She gave him a shaky smile. “Just got dizzy for a moment.”
“That does it.” He led her firmly back to the table. “I want you to sit here and not get up again until it’s time to turn in.”
“Don’t be silly. It was just—”
“No arguments.” He pointed to the chair. “Sit.”
She stared at him mutinously for another heartbeat. Then she relaxed and gave him a pert grin. “I suppose,” she said, sitting with exaggerated care, “that if you insist on waiting on me, I should just let you.”
His lips quirked at that, and he gave a ceremonious bow. “At your service, m’lady.”
* * *
Ivy propped her elbows on the table and watched as Mr. Parker went back to the stove. He certainly was a puzzle of a man. Big as a grizzly but graceful as a wolf. All prickly and proper when it came to matters of propriety but able to take her teasing with good humor and even give it back to her at times. Able to carry heavy loads—like a fully grown woman—and with those same hands he could draw the most amazing pictures. And for all his stern exterior, she was beginning to believe he was soft as a mossy creek bank on the inside.
Maybe not such a puzzle after all—he was just a good man.
Rufus padded over and she reached down to pat his head. “Hello, boy. Getting restless, are you?” She glanced up at her host. “Has he eaten anything today?”
Mr. Parker turned and frowned down at Rufus. “I gave him a bit of pemmican and some broth earlier.”
She should have known he’d take care of her dog. He ladled the soup into two bowls. “I suppose the mutt can have anything left in the pot when we’ve eaten our fill tonight.”
He carried one of the bowls to the table and set it in front of her with a stern look. “I expect you to eat all of it. You need to keep your strength up.”
Without waiting for her response, he turned to fetch his own bowl.
Normally she’d get her back up at being ordered around, but she found herself smiling instead. He was being outlandishly high-handed, of course. But she also knew she’d scared him with her momentary light-headedness and this was likely how he dealt with it.
A moment later, he rejoined her at the table. As he settled into his seat, she met his gaze expectantly. “Would you like to say grace?”
Mr. Parker stilled and something she couldn’t read flitted across his expression. Was he not a praying man?
But then he bowed his head. “Dear Lord, we thank You for providing this food we are about to partake of, and for the blessings You have bestowed on us this day.” He paused a heartbeat, then added, “We also ask that You restore good health to Miss Feagan.”
“And to Jubal, as well,” Ivy interjected quickly. “Amen.”
Mr. Parker echoed her amen, then picked up his spoon. Before taking a bite, he glanced her way. “Earlier you mentioned you might have an inheritance waiting for you in Turnabout. If you don’t mind my asking, what did you mean by might?”
“Reverend Tomlin got a letter a few days ago that said if Robert Feagan’s daughter was still alive then there was an inheritance waiting for her in Turnabout. And I’m Robert Feagan’s daughter so I just figured I’d head on over to check it out.”
“Just like that?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never been one to let others make decisions for me.” She grinned. “And I’m also not very patient. Nana Dovie says it’s one of my biggest faults.”
“And the letter didn’t give you any other details?”
“No, and I’m more than a tad curious.” Then she realized he might be able to fill in some of the blanks for her. “Do you know a man named Drum Mosley?”
“Only well enough to exchange greetings. He owns a large ranch outside of town. Is he a relative?”
Something in his tone made her think he knew more than he was saying. “No. But it seems he knew my father. According to the letter, he’s been holding something in trust on my father’s behalf and if I can prove I’m my father’s child, he’ll turn it over to me, whatever it is.”
“My condolences on the loss of your father.”
She shrugged. “Thanks. But he passed on when I was just a babe, so I didn’t know him.”
“Drum’s expecting you, then?”
“Don’t know about that.”
“You didn’t send a response to his letter?”
“I figured there wasn’t much use since I’d get there at about the same time as a letter.” She grimaced. “Or at least I would have if I hadn’t run into these delays.” She’d had enough of talking about herself. She’d much rather learn more about him. “Tell me something about yourself.”
“Anything specific you’d like to know?”
“Do you have any family?”
“I have two sisters.”
“Older or younger than you?”
“Both are younger.”
She imagined he’d make a fine older brother, always there to look out for his little sisters. “I’ve always wished I was part of a larger family,” she said wistfully. “Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t ask for a better person than Nana Dovie to raise me, but it always seemed kind of lonesome out in the country with no other young’uns to play with.”
She dipped her spoon back in her bowl. “So, how often do you get to see them?”
“Not often. They’re both happily married. Erica, the elder of the two, married a doctor and they moved to San Francisco. They now have four children—three girls and a boy. Katie, my baby sister, married an Italian concert pianist, of all things, and spends much of her time in Europe. They have three little boys.”
“Oh, my goodness, your family is scattered all over creation. No wonder you don’t see them often.”
“We keep in touch with letters.”
“What about your parents?”
“They’ve both passed on.”
So he was an orphan, too. “I’m sorry.” She hesitated a moment, then plunged in with a more personal question. “And you never married?”
From the way his expression immediately closed off, she knew she’d overstepped. “That was rude—forget I asked. Sometimes I speak before I think.”
“I married once. She, also, has passed away.”
Now she really felt bad. Obviously it still stirred up painful memories. “I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling the words were entirely inadequate.
“I appreciate your sympathy.” He stood. “Looks like you finished your soup. Would you like another serving?”
He obviously wanted to put some distance between them, and she didn’t blame him. “No, thank you—I’m full.” She stood, as well. “I should probably check on Jubal before it gets dark.”.
But he shook his head. “I’ll take care of that. Why don’t you feed Rufus?”
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own animal.”
“Then take care of your dog.”
She bit her tongue, trying to remember that, despite his bossiness, he meant well. She gave a short nod.
For tonight, she’d hold her peace. But come tomorrow it would be a different story.
* * *
Mitch added a couple of buckets of water to the trough.
He’d felt like a fraud earlier when he’d said grace, especially when he’d looked up afterward to see the soft approval in Ivy Feagan’s eyes.
Though he went to church services regularly and attended meals in friends’ homes, where prayers were offered, it had been a long time since he’d truly prayed himself, much less done so publicly. But he did believe in the Almighty and he’d felt strangely reluctant to refuse her request.
The words had come naturally to him, as if riding a horse again after a long convalescence.
Had God, knowing
his heart, been offended by his prayer?
Which, for some reason, brought his thoughts around to that moment when Ivy had asked him if he was married.
It had taken all of his control not to react as the painful memories returned. Sweet-tempered, turn-the-other-cheek Gretchen, the woman he’d vowed to cherish and protect, hadn’t deserved the violent, senseless death that had been her lot. And he may not have actually pulled the trigger, but her death was as much his fault as if he had.
He could never forgive himself for that.
Mitch pushed away those fruitless thoughts and focused on Jubal. He firmly nudged the animal, forcing him to take a few reluctant steps, and studied his gait. It was quickly apparent that the mule would indeed need more time before he could make the trip to Turnabout.
“Sorry you had to make that long walk this morning, but it couldn’t be helped.” He gave the animal a handful of oats and patted his side. “But I’ll make you as comfortable as I can while you recover.”
He dug out another scoop of grain and turned to Seeley. “Here you go.” He stroked the animal’s nose. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten about you, did you?”
As he tended to the animals, his thoughts drifted back to Miss Feagan’s mention of that possible inheritance. The conversation had raised as many questions as it had answered. If her father had been dead for all these years, then why was she just now hearing about her inheritance?
And it was even stranger that Drum Mosley was involved. The man had a reputation as a penny-pincher. Mitch couldn’t picture him voluntarily giving away any of his holdings. Then again, he vaguely remembered hearing that Drum had taken to his sickbed recently. Perhaps the rancher was getting his affairs in order.
Whatever the case, it was none of his business. As soon as he could get her to Turnabout, his involvement in her affairs would be over.
He picked up the water bucket and headed back to the cabin, ignoring the little voice inside him that whispered his involvement in Miss Feagan’s affairs was actually just beginning.
When Mitch returned to the cabin, the dishes had been cleaned and put away, and the checkerboard set up for another game.
“I see you’ve been busy,” he said with what he considered commendable restraint. He should have known she wouldn’t take it easy.
She waved toward the game board. “Didn’t want anything standing in the way of my getting my revenge.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather turn in? I wouldn’t want you to suffer yet a third defeat.”
“That does it. Sit yourself down and prepare to eat those words.”
And to his surprise, she actually won.
Mitch found himself smiling as she crowed about her victory. Then he started collecting the checkers. “I believe I’d better quit while I’m ahead. And dusk settled in while we weren’t looking, so it’s time to call it a night. It’s been a long day and we both could use some rest.”
She grimaced. “All I’ve done today is rest.”
But since she followed that statement with a broad yawn, he had no compunction in insisting. “Is there anything you need before you retire?” he asked as he stood.
Miss Feagan shook her head. “I’ll be fine, thank you. Good night.” She crossed the room then paused and eyed him suspiciously. “You do remember you promised not to sleep outside, don’t you?”
He’d hoped she wouldn’t bring that up again. But maybe it was best that she knew his plans so she could speak honestly if questions came up later. “What I promised was to sleep under this roof. I’m going to drag the mattress from the other bed out to the porch. It’s a nice night and I’ll be quite comfortable.” He raised a hand to stop the protest already forming on her lips. “My mind is made up.”
She crossed her arms, glaring at him, frustration etched on her face. “It just doesn’t seem right.”
“Still, the decision is mine so you’ll just have to accept it.”
She glared a moment longer, then lifted her hands in surrender. “Have it your way.”
As she turned to her room, he called out, “Take Rufus with you.”
Just before she closed her door, Mitch thought he heard her mutter something that contained the phrase “more stubborn than Jubal.”
He grinned as he wrestled the unwieldy mattress out the front door. She certainly wasn’t bashful about speaking her mind. But at least she was smart enough to know when arguments were useless.
His smile faded as he stretched out on the mattress and stared out at the stars. If he was being entirely honest with himself, despite his desire for solitude, he hadn’t really minded her presence here today. Which was troubling.
Because he had to hold himself apart. He couldn’t risk hurting someone else the way he’d hurt Gretchen.
Chapter Five
As Ivy settled into bed, she marveled at how the day had turned out to be so different from what she’d imagined when she woke this morning. She’d been worried about Jubal’s hoof and whether or not she’d be able to stretch her provisions if they were delayed much longer. And now, here she was, a roof over her head and a warm, dry bed to sleep in, plenty of provisions to carry her through and a proper place to let Jubal rest and heal.
And befriending Mr. Parker was an unexpected blessing for sure. Even though he was something of a stiff-necked gent at times, his concern for both her physical well-being and her reputation was touching. She no longer found his size intimidating—rather it was comforting to know that so much strength was tempered by restraint and kindness.
And as much as she considered herself independent, knowing there would be someone in Turnabout she could turn to if the need arose was also very comforting.
Lord, despite these unexpected delays, You’ve sure been kind to me. Of all the folks who could have happened across me out here, You sent the most honorable man I’ve ever met. Thank You for that grace.
Amen.
* * *
By the time Ivy rose the next morning she could hear Mr. Parker moving around in the kitchen. The smell of coffee brewing had her rushing through her morning ablutions to join him.
When she opened the door, he looked up with a smile. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”
“Smells mighty good.”
He shrugged. “It’s nothing fancy—just hardtack biscuits and strawberry preserves. But I softened the biscuits in the skillet with a little bacon grease.”
“Apologies not necessary—it sounds like just the thing.”
He gave her a searching look. “How are you feeling today?”
“Much more myself, thanks.” She refused to let him mollycoddle her today. “The smell of coffee was sure nice to wake up to.”
“It’s ready if you want to help yourself. The cups are on that shelf next to the window.”
She crossed the room and reached for the cups. “Want me to pour you some, too?”
He nodded as he set the dish of warm biscuits on the table. “Thank you.”
Ivy carefully carried the nearly full cups to the table and took her seat. He seemed cheerful and rested today—maybe sleeping on the porch hadn’t bothered him as much as she’d feared. “I hope the mosquitoes didn’t pester you too much last night.”
“I managed to sleep through it.”
His dry tone made her wonder if he was downplaying the amount of aggravation he’d experienced.
After they said the blessing, she slathered some jelly on her biscuit. “I should be up to that four-hour ride to Turnabout today.”
He gave no outward reaction, but she could tell he had reservations. Not surprising—did the man ever do anything spontaneously? But she would’ve thought he’d be glad to get rid of her by now.
Mr. Parker took a sip of coffee before responding. “I checked on Jubal when I got the wood for
the stove this morning. He needs at least one more day’s rest before he undertakes that long trip.”
She tried to rein in her disappointment. “Of course I don’t want to push him if he’s not ready. I’ll take a look at him after breakfast and decide.”
His left brow rose. “Does this matter in Turnabout require your immediate attention?”
She waved dismissively. “That’s not it. This inheritance thing has waited more than twenty years so another day or two won’t make much difference.” She rubbed her cheek. “But Nana Dovie’s going to worry if she doesn’t hear from me soon. I promised to send her a telegram when I got to Turnabout so she’d know I’d arrived safely.”
He nodded. “I see.” Then he studied her a moment longer. “This Nana Dovie means a great deal to you. I can hear it in your voice when you speak of her.”
Ivy nodded. “She’s the only family I have,” she said simply.
“And how will she react to not having heard from you yet?”
“Nana Dovie’s not one to panic easily,” she said. “We discussed this trip before I left, and much as I’d hoped to make the trip in two days, we both knew it might take longer. But if she doesn’t hear from me by tomorrow, she’ll fear the worst.” Ivy hated the idea of putting the only mother she’d ever known through such needless worry.
“Don’t worry—we’ll send word as soon as we’re able.”
Ivy found it interesting that he’d said “we” and not “you.”
“There’s something else. Nana Dovie doesn’t leave the farm, ever, so she’ll have to wait until the reverend pays a visit to send an inquiry.”
She saw the flicker of speculation in his eyes at her statement, but he didn’t press. She was coming to appreciate his tact.
He stood and carried his dishes to the counter. “Then it’s best we plan to leave first thing in the morning.”
It wasn’t ideal, but perhaps Nana Dovie wouldn’t start imagining the worst before then. She followed him to the counter with her own dishes. “So you think Jubal will be ready for the trip by then?”
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