Wolf Creek Father (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 3)

by Penny Richards

  Like the rest of his house, Colt’s kitchen was worn, but cleaner than she’d dared to expect. She’d heard from Gabe that most of the cleaning was done by Cilla, and complimented the child on a job well done. Cilla glowed under the praise.

  The meal went well. As usual, Ellie had outdone herself with the ham sandwiches, slathering the soft crusty bread with her special mayonnaise and adding thick slices of cheese, fresh tomato and lettuce. Colt declared that the addition of the pickles Allison had brought made the sandwiches perfect. As predicted by both Gabe and Mrs. VanSickle, the crispy fried potato chips were a hit with everyone, and with the cold sarsaparilla to wash it all down, the casual meal was fit for a king.

  Allison couldn’t say when she’d enjoyed a supper more, but was struck by the bittersweet realization that it had as much to do with the people she shared it with as it did with the simple, filling fare. She must take care not to allow her emotions to become too involved with the Garretts, since the arrangement was only temporary.

  When they’d finished eating and her hosts had cleared the table, Colt told Allison that she should probably soak her foot in some Epsom salts.

  “That’s a good idea,” she said, rising.

  “I didn’t mean right now,” he said. “I’m not trying to run you off. It was just a suggestion.”

  “Oh. Well, I should be going anyway. It’ll take me a while to hobble home.”

  “I’m taking you home,” he told her. “No arguments. I should have come and picked you up.”

  “Brady and I will pick up all the balls and wickets and stuff while you’re gone,” Cilla offered.

  Colt regarded his firstborn with a look that could only be described as “stunned.” Wearing a frown of bewilderment, he mumbled something about appreciating the help.

  Allison visited with the children while he hooked up the wagon. She was standing there, wondering how on earth she was supposed to get up into it with the skirt she was wearing and a sore foot, when Colt climbed down, rounded the rig, picked her up and set her on the seat. It was done so fast that she was seated before she could do more than open her mouth to object. Climbing in beside her, he clucked to the horse, and they were off down the street.

  Neither spoke much along the way. Allison sneaked a peek at his profile, and thought for perhaps the hundredth time what an attractive man he was. As she was staring at him, he turned to look at her and smiled that lazy half smile. Her heart melted and she felt a tremulous smile curve her own lips.

  “Thanks for joining us,” he told her.

  “I enjoyed it.”

  “The pie was delicious. You’ve been holding out on everyone.”

  She gave him a questioning look.

  “Everyone thinks Ellie’s the cook of the family. They don’t know you’re as good as she is.”

  “Well, we were brought up by the same mother,” she said. “And really, she’s much better with a lot of things than I am.”

  “Time will tell.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She wasn’t aware she’d spoken the question aloud until he said, “We only have a certain amount of time to work miracles with my kids, so it only stands to reason that we’ll be spending a good deal of it with each other, don’t you think?”

  “Oh. Of course.” A heady thought, to be sure.

  “And I think it’s fair to say that some of that time will be spent eating together.”

  “Oh,” she said again and could have died of mortification that she was unable to come up with some sort of teasing, scintillating answer. No wonder she couldn’t hold a man’s interest.

  They reached her house far too soon, yet not soon enough. Once again, Colt got down from the rig to help her alight. This time, he slipped his arm around her to steady her as she limped toward the house.

  “You don’t have to hold on to me.”

  “I think I do.”

  Something in the tone of his voice sent her gaze winging to his. There was a look in his eyes she couldn’t name, but it sent a shivery feeling tripping down her spine. Suddenly edgy and a little irritated with herself for her reaction to his nearness, she hurried toward the porch. This time he let her go.

  At the door, Allison turned, her hand resting on the doorknob. He was standing in a familiar pose—thumbs hooked through his belt loops, his weight shifted to one leg. From where she stood, his shoulders looked impossibly broad.

  “I enjoyed the evening. Thank you for asking me to join you.” Her tone of voice told her that the prim-and-proper teacher was back. Thank goodness. There was no sense wishing for impossible dreams.

  “While you were hitching up the wagon, I was talking with Cilla and Brady about church. I was wondering if it would be all right if I take them with me on Sunday. They seemed a bit skeptical, but when I told them Danny and Ben and some of their other friends would be there, they said they might like to go, if you have no objections.”

  “No,” he told her, looking at her strangely. “No objections.”

  “Thank you. I really think it will be good for them, and it’s another way for them to be included in some activities. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “No, thanks.” He turned and headed toward the wagon. Settled on the seat, he said, “Either the kids or I will bring the pie tin by when we finish with it.”

  Even though she knew they would be seeing a lot of each other, the moment felt oddly like goodbye. “That’s fine. And I’ll be sure and let you know as soon as I hear from my professors. Oh! And remind Cilla that she’s welcome to come and practice her piano anytime.”

  “I will. Don’t forget to doctor your foot.”

  “I won’t. Good night.”

  “’Night, Allie.”

  She watched as he turned around in the middle of the deserted street. When he was nothing but a speck in the distance, she went inside and straight to the bedroom mirror.

  She hardly recognized the stranger staring back at her. This was not the tidy, genteel Miss Grainger. The ribbon holding her hair in place was gone, stuffed into the pocket of her skirt. This woman’s hair was an untidy jumble of red curls. Allison threaded her fingers through the heavy tresses and lifted it away from her hot neck, noticing that her face was flushed. From playing croquet in the late-afternoon sun, or from knowing that her actions at Colt’s bordered on improper?

  She let the hair fall and pressed her hands to her cheeks. Good heavens! Had she really taken off her shoes? Never mind that she’d always played the game shoeless. This was different. She wasn’t playing with family. She’d been playing with a single male and his children, a man who was little more than a stranger. And she’d allowed him to handle her bare foot! What a scandal that would be if word got out!

  With a little cry of distress, Allison turned from the mirror. No more! It was silly of her to let her emotions run amok just because she’d spent a couple of pleasant hours with the Garretts. Today was just an unusual contradiction to the status quo. Everyone was being nice, putting their best foot forward. Why, even the children had been as close to angels as they were ever likely to be.

  Usually, she and Colt were at each other’s throats. Natural enemies, so to speak. She might find him attractive, but he was the single man about town who could have anyone he wanted. And he would never want her. Even if by some miracle he did, he was not the kind of man she was looking for. Why, he was still blaming God for Patrice’s death! Allison was looking for a man willing to lead his family to Heaven. She was afraid to settle for less, even if it meant she went to the grave a spinster schoolteacher.

  Satisfied that she had things in proper perspective, she began to unbutton her blouse, praying her thoughts would not keep her awake.

  * * *

  While Colt was driving Allison home, Cilla and Brady gathered the croquet pieces. Her dad had seemed su
rprised but pleased that she’d offered to put the game away, and she liked that she’d pleased him for a change.

  “She’s really not so bad, is she?” Cilla asked, putting the last mallet into the holder.

  “Who? Miss Grainger?”

  “Of course I mean Miss Grainger. I think we’ve misjudged her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know how Mr. Gentry puts up a new scripture every day or so? Well, today it said that we would be judged by the way we judge other people, and after seeing how nice she’s been since we were so terrible to her, I think we may have been wrong about her. I think she does care about her students and that it really does bother her when she feels like she hasn’t done a good job.”

  Brady frowned, thinking hard. “She has been pretty nice to us,” he agreed. “Well, to you, anyway. Not many people would have bought you those embroidery things, or talked to Mrs. Carson about piano lessons and stuff.”

  “She brought you books,” Cilla reminded him.

  Brady’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I hate to read. Do you think I’ll ever be able to read like you?”

  “I don’t know,” she told him, “but it seems to me that Miss Grainger really is trying to help.”

  “I guess so,” Brady acknowledged with a nod. “And Pa is gonna have Ace teach me to shoot a bow and arrow and he’s buying me a harmonica, so I can learn to play.”

  “The idea of finding something you’d like to do was Miss Grainger’s idea,” Cilla remarked. When he didn’t reply, she said, “I think she’s the one, Brady.”

  He scowled again. “The one what?”

  “The one to be our stepmother.”

  “Are you crazy?” Brady stormed.

  “Think about it. That list we saw in Pa’s desk drawer was a list of women he was considering. So far, we’ve stopped him from marrying any of them, but he’s told us he’s going to marry someone someday whether we like it or not, and that list proves he’s getting serious.”

  “Yeah,” Brady said. “It’s only a matter of time.” He darted a glance at his sister as they went back inside and into the kitchen. “I think you’re right about her being the best one in town, but what if Pa doesn’t?”

  “She was on the list, wasn’t she?”

  “Yeah, but so were a lot of others.”

  “Yes, but Miss Grainger’s name wasn’t scratched out like the others, so she must be the one he likes the best.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes. And didn’t you see the way she looked at him while we were playing croquet? She likes him.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Her eyes got all soft and dreamy.”

  “She looks like that all the time without her glasses,” Brady scoffed.

  “This is different. Pa was really having a good time, too. I haven’t heard him laugh so much in...in I can’t remember when, but it’s been a long time. I’m sure he likes her, too.”

  “So you think she would be a good stepmother.”

  “Yes.” Cilla ticked off reasons on her fingers. “First, she’s the best he’s come up with so far. A lot better than any of those other ladies on his list. Second, it would be really handy to have a teacher in the family, when our lessons get too hard. Third, I think she likes children, so I don’t think she’d be mean to us. Fourth...” Cilla paused, thinking.

  “She makes really good chocolate pie,” Brady offered.

  “Yes, she does, so—”

  “But she’s a teacher, not a mother.”

  “Ben’s mother was a teacher before she got married. A lot of women are,” Cilla explained with the wisdom of a twelve-year-old.

  “Okay,” Brady said, nodding. “So we’re going to leave Pa alone while he courts Miss Grainger. We’re not going to try to drive them apart. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Not exactly.” Cilla looked thoughtful. “Pa told us that courting is a time that two people see if they have things in common and if they like each other enough to get married. We need to try to do everything we can to get them together, because if he doesn’t marry her, no telling who else might come into the picture. Mrs. Forrester’s name was on the list, and she’s got a house full of kids. I’d wind up being a babysitter for the bunch,” she said in disgust.

  Brady’s eyes grew wide. “Yeah, and Johnny Forrester is a really mean kid. I’d rather have a new baby brother than Johnny.”

  They stared at each other for long seconds.

  “Right,” Cilla said, but she didn’t look convinced.

  Brady hung the dish towel on the edge of the kitchen cabinet. “Do you think we should tell him?”

  * * *

  Colt was about to step onto the back porch when he heard Brady’s question. The uneasiness in his son’s voice told Colt that something was up. Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the porch and pulled open the door.

  “Tell me what?”

  Chapter Seven

  Cilla cast her brother a troubled look. Colt could almost see the gears in her mind turning.

  Before she could formulate an answer, Brady piped up. “We’ve decided that we really like Miss Grainger’s ideas for us, and we thought she was a lot of fun this evening. Cilla and I were thinking that we should tell her that we’re glad we’ll be spending more time with her.”

  “Yeah,” Cilla said, relief mirrored in her eyes. “Yeah. That’s it.”

  Something wasn’t right. On the surface, Brady’s answer made sense, but the way he wouldn’t quite meet Colt’s eyes made him doubt the boy’s sincerity. In fact, they both looked too guilty for it to be the whole truth. Just days ago, they were attacking the woman in public, and now they wanted to spend more time with her? He’d had a good time with Allison, too, but was one evening of fun enough to make this much difference in how they felt? It made no sense, unless the two little culprits had something up their sleeves they weren’t sharing.

  “Family powwow or can anyone join?”

  The words were spoken in a familiar, deep voice. Colt turned to see Ace standing on the other side of the screen. A slight, rare smile and the amusement in the ice-blue eyes he’d inherited from his Irish father softened the harsh angles of his face. Those eyes looked out of place with the swarthy skin, jet-black hair and Indian features passed down from his mother.

  Colt knew firsthand that those eyes were usually devoid of emotion, a skill Ace had perfected through the years to hide his feelings. Usually, but not now.

  “Ace!” Colt said, shoving Brady’s statement to the back of his mind and motioning for his friend to enter.

  Once he was inside, the two men shook hands and Colt pulled Ace into one of those awkward, back-slapping man hugs that lasted no more than a second.

  “I heard you were looking for me.”

  “Yeah. Brady has decided that he wants to learn to shoot a bow, and I figured there was no one around more qualified to teach him than you.”

  Ace shook his head. “I hardly ever shoot a bow anymore. I’m a modern man, you know. I like my rifle.”

  Colt chuckled. “Maybe so, but you’ve forgotten more than anyone in these parts ever knew. I’d be much obliged if you’d tutor him.”

  “I’d be glad to. It will do me good to brush up on my own bow skills.” He looked at the boy. “When do you want to start?”

  Brady’s smile was a mile wide. “Whenever you want to.”

  “How about tomorrow morning? About seven? We’ll get some time in before it gets too hot.”

  “Great!” Brady said.

  “I think my mother still has the bow I used as a kid stuck back somewhere. It should be a good fit.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  That settled, Colt told the kids to carry the croquet set inside. When they’d di
sappeared through the back door, Ace took a chair at the kitchen table, then fixed a considering look on his friend. “So what’s this about you all spending time with Allison Grainger?”

  Colt joined his friend and angled his head toward the door the children had just passed through.

  He caught up his friend on his argument with Allie, the mayor’s ultimatum and Allie’s suggestions about how to fix the problem. “Now, since she offered to let Cilla practice the piano at her house and suggested some things to help Brady come out of his shell, and came over for a game of croquet, all of a sudden she’s their best friend,” Colt muttered. “Something’s up.”

  “She’s a fantastic woman. You could do a lot worse than spend time with her.”

  “Why do I sense there’s more behind that statement than what I hear? You wouldn’t be suggesting that I...court her, would you?”

  “Why not? The kids like her and that’s half the battle, isn’t it?”

  “She’s not my type.”

  “Oh. I see,” Ace said with a sage nod. “You’re looking for something besides a woman who’s good to the bone, sweet as honey, smart as a whip and pretty as a picture.”

  “Got any other old chestnuts for me?” Colt mocked.

  “I’m sure there are some, but they escape me at the moment. The thing is, my friend, they’re all true. She’d be a good catch for any man with enough sense to look hard enough.”

  “I always thought Ellie was the pretty one.”

  “And since when did you become the kind of man who’s swayed by a pretty face?”

  “Every man likes to think his woman is attractive, don’t you think?”

  “What one man finds attractive, another might not,” Ace said cryptically, “and we both know that a pretty face can hide an ugly soul. As for Ellie, she’s definitely a lovely woman, but Allison is, too. It’s just that her unusual coloring makes her stand out. Redheads are few and far between. Have you ever seen her smile?”