Falling for the Rancher Father

by Linda Ford

  He pushed his chair back. “Ladd, Allie, come here.” He patted his knees and the pair scrambled into his lap. Their arms cradled his neck and he wrapped his arms about them both and held them tight.

  “I love you two deeper than the ocean, higher than the sky and wider than forever. You are the very best thing that has ever happened to me. I wouldn’t trade either of you for gold nuggets the size of this cabin.” His voice trembled with the enormity of his love for them. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

  “We won’t,” they chorused as they burrowed into his shirtfront.

  He held them close as long as they would allow, but all too soon they wriggled away. “Get ready for bed while I clean the kitchen. Then I’ll read to you.”

  A few minutes later, Ladd lay on the narrow bed he would share with Abel, and Allie crawled under the covers of the trundle bed right beside them.

  “First, let’s say our prayers.”

  The children closed their eyes and murmured their usual prayers, asking for blessings on the people in their lives. But then Ladd added, “And thank You for Mercy. I like her.”

  Before Abel could protest, Allie added, “Bless Miss Mercy and help her be the best Wild West person ever. Amen.”

  “Children, I don’t think you should be including Mercy in your prayers.” He hated to say it. Knew it didn’t make for sound theology.

  Allie gave a gentle smile. “I think God would approve. He loves her, too, you know.”

  What could he say? The child was right. And yet her defense of Mercy worried Abel. The woman signified danger for his children. But he simply said, “I suppose He does at that,” then opened the storybook he’d been reading to them.

  This was his favorite time of the entire day. And he didn’t intend to let a certain wild woman ruin it for him.

  He read for a few minutes as the children grew drowsy, then closed the book and prepared to tiptoe away, though he could only move a few feet before he ran out of space.

  “Papa?”

  “Yes, son?”

  “Mercy is the smartest woman ever and would never do anything foolish.”

  Abel’s sense of contentment and well-being crashed. Mercy again! How had she so quickly and thoroughly beguiled his children? He had to keep her away from them. How hard could it be? Yes, he needed help with the children. But he’d take them to Linette and leave instructions that they were to stay away from Mercy and she from them.

  It was simple enough. Linette would surely understand and agree. Beside, how could she refuse if he gave instructions?

  *

  The next morning, Linette and Grady were sick with colds and Linette didn’t think it was wise for the twins to come for the day.

  Mercy would deliver the message to Abel on her behalf, and then maybe she’d never see the man again. She could certainly live without his scorn. Yes, he had his reasons for concern over his daughter. Momentarily she felt a silly sense of longing at his affection for his kids. But more and more his final words churned inside her head. Foolish ways, indeed! Humph. He’d soon see firsthand how foolish she was when she became a star in a Wild West show. Not that she cared what he thought or whether he ever saw her perform.

  She passed through the clearing that surrounded the ranch site and climbed the hill toward his cabin. Soon she entered the woods, where the cooler air made her pull her jacket tighter.

  A dark shadow to her right caught her attention and as it slipped out of sight, her nerves tingled. An animal of some sort. Her pearl-handled pistols were stowed in her saddlebags, but she mostly used blanks in them. However, she had a business pistol and a rifle and both were loaded. She palmed the pistol and kept alert. Again she noticed the shadow. It passed so far to her right she wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been watching so carefully. Whatever it was followed her. Her skin prickled. This required further investigation. She guided Nugget off the trail, dismounted and slid through the trees toward the shadow, her gun at the ready. She paused and listened. There came a rustle of leaves as they fell to the ground to join the other yellowed and browned ones. Wind whispered through the trees. Birds cooed and called.

  Then a metallic click froze her blood.

  “Drop your gun and turn around real slow.”

  She considered the order for about two seconds. But, knowing she had few options, she obeyed and with her arms raised to indicate she didn’t pose any danger, she turned to confront a man, short of stature, wide of beam with enough black whiskers to cover most of him for the winter.

  “Why you sneaking up on me?” he demanded in a voice that sounded like he used his throat to store nails.

  “Seems I didn’t do any sneaking up on anyone.”

  “Only ’cause I’m better ’n you in the woods.”

  Her grin felt crooked. “You are that all right.”

  “Sure am. Now why you following me?”

  “I didn’t know it was you, now did I? I thought it might be a wolf.”

  He made a derisive sound. “And if it was, were you figuring to shoot him with that?” He nodded at her pistol on the ground.

  “I figured to scare him off.”

  “Missy, you sure are a greenhorn. What if I’d been a bear?” He lowered the gun and hooted like he enjoyed finding someone so foolish. There was that word again. It burned clear up her throat that she’d inadvertently proved Abel’s opinion of her. Not that he’d ever know.

  “I guess in hindsight, I was a little careless.” She let her hands fall to her side and her breath eased out when he didn’t object. “Who are you?”

  The man’s dark eyes narrowed. “Ain’t none of yer business. Just leave me alone if you know what’s good for ya.”

  “Gladly. Now can I go?”

  “Where ya going?”

  “Don’t see that’s any of your business.”

  He waved the gun as if to remind her he had the upper hand.

  She shrugged. “Just delivering a message to a man, then I’m going about my own business.” She emphasized the final two words.

  “Then git. And forget you ever saw me.”

  She started away.

  “Not that you’ll ever see me again.”

  “Suits me fine,” she muttered when she was well out of hearing. The woods were getting overrun with crazy men.

  As she continued on her journey, something about the whiskered man bothered her. She’d seen him somewhere. But where? She couldn’t place him. Had it been under good circumstances or bad? Was he a danger, or harmless except for his craziness? She shrugged. What difference did it make? He was likely only passing through.

  She reached Abel’s cabin. His horse stood saddled and waiting. He opened the door as she approached, the twins at his side. As soon as he saw who it was he eased the children back to the cabin and pulled the door closed.

  She gritted his teeth. A person could almost think he didn’t welcome her presence. Almost? It couldn’t have been plainer unless he hung a big sign over the door.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  Although his words were polite enough and his tone moderate, she felt the sharp edge of each syllable, and if not for her concern for Linette and Grady she would have reined Nugget around and left him to find out on his own her reason for coming. Instead, she swallowed a huge amount of resistance. “I brought a message from Linette. She and Grady are sick with colds and she asked you not to bring the children today.”

  The harshness in his face fled, replaced with concern. “I trust they are not seriously ill.”

  “Me, too.” Mercy’s heart had clenched at the thought of a sick child, but Linette assured her it was only a cold and normal for this time of year.

  “Thank her for letting me know. I wouldn’t want Allie to get sick.”

  “That’s what Linette said.”

  The door creaked open and two little heads peeked out. “Hello, Miss Mercy,” the twins called.

  “Hello, you two. How are you?”

  “Good, than
k you,” Allie said.

  “Papa, are you going to take us with you to the woods now?” Ladd asked.

  Abel looked toward the sky. The clouds had been thickening all morning. “I can’t. It looks like rain.”

  Or snow, Mercy added silently.

  “Then what are you going to do?” Ladd’s voice carried a huge dose of worry. “You said you had to get logs. Papa, we’ll be okay by ourselves. Won’t we, Allie?”

  Allie nodded her head and looked determined.

  “I’ll take care of Allie.” Ladd’s voice carried a hefty dose of concern.

  Mercy’s eyes stung at Ladd’s sense of loyalty and responsibility. From the far recesses of her memory came a picture. She was about four, which would make Butler six. He’d held her hand tight as he helped her cross a bridge. As she looked at the memory, she realized there had never been any danger. The bridge was plenty wide enough that she wouldn’t fall off but only Butler’s hand had given her the courage to venture across.

  Ladd’s promise to protect his sister reminded her of that moment.

  Abel sighed deeply. “I really need to get those logs home.”

  Was he going to leave the kids alone? “How old are you?” she asked them.

  “Nine,” they answered together.

  “But we’re very responsible,” Ladd assured her.

  Mercy thought of the whiskered man in the woods. “Why don’t I stay with the children?” What had prompted her to make such an offer? He’d refuse without even considering it. After all, he’d made his opinion of her very plain. Foolish. The word stuck in her throat.

  “Oh, please, Papa. Please.” Allie clasped her hands in a beseeching gesture and rounded her blue eyes.

  Mercy hid a grin. Anyone who could deny such a plea would have to have a heart of stone.

  “It’s an excellent idea, don’t you think, Papa?” Ladd added reasonableness to the request.

  Mercy chewed her lip to keep from revealing her amusement.

  Abel had his back to her, considering his children. Slowly he turned and faced her. His mouth drew back in a frown. Lines gouged his cheeks.

  Even before he spoke, she knew he’d refuse.

  Then Ladd tugged at his arm and Abel turned back to the children.

  “Papa, you know you don’t have many days before winter.”

  “You’re right, but still—” His shoulders rose and fell. He caught Allie’s chin. “Baby, you have to promise to take it easy.”

  “I will, Papa.”

  He placed his hand on Ladd’s head. “Sunshine, you have to promise to watch your sister.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And no Wild West stuff.”

  Mercy coughed. “Shouldn’t you be giving me the instructions?”

  He faced her, rather reluctantly, she figured. “I will accept your offer but only because I’m desperate. It’s late in the season to be starting out and I must make up for lost time.”

  “My,” she said, sighing as she pressed a palm to her chest, “your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

  Allie giggled, then seemed to think better of it and smothered it with her hand.

  Abel’s eyes narrowed. They were the same dark blue as his son’s, Mercy noted. And he had the same unruly dark blond hair half controlled by his hat. “You can put your horse in the pen.” He nodded in the general direction. “And thank you for offering to watch the children.”

  His thanks was so begrudging that she laughed as she reined about and took care of Nugget.

  He was in his saddle when she sauntered back to the cabin. “The children know where everything is. If you need anything, ask them.” But he made no motion toward leaving.

  She favored him with the most innocent, sweet look she could manage when inside she bounced back and forth between amusement and annoyance. “We’ll do just fine. Don’t worry.” She knew full well that every minute he was gone he would worry she might do something foolish. Some rebellious portion of herself that she’d never tamed urged her to add, “I’ll try not to do anything foolish.”

  At the look on his face, she laughed.

  Ladd and Allie stood in the doorway. “We’ll be good, Papa. Truly we will.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.” He rode away.

  Mercy didn’t wait for him to disappear from sight before she shepherded the twins inside and closed the door. “It’s getting colder by the minute,” she said by way of explanation for her hurry. She’d never been in the cabin before. Hadn’t been the least bit interested in it. Now she glanced around taking in every detail. Which didn’t take more than a minute. The cabin was smaller than Jayne and Seth’s. Only one tiny room. The small cookstove would more than heat the place on most days. She expected by the time the fire was hot enough to boil water the room would be hot enough to make a grown man drip with sweat. Only one tiny window allowed in light. The few shelves lining the wall overflowed with books, clothing, hardware. One corner of the ceiling had a definite sway to it. She recalled noticing damage to the roof outside. Abel had real cause for hurry if he meant to give these children a warm, safe place for the winter and she knew he did.

  “What would you like to do?” she asked the pair.

  “I’m not supposed to do anything,” Allie said, a little tremor in her voice.

  “Your father said you were to take it easy. There are still lots of things you can do.”

  “Like what?” Both children leaned forward, eagerness in every muscle.

  She looked about. “Lots of things.” And she’d dream them up in the next few minutes.

  She’d prove to Mr. Abel Borgard that she could be trusted not to act foolishly. Not that she ever did. No matter what his opinion of her activities.

  Chapter Three

  Abel considered the work he’d accomplished. Trees selected for the cabin and cut down. Some firewood gathered. Despite the crisp air, he worked with his shirtsleeves rolled up, sweat trickling down his back. Today held more urgency than just the approaching winter. Mercy was back at the cabin with his children and his nerves tingled at the idea. He’d only seen the woman twice and both times her behavior had given his heart a fit. Would he get home to find the children swinging from the rafters or jumping off the bed?

  He swung his ax with renewed vigor. The best thing he could do was get as much work done in as little time as possible.

  A few minutes later he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. That’s when his neck muscles twitched. Something or someone watched him. He could feel it. He jerked about. A dark shadow ducked into the bushes. But not before he’d seen enough to know it was not an animal but a squat man with a dark beard down to his chest.

  His heart did a persistent two-step inside his chest, making it hard to get a decent breath.

  He pretended to study a tree as if considering how best to chop it down, hoping he’d see the man again. He didn’t much care for someone to be spying on him, but at least if Abel could see him he’d know the children were safe. Maybe he should forget getting logs and head back.

  He warred between the urgency of his task and the need to assure himself of the children’s safety.

  One simple fact persuaded him to return to swinging his ax.

  Mercy had a gun—he’d seen the bulge in her jacket as she returned to the cabin after penning her horse. He had no doubt she knew how to use it. Nor did he think she would hesitate to do so if the need arose. She’d probably jump at the chance.

  He chuckled softly as he realized her foolish behavior provided him with a bit of comfort at the moment.

  Twice more he glimpsed the dark shadow of the man. What kind of person spied on another? But after a bit he stopped worrying about the mysterious man, who did nothing to make Abel feel threatened. And as long as he was content to watch Abel, those back at the cabin were safe.

  He worked steadily into the afternoon, pausing briefly only to drink from his canteen, chow down a sandwich or wipe his brow. As the shadows lengthened, he headed back to the cabin. He’d seen no sign
of the intruder for the past hour and hoped the man had left the vicinity. But he wouldn’t be completely at ease until he reached the cabin and saw the twins for himself.

  He tended Sam first, knowing he would not want to return to the job once he entered the cabin. He put the saddle and blanket in the little shed that offered a modicum of protection, then crossed the yard, threw open the door and ducked inside.

  The aroma that greeted him filled his mouth with saliva. How pleasant to come home to a hot meal after a hard day of work. He’d always hoped Ruby would change, would someday decide she liked being married, liked being a mother, liked tending the home. It had never happened and now it was too late for dreams. He would never again risk his children’s happiness for the hope of a happy home, and certainly not for the sake of a hot meal. Though it would be pleasant to have something besides beans and bannock for a change.

  “The place is getting cold,” Mercy said, reminding him he stood in the open doorway.

  He closed the door and swung the children off their feet in a big hug. He studied each face. No guilt on either. No heightened color in Allie’s cheeks. That was good. And no one mentioned a whiskered man visiting. The last of his tension slipped away.

  “Your supper is ready.” Mercy shrugged. “I thought you might be hungry.” She slipped past him and snagged her jacket from the hook by the door. “I’ll be on my way.”

  “Do you think Mrs. Gardiner and her son will be recovered by tomorrow?”

  Mercy gave him a look so full of disbelief he felt a little foolish. “I wouldn’t think so. It usually takes a few days to get over a cold, doesn’t it?”

  “I guess so.” Abel’s thoughts raced. He still had a lot of work to do and he couldn’t leave the children unsupervised while he was away. He looked about again. The children were in one piece. A meal awaited him. That left him one option. He made up his mind and had to act quickly before he thought better of it.

  “Can I persuade you to work for me until such time as the children can go to the ranch again? I’ll pay you a fair wage.”

  The children grabbed his hands and grinned up at him then turned to Mercy.