Her mind blanked then raced into action. What could she tell him? That she’d fled the embarrassment of a broken engagement? What if he asked who’d broken it off and why? “Helen?”
She blinked, focused a blithe smile on him and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I became a teacher for the joy of it. This is where I was placed. I think I’d better go start breakfast and awaken the children.”
A furrow appeared on his brow. She wasn’t sure if it was a result of her abrupt explanation or the idea of her fixing breakfast. She didn’t stick around to find out.
* * *
Mrs. Helen Tucker was hiding something. At least that’s what Quinn believed after their conversation yesterday morning. He didn’t doubt she was telling the truth about why she had become a teacher, but the flash of pain in her eyes and the flush of pink on her cheeks had told him there was more to the story than she was letting on. He was actually kind of glad that she’d kept whatever it was to herself for the moment since he was still adjusting to that last revelation of his wife living the life of a fairy princess story. Until she’d married him, that is.
He had to hand it to her, though. Whatever she had written on those little cards of hers sure seemed to be making a difference. It helped that as a rule she was eager to learn and willing to take initiative. Each meal she’d made over the past two days had been an improvement over the last. That was a good thing, since she’d moved the spices out of the order he’d created for them in the cabinet. He’d lost all hope of being able to tell one identical-looking package from the other without a taste test first. How odd would it look if she caught him doing that?
It had occurred to him belatedly that hiding his illiteracy was probably worse than her failing to mention she didn’t know how to do housework. However, that didn’t make him any more eager to divulge his secret. He’d done a fair job of hiding it so far. Of course, he’d nearly had apoplexy the first time he’d walked into the house to find Reece reading a recipe aloud to her while she cooked just like the boy had done the few times Quinn hadn’t been able to avoid trying a new dish. Thankfully, Helen hadn’t seemed to think there was anything out of the ordinary behind Reece’s efforts to be helpful. That was all Reece thought it amounted to as well so Quinn’s secret was still safe.
Quinn’s horse stumbled slightly, reminding him that he was supposed to be paying attention to his surroundings. Today, he’d been riding the fence line of his property fixing any areas with sagging barbed wire. This was the first time he’d been able to survey the state of his farm since the children had come. Having Helen to watch the young ones while the older ones were in school was a huge help to him. Yesterday, he’d gotten more work done in the field than he usually did in a week. The winter wheat was growing steadily though the lack of rain lately had become a concern.
Upon returning to the house, he wasn’t too surprised to find that his wife had company since she’d told him that several of her friends had agreed to teach her some household chores. He just hadn’t realized that the author of the Bachelor List, Ellie Williams, would be Helen’s instructor today. The women’s quiet voices and soft laughter told him that Olivia and Trent must be taking their afternoon nap. How the children could sleep with the lingering sweet, spicy smell emanating from the kitchen was beyond him. His stomach gave a rumble almost loud enough to wake them in the other room.
Ellie was the first to spot him. Her green eyes lit up with a calculating gleam that told him he’d be wise to walk right back out the door. “Quinn, you’re just the man I was hoping to see.”
Uh-oh. His gaze slid to Helen for some clue to what he was in for, but she gave him a guileless smile that set him at ease. Or perhaps it was the smudges of flour on her cheeks and all down the front of her apron that made him think perhaps he could handle himself with the two forces of nature before him. “Good to see you, Ellie. Did Lawson come with you?”
“No. He had to stay and work with the horses.” She tapped her booted toe looking downright impatient to skip the preliminaries and get the bee out of her bonnet. “I rode Starlight over here by myself then set her up with some water and a stall in your barn. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Certainly not.”
Helen must have seen him eyeing the door for she stepped forward with a plate of golden cookies that were sprinkled with some kind of red powder. “Try a snicker doodle cookie. The children helped us make them.”
“Thanks. I don’t mind if I do.” He selected two large misshapen cookies and sat down to await his fate. Hopefully it would involve more cookies. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one. It had to have been at a church picnic or barn raising because he’d certainly never tried to make them on his own. He was starting to think there was something to be said for this marriage deal, after all. Catching Ellie’s narrowed eyes on him, he lifted a brow. “Something on your mind, Ellie?”
She nodded as she wiped her hands on her apron. “I was talking to Rhett the other day. He seemed to be attributing your marriage to the Bachelor List, which is ridiculous because Helen lost the list. Right?”
Helen exchanged a glance with him. “Yes, I lost it. The funny thing is...Quinn found it.”
Quinn nodded. “Sure did.”
“I see.” Ellie swallowed. “But, y’all didn’t get married just because of a silly list I made.”
Quinn bolted upright. “Silly list?”
Helen hushed him with a furtive glance toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “If you wake the children too soon they’ll be cranky the rest of the day.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but that list isn’t silly.” He frowned at Ellie who seemed to grow a bit paler with each word from him. “It’s one of the main reasons I married Helen along with the fact that she loved the children.”
“And because you love each other...?” When Ellie’s hopeful prompt was met with uncomfortable silence, she grabbed onto the table for support. “Oh, dear. I had no idea people would take my list this seriously when I made it. I don’t like the idea of people following it so unquestionably. It isn’t infallible, you know, and neither am I.”
“It doesn’t have to infallible for God to use it to bring people together.” Helen pulled out a chair and urged her friend to sit down. “Now, there’s no need to get in such a dither about things. Quinn and I know what we’re doing.”
Ellie bit her lip. “Well, I suppose if y’all are happy then I’m happy. I would like the list back, though. Y’all certainly don’t need it anymore.”
“If that’s true, then I guess you don’t need it, either.” He leaned his chair back onto two of its legs. “Seeing as you’re married and all.”
Helen’s mouth dropped open. “Quinn, the list belongs to Ellie. She should be able to have it back if she wants it.”
“It seems to me that since it’s called the Bachelor’s List it belongs to the bachelors who need it.”
Ellie lifted her chin. “It’s the Bachelor List—as in a list of bachelors. There is no apostrophe s to make it belong to anyone but me.”
A pasta—what? That thought nearly spilled into words until a quick glance at Helen told him he somehow ought to know what Ellie was talking about. He settled for an ineloquent, but less revealing, “Huh?”
“Will you give me back my list?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Helen, talk some sense into your husband.”
Helen looked purely ticked as she crossed her arms and gave him a look that somehow mixed a glare with puzzlement. “We haven’t been together long enough for me to know how to do that yet.”
Quinn grinned at Helen then gave Ellie’s hand a quick perfunctory pat. “I’ll take good care of it until the next fella is ready to receive it, and I’ve got a good idea who that man will be. I believe the list fell into my hands as a result of divine intervention. There’s nothing you or an
yone else could say to convince me otherwise. Anything good or bad that comes from it is God’s responsibility—not yours.”
Ellie sighed. “Well, if God’s in it, it’s bound to turn out good.”
For whom? He wanted to ask, but kept his mouth shut because he believed every word he’d spoken. Of course, he’d questioned why God had sent Helen at first. He still wasn’t sure he entirely understood all of the reasons. One thing he did know was that, after a few days of marriage, Helen was beginning to be downright helpful. Between the chores, children and ladies visiting he hardly ever saw her alone. That suited him perfectly because it helped him remember that she didn’t belong to him so much as she did to the children. He’d be just fine if they could keep this up for another twenty years or so. After that...well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
Chapter Seven
“Well, darlings, let’s hope that’s the last of it,” Helen said the next day as she entered the living room where she’d left Olivia and Trent a few moments ago to gather the laundry. She’d discovered that the children had come to Quinn with a relatively large wardrobe of good quality clothes. Of course, that meant more work for her because all of them were dirty. She glanced up as she began to separate the clothes into piles. She found Olivia sitting on the rug playing with a doll. However, Trent’s watercolors and paintbrush sat abandoned near his latest masterpiece on the kitchen table. “Trent, come back here and show me your painting!”
Silence—thick and suspicious—permeated the house. That didn’t mean the boy wasn’t close by. She hadn’t heard Trent make a sound since she’d arrived. From what she’d heard from his siblings, Trent’s silence was a relatively new development and one that she found greatly concerning. Quinn had told her that Doc Williams had examined the boy but hadn’t found anything physically wrong. The doctor also said the silence was probably induced by the stress of losing his parents and was most likely a temporary condition. That left room for hope, which was far more than her family’s doctor in Austin had given her after her riding accident.
She froze realizing that another minute or two had passed without any sign of Trent. She left the clothes on the floor once more to search for the boy. She went through each room, searched every potential hiding place and concluded that Trent was not in the house, after all. Reining in her mounting panic, she set Olivia on her hip and headed outside to the only logical place for him to have gone in such a hurry. The outhouse door was wide open showing an empty interior. She spun to scan her surroundings causing Olivia to squeal in excitement at the sudden motion.
“There’s no need to panic. He couldn’t have gotten far. He’s probably just in the barn with those gentle and mammoth animals like Bessie who could step on him or kick him or...” She shook her head to stop the flow of thoughts. “Quinn will find him if I can’t. Of course, I’d have to find Quinn first. Only I don’t know where he is because he’s been working on the fences. How long can it take to fix fences?”
Trent wasn’t in the barn. She ran outside and glanced toward the wheat fields. The burgeoning stalks weren’t tall enough to hide a four-year-old. Perhaps he’d gone back to the house. She trotted from the barn toward the house which set Olivia giggling. Helen started up the porch steps calling, “Trent?”
“He’s right here.” Quinn’s deep voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned to find Trent holding on to Quinn’s hand as they rounded the far corner of the house—the one area she hadn’t been able to see during her frenzied search. “I was breaking sod for the new addition and he must have seen me through the kitchen window. He was sitting on a nearby log watching me work. I didn’t even see him there at first.”
“I only left the room for a few minutes. When I came back he was gone. I knew he couldn’t have gotten far but still...” She shook her head and covered her heart as she walked down the porch step.
Quinn rubbed his jaw, the look in his eyes slightly guilty. “I guess I should have warned you this fella has a talent for disappearing at the drop of the hat.”
She glanced down to find Trent watching her with his deep brown eyes. She set Olivia down then kneeled over to wipe the smudged of dirt from his face with the hem of her apron. “You must have had quite an adventure before sitting on that log to be so messy, young man.”
A reluctant little quirk of his lips was his only response.
“He has a talent for that, too,” Quinn admitted.
She lifted her brow at the men. “A talent for having adventure or for getting messy?”
“Both.”
Helen sank to her knees in front of her nephew so that she could look him in the eye. “Well, I’m all for having adventures and even for getting messy once in a while. However, when you’re with me, you are not to go off by yourself without my permission. Is that understood?”
He understood. She could see that in his eyes. He just didn’t agree. She could see that, too. She was narrowing her eyes, trying to figure out how to handle it when a shout ruined the moment. “Hello, the house!”
She stood in time to see Rhett Granger wave at them as he drove a wagon practically onto their front porch. Isabelle sat beside him, her hands gripping the sides of the conveyance. Helen couldn’t tell if she was hanging on for dear life or preparing to jump out. Apparently, it was the latter because her friend stepped out of the wagon almost before it stopped. “Helen, never let your children ride with that man. He cannot drive.”
Rhett set the brake and hopped down to join them. “Now, that’s gratitude for you. There I was shoeing a horse next to the livery when I overheard Miss Adventure here trying to convince the livery owner that she should be allowed to take out her father’s buggy by herself. Quinn, ask her how many times she’s driven a team of horses.”
Quinn frowned. His tone was unnecessarily grave. “How many?”
“Father let me take the reins a few times.”
Rhett nudged Quinn in the side with his elbow. “Ask her how she planned to move these heavy boxes she brought with her.”
“How did—” Quinn must have seen Helen shaking her head at him for joining in his friends’ antics for he stared down at his boots as though they were the most interesting things in the world.
“For your information, gentlemen, I was going open the crates and carry the books in stacks to the buggy then get Quinn to help me carry them into the house when I got here.” Isabelle popped the top off the crate on the back of the buggy. Taking the first book in hand, she tested its weight as though preparing to throw it at Rhett. “Now, I’m getting a better idea of what to do with them.”
Rhett quirked his brow. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the gentler sex.”
Quinn did a very poor job of hiding his laughter which only made Rhett’s grin broaden. Helen frowned at them both. “Rhett, I’m beginning to think you’re a bad influence on my husband. Let’s get these things inside—although I don’t really know why you’re giving them to me, Isabelle.”
“These are from your parents. The postman dropped the boxes off at the boardinghouse. He said he didn’t want them taking up room in his office forever and a day which they surely would since Quinn never checks his mail.”
Everyone looked at Quinn who flushed a nice shade of red. He shrugged. “Only family I’ve got is right here. No one else would have cause to write so why bother?”
“That isn’t true, Quinn.” Helen smiled at his befuddlement. “When we married I didn’t just become part of your family. You became part of mine. You have in-laws and they’re pretty lovely people if you ask me.”
“In-laws. Now, isn’t that something? I reckon I could stop by the post office now and again if they’ll be writing you.”
“Not just me—us.”
“Us,” he repeated. A flash of worry crossed his face. Before she could question it, he was lifting a crate from the wagon and carrying it toward th
e house. “Rhett, I can take Isabelle back to town when I pick up the kids from school.”
Rhett followed suit with the last crate. “I’d appreciate that, Quinn. I have a lot of work to do back at the smithy.”
The men deposited their burdens in the living room before Rhett said his goodbyes. Quinn took the children with him to “help him dig” the foundation for the addition. Helen was pretty sure that just meant they’d be playing in the dirt, but appreciated him watching the children while she learned how to wash clothes. First, though, she and Isabelle delved into the crates of books to see what treasures her parents had sent. “Thanks for bringing these out, Isabelle.”
“You’re welcome.” Isabelle stacked a few children’s books on the table.
Helen gave her friend a sideways glance. “It was nice of Rhett to drive you.”
Isabelle grimaced. “He just wanted a chance to ask about Amy.”
“He asked about Amy?”
“No, but he would have if I hadn’t been complaining about his driving the whole way. The more I complained the worse he drove.” Isabelle pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “This seems highly suspicious now that I think about it.”
Helen’s smile quickly sobered. “What is the latest on Amy?”
“Father wired home to say he found her in a small town near Dallas where her husband is from. Violet said she wanted to visit them so mother forbade us to leave the house. Thankfully, I was able to convince her that wasn’t practical. Stop laughing. It isn’t funny and I have nothing further to say on the matter.” Isabelle glanced around the living room. “Where should I put these books?”
Helen followed her friend’s gaze. “Hmm. I hadn’t realized that there aren’t any bookshelves in this room. Or, anywhere else in the house now that I think about it. We’d better put these back in the crate for now. I’ll figure out what to do with them later. I have some water heating in the stove’s reservoir for the wash.”
The Texan's Inherited Family Page 8