April and May’s hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed since Poppy had done so after she’d washed it a week ago.
April took a step back, her smile all but gone. She might not talk much, but she understood Poppy well enough.
“No.”
July grasped the strap to April’s overall as she tried to run away. “That’s not polite. Miss Ford wants ta brush your hair. She’ll be gentle.” He slid Poppy a look much too old for his years.
“That’s right, I’ll be very gentle. I promise. You’ll hardly feel a thing.”
April’s lip protruded. “Hun-gy.”
Leaning against the bed with her thumb in her mouth, May watched.
Poppy’s heart squeezed. They’d gotten a few supplies from Sheriff Crawford, but they were still rationing the food. How she wished she could get into the kitchen and try baking something.
“I know you are, honey. I’ll talk to Shad as soon as he comes around and see if I can’t get some extra biscuits. I’m sure he’ll sneak me some if I ask nicely.”
April inched forward and let Poppy take her by the shoulder.
No matter what, Poppy would make that happen. She’d get dressed and go door to door begging for food if she had to, to find something for these darling children.
“Turn around, sweet girl,” she crooned to the child, who slowly did her bidding. Very carefully, as not to hurt her, Poppy worked at the snarls, for passing the comb through without snagging was impossible. “Very good. We’re getting somewhere.”
How she’d love to have just a pittance of the food and belongings from her Boston home to shower on the three. Her heart surged, just thinking how their lives could be if she were their guardian. Her hand stilled at the intriguing idea.
Seeing April glance around, Poppy realized she was staring off into space, her hand resting on the child’s small shoulder. “Oh, sorry.” She laughed softly.
July, standing close, had a sad, wistful expression.
“Wait one second, April.” Standing, Poppy picked up July, ignoring the leftover pain in her hands, and set him onto her bed before doing the same with May. “You’ll be more comfortable there.”
July flopped to his stomach, resting his chin on one palm, and May sat on her knees, still sucking her thumb, a habit that April didn’t seem to have.
Poppy returned to her chair and resumed her untangling. “I must say, July, you three have very unusual names. How did you come by them? Did your mother and father tell you?”
“Yes’m,” he replied. “I got the name July because I was born on the Fourth of July. Then when my sisters came along on April twenty-second, my ma said the two twos in a row was like a sign—and they should have names one after the other as well. So they’d always be close. May was birthed right after April, so just like the month, that’s what they was named.” His mouth drew down suddenly, and he began picking at a loose thread on the quilt. “Leastways, that’s what she said.”
Really? The thought was shocking. Mrs. Sanger’s unemotional frown came to mind.
The small boy’s voice had trailed off to a whisper, which she had barely been able to hear.
Poppy called his name, but he didn’t look up. Instead, a silent tear rolled down his cheek.
“I’m sorry, July, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
May gazed at him and then put her arm over his back. “Nuggles,” she whispered, moving closer.
“You didn’t make me sad, Miss Ford.”
“Then why the tear?”
Seeing two more tears slip down his face, Poppy was tempted to cross the room and take him into her arms, but feared that would make him self-conscious. Embarrass him. She didn’t want him to avoid her in the future. In this case, less was definitely the best route to take.
He shrugged, obviously not going to tell her why.
“Well,” she said. “That’s a nice story. And it makes perfect sense.”
She smiled, and for the first time, could move the comb from scalp to ends without one catch. She lifted April’s locks off the back of her neck with her bandaged left hand and continued combing with her right.
“I was named by my father after he saw a painting in an art gallery of the hills of California. Inquiring about the dark gold flowers covering the coastal hillside, he learned they were called poppies. So, the next month when I was born, I was named Poppy Alexandria Ford. How would you like to be named after a flower?” She laughed and wrinkled her nose.
Was being named by her father strange? After a flower neither he nor her mother had actually seen? How odd. Had mother had a choice in the matter?
Poppy had never really thought about how peculiar that seemed. She pictured her parents together, in their usual arguing tones, disagreeing about something. As was often the case, her stomach tightened. They never got along. Their marriage was sad, really. She knew her mother rarely had a say in any matter whatsoever.
“Miss?” July stared at her with questions in his eyes.
“Yes?”
“Aw, nothin’. You was thinking hard again.”
“I guess I was.” She smiled, then leaned over and kissed April’s cheek. “There. You look like the perfect little princess that you are. Now it’s May’s turn.” She stood, picking up April, and set her on the bed next to her brother, exchanging her for her sister.
May was much more agreeable after watching the routine with April, who was now all smiles.
The poppy question rolled around in Poppy’s mind as she carefully worked through the knots in the child’s mussed hair. The apparent dislike between her parents was so troubling. She’d ignored her home situation for the most part, but now that she had hours to think about things . . .
This morning, before Shad had bid her good-bye to go do whatever he did every day after he checked in, she remembered the warm goodness that had filled her chest just at seeing him. He didn’t even have to speak to create a feeling of sugar-coated butterflies whizzing around inside. She became tongue tied. She remembered the long conversations they used to have in the wee hours of the morning, wondering how on earth she’d ever thought of anything to say.
True, she and Shad hadn’t exchanged intimate words in any way, made any promises, given or received the touch of a lover, but his constant care and the warm gazes he tried so hard to hide had fueled her imagination—and desire. She ached to be held in his arms once again, as she had when he’d carried her down the staircase or when they stood in the deserted kitchen.
Were her feelings some fanciful infatuation because they were snowed in together, or was this attraction something else? She had no idea. She’d never been in love.
One thing Poppy knew for sure—she’d kiss the tall, good-looking cowboy before she left Y Knot for home, or the want of doing so would kill her.
Chapter Forty-Three
In the dim hotel hallway, Shad stopped short of his old room where Poppy was now resting, to listen to the chatter of the Sanger children. Well, mostly July’s boyish talk and Poppy, and the girls chiming in now and then with some unintelligible word. They were most animated around Poppy, but quiet in their own room with their parents.
Shad’s mood soured when he thought of Mr. and Mrs. Sanger. He had been sure something was fishy with the couple, and if not both of them, the fellow for sure, but Brandon had not found anything. The few telegrams he’d sent came back with nothing.
If there was something to find out, Shad would have to do it on his own. He stepped into the open doorway.
Poppy looked up, her face blossoming with a wide smile.
“Howdy,” he said, the warmth of her greeting making him skittish.
He’d made the rounds around town today, checking to be sure others were doing all right. Berta May had given him a dozen oatmeal cookies for the children. Brandon had told her about the tykes, and being the good-hearted woman that she was, she set straight to work in her small upstairs kitchen.
Shad held out the bundle to Poppy.
“Wh
at treasures have you brought us, Mr. Petty?” she responded playfully, leaning in his direction as if she was pulled by a magnet. “I can hardly wait to find out.”
In the light from the nearby window, he saw her high-set cheeks burst into color. Being she was a proper lady, she stuck to formalities around others.
“Open it and find out.” He placed the bundle in Poppy’s hands and took a step back, putting a few safe steps between them. His dreams were filled more and more with the unattainable socialite. He didn’t want to set himself up for misery.
July lifted his sister down from the bed, and they rushed over to Poppy’s side.
She carefully untied the knot and laid aside the red-checked material, noticing a delicious sweet scent. A longing gasp came from July’s lips, and his gaze darted first to Poppy and then to him.
Shad smiled and nodded. “There’s one dozen. Four for each of you.”
Poppy looked like she wanted to jump up and kiss him.
Whoa there, cowboy. That’s wishful thinking. You know no such thing.
“Where? How?” she stammered, and then swallowed. “I was just wishing I could bake something for these sweetiekins, and in you walk with cookies. You’re a kind and thoughtful man.”
“They’re from Berta May across the street,” he replied quickly.
She let the children each take one. April and May both stuffed the whole thing in their mouths at once, their cheeks bulging out like hungry mice. Sounds came from their throats. No child should be so hungry.
Worried, he cautiously inched closer. “Careful now, don’t choke.”
Once, when Tanner was just a toddler, he got a piece of an apple stuck in this throat. Those were the most terrifying ten seconds of Shad’s life. Amidst his grandmother’s screams to spit it out, Shad lifted his little brother, even though Shad wasn’t much larger. Losing his balance with the heavy load, he stumbled, and they fell to the floor with a thud. The piece of apple popped out like a bullet, something he had never forgotten.
“Chew the cookie well,” Poppy said in a calm voice, looking at him curiously.
She reached out and stroked both the girls’ hair, and then smiled at July, who was licking invisible crumbs from his palms. His eyes darted to the remaining cookies in the cloth.
“You may each have another cookie now,” Poppy said. “And two more before bedtime.” She smiled. “You’ll sleep well tonight.”
July groaned but didn’t object. Surely, the children could down all four now with no effort at all.
Poppy brushed strands of hair from the boy’s eyes. “We must write a little thank-you note for Berta May. I’ll do the writing. Her kindness will not go unnoticed. She did what I couldn’t.” She almost looked as if she were tearing up.
“I have some good news,” Shad said quickly to ward off her sentimentality.
“More surprises?” she responded, brushing away a tear. “You’re a good man to know.”
“Yes, I guess I am.” Why not play it up? “You’ll hear this soon enough from Deputy Wesley, but I think you’d like it now. He visited some ranches today.”
“Kathryn?”
He chuckled. “That’s right. Everything is fine at the farm. They came through the worst days with few difficulties. She’s well and happy, and so are Tobit and Isaiah. No problems there.” Cutting his gaze back to the children, he hoped she wouldn’t ask any questions. Harsh winters were not always easy.
“And the animals? Buddy? The hogs? The horses?”
“I didn’t get much of the details, but they did lose a few animals.” He cringed, knowing how she felt. “As sad as that is, it’s not unusual in the kind of cold we’ve had.”
“Which ones?”
Shad shrugged. “Sorry. Don’t know.”
Poppy was quiet as she carefully wrapped the remaining goodies, and then crossed the room and set the bundle on the dresser. “That Kathryn, Tobit, and Isaiah are fine is a blessing. Thank you for letting me know. At least I don’t have to worry about her anymore. I still hope to get out there. Maybe they’ll let me stay with them until the stage can make it over to Waterloo.”
Little May stepped forward and took Poppy’s hand, surprising her—and him too. Had the child understood that Poppy might leave? Her going was unavoidable, but still, he hated to think about it. The place wouldn’t be the same at all.
“Have you heard anything from the McCutcheons?” Poppy asked, now standing close. “Has anyone ridden out there, or has any ranch hand ridden in?”
“I haven’t heard anything. But they’re much farther out than the Holcombs or the Preeces. And in the other direction, where the road is more difficult to navigate. I wouldn’t expect them yet. No news is good news, I’d say.”
“Yes, of course.”
Her tone was sad. She must still be thinking about the farm animals.
He bent down and picked up one of the girls. “How was that cookie?” he asked, tickling her side. He glanced at July. “Who am I holding?”
“That’s May. You can tell by the freckle on the end of her nose.”
“Freckle on the end of her nose?” Poppy repeated in surprise, gently pulling Shad’s arm down so she could see. “I’ve never seen a freckle.” She studied the little girl’s face. “You’re right, July,” she said with a laugh. “I see it now as plain as day.”
Shad was glad to hear the spark back in her voice.
She touched the boy’s cheek. “Thank you for pointing that out. I’m amazed now that I never noticed it before. That tiny dot will come in handy.”
“July,” an angry male voice shouted. “Where are you, boy?”
July’s gaze flew to the door, and then to Shad. If he wasn’t mistaken, the child was scared to death. Anger roiled around inside. He needed to do something to help.
“You’d better go see what your father wants,” Poppy said.
Her voice was calm, though Shad could tell she didn’t like the man one bit either.
“But keep the cookies a secret. I’ll be sure to bring you your other two before bed, all right?”
“July! I’m not calling you again. If I count to five and you’re not here, you’ll regret it.”
Shad hated to set May down, but he did. Both he and Poppy watched as the girls followed their brother out the door.
She waited all of three seconds after they left to grasp his arm. “That man is horrible. He can’t be their father.”
“You can’t take children from their parents, Poppy, even if they don’t deserve them. The law says so.” He needed to calm her so she didn’t do something drastic before he had any proof of the situation.
“Don’t tell me you don’t see it too,” she cried, taking a step into the hallway and looking both ways. “Each day that goes by, they become dearer to me, Shad. I don’t see a bit of resemblance between them and that man or that woman.”
“Maybe he’s their stepfather.”
She went to place her hands on her hips in a defiant move, but stopped short when she looked at her bandages.
“Let’s get those dressings off,” he said in an attempt to change the subject. For now, in the small confines of the hotel, they needed to keep the peace so nobody lost their head. “I’m sure by now they’re healed. How do they feel?” He reached out to take one of her hands.
She pulled back, her brow arched in speculation. “I’m not that easy to distract, Shad. You’ll learn that once I set my mind to something, that’s it. I follow through, whether the journey is difficult or easy.”
Oh, he’d learned that about her already—a few times over. She was a spitfire just waiting to be tamed—or not. He still wasn’t sure about anything except he enjoyed her company. And when they were apart, she was all he thought about.
“I’ll do my best to remember that, Poppy,” he replied, stepping with her back into the bedroom.
She allowed him to unwrap the long white cloths that protected her palms and fingertips.
He lingered over the examination. “They
look good. No infection.”
She smiled. “I could have told you that,” she answered playfully. “I don’t have time for more recuperation. I have things to do. Question is, are you helping me or not?”
He knew he would. The moment she asked, he was putty in her hands. “Not. I have things to look after here until these people can get back to their lives.”
“Harold’s gone, and so is Abe.”
He crooked a brow. “I still have you, Scott, Hildy, Lenore, and the Sangers. And don’t forget the Grants. Mel and Bonnie are here until they can get home to Pine Grove or on to Waterloo, where they were headed before the storm hit. Wouldn’t want nothin’ to happen to that nice old couple.”
“Sheriff Crawford’s back in town,” she argued. “And his deputy. They can keep tabs on the hotel well enough. It’s just across from their office.”
She had a point. He should get back to the ranch as soon as he could. That wasn’t quite yet, but soon. “You tryin’ to get rid of me?”
She lifted a shoulder and gazed into his eyes. “I’d never do that.”
What are you thinking, Miss Poppy Ford? Am I a plaything to you? Are you stringing me along like the fops in Virginia who were falling at your feet for attention? I’m not one of them, and you best remember that. When I decide to play, I play for keeps.
Feeling a bit vindicated, even if it was just to himself, Shad smiled back, making her color. “That’s good to know,” he said slowly. “I’m banking on your truthful words. Someday, I just may come ’round to collect.”
He laughed when her eyes widened.
Two could play cat and mouse.
Chapter Forty-Four
Luke stepped onto the ice-covered porch of the bunkhouse and turned to Shadrack’s younger brothers following closely behind. “Remember what I said in the house. The men have just lost a comrade and are in a bad way. They’ve had a rough go,” he said, his mind on other things besides the newcomers.
The Petty brothers had turned up an hour ago and had come straight to the house. Any other time, he’d have sent Hickory to the bunkhouse with a message for Francis to see to their horses. But in light of the recent trouble they’d had with the wolves, he did that himself while Nick and Tanner gobbled down a meal of savory pot roast and fresh bread Esperanza set before them.
Montana Courage (McCutcheon Family Series Book 9) Page 21