High Desert Haven (The Shepherd's Heart)

by Lynnette Bonner

  Nicki, still somewhat reluctant, handed the boy down to Jason. “What if he falls and hurts himself out here?”

  Jason’s tone was suddenly very serious as though he knew how hard this was for her. “Do you have bandages in the house?”

  “Yes, and ointment.”

  “I’ll remember to have Tilly show me where to find them as well.”

  “He likes to get into everything, and he’s very quick. You’ll have to watch him closely. In fact I’m afraid that, with him, you might not get any work done at all.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Jason looked at the toddler and jostled him on his arm. “Won’t we, pal?”

  “Nicki! Are you coming?” William called peevishly from where he sat on his horse several feet away.

  “Sawyer, you be a good boy for Mama, eh? Hasta la vista.”

  Sawyer stared at Jason as though assessing whether he could trust the man or not. And then, as Jason crossed his eyes and made a funny face, Sawyer raised one chubby hand, flopping it from the wrist as he waved his mama out of the yard with a giggle.

  As she and William topped out on the first rise, Nicki glanced back and saw that Jason had swung the boy onto his shoulders and was galloping around the yard, his hat already knocked from his head and laying on the snow.

  She grinned. Sawyer was in good hands, and she needed to enjoy these precious minutes to herself.

  Brenda Jeffries added another stick of wood to the already blazing stove. “John,” she spoke to her twelve-year-old, “ya go on over there and bring one o’ the quilts of’n you young’ns’ bed here. You can all snuggle under it ta keep warm an’ I’ll tell ya a story whilst I cook dinner.”

  The shivering boy, did as he was bade, hurrying back to throw the quilt around the shoulders of his younger brother, Bobby, sister, May, and himself.

  The walls of their hastily erected summer home were proving to be inadequate, at best, against this harsh Oregon winter. Rolf had promised that before the next snows flew, he would cut sod to stack around the walls outside and that next year they would all be comfy cozy. But that did little to alleviate the shivers of her precious children this year.

  If they stayed very close to the stove, they could pretty well keep warm, but both May and Bobby, her eight-year-old twins, had burned their fingers while trying to warm their hands and cooking a meal with the three of them underfoot was next to impossible.

  Brenda glanced around the interior of their shack. Five years. In order to prove up on this tract of land, they had to live here for five years. The flyers they had seen back home had been so promising. The best land you’ve ever seen, they had promised. Mild winters, dark rich soil, soaking rains when a farmer needed but plenty of sunshine, too. A veritable promised land awaited them in Oregon if they would just pack everything up and move.

  The banker they had spoken to in Portland had assured them they would have no trouble lasting out the five years to claim title to their land and in the meantime, kind man that he was, he would be happy to lend them any money they needed.

  Of course they had needed money. Two of their horses had expired on the long, hot trip west. And then there was seed that needed to be purchased and some food supplies to last them until they could harvest their own produce. Lumber for the shanty and the crucial wood stove had not been cheap. And two of the children had grown two inches in the six months of travel time, so new shoes and fabric also added a small sum to what they borrowed.

  The banker had smiled and told them the amount they requested was just fine. He helped out new homesteaders all the time and almost all of them needed at least this much, most of them considerably more.

  They had been given a year to pay the money back. It would be tight what with the crops just coming to harvest as their money was due, but Rolf was sure they would make out all right. “The Good Lord won’t be forgettin’ us,” he’d said.

  Brenda flicked her gaze at her shivering children huddled by the stove, and then around the inside of the small shanty again. Could she stand to live in this box for five years? Were her arms six inches longer she could stand in this room as it ran the narrow way and touch both walls. The other walls of the rectangular little building were considerably farther apart, but when you detracted the space taken up by beds, a small table, a cabinet and washbasin in the kitchen area, the room was very crowded indeed.

  Now, Brenda, she mentally chided herself, the Good Lord be knowin’ all about yer troubles. Ya just leave things up to him.

  “Mama, will ya tell us a story now?” May asked, her large blue eyes pleading as she scooted from under the blanket and wrapped her slender little arms around Brenda’s waist.

  Brenda smiled and suddenly knew true contentment. She had been blessed beyond measure by her loving Savior, and the blessings were right before her. A tow-headed girl who looked just like her and two brunettes with physiques identical to their papa’s.

  “Let me see…” She tapped her chin with one forefinger. “Have I told ya the story o’ the Knight and his Lady of late?”

  “Yes!” May scrambled back to the blanket, inserting herself snugly between her brothers.

  “That one. I like it!”

  “It’s my favorite.”

  Ten minutes later, when their papa entered the house, none of the children even noticed, so engrossed were they in their mama’s story.

  9

  As they pulled up in front of Farewell Bend’s mercantile, Nicki patted the shiny brown splotch on Patch’s neck. She glanced over at William as he dismounted his Morgan and came around to help her from the saddle. His face showed the tension of their riding conversation.

  The ride to town would have been a pleasant diversion were it not for the discussion that had marred the morning’s serenity. And she could tell by the look on William’s face that he wasn’t through. If she had thought this morning that William’s interest in her was mere friendship, she now knew better. He seemed sure he could convince her to marry him.

  She sighed.

  Looping Patch’s reins around the hitching post, he reached up, slid his hands around her waist, and pulled her into his arms. Her heart seized with an unexplainable uneasiness at his touch and she tried to step away. With a horse on either side of them, shielding them from the view of the town, the situation felt far too intimate.

  He tightened his grip, holding her close to him for a moment as he looked deep into her eyes. “I love you, Nicki.”

  She expelled a quiet breath of exasperation. “I’m sorry, William. I can’t say the same to you. I need more time.” She tried to loosen his hands even as she searched his rugged face. His grip remained firm, and rather than make a scene, she gave up and looked away.

  Could I ever learn to love this man, Lord? He has been so good to me since John died. It would be so nice to let him take care of me, but I know that I don’t love him now. And I don’t know where he stands with You. Show me what to do, Lord. Please.

  Looking toward the door of the mercantile, she tried again to take a step back, but his grip tightened even more. “This is where you belong, Nicki.”

  She arched a brow skeptically. “I’ve always liked Farewell Bend, but I much prefer living out on the ranch.”

  He chuckled, a dry unpleasant sound, and let her go so abruptly that she had to take a step back to catch her balance. “I have to go to the telegraph office. Is ten minutes enough for you?”

  She nodded and watched him stalk into the building next door to the store. Ryan and Peggy Sanders not only ran the local mercantile but the telegraph office as well so the two buildings were connected.

  She shook her head at his retreating form, lifting her skirts and moving up the steps. She never would understand William. One minute he was ready to lay his coat across every puddle and the next he was stalking off in a fit of temper.

  As she stepped through the jangling door of the mercantile into the spice sweetened warmth of the interior, Nicki rubbed her aching lower back, hoping that William would w
ant to go directly home after this. If this flu doesn’t go away soon, I’ll have to pay a call to Doctor Rike.

  Janice Sanders came out of a storage room at the back wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh hi, Mrs. Trent. How are you doing?” Her tone softened into one of sympathetic question, her cornflower blue eyes showing genuine concern.

  “Hello, Janice. I’m doing as well as can be expected, thank you.”

  “I’m so glad that Till has been able to help you out. How is she doing? I haven’t gotten to chat with her in just forever!”

  Nicki smiled fondly. “She is doing fine. She has been more of a help to me than I can say.”

  “Are she and Conner still getting on?”

  Nicki remembered Conner’s lingering touch on Tilly’s waist as he had helped her out of the wagon just that morning and the blush that had shaded Tilly’s cheeks as she entered the house. “Sí. I’d say ‘getting on’ is a good description.”

  Janice beamed. “Good! I’m so happy for her. Till has had her eye on him ever since he came to work for you and started coming to church.” Janice heaved a great sigh as she stared at a shelf of ammunition, not really seeing it. “Do you ever wonder if there is one certain person in the world for you? Like someone God made with just you in mind?” Not waiting for Nicki to answer she went on, “What happens if you’re supposed to meet one day but, say, you lose a button and have to take time to sew it on, so you’re not at the right place at the right time and you don’t meet him? Or you happen to be looking in the other direction when he walks by?”

  Nicki chuckled. “Don’t you think, señorita, that if God made the perfect man for you, He could orchestrate it so you would meet?”

  Janice smoothed the front of her apron. “I suppose you’re right, Mrs. Trent. I just wish that God would get on the ball and send him my way, you know?”

  Nicki chuckled again. “Your turn will come, Jan. And if you never meet the man for you, then you have to trust that God has something better in mind, sí?”

  Janice’s eyes widened. “Oh, I hope that’s not what God has for me! I sure—” The loud clearing of Peggy Sanders’ throat could be heard from the storage room. If possible, Janice’s blue eyes widened even more. “Oh listen to me prattling on so! I do declare God gave me two tongues instead of one, Mrs. Trent. Do you suppose that’s why I haven’t met Mr. Right yet? Because I talk so much? Oh, if only I could be quiet and—”

  “Janice!” Peggy Sanders’ laughing voice echoed from the supply closet and Janice snapped her mouth shut mid-sentence. “Hello, Nicki,” Peggy called again, still not emerging from the little room, “I would come out and be civil, but I’m boxed in—literally.”

  Nicki called, “Don’t worry about it. I always love to talk to Jan.” She gave the young woman a sly wink.

  “Did you need anything in particular today, Mrs. Trent?” Janice wore the determined look of someone on a diet trying very hard to ignore a plate of cookies, as she worked at using a bare minimum of words.

  “Actually, no. I’m just in town with Mr. Harpster.” Nicki didn’t miss the romantic gleam that leapt into the eyes of the young idealist before her as she continued, “and he needed to go into the telegraph so I thought I would come in to see if you had anything new while I waited.”

  “We got in some lovely soaps the other day. There’s one I particularly like that smells like cinnamon and honey. They’re on that shelf back there. Why don’t I let you look around and you can holler at me if you find anything you can’t live without?” She laughed. “I’ll go and help Mom unbox herself.”

  “That would be fine. Thank you.”

  Janice swiveled to head for the storeroom, then paused midstride and turned back. The girl stood in indecision for a moment, her mouth opening and snapping shut as she tried to decide whether to ask the question that was on her mind.

  Nicki hid her smile. She knew exactly what would be forthcoming. “Did you recently hire a new hand, Mrs. Trent?”

  “Sí.” Nicki nodded and then shook her head in mock pity, “Too bad he is so homely, eh?”

  Janice’s eyes bulged and her jaw dropped before she caught the twinkle in Nicki’s deep brown eyes. “Yes. Too bad.” Jan blushed prettily. “Do you think he will be coming to church with you and your hands?” The hope infiltrating the question was unmistakable.

  An image of Janice flirting with Jason in the church yard flashed through Nicki’s mind and she cringed inwardly at the bolt of jealousy that shot through her.

  Janice waited, the question still in her eyes.

  Nicki shrugged. “I think there is a good possibility. He mentioned that he has a relationship with the Lord. But I haven’t had a chance to ask him if he would like to attend services with us yet.”

  Janice sighed. “So good-looking and a Christian, too? What more could a girl ask for?”

  Nicki chuckled. “If anyone could think of something, it would be you, Jan.”

  Janice gave a mock curtsey. “Someone has to keep those men on their toes.” With a wink she pivoted on her heel and made a jaunty retreat toward the storeroom.

  Nicki headed down the nearest isle. The truth was, Janice would be a very good catch for Jason. Much better than a widow with a—

  With a small shake of her head, she focused on the items stocked on the shelf, refusing to allow her mind to go any further down that path.

  When William came in to fetch her, Nicki was ready to go, having just finished paying for the bar of cinnamon-and-honey scented soap that she, too, had found irresistible. She noticed that William clutched a telegram in his fist as he ushered her out the door.

  The ride home was stony with silence. Nicki knew she had irked William by her resistance to his proposals but didn’t know how she could have handled the situation differently. He would just have to get over it.

  As they crested the rise above the ranch buildings, he turned toward her.

  “I have to be gone for a couple of days…about a week, really. I’ll come by and see you when I get back.”

  “All right.”

  He gave her a hard look. She could tell that he wished she would say something more, but she had no assurances to offer him.

  The silence stretched out until he finally said, “I’ll leave you here, then. See you in a few days.”

  “Have a nice trip.” Nicki smiled, genuinely hoping he would.

  He nodded tersely and pulled his horse roughly around, spurring it in the direction of his spread.

  Nicki urged her mount forward, heading down the hill toward home. She was pleasantly surprised to see the corral all but finished. Conner and Ron were lashing the last of the poles into place, but Jason was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Sawyer. They must be in the house.

  Ron glanced up and smiled, coming to help her down from the saddle.

  “The boy’s just fine. Jason took him inside a few minutes ago. He’s been going hard all morning and was about droopin’ when Jason took him inside to rest a mite. He sure did have fun. That Jason is right good with the lad.”

  Nicki felt relieved. She headed for the house, removing her riding gloves as she went. She had imagined all sorts of horror stories on the way home, knowing how quick her young son could move. Quietly opening the soddy door, she eased her way inside so as not to disturb Sawyer if he was sleeping. She expected to find Jason chomping at the bit ready to get back to work.

  Jason, pillow propped against the wall behind his head, was lying down on the bed with Sawyer sprawled across his chest. His black boots, crossed casually at the ankles, hung over the end of the bed. One of Sawyer’s little fists clutched the first finger of Jason’s big hand as though the child was afraid Jason might disappear while he slept. Both man and boy were sound asleep. She stepped closer and saw that Sawyer was sleeping so soundly he had left a large patch of drool on the front of Jason’s shirt. She grimaced, debating whether she should wake Jason but decided to let him sleep. His early morning ride had probably cost him some sleep the night befor
e.

  Instead, she hung Jason’s heavy vest, which he had laid across the table, beside his black Stetson on a peg by the door. That done, she put away Sawyer’s scattered wraps and sank into a chair at the table, only now realizing the toll the morning’s ride had taken on her. What is wrong with me?

  She was bone tired and her feet ached. Her riding boots were pinching her feet, which had been a little swollen lately.

  Raising her skirt to her knees she bent over to loosen her boots.

  “A man could get used to waking up to a sight like that, ma’am.”

  Jerking upright, Nicki flung the hem of her skirt to the floor, her eyes widening in indignation. Drat that man! Why did he always have to fluster her so?

  Jason rose from the bed in one fluid motion and laid Sawyer down, carefully extracting his finger from the little boy’s grasp and tucking the blanket around him to ward off any chill. “He did just fine, but I’m afraid I might have let him run himself into a frazzle. He’s plum tuckered out.”

  Nicki looked away, trying to keep her eyes off of the distinct drool stain on the front of his muscle-taut, navy shirt.

  He stretched, one hand going behind his head and the other gliding over his chest and coming into contact with the wet patch. The grimace on his face reminded her of the time that Papa had taken too big a swig of Dr. Dan’s Cure-All Elixir, which was composed mostly of vinegar and lemon juice.

  Nicki looked away, covering her mouth to hide a smile, but his low snort brought her eyes back to his face. She tried not to grin but didn’t quite succeed.

  His eyes darted from the stain on his shirt to his hand and back. “Ah, the dangers of sleeping with a toddler on your chest are now quite apparent. I don’t recall you warning me about that this morning when you went off on your little jaunt with Mr. Harpster.” His twinkling blue eyes belied the disgust in his tone as he took in her amused face and wiped his hand down his pants.

  Nicki moved her hand away from her mouth. “Yes, I suppose I did forget to mention that hazard. But be glad it is only drool.” She arched an eyebrow for effect and watched the light dawn on his face.