by Linda Ford
“Eddie,” someone called. “Don’t we need a preacher?”
“Constable Allen said he’d ask at the fort. Said he’d ask about a doctor, too.” Eddie glanced at Linette and Abel guessed he wished for a doctor nearby should anything go wrong with the birth of their little one.
Miss Oake from the OK Ranch waved to get Eddie’s attention. “I recently heard from a cousin from back east who is a doctor. He’s on his way to visit us. I don’t know if he plans to set up practice here or just visit but he’ll be here for a while.”
More applause, then Eddie said grace. “Let’s enjoy the abundance.”
Mercy supplied Abel and the children with plates and they filed past the food.
“There’s so much,” Allie said, her eyes wide. “How can I taste everything?”
Mercy chuckled. “You might have to make some choices.”
“But I want to try it all.”
Mercy and Abel looked at each and laughed. Something sweet filled his heart at the shared joy over his daughter.
When they reached the end of the table, Allie eyed the desserts and sighed loudly.
Abel laughed. “I remember when she was ill and I couldn’t get her to take more than a spoonful of broth,” he said to Mercy.
“I’m all better now,” Allie assured him.
Ladd asked if he could sit with Billy and Neil, and Abel gave him permission. Allie sighed again and didn’t even ask though she looked longingly at a circle of little girls.
As they sat and ate, Abel glanced about. And felt something deep inside him unfurl. He’d always longed for this sort of thing—community, acceptance and belonging. Many times throughout the morning men had asked his advice regarding the building and he had given it. They’d accepted him. His family belonged here.
Family. He truly felt like family for the first time in his adult life. Even though it was temporary.
Unless he made it permanent.
He studied Mercy out of the corner of his eyes. She certainly seemed to care about the twins. Did she feel anything for him? Fondness at least? He examined his own feelings. Yes, he was fond of her. Very fond. His insides tightened and his fingers clenched the edge of the plate. He’d been fond of Ruby and married her—and that had been a mistake.
He didn’t intend to make any more mistakes. No matter what he felt, how fond he was of her.
But hadn’t Mercy changed for the better?
Then again, why had she changed? Was it for real or simply a reaction to something? He needed to ask her. He needed to know what she felt about him. About family life. About settling down.
This community gathering would not give him a chance to speak privately with her.
He needed to make such an opportunity.
By the next morning, he had a plan. Because it was Sunday, he would take the children to the ranch. The day would be consumed with eating and visiting. Yes, he and Mercy might get a few minutes alone, but not enough. He had something more than that in mind. At the first opportunity he would ask Linette to watch the children and then take Mercy on a picnic.
He’d tell her all that was in his heart.
But first, he must bring in some more firewood before snow came and found him unprepared.
At church, Abel tried to concentrate on the talk Bertie gave and then later on the conversation about the new church, but with Mercy at his side and the knowledge of his plan, he continually had to shepherd his thoughts back from chasing after the idea of a picnic alone with her.
He accepted Linette’s invitation to join them for dinner then wished he hadn’t because several times Eddie gave him a studying look and Abel realized he had missed a question.
He could not keep his mind on the conversation. All he wanted to do was arrange a picnic for himself and Mercy.
But the day passed without allowing him a chance to speak privately to either Linette or Mercy.
He would have delayed his departure, but he noted a heightened color in Allie’s cheeks. The twins’ needs must come first. He had to get them home before Allie got overexcited.
Chapter Seventeen
Mercy tried to think why Abel had been in such a hurry to leave Sunday but couldn’t. Had she done something to disappoint him? She reviewed the past few days. She’d been as ordinary as milk. She’d watched Allie, though that was certainly no hardship. She only wished the child could be allowed to join the others at play. Maybe this doctor cousin of Miss Oake could look at Allie and say whether or not there was any damage to her heart.
Consumed by restlessness, she changed into her riding costume and took Nugget out for a long run. She came to a small lake, where she noticed a great honking flock of birds lifting off the water—geese and cranes. Majestic birds. They circled overhead, then returned to the water. She tied Nugget in the trees and sat to observe them. These birds were not ordinary though what they only did was natural for them.
A strange restlessness filled her, peppered through and through with a contrasting peace. Was she the Mercy she tried to be for Abel or the one she pretended to be to get her parents’ attention? God, creator of all this beauty, who have You created me to be?
Peace swallowed up the restlessness and she sat watching the birds for a long time. Somehow she knew that God, who guided birds from north to south and back each year, would guide her on her own journey. She had only to follow directions—if she could only find them.
Finally, she slipped away, quietly so as not to disturb the flock.
At home she studied herself from every angle in her looking glass. She appeared to be an ordinary woman about to embark on an ordinary day.
Inside, her heart fluttered like a nervous bird. Would Abel look at her with dark blue interest and see how she longed to be accepted?
She shook her head. That wasn’t what she meant. It sounded needy and immature. She only wanted—
“To be seen as a person of value,” she said to her reflection. But even that didn’t sound right and she spun away. Perhaps if Abel would accompany her to see the birds, they could, together, find the answers she sought. The peace she craved. But when she arrived at his cabin the next morning, she knew before she dismounted that he wouldn’t. His horse was already harnessed to the stoneboat and Abel rushed from the cabin as soon as he heard her.
“Good morning.” He slowed his steps, veered from his path toward the horse and headed in her direction. He looked into her face, his gaze lingering on her mouth. Did he see the woman he wanted her to be, she wondered? He brushed her cheek with his bare hand. “I want to get a load of wood in while the weather holds.” With a fleeting smile he resumed his original direction.
Did he wish he could spend the day with her and the twins?
She watched until he disappeared into the trees, then went inside. Ladd and Allie rushed over to hug her.
“How are you feeling?” She studied Allie. The child looked fit and eager for life.
“I’m not sick even if Papa thinks I am.”
Mercy had thought the same thing many times. “Nevertheless, you can’t afford to take chances. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” She hugged the little girl and tickled her, eliciting crazy giggles.
Together they washed the dishes and tidied the cabin. Mercy brought out books and schoolwork but had more trouble concentrating than the twins. The four walls pressed too close. The stove overheated the small area.
She crossed to the window. The sky held only a few gray clouds. The calm she’d felt watching the wild birds on the little mountain lake had dissipated. How much longer would the flock remain? If only she could see them again and recapture the peace and assurance she’d experienced. Why not? It was warm. The children would enjoy the outing. “Let’s go on a picnic.”
“Yah!” They both bounced off their chairs and hurried to her side.
“Help me get a lunch ready to take.”
They did so eagerly and a few minutes later the three of them rode from the yard on Nugget’s back.
&
nbsp; “Where are we going?” Ladd asked.
“It’s a surprise.” Despite their frequent asking, she wouldn’t tell them more. “Look around and enjoy the journey,” she said, pointing out moss on the north side of the trees, a blue jay scolding from a branch nearby. They paused once to watch a V of geese honking overhead.
A little later they stopped and dismounted. “You have to be very quiet now.” She held her finger to her lips and guided them silently through the trees. The trees opened up to reveal the lake. Fewer birds were there this time of day, and none of the huge cranes.
“Let’s sit here and watch them,” she whispered as she indicated a tree.
Their eyes sparkled with excitement and she knew they found the sight of so many birds as awesome as she.
They watched the birds take off and land. Allie covered her mouth to muffle her giggles as a duck skidded into the water.
And then a flock of the majestic cranes approached. Both twins sucked in air as the huge birds settled onto the water. When Mercy had described the birds—their size, the black tips on their wings and red crown—Eddie had said they were whooping cranes.
She whispered the information to the twins.
Mesmerized by the beauty of the birds and the noise coming from the lake, the three of them watched for a long time.
Ladd leaned closer to whisper, “I’m hungry.”
Mercy nodded and led them back to Nugget. She found a grassy clearing and they shared the lunch.
“Can we watch them again?” Allie asked.
“Did you enjoy that?”
She nodded, eyes sparkling. “They’re fun to watch.”
So they tiptoed back to the lake. Mercy warned herself to be aware of the passing time. They must make it back before Abel. He would worry if he returned and they were missing.
After a while, she signaled the children to follow her back to Nugget. “It’s time to leave.”
As they rode away, the twins chattered nonstop about the birds.
They had only reached the trail when Mercy shivered as a cold wind suddenly blew in and whipped around them. She stopped and pulled a blanket from her bag and wrapped it around Allie. “Ladd, do up your coat and keep tight to me.”
A glance at the sky revealed low-hanging black clouds. Rain clouds. If she hurried she might beat the storm back. But they hadn’t gone five paces when the heavens opened.
She reined Nugget under the shelter of a tree and pulled the children down to the ground, wrapping them in a big black slicker she’d started carrying after Eddie said she ought to be prepared for bad weather. She silently thanked him for his advice as she held the twins close. At least they’d be dry. She leaned out to glance upward. Would the storm pass quickly or had it settled in for a long visit? She couldn’t see enough of the sky to guess. She leaned back. How long could she stay here? The light would fade early if the clouds stayed.
She considered her options, which were limited to two—stay and hope the storm ended or endure the cold rain and get the children home.
The second seemed the most appropriate, though not the most pleasant for her.
She wiped the saddle with her sleeve and lifted Ladd then Allie to it. Ladd put his arms around his sister and held on. He would do everything he could to protect her. Mercy meant to do the same. She wrapped the slicker around them tightly. “Is any rain getting in?”
“No,” came Ladd’s muffled reply. “It’s dry in here.”
“It smells funny,” Allie said.
Mercy laughed. “You’ll get used to it.” She swung up behind the pair, pushed her wet hair out of her eyes and hunkered down for a long cold ride.
At least the twins were safe and dry. If Abel happened to return before they got back he would see how careful she was with the children.
She ventured a prayer. God, could You please make sure we get back first?
*
Abel shook the water from his coat. He had continued to work after the rain began but water dripped from his hat, trailed down his nose, ran under his collar. The stoneboat had a decent load. He better get it home before traction became a problem.
As he navigated the trail he thought of what lay ahead. He’d ask Mercy to wait out the storm. A picnic was out of the question, but he could leave the twins in the old cabin and take Mercy to the new one. Actually talking to her about the future in the place where his future would take place made perfect sense.
He rehearsed the words he would say as he made his way home. He arrived in the yard, unhitched the stoneboat and took Sam to the corral. Strange that Nugget wasn’t there. Had she tied him in the trees to keep him out of the rain? It seemed like something she would think to do. He smiled as he pictured her running outside, unmindful of the rain, to take care of her horse.
Shaking off as much moisture as he could, he ducked into the cabin and put his hat on a hook. He turned.
“Mercy? Ladd? Allie?” Had they gone to the new cabin? He plopped his wet hat back on his head and jogged across the yard. He called them again. Nothing. He looked around the partitions, climbed to the loft and looked in the corners. Was this some kind of game?
He saw none of the three but searched the cabin again just to be sure. Finally convinced they weren’t there, he jogged back to the other one. But they weren’t in that cabin, either.
He went to the door and stared out at the pelting rain. Had they ventured outside and been caught unawares? “Mercy, Ladd, Allie,” he roared at the top of his lungs.
Nothing but the sound of rain on the roof and water dripping from the trees.
Then it hit him. Nugget missing. The twins missing. Mercy must have taken them on one of her foolish adventures. His fists curled so tightly his knuckles creaked. He thought she’d changed. Just went to prove he didn’t dare listen to his foolish heart. If this hadn’t happened he might have asked her to—
Marry him.
The idea mocked him. Seems he had this unconscious wish to make his life miserable.
Thank God above he’d discovered his mistake before it was too late.
He circled the cabin, straining through the wet air for a glimpse of them.
Allie would surely catch a chill out there. He pressed a fist to his forehead. If something happened to her or Ladd…
He circled the cabin several times. Not until they were home safely would he go inside and shed his wet clothes. He deserved to be chilled to the bone for trusting his children to the care of a woman like Mercy.
As the minutes trudged by, his insides grew hotter. Would he have to ride to the ranch and ask for help searching for them? Wait. The ranch. Had she taken them there? Were they safe and dry?
He considered riding there, but he couldn’t leave the cabin. What if one of them stumbled in needing help? The woods were full of dangers—mountain lions, bears, strange men. He couldn’t be sure the man who shot the mountain lion posed no danger to his children.
He waited in the open doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, but his muscles twitched and he walked around the cabin again. Then he saw a shadow moving through the trees. Reaching for his rifle, he strained forward.
The shadow drew closer, materialized into a horse carrying a dark object.
He rubbed his eyes and blinked. Then he saw Mercy, her dress wet and limp, her hair a springy tangle. He bolted forward. “Where are my children?”
“Here.” She indicated the dark shape.
He flipped back the slicker. Two pairs of eyes watched him. He grabbed them and set them inside the door. “Get into something dry and wrap up in blankets. I’ll be right there.” He had to spare a moment to speak to Mercy.
“Have you no regard for anyone but yourself?” Words spewed from his mouth. Words expressing his anger and fear. Even as he spoke them, he knew they were unreasonable. She wouldn’t put his children as risk. He’d been as worried about her as them. His worry had grown until it was completely out of proportion. He needed time to get his emotions under control. “I suggest you leave
immediately.”
The look she gave him could only be described as wounded. “You’ve never trusted me. And never will.” She rode away without a backward look.
He swiped the moisture from his face before he hurried in to take care of the children.
The twins faced him as he closed the door.
“Papa, why did you yell at her?” Allie’s voice rang with accusation.
“She shouldn’t have taken you out in the rain.”
“It didn’t start raining until we were on our way home.” Ladd crossed his arms and fixed Abel with a hard look. “Why did you say you didn’t trust her?”
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s get you out of those wet things.”
“We’re dry.” Ladd’s stance suggested disapproval. “Mercy wrapped us up and looked after us.” Ladd and Allie exchanged looks.
“And you sent her away wet and cold.” Allie turned her back. She reached for Ladd’s hand and they retreated to the bed. He wondered if they wished they could get farther away, but the small cabin made it impossible.
He touched Allie’s cheeks, ignoring the way she drew back. She was warm and dry.
“You were rude to her.” Ladd’s look said quite plainly that he held his father in contempt.
Abel went to the window and looked out. He’d jumped to a wrong conclusion. Let his anger fuel hurtful words. “I made a mistake,” he said.
“Then best you tell her.” Allie was right. He had to tell her.
But the rain continued to sputter. He couldn’t take the children out and do exactly what he’d accused Mercy of—putting his interests ahead of their well-being.
*
Ice encased her heart, more numbing and invasive than the cold rain soaking Mercy as she rode home. She’d tried. Tried to be an ordinary person, tried to show Abel how responsible she was, tried and failed.
He didn’t trust her enough to even stop and look at the evidence before he’d said exactly what he thought of her. Plain and simple, he didn’t trust her. Never would. What was the use in her even trying?
She reached the ranch and took care of Nugget before she headed up the hill to the house.
