Ant leaned over her, his height making it easy to see into the pantry. “Didn’t even know this was there.” He backed away from her.
Harriet rolled her eyes. Just like a man. She turned toward him. “You didn’t make a thorough investigation of the house?”
Amusement glinted in his eyes, although he kept his face deadpan. “No, my lady.”
“Did you look through the outbuildings? Henhouse? Smokehouse? Root cellar? Icehouse?”
He held up both hands in a placating motion. “I’m a newspaper reporter. What do I know about henhouses and root cellars?” he said, laughter in his voice.
“Well, I’m a schoolteacher, and I know about them.”
“I’m a roving reporter, not one who has a regular beat in town.” His expression changed. From the look on his face, he obviously was remembering that he no longer roamed Europe in search of news stories.
Not wanting to lose the feeling of happiness and camaraderie between them, Harriet grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the doorway. “Come on. I want to see the rest of the house, and,” she teased, “the barn, henhouse, smokehouse, root cellar, icehouse, privy, and pig pen.”
Ant groaned. His huge hand enveloped hers, and then he obediently followed.
When they reached the doorway, Harriet knew she needed to drop his hand. Their connection, the playfulness between them felt too good. I’m his employee, she reminded herself, and slid her fingers out of his, feeling a sense of loss when he pulled his hand back.
Living under the same roof might be harder than I thought.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ant drove David in the buggy over the final hill leading toward the Sanders place. At the top, he couldn’t help but pause the horses to admire the beauty of the scene before them. In the valley, a small lake sparkled in the sun. A long pasture fenced with barbed wire on the opposite side of the lake provided room for horses to graze.
A more distant field held cattle, although Ant understood that Sanders mostly focused on horses. He didn’t have a spread big enough for cattle, and, with a wealthy wife, the man didn’t have the need to run a herd. By all accounts Nick Sanders was a wizard with horses and could afford to specialize.
Near the lake, a grove of trees sheltered a small house. Ant looked away, not wanting to remember the last time he’d seen that house...his discovery of Harriet’s feelings for Nick Sanders. Instead, he glanced at the Queen Anne on the hill reigning over the valley.
Even in the few days since he’d last been here, Ant could see the workmen had made more progress on the house. They’d finished the front porch that wrapped around two sides, but not painted it yet. Ant figured he could knock on the front door instead of going around to the kitchen as the guests had at the party.
The sound of hammers rang through the air. On the other side of the Queen Anne was a tent town for the workers who still swarmed the place to get more of the house completed by winter. He’d have to speak with whomever was in charge about building his office.
But not today. Ant glanced down at David, seeing the eager expression on his nephew’s face as he watched the horses. Today is a time for David.
Ant didn’t have long to ponder which door of the house to use because Nick Sanders walked out of the barn. He swerved to avoid some chickens pecking at the ground and glanced over at the visitors. He pushed back his black hat, grinned, and gave a friendly wave.
Ant pulled up beside him. “Sanders. Came to see if you have a horse I can buy for my nephew.”
“My friends call me Nick.”
Ant had to rein-in his instinctive growl at the idea of being friends with the object of Harriet’s affections. But in spite of some lingering hostility, Ant couldn’t help but like the man.
“Also going to need a horse to pull a buggy. We’re renting Mack’s buggy so often it would be cheaper to buy.”
“You mean that big black of yours won’t demean himself to pull a buggy?”
“Not Shadow. If I value my life, I won’t even try.”
Nick laughed and reached up a hand to help David jump down.
To Ant’s surprise, the boy accepted, although he let go when his feet touched the ground. Then David allowed Nick to drop a casual hand on his shoulder without flinching as he did with his uncle.
Nick pointed at a corral. “Why don’t you go look at those horses, David, while I talk to your uncle.”
Ant stared after David as he ran toward the corral. The boy had always shied away from being touched, yet he’d just let a virtual stranger help him down and place a hand on his shoulder. Ant stored that fact away to mull over.
One of the cowhands ambled out of the barn, walking in the bowlegged stride of a man who practically lived on horseback. Nick summoned him over with a jerk of his head.
As he drew close, Ant could see the cowboy was old with a tanned, seamed face.
Nick asked the hand to see to Ant’s horse. The man smiled and nodded at Ant, showing stumps of teeth in pink gums.
Ant set the brake, gave the man the reins, and stepped down.
They started toward the corral. Then Nick slowed his steps and shot him a quick upward glance. “From what I’ve heard, your boy’s looking better.”
“Still doesn’t talk though.”
“Well,” Nick’s voice slowed to a drawl. “I wasn’t ever much for talking either. You know if he’s ridden much?”
“He was quite experienced for a city boy. Had lessons. I took him riding a few times. Good seat. Light hands on the reins. Since then...” Ant shrugged. “They had an old mule. Bag of bones. Doesn’t look like it could carry a sack of beans, much less a man.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed, giving a menacing cast to his pleasant features. “Saw the mule at the livery yesterday. Recognized it. Saw David’s pa once. Rode into town on that mule. Thought it would collapse, but it kept right on plodding along. Stronger than it looks. Was tempted to take a whip to the man for starving an animal that way.”
“I wish you had,” Ant muttered.
Nick grinned. “Snuck the mule some feed while the man was in the saloon.”
Ant stopped and stared. “You fed a stranger’s mount?”
“Woulda bought the poor thing. Planned to approach the man. But that was when we had all that ruckus about Samantha Rodriguez’s twins and the fires. Reverend Norton came up to me to tell me about the town meetin’ and the poor critter went plumb out of my mind. Then later, when I remembered, I figured I’d meet up with the owner again. But I never did.” He gave Ant a quick apologetic glance. “David wasn’t with him, though.”
“Harriet—Miss Stanton told me about what happened with the twins.”
Nick’s eyes twinkled. “Goin’ to be interesting, you and Miss Stanton living together.”
Ant didn’t want to talk about Harriet with the man she loved. “You have a horse that would suit David?”
Nick flowed with the conversational switch. “Let’s mount him on a gentle old mare. See how he does.”
For the next few hours, Nick worked with David, first with the placid old mare, then, when satisfied with his riding skills, with a more spirited animal.
All the while Ant leaned against the rails of the corral and watched.
Nick’s assessment of David impressed Ant. The man didn’t just stand back and watch how David rode, he stepped in to teach, giving directions in a calm voice, and using brief touches to guide the boy.
David took everything in, responding with a promptness that spoke well of his understanding and eagerness to ride. Ant watched his nephew so closely that he didn’t realize anyone had approached, until with a swish of skirt and the scent of perfume, Elizabeth Sanders leaned into the rail next to him. She smiled in greeting, but didn’t say anything, joining Ant’s focus on man and boy.
Nick had David canter to the other end of the corral and strode after him, calling out a command.
“Your husband has a way with him,” Ant murmured.
Elizabeth turned to Ant and g
ave him a luminous smile.
He had to blink to break the attraction that would naturally occur to a man in the presence of a beautiful woman who smiled at him so openly. He inhaled, breathing in the smell of horse and manure and dirt, combined with Elizabeth Sanders’ perfume. Even dressed in simple clothing and wearing a straw hat, the woman exuded elegance.
“Nick’s wonderful with horses and children. The first day I was here in Montana, I watched him work with Lizzy Carter. The Carter children adore him.”
“I can see why. David’s relaxed around him, and you don’t know how much that means to me.”
Her expression sobered. “I’ve heard your nephew’s not speaking a word. Widow Murphy’s cutting tongue has spread the gossip.”
Ant had to refrain from another growl. He was turning into a bear today.
Mrs. Sanders didn’t seem to notice. “But David looks perfectly normal to me.”
“He doesn’t talk.”
“He doesn’t talk yet.”
“What if he never does?” Why am I telling this woman my deep fear?
Mrs. Sanders placed her hand on his arm. “There are plenty of men out here who don’t say much. My husband was one of them, although with me, he managed to work his way around that...eventually. Nick’s changed quite a bit. So even if he doesn’t talk, David will be able to read and write, gesture. He’ll get by.”
David walked the horse over to them, Nick striding by his side.
“He’s been so frightened of everything...everyone...even me.”
Elizabeth waved toward David. “Yet to see him there, except for being so thin, you’d never know something was wrong. He’s a regular boy on a horse.”
David reined in the mare.
Nick patted the boy’s knee, then the horse’s withers. “David’s doing well. I have several horses that should suit him. But I have one I think will be the best. A well-mannered gelding that has enough spirit to please a boy.”
Sanders tapped David’s knee. “Wait here. I’m going to saddle a horse up for you.” He turned and headed toward the barn, climbing over the railing instead of going through the gate.
Ant glanced at Mrs. Sanders for more information.
She just looked amused and shook her head.
In a few minutes, Nick appeared, leading two horses, one a pinto gelding, and another a brown filly. When he came closer, Ant could see a patch of white hair on the mare’s forehead, shaped like a star.
The brown horse nickered at Elizabeth, who ran a hand down the filly’s nose.
“I saddled her for you, Elizabeth, because when I walked past her stall, she made it clear to me it was time to go outside.” He looked at Ant. “Star’s too young to ride, but we’re getting’ her used to the saddle. When we’re done here, Elizabeth will take her for a walk.”
The woman smiled at the horse. “I don’t have a treat for you right now, Star.”
Nick handed her Star’s reins, then looked up at David. “Dismount, and I’ll put that saddle on the Pinto.”
The boy obeyed.
Nick opened the gate and led Chester the Pinto into the corral. He made quick work of changing the saddle, then motioned for David to come forward and mount.
Once on the horse, Nick motioned David to walk the horse around the corral. Again, he studied the rider, and gave instructions.
David became more relaxed in the saddle. The joyful look on his face brought a lump to Ant’s throat.
“They look good together.” Elizabeth murmured.
After about half an hour, Nick motioned for David to come to the fence and dismount. He took the reins and led the Pinto out of the corral and over to them. David trotted by his side.
Elizabeth laughed. “You’re going to turn into quite a cowboy, David.”
The boy grinned at her and petted the filly’s nose.
“This is Star,” Nick said. “She’s a special horse—”
“Magical,” Elizabeth interrupted.
Nick laughed. “A magical horse,” he echoed. “Star was just a day old when haughty Miss Elizabeth Hamilton, newly arrived from Boston, visited dam and foal and went down on her knees in the stall and gave the filly a hug. I knew right then, I was in big trouble.”
David looked up and gave him a curious look.
Nick ruffled the boy’s hair. “I fell in love, David.
The boy made a face.
Nick flicked the tip of David’s nose. “You just wait until it happens to you.”
“And I…” Mrs. Sanders picked up the story, “Fell in love too.” She paused for emphasis. “With a foal.”
Ant laughed, and even David crooked a smile.
She petted Star’s nose. “I realized that living in Montana might have some redeeming features after all.”
Nick grinned at her. “You mean me?”
She playfully lifted her nose in the air. “I meant the foal.”
“The Carters gave us the filly as a wedding present.” Nick looked down at David. “Your uncle can bring you here as often as you want, and I’ll work with you to develop your riding skills.”
A generous offer from a man who must have a lot better things to do with his time.
Elizabeth touched David’s shoulder. “As I said, he’s going to turn into a cowboy, Mr. Gordon.”
“Call me Ant.”
Elizabeth giggled.
Ant gave her a sheepish look. “A university nickname. Now, about the Pinto...”
David’s face was turned to his. The pleading in the boy’s brown eyes took Ant back years. Emily had given him those looks before, and Ant had been equally unable to resist his young sister.
Ant stuck his hand out to Sanders. “You have yourself a deal.”
David clapped his hands together and gave a little bounce, which was all the thank you Ant needed.
He’d only bought a horse, but Ant realized that what he’d really just received was a gift of friendship from an extraordinary couple. He’d met a lot of people in his life. With his career, he’d mostly focused on the bad ones, and thus he had developed a cynical outlook on life.
Maybe it’s time to turn my attention to the givers.
* * *
Harriet hummed under her breath, bent over the table in the kitchen of Ant’s new home, carefully cutting the cotton material pinned to a paper pattern. She loved the design of ferns and leaves in shades of gray and black on a black background. What luck that old Abe had left behind his wife’s Singer sewing machine! Although she wasn’t the best dressmaker, she could sew a skirt to go with the white bodice she’d picked out at the mercantile with the credit that Ant had gifted her.
Harriet loved the leg-of-mutton sleeves—the first she’d ever had on a dress—and the lace at the cuffs, as well as a froth spilling at the neck. Then she’d splurged on material to make a skirt with the back flared in the latest style to wear to Samantha’s wedding.
It had been a long time since Harriet had made herself anything new. Not since she’d come to Sweetwater Springs. Even if she’d wanted to use some of her house money, Mrs. Cobb wouldn’t have let her commandeer the kitchen for a sewing project.
She gave a wiggle of happiness, enjoying having the kitchen of Ant’s house to herself. David was asleep in his room, and Ant sat in the big chair in the parlor reading.
Their first day in the new place had gone perfectly. Ant had dropped off Harriet and her possessions and left her with David, while he went back into town on business.
David had sat on her bed while she unpacked, watching everything with curious brown eyes. She kept up a stream of one-way conversation, although sometimes he nodded or shook his head in the appropriate places, so she knew he’d listened.
She and David had explored the house together, peering into every nook and cranny. Harriet took an almost proprietary delight in each new discovery. After they’d exhausted all the possibilities inside, the two had roamed around the property familiarizing themselves with each building. Then they’d wandered down to the st
ream, where David taught her how to skip rocks. Somehow he managed to convey what he wanted without using any words at all.
Harriet finished cutting out one piece of fabric and started on another one. A line of a poem came into her mind, and she started playing with it. By the time she’d completed the pattern, she had several lines.
I need to write them down.
Eager to find a paper and pencil, but not wanting to leave a mess in the kitchen, Harriet unpinned the paper from the material, sticking the pins into her little velvet cushion. Then she rolled the skirt into a neat bundle. Gathering up everything and taking the oil lamp, she walked into the other room. Ant didn’t look up from his reading.
In her bedroom, she allowed herself a sigh of satisfaction at seeing the colorful crazy quilt made by her mother draped over the bed. Setting the dress pieces and the rest of her sewing things in a box in the corner, she found her poetry journey and pencil.
Harriet carried them into the main room, sat down on the settee, pulled the oil lamp closer so she could see, and began to write. When she’d jotted the words down, she played with them, scratching out a couple and substituting new ones.
Ant looked up from his book. “Working on your new column?” he said, a teasing light in his eyes.
Harriet pulled herself out of her reverie. “A poem.”
Ant’s expression shuttered. He gave her a short nod, and then turned back to his book.
Harriet’s pencil hovered over the page as she tried to figure out what had just happened. Although he hadn’t said anything, Ant seemed to radiate disapproval about her writing. No, not about the writing. When he thought she was working on a column, he was approving.
About my poetry.
Well some people didn’t like poetry or judged it frivolous. But she hadn’t thought Ant would be in that group and couldn’t help feeling hurt about his dismissal of something she found so pleasurable.
Debra Holland Page 20