The Cowboy Comes Home

by Linda Ford

  He followed her to the shed and allowed her to fill his arms with bits of lumber.

  Back in the garden, she drove the thinner pieces into the ground as uprights and showed him how to place the wider pieces against them and hold them in place with the dirt. As they worked, she told him about the place she’d made in the loft.

  She heard a horse trot down the alley and kept her gaze averted to the count of five before she glanced up. Linc on Big Red rode toward the center of town.

  He nodded at them, grinning. “Playing in the dirt, I see.”

  She tossed her hair out of her eyes. “We’re building.”

  “What are you building?”

  “I’m not sure. Robbie, what are we building?”

  “A fort.” He didn’t pause from scooping dirt against the walls.

  Linc looked from Robbie to Sally, paused a moment then returned to Robbie. “What sort of fort?”

  “To keep out the bad guys.”

  For a moment Linc didn’t move, didn’t say anything and his grin seemed narrower. “Guess we all need a safe place.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Perhaps I’ll see you later.”

  Sally waited until he rode out of sight then pushed to her feet. “I have to check on dinner. Call me if you need any help.”

  Robbie kept shoveling dirt.

  We all need a safe place. Exactly her sentiments. She paused outside the door and studied the house. A good solid house. A safe place? She glanced over her shoulder. Safer than a man on horseback who dropped in from who-knows-where and would likely drop back out as quickly and silently.

  She hurried indoors and put the biscuits in the oven to bake.

  The meal was ready when Abe stepped into the house. The table was set neatly. She’d put the soup in a pretty tureen in the middle of the table and arranged the biscuits on a nice platter. She’d even found a glass dish for the butter.

  Robbie had come in without arguing. He’d dusted his clothes and washed his face and hands. Hardly any evidence remained of his morning spent playing in the dirt.

  Sally was satisfied the meal looked as good as it smelled. Everything was done to perfection. As she’d taken care of the many details of creating this meal, she’d taken care of one other thing—sorting out her thoughts. She needed a safe place and this was it. Nothing could be allowed to take that away from her. Especially not a man on a horse.

  They all took their places and without any warning, Abe bowed and said grace.

  It still startled Sally the way he did it. Father had always said, “Let us pray.” And waited for them all to fold their hands and bow their heads.

  Abe did things differently. Nothing wrong with that.

  He ate in silence for a few minutes, then, as he broke open another biscuit and drenched it in butter and jam, he said, “I hired a man to work on the barn. I want it converted to a proper garage. The yard could do with some cleaning up, too, so I gave him instructions to fix the fence out back, prune the apple trees and generally take care of the chores.”

  “I see.” Abe was one of a handful of people who could afford to pay someone to do repair work for them.

  “I don’t have time to show him around so perhaps you would do so. Give him access to the tools in the shed. Make him feel welcome. Perhaps offer him coffee in the middle of the afternoon. That sort of thing.”

  “Will he be taking meals with us?”

  “I shouldn’t think so. He lives close by.”

  She quickly did a mental inventory on the neighbors, wondering which one had been so favored by Abe.

  “I think he’s down on his luck. As a Christian man I feel it my duty to give him a helping hand.”

  That tidbit didn’t help her. Most of the families in town were having trouble making ends meet.

  He pushed back and reached for his hat. “He said he’d come over after lunch. It would please me if you helped him in any way you can.”

  Sally waited, expecting a name, but Abe headed for the door. “Wait. You didn’t say who was coming.”

  “Oh, didn’t I? Sorry. It’s Linc McCoy. He’s staying at his grandmother’s just next door.” He pointed toward the farm.

  Sally’s heart quivered. Linc was coming here to work? Abe expected her to help him? The man did strange things to her equilibrium. Things she didn’t like or welcome.

  Abe must have read her hesitation. “There have been cruel rumors about him in the past. This morning I saw Linc in the store asking after a job and overheard some not-so-kind-hearted women saying no one in town would hire the likes of him. Not a very Christian attitude in my opinion. I believe our church should do what it can to dispel such unkindness. As a deacon I intend to take the lead. I hope I have your support.”

  “Of course.” Thankfully her voice didn’t reveal her confusion. “It’s very noble of you to give this man a chance.”

  Her praise brought a pleased smile to Abe’s lips.

  Sally vowed she would do what she could to help Abe’s cause.

  Linc considered this job an answer to prayer—an opportunity to earn money to buy more medicine for Pa, but even more, the chance to prove a McCoy could be trusted. Grandmama seemed troubled by the job offer and warned Linc that Sally’s association with him, even indirectly, could harm her reputation. He understood her warning and was prepared to stay as far away from Sally as the large yard allowed. But Abe had told him to go to the house for instructions on where to find tools.

  He first toured the yard, noting all the things needing attention. Abe wanted the barn converted to a garage for his car. Linc went inside to study what it needed.

  “What are you doing here?” Robbie asked from the dark interior.

  “Looking.”

  “At what?”

  “The barn.”

  “You never seen a barn before?”

  “Oh, yeah. Lots of them. I could tell you all sorts of stories about barns.”

  “Nothing special about barns.”

  “Nope. Guess not. Seems a shame to take the stalls out though.”

  Robbie emerged from the shadows. “Why you going to do that?”

  “So your father can park his car in here.”

  Robbie made a rumbling noise with his lips. “I’d sooner have a horse.”

  “Me, too, little guy.”

  They stood side by side in shared sorrow at the way horses were being replaced with automobiles and tractors.

  Linc moved first. “I need to ask Miss Sally to show me the tools. Want to come along?”

  “Yep.”

  Linc wasn’t sure who needed the other the most. He, to keep his thoughts in order when he spoke to Sally, or Robbie, who seemed to crave attention, but together they marched to the back door. Robbie stood by his side as Linc knocked.

  Sally opened the door. “Mr. Finley said to expect you. He said I should show you what needs doing.”

  Linc backed up two steps. Robbie followed suit, though not likely for the same reason. Linc did it to gain a safety zone. Even so, he felt her in every muscle. She smelled like home cooking and fresh laundry, the most appealing scent he’d ever experienced.

  She slipped through the doorway. “I’ll show you around.”

  I’ve already looked about. The words were in his brain but refused to budge. Instead he nodded, and he and Robbie fell in at her side.

  She led him to the back corner of the yard. “Mr. Finley said the crab apple trees should be pruned.”

  Robbie climbed one of the trees and sat in a fork, pretending he had a spyglass as he looked out across the yard.

  Linc and Sally stood under the scraggly trees that were shedding the last of their blossoms and trying to bud, finding it difficult because of the lack of moisture. He examined the three trees. “Lots of dead branches that need to come out.”

  She nodded. “I figure they must be tough as an old cowhide to survive the drought and wind and grasshoppers. Especially the grasshoppers. The little pests have gnawed most of the trees to death around here.”


  “Then I guess they deserve lots of care.”

  He turned from examining the branches. She stood under a flowering bough. Their gazes collided. Her eyes were wide and watchful. Wary even. No doubt she had heard about the McCoys by now. “You know I’m Beatrice Shaw’s grandson?”

  She nodded. “My mother told me.”

  “Did she tell you about the McCoys?”

  Sally’s gaze never faltered. “She said your mother had died and you have a father and older brother.”

  “My brother is dead, too. In a mining accident.”

  “I’m sorry.” She brushed his arm with her cool fingers then jerked back, as if she was also aware of the tension between them.

  “Pa was injured, too. That’s why I’m here. To let him rest and recover.” He clung to the hope Pa would get better.

  “How is he?”

  “Not good.”

  “Again, I’m sorry. If there is anything I can do to help....”

  He stood stock-still, letting her concern filter through him. Not many around here knew of the accident. No reason to hide the fact but no reason to tell it either. He didn’t want or expect sympathy—just a fair chance to prove the McCoys were an okay bunch. Yet the way her eyes filled with regret and concern made him realize how much he wanted to share his sorrow.

  He leaned against a tree. “I was working on a ranch when I got word about the accident. Harris—that’s my brother—was killed outright. Pa was in terrible shape. I made arrangements to bury Harris.” He told her details of the funeral. “It was ten days before Pa was able to travel. The doctor out there said to take him home so he could die in his own surroundings. Grandmama’s place is the only home we’ve ever had so I brought him here.”

  She listened to his whole story without uttering a word, but murmuring comforting sounds.

  He fell silent, feeling a hundred pounds lighter having told her. Suddenly he jerked upright. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you the story of my life.”

  She laughed softly. “I expect there’s more to your life than that and I didn’t mind. Helps me understand.”

  He didn’t ask what it helped her understand, and she didn’t explain. Perhaps they both knew the answer without speaking it—his tale helped her understand him, just as sharing it helped him understand how kind and sympathetic she was. He had never before felt so comfortable with another human. Sure, he had unburdened himself to the occasional horse—Red heard lots of his woes—but never before to another person, and most certainly not to a woman.

  Grandmama warned him she was a genuinely gentle person. Now he understood what she meant.

  Guilt flared through his blood, searing his nerve endings. He glanced over his shoulder as if Grandmama watched.

  Chapter Three

  “Abe said you would show me where the tools are.”

  Linc’s words jerked Sally back to her responsibilities. “Of course.” She didn’t offer to show him the barn but marched toward the shed at the back of the yard. She paused as they reached the garden. Robbie followed at their heels and veered toward the hole he’d been digging this morning.

  She watched him and spoke her thoughts. “I’d like to plant a garden.”

  “I’ll dig the ground for you.”

  She thought of arguing. Would she look as if she couldn’t manage? On the other hand, his help would certainly make the work go faster. Still undecided about how she should handle his offer, she opened the door and stepped aside as he entered. But two feet of distance did not protect her from acute awareness of the warmth of his body as he passed, nor the scent of leather and freshly cut hay. And something more she could not identify, nor did she intend to try. But whatever it was made her feel as if a weight pressed against her chest, making her lungs reluctant to work.

  He took his time looking about, then emerged with a round-nosed shovel and a rake.

  She had thought long and hard about planting a garden. Well, actually she’d only thought of it this morning and decided growing a garden would prove to Abe she was efficient and capable. Her plan had been to dig the soil on her own, but suddenly accepting Linc’s offer to help seemed the wisest thing in the world. It would enable her to get the garden in sooner, which was good.

  When he told her about his father and brother, she sensed a man who valued his family above people’s opinions. She respected him for that.

  He strode to the edge of the garden and began turning over the soil.

  Robbie stood before the hole he’d dug. “You can’t touch my fort.” His expression dared anyone to do so. Sally knew he would fly into a rage if they did.

  Linc leaned on the shovel, his expression serious, and pushed his hat back to reveal a white forehead. Brown dirt dusted the rest of his face, and a thin layer wrapped about his pant.

  Sally smiled gently. The man could look as handsome in work-soiled clothes as in a polished and pressed suit.

  He nodded toward Robbie. “I respect a man who defends his property.”

  Robbie’s expression revealed confusion. “What’s that mean?”

  Linc scratched his hairline and seemed to consider his answer with due seriousness. “It means I think it’s a good thing you want to protect what you’ve made.”

  “It is?” Robbie suddenly stood up straighter. “I sure ’nough plan to do that.” He picked up a stick and brandished it like a weapon.

  Linc held up a hand. “Now hang on a minute. Did I threaten your fort? Did I say I was going to mow it down? No. I listened to your words. No need to get physical when your words work.”

  Robbie dropped his weapon.

  Linc returned to digging, his back muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his faded brown shirt.

  Sally stared. The McCoys had a reputation for taking things. What no one had said, perhaps had not noticed, was this McCoy had a way of giving things. He’d given Robbie the assurance his words could convey his desires. He’d given Sally a feeling of safety.

  Now why had she thought such a foolish thing?

  She spun around and stared at the house, as if it provided the answer to her question. Just because Linc knew what to say to Robbie to defuse his anger did not mean he offered safety. Safety meant a house. Assurance of staying in one place. Steady employment. Enough to eat.

  Her heart burned within her at a rush of other unnamed, unidentifiable things that safety and security meant. She grabbed the rake and smoothed the garden soil behind Linc.

  He turned. “I can do that.” His voice rang with amusement and so much more.

  She stopped and considered him. Did he think she needed protecting?

  No one had thought so since Father died, and a lump lodged in the back of her throat. She swallowed hard. “Is there something wrong with the way I’m doing it?” Confusion made her words sharp.

  He studied her, a grin slowly wreathing his face. “Can’t say as I ever considered there might be a right or wrong way to rake.” He leaned on the shovel and contemplated the idea. “I suppose if you had the tines upward. Or tried to use the handle—”

  Her tension disappeared and she laughed. “You’re teasing.”

  “Seems like a good idea if it makes you laugh. You should laugh more often, don’t you think?” Without waiting for her to say anything, he turned back to digging.

  She stared at his back. Didn’t she laugh often enough? Or was he saying he liked hearing the sound of her amusement? Perhaps liked making her happy? As she bent to resume raking, she tried to think how she felt about the idea. No one else seemed to care if she laughed or enjoyed life. Abe certainly didn’t. Seems all he cared about was if she kept his life orderly.

  There she was again, comparing Abe to another. It didn’t escape her troubled thoughts that this time it wasn’t her father but a man hired to do chores.

  She banged a clump of dirt with the rake, taking out her annoyance on the soil. She knew what she wanted and how to get it. And it wasn’t by comparing poor, unsuspecting Abe to every man she knew or met.<
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  Linc worked steadily up the length of the garden, turning over clumps of dry hard dirt. She followed, smoothing the soil for planting. Without rain she would have to baby the plants along with rationed bits of water, the same as she did at home.

  Neither spoke as they worked. Crows flapped overhead, cawing. The wind sighed through the grass and moaned around the buildings. Robbie yelled some sort of challenge to an unseen intruder. Sally paused to watch the boy.

  Linc had stopped, too, and grinned at Robbie’s play. Then turned his smile toward Sally, capturing her in a shiny moment.

  The amusement they shared made her eyes watery, and she turned away. The feeling was more than amusement but she refused to acknowledge it. She riveted her attention to Robbie.

  He leaped out of his dirt fort and charged at the invisible foe, brandishing the same stick he had waved at Linc. He turned, saw them watching and lowered his weapon. Then determination filled his eyes and he marched toward Sally, his stick held like a sword. “You are my captive. I will take you to my fort. You will stay with me until someone rescues you.” He shot Linc a narrow-eyed look.

  Sally backed away, uncertain how to respond.

  Linc straightened and grew serious. “Never fear, fair maiden. I will rescue you from your wild captor.”

  She giggled and allowed Robbie to shepherd her into his fort. The hole might be the right size for a five-year-old but barely accommodated her legs, so she stood awkwardly while Robbie guarded her from the solid ground of the garden. They were on eye level with each other, close enough that she saw the mixture of excitement and worry in his eyes. She understood how badly he wanted to play, yet couldn’t believe any adult would play with him. When had she ever seen Abe play with the boy? Never. When did she play with him? Almost never. Sure, she read to him. Gave him crayons and coloring books. Even helped him do jigsaw puzzles, but she had never romped with him. Why not? Father had played with her and her sisters. She could remember games of tag and hide-and-seek. He’d even taught them to play ball and croquet.