“I love lookin’ at your books,” Jess said, her voice carrying from his and Brian’s bedroom. “We only have one book—Swiss Family Robinson, but I love to have my sisters read it over and over.”
Where Mattie was stoic and silent, her youngest sister was cordial and chatty. Milly fell somewhere in between the two in personality.
“Is that why you climb trees?” Glynna asked.
Milly walked out of the room carrying Jess’s breakfast plate and set it on the table. She smiled. Conall stood. “How long do you think Mattie will be gone?”
“Don’t worry about her. She’s been wandering off, hunting and fishing, since she was younger than Jess. I used to fuss about it, but our pa said let her be. She can take care of herself.”
He nodded but wondered how she could so easily watch her sister leave all the time. What if something happened? How would Mattie get back? What would Milly do if—God forbid—Mattie never returned one day? He cleared his throat and decided to ask a question that had been on his mind since he first met the Carson women. “What happened to your father?”
Milly shrugged and dropped down into the chair across the table, so Conall sat, too. “We don’t know. He went hunting one day and never came back. He’s never left us this long before.”
“You’re worried something happened to him?”
She nodded. “But I don’t dare tell Mattie that. She firmly believes he’ll return. It’s why she’s so adamant about not leaving the area—and why I’m so ever grateful that you and your kind siblings have taken us in.” She looked in the direction of the cabin’s front window. “If Pa hasn’t returned by the time Jess is well, I doubt he ever will.”
The despondency in her voice created an ache in Conall’s chest. He knew what it was like to lose a parent—both parents, actually. “May I ask what happened to your mother?”
“She died shortly after Jessamine was born. Back then, we lived in a cozy house in Michigan. Pa was a trapper and gone for weeks on end. Ma taught school to Mattie and me, as well as to four neighbor children to earn some extra money.”
“How did you end up living in a tipi?”
“After our mother died, Pa didn’t want to leave us alone. He found an Indian woman to wet-nurse Jess and then packed us all up and took off for the hills.”
Conall took a sip of his lukewarm coffee as he pondered how hard things must have been in the early days that the Carsons lived on the trail. “How did your father learn how to live off the land?”
Milly stacked up the dirty plates. “You may have heard of Kit Carson. He’s a famous frontiersman, and he’s my father’s kin. He taught him much about nature and living in the wild. Mattie took to it like a duckling to water, but it was much more difficult for me. I was always closer to Ma than she was, and I missed her so much.” Her eyes glistened. She popped up and carried the dishes over to the dry sink.
No wonder Mattie was so independent. “Oh, Brian asked me to tell you that he’s out in the barn and would like to talk with you.”
Milly spun around, all trace of tears gone. “He did? Well then, I should go see what he wants.” She untied the apron Glynna had loaned her, patted her hair, then scurried out the door. Conall smelled a romance brewing between his brother and Mattie’s sister, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Milly seemed much more willing to adopt to their style of living than her sister. If things became serious between his brother and Milly, what would happen to Mattie and Jess? It would be nearly impossible for Mattie to hunt and care for a nineyear-old all by herself—but he was certain she’d find a way to do so.
Glynna glided into the room. “Where is Milly off to?”
“I told her Brian wanted to talk with her, and you’d’ve thought someone had lit her skirts afire the way she scurried outside.” He chuckled.
Eyes twinkling, Glynna waggled her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if romance was blossoming?”
Conall sobered, causing Glynna to do the same. “I don’t see how it would all work out.” Time to change the subject. “Something’s bothering me.”
“What’s that?”
“With the poor harvest we had this fall, I don’t know how long our food will last now that we’ve twice as many folks to feed. We could have managed with just the three of us, but now…”
“Don’t you be worrying, Conall. The good Lord will provide.”
“Then He’d best get to work.” Conall knew that his tone bordered on irreverence, but he was worried about their dwindling food supplies—and there was precious little money to buy more. With the heat of the long summer and lack of rain, their crops hadn’t yielded what he’d hoped they would. How would he feed six people with the little stored in their dugout?
The door opened, and Mattie strode in as if she’d lived there all her life. He doubted it ever occurred to her to knock and wait for someone to answer. But from what he’d observed so far, that was Mattie. She plowed her way through and did what had to be done.
She aimed straight for the kitchen and flipped a bag off her shoulder onto the table with a loud thump. She pulled a fat, plucked turkey out of the bag then turned and walked outside again.
Conall glanced at Glynna and found her eyes sparkling, a smirk on her face. “As I said so shortly ago, the Lord provides, brother. He does indeed.”
Mattie finished the last line of the chapter and peeked over the top of the book at Jess. Her sister’s eyes were closed, the heavy breath of sleep upon her. Love for Jess warmed Mattie’s heart, but keeping her sister still was getting increasingly difficult. If not for the books the Donegans had loaned them, it would have been nigh impossible.
She quietly closed the book and set it on the side table, grimacing when the bed creaked as she stood. Tiptoeing from the room, she was thankful for Jess’s improved health. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, bringing her to the Donegans’ warm cabin had helped her sister, but the walls were closing in on Mattie. She shut the bedroom door and glanced around the combined parlor/ kitchen for Milly or Glynna.
Outside, Mattie looked for the women but again saw neither. She ducked inside the tipi and retrieved the two arrowheads, a pair of shafts she’d whittled from tree limbs, and a couple of leather strips, and then she sat on a deerskin she’d dragged outside. She’d seen several flocks of geese fly overhead and hoped to take one down for tomorrow’s meals. Taking a bird down with an arrow was more difficult then with a bullet, but it meant the meat didn’t carry the scent of gunpowder.
The sound of voices pulled her gaze from the sky. Mattie’s jaw tightened as Milly and Brian strolled out of the barn, walking far too close to one another for casual conversation. She scowled at her sister’s attire—a dark blue calico that Glynna had traded to Milly for two coon hides that would have brought them some good money for supplies. What did Milly need with a fabric dress? She certainly couldn’t climb a tree in it or traipse around the woods in search of berries or wild onions. Milly giggled and swished her hips like some flirting ladies she’d once seen in Kansas City.
She needed to have a talk with her twin. It wouldn’t do her sister any good to get attached to the Donegans and their way of living when they would be leaving next month. Milly and Brian walked along the far side of the house and out of view, but that didn’t ease Mattie’s concern. It only made things worse.
The dried grass crunched as Conall ambled out of the woods toward her in his constant relaxed state, which never failed to intrigue her. He was the obvious head of his family, and though he worked hard, he never seemed to worry or feel burdened providing for them. Was that just his manner, or was it simply because he was a man? In some ways, Conall reminded her of her pa.
“What are you doing there?” He squatted down and picked up an arrowhead. “Did you find those around here?”
Mattie tensed. Did he think she was stealing from him? “No, I’ve seen few signs of Indians in these parts. I found those up in the Dakota Territory.”
He whistled through his tee
th. “That’s a ways from here. Oh, and the Dakotas were split up and made into two states last month.”
Jerking her gaze toward his, Mattie saw no deception in his beguiling blue eyes. He was just relaying news—news that she hadn’t heard—and not trying to best her with his knowledge like some men would do. Mattie slit one end of the shaft and stuck the narrow, flattened end of the arrowhead in it, then picked up a thin strip of leather and began wrapping it around the shaft to secure the two pieces.
“I’ve never seen anyone make an arrow before. Mind if I try it?”
Mattie did but shrugged one shoulder.
Conall picked up her knife, slit the top of the second shaft, and stuck the last arrowhead in it. He reached for a length of leather, and the arrowhead plopped onto the ground. He frowned, picked it up, and stretched for the leather again, but this time he wobbled and lost his balance, falling onto his side with an oomph.
Mattie tried not to laugh, but a giggle slipped out. Instead of getting angry, Conall lithely hopped up and bowed in her direction, as if he’d planned the feat just to entertain her. This time he grabbed the leather and sat down beside her, watching closely as she wove the leather around, through a loop, and pulled it tight and then repeated the process. He leaned closer, his arm touching hers, making her insides fidget. He was no threat—she knew that now—yet he still made her nervous.
As he watched her work, she sidled a glance at his profile. He didn’t look as rugged as many of the men they crossed paths with, but he was still manly. His nose was straight and rounded on the end, his lashes long and dark, and his almost ebony hair flopped over across his forehead in a boyish manner. His gaze swiveled sideways, latching on to hers. Mattie felt certain her heart had just dislodged itself and dropped into her belly. His breath warmed her cheeks, and a light kindled deep in his eyes. His gaze dropped down to her lips, stealing away Mattie’s breath. Suddenly, Conall blinked, as if surprised to catch himself staring, and turned away.
Mattie swallowed. What just happened? And why did she react as she did? Her insides swirled like dirt caught up in a dust devil. She liked Conall more than she cared to admit. He was kind and gentle, and he made her smile at times. Even though she rejected his offer to help most times, the fact that he offered made her feel good. No man other than her father had treated her like Conall did. She was attracted to the handsome man. Was it possible he felt the same about her?
The thought was so far-fetched—created such a riot of confusion in her—that she tossed aside the arrow she was working on and shot to her feet. She needed to get away and all but ran to the barn to check on her horses. Quick footsteps followed her, and she wished more than anything that the Donegans hadn’t cleared this part of their land and that there was a bushy tree she could climb.
Chapter 5
Mattie. Wait!” Conall hadn’t meant to offend her, and judging by the way she stormed off, he certainly had. He hadn’t meant to stare, either, but she was so pretty—so intriguing. He wanted to know everything about the courageous, closed-mouth woman, but getting her to talk was about as easy as trying to pluck a live turkey. Her steps slowed. He pulled even with her and lightly took hold of her arm to keep her from fleeing again. “Did I say or do something that upset you?”
She shrugged and wouldn’t look at him.
Conall lifted up his cap and ran his hands through his hair. He had little experience with women and had no idea what to say to make Mattie more at ease around him. When he’d turned and looked her straight in the face, he hadn’t expected the lightning bolt that sent charges of delicious attraction zigzagging through his body. And when his gaze landed on her lips—by Paddy’s pig, he’d wanted to kiss her, then and there, where anyone could have seen them. But Mattie probably would have scalped him. How could he expect her to be comfortable around him when being around her made him jittery?
But truth be told, she had stared back, and with longing, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“What are you grinning at?” Mattie shoved her hands to her hips.
Conall sobered. He didn’t realize his delight at discovering Mattie might feel a little something for him had been reflected in his expression. In Gaelic, he crooned, “Ah now, what’s not to be happy about?”
“Huh? Speak English?”
Conall chuckled and decided to impress her with his Irish accent. “And what would be the pleasure in that, me lady? Such a fine mornin’ ’tis. And well it deserves the lyrical tongue of one such as I, born in the fine land of Erin.”
A tiny smile danced in one corner of Mattie’s pretty mouth; then she shook her head and mumbled, “Numskull.” She strode back to her tipi, gathered up the arrow supplies, and then ducked inside. Milly had shown it to him and Brian yesterday. He could see the practicality of living in such a home, especially if one moved from place to place, but he still preferred the security of a wood cabin. As he waited for Mattie to come back, he studied the thin canvas flap. While it might work well as a door for privacy, it was a poor barrier. If a wolf—or man—wanted in, little would keep him out—except Mattie’s rifle. A shiver snaked down Conall’s back. It was one thing for two women to live out in the wild with their father, but it was something else for them to try to manage on their own. If they only had wildlife to be concerned about, they’d probably be safe, but many lonely men had moved to this area—and some of them would do just about anything to have a pretty, resourceful woman like Mattie or Milly by their side. His gut tightened.
Mattie stooped as she crawled out, carrying her bow and a quiver of arrows. She cast a quick glance in his direction. As if dismissing him, she started for the woods, and again, he trailed after her. If she meant to put herself in harm’s way, he intended to be there to rescue her, if by chance she needed him.
A few feet into the woods, she suddenly stopped and whirled around, the fringe on her buckskin top slapping the leather. “Why are you still here?”
He could hardly explain that he wanted to protect her, especially since he wasn’t carrying his rifle, but neither would he lie to her. “I…uh…would like to learn how to hunt better. I go out for a full day but don’t come back with as much game as you catch in an hour.”
“That’s because you stomp around the woods like a moose in mating season, scaring away all the game.” Her cheeks suddenly reddened.
Conall’s mouth gaped open for a moment before he slammed it shut, as he struggled to respond to her scathing accusation. Then he chuckled. This colleen certainly had a blunt way of saying things, and that only made him like her more. So many women he’d met batted their lashes, as if that would help them catch a man, and then they’d prattle about useless drivel like fashion, in which he had no interest. He continued walking, but his foot snagged on a tree root. He stumbled several steps until he grabbed hold of a sapling just off the trail and righted himself. Birds screeched and fled the nearby bushes.
Mattie slowly turned, her eyes narrowed. “You see what I mean? You’re frightening away all of the game. If you want meat for your supper, I suggest you go back and let me hunt.”
Conall ducked his head, embarrassed that he’d proven her right. It wouldn’t do any good to tell her he’d stumbled because he’d been thinking about her—comparing her to other women. He ought to go back home. Plenty of work awaited him, but he didn’t want to leave her alone in the woods. Still, he stayed where he was and allowed her to go on without him. He’d wait a few minutes then follow. While assuring himself she was safe, he might also learn a thing or two about hunting. Farming, building things from wood, and laying tracks for the railroad was about all he was proficient in. He’d had precious little time to go hunting since his family moved to the 160 acres he’d won in the April 22 land rush.
Five minutes later, Conall tiptoed down the dirt trail, making sure not to step on twigs or crunchy dried leaves that could alert Mattie to his presence. But as he rounded corner after corner, there was no sign of the vixen. He’d lost her.
Mattie was glad to h
ave shed her shadow. She didn’t understand why Conall made her nervous, especially whenever he touched her or was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. Just the thought of it made her breath catch in her throat and her heart thump. Maybe it happened because he was a man. Her father had warned her about men, but now her family was at the mercy of two of them. She didn’t know what to do.
She feared she was losing Milly, and if her middle sister decided to stay with the Donegans, Jess would probably want to also. Both sisters were enamored with the soft beds and felt safer inside the wooden house. Mattie couldn’t stand the thought of walking off and leaving them behind. It would be like abandoning them. But neither could she settle here.
There was no easy answer.
Mattie trudged through the dried bushes, halfway wishing she’d let Conall join her. She hated the conflicting feelings raging through her and didn’t want to admit that she enjoyed his company. Stooping down, she checked one of her rabbit snares. She clenched her fist. The trap had been sprung, but there was no rabbit. The same was true at the next one, but the dirt was scratched around the snare and small bits of fur clung to the yellowed grass. She gritted her teeth and blew a loud breath from her nose. Someone had stolen her rabbits.
If only a single snare had been sprung, she’d have thought it an accident, but not three. After resetting the trap, she stood and listened. Birds sang in the branches overhead, and two yellow and black goldfinches chased one another from bush to bush. In the distance, Mattie heard a loud crack. She jerked her head in that direction then set off to find the rabbit thief. People who stole from traps might have no qualms about going into a home and helping themselves. If there were vandals on the Donegans’ land, Conall and Brian needed to know.
Five minutes later, she crept toward two men in a small clearing. One man was skinning her rabbits, while the other was breaking dead branches for a campfire. Mattie clenched her jaw. That was her family’s food and skins, which could be traded for things they needed. But she had to be sensible, and even though she had her bow and arrow, she was no match against two grown men. She took a step backward and rammed into something hard—something that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.
A Pioneer Christmas Collection Page 46