Lone Star Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “None of us is good at everything. We have strengths and weaknesses. God created us that way so we’d rely on Him and on our brothers and sisters.” He reached over, gently stroked the kitten, and said in a somber tone, “You’re a fine woman, Mercy Stein. Aye, you are—but you’re going to have to lean on God and others to help you through all that lies ahead.”

  She started to tremble. “I must leave now.”

  He took the kitten and gently put it with its littermates. “I’ll walk you out.”

  It would be rude to refuse his assistance rising from the veranda. Once she was up, Mercy snatched back her hand. Her plan was to dash down the steps and go around to the front, but the doctor stopped her.

  “We obviously have a mama skunk close by. Go back through to the front.” As she started through the doorway, he added, “Is there anything I should put out to entice that mother to come get the kit?”

  Relief flooded her. She could salvage her pride by leaving on a better note. “What did you have out last night?”

  Chris must have overheard her, because he started to chortle.

  Mercy gave the doctor a questioning look.

  His neck and ears went red. “Leftovers.”

  “Dinna believe him.” Chris served his brother a wallop on the back that would have felled a smaller man. “Rob tried to bake beans. I’ve chewed on softer bullets.”

  It’s my fault. I was rattled yesterday and didn’t send food home with them. She stared at the far wall and said, “Eggs. Skunks like eggs.”

  “How many?”

  “I’d suppose you have only one female and her litter of kits.”

  Doc chuckled. “One’s more than enough. I meant, how many eggs should I put out? Half a dozen?”

  “One or two.”

  He looked uncertain. “Fried?”

  “Raw.” She hastily added, “Still in the shell.”

  Christopher seemed to find the whole exchange vastly amusing. Until today, he’d always been so stern. Discovering it was nothing more than bluster made her bold. Mercy walked toward freedom and called back over her shoulder, “Christopher Gregor, you owe me for helping you out. It’s going to cost you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Ja.” She turned to the doctor. “I count on you to make sure he pays this debt.”

  “You just name it,” Doc said.

  “I can hardly wait.” Christopher looked too smug.

  She gave the doctor’s brother the same look she used on Peter when he misbehaved. “Gingerbread.”

  “Uh … I’m not any better at cooking than my brothers.”

  The doctor tried to smother his laughter with a cough.

  Mercy cast him a quick glance, then mused, “But you are good at building things?”

  “That’s a fact.” All of a sudden, Christopher’s face contorted. “Not my house!”

  “Our house,” the doctor corrected. “Miss Stein, what will satisfy the debt?”

  “I’m a fair woman.” She ignored Chris’s rude snort and continued. “The fan-styled inset at the apex of the eaves. And if the mother returns and takes away the kit, whichever is cheaper: a spindled veranda or scalloped clapboards for part of the building.”

  “If the skunk is gone, you’ll have both, and we’ll be coming out better on the bargain.”

  “You’re demented.” Chris shook his head. “Any sane person would want a skunk as far away as possible, and you’re trying to get it to come up on the porch!”

  “You suggested I bring a skunk into my office and perform surgery on it!”

  Mercy left, surprised she was still smiling at the Gregor brothers’ antics. But she’d ridden no more than five feet before it happened again. Women gave her pitying glances and turned away. The tiny bit of happiness she’d had withered, and misery swamped her.

  Chapter 8

  No gingerbread. Not a stick.” Chris stomped into the surgery and half bellowed, “Did you hear me?”

  “Half of Texas heard you.” Rob calmly placed a bottle of arnica on the shelf and shut the door to his pharmaceutical cabinet. “I take it we still have the skunk?”

  “No, we dinna. You now have two!” Chris glowered at him. “I’m working at the farm today. You and Duncan can find a way to rid us of those beasts.”

  Rob stood chest-to-chest with his brother and glared at him. “You’re not going.”

  “And why not?”

  “You’ll bellow at the lass. She canna take it. I’ll send off the telegram to order the house, and you can start the foundation.”

  “I can’t yet. Connant insists we have a cellar to hide in when there’s a storm. He hounded me until I relented and said I’d dig it.” Chris looked exasperated. “I’m too busy to worry about cowering from a gust of wind.”

  “Last day of last month, Bell and Falls counties lost ten men to tornadoes. Connant has yet to steer us wrong about America.”

  “Exaggeration. It has to be. These Texans pride themselves in telling tall tales. Connant’s always had a talent for stretching the thinnest thread of truth into a yarn. He’s warmed up to the Texan tradition. Every time he mentions a tornado, it gets more powerful. He started with telling me about the hail that’s the size of a fist. Then he had flying cows. At last telling, brick houses were torn to bits.”

  “You gave your word; you’ll dig the shelter.”

  Rolling up his sleeves, Chris muttered, “Hot as it’s getting, I’ll probably be striking Lucifer with the shovel—and most likely within the first few inches.”

  “Now look who’s spouting Texas-sized tales!” Rob folded a paper up and tucked it into the pocket of his vest. Miserably hot as the summer had proven to be, he felt a spurt of thanks that the men didn’t feel it necessary to wear a coat and hat.

  “It’s a crying shame Connant wasn’t stretching the truth when he told us it gets hotter than the hinges to Hades in the summer.”

  “Speaking of the devil’s domain …” Rob stared at his eldest brother. “I’ve waited for you to tell the truth about those trips to Thurber.”

  Chris shrugged. “I haven’t lied.”

  “You’ve not been forthcoming with the real reason you went, either.” Rob knew Chris had spent time in the mines. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize the cough?”

  Chris didn’t look in the least bit unsettled or repentant. “Don’t fault me for doing my trade.”

  “We’re relying on your talents with construction. It’s time to build the house. You’re getting irritated about me getting called out in the wee small hours, and Duncan’s snoring is driving me to distraction.”

  “Duncan’s busy with all manner of leatherwork, and your practice is booming.”

  Rob knew he had to tread lightly. Chris was a proud man. “Aye. I canna deny either of those statements. But we’d have to pay dearly for anyone else to do the construction. We’re relying on your skill.”

  “I haven’t done a scrap of work on it yet.”

  Rob nodded. “And glad I am that you haven’t. You were where you were most needed. The Steins would be in sorry shape had you not worked their land.”

  The tension in Chris’s jaw eased only slightly.

  “It’s not just the farming you do that’s vital. You’ve seen how skittish Mercy is.” He saw Chris’s eyes flare. “Having a strong man there lends her a sense of safety.”

  Chris grunted.

  Rob knew he’d succeeded in making his point. With Chris, it was better to back off so he felt he’d made the decision. “You’re so big and ugly, there isna man nor dog that’d tangle with you.”

  “I’d tell you to look in the mirror, but you’d break it.” Chris stared out the window. “I’m not done in Thurber. I’m going back for two more days.”

  Rob glowered.

  “It’s lignite. They’re opening shafts four and five, and some idiot set up shoring in them that’s got exposed nails. You use your knowledge to save lives. This time, I’m using mine. One spark and the whole thing would burn f
or months.”

  “Which is why I don’t want you down there at all.” The railroad desperately needed the soft coal, but Rob didn’t want his brother to continue mining. Mining ruined a man’s lungs, if it didn’t claim life or limb first. “You’re done with that trade.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t ask what you thought.”

  “We pledged Da we’d stay together.”

  “I’m still in Texas!”

  “Not good enough,” Rob shot back.

  Chris banged his fist against the back of a chair. “I’m not about to concede to your whims. Not after you decided our house needs to have more frills than an Easter bonnet.”

  “Sore over that, are you?”

  “No.” The corner of Chris’s mouth kicked up. “Any gingerbread’s going to go on Duncan’s workshop, and I’ll pound you into the ground if you warn him.”

  “You haven’t succeeded in distracting me. I still expect you to put mining behind you after these last two days of consulting.”

  “You haven’t distracted me, either. Duncan gets any of the silly frills.”

  Rob nodded. “We have a deal.”

  “You’ve wasted half the morning. I have a stupid basement to dig in the heat of the day now that you’re done clucking like a hen.”

  Rob grabbed his medical satchel and a slip of paper. He’d already composed the order for the house—including all of the “standard” features, which included a plethora of the frills Chris was grousing about. In addition to the house, Rob had estimated enough boards to construct the partitions in the downstairs to create the washroom and Duncan’s workshop. He grinned to himself. Chris agreed to the bargain that Duncan got all of the gingerbread—but Chris didn’t consider one important fact: Duncan could put the gingerbread wherever he wanted to.

  “Grossvater is in the cornfield.” Mercy pinned Peter’s shirt to the clothesline.

  Doc didn’t stride off. Instead, he announced, “I sent for the house and extra lumber to construct Duncan’s workshop.”

  “The men will all want to help, but this kit—will it come with instructions?”

  “Aye, and each piece is numbered. ’Twill require two cars on the train to hold all of the material.”

  Mercy kept hanging up clothes. “Two! That much to make a house?”

  “It surprised me, too.” Rob reached over and held the hem of the dress she’d taken from the basket.

  “You’ll get wet.” She tried to tug it away.

  “I’m sweltering, lass. That’s not a threat, ’tis a promise.” After she pinned the calico dress to the line, he pinched the cloth on either side of the waist. “You’ll be needing new frocks soon.”

  Mercy pretended she hadn’t seen nor heard him.

  “You’ve not asked, and I’m—”

  “I’m not asking anything.” She snapped a dishcloth in the air, then savagely pinned it up.

  “Between Christmas and New Year’s.” His words came out in a patient tone. “I just thought you might want to know.”

  Heat soared from her bodice to her forehead. Rattled, she tried to jam the wrong end of a clothespin onto the line.

  “If it’s too hard for you to discuss, I could write down a few things for you.”

  “Let me be!” Once she cried out the words, Mercy felt guilty. “I don’t want to be rude. Just please leave me alone.”

  “I respect you immensely, Miss Stein, and I’ll respect your wishes.” He didn’t even pause but changed the topic. “Your grandda is healing better than I anticipated, but I’d best not find him working too hard. If he is, I’ll scold him like he’s six instead of sixty.”

  “Duncan’s with him.”

  “Good, good.” He nodded. “Duncan’s grown quite fond of your grandda and Peter. They didn’t get a single nibble whilst fishing yester noon because the three of them kept trading jokes and made too much noise.”

  “Fish don’t have ears.”

  “Ah, but they do.” The doctor pulled a pair of britches from the basket and held it to the line so she could hang it. “They have an ear stone and little hairs inside at the back of the head. They sense vibration—much like you feel the vibration of a tuning fork or a bell.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Just because we canna see something doesna mean ’tisn’t there.”

  Everyone knows that. Why would he say such an odd thing?

  “Though I canna see the Almighty, I still know He’s with me because of how He resonates in my heart.”

  I used to feel that way. Now I don’t. God hasn’t listened to me or talked to my heart for months now. She glanced at the doctor, and he gave her a quizzical look. Embarrassed at her thoughts, she stammered, “It is odd, you speaking of fish and God in the same discussion.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Ooch! Now, lass, many a man will tell you ’tis no place like sittin’ by a stream with a pole in your hand to let your heart go still. ‘Be still, and know that I am God.’ Aye, I’m thinkin’ that verse applies to the hours when I fish.”

  Eager to veer away from discussing spiritual matters, she pretended to play with a clothespin. “So then, go talk to Grossvater in the cornfield. Maybe he could take you fishing sometime.”

  “That I will.”

  As the doctor walked off, Mercy hung the last of the laundry and went to the garden. She picked some vegetables and took them inside. The doctor had said he stayed busy when his heart ached. Mercy envied him. No matter how hard I work, nothing fills up the emptiness inside me—nothing but that evil man’s child.

  Chapter 9

  No being surly,” Rob warned Chris as they rode to the Stein farm.

  “Of course he willna be surly.” Duncan thumbed back his hat. “ ’Tis Peter’s birthday, and Chris wouldna think to spoil it with a dark mood.”

  “I’m not surly.” Chris shifted the box on his lap. “I’m impatient.”

  Duncan looked at Rob. “Peter’s growin’ a year older today, and I’m thinking Chris is going backward in age.”

  “You chose more fireworks than I did.” Chris gave Duncan a mock scowl. “But if you think they’re just a schoolboy’s toy, I’m sure Mercy would let you stay in the kitchen and wash dishes while the rest of us enjoy the lights—don’t you think, Rob?”

  “We’ll not light a single one till everyone can enjoy them.”

  Chris smirked. “Duncan, you’re my witness. Rob just volunteered to do dishes.”

  “Aye, that he did!”

  Rob chuckled. “Since when did I mind getting my hands wet? Washing dishes is a far sight easier than sterilizing my instruments.”

  Duncan moaned.

  “Keep talking about that.” Chris grinned at Rob. “Duncan goes green whene’er he even hears about blood and gore. It means there’ll be more food for us.”

  As they approached the farmhouse, Peter ran out to greet them. “We get to have a picnic! Grossvater said we could!”

  As they hitched their horses, Peter hopped from one foot to the other. “You got three horses now?”

  “Aye, we do.” Chris gave his gelding an affectionate pat.

  “Was yours sick, too?”

  “Nae. Just bad tempered. His owner didn’t know how to treat him.”

  “There’s not a beast alive Chris couldn’t charm,” Duncan boasted.

  Mercy came out onto the veranda. “Except a skunk.”

  Rob chortled. “Aye, and that’s the truth. Chris, will you be telling the lass, or do I?”

  Mercy’s eyes widened. “The skunk didn’t—”

  “No,” Chris snapped. He heaved a sigh. “You were right. The skunk was in that log. While she went to our porch for the eggs, I chopped up the log so she’d move on.”

  “And she took every last one of her kits with her,” Duncan added.

  Rob gave Mercy a slow smile. “So mayhap you ought to be reminding Chris what gingerbread is to go on the new house.”

  “I’ll remind him later.” Mercy pushed a golden strand of hair behind her
ear. “I wouldn’t want to spoil his appetite.”

  “Mercy made a cake for me. Wanna come see?”

  “Later, Peter.” Mercy made a shooing motion. “Go take the blanket and spread it out. Don’t lay it by the redbud tree. There’s an anthill there.”

  “And after I do, I getta choose a watermelon.”

  “Now I think I’m going to have to set this box down and help you with that chore. We’ll find the biggest watermelon in the garden.”

  Peter went up on tiptoe. “What’s in the box?”

  “A surprise.” Chris set the box down on the veranda. “It’ll be the last thing we do today.”

  Peter shuffled backward. “It’s not a switch is it?”

  “What,” Rob asked, “would make you think of a thing like that?”

  “Johann’s father says that when he’s been naughty.”

  “I see.” Rob heard the gritty undertone in Chris’s voice.

  “Mr. Honig is a firm man, but fair.” In spite of the heat, Mercy wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s a case of his bark being worse than his bite.”

  “That’s good to know.” Chris straightened up.

  “I think you’d better worry about my bite.” Rob grinned. “I’m smelling fried chicken. While the others go spread out the picnic blanket and choose a melon, I’ll come help with the food.”

  “That kind of help will leave the rest of us hungry,” Duncan predicted.

  “He wouldn’t do that to us.” Peter looked up at him. “Would you, Doctor?”

  “Never. I’d be sure to save out three pieces—one for you, another for your sister, and the last one for your grandda.”

  “Does the gizzard count as a piece? It’s awful small.”

  “Seeing as it’s your birthday, I’d save that one for you as a treat.”

  “Okay, but I like the leg.”

  “Hey!” Chris looked at Duncan and half bellowed in outrage, “They’re plotting to leave us out.”

  Duncan crooked his finger at Peter. A moment later, he whispered something in the boy’s ear that sent him into a fit of giggles.

  “The both of you are up to no good.”

  “And what else would you expect of us?” Duncan settled his arm around Peter.