by Linda Ford
But if he’d been in Abe’s shoes, he would have no regard for what people might say or think or how they would judge. He would sit proudly by her side, cherishing each moment of her company.
He wouldn’t care about others. The truth of what that meant ached through him. More proof of how Abe was the perfect man for Sally.
And Linc McCoy didn’t belong in the same league.
Thankfully the pastor rose and opened the service before Linc felt sorrier for himself.
The text for the sermon was Jeremiah chapter thirty-two, verse seventeen. The pastor read it in a strong deep voice. “‘Ah, Lord God! Behold thou hast made the Heaven and the earth by thy great power and stretched out arm, and there is nothing too hard for thee.’” The scripture verse and the pastor’s wise words were exactly what Linc needed for the day. For the week. Perhaps for many weeks and months and years. Whatever he must do, God would provide the strength he needed.
When the service ended, he took his time exiting the pew. Perhaps by delaying, he could avoid Sally and especially her mother’s demanding look. He offered his arm to his grandmother and guided her down the aisle.
Sally and her mother were gone, but his chest refused to relax and allow him to breathe easy.
Many people greeted Grandmama. Some included him. Others avoided them. Linc clamped his teeth tight at how obvious they were. Grandmama would be hurt by their behavior. He wanted to rush her home, pack his pa across a horse and ride away rather than see his grandmother treated so poorly. But of course, escape wasn’t possible. Not as long as Pa was mending. Or dying. He hated to admit the latter.
They stepped into the sunshine. The pastor waited at the door to shake their hands. At least he didn’t shun them.
Linc’s intention was to leave as fast as he could. Get back to his grandmother’s home and his pa—his only reason for being here.
But Sally stood in the yard, surrounded by a knot of people. They all watched him. Were they waiting for him? He hesitated. Were they about to run him out of town?
Well, they could try, but he didn’t intend to go anywhere until he was good and ready.
He descended the steps, Grandmama at his side.
Sally waited for them to draw near then called him. “Linc, come and meet my sister and her husband. And Mother.” She introduced them. “Mother, Judd and Madge.” One by one they greeted him. “I spoke to Matron about our idea of a party. She loves it.”
“It’s a wonderful gesture on your part,” Judd said. “I understand you want to make some little toys. I have extra lumber you can use, and my barn is available if you need a place to work.”
Linc allowed himself the briefest glance at Sally. Her eyes glowed with eagerness. Was it because her family supported their idea? Or was she anticipating time together, as was he? Aware of Mrs. Morgan’s watchful eye, he kept his expression as bland as he could. “That sounds like a great idea. When can I have a look?”
“No time like the present,” Judd said.
“Why don’t you join us for lunch?” Madge added.
Linc tried to fathom if they meant Sally, too. Did they mean to encourage his wayward thoughts? “I have to take care of my pa, but perhaps later this afternoon if that’s convenient?”
“That would be great. We’ll see you later then.” Judd and Madge moved on.
That left him and Grandmama alone with Sally and Mrs. Morgan.
Thankfully, Grandmama took Mrs. Morgan’s arm. “Shall we visit the cemetery?” Grandpa was buried there. ’Peared Mr. Morgan was, as well.
Mrs. Morgan’s glance at her daughter was unmistakably warning.
Linc waited until the two older women moved away before he spoke. “Does your mother disapprove of me?”
Pink stained Sally’s cheeks, and she shifted so he couldn’t see her expression. “She worries.”
About what? But he couldn’t voice the question. Didn’t want the answer because she no doubt worried that Linc’s reputation—the reputation hung on him by his last name—would somehow dirty her daughter. “No need. Assure her we are only concerned with giving the orphanage kids a fun party.” He hoped Sally believed him.
He certainly didn’t. In fact, it was time he analyzed his feelings. He’d like to ask Sally about hers as well, but wondered if the time for that would ever come.
Chapter Ten
Linc spent two hours with Pa and then headed for the farm where Judd and Madge lived. He was familiar with the Cotton farm and knew it was close to the Morgan place. When he reached the driveway, he paused to look toward Sally’s house. Would she come over? She hadn’t said anything after church. Would she realize they needed to discuss plans for the toys? But he understood why she might stay away. He was a McCoy, and even if he’d been someone else, she made her intentions clear—to marry Abe Finley and enjoy the sort of life he could promise.
Sighing reluctant acceptance, he reined Big Red toward the house.
Judd stepped out as he approached the house. “You like to ride?” He silently admired Linc’s horse.
“Prefer it to a motor vehicle.” He saw the shiny car by the house. “No criticism meant.”
“None taken. I like a good mount, as well. Trouble is it’s hard to find decent feed. Hard to pay for gas, too. So mostly we walk, unless we’ve got a distance to go. Swing down. There’s some sprouts of grass over there your horse can nibble at.” He waved toward the corner of the yard.
Linc dismounted in the indicated spot and let the reins dangle to the ground. Red would graze contentedly until Linc called.
Judd followed him. “It’s really a fine idea to help the orphanage out this way, you know. Anything I can do?”
“You’ve offered your barn and the needed wood.”
“I’d like to do more if it’s possible.”
Linc grinned. “You want to lead a little pony around?”
Judd grimaced. “A spoiled pony?”
“Yup.” His smile widened at the look on Judd’s face. “They don’t bite…often.”
“Thanks for the reassurance. Sure, I’ll help.”
“Great. I thought of getting at least four ponies, maybe more. The man I know has a dozen, but we won’t need that many. However, I need someone to lead each pony so I guess the number I get depends on the amount of help I get.”
“Madge would help.”
Linc swallowed back a protest. He’d thought of men to do the job.
Judd read his thoughts. “Don’t underestimate Madge. She’s pretty strong.” He chuckled. “And please don’t hint that you don’t think she could do the job because she isn’t a man. I would have to spend the next five years listening to her grouse about it.”
“My lips are sealed.” Linc raised a hand, as if vowing in a court of law. “You’re sure she’d do it?”
“Ask her yourself.” They headed toward the house—a sturdy home built to last. The barn was a solid structure, too. He remembered when the former owners, the Cottons, had built it. Although now weathered from the elements, with the paint sanded away by the continual battering of the dusty air, the place was full of promise and possibility.
He turned his gaze from studying the surroundings to the house and almost stumbled. Sally stood beside Madge, her expression a little guarded, a little wary and—he let himself believe—a touch hopeful. He swallowed hard, but it did nothing to push away the lump forming in his throat. The sun peeked around the corner of the house and highlighted her features. She was beautiful. She was lovely.
And she was spoken for.
He tried again to swallow back the thickness, and again failed.
“Sally came for dinner. She thought she should stay and help you pick out pieces of wood for the dolls. She said something about a dollhouse, too.” Judd rambled on about the wood he had and suggestions as to what they should use.
Linc heard his voice, but his words were lost in the tangle of his thoughts. He hoped she’d be here but hadn’t expected it. Her presence caught him off guard. He fough
t for control. Sanity. Reason. They were both here for only one reason—build toys for the orphanage. Nothing more. Nothing at all. Though he regretted it with an ache that yawned past the horizon and out of sight.
Slowly his thoughts righted themselves. By the time they were close enough to speak, he hoped he could do so without revealing any of his confusion.
Judd pulled Madge to his side. “Linc needs people to lead the ponies around for the party. You want to help, Madge?”
“I’d love to.”
“Thanks,” Linc said. His voice sounded calm and steady. “The more help we have, the more ponies I can bring.”
“I could take care of a pony, too,” Sally offered.
Linc hesitated. “Someone needs to supervise the games and keep the children in order. Like you did at Robbie’s party.” Mentioning the boy—Abe’s son—was a needed reminder to himself of where Sally belonged and where Linc fit into this scheme—the provider of ponies, the builder of toys. His mind said it was okay.
Too bad his heart didn’t believe it.
“Let’s have a look in the barn.” Judd pulled Madge’s arm through his and smiled down at her as he led them away.
Linc waited for Sally and fell in at her side, keeping a discreet and safe six inches between them.
The barn smelled of sweet hay, musky mushroom, dank animal droppings—the scent of a barn used often for the purpose intended.
Judd directed them toward the far corner and a neat stack of lumber. “The previous owners left it. Most of it is too small to be of use, but will be suitable for toys.” He shoved a square tub toward Linc. “You should find something in here for the dolls and cars.” He pushed aside some other pieces. “Give me a hand here.”
Linc sprang forward and helped lift out some larger pieces.
“These will be great for the dollhouse.”
They leaned the pieces against the opposite wall, and he stepped back to study the wood. Sally edged forward at the same time, and they bumped into each other.
He jerked forward, almost planting a foot in the tub of wood and making a spectacle of himself. He caught his balance, ignored the pain in his shin from his encounter with the metal tub and crossed his arms over his chest, hoping to signify to everyone he was completely in charge of both his body and his emotions.
Sally seemed not to notice and bent to sort through the pieces of wood.
He shuffled back, but the wall crowded him. Judd and Madge blocked the alleyway. The air in the corner was hot, depleted of oxygen, and he began to sweat.
Sally pulled out several pieces of wood, lined them up on the ground and sat back on her heels to study them. “Why don’t we make them in different sizes, just like the children? Let’s make a mother and father, too.”
Madge knelt beside her. “Sally, you always have the best ideas.”
Judd joined the girls. Linc stayed apart, arms still across his chest.
Sally glanced up at him. “What do you think, Linc?”
He shifted his gaze to the pieces of wood. He folded his tight knees and crouched beside Sally, the only place there was room. He tried to keep his distance but she reached into the tub, her elbow brushing his arm. His thoughts stalled. He couldn’t breathe. It was much too hot and closed in. But when he told himself to get up and leave, his muscles refused to move.
Sally lined up the assorted pieces before him, each time her arm brushing his. “What do you think? Can we make a family of dolls from this?”
The words zinged through his mind, demanding an answer. He fished around until he could solidify a thought. “No reason why not.”
“Feel free to work here,” Judd said. “It’ll save you hauling stuff back and forth.”
They spent several minutes examining wood, choosing some for cars and trucks, some more for the dollhouse. Everyone contributed suggestions. They moved away from the lumber and moseyed toward the door, giving Linc breathing space.
“I’m going to make tea. Come along when you want a break.” Madge headed for the house.
“I’ll help.” Judd jogged after her.
Sally remained, leaning against one side of the door, smiling as she studied the horizon. “This is going to be so much fun.”
Linc pressed his shoulder to the opposite side of the doorway, the warm wood scratching through his shirt. He would have a mark on his skin, but he welcomed the pressure and the pain. Did she mean fun to work with him? Or simply fun to make toys for the children? The latter, of course. He knew that was it, but he could not persuade his mind to think along the same lines.
She shifted, favored him with a questioning look that sucked the air from his lungs. “You’re certain your grandmother won’t mind us using her paint?”
He’d offered to bring half-used cans from Grandmama’s basement. “I’m sure.” His voice grated. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s leftover stuff. Likely most of it will be useless, but we’ll find enough to paint the toys.”
Her eyes gleamed with what he took for excitement. “Are you looking forward to doing this?”
“Like you said, it’s going to be fun.” He didn’t mean only because they were doing something for the kids. To stall his thoughts before they went any further, he casually mentioned something that had been forming in his mind over the past hour or two. “I think I’ll tear down Grandmama’s old corrals. She’s been after me to do so. With half a dozen ponies to take care of, I need something better. I figure I can salvage enough from the old ones to build something smaller and more solid.” He knew he rambled. But talk was his biggest defense. Talk and distance, which right now he didn’t seem capable of finding.
“How’s your pa?”
“The same. Sometimes I think he’s improving. Doc says not to get my hopes up.”
“I’m sorry.” She touched his forearm with her long, slender fingers. How did she remain so cool when his skin fairly beaded with sweat?
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Her question, her concern sliced through his defenses, laid his heart open and vulnerable. For one sweet flicker of time he let himself think of taking comfort in her arms, pressing her head against his neck, leaning his chin against her hair.
It could not be, and he fought for reason. Slowly it returned, full of acid regret that Abe could offer her the things she wanted and he, Linc McCoy, could not. “Not much anyone can do, but thanks for offering.”
She withdrew her hand, leaving him suddenly cold, his sweat icy on his skin.
“I was surprised you didn’t sit with Abe at church.”
Her shoulders twitched. When she faced him, her eyes had lost their happy sparkle. He had effectively reminded her of who they were and what the future held, even as she had by asking him about Pa, reminding him of who he was. “Why?”
“Isn’t that where you belong?”
She lowered her gaze. “Not yet.”
Did he detect regret? He half reached for her, wanting to tip her chin up so he could see her eyes, gauge her emotions.
“Come on, you two. Tea is ready and waiting.” Judd’s invitation jerked them both toward the house.
Linc was grateful Judd called before he did or said anything foolish. At the same time, he wondered why the man couldn’t have waited a few more minutes.
Sally hugged her arms about her and smiled up into the crystal clear sky as she walked across the field the next evening. It was still full daylight out, and she was grateful for a few more hours of sunlight.
She likely should be scowling at the empty sky. The country desperately needed rain. But she couldn’t bring herself to worry about drought and hardship at the moment.
The sun poured gold into the colorless grass left over from winter. The strong light gave the budding trees a green shimmer. Spring filled the world with hope and joy. And in no place more so than her heart.
She and Linc had agreed to meet after supper and work for a few hours on toys, and Sally skipped toward Madge and Judd’s place, rejoicing
in the beauty of the season and all the good things in her life. Now she was about to share them with the children at the orphanage.
Her steps slowed, and she faced her thoughts honestly.
It wasn’t the children filling her mind with such anticipation, but rather, the idea of an hour or two with Linc.
She stopped walking and forced her emotions under control. This was about a party for the orphans. She and Linc only shared the task of preparing for it.
Her thoughts firmly reined in, she resumed her journey, but by the time she reached the boundary of Madge’s yard, her joy and her spritely step matched the sun for intensity as she headed directly for the barn.
The interior was dim and still, heat wafting from the corners.
“Hi, there,” Linc called from the back. “Glad to see you made it.”
“Was it ever in question?”
He didn’t answer, and she made her way to the stack of lumber. He sat back on his heels watching her, his expression a combination of welcome and wariness. As if he wondered if she would suddenly realize how dangerous it was for her to agree to work with him, and might change her mind.
She wished she could erase his doubts. He was a good man and he needed to believe it, even if no one else did.
She did. But she dare not tell him. “I said I’d come and here I am.” It was all she could offer.
“Great.” He jumped to his feet. “Let’s take this lot outside.” He indicated the pieces of wood she had lined up yesterday. “I’ll cut out the shapes.”
“I’ll sand them. Did you bring paint?”
He pointed toward an odd assortment of cans, and she squatted to examine them. From the drips on the dusty cans she saw there were several colors—green, black, pink and mauve.
“This should do nicely.”
“Yep. I thought I would paint the cars and trucks that very girly pink.”
His dry tone drew her eyes to his face. Slowly she pushed to her feet and grinned at his mock sorrow. Found she couldn’t escape his dark eyes, didn’t want to as the look went on and on. With a guilty jolt she realized she had lost all sense of time, space and decency, and lowered her gaze. Had she imagined the moment? She stole another look. No. She had not. His eyes brimmed with a warmth she couldn’t deny.