by Linda Ford
“Son, like I said, I’m glad you’re safe and sound. Let’s leave it at that.” He patted Ladd on the back and returned to the stove.
“Do you drink coffee?” he asked Mercy, then realized she still stood. “Please, have a seat.”
She sat on one of the chairs. Allie hung over the back, her face so close to Mercy’s she breathed in the sweet scent of her skin. “I like coffee fine,” she answered.
He filled a new-looking coffeepot with water, ground some beans and tossed the ground coffee into the pot. In a few minutes he poured her a cupful.
She cradled her hands about the cup.
He sipped his coffee as he turned his attention back to the pot of porridge he cooked. He handed bowls to Ladd. “Set the table, please.”
Mercy kept her attention on her cup as she tried to ignore his presence. It was impossible. He was so big in such a small space. And so vital. He touched Allie’s head, brushed Ladd’s shoulder, smiled at them.
Her mouth went dry. She gulped coffee but the dryness remained.
The children were fortunate to know such affection and approval from their father. What had happened to their mother, she wondered?
He filled bowls, set them on the table and sat down. “Let’s thank God for the food.” The children bowed their heads and Abel said a prayer of thanksgiving, not only for the food but for the safety of his son.
Allie and Ladd sent silent signals to each other across the table. They ducked their heads to eat their breakfast, then looked steadfastly at their father.
Abel cleaned his bowl and drained his coffee cup. “Mercy—you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”
“I answer best to it. After all, it’s my name.” She knew he meant to ask her permission to use her Christian name, but some perverse imp prompted her to answer indirectly.
His smile was fleeting. “Fine. Mercy, I find myself in a quandary.”
She offered him no assistance. He had gotten himself into this quandary without her help. He’d have to get out the same way.
“I need to get wood and cut logs. I can’t leave the children to do it. And they are quite insistent that they want you to stay with them. Will you?”
Although she understood what he wanted, he’d been much more direct about telling her to leave. He could be equally direct about asking her to come back. “Will I what?”
His eyes narrowed. He’d correctly read her resistance.
Just as she understood that he swallowed his pride to ask her straight out. “Will you please stay with the children so I can get at my work?”
She laughed, with relief at being welcomed back and also with a touch of victory that he’d had to lessen his rigid stand. “Why, I’d be pleased to.”
The children grinned. Ladd immediately set to work cleaning the table and washing dishes.
Abel pushed back from the table. “Thank you.” He wrapped slices of bread and syrup in brown paper, snagged a can of beans and then grabbed his coat and hat. “I’ll be on my way.” He hugged the children and hurried out.
She stared at the door for a heartbeat after he left. Two and then a third. His thanks had been perfunctory. His leaving hasty. And why not? He had to prepare for winter. Had to provide the children’s needs.
No reason in the world to wish he could linger a bit and talk to her. No reason at all.
In fact, it was a relief to have him gone. He was too big. He crowded the tiny room and made her uncomfortable. Whew. She released the air from her tight lungs. Now she could breathe easy without concerning herself about his reaction to what she said and did.
She rubbed her arms, remembering his solid chest and warm hands.
Why had his hug felt so good? Like it filled up an empty spot in her heart. She shook her head. Where had such foolishness come from?
Chapter Five
Abel led Sam in the general direction he planned to go but, before he ventured farther, he left the horse waiting as he scouted around the cabin. If some crazy man hung about in the vicinity he wanted to know about it. Heavy gray clouds hung low in the sky. Dampness filled the air. At least the twins would be safe and dry in Mercy’s care.
Mercy! The woman seemed destined to fill his mind with confusion.
Shoot! He was crazier than any wild man. He’d hugged Mercy. Only because he was so all-fired relieved to see Ladd safe and sound. Or at least that’s the excuse he gave himself and initially it had driven his actions. But he’d felt a whole lot more than relief as soon as his arms closed around her. He’d noted a number of things—how she fit just below his chin, how small yet strong she felt, how her hair filled with the scent of summer flowers and fresh-mowed hay.
Momentarily, without forethought, his arms had tightened around her and then she’d stepped back, no doubt as shocked by his actions as he’d been.
A thorough search around the cabin yielded no evidence of anyone lingering in the area. So Abel returned to Sam and left to find firewood and good logs, though building a bigger cabin before winter seemed a distant possibility.
He worked steadily all day, grateful the rain held off. Shadows filled the hollows and hung around the trees as he returned to the cabin with logs. Rather than unload immediately, he headed for the cabin, driven by far more than concern for the children. All day his thoughts had tortured him with memories of Mercy in his arms. Yet only the day before he’d considered her a menace to his children’s safety.
Likely she still was, and he needed to keep that in mind. A woman interested in pursuing a wild life in a show, a woman who ignored his warnings about involving the children in her activities, a woman who rode like a man and…
He reached the cabin door and paused to listen. Laughter came from inside and he forgot to list the other things against Mercy.
Ducking his head, he stepped inside and ground to a halt. Flour covered half the surfaces in the cabin and if he wasn’t mistaken, dough spatters decorated the surfaces that had been spared the flour dusting. The children wore generous amounts of both and Mercy’s hair had turned gray. When had he ever seen such a mess? Was this her idea of looking after the twins? “What exploded?”
The three looked up, saw his expression and glanced around. Their gaze returned to him, guardedness replacing the laughter.
“We made cookies,” Ladd said, his words solid.
“Mercy helped us.” Allie sounded a little more conciliatory.
Mercy didn’t say anything and her gaze dared him to object.
He swallowed hard, the aroma of cookies from the oven overwhelming his annoyance. “Cookies, huh?”
“Want some?” Allie asked.
“They smell good.” He’d overlook the mess in order to enjoy the cookies. And the company of those who had baked them. Tonight he’d clean the mess. At least he’d be too busy to be bored and lonely.
He sat at the table and tried not to look too surprised at the cookies set before him. One was small and slightly black around the edges, another was the size of a saucer, several were balls and one had been shaped into— He peered more closely at it.
“It’s a horse,” Ladd said. “Allie made it.”
Allie stood at Abel’s side waiting for his approval. Who’d have thought to make a horse out of cookie dough? Probably Mercy. “It’s looks very nice.”
Allie beamed her approval.
Mercy handed him a cup of coffee although she didn’t join him and the children at the table.
He studied her out of the corner of his eyes. Was she uncomfortable around him? He had no one but himself to blame if she was. Nor could she find this any more awkward than did he.
He downed his coffee and ate two cookies—one each child had made—pronounced them delicious, then hurried back outside to deal with the load of firewood.
A couple of hours later, he returned to the cabin. When he stepped inside, he blinked at the transformation. The flour and dough had been cleaned up and the vegetable soup Allie craved simmered on the stove. The table had been set for three. No reason he shoul
d be disappointed, he told himself. Mercy had to get going if she planned to get back while she could see the trail.
She grabbed her jacket and he followed her out the door.
“Keep alert. I don’t like to think what a man is doing out in the woods.”
She chuckled. “I’ll keep my gun and rope ready and, if need be, use them both.”
He didn’t ask how she’d use them both but, no doubt, she could.
She swung into the saddle and sat there. “I don’t know if you were aware that there are church services at the ranch every Sunday. There’s a service tomorrow, in the cookhouse. Everyone is welcome. If you’re interested.”
“I’d love to come. I want the children to realize that Sunday means church. What time?”
“We meet right after breakfast.” She gave the time. “See you then.”
“Yes. I look forward to it.” He meant both church and seeing her again. And he feared it showed in his eyes.
She smiled softly. No mocking. No challenge. “Until tomorrow then.” She reined about and rode from the yard.
He watched her until he could no longer see her. A sigh rose from deep inside him. Then he shook his head. He’d once followed his heart and look where it had landed him. From now on he meant to follow his head and his head said Mercy was a pack of trouble who would turn all their lives upside down and sideways if he wasn’t careful.
*
Mercy put on her prettiest green taffeta dress. She might be wild and unconventional, or so her friends said, but she wouldn’t go to church in pants. She snorted. Despite Ambrose’s opinion of her. Not even if church was in a cookhouse on a ranch.
She pulled her hair back into a twist at the back of her head. When she, Jayne and Sybil had spent the weeks on the ship crossing the ocean they had brushed and styled each other’s hair. She missed it but her friends were now married. It sure hadn’t taken them long. They claimed God had sent their husbands into their lives even though Jayne had accidently shot Seth and Brand had ridden in with his dog to break Eddie’s horses.
Maybe God had sent Abel and the children into Mercy’s life.
She dismissed the idea before it could light in her thoughts. Abel made it clear as the water in the stream that flowed by the ranch that he didn’t approve of her. Not that she cared. Not a whit. She had plans that did not include a man and children…a ready-made family. Nor did she think God concerned Himself with the petty affairs of man.
She looked at the picture of her parents that sat on the dresser. What did family mean? She shook her head, dismissed the question and hurried to meet Linette and Grady.
Grady had recovered from his cold but Linette still looked pale.
“Are you sure you’re up to this? And having everyone come for dinner afterward?”
Linette nodded. “I’ll have lots of help.” She let out a large sigh. “I’m missing Eddie. I wish they were all back home.”
“If Eddie was correct about how long it would take they’ll be gone another week.”
“I know.” She took Mercy’s arm as they walked down the hill to church. “It will be the longest week of my life.” They had reached the steps to the cookhouse when Abel and the children rode into sight.
“Mercy, Mercy,” the twins called, waving madly.
Abel immediately caught Allie’s hand and calmed her.
Linette chuckled and withdrew her arm. “Seems your attention is requested.”
Mercy smiled and waved at the twins while her gaze went unbidden to their father. The brim of his hat shaded his face so she couldn’t make out the expression in his eyes and yet her lungs constricted so sharply she almost stumbled. “The children have accepted my friendship readily enough.” Where did that note of regret in her voice come from? Maybe Linette wouldn’t notice it.
But the way her friend studied her and patted her hand, Mercy knew she hoped in vain. “I expect their father is glad of your friendship, too.”
“I didn’t mean that. The last thing I need or want is a rule-bound man.”
The twins continued to call out to Mercy.
Linette took Grady’s hand and climbed the steps to the cookhouse door. “You best go greet your friends.” Laughter rounded her voice.
Mercy opened her mouth to protest that Abel wasn’t her friend and found she couldn’t force the words out. Were they friends? Or did he simply tolerate her for the sake of the children? She shrugged. What did it matter? Just because he’d hugged her…out of gratitude. Just because her heart broke into a gallop when he smiled… It meant nothing. It only indicated her growing restlessness. She needed to get back to practicing her riding and roping tricks.
They reached her side and Abel handed the children down, then swung off the horse to land at Mercy’s side.
“’Morning,” he said. “Are we late?”
“No. Right on time.” She waited as he tied the horse to a rail. “Come and meet the others.”
The children held her hands as she led the way up the stairs. “Cookie will be happy to meet you.” She hesitated a moment. Maybe she should warn them of what to expect, but what could she say? She opened the door and stepped inside, the children at her side and Abel bringing up the rear.
Cookie swept across the floor toward them.
Mercy held the twins firmly. “This is Abel Borgard and his children, Allie and Ladd.”
Cookie ground to a halt before the twins.
“This is Cookie.”
“Welcome, welcome.” The big woman opened her arms.
Ladd’s grip tightened. Allie shrank against Mercy’s leg.
“Shy little things, are you?” Cookie patted their heads and swung her attention to Abel. “I’ve been wondering when we’d get to meet you.”
Abel held out his hand.
Cookie grabbed him and pulled him into a smothering hug, patting his back hard enough that the breath whooshed out of his lungs. After several pats, she released him.
Abel sucked in air and glowered at Mercy. “You could have warned me,” he whispered as Cookie returned to the table.
“Would you have believed me?” she whispered back.
Abel grunted. “Likely not.”
Mercy grinned.
“You don’t need to enjoy it quite so much.”
“Sorry.” She wasn’t and guessed he knew it. She indicated he should step forward and meet the others. “Bertie, Cookie’s husband.”
“Glad to have you with us.” Bertie shook Abel’s hand.
Mercy went around the circle. “Cassie and her children, Daisy, Neil, Billy and Pansy. My friends who came from England with me, Jayne and Sybil, and you know Linette.” Grace and her sister, Belle, wouldn’t join them today. With Ward away at the roundup Grace preferred to stay at their ranch a few miles away.
They made the rounds and found a place to sit. The twins sat on either side of Mercy, and Abel sat by Allie. His bent legs pressed Allie tight to Mercy’s side. He rested a hand on the bench behind his daughter and leaned close as if sheltering her. Mercy sat very still, afraid if she shifted, she would bump into his fist or rub against his shoulder. She crossed her ankles and tucked her feet under the bench, holding herself stiff and upright, and focused her attention on Cookie, who rose to lead them in singing a few hymns.
But how could she ignore him when he sang with a clear deep voice that made all the female voices, and indeed even Bertie’s, sound mild and weak?
Did he really mean the words as firmly as he sang them?
Then Bertie stood to speak. “I know you’re all missing your men.” The women around Mercy murmured agreement. “It brings to mind a time when I was alone and wandering far from God. I had convinced myself that God didn’t care about me. I was convinced I had no part in His great plans. It was a mighty lonely place for me to be.”
Mercy didn’t normally give Bertie’s speeches much thought; today she clung to each word in order to stop herself from feeling Abel with every pore.
Bertie continued. “I found s
helter in a church one night and happened to overhear the preacher practicing his sermon. ‘Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thoughts afar off.’ Unaware that I listened from my bed on one of the pews, the man went on to talk about how God knows and cares about every aspect of our lives. ‘Too wonderful,’ he said over and over.” Bertie sighed deeply. “That was the day I began my journey back to God…a God who cares personally about each of us. Ladies, and Mr. Borgard, rest assured that not only does He know and care about us, He knows and cares about the men on the roundup, too.”
Abel nodded.
Allie shifted to lean against her father and Abel wrapped an arm about her shoulders. His hand brushed Mercy’s arm as he drew his daughter close and Mercy stiffened. She kept her eyes on Bertie though she longed to glance at Abel and see if he’d been as aware of the touch as she.
As she wondered, the service ended and Cookie invited them to share coffee and cinnamon buns. Mercy bolted to her feet at the invitation and hurried to Cookie’s side. “I’ll help you.”
Cookie laughed. “I can manage. You go enjoy that Mr. Borgard.” She leaned close. “My, he’s a handsome fellow.”
Mercy’s cheeks burned and she couldn’t look at Abel. Hopefully, he hadn’t heard.
“Now go sit with your friends.”
Mercy hurried to sit beside Jayne.
Her friend nudged her. “Shouldn’t you make Abel feel more welcome?”
Finally she allowed herself to glance at him. He stood before the bench where they had sat together, the children at his side. The three of them looked about at the women and children, then Abel turned toward the door.
“Don’t let him leave,” Jayne whispered.
Mercy’s awkward awareness of him vanished as she bolted to her feet and went to the trio. “Come and join the others for coffee. It’s a tradition. And no one should miss out on Cookie’s cinnamon rolls. There’s nothing like them.”
Cookie beamed her approval as Mercy took Allie’s hand and urged Abel forward.
He sat across from Linette and Cassie.
Mercy sat beside him. The children crowded in next to them, pushing them shoulder to shoulder.