by Linda Ford
“What is this?” Abel sounded confused.
“I believe it’s a work bee,” she replied from behind him.
Abel jerked back, forcing Mercy to sidestep. He grabbed her arm. “Whose idea is this?”
“I think it’s Eddie’s. Why?”
“I can’t accept all this help.”
She grinned at him. “Try telling that to all those men. They’ve come to help because they know you need it and deserve it.”
“But they hardly know me.”
“You’re a friend and a neighbor. That’s all that matters. I’ve learned that out west people pull together. It’s one of the best things about this country.” That, and the freedom allowed woman.
Abel stared at the men, who were now dismounting. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’d suggest you go out there and welcome them and thank them.” She shoved him in the right direction.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”
“Nope. Not a soul. Best if you don’t either.”
Chuckling, he crossed to Eddie’s side.
The sun shone warm and bright. The light breeze stirred the treetops. The air sang with the smell of autumn leaves and woodsmoke.
Mercy watched the men with a smile on her face. It was going to be a fine day.
Eddie clapped Abel on the back and indicated the men. Each carried an ax or saw or hammer or sometimes two or three tools.
The children joined Mercy and she explained the men had come to put up a new cabin for them.
“Like Papa wants?” Ladd asked.
“Exactly like your papa wants.”
They asked to watch. “Put on your coats and stay close. I don’t want you getting in their way.”
She would like to watch, too, but she had work to do.
She browned meat and peeled vegetables for a stew. Linette had informed her the men would bring their own lunches, but she meant for Abel and the children to have a hot, nourishing dinner.
As the stew simmered, she slipped outside to check on the twins. They sat against the cabin watching the beehive of activity. Some of the men shaped logs, chips of wood flying in every direction as the axes rose and fell. The aroma of new wood filled the air.
Others peeled new logs, the bark peeling off in long strands.
A crew laid logs into place. Already she could see the shape of the cabin. It would be considerably larger than the current one. Roomy enough for a family.
Families had needs. She turned back inside and set to work wiping the logs of the old cabin. Even if it wouldn’t be a home for them much longer, they deserved the cleanest, warmest, best-run home in the country.
But again and again, she was drawn to the door to see how the building progressed.
She looked for Abel. He stood by Eddie discussing something. She nodded her satisfaction. Knowing about Abel’s injuries, especially the blow to his head, Eddie would somehow divert Abel from doing anything heavy.
Returning indoors, she glanced around. What did a person—a housewife—do in such small quarters? Normally Monday meant laundry, but the morning had flown by. It was too late to start washing clothes. However, she could prepare to do it tomorrow and she went outside to retrieve the copper boiler hanging on the side of the cabin. Still, if she put it on the stove now, the water would half boil away before morning. With a sigh, she hung it back on the nail.
“What are you doing?”
Abel’s voice came unexpectedly from behind her, sending her blood to her heart in such a hurry she gasped. She turned slowly. “I was thinking about laundry.”
“You seem restless. It’s not necessary for you to be here. I can watch the children.”
Was the man blind? How could he have so completely misinterpreted the change in her? “Oh, no. I’ve no place else to be. Nothing else I want to do.”
He didn’t speak. Didn’t nod or shake his head. He simply studied her, his eyes revealing nothing more than confusion. “Why have you been avoiding looking at the new cabin?”
She rubbed a spot on her nose and slowed her breath. All the while she’d been trying to prove she could be a good and efficient housewife, he’d been thinking she wasn’t interested in the construction work. “I’ve been busy. That’s all.”
“In that case, why don’t you come over now and have a look.” He crooked his elbow toward her as if she needed assistance crossing the yard. Let him think so. She tucked her hand about his arm and let him lead her.
“It’s much bigger and will be sounder than the little cabin. There will be a bedroom, kitchen and living room.” He pointed out where each would be. “The loft will have two rooms for the twins.”
She could see it all. The table and chairs there. A wide bed there. The cupboards and stove over there. Little beds with bright quilts in the loft. In fact, she saw it much too clearly. She saw herself at the table rolling out biscuits, at the stove stirring a pot, smoothing the bedding on all three beds. She even pictured herself making the quilts for each of the twins’ beds.
She shouldn’t have come with him. Shouldn’t have listened to his description of the rooms.
“I can’t quite decide where to put the window in the kitchen.” He stared at the area meant for that room. “Is it better by the door, do you think?”
She saw it over the table. But before she could answer, he spoke again.
“I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t matter to you. You’ll soon be on your way to join a show.” He patted her hand as it lay on his arm. “I just—”
“Abel,” Slim called. “Show me where the wall will go.”
“Be right there.” He removed his arm so her hand fell to her side. “Feel free to look around.”
But her thoughts burned within her. How much clearer could he be than to remind her that she’d said she planned to be a trick roper and rider? Had he even realized she’d changed her mind?
It was up to her to make him see it. She glanced at the shape of the future cabin, then returned to the present one.
She stepped inside and leaned against the door. As she reviewed what had just happened, she groaned. She hadn’t even asked him how he felt. How did that prove anything but selfishness?
Straightening, she squared her shoulders. She could change and she would. He’d soon be able to see it clearly.
*
Although Abel paid attention to each word Slim spoke, he knew every step Mercy took back to the cabin. His thoughts moved a little slower today because of his headache, but Mercy was different. She’d worn a dress for one thing and pulled her hair back into a roll. Not that she hadn’t done so before, but only on Sundays. Normally he would have expected to see her watching the construction work. Or amusing the children with games and pretend play. But today she stayed inside the little cabin. Why? He wished he knew what it meant.
Or maybe he didn’t want to know.
After she’d rescued him and stayed at his side until she thought he was no longer in danger, he believed a new understanding, a closeness of sorts, had developed between them.
Obviously he only imagined it because of his vulnerable state. Something that no longer existed. He must guard his thoughts and actions lest he make another mistake.
But an hour later, he wished she would come outside and offer a few suggestions. He could use a woman’s point of view on some of the decisions.
“Let’s have dinner,” Eddie called.
The men threw down their tools and jogged to their saddlebags to pull out the lunches they’d brought with them.
Abel didn’t have a prepared lunch so he strode toward the cabin, his steps slowing as he neared the place. He could hear the twins talking inside, could hear Mercy respond though he could not make out her words.
He would soon have a new cabin. There would be no need for her to come and watch the children. He almost wished Eddie would take his crew and go home.
Realizing how foolish a thought that was, he put it down to his
headache. Of course, he was grateful. He and the twins would have a safe, warm, solid home for the winter…for those long cold days and even colder nights when he would lie alone in his bed while the children slept in the loft. He’d rise to a cold room. The loneliness of the prospect scratched at him. But he had the twins. That’s all that mattered.
If only he believed it… But having had Mercy’s company for these past three weeks, he knew he’d wish every day for more than safe and warm.
There must be a solution. One that would satisfy them both.
But she wanted to leave. And he wanted a woman who would stay.
He stepped inside and breathed in the savory aroma of stew. “I feel guilty eating a hot meal while everyone else eats cold sandwiches.”
“You aren’t everyone else.” Mercy filled four bowls and then sat across the table from him.
What did she mean?
“You need extra nourishment after your accident.”
Oh. Only that. He dipped his head to hide his disappointment. “I’ll say grace.” He took a moment to collect his thoughts before he prayed. After his amen, he silently asked God to guard his heart and mind. But an inadmissible thought followed. God, could You make it possible for Mercy to stay a little longer? Maybe until it would be too late for her to join a crazy show. Maybe until she changed her mind.
The children plied him with questions throughout the meal. Good thing, as Mercy seemed interested only in her bowl of food. He thanked her for the meal and thanked her again when she filled his coffee cup for the third time. She smiled nice enough but seemed to be faraway in her thoughts.
His coffee grew bitter and he pushed the half-empty cup away. No doubt she wondered when she’d be able to fulfill her commitment to help with the children so she could pursue her own activities. A Wild West show. What did he have to offer to compare with that? Nothing but two children who needed lots of attention, a cabin under construction and his own demands…food, coffee, laundry. No wonder she grew restless and distant.
Yet he couldn’t imagine her leaving. Would she stay if he asked?
He bolted to his feet. “I hear the men back at work.” He fled the cabin. But, despite the blow of ax against wood, the pound of hammers, the shrill of saws, his thoughts circled the same question over and over.
He could ask her to stay until the new cabin was finished. That meant windows in, partitions up, the floor finished, the chimney built. It would mean her riding back and forth every day. How long could he reasonably consider that feasible? Once the cabin was finished, then what?
He picked up a saw that leaned against a log and examined it, ran his finger along the teeth. Then what? The question rattled against the inside of his head. Then what?
Eventually he had to say goodbye. Let her go.
Because the only alternative wasn’t something he dared think about. Mercy was too much like Ruby. Unprepared to settle down.
Someone called him and he set aside the saw and went to see what was wanted.
Would she stay if he asked her? If only until the new cabin was finished and ready to live in?
He could offer neither of them any longer than that.
By late afternoon, the cabin walls were halfway up.
Eddie called a halt to the work. “We’ll be back in the morning. I’ll escort Mercy home.”
“I truly appreciate your help,” Abel replied. But he couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he would not get a chance to ask Mercy to consider returning every day until the new cabin was livable.
As she rode away with Eddie, he realized he didn’t know if she meant to return in the morning.
Why hadn’t he thought to ask?
The question plagued him throughout the evening as he served the children more of the stew that grew more flavorful the longer it simmered.
He tried to stay awake after the children went to bed to figure out what he wanted to do about Mercy, but his body demanded otherwise and he crawled between the covers and fell instantly asleep.
The children woke him the next morning. Not often did he sleep longer than they did. Every bone in his body felt the effects of his accident and he groaned as he got up.
Allie watched him carefully. “Are you okay, Papa?”
He straightened and hid his pain. “I’m fine.” It was later than he usually got up. “We better hurry with breakfast or the men will be here. They’ll think we do nothing but sleep.”
Ladd poured water in the kettle. “The fire is going.”
Abel stared at his son. When had he grown so independent?
“Mercy showed us what to do and said it was okay so long as there was an adult present.”
He guessed being asleep while Ladd tended the stove qualified as having an adult present. But he didn’t know if he should be concerned or pleased at Ladd’s ability.
One thing he knew for certain, if he didn’t get moving the men would be back before he did his chores. He sliced bread and set out syrup to spread on it. Knowing it would never get him through the morning, he opened a can of beans and another of peaches.
Allie sighed. “I wish Mercy would make breakfast for us.”
“Well, she can’t be here in time. Eat up. I have chores to do.” He downed his food and rushed outside to feed Sam while the twins still ate.
He was returning to the cabin with an armload of firewood when Eddie rode in with a crew. Abel’s lungs sucked in air laden with the smell of wood and fall leaves and warm sunshine when he saw Mercy riding at Eddie’s side. She’d come back.
She swung down and handed her horse to Eddie, then followed Abel to the house. “How are you?” She studied him. “Seems to me you’re limping a little.”
“It’s only bruises. I’m fine.” Even the remnants of his headache had vanished with her arrival.
She paused to take the copper boiler from the hook and carried it to the stove. “I’ll get the water heating.” She headed to the well with two buckets.
Why would she do the laundry? She’d never done it before. He’d managed on his own, scrubbing a few things as they were needed. But before he could ask her, Eddie called and he had to leave.
So many things about Mercy had changed. She again wore a dress and had her hair pinned up. She seemed set on remaining indoors despite the brilliant sunshine. What was wrong with her? Was this her way of preparing to say a final goodbye?
The walls of the new cabin rose steadily.
“We’ll get the basic shell up today,” Eddie predicted. “Tomorrow we’ll put on a roof.”
“I can manage the shakes on my own,” Abel said. “And the inside finishing.”
“Good, because I assured Linette we’d get the church up this fall.”
“I’ll help with the church.”
“Not until you’re ready.” Eddie clapped Abel’s shoulder. “There’ll be lots of people at the church raising. It will be a major community event if Linette has her way.”
As Abel watched the walls go up, he made up his mind. He would ask Mercy to watch the children until they moved into the new cabin. It was the most he could allow himself. Even that might be beyond his reach if she had her heart set on joining a Wild West show before winter. Any show in this part of the country would soon be heading south to miss the bad weather. Unless… He smiled. He might need her so long she missed joining before they’d left.
He shook his head. He knew the folly of hoping a person would give up their dreams because of contrary circumstances. Hadn’t he learned his lesson with Ruby? And his own choices?
But a delay was acceptable.
Having made up his mind, he discovered how difficult it was to find an opportunity to ask the question. He’d insisted he should join the men eating sandwiches outdoors at dinnertime. Mercy and the children ate indoors. He’d expected her to join the men. The fact she hadn’t had him half convinced she was ill.
But she rushed about hanging wet clothes on a line she’d suspended between the cabin and a nearby tree. Later, she took
each item off the line and carried it indoors showing no sign of illness.
Then, before he knew it, Eddie called out, “That’s it, boys. The walls are up.”
Abel went from man to man shaking hands and thanking them. “I appreciate everything.”
When he turned to speak to Mercy, she was already sitting on Nugget’s back at Eddie’s side, waiting to leave.
“I’ll bring a crew tomorrow to do the roof,” Eddie called as they rode away.
Abel stared after until Ladd asked, “Papa, what’s the matter?”
He turned away. “Nothing wrong, son. I’m just thinking how grateful I am for the help. We’ll soon be in a big, warm cabin.”
“This cabin is warm,” Ladd said.
“Except when the wind blows, then the roof rattles and the cold shrieks through the chinks in the wall.” It would be plenty hard to stay warm come winter, but now he could get the new cabin ready, fill in every space between the logs so tightly no wind would ever sneak through.
Tomorrow, he vowed, he’d ask Mercy to keep coming. If she didn’t return tomorrow, he’d go to the ranch and ask her.
That night he lay awake after the twins fell asleep and he prayed. He prayed for things he knew were in the children’s best interests, like safety and love. But he also wished for things he doubted were in any of their best interests.
Wishes were harmless enough so long as he didn’t let them rule his choices.
He was up early the next day and put coffee to boil. The sun had not yet appeared over the eastern horizon but the sky turned steely gray, indicating it would soon appear. Abel opened the door, on the excuse of getting more wood. He paused to listen. No thud of approaching horses. He lingered, straining for a sound. Sighing, he returned inside. The coffee boiled over and he reached for it, remembered just in time to wrap a cloth around his hand. He shook the pot and stared at the mess on the stove.
The children crawled out of bed and dressed, then they sat at the table.
“Papa, are we going to eat?” Allie asked.
He jerked his attention from the coffeepot. How long had he been staring at it, wondering?
