by Linda Ford
“Of course, we’ll eat.” He dragged out a fry pan, threw in a spoonful of bacon fat and sliced in leftover potatoes before he began another pot of coffee.
Ladd rushed to the stove and pushed the pan aside.
“Ladd, stay away from the stove.”
“Papa, the potatoes are burning.”
“Sorry. I got distracted.” And his lack of concentration wouldn’t end until he knew if Mercy would come this morning. Maybe not then even. Not until he asked her to stay and got the response he wanted.
A short time later, horses rode into the yard.
Abel hurried for the door and flung it open. His lungs filled with ease for the first time all morning at the sight of Mercy beside Eddie. Half a dozen men accompanied them, but he didn’t even look at them. He couldn’t have said who they were.
He and Mercy smiled and said hello. They passed each other as he joined the men and she went inside the cabin. It took almost more self-discipline than he could muster not to follow her and ask her on the spot. Perhaps, at the same time, he’d ask why she’d been acting so differently if he ever got a chance to speak to her without cowboys or the twins or both hanging over his shoulder, listening to every word.
By midmorning, he could wait no longer and, murmuring some excuse, he climbed from the roof and headed for the cabin. He opened the door. Mercy sat with a basket of mending on her lap and a needle and thread in her hand.
On the floor before her sat Allie, also with a needle and thread. She held a piece of fabric in her hand. A handkerchief. She took stitches to hem it.
Ladd sat beside her cutting pictures from a magazine.
Abel’s heart threatened to melt out the soles of his boots. This was what he’d wanted since the twins were born. A welcoming home. A happy family. A woman who glanced at him and smiled.
Then reality slammed into his thoughts and he swallowed hard. He had no more room for useless dreams. All he wanted, all he could allow himself, was a few more days of pretending.
Chapter Fourteen
Mercy sewed a button on a pair of Ladd’s trousers. She’d done laundry, ironed the clothes. She now worked on the mending. Wasn’t she being ordinary? But Abel only said she seemed different.
Different as night from day, if he cared to notice.
The door opened and he stared at the three of them. She couldn’t read his expression. Did he approve? Did he even notice?
“Ladd, Allie,” he said. “Run outside and play for a bit. Mind you don’t bother the men.”
The twins set aside their projects and dashed outside without arguing. Mercy watched them go. They were such good children. What did Abel have to say that couldn’t be said in front of them? She kept her head bent over the button. The new cabin was almost finished. Likely he’d come to tell her he no longer needed her to come. She would not let him guess how desperately she wished he could see the change in her and understand what it meant.
He remained just inside the door and twisted his hat round and round. “I know you’ve got your heart set on joining a Wild West show.”
“That’s been my plan. I haven’t minded delaying though.” I could be persuaded to change my mind if you offered an alternative.
The hat went round and round. Then paused. “You’re good at it.”
He meant her trick riding, she supposed. “Thank you.” He’d had little enough to say at the time. Why now? She tied off the thread and shook out Ladd’s shirt. One more garment mended.
Abel shifted from one foot to the other. “The new cabin is looking good.”
“Indeed.” The subject she’d been expecting and dreading.
“Of course, I still have a lot of work to do. More firewood to get in. The inside of the cabin to finish. The cracks to fill.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She selected one of Allie’s dark pinafores whose seam needed repairing. She cut off a length of navy thread. The little girl needed someone to dress her up and do her hair, she thought absently. Not that Abel didn’t do the best he could.
He jerked a chair from the table and plunked it in front of her, his knees only inches from hers. He leaned forward until she felt him with every breath.
She lifted her head and met his eyes, blinked before his demanding look. She lowered her hands to her lap, scrubbed her lips together. Had she done something wrong? Something to earn his displeasure? But she couldn’t think of what it could be. Why, these past few days she’d been so perfectly behaved she thought she’d perish of boredom. How did Linette, and Jayne and Grace manage? Sybil, she could understand. All Sybil had ever wanted was to live by rules.
“Mercy.” Abel’s voice jerked her nerves like a taut rope. “What I’m about to say…ask…is big. I know it is. But I hope you’ll consider it carefully before you give a response.” He scratched at a snag on his trouser’s leg. If he kept it up there’d be another mending job.
“Of course.” He was certainly being mysterious and her nerves began to twitch in time to his scratching.
He pressed his hand against his leg as if realizing the damage he did. “I would like to ask you to consider coming a bit longer.” He sprang to his feet. “There, I’ve said it.” He crossed to the stove, picked up the coffeepot and set it down again, then returned to the chair, swinging it around and straddling the seat. He leaned over the back. “I could get my work done so much faster if I didn’t have to watch the twins and they really enjoy having you here.”
That she knew to be true. But what did he think of her presence? She dared not ask. “I enjoy keeping them company.”
“So you’ll think about it?”
It was a beginning. More time would allow him to see how ordinary she could be. “I don’t need to. My answer is yes.”
He jumped to his feet and stood by her chair. “That’s great.”
She took her time inserting the threaded needle into the fabric she held. Carefully, she folded it, keeping the needle visible on top, and set it on the basket of other items to be mended. Only then did she lift her gaze to him.
He grinned widely. She wondered if his eyes revealed approval or only relief.
Drawn by the look in his gaze, she rose to face him.
“I’m glad.” He smiled at her.
“Me, too.” She returned his smile.
The air shimmered between them until she had to blink to keep her eyes from tearing. If only she could read his thoughts. Was he grateful only for the sake of the children? Or did that gleam in his eyes say he was happy for his sake, as well? He scrubbed his lips together. Shifted on his feet. His gaze dipped to her mouth.
Her breath stuck midway up her throat. Without forethought, she leaned toward him.
He leaned in…then he blinked, patted her shoulder and headed for the door.
She lifted a hand, thinking to call him back. For a moment she’d thought he meant to kiss her.
She pressed her fingers to her mouth as he ducked out the door. Next time she’d make sure he followed through on that thought.
*
The next morning Abel sat at the table pretending he wasn’t as anxious to see Mercy as were the twins. Wearing their coats, they waited at the door for the sound of her horse. The morning air was chilly, and he’d insisted they keep the door closed until she arrived.
“I hear her,” Ladd yelled, and the pair rushed outside.
Abel slipped into his coat and followed.
“Mercy,” Allie called. “Papa made us wait until you got here before we could look inside the new cabin.” They trooped after her to the corral, where she unsaddled Nugget and turned him loose.
“He did, did he?” She took Allie’s hand on one side and Ladd’s on the other, and the three of them waited for Abel to catch up. “Now why would you do that?”
“It was as much their idea to wait as mine.”
“I see.”
If only he knew what she saw. She’d agreed readily enough to help for a few more days. Would it be long enough for him to provide reason for her to…
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What? Make it permanent?
He’d wasted enough of his life chasing after dreams and he saw how that had turned out. All his life he’d wanted…
He couldn’t even say. Only that he hadn’t found it at home building ships; nor had he found the elusive something living a wild and free life. He certainly hadn’t found it in his marriage to Ruby.
The only thing that had ever given him satisfaction was the twins. He loved them and vowed to devote his life to them.
Yet his insides ached for more.
When they reached the cabin, he opened the door and waved them in with a wide sweep of his arm.
The twins dashed in and circled the room at a run. Mercy entered more slowly and stood at Abel’s side. “Eddie insisted on putting up the walls for the bedroom and the loft floor. I have yet to put in the chimney and get glass for the windows.” He took her arm and led her forward. “I plan to put the stove here. And the table will go beneath the window so we can see out as we eat.” Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice his use of the word “we” or she assumed he meant himself and the twins. But he’d been picturing Mercy at the table across from him, enjoying a cup of coffee as the sun shone through the glass.
Ladd and Allie faced them. “Papa, where is Mercy going to sleep?”
“Me?” He noticed a jolt run up her arm. She touched the two little heads. “I am only coming to help until your papa doesn’t need me.”
Confusion crowded their faces and then disappointment. Ladd led Allie away. Just before the door closed behind them, Abel caught Allie’s whispered words. “She doesn’t want to stay with us. Just like Mama.”
Had Mercy heard the words? He slanted a look at her. If she’d heard she gave no indication.
“It will be a very nice home,” she said.
“It’s missing only one thing.” He hadn’t meant to say the words aloud but now that he had, he didn’t regret it. Now he would get a chance to say what was in his heart.
He ignored the little warning voice in the back of his brain telling him to listen to his head not his heart.
She turned to face him. “What’s it missing?” Her eyes were watchful and, dare he believe, hopeful?
“A mother.”
She raised her eyebrows and her eyes filled with disbelief. “Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to take a wife?” She stepped away as if to check the view out the window. “And as I recall, you’ve decided you would never marry again.”
He crossed to her side, struggling to find words to express both his desire and his uncertainty. “I think what I said, or at least what I meant, is I would never marry a woman who wasn’t devoted to the twins.” Suddenly a rush of words flooded his mouth. “Ruby found them a nuisance. It didn’t matter to her if they were properly supervised or even adequately fed and clothed. I’ll never put them through that again. Never.”
“Nor should you.”
Her silent waiting sucked at his thoughts. Did she mean—
“Papa!” Ladd’s fear-filled yell jerked Abel toward the door. He rushed outside to discover the twins between the cabin and the corrals, staring into the woods. Allie gripped Ladd’s hand, her face white and drawn.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he reached them, Mercy hard on his heels.
Ladd answered, “There’s something out there.”
Abel and Mercy glanced at each other. In her eyes was the acknowledgment of the same thing he feared. The man in the woods.
“You two go to the old cabin and stay inside with Mercy.” He shepherded them toward the door.
“Papa,” Allie’s voice was a thin whisper. “It was a kitty cat.”
No kitty cats wandered about the woods, but he’d let her believe it rather than frighten her. Inside, he grabbed his rifle and turned to Mercy. “Do you have your gun?”
She shook her head and avoided meeting his gaze.
How strange. Wasn’t she afraid of the man out there? “Where is it? I’ll get it for you.” He turned on his heel, expecting she’d say he’d find her gun on her saddle.
“I quit carrying it.”
His jaw fell lax. He blinked at her. “I must have misunderstood. I thought you said you didn’t carry a gun anymore.”
“That’s what I said.”
“What a time to be without a gun.” Especially with a wild man in the woods. “Keep the children with you. Don’t wander about in the woods. Call if you need help.”
He closed the door behind him and skirted the woods around the cabin, but he saw nothing that made him think either a man or a kitty cat had been there. Perhaps the twins had been mistaken.
The tension slipped from his shoulders. Why would Mercy stop carrying a gun? His shoulders tightened again. Didn’t she realize the dangers of riding back and forth through the woods without protection? Kitty cat or crazy man, it was but a fraction of the dangers that faced her.
If something were to happen to her—
It would be partially his fault for asking her to make the journey twice a day.
Assured no wild animals or wild men stalked his family, Abel went to the new cabin. It was time to start on the chimney. Time to get his new home ready for the winter.
He’d been about to ask Mercy to stay on. In the back of his mind, he supposed he meant to ask her to marry him. But he understood a man with two kids and a desire to live a calm, ordinary life held no appeal to her. It was a good thing Allie and Ladd had interrupted their conversation.
He would not think of the long, lonely days. His only concern had to be the welfare of the twins.
*
The next day Mercy came prepared to give the children school lessons. She’d used every opportunity to teach them math and reading skills. When they helped with a recipe she had them measure, add and subtract the ingredients. When they had a treasure hunt or played sailing on a ship, she let them read from one of the many books she borrowed from Eddie’s large library.
But now she needed to be more purposeful about it. She meant to show Abel she could be a responsible mother figure. He’d said he wanted a mother for his children. Well, he’d soon learn she could be that. Would she be willing to settle for nothing more? Of course. Who needed more? Lots of women had loveless marriages and lived for their children. Wasn’t Abel satisfied with being a father and nothing more? Yet her answer failed to satisfy an ache deep inside, in a forbidden place behind her heart. A place with solid steel doors for which she’d thrown away the key. Yet somehow the doors managed to creak open a bit each time she thought of Abel.
As soon as the cabin was clean and soup simmered on the back of the stove, she brought out pencils and paper for the children. Linette had supplied her with texts suitable for the twins. “Allie, Ladd, today we are going to start school lessons.”
Ladd stared at the books. “I don’t like school.”
“The others make fun of us because we can’t read as good as they do,” Allie said, with a tremble in her voice.
No doubt they had missed much school if they moved around as often as Abel said and if Ruby hadn’t made sure they attended. Mercy wanted to gather the children in her arms and assure them she would never neglect them. But she didn’t have the right.
“Then why don’t we work to catch up?”
They reluctantly sat at the table. She explained the lesson to them and guided them to answer the questions. She knew they had the skills for basic arithmetic, but they stalled at completing the work.
Ladd dropped his pencil and chased it across the floor.
Allie followed his lead.
Mercy tried to corral them back to the table, but Ladd climbed on the bed and pulled down their collection of paper animals.
It gave Mercy an idea. Perhaps they weren’t ready for formal lessons, but that didn’t mean she would give up.
“Ladd, if each of us made three more animals, how many more would we have?”
The twins looked at her as if she’d asked them to number the stars.
“Look. Ther
e’s three of us and if we each make three animals…” She laid out three piles of three. “How many more would you have?”
“Nine,” Allie shouted.
“Right. Now how many all together if you add nine?”
Ladd answered first, pleased at figuring it out.
She went around the house, naming objects. “How many legs in total do four chairs have? How many cans of beans in half a dozen cases?”
Soon the children were asking each other and shouting out answers.
She guided them back to the table. “Let’s see how fast you can come up with the answers on your worksheets.”
At first she thought they would balk, but when Allie bent over her page, so did Ladd. They finished within seconds of each other.
Mercy checked the answers. “A hundred percent for both of you. Good job.” Now to shift to writing. “Let’s practice handwriting.”
Two bottom lips came out.
“How can you send letters if you can’t write?”
Ladd gave her a look of disbelief. “Who would we send letters to?”
“Why don’t you write to your grandparents?” She had no idea if Abel was in contact with them, but he’d never said anything to lead her to suspect otherwise.
So she helped them pen simple little letters, suggesting they tell about the new cabin.
“I want to tell about you riding in a Wild West show,” Allie said.
“Let’s leave that for another day.” If the grandparents were anything like Abel, they would be shocked he had a woman like her—someone who had taught the twins about trick riding—caring for the children.
The twins did not like her answer.
“Why don’t you write pretend stories about whatever you want? We could put them in a scrapbook and save them? Wouldn’t it be fun to read them to your own children?”
Ladd and Allie laughed so hard they almost fell off their chairs.
She chuckled, too. “I’m sure your papa would like to keep your stories.”
They nodded and bent over the sheets of paper she gave them. She had to spell many words for them and show them how to shape some of their letters. Half an hour later they had finished their stories.
