She blinked in astonishment. He’d shared a snippet of his past with her and his tone still sounded teasing and light-hearted and— Could he be flirting with her? She held her breath, waiting for him to say more.
“Can we continue this inside?” Gus grumbled. “It’s cold out here. Not to mention Birdie would like her breakfast ’n I need my coffee.”
She was only hungry for what Jack might say next.
He straightened to his full height and stepped aside so they could enter. The increase in the distance between them had her battling another sigh—this one of disappointment.
“The stove’s nice and hot,” Jack said. “Have a seat there and I’ll serve you breakfast.”
Courteous but not overly romantic. Still, the day was young. They had hours to talk.
When they were all inside, Jack gestured to the corner where a long wooden stick covered in carvings rested. “If you had to go out, Grandpa, why didn’t you at least take your walking stick?”
Gus rolled his eyes. “’Cause I forgot ’n you didn’t remind me earlier.”
“What an interesting creation,” Birdie remarked, trying to derail another argument. “Who made it?”
Gus raised his chin proudly. “We both did. Jack found the perfect branch ’n I used it to practice the carving Kyi-yee taught me.”
Before she could ask who owned such a unique name, Jack’s gaze fixed on the parcel in her arms. “Did you finish making your friend’s dress?”
His question veered her course from the stove to the gap in the counter and through to her work area. Her doubts about her newest creation grew. She fought the urge to hide the parcel and its contents. Too late.
Why had Jack commented on it within seconds of noticing it? Why couldn’t he have said something just as early yesterday about her bird-patterned dress?
She set the parcel on the counter and summoned her mantra: answer, avoid, ask another question. “I was distracted last night and sewed…something else. I’ll have to start a new dress today. Did you sleep well last night?”
“No, I was distracted as well.”
“By?” She tried not to stare at him too eagerly.
“Dreams.”
Gus coughed and at the same time muttered what she was now sure was “manners.”
Jack crossed to stand with only the counter between them. “Can I take your coat and hang it up for you?”
Her face heated both from his request and from continuing to wear her coat in the warm room. Jack had really stoked the fires today. He’d made her breakfast. He’d shared a story from his youth. He’d mentioned dreams. Above all, he was being exceedingly kind.
She pushed the hood from her head, but stopped there. Maybe she could keep her coat on all day and hide what lay beneath it. Or maybe Jack wouldn’t comment on anything she wore or didn’t wear today. Would that be any better? She craved his attention, his compliments. Maybe—
Mon Dieu! When had she become such an indecisive little mouse?
She raised her chin, removed her coat, and handed the garment to Jack. She also said what she hoped was a composed sounding, “Thank you.” Then she took hold of the parcel waiting on the counter and forced herself to continue speaking. “I made curtains last night. With your permission, I’d like to hang them in your office.”
“You don’t have to ask. You can do whatever you like. As I said yesterday, this is your home now.”
And still he made no mention of exchanging marriage vows. Instead he retrieved a stepladder from between two stacks of freight.
Yesterday, Felicity had married Reverend Hammond in a ceremony as surprising as it was joyful. Not to mention timely. A traveling judge had been in Noelle at the perfect moment to marry the eager pair.
Ils ont de la chance! Maybe their luck and happiness would flow her way today.
Jack cleared his throat, knocking her out of her hopeful musings. “I’ll help you hang your curtains, if you like.”
“That would be lovely.” She opened the wrapping, draped the pleated panels over her arm, and joined him by the windows. “But we won’t need a ladder for this.” She tapped the wall directly below the glass. “Please put the top of the fabric here.”
A furrow creased Jack’s brow. “Seems like an odd place to hang a curtain. Don’t they usually go over windows instead of under them?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps curtain is the wrong word. If I can’t see out a window, I’d at least like to look at something colorful below the glass.”
“Hellfire, I never thought about—”
“Language,” Gus muttered.
Jack scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry for my cussing and my lack of foresight. Thought I was a better carpenter than this.” He hung her curtains swiftly and exactly in the place she’d requested. When he stepped back to check his work, he sucked in a startled breath. “This is—” He reached for the fabric again but stopped short as if afraid to touch it now. “This was the dress you wore yesterday.”
She attempted to keep her voice nonchalant as she said, “Some creations don’t work out.”
“Just like some days.” He let his hand fall to his side. “I need to visit Sheriff Draven today.”
She couldn’t stifle her gasp.
Worry furrowed his brow as he spun to face her. “As I said previously, it’s nothing to be concerned about. I should’ve gone yesterday, but I didn’t want to,” he lowered his voice, “leave Gus alone.” His voice rose to its usual volume but his expression remained uncertain when he asked, “Will you both stay here until I return?”
Her heartbeat had slowed to a bearable rate, but her chest ached with the growing possibility that she was falling into the role of caretaker rather than a wife. It would be a pleasure to spend more time with Gus, but after meeting Jack she wanted more.
So much more. A more she feared she’d never have with him—even if her luck held for the next few minutes and he wasn’t visiting Draven to discuss her.
“Of course I’m staying here,” Gus said. “Where else would I go?”
A long list of possibilties unrolled in Birdie’s thoughts.
Jack released a long-suffering sigh. When she remained silent, he leaned toward her. “Birdie, I need your help. I can’t do this without you.”
“Then I guess I’ll be staying as well, but only until you return.” She’d also be keeping the ladder by the window so she could stand on it and see the street. And she’d be sprinting out the back door if she saw Jack returning with the sheriff by his side.
CHAPTER 8
Carrying two packages of food, Jack strode down the street, hardly limping. Not having to run or even rush had allowed him to gradually loosen up his body. Knowing that Birdie was watching his grandfather, and Gus was watching his bride, had allowed him to do what he should’ve done yesterday.
Maybe he could finally catch up and not be a step behind where he needed to be.
He’d reported the missing items to Draven along with his suspicion that Gus had done the misplacing. Then he’d gone to talk to Doc Deane about Gus. The doctor had reminded him of the importance of food and sleep. He couldn’t control Gus’ sleeping patterns but he could make sure both Gus and Birdie never went hungry.
So he’d crossed the street and entered Cobb’s Penn. Liam Fulton had been absent but his dry goods store had been in good hands. A whirlwind named Avis Smith had sold him every item on his list in a manner so swift she’d made his head spin. Despite the young woman’s brisk to the point of frosty manner, he’d thanked her and said Liam was lucky to have her in his life.
She’d given him a look he couldn’t decipher and started rearranging a shelf of food tins. He’d meant what he’d said. He hadn’t a clue how she’d managed to find anything in the cluttered store.
She must be one of the brides, but how had she ended up with Liam? When they’d drawn straws to determine who’d receive a bride, Liam hadn’t been one of the lucky twelve.
Pondering the whims of cha
nging fortunes, he’d headed to Nacho’s Diner and picked up a hot meal. Gus should be happy with the treat and the romantic gesture for Birdie.
He hoped she’d be pleased as well. After this morning’s setbacks of having a home with windows too high for her to see out of and the loss of her pretty dress, he wanted to give her a reason to smile.
His pace quickened. Usually he walked faster heading home, impatient to get back to work and more recently to ensure Gus was safe. Today, his pace was driven only by Birdie. He hoped she’d be as happy to see his return as he’d be to see her again.
Liam strode down the street fast carrying his own package. As they passed each other, they raised their hands in greeting but did not stop. Liam had a business to attend, same as him. And they both had a woman they should wed. If Avis Smith married Liam, she might rearrange his life so completely that Jack would never again get goosebumps from the store’s disorganization.
Thank the Lord, he’d regained an orderly office, and Gus and Birdie were safely inside, and seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Getting along with Gus might help convince Birdie to stay with them.
Things were looking up.
He opened Peregrines’ front door and froze. Gus and Birdie stood behind the counter in identical poses—spines stiff, arms folded across their chests, eyes glaring at each other.
“What’s wrong?”
Gus slapped the counter with his palm. “She shouldn’t have done it.”
Birdie shrugged and strolled back to her end of the counter. “It is what business people do.”
The sharp edge to her usually sweet-tempered voice left him gaping at her. He averted his gaze as he set the food by the stove. “What’s that?”
“We sell things” Birdie replied.
Gus struck the counter again. “But that fabric was important to you.”
“I have lots of fabric.”
“Not with birds.”
Jack’s stomach twisted into a knot. Maybe he could convince her to turn the curtains back into a dress and—
“That doesn’t matter. Mr. Fulton fancied only the curtains and I, similar to you Peregrine men, like matching people with creations they want.”
Jack spun to the windows. Below them the walls were bare and stark. “No…”
“You were gone a long time,” she said in a brittle tone.
Gus jabbed his finger at Birdie. “And you spent half of my grandson’s absence standing on the stepladder staring out the window after him.”
Birdie huffed. “You exaggerate. It was only a few minutes. I was adjusting the curtains.”
“And after Liam took them?” Gus asked. “Why did you climb up on the counter ’n sit there? So you could peer out the window again in search of—”
“Hush, Grandpa.” Birdie’s cheeks glowed pink.
“I will not.”
“My actions were driven by a desire to see Noelle’s natural beauty.” Birdie paced in a tight circle, waving her hands in the air as she talked. “The trees although dusted with snow provide a cozy home for even the smallest of birds. And while my curtains, I mean wall panels, added color here, they did not fit in, just like—” She gulped in a breath and went very still.
Jack rushed to her side. “I’ll go to Liam and buy them back.”
“You will not! I sold them for a reason.”
He reached out his hand to comfort her and change her mind.
She jerked away from him. “Why did you say this was my home?”
Dread squeezed his heart. Birdie’s rising agitation reminded him of yesterday when he’d tried to stop her from leaving. She’d ducked under his arm and bolted. He lowered his arm and struggled to speak above the worry tightening his throat. “Because I hoped you’d stay with us. I still do.”
“Then why are we arguing about curtains?” Her gaze cut to Gus. “Or where I sat and stood, and why?” Her tiny body shook like a leaf in a windstorm. “Why aren’t you telling me what the sheriff said?”
He retreated one step, and then another. He needed to give her space so she wouldn’t run from him again. “Draven told me not to worry. I’m saying the same to you. You’re safe with me. Don’t worry.”
Birdie’s stiffness eased a fraction and so did his.
He pointed to the packages he’d deposited by the stove. “After I visited Doc Deane, I picked up food from Liam’s and Nacho’s.”
“Bet none of them men,” Gus muttered, “are having this many challenges with their brides.”
“Grandpa! That’s enough. Let’s—” He cast about for a way to regain their earlier harmony. “Let’s sit together and have something to eat.”
Birdie snatched a heap of purple fabric from the counter. “I have sewing to finish. I want to complete my friend’s dress today.”
He yearned to touch her, to reassure her with a gentle caress instead of blundering about with words. He kept his hands to himself and hazarded one last question. “Will you—?”
“I’m not doing anything until this dress is done. Even if it takes me all afternoon, I’m not budging from behind this counter.”
He’d wanted to ask if she’d stay at Peregrines’ Post for the day. She’d given him that, so he sealed his lips against saying anything more. They both needed to work. He had more tasks he should be keen to complete. But he wanted only to stay close to Birdie.
He forced himself to walk away from her. “I’m going to my carpentry shop for a while.”
“Fine.” Gus stomped toward his leather tooling rack. “I’ve got a project that needs my attention too.”
Jack held no concerns about cornering his grandfather, right up against his tool rack. “Grandpa—” he whispered.
“Go on,” Gus muttered. “I ain’t leaving that gal’s side.” His voice dropped to an almost indecipherable grumble. “I’m protecting her from everyone—including you, me ’n herself.”
Jack’s feet didn’t pause as he limped down the row dividing the stacks of freight. He couldn’t keep his gaze from darting back in search of Birdie though. He only faced completely forward when he shut the door behind him and crossed his carpentry shop. He kept going.
Up the stairs. To the bedrooms above.
When he’d shared his sorry tale with Draven, the sheriff being a savvy man had simply asked if he’d searched the entire building, including Gus’ room.
He raked his fingers through his hair and wondered not for the first time if he was losing his mind as well. Why hadn’t he thought to do this right away? One last search. If he came up emptied-handed, he’d slog the back way into town. He wasn’t disturbing Birdie or Gus again.
He’d visit his customers, explain the delay, apologize, ensure them it’d never happen again, and organize to reorder their items or refund their money.
He wasn’t a thief. Neither was Gus. Horatio Smythe, or any newspaperman like him, would never truthfully be able to print that he or his kin had been associated with anything deceitful.
The Peregrines were an honest family, and he meant to keep it that way.
CHAPTER 9
Birdie pinned her completed dress on the line and sighed with satisfaction. If she were still in Denver, she could’ve sold the garment to any number of ladies. But this dress was meant for Pearl, in more ways than one. The shimmering amethyst silk would go divinely with the woman’s blue eyes and blonde hair.
If Pearl had a worthy admirer, he should be wasting no time. He should be calling on her more frequently. She shook her head. This time her sigh was resigned.
Today the value of waiting and watching for revelations—like whether or not a man’s affections ran deep—had become glaringly apparent. She’d been in Jack’s home all day, but he’d spent only a few minutes with her. His interest had waned now that he’d set her up as his grandfather’s minder.
At least he hadn’t returned with the sheriff.
She should be glad. It’d make it easier to leave if—or more accurately when—the time came. No attachments. No family bonds.
No husband eager for her company.
Even Gus had stopped talking to her. He once again slept with his head on the counter. No wonder he didn’t sleep at night.
Another creaking floorboard at the rear of the office made her gaze dart that way in the hopes Jack would appear. She’d been doing this all day.
Quelle idiote! The sound was merely the fading day’s temperature drop making the wood complain.
But then the door at the rear opened, Jack limped in, and her world became vibrant again.
Gus lurched upright from his nap. The same as he had when Horatio and Maybelle had arrived yesterday. It seemed the one sure thing that could wake him was a door opening.
He rubbed his eyes as he asked, “What time is it?”
Jack consulted his pocket watch. “Suppertime.”
Gus yawned. “When you feast at Nacho’s tonight, be sure to ask him for a mug of that new chocolate milk concoction he let me taste yesterday.”
Jack gave her an apologetic look. “There’s no such drink. He didn’t visit Nacho’s yesterday. He was here all day.”
The corners of Gus’ mouth twitched as if he were suppressing a grin. “If you say so.”
Jack’s gaze narrowed on his grandfather. “You left without telling me?”
“Had to make a delivery.” Gus drew himself up ramrod straight. “I am the postmaster, after all.”
“Grandpa—”
Birdie cut Jack off before another argument exploded. “You’ve mentioned dining at Nacho’s before. It’s an unusual name. What does it mean?”
“Nacho is short for Ignacio. Mr. Villanueva’s given name,” Gus explained. “He’s got fancy plates and mugs called Talavera and sweet bread he’s dubbed pan dulce.”
Her heart leapt in anticipation of her and Jack sitting together in a restaurant with different food and furnishings. A change of scenery might rekindle the teasing tone he’d used this morning. Without the distraction of work, it might finally lead to a discussion about their marriage.
“Nacho also has a new bride,” Gus added. “If she’s livened up his menu or his life, I want to hear about it tomorrow.”
The Calling Birds_The Fourth Day Page 6