by Linda Ford
Soon it was time to bring the ponies up the hill. Linc slipped away, welcoming the chance to think. Having admitted to himself he loved Sally, he discovered his heart was capable of so much more than he had known. Even though his attention was on the children, he heard her voice, felt it surround his heart like a hug. Even without looking, he was aware of every move she made, almost as if something invisible—but tough as the strongest lariat—stretched between them. As he led the ponies he rehearsed what he would say to her.
Billy, the rowdiest of the kids, spotted Linc. “He brung us horses!” With a whoop echoing for miles, Billy headed directly for the ponies. Only the fact that the animals spent most of their lives in a circus, carrying rambunctious children on their backs day in and day out, kept them from reacting.
“Slow down, Billy,” Linc called. “You’ll scare them.”
The boy took one more step, then seemed to consider the consequences if he continued his headlong rush. “Can I help lead them?”
“Sure. Here. Take this rope.” He let Billy lead the second pony, knowing nothing short of a tornado would persuade it to leave the others.
The rest of the children waited noisily.
Sally organized the children, and Linc handed a pony off to each of his helpers. Little eight-year-old Sharon’s older brother, Andy, took one. Judd and Madge each took a pony, leaving Linc with the last.
“We’ll start with the oldest children.” Besides getting noisy Billy on one, Linc figured it would give the more nervous younger kids a chance to see how safe riding the ponies really was.
A little later, he looked at the kids lining up for a second ride. But by his count, only ten had ridden the ponies. He glanced around to find the missing two. A tiny girl sat under the lone tree in the yard, two fingers in her mouth. Her big blue eyes studied him across the space separating them.
Linc turned to Sally, who tried to persuade some of the children to return to the games. “Is that Emmy?”
Sally nodded. “She’s a fearful child. I don’t think she’ll get within shouting distance of these animals.”
The fear in the child practically scorched him from across the dusty grass. She pressed back, as shy as a fawn. “Here.” He handed the rope of his pony to Sally. “I’m going to talk to her.” He strode over and sat beside Emmy, his legs sticking out several feet in front of them. Sort of made him feel awkward and protective at the same time.
“Hi, Emmy.”
“Hi,” she mumbled around her fingers.
He put the child at about four or five. Awfully young to be without either mother or father. It took two hard swallows to get rid of the lump choking him. “You ever had a pet?”
The fingers came out of her mouth and she studied him, her eyes wide and hungry, making his throat tighten until he could barely breathe.
“Once I had a kitty. Miss Dolly. Before Mama and Papa and baby May died.” Tears pooled in her eyes and threatened to overflow.
If she cried, he would be sorely tempted to join her. Instead, he forced his voice to work. “Kitties are nice. Soft and cuddly.” He tore his gaze from the child’s and looked toward the ponies. Sally watched, her smile a little uncertain, and in that moment he knew they felt the same regret, the same sadness over the plight of little Emmy. Again it seemed something reached from his heart to hers, binding them together. He knew it was love. Two hearts beating as one. Two souls feeling as one.
“I miss Miss Dolly,” Emmy whispered on a shudder.
He guessed Miss Dolly was not the only thing she missed, and his heart twisted so tight he wondered it could still beat. “One of those ponies over there is hoping a little girl named Emmy will choose to be his friend.”
She shifted her attention. “They’re awfully big.”
“Nah. They’re not that much bigger than a full-grown kitty.”
Emmy laughed, a sweet tinkling sound. “Kitty that big would sure scare away the mice.”
Linc let out a roar of laughter. The little one had a sense of humor hidden behind her fear. Who’d have guessed it?
Sally’s eyebrows came up, as if asking to share the joke.
Linc bounced to his feet and held out his hand to Emmy. “Come on. I’ll show you what nice pets they are.”
Emmy considered the ponies, considered his hand then stared into his eyes.
He let her see that he meant her no harm…that he liked her and wanted to help her, wanted to be friends.
Holding his gaze in trust, she took his hand and walked to the ponies. Allowing Sally to continue holding the lead rope, he picked up Emmy, amazed at how little she weighed. “Now this here is Pat the pony. He likes being petted.”
Pat hung his head and never so much as twitched a muscle as Linc rubbed his hide and scratched behind his ears.
“See. Just like a big cat.”
Emmy giggled and reached out one tiny hand, but quickly drew it back and buried her head against Linc’s neck.
He had never known anything half so sweet as the feel of the little girl in his arms. He met Sally’s gaze and knew from the look in her eyes that she guessed his reaction, and he wondered if it would make it easier for her to accept his confession of love. Perhaps in the future he would hold a tiny girl like this with a mop of curly hair and big hazel eyes like Sally’s.
He pushed back a rush of emotions and turned his attention back to sweet little Emmy, who gave him blue-eyed consideration. They studied each other for several seconds, then she smiled. He smiled back. Mighty good thing she couldn’t read his mind, because if she could, she’d know she could have asked him for the moon at that moment, and he would have tried to rope it and give it to her.
“Why don’t you sit on old Pat’s back for a moment? He’ll think you don’t like him if you refuse.”
Emmy considered Pat’s sad appearance which, in Pat’s case, was a permanent state. “Okay. But you have to keep hold of me.”
“I will. I promise.” He perched her on Pat’s wide back, his hands around her waist.
She clutched his arms.
He lifted his gaze to Sally’s across the horse. Let her see how much he enjoyed holding Emmy and protecting her. Let her see all that his heart held…hope for a future full of love and little children. Shared with her.
Her eyes widened and turned pine green. Her cheeks blossomed pink roses. She opened her mouth. Closed it again and jerked away to stare across the yard.
Emmy squeezed his arm hard. “’Nough.”
He turned his attention back to the child and lifted her from the horse. She clung to him, her feathery hair tickling his nose.
But one more child had still not ridden a pony. “There’s someone missing,” he told Sally.
She glanced about. “Claude Knowles. He was here earlier playing beanbag toss. I wonder where he’s gone.”
Billy overheard them. “Claude’s a big crybaby. He’s probably hiding inside ’cause someone laughed when he missed every single hole in the game.” He made a sound of derision. “He should have been a little girl.”
Linc handed Emmy to Sally and squatted down to Billy’s eye level. “Son, it pains me something awful to hear you made a younger child unhappy.” Billy’s expression grew hard. If Linc didn’t miss his guess, the boy meant to make someone pay for Linc’s reprimand. He didn’t want to be responsible for that happening. “I had a big brother. Harris was his name. He spent hours teaching me how to bat a ball. He taught me how to skate and showed me how to pretend sword fight.”
Billy’s eyes lit up at the mention of sword fights.
Linc knew he had to do more damage control. “We only used little bits of wood and never ever hurt anyone. My point is, my brother helped me learn to do stuff I didn’t know how. Probably would have never learnt if not for him.”
Billy considered him curiously. “So where is your brother now?”
“Billy, I buried him a few weeks ago. He was killed in a mining accident.” He wiped his hand across his face. “He was a good big brother.
I will always miss him.”
Nodding sympathy, Billy turned away.
Linc could only hope and pray Billy would choose to help the younger ones in the home rather than mocking them.
“I’m going to see if I can find Claude.” He let himself enjoy Sally’s wide approving smile, then turned away to search for the boy.
Matron assured him Claude was not in the house, so he circled the yard and found the boy nearly invisible as he pressed to a wooden box in a corner near the road, where he could observe the activities from a very safe distance.
He sat beside the boy. “Claude. You gonna join the others?”
“No.”
“Miss Sally and I sure would like it if you did. And there’s a pony waiting to give you a ride.”
“I prefer not to ride a pony, thank you.”
“Okay. But maybe you can tell me why not.”
“Don’t care to.”
Linc considered the statement, but discovered he didn’t believe it. “Fine, but everyone gets a turn.”
“I don’t want a turn. Thank you, anyway.”
Linc got to his feet, walked up the little hill, took the pony from Sally and led him to Claude. He sat beside Claude again with the pony’s lead rope in his fist. “Everyone gets a turn. It’s up to you how you use it. You can ride or not.”
Claude didn’t answer, though Linc felt his careful, guarded study of himself and then the pony.
In a few minutes, Linc got to his feet. “Time for everyone to get a second turn.” He hoped Claude would realize Linc included him.
Sally waited until he had one of the children on Pat’s back to whisper, “What was that all about?”
“He’s ready for adventure but needs a little encouraging.”
He gave all the children another ride, let Emmy sit on Pat’s back with Linc’s hands holding her, then took the pony down to Claude again. Still Claude didn’t move.
Another round of rides. This time Emmy allowed Sally to lead the pony a few steps, so long as Linc remained at her side.
As soon as Emmy was done, Linc took the lead rope and went to Claude. Before he got there Claude bolted to his feet. “I’ll ride.”
“Up you go then.” He lifted the boy, pleased at the look of triumph on the child’s face. His gaze connected with Sally’s, and a bolt of joy shot up his spine at her blatant approval. Then she glanced away, as if aware of how much she’d silently communicated.
He hoped she wasn’t wishing she could take it back, and pressed tight to his heart the sweet knowledge of how she felt.
They spent the next two hours giving the children rides. Several times he caught Sally watching him. As soon as she saw that he saw, she looked away, pretending to be terribly busy with something else. But not so fast that he didn’t see a flash in her gaze that made him wonder what she was thinking and when she would tell him. He almost laughed aloud at the sweet assurance that she seemed more aware of him than she might be willing to admit.
Later, she’d meet his pa. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted it until now. He didn’t want to be an outsider anymore. He wanted to be accepted by the community as an equal. A person to be respected. He wanted to be accepted by Sally, her friends and family.
Sadly, he guessed, unless he achieved such acceptance, Sally would continue to have doubts about him. Security was so important to her and meant more than a permanent address. It included things such as safety, a solid job and a secure position in society.
And yet, what more could he do than what he was doing? Live an honorable life. Attend church. Help others. Lord God, help people to see that I am a good man. God accepted him. So did his grandmother. But it was no longer enough.
The ponies were tiring. “Time to let them rest.”
“Aw. One more ride,” Billy begged. The others anxiously but silently added their request.
“’Fraid not. But why don’t you see what Sally has in the car for you?”
As they turned her direction, she laughed and raced them to the car, arriving seconds ahead of the older children. She stood, her back to the car, and waited for the younger ones to catch up and for the adults to join them. Her face glowed with joy and her curls bounced around her head.
Linc handed the ponies off to the others, who were to take them back to the shelter and feed and water them. Then he jogged over to help Sally. He edged past the children and stood shoulder to shoulder with her at the side of the car. For a moment, he let himself swim in the pleasure of her nearness, her warm skin against his, her wildflower and cinnamon scent filling his senses.
The children pressed closer, reminding him of where his thoughts belonged. “Okay, you lot. Back up two steps and sit in a semi-circle.”
They tripped over each other as they obeyed.
Linc took Sally’s hand, telling himself it was necessary in order to pull her to one side. He didn’t believe it, but perhaps the others did. He opened the door and handed her the wrapped dolls to distribute to the girls. He took the wrapped trucks and passed them to the boys. Then he and Sally leaned against the warm side of the car, their shoulders again touching, and watched the children unwrap presents.
He loved the expressions of joy on each face. “They really like the gifts.”
“Not often they get something for no reason.”
“Then I’m glad they learned there doesn’t have to be a reason to do things for people we care about.” He wasn’t sure what he was talking about, except it wasn’t only about the children. Did she hear the way his voice caught in his throat as he mentally put her on top of the list of people he cared about? Could she tell he meant to do everything in his power to make her happy?
The children were about to move away to play with their toys. “Hang on a minute.”
Sally grinned at him—sending his heart into full gallop—as they pulled the dollhouse from the car, hidden under a draped sheet. “Katie, do you want to take off the cover?”
The tiny girl with a tangle of blond hair shyly came forward. She pulled off the sheet and stared at the dollhouse. It was the oldest girl, Maddie, who said, “It’s a dollhouse.”
The girls oohed and aahed as they gathered round to examine it. Soon they were putting their dolls in various rooms.
The boys looked disappointed. “Who wants an old dollhouse?” Johnny muttered.
Linc chuckled. “It’s a new dollhouse. But you boys get to keep the wooden horse and cow and the bean bag game. You can practice riding and roping and tossing beanbags.” Whooping their joy, they raced back to play.
Linc sighed. It felt so good to bring joy to these children.
Sally moved to his side. “It’s great to see them enjoy themselves.”
“It is indeed.” He readily admitted he got as much pleasure out of sharing the day with her as in seeing the children have such fun.
Judd had slipped away a few minutes ago and now returned, Mrs. Morgan beside him in his car.
“Here’s Mother with the cake.” Sally hurried to help her.
Linc’s heart dropped to the soles of his feet. Mrs. Morgan made no secret of her disapproval of him. She nodded a sober-faced greeting to him and favored the others with a wide smile. The children called, “Hello, Mrs. Morgan.”
“I wonder if they’ll be able to tear themselves away from the toys to eat cake,” Madge said.
The matron laughed. “I doubt we’ll have to call them twice.”
A table had been carried outdoors. Sally placed the cake on it and called, “Who wants cake?”
Linc laughed when the children left their toys immediately.
Sally laughed, too, and he allowed himself to glance at her. Their gazes caught, full of shared warmth and something more. Something he hoped went far deeper than pleasure over the children. Something that would meet the deepest needs of his heart and allow her to admit her love for him because, more and more, he was convinced she loved him even if she didn’t yet acknowledge it.
Mrs. Morgan nudged Sally and she jerked
away, suddenly very interested in adjusting the cake so it was precisely in the middle of the table.
Linc shifted his gaze to meet Mrs. Morgan’s warning stare. He held steady for a heartbeat, silently informing her he would not be intimidated, and then he turned to watch the children who each ate two pieces of cake then dashed back to their play. The adults lingered over their thinner slices, served with tea.
“This was a great party,” the matron said. “Thanks to Sally and Linc for their hard work.”
The assembled adults clapped.
Linc grinned at Sally, not caring if his look was tender, telling. Let Mrs. Morgan think what she wanted. Let the others speculate. “We’re now old hands at this, so if anyone wants to reserve our services for a future party…” Sally’s eyes darkened, warning him not to go too far. “Well, I’m sorry to say we won’t be available.”
Judd clapped him on the back. “How long are you hanging around?”
The question, innocent enough, reminded Linc they all saw him as transient. Perhaps hoped for it. “I’ve no plans.”
Mrs. Morgan didn’t sniff. Yet her expression said as much as if she had. A man with no future.
He didn’t mean it that way. “I can’t make plans until I see how my father does.”
Judd murmured sympathy. “Sally says he isn’t doing well.”
“I hope and pray he will get better, but the doctor doesn’t offer any encouragement.”
Sally turned to him, her eyes awash in understanding. “I can’t imagine how difficult it is for you. I remember when my father died. It was hard to watch him go downhill, but at least he didn’t linger for ages in pain. I guess, in hindsight, I should be grateful.”
Her concern touched him in a spot deep inside that he had not been aware of until this very moment—a tender spot that welcomed the balm of her sympathy.
The others remained quiet, as if lost in their own sorrow.
Madge broke the silence with a long sigh. “I miss him a lot.”
They drew together to hug each other, Mrs. Morgan in their midst.
Linc stood outside the circle. He was tired of being on the outside looking in. He wanted more—to be accepted, to belong, to matter. To be part of a family.
