Robin

by Julane Hiebert

  John shook his head. “Not tonight. Maybe if he gets lonesome enough he’ll think about it.”

  Ty frowned. The sly old fox. He was up to something. What did he mean ‘never can tell who might beat you to it’? Did he know about this Benson guy?

  ###

  Robin stopped the sway of the swing with her good foot and clasped her hands in her lap. Why would Uncle John leave her alone with Ty? Didn’t he know how awkward it would be?

  Ty sat in the wicker chair facing her swing, his long legs stretched in front of him. “It’s good to see you, Robin. I take it your hands have healed or Emma wouldn’t have allowed you to come home.”

  “Doc Mercer’s miracle cure did the trick.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. “Did you and Jacob get along well?”

  “Very well. Don’t have to wonder what he’s thinking, do you?”

  “Did he ask you why the moon doesn’t fall if stars fall? He asked me and I told him maybe you’d know.” Banter about Jacob would keep things lighter.

  Ty laughed. “That was thoughtful of you, Miss Wenghold.”

  Robin peered into the dusk. “Did Sam recognize him? Was there any trouble?”

  “I didn’t take any chances. Rusty knows I want to protect the boy and is aware of my suspicions that Sam might recognize him, so he sent Sam away for a few days.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Away? Where? Could you trust him not to sneak back?”

  “The Hawk’s a big ranch, Robin. It wasn’t hard to find a place to keep him busy. Rusty trusts him. Besides, if he’s up to no good, we’ll find it out sooner or later. Jacob was in no danger. I kept him with me all the time.” He frowned. “Trust me. He was as safe at the Hawk as he’s been over here.”

  “I wasn’t implying he wasn’t safe, Ty. I only voiced the same concerns I thought you had.” Why was there a lump in her throat? She didn’t want Ty to see her in tears, ever again.

  Giggles and shouts announced Jacob’s return. “Robin! I missed you.” He hopped into the swing beside her and sent it swaying. “Ty has a swing, too. I liked it. But he don’t cook good. Did you miss me?”

  Robin pulled the boy onto her lap and wrapped both arms around him. “I missed you so much I won’t ever let you go.” She laughed while he struggled to get out of her grip. “Nope, little man. You have to stay here forever.”

  Jacob pried her hands away and scooted to the other end of the swing. “I couldn’t get loose when Ty tickled me. He’s bigger. And Ty teached me to ride a horse all by myself. Did you see me, Robin?” He straddled the arm of the swing and mimicked a riding motion.

  Robin used her toe to stop the swing’s movement. The rocking motion, and Ty’s close proximity, did nothing for her swirling stomach. “Emma sent some cookies with us. Would you like a glass of milk and cookies before you go to bed?”

  “Aww, do I have to go to bed?”

  Ty chuckled. “Hey, buddy. You had to go to bed at my house, too, you know.”

  Jacob hopped from the swing and stood in front of Robin. “You should see my bed at Ty’s house.” He held his hand above his shoulder. “It’s this bigger than me. Ty had to lift me in. You should stay all night there sometime, Robin. There’s another room nobody sleeps in and it’s real purty. It’s yellow. I sawed it. And I bet Ty would help you get in bed if it’s bigger than you. He’s real nice.”

  John cleared his throat. “Ty, if you wouldn’t mind fetchin’ the milk from the well, I’ll get some cups and the cookies. Jacob, boy, I’m thinkin’ you probably ought to think about lettin’ somebody else talk a while.” He winked at Robin.

  Both men left the porch with silly grins on their faces.

  Jacob wrapped his hands around Robin’s arm and laid his head on her shoulder. “I wish Ty lived here. Don’t you?”

  Robin couldn’t answer. Why, oh why, hadn’t she let Emma come?

  EIGHTEEN

  The unmistakable wail of a train whistle broke the stillness of the prairie, and Robin shifted on the hard wooden bench of John’s wagon. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was being pokey on purpose. Though he’d never admit it, she believed her uncle to be as apprehensive about William Benson’s arrival as she was. Now William would probably be waiting at the depot when they arrived. She’d so hoped she’d get there first and have time to . . . to what? The small train station in Cedar Bluff certainly didn’t offer the amenity of a washroom so she could freshen up. Robin fingered the lace collar on the new blue dress Emma had tucked away in her valise as a surprise. How silly to be so nervous. She’d known William for as long as she could remember, but could she ever see him as more than a friend?

  “I wish I could’ve stayed with Ty.” Jacob huffed, crossed his arms, and stuck out his bottom lip.

  Robin fought to keep her voice calm. “We’ve gone over and over this, Jacob.” She had deliberately waited to tell the boy about William’s visit until this morning. Perhaps that wasn’t such a wise decision, but Jacob would surely announce it to Ty Morgan.

  “Will he like me?” Jacob’s eyes grew round. “Is he a nice man?”

  Robin put her arm around the boy and pulled him close. “Do you think I would let him come for a visit, all the way from Chicago, if he were a bad man? Of course he’s nice.”

  “But will he like me? Ty likes me. He told me when you was getting your hands all better.”

  “He told you? Did you ask him, Jacob? It’s not polite to ask questions that might make people say things they don’t want to say.” She needed to avert his questions about William. She didn’t know if William would like him. What if he didn’t?

  “Is that him a standin’ there holdin’ up the wall of the depot?” John flicked the reins across the horses’ backs. “Hup there, you lazy animals. Doggone, the way you been lollygaggin’ over every tuft of grass between here and the Feather, a body would think I never fed ya.” He turned to Robin and winked. “That there fella don’t look like no city slicker to me. Suppose your Mr. Benson got lost?”

  Their wagon pulled along the station platform and Robin’s breath caught. This man certainly didn’t look like the William she remembered. Clad in dark gray britches and black boots—the white and gray striped shirt contrasting sharply with the tan of his face—this person didn’t look like anyone she knew. But when he pushed away from the wall and stood, legs apart and hands behind his back, she recognized all too well his familiar stance.

  Robin ducked her head.Oh, dear little Wren, you did not exaggerate. He does look delicious.

  ###

  William Benson peered at the wagon approaching the station. The tilt of the woman’s head left no doubt. He’d often teased Robin for her strange little habit of turning her head to one side when she studied something—or someone.You even look like a robin, you know—cocking your head like that. That’s what they do before they go after the worm.

  When the older man stepped from the wagon, William walked to the end of the platform and reached for his hand. “Will Benson, sir. I’m glad to meet you.”

  John laughed. “Pshaw. You ain’t so glad to see me as you are that pretty little gal sittin’ beside me. But to be mannerly, so I don’t make her blush any more’n she already is, I’m glad to meet you, too.”

  William smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Hello Robin. You did get my letter, didn’t you?”

  “Course she got your letter,” John grumbled. “You think we make a habit of meanderin’ up to the train depot to pick up whatever warm body what might be tiltin’ his shoulders against the wall?”

  William nodded. “I guess that was a dumb question. Forgive me. It’s just that you look a bit surprised.”

  “Well, she is surprised. And I’m downright befuddled. Ya certainly don’t look like no city slicker to me.” John walked all the way around him. “Nope, son. You ain’t no city slicker.”

  “What’s a city licker, Robin?” The little boy hadn’t taken his eyes off him since they stopped the wagon. Wary? Frightened? Who
was he? Why was he with Robin? He surely wasn’t the older man’s child.

  William knelt on the platform. “A city slicker, young man, is what they call someone who doesn’t know a thing about a ranch.” He reached for the boy’s hand. “My name is William, but you can call me Will. And you are . . . ?”

  The boy didn’t answer until Robin nodded. “Robin said I’m supposed to call you Mr. Benson. My name is Jacob. You can call me Jacob.”

  “Well, now, perhaps we can get Miss Robin to change her mind once we get better acquainted. Do you think that might be possible?” He winked at Robin, and nodded in response to her mouthed thank you.

  John pointed to the leather valise. “This all you brung? Thought you was a stayin’ a while.”

  “I thought I might purchase some items locally. Mr. Rempel mentioned Emma’s Mercantile. Does she carry men’s clothing?”

  “She don’t carry many fancy things. Got britches and shirts, I reckon.” He grinned at Robin and her face turned red. Apparently, it was a private joke.

  “Robin has some man clothes. You could borrow some from her.” Jacob grinned. “She can’t wear ‘em no more cuz Uncle John gets—”

  “That’s enough, boy.” John scowled.

  The smile slid off Jacob’s face, and he snuggled closer to Robin.

  “If this is all you got, then we better get.” John lifted the valise into the wagon.

  “There is one more thing, but I’ll fetch it, Mr. Wenghold.” William pulled a large trunk forward. “I believe this belongs to you, Miss Robin.” He bowed.

  “My trunk! Oh, William, how did you know?”

  “A little bird told me.” He laughed. “As a matter of fact, two little birds made double sure I wouldn’t forget it. Wren said you would be so happy to receive it, you might even give me a kiss.” He leaned toward her.

  “Stop it, William.” She pushed him away.

  “If I’d a knowed you was a gonna start courtin’ before ya even got in the wagon, I’d a sent Robin in alone.”

  William settled the trunk into the back of the wagon and climbed in beside Robin. “Here, Jacob. Want to sit with me?” He placed the boy on his lap and wrapped his arms around his middle. “You know, Mr. Wenghold. I don’t ever remember not knowing your niece. And would you believe, after all these years, I still haven’t gotten a kiss from her?”

  Jacob clasped his hands on top of William’s. “Ty don’t kiss her, neither. But I think he wants to.”

  “And who is Ty?” Surely Robin hadn’t been here long enough to have a beau? Who would be available in Kansas? A cowboy? She deserved better than that.

  “Ty likes me. He might be my pa someday. I been praying. Ty is big, like you Mr. Benson. And he’s not a city licker, either.”

  NINETEEN

  The first evening star was visible, though it was still quite light. Robin loved this time of evening, right before the last burst of sunset changed to the whisper-gray of night. Cicadas hummed their eerie undulating song and a mocking bird perched somewhere close by and whistled through its repertoire.

  William came onto the porch and Robin took a deep breath. His apparent ease did nothing for her quaking nerves. If only she could have a few moments alone before the inevitable visit with him.You two run along and enjoy the evening. Me and Jacob will tend to the cleanin’ up in here. Bless Uncle John. She’d take that up with him another time.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” William pulled a wicker chair next to hers, then leaned back and crossed his long legs. “The meal was wonderful, Robin. But why do I get the feeling you stayed in the kitchen all afternoon on purpose? You’ve been avoiding me, you know.”

  She clasped her hands and willed them to stop shaking. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy.”

  “You’ve been busy staying away from me, my sweet friend. This is William sitting here, not some stranger.”

  Wrong. He was a stranger. She expected the old William—the one who dressed in suits and stiff white shirts with black bow ties. The man she knew parted his hair in the middle and plastered it down with some kind of sweet-smelling oil. William Arthur Benson the Third—the banker’s son from Chicago—was clean shaven, pale faced, and would never sit in the presence of a lady with his shirt collar open like that. She forced her gaze from his chest.

  “I haven’t seen you for nine months, William. In a way, youare a stranger. Why, after all this time, have you suddenly decided to come back into my life?”

  “It isn’t sudden, Robin. I asked you to marry me before your father died. You turned me down. I’m hoping you’ll reconsider. You did read my letter, didn’t you?”

  Robin met his gaze. “Yes, I read your letter. But did you honestly think that by not contacting me in any way during that time, you would endear yourself to me? You’re most confident that no other man in his right mind would consider courting a cripple, aren’t you?” She’d just made trouble for herself. In the past William would not allow her to reference her limp, and from the expression on his face that hadn’t changed.

  William leaned forward and braced his forearms on his legs. “Stop it, Robin. I will not allow you to feel sorry for yourself. You know that.”

  “Nor will I tolerate your pity.” She stood and crossed her arms. “I’ll ask you again. Why are you here?”Robin, why are you doing this?

  William stood and put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her back into her chair. “I’m here because I care for you, Robin.”

  What did she want him to say? That he loved her? She would argue that point, too. Why couldn’t he be the old William? Not this . . . this handsome stranger who seemed as at home on the prairie as he did in Chicago.

  “Look, Robin, can we start over again with this conversation? I didn’t come to fight with you.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You came tocare for me.”

  William frowned. “And what is wrong with my caring for you?”

  “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard Uncle John declare he’d best get out and care for them animals—they don’t care for themselves, you know. You make it sound like caring is a chore to be accomplished.” That was a childish outburst and she knew it. And the smirk on William’s face indicated his knowledge as well.

  “You’re twisting my words. I didn’t say I came to take care of you. I distinctly remember saying I came because I carefor you—as in always have and always will. I don’t see it as something I need to accomplish at all. Friends care, Robin.”

  “And that is how you see us? Friends?” She was talking herself into a corner. William wasn’t afraid to meet her in the middle of the ring and punch back.

  William shrugged. “I will always be your friend. Anything beyond that will be entirely up to you.”

  “So you want me to decide whether I want to remain only a friend, or return to Chicago as your wife. Are those my choices?”

  William leaned back in his chair. “Husbands and wives have been known to be friends, Robin. Now you’re making this sound like some kind of business transaction.” He smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “I think to be safe, we need to change the subject. Tell me about Jacob. Who is he, exactly? He’s a handsome little tyke. I think he could charm the silver off a dollar.”

  Robin nodded, grateful for the change of focus. “He’s a sweetheart, isn’t he? Ty Morgan and I found him on the prairie.”

  “And who is this Ty? I never did get an answer, but he must be someone important to Jacob.”

  “I need to start at the beginning. Do you want to hear the whole long story?”

  “How long? Will I need a cup of coffee and perhaps another piece of your apple pie?” He winked. “Like any man, I listen much better over a plate of sweets.”

  Robin smiled. He didn’t look like her old friend, but he did sound like him. Her mama would say William Benson could smell pie baking before she assembled the ingredients. “This is the first apple pie I’ve baked since coming to Kansas. And, wouldn’t you know—you j
ust happen to show up in time to eat it.”

  William stood and pulled Robin to her feet. “And here I thought you baked it special for me. But, Robin, I didn’t just happen to show up. I planned this trip well.”

  ###

  Robin poured William another cup of coffee while he smashed the remains of the pie onto his fork.

  “You didn’t like the pie?”

  William shook his head. “Liked the pie, not the story.”

  “Because it doesn’t have a happy ending?”

  “It didn’t have a happy beginning, Robin. And it still has no ending. I wish I could have protected you from the storm. And I wish Jacob . . . what will become of him?” William sipped his coffee. “Whew, that’s hot. You must have refilled it when I wasn’t looking.”

  “You seemed deep in thought. I’m sorry. I should have warned you. I don’t know what will become of Jacob. I threatened to return to Chicago—once when I was very frustrated—but Uncle John said I couldn’t take Jacob. And I can’t leave him.”

  “Why didn’t John want you to take the boy?”

  Robin carried the dirty dishes to the cupboard then returned to sit across from him. “He thinks as long as there’s a chance he has a pa, we need to wait.”

  William leaned back and crossed his arms. “I can understand his reasoning, Robin. Look, at the risk of another argument—and believe me, I don’t want a fight—but let’s say that at the end of this month you decide to return to Chicago with me. Whatwould you do with Jacob?”

  Robin frowned. “What do you mean? Are you saying you wouldn’t want him with us? What would you want me to do with him?” She trembled. She didn’t want another fight, but she’d fight with anyone in order to keep Jacob.

  “I said I didn’t want an argument. And I don’t. I’ve been here less than a day. This little guy surprised me. I need answers to a lot of questions before I can make any statement you would probably want to hear.”

  “Like what? I’ve told you everything I know about him.”

  “How would Ty Morgan feel if you were to take the boy away? And what would happen if we did take him to Chicago and then a father came after him? Could you give him up? What would it do to you? Have you prayed about this? Maybe you should talk with your pastor. Perhaps he would be able to give you counsel.”