“We aren’t going to argue, are we?” He smiled; he guessed it looked as if it required a bit of effort, which it did. Why must she be so prickly when all he wanted to do was help her so she’d get out of his hair?
Clara sucked in air as though she’d forgotten to breathe for a bit. “That is entirely up to you.”
“Me? I never wanted to argue in the first place. Why don’t you just come along quietly and enjoy the nice meal Bonnie has made?”
“Mama,” Libby began.
“Hush.” Clara held up a hand to silence her little daughter.
Blue’s smile came more easily when he saw Libby tip her head and glance at the ceiling as if seeking patience from someone up there.
“Very well. But after tonight, I must find a way of taking care of us without…without accepting charity.”
“You mean without accepting help.” He thought to say more about the trouble this stubborn pride would cause her, but she hustled the girls into their coats, grabbed her own and gave him a challenging look. “Well?”
“Well, what?” What was wrong with the woman?
“Are you going to stand there blocking the door?”
“Course not.” He stepped aside, feeling as if he’d lost the ability to think rationally. He ground his molars together. The sooner he got this troublesome woman out of his hair, the better.
He followed her across the yard and into the Mortons’ kitchen, then stopped dead as he realized he’d just insisted they sit at the same table as he. He grunted, bringing Eleanor’s attention to him.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Blue? Somethin’ hurting you?”
“No. I’m fine.” He could hardly tell this innocent beauty that what was hurting was his way of life. He was a loner, and she and her sister and mother were tromping all over his plans to remain that way.
He had left the ranch to work at the church so he could be alone and shut his mind to everything but the task at hand. Summer was easier as he always asked Eddie to send him to the farthest line cabin and he spent weeks alone with the cows and wildlife. Winter was harder as he had to be at the ranch, where most of the men were hunkered down for the winter. Too many talkative cowboys. Too many cowboys with wives who liked to talk.
“I’m delighted you chose to join us.” Bonnie took Clara and the girls’ coats, then led Clara to the table. “It really bothered me to think of you cramped up in the crude little shack with nothing to eat.” She chuckled. “Though that’s where Claude and I spent the first few weeks we were here.” She indicated the girls should sit on either side of their mother, then turned to Blue. “Join us.”
He shed his coat and stared at the place Bonnie indicated. Right across from Clara. He shrugged. So what? In an hour or less, he’d return to the church and finally find the solitude he had come in search of.
Claude joined them and said a quick grace. Bonnie passed around a platter of roast pork, a bowl of mashed potatoes, cooked carrots and thick slices of fresh bread.
“Oh, Mama.” Libby stared at her plateful of food. “This is like eating at Grandfather’s.”
“Better,” Eleanor added. “We’re allowed to sit with the grown-ups.”
“Girls, mind your manners.” Clara spoke quietly, and Blue thought she seemed tense.
Libby nodded. “I know we’re not supposed to tell people our business, but that was okay, wasn’t it?”
Clara smiled. It seemed a bit forced to Blue. “Just eat your meal.” She turned to Bonnie. “This is very good, and we’re most grateful.”
Bonnie looked pleased. “I love cooking, but there haven’t been many travelers through here of late. So nice to have you folks with us.” She paused thoughtfully. “Where are you planning to go? Is someone coming for you?”
Clara shot the girls warning looks before she answered. “We’re waiting for someone.”
Bonnie’s eyebrows went up with obvious curiosity, and Clara quickly added, “I’m afraid I can’t say anything more.”
A startled silence filled the room.
Claude cleared his throat. “Glad you’re going to make those pews, Blue.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He couldn’t wait to get back to the church.
They ate in strained silence for a few minutes.
Bonnie tried again. “Do you girls have enough to occupy yourself over there?”
“Mama’s reading to us from the Bible,” Libby said, edging forward on her seat as if eager to talk about what Clara read. “It’s the story of the Israelites. They’re running from—” She turned to Eleanor. “Who are they running from?”
“From Egypt.” Eleanor watched her sister as if amused at her intensity.
Libby nodded. “Just like we’re—”
Clara’s hand came down on Libby’s shoulder, making her swallow the rest of what she meant to say.
Blue studied the child. Libby merely sucked in a deep breath and started talking again. “I like your house,” she said to Bonnie. “It’s nice. I like the one you lent us, too. It’s—” Again she consulted her sister. “What is it, El’nor?”
“Cozy and warm.”
“Yes, warm. Mama, where are we going to sleep?”
“I explained that already. There’s plenty of room on the floor for our bedrolls.” She turned to Bonnie and then Claude. “I’m so grateful for your generosity. Is there something I can do to repay you? Help with meals, do laundry…?” Her voice trailed off as a glance around the room proved Bonnie didn’t need any help.
Bonnie touched the back of Clara’s hand. “If we were busier, I would gladly accept your help. But as you see, we aren’t busy. No, you accept the use of that little shack as long as you need it. You’ll be doing us a favor.”
Clara’s eyebrows rose in frank disbelief.
“Yes. You see, when we first came to these parts, I was so sick I couldn’t go on.”
“I was very worried about her,” Claude said.
Bonnie smiled gently at her husband. “Cassie—she’s Mrs. Jones now—had just built this house after spending many weeks in that shack you’re in. With four children if you can imagine it. Of course, it was summer and the children could run and play outside.” She smiled around the table. “She let us use that shack until I was strong enough to continue. So you see, you are allowing us to show our gratitude by extending the same courtesy to someone else.” Bonnie beamed as if the idea pleased her.
Blue saw by the set of Clara’s mouth that she was somewhat less pleased.
When the meal ended, Clara began to gather up dishes. “Let us do the washing up at least.”
Bonnie hesitated. “Very well, if it will make you feel better. I’ll go ahead and set the bread dough.”
Clara hustled about, carrying dishes to the pan of hot water that Bonnie had prepared. She handed drying towels to the girls, and they carefully wiped every dish as she washed it.
Blue wanted nothing more than to hustle back to the church and settle down in his own little world, but first he’d make sure Clara and the girls were safely back at the shack and the fire was banked for the night.
Clara hung the towels and dumped the dishwater in the bucket.
“Thank you again.” She looked at her hands, then toward Bonnie.
“Is there something you need?” Bonnie asked. “If so, just ask.”
“Could I borrow a pot to boil water in so I can wash the girls?”
“Why, of course.” Bonnie drew one from the bottom cupboard. “I apologize for not thinking of it myself. You’ll need a bucket, too.” She handed one to Clara.
Clara slowly raised her hand to take it. Pink stole up her cheeks.
Did she think help came with strings attached? Out here in the west, lending a helping hand to friends, neighbors and strangers alike was the way life was lived.
She stammered her thanks. “Come along, girls.”
As she prepared to leave, Blue grabbed his coat and followed.
Outside the door she turned her back and headed for the shack
.
He knew she meant to dismiss him, but he followed on her heels. “I’ll get some more firewood for you.”
She spun around. “No need. I can do it.”
He didn’t stop until he reached the woodpile and began to load his arms. “You remind me of a two-year-old. I can do it myself.” His son, Beau, especially had been so stubbornly independent.
Blue straightened and stared into the dark trees. He had this woman to blame for making him think of his boy toddling about, refusing help.
Clara grabbed an armload of wood. “I could cook for us.”
“What would you cook? It appears you have no food, no supplies, no money. Nothing but a huge amount of pride.” He sighed impatiently. “Don’t let your pride make you stubborn.”
She was close enough that even in the dusky light he could see how hollowed out her eyes grew. “You keep accusing me of pride, and it’s not that at all.”
“Then what is it? What are you running from?”
“Not what.” The words crept from her throat, soft yet full of anguish. “Who.”
“Who?”
She flung him a dismissive, angry look. “I’ve said far too much.” She spun around again and stomped to the shack. The girls chased each other through the shadows.
Blue followed her inside, dumped the wood in a pile by the stove and lifted the lids to check the coals. He strategically added several pieces of wood and adjusted the damper.
She studied him, her arms crossed over her chest, her mouth set in a fearsome scowl. “I can do that, you know.”
“I expect you can.” Satisfied the fire wouldn’t burn too hot during the night, he turned to face her. His sudden movement filled her eyes with surprise, but to her credit she did not back away. “But I never take chances with fires.”
They considered each other unblinkingly. He couldn’t say what she thought she saw in his eyes, but he guessed he saw a couple of things in hers—her constant guardedness underlined by fear, a strong dose of protectiveness. Then she blinked, and he knew she thought she’d learned something about him.
He edged past her and hurried out the door. He’d revealed far too much of himself this day. Far more than he meant for anyone to know about him. He couldn’t pull back the words that had spilled from his mouth. Couldn’t even say why they had. For two years he’d never mentioned his children or the fire that had taken them, yet in a matter of hours he’d said enough for Clara to begin putting the pieces together.
From now on he would say no more. He could only hope she would soon be on her way to wherever she was going and leave him to forgetfulness.
*
Clara stared at the door as it closed behind Blue. My, what a strange man. So cautious about fires. Yes, it paid to be careful, but he acted as if he expected the place to burst into flames.
She shuddered and glanced at the canvas roof overhead. Was it likely to ignite? She looked at the crates between where she meant to sleep and the door. Blue had her all nervous. Perhaps that was a good thing.
The girls hadn’t come inside yet. Their voices rang out in the growing dusk. While they were gone, she’d rearrange things. She pulled the boxes from near the door. At least if there was a fire, she could get out. Then she took the bucket Bonnie had lent her and went to the pump to fill it with water. She placed it on the table within handy reach.
Maybe she should thank Blue for making her so conscious of the danger. She pressed her hand to her chest in a futile attempt to slow the pounding of her heart. Or she should scold him for alarming her.
Her daughters dashed in and skidded to a stop.
Eleanor looked around. “You moved stuff. How come?”
“It’s a little more convenient this way.”
“Where’s Mr. Blue?” Libby asked.
“He’s gone.”
Libby drooped. “But, Mama, I thought he’d stay.”
“Of course he can’t. Why would you think such a thing?”
Libby sank to her bedroll. “No one ever stays.” She made it sound as if she were alone in the world.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Our father died.”
“That’s not the same. He was sick and wasn’t going to get better.”
“I know. Then we left. I miss Mary.”
She meant the gardener’s little daughter. At her father’s, Clara had often taken the girls outside to play, and they had become friends with the girl.
“I know you miss her. I’m sorry. But not everyone leaves. I’m not leaving.”
Libby gave her a look of disbelief. “Of course not. You’re our mama.”
Clara laughed. It was good to know Libby trusted her so implicitly. “Soon we’ll find a place where we can stay and settle down.” And be safe.
Libby nodded. “For Christmas. Right?” She gave Clara a trusting look, then turned toward Eleanor. “God will answer our prayer for a new—”
A silent message passed from Eleanor to Libby, and the younger child clamped her mouth shut.
Clara pressed down alarm at Libby’s trusting expectation. God, please don’t let me fail this child.
Eleanor turned to Clara. “Did God send plagues to Grandfather?”
“Why on earth would you think that?” Maybe she’d quit reading Exodus. The girls took it so literally and applied it to their situation.
“’Cause Grandfather said he would never let us go. Just like Pharaoh.”
Clara tried to think how to respond. How could she explain the situation to them without giving them cause for alarm? Without saying things that Libby would inadvertently blurt out at the most inopportune times? “I’m your mother. I’m the one who decides what’s best for you.”
Eleanor nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.
“I’d like to see Grandfather’s house full of frogs.” Libby pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Girls, it’s time to get ready for bed.” She’d earlier filled the borrowed cooking pot from the borrowed bucket and it heated on the borrowed stove in the borrowed shack.
Borrow. Borrow. Borrow. The word went round and round inside her head. Father would surely see it as failure and use it as proof she couldn’t provide for her children.
She washed the girls as well as she could and heard their prayers. They whispered and giggled for a bit once they lay on their bedrolls. She caught the word Christmas several times, and every time the weight of it increased. Only a few weeks until the day they both looked forward to. Would she be able to keep her promise and provide them a home in time?
Only with God’s help. She’d about run out of opportunity and strength to do anything on her own.
Later, after the girls fell asleep, she explored her options. Bonnie and Claude fed her and provided this place of shelter. She must find a way to repay them.
And she just might be able to do it.
If Blue didn’t prove difficult.
The next morning, she was ready to go to the house for breakfast when Bonnie called. She cautioned the children before they left. “Now, girls, don’t eat too much. And for goodness’ sake, don’t chatter too much.”
Blue crossed the yard as they exited the shack.
Libby rushed up to him. “Carry me.”
He looked surprised for a moment, then swung her into his arms.
“Libby!” She hadn’t thought to warn her daughter against that.
“It’s okay, Mama. Isn’t it, Mr. Blue?” Libby grinned from her perch.
“She’s not heavy.”
Clara wasn’t concerned that he might find her too much of a weight. She was worried that Libby had attached herself to this man so completely after bemoaning the fact that everyone left. Or they left everyone. Libby should be prepared for leaving Blue soon.
They reached the house, and he set Libby on her feet.
Clara wanted to say something, warn him not to encourage her daughter, but now was not the time.
Claude asked God’s blessing
on the food, and then they dug in to the generous breakfast—biscuits fresh from the oven, canned peaches, oatmeal porridge. A very satisfying meal.
Blue rose as soon as he was done. “I’ve got work to do.” He paused and looked at Clara. “Do you need anything?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Must he continually treat her as if she couldn’t do a thing on her own? “I’ll be sure and let you know if I do.”
Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. He blinked and then a slow, teasing grin filled his face. “Yeah, I’m sure you will.” He jammed his hat on his head and, chuckling, left the house.
Claude followed on his heels.
Bonnie stared after the pair. “Well, I’ll be.” She shook her head. “I believe that’s the first time I’ve heard Blue laugh. He’s a real loner, you know.”
Sure couldn’t prove it by her, Clara thought as she turned to wash the dishes. Wouldn’t a loner leave her alone? And Blue didn’t.
She finished the dishes, hung the towels to dry and bid Bonnie goodbye. Time to proceed with her plans.
Chapter Four
Blue cut the piece of lumber. The smell of the wood filled his senses. As his mind consumed it, he felt himself drowning in the present. That was his way of forgetting the past and ignoring the future. Later he’d sweep up the sawdust that fell at his feet and burn it, enjoying yet another scent. He shifted his mind to the process necessary to complete a pew. Measure, cut, fit, secure, sand, polish. Each step held comforting details to occupy his thoughts.
The outer door clattered open. Now what? Who’d have thought being alone would be so difficult?
Eleanor and Libby rushed into the room, bringing with them a cloud of cold air. Clara followed.
Blue leaned back on his heels and studied them. He saw the determination in Clara’s face and stiffened his spine in preparation for whatever complaint she meant to voice.
“I’ve decided.” She nodded as if to persuade herself.
His eyebrows went upward. What had she decided? And did she plan to tell him? He guessed she did or she wouldn’t be there, facing him with such a fierce look.
“I’m going to help you.”
His mouth fell open, and he snapped it shut.
Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set Page 71
