by Linda Ford
Now he was here with a promise to stay. Until death parted them. Seemed like that might be a very long time. He expected that would be a good thing for Jill, though he hadn’t expected she’d be wearing trousers. He’d planned to deal with the matter later but Carly’s words caused him to reconsider. Seems there were enough things in life to deal with. This one didn’t seem all that important. “I might hang a calendar.”
In a few minutes, the floor was clean, the bed made. His room was ready and he looked around. A small room. Maybe eight by eight but plenty big enough for him.
Jill perched on the edge of the cot. “Where’m I gonna sleep?”
“In my room,” Carly answered. “There a small bed out in the barn. Used to be mine but when I outgrew it, we didn’t give it away.” She sighed. “We don’t give away, throw away or burn old stuff.”
Jill pursed her lips. “What if I don’t want to sleep with you?”
Carly stopped at the door. “Then where will you sleep? With your brother?”
“No. I don’t want to sleep with him, either. Don’t want to be with anyone. I want to be by myself.”
Carly sent Sawyer a look that he thought meant she wanted him to deal with this but he had nothing to offer. He’d learned a rebellious Jill was difficult to reason with. Perhaps Carly would have better success.
She turned her attention back to Jill. “There’s no other place. As you can see, it’s a small house.” After an expectant beat, she continued. “You have to sleep someplace.”
“Who says?”
Carly laughed. Stopped at the rebellion in Jill’s face. “Everyone sleeps.”
“Who says?” Jill wouldn’t look at either of them, tried to look disinterested.
Sawyer recognized the way she pulled her expression blank and tried to look as if nothing mattered to her. He did the same. This was why she needed a permanent home.
Carly grinned widely. “You’ll change your mind soon enough.”
“No, I won’t.”
“I’ll get the bed ready just in case.” She left.
“Stop being ridiculous,” Sawyer murmured to Jill as he followed Carly. He didn’t wait to see what his little sister would say. Or do.
Carly headed for the barn, went to the far corner where the pieces of a bed leaned against the wall. She reached for them.
“I’ll get it.” And before she could voice disagreement, he picked up the headboard, footboard and spring, leaving the side rails for her. He glanced about for a mattress. Didn’t see one.
“I’ll stuff a tick,” Carly said.
They returned to the house and went to Carly’s room. He let her enter first, feeling somewhat awkward at being in her bedroom.
She stopped so suddenly he almost collided with her. She dropped the rails to the floor and rushed forward with a little cry.
He didn’t need to look to guess that Jill had done something wrong. But it did cross his mind to wonder if Carly might be having regrets about their agreement.
Chapter Six
Carly’s breath caught halfway up her throat as she looked at Jill. The child had opened the trunk and pulled out two little nightgowns Carly’s mother had lovingly stitched for one of the babies.
At Carly’s cry, Jill spun around and dropped the little china shepherdess that had belonged to Carly’s mother. The head snapped off and rolled in one direction, the little lamb broke from the shepherdess’s arms.
Jill’s expression went from surprised to impassive.
Carly didn’t give it a thought as she fell on her knees and reached for the broken pieces. She was vaguely aware of Sawyer stepping into the room, taking Jill by the arm and leading her away. With a distant part of her mind, she heard Sawyer speak, heard her father say something. She held the broken ornament in her palms and let her tears wash the pieces.
Through the haze of her silent weeping, she saw Sawyer’s legs and boots. She didn’t look up. He squatted beside her. “I’m sorry.”
She rocked her head back and forth. No amount of regret would fix the broken ornament.
“Your father said it had belonged to your mother.”
She sniffed back the tears. “She called it her Twenty-third Psalm reminder. You know, ‘The Lord is my shepherd.’ She said all she had to do was look at the tenderness in this girl’s face—” She turned the broken head over to see the serene smile. Her throat choked closed. When she spoke again, the words edged past the tightness. “She said looking at this made her remember how much God loved her despite the pain of losing so many babies and her failing health.” Her heart slowly shattered as she recalled her sweet mother. “I promised her I would never forget that fact.” She filled her lungs and spoke firmly, confidently. “She used to quote Romans chapter eight, verses thirty-eight and thirty-nine. Nothing, she said, can separate us from the love of God.”
“Hmm.” The sound revealed nothing.
She shifted slightly to look at him. He watched her with those expressionless eyes. Could he really feel nothing? Her own emotions and Father’s simmered so close to the surface that they continually spilled over. Sometimes they erupted explosively. “You believe in God’s eternal love, don’t you?”
He held her gaze, revealing nothing of his opinion.
She waited, wanting to know what he felt. Perhaps hoping to find comfort in hearing him confess, as Mother did, that God’s love was unchangeable, never wavering.
“I don’t know much about love. Not man’s nor God’s. I can’t say if I believe in it as you do.” He lifted one shoulder. “Can’t say I don’t believe, either.”
They had both settled to the floor, carefully studying each other. This man was her husband. She knew so little about him but it seems she had a lifetime to learn everything…at least, as much as he was willing to let her know. She shivered a little. Perhaps it would be nothing.
He picked up a fragment of china and handed it to her. “Can it be mended?”
She held the pieces in her palms, studied them a moment. “I doubt it.” She met his gaze. Did she detect a lingering question in his eyes? She studied him. “Are you talking about the shepherdess or something more?”
He nodded. “Are you going to change your mind?”
“About what? The shepherdess? It will never be the same.”
“I don’t mean your ornament.” His blue-green eyes darkened to nighttime sky. “Are you going to change your mind about us?”
“Our marriage?”
“I’m sure we can go to the preacher and tell him we’ve changed our minds. He’ll understand.”
“Have we changed our minds?”
“I haven’t,” he said. “My reasons and my decision still stand. But you might think you’ve made a mistake.” He indicated the broken ornament.
She plucked a baby blanket from the trunk and wrapped the pieces carefully. “I know it’s beyond repair but I can’t bear to throw it away.” Her chuckle was as much self-mockery as amusement. “Guess I’m my father’s daughter…nothing is every ready to be discarded.” She put the bundle in the trunk, then plucked the two little nightgowns off the floor. “Mother put so much love into making these, hoping and praying to have another child to raise.” She rang her fingers along the row of neat stitches at the hem.
“And yet she never lost her belief in God’s goodness.” His softly spoken words settled her heart. Odd that they should do that. She couldn’t explain why they did.
“If anything, her faith grew stronger. She often said adversity forced one’s roots to grow deeper.”
“Sometimes adversity has the power to tear one from their roots.”
She couldn’t say how she knew but she did—he wanted to know if Jill could be fixed. Perhaps if he could be fixed. But he would never ask. Never admit it.
She pushed to her feet. He did the same and they stood three feet apart, each watching the other. “I’m not sure about Jill but I remember something Mother said. ‘Today is not the end. Tomorrow is full of surprises and possibilities.
’”
He held her gaze, searched it, seeking to understand, perhaps looking for hope.
She hadn’t answered his original question. It wasn’t fair to keep him waiting and wondering, perhaps expecting the worse. Though, she realized with a hint of humor, did he think her saying she didn’t want to continue with their marriage agreement was the worst? Or did he think the worst would be for her to say she wanted to continue?
“I haven’t changed my mind about our agreement.” She meant to do everything in her power to make it work.
He studied her. Then released a barely audible sigh. And nodded.
She shifted her gaze from his. He might not reveal his feelings, yet his eyes sucked at her very soul. “I’m going to set up the bed for Jill. It’s up to her if she uses it or not.”
“She hasn’t been very cooperative.”
Carly chuckled. “Father would call it a streak of contrariness.”
They both turned toward the door where they could hear Father’s rumbling voice as he talked to Jill. “He’ll be telling her about his childhood. He and Jill have a lot in common. He was orphaned at a young age. Had no family, so at nine he was on his own, trying to support himself.” As she talked, they put the bed together. “He found a good family to work for when he was fifteen and began to work for Mother’s uncle. Before that, he encountered some cruel people.”
“Maybe Jill will realize that things could be worse than they are.”
She placed the final side rail and straightened. “When Mother died, I don’t think I could have believed that things could be worse. Now, in hindsight, I understand they could have been. But it takes time to work through pain.”
They considered each other. Silently sharing something they had in common. For the briefest of moments, she thought she saw a flash of acknowledgment. As if he saw her pain. Admitted his own.
And then it was gone. Perhaps it had only been her imagination.
“Now for a mattress.” She didn’t invite him to accompany her but half expected he would. Since they arrived at the ranch, he had followed her on every task. Not that there was any need for his help but with him holding the mattress and her stuffing in sweet hay from the stack in the loft, she admitted how much easier it was than struggling on her own.
Jill still sat at the table with Father when they returned. Carly spoke to Sawyer.
“I don’t need any help to make the bed. Sit and talk with Father.”
“Aye, you do that, laddie. Jilly has been telling me about your travels. Seems you’ve had a few adventures.”
Carly made sure to leave the bedroom door open so she would be in on any stories Sawyer told. She listened shamelessly as he told of being followed by some wolves and encountering a winter storm.
As she smoothed the last cover on the bed, Sawyer said, “We found shelter with an old man in a cabin by a river.” His voice deepened. “A loner with a mean streak.”
Carly shuddered. She’d sooner deal with marauding animals and Mother Nature at her worst than a man with evil intent.
“Aye, I’ve met a few of those nasty sort. What did this one do?”
“He snatched Jill from her bed and said he would kill her if I didn’t give him all my money.”
Carly went to the door, needing to see Jill’s reaction to the story.
She sat at the table, motionless, staring at her hands. Hiding her feelings as well as Sawyer.
But Jill was a little girl, she would have been so frightened. So powerless. Carly went to Jill’s side. “How awful. I’m glad you’re okay.” Jill showed no emotion. Carly looked at Sawyer. He too was impassive, revealing nothing. She wasn’t convinced that meant he felt nothing. “What did you do?”
“I agreed to give it to him but it was in my saddlebag. So was my gun. I couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t hurt Jill, so I hid my gun at first. When I made as if to give him my money, Jill kicked him and bit him.”
Father and Carly looked at each other and grinned. No doubt he was thinking Carly would have done much the same.
“I pulled out my gun then and he backed away. We left. Better a snowstorm than a crazy man.”
“You’ve had an awful time. And not just that man.” She longed to offer some sort of comfort but both Sawyer and Jill sat stiff and expressionless. Both believing they felt nothing and no one could hurt them. “You’re a very brave little girl.” She squeezed Jill’s shoulder, then moved away, sensing the child didn’t know how to deal with such gestures.
“I wasn’t brave. I was angry.”
“And scared, too, I think. I know I would have been.”
Jill didn’t answer.
“Good thing you had Sawyer to take care of you.”
Two Gallagher heads came up and Sawyer and Jill looked at each other. Both seemed surprised at Carly’s observation. If only Mother was alive. She would know how to help this pair. Carly could only do what she thought Mother would have said and done. Right now, she knew Mother would have hugged them both but Carly didn’t feel free to do it. She patted them both on the back and then moved on before either could react.
Father, perhaps sensing the awkwardness of the others, spoke. “Shouldn’t you show them around the place?”
An excellent idea. “Come with me.” She signaled them both to join her and they left the house. “You’ve already seen the barn, so we’ll skip that for now. Behind the house is the garden.” She led the way to the right. “That way is where we grow the crops. Wheat and oats. To the left is the corrals for the horses. That’s Big Harry. He’s a black Clydesdale.” As if they couldn’t see that for themselves. “He’s a gentle giant but Father forbids me to handle him.”
“‘Too much for a wee lassie like you,’” Sawyer quoted getting the accent exactly right.
It sounded so funny coming from his mouth that Carly laughed.
Her gaze caught his and refused to move on. His lips barely lifted. But she decided she would call it a smile. His eyes lightened as if humor had caught him by surprise.
She shifted his attention to Jill just in time to catch a fleeting grin.
Feeling rather pleased with their reaction, she pointed past the corrals. “Our ranch runs down to the river. We have a hundred head of cows. I try and keep them close to home rather than let them roam too far afield. It’s still open range.”
“Grass looks good,” Sawyer said.
Jill headed for the barn and they followed her. They reached the building in time to see her disappear up the ladder into the loft.
Sawyer looked after her. “I never know if I should try and control her or let her find her own way.”
She didn’t know if he was asking for her opinion but she offered it anyway. “I remember hearing Mother tell young mothers that they should give their children enough freedom to learn things but not enough they could get hurt.”
He nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
They wandered up the alley, looking at the dozen pens, stopping at the tack room to examine the harnesses. He checked the collar Big Harry would wear to pull the farm implements.
“It’s in good shape. It appears your Father is a careful man.”
She chuckled. “He is that. Especially careful not to throw anything away.” She indicated the tangle of leather scraps in the corner.
Sawyer glanced at them and this time she knew he smiled though it disappeared before he looked her direction. Still, she felt more than a little pleased with herself.
It was time to return to the house and prepare supper. Time to let him learn what sort of cook she was.
*
Sawyer felt rather pleased with himself. He’d made her laugh. And no amount of telling himself he didn’t care changed the fact that it made him feel good. She’d laughed at him imitating her father’s accent, too. Maybe he was getting good at this.
The thought scared him and he turned to study the harnesses hung neatly from pegs, oiled and polished. He perceived he had landed in a family that showed care and concern in every
day things. And likely in big, occasional things, too. The way Carly quoted her mother filled him with reassurance. As if his own mother spoke through her.
He spoke almost as if in a dream. “I can’t remember my mother very well but I do recall something she said often. ‘Look for sunshine and you’ll find rays even on a cloudy day. Look for darkness and you’ll find it even on the sunniest of days.’” He couldn’t think why he had told her that or even why he had remembered it. Except there was something about Carly’s sunny nature that brought it to remembrance.
She smiled brightly, sending a shaft of light into his dormant heart and stirring it to life.
He wasn’t sure he wanted that to happen and yet he wasn’t ready to refuse it either.
She tipped her head. “Didn’t you say you were seven when your mother and brother perished?”
“I was.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But you said you regretted standing by and not doing anything. What could a seven-year-old do?”
His heart died a thousand deaths. He’d told her too much. Should have guessed she’d see the flaw in his confession. “Pa tried to get in to save them. It took three men to hold him back. I just stood there shaking with fear as the flames licked at the walls and consumed the roof. I was too afraid to even try. It wasn’t right for me to be more concerned with my own safety than rescuing them.”
Her smile left her mouth but not her eyes and the look she gave him felt like a caress. “Sawyer, do you think your mother would have wanted you to perish, too?”
The question stunned him. He’d never considered it.
“If she could see you, I’m sure she’d be so happy to see you all grown up. Jill’s parents will also be happy she’s alive and will grow up and have children of her own.”
“Pa was never the same after. Not until he met Judith.” He’d shut Sawyer out. As if he couldn’t bear to see a surviving son while his other had died.
“We’ve all lost so much. Why don’t we do our best to help each other find joy in what our lives are now?”
“I don’t have much to offer. But if you’ll help Jill…” She already had by offering encouraging words and touches. His shoulder warmed where her hand had rested briefly so he knew it felt good. Just what Jill needed.