointed?" He leaned in close enough to touch her cheek with his hot breath, close enough to kiss her. Nervously she looped a loose strand of hair behind her ear and felt her back go ramrod straight.
"Certainly not," she replied. "I couldn't care less about your moneyor lack thereof."
"Really? It's obvious you're accustomed to far more than what I have to offer you." She quivered when his eyes roamed the length of her. "In fact, I daresay you haven't broken a sweat till today." When he would have touched a finger to her damp brow, she angled her face away.
"My only concern is for the children," she hastened. "Your hiring help would free you up for giving them your attention." Best to stay on track, she mused, much as she'd like to counter his crudeness.
His well-chiseled chin jutted forward as he cast a hurried glance at the closed bedroom door. "They have you to look after them now."
She shook her head. "I'm not enough for them. They need a father."
"Pfff." His firm mouth tensed, the clear-cut lines of his profile sharpening. "They seem to have fared fine without one up till now."
Goodness, but he was a hard-boiled rattlebrain, and she might have told him so were it not for her Christian witness. My, but it was hard to rein in her temper where Rocky Callahan was concerned. Several practiced breaths later, she raised her chin and brushed her hands on her soiled skirt. "I've work to do," she muttered.
For a change, he stood stock still, his only movement a twitching nerve that spanned his square-set jaw. "As do I," he finally replied. At the door, he paused and turned. "I expect when I get back the children's moods will have brightened."
And just like that, he disappeared from view.
When the ancient clock on the wall struck twelve, neither child's disposition appeared much improved. Although Sarah had coaxed them from their room, they hadn't smiled once, even though they'd both complied when she'd asked them to set the table, fill the water glasses, and take the two rugs by the door outside for a good shaking. This time, when her husband entered, she would insist he remove his shoes. It was the least he could do if she was to keep a tidy house.
When Rocky came inside, however, he bent to untie them of his own accord, kicked them off, and then shoved them up against the wall with his stocking-covered foot. Once done, he perused the place in silence, eyed each child with a guarded look, then fixed his gaze on Sarah. "Something smells mighty fine," he muttered, shaking off his coat and hanging it on the hook.
"I made a hearty chicken soup and baked some biscuits. I added a few vegetables to the broth. I hope you don't mind."
"Why should I mind? Anything you fix will be better than what I've eaten lately." He took a long breath, glanced once again at the silent children, then crossed the room and headed for the sink. As he passed in front of her while rolling up his sleeves, the scent of barn and animal wafted through the air.
"Isn't there a pump outside where you could wash up?" He paused midway between her and the sink and gave her a questioning stare, so she hastily added, "After today, of course."
"There is, but it's winter. I prefer to wash up inside until warmer weather sets in, if you don't mind."
"I suppose that will be fine, then. Thank you for removing your shoes at the door."
For the first time, a slight smile made its home on his mouth. "I've decided not to risk any more of your wrath today." He pumped a steady stream of water from the faucet and washed his hands, grabbing a nearby bar of soap and working up a good lather before rinsing them. Sarah stepped forward and handed him a dry towel. He gave her a look that flickered with a hint of warmth. "Thank you."
She relaxed her shoul
ders and returned a shy smile. It was a start.
His new wife was a good cook. Funny, he hadn't expected it of her. Oh, he'd known all along she'd be good to the children, but the fact she could cook and clean was a nice bonus.
After a painfully quiet lunch, during which both children watched him with suspicion, he pushed his chair back and suppressed a belch, inwardly knowing Sarah would balk if he indulged himself.
"Are you finished already?" she asked, dabbing her spotless chin with a napkin. The children looked up when Sarah spoke, Rachel's face holding a perpetual frown.
Rocky viewed his wife from across the table. She'd changed out of her drab black skirt and yellow blouse into a vivid blue gown that served to lighten her hazel-colored eyes, and had even piled her wandering locks of burnished, wine-red hair back into a tight little bun. Had she primped in the hope of pleasing him? Well, she needn't have bothered, he ruled. No matter how pretty she might be, he wasn't about to start lavishing her with attention.
"Yes," he replied, setting his napkin beside his plate. When he would have stood, it occurred to him she was waiting for his formal request to leave the table.
Irked, he gave her what truly must have been a scathing look. "Uh, excuse me. Please."
The smile she gifted him with was as wide as the whole state of Kentucky, and for reasons unknown to him, it tugged at a cold, dark place in his heart. "You're excused," she said, pulling back her shoulders in a show of pride.
Irritated with himself for wishing he could make her smile last, he stood up, then took a moment to glance at Seth. The boy watched him with wariness, his light brown eyebrows puckered, his mouth turned down into a pout.
How else will he learn if you don't teach him?
"You want to come with me, kid?" he asked, dumbfounded when the words rolled off his tongue.
"Me?" Seth squealed. Brown eyes, the color of dark chocolate, grew to twice their normal size. "You mean it?"
"I don't want you thinking we'll be making a habit of it, especially once planting season arrives."
Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) Page 8
