A loud whinny drew her attention to the corral, where Oscar and Maxwell had a rope around the neck of a sorrel filly. The horse bared its teeth and reared, obviously not cooperating with the teens.
Seb let loose a low whistle and followed Penny’s distracted feet as she moved toward the corral to watch.
“They aren’t trying to break that horse themselves, are they? Where’s your father?” Penny asked Edgar, who sat on the corral’s top rail, dirt-streaked blond hair peeking out from under his hat. “Shouldn’t he be out here?”
“Don’t need him, prob’ly,” the rangy boy answered shortly. “Oscar broke three fillies last summer, and Pa wants him to teach Maxwell how t’do it this year. Besides, it’s good practice for the bronc ridin’ competition if they can get a saddle on her— Whooheee!” the boy shouted, startling Penny and causing the horse to rear up again.
“Get outta here, Ed!” Maxwell shouted.
“Don’t make noise like that! You’re scarin’ him!” came Oscar’s reprimand.
“Rope ’im in, pull ’im in,” Ed crowed, ignoring his brothers. “Jest like Oscar roped that Sally Hansen in for a kiss yesterday behind the church.”
Neither boy took their attention from the stomping, snorting horse, but both reacted to Edgar’s statement. Maxwell flushed, deep red running up into his face beneath his tan. Oscar grinned, his teeth flashing white against his tanned face.
Indignation rising, Penny turned to Edgar, conscious of Breanna and Seb listening at her elbow. “What do you mean, he roped a girl in for kissing?”
Edgar laughed. “Well, from where I was spying, she didn’t look none too much like she wanted the kiss. Least not at first. Until you laid a good one on her, right, Oscar?” He directed his last words to his brother, who grinned again.
Oscar wrestled the horse a few feet closer, wrapped the rope around his gloved fist. “That’s right, Eddie-boy. Sometimes ya gotta steal a kiss to get the filly settled down—” He grunted as the horse pulled against him.
Penny looked between the boys, offense making her words sharp. “Girls are not fillies. They are not to be cornered or corralled and kissed! And it is certainly not appropriate to be stealing kisses behind the church. Or any other building!”
Oscar and Edgar laughed, while Maxwell remained silent, focused on the horse. His ears were still red.
“Does your father approve of this behavior?” she demanded.
Edgar shrugged. “He ain’t said one way or t’other.”
* * *
Cheek pressed against old Molly’s side as he milked the placid cow, Jonas heard the ruckus outside before the barn door burst open, spilling light into the building’s dim interior.
“Jonas?”
He could tell from Penny’s voice that something—more like someone, one of his sons—had riled her up.
“Back here,” he murmured, purposely keeping his voice calm so the cow wouldn’t react to his sudden tension.
“Do you know what your sons are talking about, out in the corral? Oscar is proud that he cornered a girl and stole a kiss yesterday. He’s bragging about it to the other boys.”
Jonas didn’t think that was much to holler about. But she seemed pretty riled up, if the sound of her stomping feet was any indication.
“Umm—”
She went on, apparently not requiring a response, her swinging skirt appearing in his peripheral vision. “As if that is an appropriate way to court a girl—not that your boys are of an age where they need to be worrying about kissing girls yet. Why, I couldn’t believe it…”
Her voice faded as she paced toward the front of the barn, her words too low for Jonas to make out with one ear pressed against the cow’s flank.
“Aren’t you going to do anything?” That he heard, along with her outraged tone.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, still working at keeping his voice calm.
“Talk to your sons!” Now she sounded exasperated, as if he should have agreed with her assessment from the beginning and already known the answer. She must still be a few stalls over, because her voice was somewhat muffled. “Tell them it’s not okay to steal a kiss! It isn’t appropriate. Tell them when the time is appropriate.”
“How should I know when it’s appropriate to kiss someone?” he mumbled into Molly’s hide. “I never have.”
Her face suddenly appeared in front of him; she squatted close to Molly’s shoulder, laying one hand on the docile cow’s side. “What do you mean, you’ve never kissed a girl? What about Millie?”
Immediate, hot color boiled into his cheeks. He hadn’t meant for her to hear that! “Wait—you didn’t—I meant—”
But she was already shaking her head, eyes wide with realization. “You aren’t Breanna’s biological father,” she whispered the words and plopped down in the straw, as if her legs wouldn’t hold her anymore.
He eased away from Molly, taking a moment to look around and make sure none of the children were around.
“I am Breanna’s father in every way that matters,” he said in a low, firm voice. “I’ve taken care of her since the day she was born, and that makes me her pa. Not blood, not relations.”
Penny opened her mouth, probably to ask more questions, but shouts from outside drew Jonas away from Molly. He raised one hand for Penny to be quiet and when he heard, “Pa!” again, he rushed from the barn to help.
* * *
Penny couldn’t stop thinking about what Jonas had inadvertently revealed as she helped his children perform chores throughout the day.
As Matty showed her how to rub the clothes along the washboard for their weekly washing, she questioned everything she knew about her grandfather’s neighbor.
Her memories of the events from Philadelphia had grown vague as the years had passed. There had been whispers that Millie had been with child for weeks before Mrs. Trimble had called a meeting with the four girls from Penny’s dorm and shared that Millie would no longer be a part of the Academy. Penny had seen her roommate only once before Millie had been whisked away to an unknown location; the other girl had whispered that the bricklayer’s apprentice was the baby’s father. Penny had had no reason to disbelieve Millie, but now…
She’d only known Jonas as a laborer, someone in the peripheral sphere of her life. He often watched her with his piercing dark eyes when she came or went from the finishing school, though he’d never spoken to her. With his dust-covered hands and bricklayer’s apron, she’d thought him beneath her notice, but she would not turn away an admiring glance. She’d imagined he fancied her, but all of that changed with Millie’s revelation.
Then Penny had known—or thought she knew—that he was someone of loose morals. To compromise her friend’s virtue…
And now it seemed she’d been completely wrong all this time. Had Millie’s accusation caused Jonas to lose his livelihood? Had he been the one taken advantage of?
But why had he taken charge of Breanna? If he wasn’t the girl’s father, he couldn’t be held responsible for her.
Penny shook out a light-colored shirt that must belong to one of the bigger boys, turning her head when water droplets sprayed her. She clipped it to the hanging line, as Matty showed her, and couldn’t help but notice its worn condition and a tear near the bottom of the garment.
Jonas obviously worked himself to the bone to provide for these children. Children that weren’t even his responsibility. What kind of a man would do that, expecting nothing in return? An honorable one.
But she still didn’t understand why.
* * *
Jonas stayed in the fields as long as he could, avoiding Penny and the questions he knew she must have. He didn’t want to dredge up his past, didn’t want her to know how little his own parents had valued him and what their abandonment had caused him to do to survive.
He knew she hadn’t thought much of him, not if she’d believed Millie Broadhurst about Breanna’s parentage. But his pride didn’t want her opinion to worsen when she
found out about his past.
When his belly was roaring for some sustenance and it was almost dark, he couldn’t avoid home any longer.
After bedding down his horse, he approached the house and saw that she was waiting for him on the porch, backlit by the soft glow of a lamp shining out the window. As he got closer he could see she dozed in the chair, head lolling to one side. A quick glance revealed her dress was dirtier than he’d seen it before, with water-spots all down the front.
Matty and Breanna must’ve worked her pretty hard today.
Warmth flooded through him as he imagined coming home to her waiting for him like this every day…and he quickly shook that dangerous thought away. She’d made it clear several times that she was only here to help Walt for a little while. Best to keep his heart uninvolved.
Only he was afraid it was too late for that, after the way she’d defended Breanna yesterday.
She sighed in her sleep, the soft sound parting her lips and drawing his eyes. He could gaze at her for hours and not tire of learning her lovely features…and there was another dangerous thought. What he needed was to stay far, far away from his neighbor’s granddaughter.
“Penny,” he murmured, moving closer.
She stirred but didn’t wake. One copper curl slipped loose and fell across her cheek, tempting him to brush it away. Just brush his fingers against the softness of her cheek…
“Penny.” He shook her shoulder more forcefully than he’d intended.
She roused with a soft, “Hmm,” and an open smile that was like a fist to his chest, knocking his breath away.
He stepped off as she arched her back and stretched, trying desperately to keep the image of that joyous smile from burning into his brain. It made him want to pull her into an embrace…
“I must’ve fallen asleep,” Penny said, standing and a little wobbly on her feet. He reached out and her hand fell onto his forearm, burning fire through his shirt. “I wanted to talk with you…” Her voice faded away on a yawn.
“We should get you home. Plenty of time to talk later.” Or never, if he had his way.
“Ricky?” Jonas called quietly. The boy came to the back door. “Can you fetch a fresh horse and get him tacked up? I think Miss Penny is too tired to walk home on her own.”
Ricky hopped from the porch and raced across the rapidly darkening yard to do Jonas’s bidding.
“Should I have had him harness the wagon?” Jonas teased quietly as Penny wobbled again and this time settled right up against him, shoulder to shoulder. She was warm and pliant, felt a little like Breanna when she fell asleep in the wagon and he carried her inside. And nothing like Breanna, with curves only a woman could have.
He tilted his chin up and stared at the stars, denying the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulders and bring her closer. She wouldn’t want that.
If she’d been up in arms about Oscar stealing a kiss, she would surely be offended by his unwanted embrace.
“No…” Another yawn. “I’ll be fine. You don’t even have to take me home. I can bring the horse back in the morning.”
Ricky guided the horse close to the steps and Penny moved toward the animal, stumbling down the porch steps and into Jonas. He righted her with a hand on her upper arm, getting a whiff of her scent, something sweeter than flowers.
“I think I’d like to make sure you get there in one piece. And you don’t wander off in the wrong direction. Thanks, son.”
Jonas mounted up and Ricky helped Penny settle behind him, her small hands clutching the sides of his shirt, body supple and boneless against his back.
“All right?” He worried she’d fall asleep and slide off the horse behind him. “Do you need me to—hold you?” He bit off the strangled words.
“No, no,” her soft protest was spoken into the back of his shirt, the words heating his skin. “’M fine. Just go. Night, Rick.”
Half-disappointed and half-relieved, he nudged the horse into a walk. At least if they went slowly, she wouldn’t be hurt much if she dropped off the animal.
True to form, she was only silent for a moment. He was almost getting used to her chatter.
“Mmm. You smell like the barn.”
He tried to concentrate on her words instead of the brush of her chin against his shoulder blade. It didn’t sound like a good thing. He knew what he smelled like. Sweat and horse. “I’ve been working in the fields all day. Barely in the barn.”
“Reminds me of hugging Poppy when I was a girl.”
Her words reflected the affection she felt. He’d never heard her call Walt Poppy, it was always Grandfather. Her speech was always proper, just like she was. Except for now.
Then she was quiet, her breathing even as it puffed against the back of his neck. He was still afraid she would fall asleep, so he asked a question.
“How often did you visit your grandparents?”
“Mmm…” she hummed, the soft sound vibrating through his shirt and making his stomach swoop. “Haven’t visited much since I left for Philadelphia. My father doesn’t want me to come. Before that…every summer.”
“Really?” That was surprising. He couldn’t picture her following Peg into the barn to milk cows or gather eggs. “I wouldn’t think you’d enjoy the homestead much. Too quiet.”
“I do like conversing with my friends, but…” She sighed. “I love the horses. I helped saddle-break Patches, you know.”
Another surprise. “No, I didn’t know that.”
They crested the final hill before Walt’s place and the moonlight showed the small house, barn and corral in stark relief against the darker landscape. A light burned in the window. Probably Walt waiting on his granddaughter to arrive home.
“I didn’t know a lot of things about you.” Her words came slower now, almost dreamily.
Jonas kept his eyes focused ahead, wondering what Penny thought every time she saw this place. It sounded like she had good childhood memories here, but now that she was used to finery and wealth, did she see Walt’s homestead differently?
“Thought you had loose morals…”
Her hands fisted in the material of Jonas’s shirt, brushing against his sides and making him jump. The horse beneath him shied a bit, reacting to his abrupt movement, and Jonas patted the animal’s neck, calming it. He knew it shouldn’t bother him that Penny had thought the same as all the others had, that he was capable of fathering a child out of wedlock, but it rankled. He’d wanted Penny to see past the bricklayer’s shy apprentice to who he was inside.
“But I found out I was wrong.”
Jonas hadn’t meant for her to find out about Breanna’s parentage; he still didn’t quite know what to say to her to convince her to keep it between the two of them.
They entered the yard between Walt’s cabin and the barn, and Jonas slowed the horse.
“…Found out you’re a man I can admire.”
Jonas’s heart pulsed at the same time he reined in the horse. His mind shouted distance! distance! because she didn’t know about his own past and she’d most likely think differently about him when she did. But his heart caught on her admiration. He wanted her to think highly about him.
He didn’t say anything as he dismounted from the horse and reached up for her waist.
“Oh!” she gasped softly, wobbling but not coming toward him. “My foot’s caught—”
Jonas rounded the horse and freed her ankle from one of the saddle straps. She swung her leg over the horse’s back and slid to the ground, putting them face-to-face with the horse between. Light from Walt’s window painted her features golden and Jonas knew his must be in shadow—an apt metaphor for the difference in their circumstances.
“Why did you do it?” she asked, her gaze aware and frank with curiosity. She wasn’t as sleepy as he’d thought. “Why did you take on Breanna’s care instead of telling the truth?”
He could still remember being in the Broadhursts’ stifling parlor, hat in hand, too afraid to sit for fear of getting brick du
st on the fancy furniture. Remembered Millie’s formidable father and the accusations he’d thrown at Jonas while Millie had sat crying on a sofa nearby. And he still remembered his own rising anger that had caused words to spew from his mouth before he’d really thought.
“They were going to just throw her away,” he said, dropping his voice at the end of his sentence so maybe she wouldn’t hear the anger still simmering all these years later.
“What? Who, Breanna?”
He looked away, pretending to adjust one of the buckles on the saddle, because he didn’t want Penny to see the emotion he knew was written on his face.
“The Broadhursts paid me to take Breanna and leave Philadelphia. I think they still wanted to try and make their daughter a society match.” Something he knew Penny wanted as well. Something impossible to someone like him. “If I hadn’t…” He swallowed, the remembered words Mr. Broadhurst had said ringing in his ears. Don’t want the disgrace. Atrocity. Trash. Mistake. Words he’d heard applied to himself as a child…
“If you hadn’t taken Breanna…” Penny prodded, touching the back of his hand and bringing his gaze back up to meet her compassion-filled eyes.
He made himself say the words. “They would have given her up. Put her in an orphanage—” He exhaled heavily, trying to steady his voice. “Abandoned her.” As his parents had done to him.
“Would that have been so bad? Aren’t—don’t orphanages, I mean, they help children who don’t have anyone else, right?”
He could see in her face she didn’t understand. She had probably never ever set foot in one of the overcrowded, noisy, lonely places. Had never been told she wasn’t wanted. Something he never wanted Breanna to feel.
“But she did have someone,” he stated simply, matter-of-factly. “Me.” Unwilling, unable to tell her more. “You’d better go in.”
Her face crinkled at his dismissal, but the emotions crowding his chest made it necessary.
He’d known she wouldn’t understand what abandonment felt like, or what it meant to grow up in a place with a hundred other kids, crowded and with no privacy, no hope of finding a place, a family. Or on the streets, in the cold, moving from place to place.
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