by Ford, Linda
“Wonderful. It’s going to be so special. Thank you for helping.” She reached across the table as if to squeeze his hand.
He bolted to his feet before she could make contact. “I’ll go speak to your pa right away.” He made it through the doorway before he took in a breath.
Macpherson readily agreed to Colt’s request for wood pieces, and Colt welcomed the excuse to spend the afternoon in the storeroom working on the toy.
He refused the invitation to join them for tea when the children wakened, using the excuse that he wanted to keep at the task, but he couldn’t refuse the call to supper without being rude.
Besides, he half suspected Becca would come looking for him and demand an explanation if he didn’t show up, and he had no reason except this whole setup was pushing him far beyond his safe borders. Sooner or later he would pay the price for agreeing to go along with her.
It was as certain as the dawn.
The only thing he didn’t know was whether or not he’d consider it worth it in the end.
Somehow he made it through supper without saying or doing anything to make anyone suspect the restlessness of his mind. He’d vowed to keep his attention off Becca. But despite his best intentions, he was often startled out of his determination by her quick laugh or something she said. Each time he glanced her way, he felt a flash of sunshine. He found it hard to keep his mind closed to such pleasures.
He’d never been so glad to see bedtime, and gladly settled the two kids in their bedrolls. Little Joe fussed every time Colt moved away, so he edged down between the pair and opened his book to study the illustrations. Becca and her pa remained at the table talking softly.
“Pa, the children are so sweet. They need to be loved and cherished. Like you and Ma cherished me.”
“I bless the day God brought you and your mother into my life.”
Colt knew Macpherson was her stepfather, though he would never have judged it by the affection between the two.
“Me, too.” Colt heard the smile in her voice.
“These children deserve as much.” Becca’s voice rang with feeling.
Macpherson sighed heavily. “Becca, remember your promise to your ma. A promise we both gave without reservation.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” No mistaking the resolve in her voice. And he thought he picked up on a thread of sorrow or perhaps regret, too. Of course, she would feel both at the thought of leaving her pa.
“Don’t get so involved with the kids that you regret your promise.”
“Pa, I’ll keep my promise. I have to.” Her voice rang with determination.
“Just be sure you don’t get sidetracked by other things.”
Colt closed his book and squirmed into his bedroll. Don’t get involved with a half-breed cowboy. Macpherson hadn’t said the words but they hung, unspoken, in the air...a reminder to Colt.
Becca would leave after Christmas. She’d take the children to the fort, and Colt would resume his journey to the isolated cabin where he’d spend his time caring for horses. That would take an hour or two of his day. And then what? His book. His own company. It had been enough most of his life.
But now it seemed empty, lonely, barren.
I’ll get used to it again, he vowed. He repeated the words over and over. He had almost fallen asleep when he was jarred alert by one child screaming and kicking. The other patted his cheek.
“Colt, Little Joe is scared.” Marie sounded frightened, too.
He scooted up and pulled Little Joe to his lap. “Hush, little guy. You’re safe and sound.”
“I want Mama.”
That he couldn’t provide. Nor could he convince Little Joe he was okay. The boy continued with his ear-splitting cries. And Marie sobbed quietly, pressing her face into his side.
He closed his eyes and sucked in air. He knew how to calm a horse, but was powerless to comfort this pair.
“Colt,” Becca’s voice came as a whisper from her bedroom. “Are you okay?”
No doubt she meant the kids. “They’re missing their folks, and I can’t seem to calm them.”
“Can I help?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Are you decent?”
He’d only taken his boots off to go to bed. He knew that’s what she meant, but he thought of far more. Was he decent enough to be around people like her? He wished the answer could be yes.
“I’m fully clothed.”
“I’m decent, too, so I’m going to help with the children.” She set a lit lamp on the table, and a golden glow touched the furniture. Then she appeared in his view. Her hair hung down her back in waves of gold.
He swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Nonsense. No one would expect me to ignore the cries of a child.” She moved closer and bent over them.
He pressed himself into the wall, but escape was impossible. Distance could not be gained.
“Come here, Little Joe. I’ll hold you.”
The boy held out his arms and cried, “Mama.”
“I’m not Mama, but maybe I’ll do.” She sank down beside Colt and hummed as she rocked the little guy.
Marie scrambled into Colt’s lap, buried her face against his shirt and cried quietly, in direct contrast to Little Joe.
He couldn’t deny them this bit of comfort. But if Macpherson—or anyone else—discovered him sitting with Becca after dark...
* * *
Becca cuddled Little Joe close and hummed a lullaby she remembered from her childhood. Little Joe cradled into her arms like he’d found home. He clutched a corner of the blanket. Within a few minutes he’d fallen asleep. Marie’s sobs quieted and she, too, seemed to return to the forgetfulness of sleep.
“Ma used to hum that tune,” she whispered to Colt. “It always soothed me, though now I can’t say for sure if it was the tune or simply the fact that Ma always patted or rubbed my back when she hummed it.” She told him how she lay in bed with the gripe at twelve, feeling like she wanted to die, and Ma had sat on the edge of the bed rubbing her back and humming.
“When Ma lay dying—” Her throat closed off temporarily. “I did the same for her.” Ma had seemed comforted by Becca’s efforts. Becca had found it soothing, as well.
“It sounds nice.”
“I miss her a lot.” She tried to imagine what it would be like not to have memories of a mother’s love. Or a father’s, either. Who had raised him? Where did he belong?
“’Spect you do.” He shifted. “You think they’ll stay asleep now if we put them back on their beds?”
“We can try and see.”
They shifted about and each lowered a child to their respective bedrolls. Little Joe protested in his sleep, and Becca again rubbed his back and hummed the lullaby until she was certain he was settled.
Colt stood by, watching.
Becca straightened to stand by his side and study the sleeping children.
“I hate to think of them going to the fort.” A pain twisted through her at the thought.
“They’ll survive.”
“I take it you talk from experience.”
“That and observation.” He backed away, went to the stove to lift a lid and add a hunk of wood.
She followed him and put a kettle of water on, as much to delay ending this evening as for any other reason.
“Colt, don’t you know anything about your parents?”
He shrugged, but she couldn’t believe it didn’t matter to him. “I suspect my father was a soldier who took advantage of an Indian woman. My earliest memory is of living with a native woman, but I knew I didn’t belong. I wondered if she was my mother. I know her husband didn’t much care for me.”
“What happened?”
“One day when the woman was out picking berries, he took me to
the fort and dropped me off at the gate.” He said the words with cold indifference, but she couldn’t believe he didn’t hurt.
“Did someone take you in?”
“Yes.” His one word said so little, and yet so much.
“But what?”
“They figured I was good enough to sleep in the barn and help with the horses.”
She touched his elbow, felt him tense. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to do with you.”
“Maybe not directly, but don’t we all share responsibility, and maybe blame, as to how others are treated?” Her thoughts shifted back to the two innocent, sweet children asleep only a few feet away. What was her responsibility? To take them to the fort. After that, their care was out of her hands. She ached clear through as she acknowledged the fact.
“I was fed and I liked the animals.”
Another bald statement that said so much more than the few words. “Didn’t anyone offer you a proper home?” The kettle steamed and she set it off the heat, wondering why she’d thought she should fill it.
He sighed. “Why are you asking so many questions about me?”
She tried to come up with a reasonable answer but couldn’t find one. “Because—” I care? Or was she simply curious? Or she could pretend it was about the children, which, in part, it was. “I’d like to have some idea of what will happen to Marie and Little Joe.”
He stared at the stove as if it hid a hundred secrets. “Why do you care so much what happens to two half-breed kids?”
She fell back a step at the harshness of his tone. “What difference does it make if they are Indian or white? People are people.”
“Easy for you to say when you’re white. Your family is white. You’re accepted in a white world.”
“I would hope—” she spoke slowly, enunciating each word carefully “—I would never be so narrow as to judge a person by the color of his skin. I think all people are created equal.”
“That kind of talk could land you in a lot of trouble.”
“It’s what I believe.” She realized he’d managed to sidetrack her from her original question.
“Colt.” She touched his arm again, felt again how he stiffened at contact that was barely there. “Did you spend your childhood in a barn taking care of horses? Who took care of you?”
“I mostly took care of myself.” He ground out the words as if each one hurt. “I learned to mind my own business. I learned to make myself useful while being invisible.”
Her heart near broke in two at the pain each word revealed. “No one loved you?”
He made a dismissive noise. “A kid who belonged to no one? To no race? I was glad to escape the anger most people expressed.”
She didn’t quite manage to muffle her cry, and he turned as if to see if the noise came from her.
“Colt, I’m so sorry. No one, child or adult, should be treated unkindly.”
“Noble philosophy, but someday you’ll learn that not everyone is created for love.”
She knew he tried to sound mocking...dismissive...but he failed. She heard the ache in his voice as clearly as if he had cracked open his chest and shown her his bruised and battered heart. Acting instinctively, she leaned close. Standing on tiptoe, she planted a kiss on his jaw. “Someday you’ll learn that everyone is.”
He jerked back and stared at her as if she had fallen through the roof and landed at his feet. “Are you crazy?”
“No one has ever suggested it.”
“Do you know what would happen if someone caught me kissing you?”
“You didn’t. I kissed you.”
“No one would believe that.”
She tipped her head and studied him. “What would happen?”
“I’d likely be lynched, or if people were charitable, I’d be run out of town.”
“Not if I had anything to say about it.” She was pleased with herself. She’d liked the feel of his rough whiskers on her lips as she kissed him. Even more, she liked breaking through his self-contained composure and seeing how deep his feelings flowed.
“Miss Macpherson, I think you should go to bed.”
She felt mischievous. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I shall leave.” He tried to edge around her in the direction of the door, but she didn’t budge and he was trapped unless he physically moved her aside. She could tell by the way he shuffled and twitched that he wouldn’t do that. He hesitated to even touch her.
“It’s dark. You can’t go out.”
“Might be safer than in here.”
She laughed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Not thinking of you so much as your father, or anyone else who thinks I’ve been a little too bold.”
“Fine. I’ll go to bed and leave you in peace. Besides, you can’t go because the children would be upset. Little Joe would deafen us with his cries of protest. And didn’t you promise to stay for Christmas?”
“A promise I regret.”
“How can you think of abandoning the children?” He flinched, and she realized her remark had cut deeper than she intended. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that you would do that.”
“However, it’s the truth.”
She held her tongue, though she might have pressed the matter.
He stared at her with dark, shuttered eyes. “Aren’t you going to your room?”
She nodded. “One more thing I must say. God loves you and wants you to be part of His family.”
He didn’t give any indication he heard, though she knew he had.
She grabbed the lamp and headed for her room. “Good night.”
Just as the door closed, she heard him whisper, “Good night.”
* * *
God loves you and wants you to be part of His family.
How could she be so certain? She almost convinced him.
Colt lay on his back staring up at the dark ceiling. He smiled crookedly. He’d told her more about himself in those few minutes than likely anyone else knew. His smile flattened, and he scrubbed his jaw where she had kissed him.
What if her father had seen it? Or anyone?
She simply had no idea how harsh people could be. If he hadn’t promised he’d stay until after Christmas, he would leave before she earned herself an undeserved reputation as an Indian lover, or worse.
Little Joe squirmed about and delivered a sharp kick to Colt’s ribs. Colt welcomed the pain. It was nothing compared to what adults would inflict if they thought he had eyes for a white woman. And he did. He smiled. Becca was a noble and idealistic young woman. Too bad she was white. If she were mixed blood, he might allow himself to think about her in friendlier terms.
Finally he slept. He was up and had the fire burning and the coffee boiling by the time Macpherson rose.
“You’re up early.”
“Hard to sleep with two kids tossing and turning.” Only he’d been the one unable to settle, his thoughts alternately accusing and rejoicing. A beautiful, decent woman seemed to like him. He knew well enough how foolish it was to let his thoughts follow that trail, so he pushed them away.
“Besides, I need to work on that toy.” Christmas was only two days away. And then this special time would be over. Becca and the children would take the stagecoach. He’d continue west to a lonely cabin.
Little Joe jerked to a sitting position. Saw Colt was not beside him and crunched up his face for a good cry.
Flinching at the thought, Colt crossed the floor and scooped up the little guy. “I’m right here.”
Little Joe wrapped his arms about Colt’s neck and hung on like his life depended on it. Colt closed his eyes against the pain of knowing he must say goodbye to these kids. If only he could offer them a home. But he was a homeless cowboy. He c
ouldn’t provide the supervision and care they needed.
Though he could sure enough give them the acceptance they might not find anywhere else.
Becca stepped from her room, her hair braided in a long plait that hung down her back, her blue eyes dancing with what he expected was joy, and a smile as wide as all his tomorrows.
“Good morning, Pa. Morning, children. Morning, Colt. Isn’t it a marvelous day?”
Colt could find no sound in his head but a grunt, and knowing it would make him sound dull and stupid, he kept silent.
Macpherson chuckled. “You’re a little ray of sunshine this morning. Any particular reason?”
“Thousands of them. I just love life. Always have. You know that. Besides, I have another day to enjoy being with you.” She kissed her pa on the cheek.
Her gaze captured Colt’s, and her eyes twinkled.
He couldn’t breathe. Surely she didn’t mean to start over with her inquisition. Or worse. What had she said?
Everyone was made for love. Did she intend to pursue the idea? His heart beat a frantic tattoo against his ribs, and for the life of him he couldn’t say whether it was fear or anticipation that made it hammer so hard.
Marie sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Is it morning?”
“Yes, dear. It is. Why don’t you help me make breakfast?”
Marie gave her brother a cautious look as she slipped from the blankets. “He sure cried loud last night.”
“That’s a fact,” Colt agreed.
Macpherson shifted his gaze from Marie to Colt. “The little fella cried? I never even heard him.” He directed his attention to Becca. “Did you?”
She bent over and helped Marie pull on her sweater, then grabbed a brush to fix Marie’s hair, but Macpherson waited for her answer.
“Yes, Pa. I heard them.”
Macpherson studied her. Did he suspect there’d been more to it? If he knew his daughter had kissed Colt, even if only on the chin—
Colt stiffened. He’d likely be leaving in the next minute.
