“Can I go with you, Luke?” Michael, his blue-green eyes dancing, rose up to sit on one leg.
Lara shook her head. “Of course not. You’re much too young.”
“There was kids in the other land runs.”
“Only because their parents had no place to leave them during the race.” Gabe pointed to Michael’s plate. “Eat your breakfast, son. There are chores to be done.”
“Aww …”
“Michael?” Lara lifted one brow.
Her son ducked his head. “Yes, sir. Sorry, Pa.”
Jamie squealed and tossed a gummy biscuit halfway across the table, eliciting a snicker from Luke. Jo turned toward her son. “No. No. We don’t throw food.”
Jamie puckered up, but before he could start crying, Jo grabbed her spoon and slid a bite of apple butter into his mouth. His expression instantly softened, and his eyes lit up as he smacked his lips.
Sarah smiled and focused on finishing her own meal. She enjoyed the antics that occurred with a baby at the table. Meals at Badger’s house had been so different. The women mostly talked about the guests they’d entertained the night before. Sarah preferred to eat in the kitchen with the cook or out on the back porch alone. She’d hated that place and had even started praying to Lara’s God that He would let her stay here and not have to return. But if Badger found her … she shuddered to think what he would do.
She wanted to keep learning to read. Already she could sound out easy words, and the thrill of that achievement was more than anything she’d ever done. She might never have learned to read if she’d stayed with her mother. Although many Indian children were attending schools these days, Etsi hadn’t wanted her to suffer the insults she would face for being a half-breed. So Etsi had kept her home … until the day Badger arrived. Her mother had called him Pete, but she was the only one.
She stirred her eggs with her fork, not really hungry anymore. Thoughts of how Badger had taken her from her dying mother always ruined her appetite. She hadn’t wanted to leave Etsi with no one to care for her, but even Etsi had agreed she should go. What would have happened to her if she had stayed once Etsi was gone?
Maybe she should be more grateful to Badger, but she found it difficult. Her mother said he was her father, but Sarah had never seen him before. She wouldn’t have known him if she had passed him on the street. If he cared for her, why hadn’t he been there when she was small? Why hadn’t he helped Etsi? And what purpose could he have for her now that she was nearly an adolescent? She shuddered to think he’d make her do what the other women did.
No, she would never go back. No matter what.
Chapter 12
Jack stood outside Comstock’s General Store, listening to Mildred Yates rattle off a list of her ailments. Her grandson, Seth, sat on the nearby steps next to Lee, tossing clods of dirt into the street. Jack looked for Nick but didn’t see the boy.
Mrs. Yates rubbed the small of her back. “These cloudy days make my rheumatism worse. I tell you, Parson, it’s gonna rain before the day’s over.”
He suspected as much just from looking at the pewter sky, and there was a bit of chill to the air but not enough to don a duster.
“And my Henry, why, you should see the size of the boil on his … um … you know.” She swatted her hand in the direction of her backside, her cheeks turning bright red. She snapped her fingers. “Seth, it’s time we was gettin’ home. C’mon, now.”
“Yes’m.” The child, who looked to be a year or so older than Lee, rose and gazed down at the boy. “Nice throwin’ dirt with ya.”
Lee grinned and waved but didn’t say anything. Jack’s heart warmed at seeing Lee smile. The boy had been quiet and withdrawn for nearly the whole week he’d stayed with Jack. He looked for Nick again. Where had that boy gotten to?
A shout and then rapid footsteps made him turn around. Nick ran smack into him. Jack lifted his arms, catching the boy, and took a step back for balance. Nick squirmed, trying to get loose, but Jack held on to him.
Abel Comstock rushed out the door, his gaze harried. “Hang on to him. He stole something from my store. I turned to see him snatch something from the glass display. He stuck it in his pocket.”
Jack pushed Nick back to where he could see the boy’s face, but Nick hung his head. “Look at me, son.”
Nick’s head jerked up. “I told you before—I ain’t your son.”
The anger in his gaze slashed Jack, but he shook off the pain. He’d been Nick at one time and had made bad choices, too. “What did you take?”
The starch left Nick’s shoulders, and he tucked his chin to his chest and shrugged.
“Show me.”
With a loud sigh, Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. Jack ground his back teeth together. He couldn’t fault Nick for wanting a knife, especially that one with its shiny silver and inlaid bone. But stealing was wrong. He’d learned that the hard way. “Nick, give the knife back to Mr. Comstock and apologize.”
Nick scowled and shot Jack an angry glance then turned and shuffled toward the store owner. He passed the knife to Mr. Comstock, but not before running his thumb across the bone. “Sorry.”
“I accept your apology, but I think it’s best you don’t come in my store again.” Abel glanced at Jack, gave a curt nod, and strode back inside.
Jack wondered if he’d have any friends left by the time he found a place for the boys. “I’m of a mind to take you home and feed you bread and water for a week.”
Nick’s gaze flicked to Jack’s, probably checking to see if he was serious. “Pa always said we have to watch out for ourselves ’cause no one else will. I need that knife.”
“If a man needs something, he works until he has the money to buy it. He doesn’t steal it. Understand?”
Nick nodded. Lee shuffled over to stand beside his brother then took his hand.
“You’re the oldest, Nick. It’s up to you to set a good example for Lee. Do you want him to steal from others and get into trouble?” He wanted to say, “Like what happened to your pa,” but he didn’t.
“Naw, I reckon not.”
“Good. Remember that he’s watching everything you do, and your example is the one he’s most likely to follow.” Jack’s belly grumbled, and Lee smiled. “Now, let’s go get some lunch.”
As they crossed the street and angled for the café, Ted Sizemore and Bill Arnold exited the Hungry Cowpoke Café. The men were deep in conversation when Mr. Arnold noticed them. He poked his friend and nudged his chin in their direction. Ted Sizemore turned, placing his hands on his hips, and frowned. Jack wished there were some other place to eat, but the Hungry Cowpoke was it.
He nodded to the men as he and the boys drew near. “Afternoon.”
Mr. Arnold nodded back, but Ted Sizemore just stared at the boys. Lee backed up until he bumped into Jack’s legs. Jack placed a hand on the youngster’s shoulder to comfort him.
“Why don’t you two go inside and get us a table. I’ll be right in.” He glanced at Nick, who nodded and took Lee’s hand.
Mr. Sizemore stepped aside to let them enter, but his frown remained. As soon as the door closed, he set his sights on Jack. “We don’t want their kind in Glen Haven. Them boys is trouble.”
“They’re just kids. They need to be guided and trained like any others.” Jack was thankful the duo hadn’t witnessed Nick’s escapade at Comstock’s. “I think you’re being awfully hard-nosed about this situation. Where’s your Christian compassion? Those boys already lost their ma and two sisters to illness, and now their pa is dead.”
Mr. Arnold looked somewhat chastised, but Mr. Sizemore continued to glare at Jack.
“You’ve only got another eight days to find a home for them hooligans—and I sure hope it’s not in this town.” What he didn’t say—that Jack might be out of a job—hung as heavy in the air as the moisture from the coming storm. A bolt of lightning zigzagged across the southern sky, as if to emphasize the point.
“I’m doing
my best, but it’s not easy to find a place for two kids.”
“Then separate them. Shouldn’t be too hard to place that bigger boy. Lots of folks need help on their ranches.”
“I’m looking for a home where they will be loved and treated like family, not like workhorses.”
“You’d best just take the first offer that comes along, or you may be sorry.”
“Those boys are more important than my job.”
Mr. Sizemore frowned. “I’m right sorry to hear you feel that way. Folks like to think their pastor cares about them more’n some raggedy orphans.”
Jack’s anger grew at the pompous man’s declaration. “I do care about the people in my church, but those orphans have the same right to my time as my parishioners. James 1:27 says, ‘Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction.’ Besides, I haven’t neglected my church duties to care for those kids, and I won’t.”
Mr. Sizemore shrugged. “It may not matter if you don’t find them a home soon. Y’all will be on your way out of town—together.”
Jack nodded and ducked into the café before he did something he’d regret. Uncompassionate and insensitive men like Mr. Sizemore who felt they had more say than others because they had deeper pockets had no call to be leaders in the church.
On her first day to work with Baron, Jo walked around Hillborne’s General Store, noticing the subtle changes he had made. He’d moved the fabric section to the wall beside the windows where the ladies would have more light to view the selection but the sun wouldn’t fade the wares. The canned goods were now on the wall opposite the ready-made garments, and the farm tools were still at the back of the store.
The familiar scent of spices, leather, and the pickles that sat in a big barrel near the front door lulled her to a contented state. She’d always enjoyed working in the store around so many new items, except for when Mark was in one of his moods. She shook off the thought, not wanting to dampen the day.
She glanced down at her shaking hands. She hadn’t thought about how much she’d be alone with Baron when she’d blurted out that she needed a job. But he wasn’t like the other men she’d encountered—the ones who raked her body with their leering gazes and looked at her as if she were a delicious meal to be devoured. Baron’s eyes were kind, and although she thought she’d noticed attraction in his gaze, there was nothing improper in his manner or actions. Maybe he was a man she could be friends with. Time would tell.
She pulled her eyes off him and studied the store again. “I like the changes you’ve made.”
Baron cocked his head. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“Why should it?”
“Well … you worked here with my brother.”
She shrugged. “Mark was always changing things around. I’d put something one place, and two days later, he’d move it back or to a new spot. He said people came in the store more often if things looked different.”
“That is true, but I’d like to hear your opinion. If you feel we need to move things, especially the women’s items, please tell me.”
Jo nodded. Mark had wanted her opinion at first, but she soon learned that he rarely listened and would do what he saw fit. Would Baron be the same?
“What would you like me to do first?”
He turned, looking around the room. “I always seem to be fighting the dust that’s so prevalent here.”
Jo nodded and walked to the counter, retrieving the feather duster; then she moved to the canned goods area. As she tended to the task, she thought about last Sunday when Baron had arrived unexpectedly at the ranch. She’d feared him finding out about Jamie, but it would seem her worries were unfounded. The man was enamored with her son and thrilled to be an uncle.
Baron carried a crate in from the storeroom and set it on the counter. “What duties did you attend to when you worked here before?”
“I generally assisted the women who came in while Mark helped the men, and I did the book work. I’m good with numbers, where Mark hated paperwork.”
Baron nodded. “He never has liked sitting at a desk or doing menial work, as he called it.” His lips pursed as if he were remembering something.
“But I’ll do whatever you need me to. I just have to leave here by four to get back to my sister’s place before dark.”
“I don’t mind closing early if we aren’t busy. That way I can escort you.”
Jo swiped the duster over some boxes of crackers. “That isn’t necessary. I’m a good rider. That’s why I rode one of Gabe’s horses instead of bringing a wagon.” And she had a pistol her grandpa had given her for protection, but Baron didn’t need to know that.
The door opened, ringing the bell above it. A woman walked in, holding the hand of a girl who looked to be about six.
Jo glanced at Baron, and he nodded for her to assist the customer.
“Welcome to Hillborne’s,” Jo said as she approached the woman. “Can I help you find something?”
“I need some thread and a new sewing needle.”
Jo stepped back and held out her hand toward the fabric area. “They are right over here.”
“Thank you.” The woman smiled at Jo then glanced down at her daughter. “Come along, Pamela, let’s see what pretty threads we can find for your sampler.”
Jo walked over to the counter where Baron was unpacking the crate. She picked up a plate with a lovely blue-and-pink floral pattern that he set down. “These are pretty.”
“My mother selected them.”
Jo glanced at him. “She picks out your wares?”
“Not normally, but I’m …” He looked away then back, his neck red. “Well, the truth is, I’m sort of color blind. Have you heard of that? It used to be called Daltonism.”
“Oh. Is that why you always wear clothing in shades of brown?”
He glanced at the customer then down at his clothing. “Mother thought it would make things easier for me since all the various pieces would match.”
“It does make sense, but I could never stand to wear the same color all the time.” Instantly her thoughts jumped to the deep blue silk dresses she’d been forced to wear at Badger’s bordello. Mark had once said the color brought out the blue in her eyes. Now she could hardly stand the shade.
“Fortunately, you don’t have to worry about that.”
“So … can I ask what you do see? Is everything black and white, or do you see some color?”
“I have no trouble with blues and yellows. It’s the red and green shades that make me pause.”
“Why don’t you wear blue—or yellow?”
He shrugged. “Blues weren’t in style when I was younger. I’ve always had brown clothes made; then I never had to worry about matching colors.”
She glanced around the store, appreciating the variety of colors, and felt a bit sad for him. She loved looking at a field of wildflowers or a rainbow in the sky. Jo turned back to face him. “Just let me know if you need my help with any things with color.”
He smiled. “I appreciate that.”
“So, are we going to remove some of the dishes you currently have on the shelves to make room for these new ones?”
“I was considering putting these in the window—at least some of them.” He lifted up a plate with an ivy pattern. “What do you think about that?”
She liked that he asked her opinion, but would he do what she suggested? Most of the time Mark didn’t.
The woman and child came up to the counter, and while Baron checked them out, she studied the current window display. On one side were several cast-iron skillets with a trio of pancake mix boxes beside a mixing bowl. The other side sported a sack of horse feed, a fancy saddle, and a bridle.
The bell rang as their customers left.
“So, have you been having more male or female customers?”
Baron glanced toward the ceiling for a moment, and Jo followed his gaze, noticing a cobweb that needed to be knocked dow
n.
“Since I’ve been here, there have been more women coming in.”
“In light of that, how would you feel about removing the tack and feed from this window and making the whole thing geared toward women?”
She held her breath as he contemplated her suggestion; then he nodded. “It makes sense. Let’s do it.”
Her breath whooshed out. Smiling, she spun around and snatched the bridle from the display. Baron walked to the window, lifted out the saddle, and carried it to the supply room.
Jo studied the stack of tablecloths then pulled out a cornflower-blue one with tiny white dots. It would go perfectly with the dishes. After Baron removed the sack of feed, she dusted the window display area and then spread out the tablecloth, leaving parts of it poofed up. She placed a stack of three plates in the center with a saucer and coffee cup on the right. Tapping her finger against her lip, she tried to think what else was needed. More color?
Jo crossed the store and studied the collection of glasses, settling on one that was clear at the top and a pinkish red at the bottom. She filled it with water from a bucket in the storeroom then set it down. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she hurried out the rear door. She was certain she’d noticed some wildflowers near Baron’s barn.
As she walked behind the fancy house Mark had built for her, it amazed her that she didn’t miss it. She’d always wanted a pretty home with wood floors and ceilings that weren’t made of dirt and didn’t have varmints crawling in them. She shuddered at the memory of living in a sod house. The dugout they stayed in when they first arrived at the section of land Gabe had won in the land run hadn’t been much better—just a bit bigger.
Her gaze latched onto a patch of white daisies growing alongside the barn. She checked on her horse, making sure it still had water, then picked a handful of flowers. Back in the store, she heard Baron talking to someone while she arranged the flowers. Eager to see the final effect, she returned to the window and placed the cup on the right side of the plates. She hurried out the front door and stared at the display. All it needed was a backdrop of some sort on the two-foot-high wall at the back of the display area. That crocheted tablecloth would be just the thing.
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