“I see.” Preacher Reynolds didn’t look like he understood, but at least he wasn’t insisting on marrying her off right away.
“Would you mind stoking the fire, Preacher, while I tend to Miss Wharton?”
“Not at all. Seems like you have plenty of women now to properly chaperone.”
Heaven watched as the preacher left the room. Why didn’t Dr. Logan want to marry her? Mary. Maybe he was already married to Mary. She stifled a giggle. But what if he wasn’t? He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. The laughter died in her throat. He didn’t want to marry her. Why did that hurt?
Another rejection—this time brought on by a man and not caused by a bullet. Jake. If he were here, he would marry her, and he wouldn’t wait until the weekend. She didn’t even know Dr. Logan, not like she knew Jake. Even if Dr. Logan looked good enough to sop up with a biscuit, that didn’t mean she wanted to marry him. He wanted her home, but not her and Angel. This marriage business must have been Angel’s solution. She would give that girl a detailed lecture on why that was not only improper but disrespectful to make up such a lie.
Dr. Logan returned to the stool and picked up her foot. “I need to get this bound. Would you like some more laudanum? I’m afraid what I gave you earlier has worn off by now.”
Why did his eyes have to look so kind, comforting even? His calm manner and easy touch with her ankle even made her feel secure.
“No, I don’t want any more. I still don’t feel normal, so perhaps there is still some residue?”
“You are looking a bit peaked. It’d be better not to take it if you can handle the pain from the movement.” He unwrapped the cloth that he’d started before the interruption of company. “I have to start over. This must be wound tightly or it won’t give you enough support.”
Mrs. Reynolds peered over Dr. Logan’s shoulder.
“Ma’am, if you could move to the bed, I believe I could do a better job of this. If you’d hold Heaven’s hand, she can squeeze it when she hurts. Then she might not have to scream, scaring all of us and keeping me from having to do this again.”
Her brown hair, twisted into curls around her face, didn’t correspond with her expression, which was anything but lovely, since it was screwed up with displeasure. “Yes Dr. Logan. I can see where that would be helpful.” The thick material of Mrs. Reynolds’s dress rustled, unlike the soft cotton his sisters wore.
Mrs. Reynolds perched on the edge of the bed. “Give me your hand, dear.”
Heaven placed her hand in the open palm. She wasn’t sure if she hoped she had to squeeze hard enough to make Mrs. Reynolds squeal or not. She’d like to, but that would be just like cutting off her nose to spite someone else, as Pa would say. As if anyone would cut off their own nose. She sniffled. She missed him, missed him badly.
Dr. Logan lifted Heaven’s ankle, and pain spiked straight up through to her hip. She wrapped her fingers tight around Sister Reynolds’s.
“Oh my, but you have a good grip.” Mrs. Reynolds peeled Heaven’s fingers from hers.
Heaven wanted to smack her. Maybe she should scream next time. That would no doubt be considered the proper thing decorum necessitated, rather than being too strong.
“Are you almost done, Dr. Logan?” She would like to watch his hands wrapping her ankle so she could do it herself. Doing so would likely send Mrs. Reynolds back to the marriage discussion. Instead, she tried to imagine how those lovely locks of hair would feel in her hand. She felt the fabric of her skirt being arranged across her toes.
“Yes ma’am. I’m finished now. Mrs. Reynolds, perhaps you could get clean sheets on the bed for Heaven. I think the girls might want to sleep together tonight. Rest assured I’ll be sleeping in the barn.”
Clean sheets? Heaven hoped the ones in the trunk were decent. She’d been washing Pa’s sheets and putting them back on the bed as soon as they dried. At least there was another set. Heaven glanced at Mrs. Reynolds. “I’d be grateful to you, ma’am. Angel can help you.”
“You do look plum tuckered out. I’ll do that, but I reckon you should come back home with us.” Mrs. Reynolds patted Heaven’s arm. “You can’t stay here alone.”
“I’m not alone. Angel’s here.”
“She can come, too, of course.”
“My animals need taking care of.” She wasn’t leaving her cabin. Enough people and things had been taken away from her, and she wouldn’t stand to lose one more. If she moved out, it was as good as giving up.
“I’ll stay on awhile. They’re going to need help,” Travis said. “I can sleep in the barn and take care of the animals while Miss Wharton’s an—. While she heals. She’ll be up and around in about a week.”
Why didn’t he tell them he owned the land now, that Pa had given it to him, and that Pa was dead? Could he be reconsidering taking it from them? If that were true, she wouldn’t leave, because if she did, she had a feeling she’d never be coming back. Once it was known her pa was dead, she and Angel would be taken care of. The church family would flock to her aid, insisting she wasn’t capable of taking care of the small homestead and Angel. Then someone would find an old toothless man that could still stand and insist they marry. She didn’t want a husband if it wasn’t Jake—and that was impossible even for God.
“If Dr. Logan will stay in the barn for a few days, I wouldn’t have to trouble anyone to help take care of my animals. Considering how he ended up with a head wound, it would be handy to have a man about the place until I can hold a gun steady.” She might as well become ‘that eccentric spinster’ sooner rather than later.
Mrs. Reynolds stood up, all starch in her veins and her nose slightly in the air. “We’ll ask Preacher Reynolds about what to do. You all keep this door cracked while I’m gone.” Without waiting for a reply, head high she left the tiny room.
Angel followed the motherly Mrs. Reynolds.
“Why didn’t you tell them about Pa and his will?”
“It’s not for me to tell, Miss Wharton. I figured you’d let everyone know when the time is right. Now, if they’d have asked me why I was here, I would have told them, but they didn’t.” Dr. Logan smiled. “That might be considered lying, but in this case, I consider it a chance for you to handle your grief the way you want to.”
Weariness of the day smothered her. She was tired and worried about the future, and this kind man had offered her a gift—a time to recover before her world fell like bird feathers from a cat’s mouth.
Mrs. Reynolds rushed in the room, tears dripping from her eyes. “You poor soul. Angel told us about your father.”
“I’m sure it was this laudanum that kept her from speaking out, and I didn’t feel it my place to inform you.” Dr. Logan held Heaven’s eyes with his, making her feel all warm inside. “I believe they need some time alone to take in the loss.”
“Dr. Logan, I mean no disrespect, but these girls need to be comforted with a woman’s touch, and leaving them alone will not accomplish that.”
“None taken, Mrs. Reynolds; however, it has been my experience the family needs time to grieve amongst themselves before they have to put on a brave face for others. With this recent loss, I would expect that to be most important. If they want to come into town tomorrow, I’ll be happy to bring them.”
“We’ll need to have a service for Mr. Wharton soon. Even though there’s no body, the family needs to do something to honor the dead,” Preacher Reynolds said from behind his wife. “Perhaps it would be best to plan on that rather than a wedding?”
Angel buried her head in Heaven’s shoulder and hiccupped a sob. Heaven gathered her closer. The poor child had been through more than enough tragedy this year. Both of them had. How would she ever help her sister to feel secure again?
“If you think that best, Preacher.”
“I do, and this man is a healer, so it will be fine for him to sleep in the barn. And, Mrs. Reynolds, I know your proclivity for helping people, but I think tonight it would be best not to mention this to the other ladie
s in town.”
“I do not gossip. I’m very careful with my choice of words, sir. I don’t appreciate you disparaging my character in front of these fine people, especially the doctor.” Mrs. Reynolds put a hand to her chest. “Is that what you want, Heaven? To be alone tonight? I could stay here, I suppose.” She glanced around the room. “There doesn’t seem to be a place for me to sleep.”
“Don’t make us go. I don’t want to go, Heaven.” Angel’s muffled voice sounded far away to Heaven. Right now nothing seemed real to her.
“Yes ma’am. I want to stay in my home. Angel and I would feel closer to our pa here, and I’m tuckered out. I can’t imagine a ride into town with my ankle. We’ll be fine, especially with Dr. Logan out in the barn.”
“Then I’ll put some dinner together for you and tidy up before we leave. Preacher, since Dr. Logan is wounded as well, you can help me by tending the animals and fixing a bed for him out in the barn.”
“There’s no need to fix dinner for us, Mrs. Reynolds. We have a nice stew left from yesterday that can be reheated.”
“At least let me get the biscuits rolled out for you. I wish I’d have brought along one of the pies I made today. We were in such a rush, I forgot about them. We could ride back to the house and get it, maybe bring back a few other things to eat as well so we could join you for supper.”
“No, really, you’ve done enough.” Heaven was glad the woman didn’t ask what she’d done other than cause Heaven distress. “I’m not hungry. Are you, Angel? Doctor?”
Dr. Logan shook his head. “I’m ready to rest more than eat.” “Not hungry,” Angel said, but her face at the mention of pie had said otherwise.
Heaven wondered if Angel thought the Reynolds’s might change their minds about them staying at the cabin if they had time to ride to town and back.
Preacher Reynolds carried Heaven to the rocker in front of the fire. Heaven figured it was so she could visit with Mrs. Reynolds as she worked. Heaven would rather have been stuck in the chicken coop or out in the barn with Mr. Jackson. “There, now you’re settled. Dr. Logan, why don’t you come with me to the barn, and we’ll scout out a place for your bedroll.” Dr. Logan nodded. “I’d like to check on my horse.” “I’m coming, too.” Angel bolted for the door. “Angel.” Heaven wanted Angel to stay. She didn’t want to be left alone with Mrs. Reynolds. Besides, would those men be capable of watching out for her sister?
Angel halted. “Please? I want to pet Dr. Logan’s horse, and Mr. Jackson needs petting.” “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Mrs. Reynolds came up from the root cellar with a jar of green beans and set them on the table. “I looked at your stew, and I think some of these”—she held up the jar—”would be a nice addition, and it looks like you have a lot of them to use up.”
“That we do. Great-Uncle Neal apparently had a great fondness for the vegetable.” Heaven hoped the woman hadn’t taken the time to inspect the lack of any other kind of vegetables in the cellar.
Mrs. Reynolds took a bowl from the kitchen shelf and placed it on the table. She started adding flour, lard, and water to make the biscuits. “You’re almost out of flour. Should I bring some up from the cellar?”
“No. We’ll get it when it’s needed.” Heaven didn’t want her to know there was none left.
“Your great-uncle was an interesting man, you know. He worked at the cotton gin and never missed a Sunday service. Shame he never found a good woman to marry.”
“Maybe so, but if he had, we wouldn’t be living here.”
“The good Lord has interesting ways of carrying out a plan, doesn’t He?” Mrs. Reynolds flopped the dough on the floured tabletop and rolled it with a pin. “Why don’t you close your eyes and rest while you have a chance, dear?”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Heaven closed her eyes. At least this way she wouldn’t have to keep up her end of the conversation.
After the rumble of the Reynolds’s carriage wheels faded, Heaven turned to Dr. Logan. “Thank you for giving us at least one night alone.”
“They’ll be back, you know.” He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and plunked down.
“I hope so.” Angel hunkered down by her sister’s feet close to the fire while Heaven brushed her hair. “Last time when Ma died, they brought pie. Remember, Heaven?”
“Yes I do. You ate so much pecan pie you got sick.” Responsibility burdened her shoulders. Her sister should have pie, meat, and a family. Could she ever hope to fill Angel’s needs? Exhaustion filled her body. Her eyelids felt heavy, and the brush she used on Angel’s hair weighed more than Mr. Jackson.
“Miss Wharton?”
Startled awake, she straightened in the chair. The brush now rested in Dr. Logan’s palm. When had he taken it from her? Anxiety poked its fingernail into her heart. “Angel?”
“She’s fine. I finished her hair and sent her to bed. She’s waiting for you. I thought I’d carry you there before I head out to the barn.”
Carry her? For a moment, she’d forgotten about her ankle. As nice as it would feel to be cradled by someone, she wouldn’t allow herself that pleasure. “I can do it.”
He sighed. “I thought you’d say that.” He reached down and snatched her up before she could breathe in and out.
“Put me down.”
“No. You’re my patient now. I want you to get better. Tomorrow I’ll fashion a crutch for you, and you’ll be able to get around without further injury. Tonight I’m taking you to bed.”
She watched his face grow red and felt the heat of her own body betraying her.
“Th–thank you.” It was only a few steps to the small bedroom, and Heaven couldn’t help but wish it were miles away. For one brief second, she allowed herself to feel the safety of those strong arms. Too soon she was in her pa’s bed with Angel.
“I’ll get the lamps extinguished and the fire banked before I head out to the barn. Is there anything else you might need?”
Her nightclothes, but she wasn’t about to ask him to get them. “I can’t think of a thing.”
The lamplight flickered, giving the room a comforting glow that begged her to rest. Or was it the man in the room that made her feel safer than she had in a long time?
Chapter 9
Travis strolled around inside the barn, stretching his arms over his head trying to loosen the kinks that had settled in overnight. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to sleeping on a hard surface. He much preferred a soft bed. He should’ve known not to spend money on another horse to breed with Pride and Joy. At least not until he’d ridden out and checked the property Caleb had left to him.
This little complication of having to add a wife and her sister to his life didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t like being a pawn any more than Heaven. But he was stuck. He had to take Heaven with the farm; otherwise, he’d leave them defenseless. His hand brushed his wound. Maybe not defenseless, but not crack shots either.
Caleb’s last will and testament would stick in a court of law as far as the farm went, but not the part about Heaven. And it shouldn’t. Isn’t that what this war had ended up changing? Owning people? Heaven’s father didn’t own her, and neither did he. Most likely, the old codger just wanted him to leave his daughters cared for. He hadn’t mentioned Angel though, and that bothered him until he remembered Caleb’s days were filled with thrashing, sweating, and convulsing. Just because he didn’t mention his youngest daughter didn’t mean he had no love for her. Travis knew he couldn’t leave Caleb’s daughters to fend for themselves. They could be hurt and forced out of their home. Not to mention the farm was in dire need of repairs. And that is why he had to marry Heaven, like Caleb wanted. Like Caleb ordered in his will. But he didn’t want to. He wanted a wife and family after he had his horse farm thriving.
Travis was glad the cabin wasn’t all sissified. There wasn’t a doily to be seen or a cozy draped over a china teapot. He didn’t mind all that stuff as long as
it wasn’t in his house. A good house needed a chair by the fire, a bed, and a stove big enough to heat the house. Apparently Heaven felt the same way. There might be hope for a compatible match between them. There was a spark; he knew that yesterday when their hands touched on that coffee cup. He felt it and knew she did, too, by the way that cup almost landed on his lap.
A goat bumped against Travis’s hip.
Light spilled in as Angel came through the barn door.
“Good morning, Angel.”
“Morning.”
He scratched the goat’s ear. “Friendly goat, aren’t you?”
She ran her hand across the goat’s back. “Mr. Jackson is my friend. Mrs. Jackson isn’t as friendly. You have to be careful around her, because she’ll knock you down.”
He wondered whose idea it had been to name the goats like married people. He found it odd but funny to be addressing the animals like people.
“You want to meet Mrs. Jackson?”
“I’d like that.”
She took his hand, and together they walked to a stall containing an all-white goat. A pregnant goat.
“We don’t know why she’s so mean. We keep her locked up so she doesn’t hurt us.”
“Has she always been ill-tempered?”
“No sir. When we got her, they both were nice, but they didn’t have names and they were always together, so I named them Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. And she stopped giving milk, too. We haven’t had cheese in a long time”
“Might be because she’s expecting a little one. They get that way sometimes.”
“A baby goat?” Angel squealed and then steepled her hands against her mouth while she bounced on her toes. “When’s it going to be here?”
“I’m not sure.” It was the wrong time of the year for a birthing. He wondered at God’s wisdom of bringing another chance of grief for the small girl bursting with excitement. Then again, God’s wisdom in this entire predicament had him wondering.
A black kitten scampered across the floor followed by a gray and white one. At least there won’t be a mouse problem. That would have been easier to fix than the one waiting inside the cabin.
Bride's Dilemma in Friendship, Tennessee Page 9