by Kit Morgan
Charity nodded. “C.J.?”
Rufi blushed and nodded.
Charity smiled. “I see. Don’t worry, mum’s the word.”
Rufi smiled and nodded again.
They unloaded the wagon and brought the blankets and baskets of food Rosie had prepared to the tables and chairs the Cookes had set up under His Majesty. On the other end of the meadow Harrison, Colin and Duncan were erecting targets for the archery contest. Children of all ages ran everywhere. “Do these all belong to the Cookes?” Rufi asked.
Sadie wiped her hands on her apron and laughed. “Most of them, yes. All the children you met at the house the other day, plus Logan and Susara’s children. I told them we’d bring them along. Logan Kincaid’s our foreman.”
“Yes, I remember you telling us.” After her moment with C.J., Rufi was surprised she remembered anything. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much, since she didn’t go through with it – or was that why? But the rest of the afternoon was a blur, and she hadn’t seen Melvale since. She began counting the children, Cookes, Weavers and Kincaids alike. The youngest was two, the oldest about her age.
She watched Jeff Cooke, Colin and Belle’s oldest (and Jefferson’s namesake) carry a hatchet across the meadow to his father. He was a handsome boy, clearly his father’s son. No, she couldn’t include him among the children – he was only a few months younger than she was. But Adele, another of Colin’s children, was sixteen, as was Harrison’s son Maxwell, and there were a few fourteen-year-olds.
She watched Jeff Cooke a moment more and wondered if he entertained thoughts of marriage yet. Probably not. Why would he? The Triple-C was the only wife he needed for a few more years. Or maybe not – maybe he longed to break from his family as much as she did.
Rufi herded her charges toward the food table Belle, Sadie and Edith were organizing. “Do you need any help?”
“No, dear,” Sadie said. “You keep an eye on the little ones. Honoria’s sitting by the creek. Why don’t you introduce yourself to her?”
“Thank you, I will.” She took Truly by the hand. “Sebastian, Thatcher, Hugh …” She glanced around. “Where’s Alastair?”
“Right here, lass,” Mr. MacDonald came around the huge tree trunk, with a giggling Alastair tucked under one beefy arm. “Best ye keep a closer eye.” He set the child at her feet.
“Alastair!” she said. “What were you doing over there?”
“He’s drawn to the water, as most are at that age,” Mr. MacDonald said. “He’s what, three?”
“Three and a half.” She ruffled the child’s hair. “Same as his twin brother Hugh.”
Mr. MacDonald looked over the children gathered around her. “Ye’ll make a fine mother one day, lass. Looks like ye’ve lots of practice.”
“More than I’d like, really.” She spied Honoria in a chair by what looked like a lovely swimming hole. “Mr. MacDonald, are you busy at the moment?”
“Nay, lass. What can I do for ye?”
“I’d like to introduce myself to Honoria. Could you help me keep an eye on the children while I do so? I’d hate for one of them to fall in the water.”
“I am at yer service.” He bowed. Today he’d forgone the buckskins for an honest-to-goodness Scotch plaid that made him look like visiting royalty.
“Have you heard anything more about Melvale’s bird?”
“Nay, lass. No one’s seen any sign o’ it. Ye and C.J. were the only ones that have come across anything.”
Rufi searched their surroundings. “Have C.J. and the Van Cleets arrived yet?”
“Not yet. But dinna worry, they’ll be here soon.” He winked, then got down on all fours. “Come here, ye wee heathens,” he said to the boys. “Do ye think ye can take me?”
Sebastian’s eyes rounded to saucers. “He’s asking?”
Rufi laughed. “Go ahead, see if you can get him on the ground. Just like you do with your papa.”
Sebastian took one look at her, roared and ran at the Scot. Thatcher, five, knew this game and followed his cousin. Hugh and Alastair were more hesitant and inched their way toward the chaos.
Mrs. MacDonald came around the tree, took one look at the children trying to pile on top of the big man (and failing) and laughed. “That’s right, get him!”
Honoria turned in her chair, a book in her hand. “What’s going on back there?”
Mrs. MacDonald laughed again. “Nothing, just boys being boys.”
“Boys learning to be boys, ye mean,” her husband said.
“Whatever you say, cowboy.” She took Rufi’s hand and headed for Honoria.
Truly tugged at her other hand and whined. “What is it?” Rufi asked.
The child pointed at her brothers, now on top of the prone Scot. He looked like he was playing dead.
“They’re playing rough, Truly. You might get hurt.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. MacDonald took Truly by the hand. “Trust me, this will be good for him.” She led Truly to the pile. “Dallan, here’s another one. Be careful, she’s very small.”
“I’ll no let her get hurt.” His reply was muffled by the grass. At this point the boys were jumping on top of him, tackling at will. He raised his face and crossed his eyes at Truly. Mrs. MacDonald watched in amusement as the big Scot pried an arm from beneath his body and held it out to the toddler. Truly jumped on it with a squeal of delight.
Rufi realized the MacDonalds had brought no children with them. Did they have any? Was she … barren? Best not to ask. Some women were very touchy about such things.
Honoria smiled as Rufi and Mrs. MacDonald joined her. “He looks good in children.”
Parthena, Colin and Belle’s youngest daughter, approached. “That looks like fun.”
“Aren’t you a little old for that?” Honoria asked.
“Not with someone his size!” She ran to the pileup, found an empty spot and jumped on. Mr. MacDonald grunted, then, to everyone’s surprise, laughed. “Any more?”
Mrs. MacDonald beamed. “Yes, he wears them very well.”
Honoria offered Rufi her hand. “Hello. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet you the other day.”
Rufi glanced at Honoria’s growing belly. “I understand.” She shook her hand. “I’m Rufina Cucinotta, but you can call me Rufi.”
“Honoria Comfort. My husband Major is around here somewhere. I’ll introduce you later.” She rubbed her belly and smiled as Mr. MacDonald turned onto his back, children falling off as he did. They got up and tackled him again. “I trust you’re looking forward to children one day?”
Rufi and Mrs. MacDonald both turned to her and said “yes.”
Honoria laughed. “I was talking to Mrs. MacDonald, but it’s nice to know you are too.”
Rufi blushed. “I have to get married first, of course.”
“Of course.” Honoria nodded at the Scot, now covered with several more bodies, all boys. “My cousins are too big for that sort of thing,” Honoria said. “Do you want me to break it up?”
Mrs. MacDonald shook her head. “It’s quite all right. So long as the little ones don’t get hurt. Dallan has had a lot of practice in … wrestling, and he’s very careful.”
“Well, all right,” Honoria said with raised eyebrows. She rubbed her belly again and smiled. “I hope Major does as well. Most men are afraid a child will break if they play with one. Especially when they’re small.”
Rufi automatically searched the trail for C.J. and the Van Cleets, but there was still no sign of them. Maybe they weren’t coming. She felt a sudden disappointment that surprised her.
“Is something the matter?” Honoria asked.
“I was just wondering if the Van Cleets will make it.”
“Of course they will,” Honoria said. “Cyrus loves these picnics. He’ll be here.”
Rufi smiled. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want him to miss it.”
“Or C.J.?” Mrs. MacDonald added with a wink.
Rufi blushed again.
“What’s t
his?” Honoria said, eyes bright with curiosity.
Rufi sighed. No use hiding it. “C.J. Branson. He’s, um, supposed to be coming with the Van Cleets.”
“You don’t have to sound so blasé about it,” Mrs. MacDonald said. “It’s okay to like the man.”
Rufi brushed her hand against her skirt. “I know. I can like whomever I want. It’s just that …”
“Your relatives think otherwise?” Mrs. MacDonald clarified.
“Exactly,” Rufi said with another sigh.
“Sometimes family members need time to realize they can’t control everything in our lives,” Honoria said. “In my case, my father. But you probably already know that. Everyone here does.”
Rufi giggled. “I’ve heard. But would he object to you leaving home?”
Honoria gazed across the meadow at Harrison and the other men. “He wouldn’t be thrilled, I can tell you that. But he’d get used to it after a while.”
“I don’t think my family would ever get used to it,” Rufi said. “They’d expect my husband to live on our farm with us.”
“So you like this Mr. Branson?” Honoria said brightly.
Rufi’s eyes widened as she realized that yes, she did like C.J. Why else would she try to kiss him? “I do,” she confessed, gazing at the trail again. And here they came – C.J. seated in the back of the Van Cleets’ wagon. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
“There he is now,” Mrs. MacDonald said. “You should greet them and tell them to come get something to eat. Looks like the food is ready.”
Rufi nodded and headed across the meadow. By the time she got there, Mr. Van Cleet was parking the wagon near the others. “Good afternoon,” she said, shading her eyes from the sun.
“Afternoon,” C.J. hopped down, helped Mrs. Van Cleet off the wagon seat, then did the same for Mr. Van Cleet, careful to do it so that the older man wouldn’t feel helpless. How very kind.
“We’re sorry we’re late,” Mr. Van Cleet said. “But I had some things to do at the hotel before we could head out.”
“I don’t think anyone minds,” Rufi assured him. “The food is ready – you arrived just in time.”
“Wonderful,” the old woman said. She was petite and frail-looking but just as sprightly as her husband. “I’m Polly. You must be Rufi. Cyrus and C.J. told me all about you.”
Rufi looked at the latter and her cheeks grew hot. Oh dear. Did admitting she liked him cause her reaction? Her stomach was doing funny little somersaults, just like the other day …
“You look lovely,” he told her, stepping closer. “As always.”
Her blush deepened. “Thank you.” She looked him over. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.” Oh heavens, did she just say that?
To her surprise, he blushed. “Thanks.” He went around to the back of the wagon and took out some folded blankets.
“Come along, dear,” Cyrus told his wife. “Let’s get you settled in the shade. Oh look, there’s Mrs. MacDonald. And what are all those children doing?”
“Tackling Mr. MacDonald,” Rufi laughed.
“Now this I have to see.” Cyrus offered Polly his arm. “Shall we?”
As the Van Cleets strolled away, Rufi realized she hadn’t had one thought of Melvale since C.J. arrived. He usually entered her mind at some point and she’d begin comparing the two. But today that wasn’t happening – she only had eyes for C.J. Maybe telling Honoria and Mrs. MacDonald she liked him did more than she thought. She remembered that he wanted to talk to her today, and hoped it wasn’t to scold her for trying to kiss him. If any of her family found out, she’d never hear the end of it.
C.J. cleared his throat to get her attention, then offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
She took it with a smile, and they strolled toward the giant oak and the food tables.
The Cooke women greeted Cyrus, hugged Polly, then insisted on fixing them plates. By now the other men were heading back from setting up targets, and as soon as they spotted Cyrus and his wife, they picked up the pace. “Polly!” Harrison greeted. “It’s so nice to see you up and around.”
“It’s nice to be up and around,” she commented with a laugh. “It’s nice to be doing anything, and I have Mrs. MacDonald to thank. She gave me one of her concoctions and I feel wonderful.”
“She’s a good at that,” Colin said. “I’m glad they happen to be in town.”
“Even if it’s to look for Clyde?” Polly said with another laugh. “Has anyone actually seen him?”
“Of course not,” Duncan added. “Now that we’re actually looking for him. Though C.J. did find a feather a few days ago.”
“Is that right?” Polly smile.
“Yes,” Rufi turned to him. “Do you still have it?”
“No, I gave it to Melvale.”
“Oh, that delightful man,” Polly clapped her hands. “Is he coming? I forgot to ask.”
“He said he’d try,” Cyrus told her. “Said he had letters to write or some such thing.”
“I do hope he makes it,” she said. “He’s fascinating to talk to.”
“You’ve spoken with him?” Rufi asked, more to test if he’d permeate her thoughts than anything else. So far, so good on that score. Perhaps she’d only been infatuated the last few days.
“Of course, dear – he came to see me every day,” Polly said. “But I forgot to ask if he was attending the picnic.”
Rufi glanced at C.J., but he wasn’t rolling his eyes or frowning at the mention of Melvale. He’d made it clear at the Triple-C that he didn’t trust the man. Maybe that was what he wanted to talk to her about. Had something happened since then? She was confused - C.J. had found the man as fascinating as everyone else did at first … “Did you still want to speak with me today?” she asked quietly. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked at all, but the suspense was annoying her.
“Yes, I do,” he said, voice just as low. He looked around. “When we get a chance. Right now go ahead and enjoy yourself.”
She looked for Calvin and Benjamin, but they were nowhere in sight. Harlan and Ma were gone too. Charity had joined Honoria and Mrs. MacDonald watching the children play with Mr. MacDonald. “I wonder where the rest of my family is?”
“I’m sure they’re at the creek exploring,” Cyrus said. “Harlan probably wanted to show them where we have our annual tug-of-war contest.”
Polly laughed. “Yes, I’ve heard your family knows all about our town. I imagine Harlan is showing them his favorite fishing spots as well.”
Rufi smile then looked at C.J. “If that’s the case, now is as good a time as any. I’m not sure you’ll get a better chance.”
His eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”
She sheepishly nodded.
“Very well then.” He watched the others for a moment, then took her hand and headed for the creek.
As he pulled her along, Rufi suspected he wouldn’t scold her. But what were his plans? As inexperienced as she was, how could she know? Regardless, she was about to find out.
Chapter Seventeen
They reached the creek and began to follow a trail upstream – probably the same one Harlan took, Rufi thought. “Do you really think we should go this way?”
“Don’t worry,” C.J. said, “we’ll cross the creek and find a spot to sit and talk.”
She followed him for a few minutes until he found a part of the creek narrow and shallow enough to wade. She watched him take off his boots and socks, then found a log and began removing her own.
“Don’t bother,” he told her. “I can carry you.”
Her eyes widened. The thought of being in his arms sent a thrill through her. “What if someone sees us?”
He waved at their surroundings. “Is anyone around?”
“Well … no.”
“You worry too much.” He stuffed his socks into his boots and threw them, one at a time, to the opposite bank. Then he noticed her wringing her hands and staring at the water. “What’s the matter – can’t yo
u swim?”
“Yes, I can. I’m just afraid you’re going to drop me.” Truth be told, that wasn’t the only thing she was worried he’d do. This was all new to her.
He laughed. “Oh ye of little faith.” Without warning he scooped her into his arms, ignoring her yelp of surprise. “Cyrus told me this spot has a sandy bottom, not a lot of rocks. We’ll be fine.” He stepped into the water and headed across.
Rufi’s heart pounded in her ears. “Can you swim?”
“Of course. So what are you really afraid of?” He stopped in the middle of the creek and adjusted her in his arms. “Not dropping you, I think.” He looked into her eyes and continued on.
Rufi did her best to calm her breathing. When he first swung her into his arms she’d started panting. For Heaven’s sake, she didn’t want to sound like a dog.
Soon they got to the other side and he set her on her feet. “There. Told you I could do it.”
“I never said you couldn’t.” She brushed at her skirt and patted her hair nervously. “Thank you for not letting me get wet.”
He laughed and bowed. “The pleasure was all mine, milady.” He straightened, retrieved his boots and put them back on, then took her hand and led her toward the trees.
“What are you doing?” she asked, trying not to sound panicked at being alone with him now.
“Rufi, I don’t want anyone listening in on our conversation.” He pointed at a log in front of some tall bushes.
“Fine. But we go back as soon as we’re done. Besides, I think I know what you’re going to say.”
“Really?” He started off again. “Can you read my mind?”
As soon as she reached the log she sat. “It’s about that kiss.”
He froze, stunned. “What kiss?”
“At the Triple-C?” she prompted.
He folded his arms and stared down at her. “We didn’t kiss at the Triple-C. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”
She stared up at him as she realized how silly she sounded. “We … almost did.”
C.J. burst out laughing, then caught himself, sat and took her hand. “Rufi, I didn’t ask you to come out here to talk about a kiss that never happened. But now that you’ve brought it up …” He brushed a stray wisp of her hair from her face. “… I wouldn’t mind talking about it.”