Wolf Creek Father (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 3)

by Penny Richards

  “I understand.”

  Allison hugged the older woman and left, her heart much lighter. Wearing a broad smile, she practically skipped across the street back toward the café. Now she just had to try to talk Ellie into helping teach Cilla embroidery. She’d thought about asking her when she was there earlier, before she and Colt left, but hadn’t wanted him around, in case her sister declined. Of course, Allison doubted she would. Ellie was such a softy that it shouldn’t be too hard to convince her to help.

  “Oh, Allison!” her sister wailed when Allison explained what she and Colt hoped to do. “You know I’m stretched pretty thin.”

  “I realize that, but I also know that you’re much better at needlework than I am, and I know that you’re teaching Beth in the evenings. I wouldn’t expect you to take her every night, just an hour or so once or twice a week to show her the different stitches and watch her progress.”

  “Well...it sounds like a good plan,” Ellie conceded.

  “I think it will be,” Allison said, knowing that she’d won. “I feel fairly confident that in time I can make some inroads with Cilla, but Brady’s another thing altogether. I hope I can find the key to help him learn.”

  “You’re a good person, sister dear,” Ellie said with a fond smile. “Some man should snatch you up, love the living daylights out of you and give you a house full of babies of your own.”

  The image that flashed through Allison’s mind robbed her of breath. Colt loving the daylights out of her. Two little boys with sun-streaked hair who looked just like him, running and flinging themselves into her arms.

  “Allie?”

  Allison’s head jerked around, a faraway expression in her eyes. “Hmm?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” A sigh whispered through her lips. Pipe dreams. Hadn’t she already acknowledged that a man like Colt would never be interested in someone like her?

  “How was Colt about all this?”

  “Hmm?” Allison said again.

  “Allie...what is it that you aren’t telling me?”

  Rats! She’d better get control of herself and her errant daydreams. Ellie was as sharp as a tack. “Nothing. It’s just been an eventful morning and I still have a lot to do.”

  Still wearing a look of skepticism, Ellie let the comment pass.

  “I think I’ll go over to the mercantile and see what Gabe has in the way of embroidery notions. It would make a nice gift for Cilla, don’t you think?”

  “It would,” Ellie agreed. “When you get finished, stop back by and have a bite of lunch. I’m making a big kettle of chicken and noodles.”

  “I don’t need noodles,” Allison said. “They’ll go straight to my hips.”

  “Silly girl. When will you ever get over the fact that you are not overweight? Well, not much, anyway. You’re built more or less like me.”

  “Am not!” Allison said, her gaze roaming her sister’s tall voluptuousness.

  “Are so!” Ellie responded, one of their favorite means of arguing as kids. “You’re just me in miniature, but the thing is that you’re... Well, there’s no way to say it but to tell the truth. You’re much...uh, bustier than I am.”

  Allison’s mouth fell open in shock. “Bustier?” she squeaked in a horrified whisper and glanced around the café to see if anyone had overheard.

  “Yes. And the clothes you insist on wearing to hide the problem only add insult to injury,” Ellie added, disregarding her sibling’s warning look.

  “I appreciate your loyalty and your love,” Allison said, “but I am what I am. Plump.”

  Ellie’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Are not.”

  In spite of her irritation with her sister, Allison couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible,” she said, giving Ellie an impulsive hug.

  As she passed through the doorway, she thought she heard her sister murmur, “Am not.”

  * * *

  Allison spent more than an hour at the general store, looking at table scarves and pillowcases already stamped with floral designs, ready to be filled in with colorful threads and fancy stitches. Finally settling on a table runner with bachelor’s buttons and butterflies, she spent more time deciding just which thread colors would make the prettiest combination, adding her choices to the embroidery hoop and needles already stacked on the counter. A small pair of scissors rounded out her purchases.

  “Taking up handwork, are you?” Gabe Gentry asked, as he tallied up her purchases.

  “These are for Cilla,” she told him, eyeing a bit of blue satin ribbon on a spool across the aisle. “Ellie is going to teach her to embroider.”

  “Brave soul, Ellie,” Gabe said with the roguish smile that had set many feminine hearts aflutter during his single years. Probably still did, she mused, even though he was now happily married. Not even the scar on his left cheek, the reminder of an attack by a couple of hooligans a few months ago, detracted from his looks.

  “Shall I put this on Colt’s bill, then?” he asked, stacking the items and setting them in the middle of a square of brown paper he’d ripped from a large roll.

  “Oh, no. I’m buying it for her,” Allison said. “Sort of a peace offering.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you after what those two did to you.”

  “Well, let’s just say I’m trying a new strategy, and at this point I’m not above bribery to get cooperation. Before you wrap it up, will you add a half yard of that blue satin ribbon? It will be perfect with Cilla’s dark hair and blue eyes. Oh! And some of that maple candy for Brady.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Gabe measured the ribbon and added it to the package as she’d requested. “You didn’t look for replacements for your gloves and hat.”

  “I’ll do that another day. I’d like to have my glasses back first.”

  “Good idea. They should be here soon, and I should have some new hats in at the end of the week.” Finished tying up the package, he slid it across the counter. “Who knows where this might lead for you and Colt.”

  Allison raised her eyebrows in question. “I beg your pardon.”

  “I mean you’re single and he’s single...” Gabe shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished.

  Once again, Allison experienced a sudden loss of composure. Why on earth was everyone insisting on making more of this arrangement than there was?

  “And neither of us is looking to change that,” she said in her most prudish tone. “This is about the children. Nothing more.”

  Gabe held his hands up, palms outward. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. It just seems like it would—” he shrugged “—be a good thing for you both. Rachel and I have even talked about it once or twice.”

  Allison resisted the urge to stomp her foot and scream in frustration. So now she was the topic of dinnertime conversations! Forcing civility to her voice, she said, “I appreciate that, Gabe, really, but just because you and Rachel are ridiculously in love doesn’t mean that the whole world wants the same thing.”

  “You’re right,” he said, nodding. “But I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t.”

  “I’m perfectly happy with my life. I do not need a man to feel fulfilled.”

  She imagined she saw a hint of impudence lurking in his blue eyes. “You should have quit while you were ahead,” he said, the cheeky grin reappearing.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said again.

  “Methinks you’re protesting too much, as Shakespeare would say.”

  He was right, of course. Rachel claimed that Gabe had always known how a woman’s mind worked better than any man she’d ever met. Allie took refuge in irritation. “I don’t know how Rachel tolerates you,” she said, snatching up her package.

  Still smiling, he shrugged, recognizing her response for what it was. “It’s a myste
ry to me, too.”

  She was all the way to the door when his voice stopped her.

  “You gonna pay for that?”

  Turning with a huff, she said, “Put it on my bill.”

  “You don’t have a bill,” he reminded her gently.

  “Well, then, start one!” she snapped, and whirled to leave. She turned back in the next instant, full of contrition. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I don’t know why I’m so irritable.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said in a soothing tone. “I understand perfectly.” And he did.

  * * *

  Allison spent a good part of the remainder of the morning writing letters to two of her favorite, most helpful professors, and then headed to the post office to see that they went out on the next train. Back home, she ate a light lunch, freshened up, snatched up the package, squared her shoulders and walked to Colt’s house at the edge of town, hoping Cilla and Brady would be there when she arrived.

  To her relief, Brady answered the door on her first knock. Allison smiled. “Good morning, Brady.”

  “What are you doing here?” he countered.

  Not a good beginning, she thought, smiling wider. “I’ve come to see you and Cilla and talk to you about the things your father and I discussed.”

  “He’s already told us a buncha stuff.”

  Allison suppressed the urge to sigh. “May I come in? I’ve brought you and Cilla some things from the general store.”

  “Why would you do something like that?”

  The question came from Cilla, who was crossing the parlor from the back of the small house. She paused behind her brother, a wary expression in her eyes.

  “Well,” Allie said in a reasonable tone, holding out the gift, “because you’ll need these things if you’re going to learn needlework, and I didn’t suppose you had them.” She handed Brady a small brown bag. “This is for you.”

  “Come on in,” he said, grabbing the sack with one hand and her hand in the other. Well, one of them could be bribed, anyway. Holding back from Brady, she looked at Cilla for permission.

  “Come on in.”

  “Thank you.”

  The sheriff’s house looked much as she would expect a house inhabited by a single man and two children to look. The brown sofa was worn, and the plain blue curtains were faded. All in all, it looked clean enough, just...tired. Neglected. It needed pictures on the whitewashed walls and flowers in vases, and rag rugs and crochet doilies, and a man’s boots by the door and—

  Stop it, Allison! Just because that’s what you like doesn’t mean that Colt and the kids aren’t fine with the way things are.

  Gathering herself, she asked, “May I sit down?”

  “Sure,” Brady said, his hand already deep in the paper bag. “There’s a broke spring in the divan. If you’re not careful, it’ll poke you in the behind. The rocking chair is comfortable, though.” He popped a piece of the candy into his mouth and chewed.

  “Thank you, Brady,” Allison said, settling into the chair.

  “Ugh!” he said. Allison watched wide-eyed as he ran out onto the porch and spit the candy onto the grass. He came back inside wearing a look of reproach and shoved the bag at her. “It’s maple. I hate maple.”

  “I’m sorry,” Allison said, appalled by his actions. She felt as if she’d taken one step forward and two back. “It was always a favorite of mine, and most children like pancakes with maple syrup, so I just thought— Well, never mind what I thought. What do you like? I’ll bring it next time, even though it was rude of you to reject my gift the way you did.”

  “Sorry,” he quipped. “Next time? Are you gonna make a habit of coming over?”

  It was clear that he had no notion what to think about the recent changes in the status quo. That made two of them, she thought, curbing a sigh. “I’ll come sometimes. You and Cilla are welcome at my house, too.”

  The plan must have been acceptable because he nodded his shaggy brown head. “Butterscotch.”

  “Butterscotch next time, then,” she said, summoning a slight smile. She turned her attention to Cilla, who had untied the twine around the package and spread the paper wide. “I saw the ribbon and remembered that you have a blue gingham dress. I thought the color would be pretty with your eyes and your dark hair.”

  Surprised, Cilla looked from the contents of the package to Allison, disbelief in her eyes. “It’s thread and embroidery stuff.”

  “Your father mentioned that you might like to learn, and my sister does fine needlework. She’s agreed to teach you the stitches.”

  “You don’t embroider?”

  “Actually, I do, just not very well. I always make a mess of something and have to pick it out. I can sew, though, if you’d like to learn. I have a new treadle sewing machine.”

  Afraid to give away too much of the excitement Allison saw in her eyes, Cilla said, “That might be nice. When can I start the embroidery?”

  “Ellie said for you to come over tomorrow after she closes the café.”

  “Will Bethany be there?”

  “Of course. She lives there.” For convenience sake, Ellie and Bethany lived in rooms above the eating establishment.

  “Cilla says Bethany’s a dummy,” Brady offered.

  A sharp pang of sorrow pricked Allison’s heart.

  Cilla’s face flamed red. “I did not!”

  “You said she was dumb. Same thing.”

  “Don’t quarrel,” Allison said in her best teacher voice. “Bethany is not dumb.”

  “What’s wrong with her, then?” Brady asked.

  “She was born with a learning disability.”

  “Why?”

  “No one knows why, Brady. She can learn, but what she can learn is limited, and some things will always be beyond her comprehension. But she cooks, and sews and plays the pianoforte rather well. She’s also a fairly accomplished artist.”

  “She plays the piano?” Cilla asked.

  Allison nodded. “She takes lessons from Hattie—Mrs. Carson. I think that if you got to know Bethany, you’d like her. She’s very sweet and she loves doing all the usual things young girls like.”

  Cilla looked thoughtful.

  “Your father said you might be interested in learning to play the piano,” Allison said.

  “I might,” she said with studied nonchalance.

  “Well, I spoke to Mrs. Carson and she has room for another student, but you must understand that if you agree to study under her, you must work hard. She doesn’t care much for slackers who just take up her time.”

  The sound of boots on the porch snagged everyone’s attention. The screen door swung open, and Colt filled the aperture. The sunlight at his back glinted gold on his streaky hair, creating a portrait of masculine planes and shadows of his face. Standing there with his feet spread apart as if he were bracing for a storm, his broad shoulders filling the doorway and an unreadable expression in his eyes, he looked more than a little dangerous and very exciting.

  His posture relaxed when he saw there were no fireworks going off in the room.

  “Hello, Miss Grainger.”

  The sound of his deep voice speaking her name sent her surging to her feet, her reticule in one hand and the sack of maple candy in the other.

  “H-hello,” she said. “I, uh, brought some things over for the children. I was just about to go.” Was her voice as breathless as it sounded?

  “Don’t let me run you off. We’d be glad to share our lunch with you.”

  “No, thank you. I ate before I came, and I didn’t intend to stay long.” She turned to Brady. “Brady, I’m sorry I made you angry when I said I was disappointed in you. The fact that you can’t read as well as I would like is disappointing, but only because I know that school will be much easier if we can figure
out what the problem is and fix it. I get disappointed in myself, too, because I can’t seem to help you. What makes me disappointed in you is when you don’t give me your best effort. Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” he told her after a moment’s thought.

  “I know you don’t like doing schoolwork while you’re supposed to be out of school, but I’m going to work hard the rest of the summer, too, to try to find a way to make things easier for you. Is that fair? That we both work even though it’s break time?”

  He shot a glance at his father. “I suppose so.”

  “Good.” Allison looked at Cilla, who had been watching the exchange and weighing every word.

  “Would you like for me to come and walk you to Ellie’s tomorrow evening?” Allison asked.

  “No, ma’am. I’ll go by myself. Brady and I are helping out at the mercantile.” She shot her father a dark look. “I’ll walk over from there.”

  “Fine, then.” She gave the child an encouraging smile, hoping she didn’t look too cheerful. “Good luck. When you decide about the piano lessons, let me know and I’ll set things up with Mrs. Carson.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be doing the lessons,” Cilla said, “since I don’t have a piano to practice on.”

  “You’re welcome to come to my house whenever you like.”

  Cilla considered that. “I’ll think about it,” she said with an indifferent shrug.

  “Well, goodbye,” Allison said. “I’ll see you soon.”

  She headed for the door and paused when it became obvious that she would have to step very close to Colt to make her exit.

  “I’ll walk out with you,” he said, stepping aside and pushing the screen door open for her to precede him.

  “Cilla, will you go warm up those peas while I walk Miss Grainger out?”

  “I already did.”

  “Then set the table, please. Brady, help your sister.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

  Colt followed Allison onto the porch. “Let me repay you for whatever you bought for Cilla.”