“Angel’s messin’ with it.” He snagged the first plate Angel dished up.
Angel’s cheeks went a beguiling scarlet as she gave Jarrod an apologetic look. He continued to stand until Angel had food on both of the other tin plates. “You’re a clever lass to be gardening, Miss Taylor. Why, canned vegetables and fruits were higher than ten cats’ backs. I bought me some seeds, hopin’ to come up wi’ sufficient to keep my slats apart.”
She tried to give him his plate, but he still held a cup in each hand. Jarrod chortled as he turned his palm upward and held both cups in that one hand. “There, then. I think we can make a go of this.”
Once Angel sat on an overturned crate, Jarrod perched on the tree stump and smiled at her. She lowered her lashes in an innately modest reaction, but it wasn’t for prayer, because she grabbed her fork. Ben was already eating, so Jarrod came to the realization that they didn’t bless their food. He quietly bowed his head and said a silent grace.
“These are the first dandelion greens for the year,” he said in appreciation.
“‘Bout time we had something different.” Ben scooped up a forkful of food. “Sick of eating this rice.”
“To my way of thinkin’, rice always tastes good—but this gravy on it makes it better still.” Jarrod helped himself to another bite. “Looks like you used some kind of herbs on the rabbit.”
“I had a little basil and rosemary dried from last year.”
“The mercantile owner’s wife insisted I take a packet of herbs,” Jarrod said. “Only thing I know to do is use cayenne to keep animals from digging into the garden or henhouse.”
“I could give you a few pointers on what herbs are suited to different things,” Angel offered.
“I’d be much obliged. I figure since my cabin’s finished, I’ll pan for a few days, then put in the garden.”
Angel leaned forward. “Did you hear that, Father?” Her voice sounded a bit strained. “Mr. McLeod has already built himself a fine little log cabin. It’ll be so warm and safe.”
“I tole you afore, no use wastin’ time on those projects when we got us our tents.”
Jarrod looked at the pair of tents. The canvas looked old and tired. He seriously doubted it could last through the sun and snow of another year without rotting clean through. “I’d be willing to spend a day or two to help you. If we gathered a few other men, we could have a wee place—”
“Not interested,” Ben interrupted. “Satisfied with how things stand.”
“Well I’m not.” Angel clenched her hands in her lap. “Mama needs better shelter, and I don’t want to be cold and hungry anymore.”
“You ain’t cold. You already changed into your dry skirt. Got plenty of blankets, don’t you?”
Jarrod gave her a startled look. “Your mother is here?”
Angel stared at Jarrod pleadingly. “She’s sick—terribly sick—and needs decent shelter. What could I trade you? I’ll sew for you. I’ll do your laundry forever—”
Ben raised his hand. “Hold on here. You git paid for them chores so’s we can buy vittles. Cain’t go givin’ away valu’ble work.”
“I’m making a fair barter.”
Jarrod frowned. “I shouldn’t think it would cause discord for me to lend a hand so your wife has decent lodging.”
“It’s been a sore point between us since the day we arrived,” Angel said. “I’m sorry you’re having to hear this—”
“You ain’t sorry atall. You’re stirrin’ the pot so’s it’ll boil over and you can git what you want.”
“I’m trying to make a fair trade so I can get what Mama needs.” Angel turned back to Jarrod. “Please—just tell me what you think would be fair.”
Ben lifted the piece of rabbit and bit off a huge mouthful. His glower could start a bonfire. “Go ahead. Me? I don’t need nothin’ other than what I got. Build them somethin’. Mebbe then she’ll quit her whining.”
Chapter 4
“Ach! Now will you be lookin’ at what I did?” Jarrod lifted his right arm and stuck his left forefinger through the rip in his sleeve.
Angel walked over toward the home he’d been working on alone. Never once had her stepfather offered a hand. Every log felled, notched, lifted, and fitted testified to Jarrod’s kindness. Her father insisted he’d never step foot in such a folly and demanded it only be big enough for a bed for Mama and her. She’d agreed—all they needed was a warm place to lay their heads. Jarrod insisted that cutting the logs two or three feet shorter wouldn’t save him any labor, so what she’d thought would be a bitty shack was turning out to be a sound little cabin.
Jarrod’s callused finger wiggled through the ripped fabric. “I did a royal job of tearing this to kingdom come.”
“It’s not so bad.” Angel inspected the damage. “Just a bit of stitching, and it’ll be serviceable for a long time yet.”
“Easy for you to say such a thing. You’ve needles, thread, and talent aplenty. Me? I’m beggared on all three accounts.”
“It’s my cabin you’re making; it’s only right I repair your shirt. I’ll have it done in a trice.”
“Nae, lass. We already struck a fair bargain for my labor.”
She whispered emphatically, “It’s far more than we agreed upon. I was to have a roof over Mama’s head, and you’re making me a–a–a rainbow!”
He chuckled. “If ‘tis a rainbow, the both of you’ll be swimming inside at the first rain if I don’t get that roof on it.” He pulled his finger out of the hole and moved the arm with the torn sleeve behind his back. “You’ll not take a single stitch unless we come to an understanding. Just as your stepfather refuses to be beholden, so do I.”
“Piffle! It’s nothing!”
He pulled away and gave her an indignant look. “Angel, you need to value yourself and your work. God created a wonderful, talented lass in you. Modesty is a fine quality, but denying the value of one of His gems is pure silliness.”
Angel looked up at him and felt an odd glow. How long had it been since anyone told her she was special? Long ago…back before her stepfather moved them here. Her cousins, Philip and Gabe, for all of their teasing, still treated her like a princess. When the day came for her to depart, each of them had managed to pull her away for a moment and say something dear to her. In the everyday scramble and hardship of settling and surviving here, the niceties of compliments disappeared.
Niceties. That was it. Jarrod McLeod managed to bring a touch of gentleness and decency along with him. His rich burr made each word sound important and sincere. Oh, and how he spoke! He’d gone in to meet Mama, and never once did his kind face reflect dismay or disgust at how sallow and frail she was. The big man no more than reached Mama’s cot, and he’d gone down on his knees instead of towering over her. He’d paid his respects as if she were an important lady and the tattered tent were a fine mansion. He’d murmured quietly, given Mama a few sweet moments of pleasant company, then held up her head and given her a sip of broth. Touched to the core of her being at his incredible kindness, Angel barely managed to choke back her tears when he tucked the blankets up as if Mama were his very own.
Better still, each time he came over, he paid Mama a short visit. Ben refused to allow any Bible reading, but Jarrod got around that by quietly reciting a few verses he’d memorized, then he’d whisper a brief prayer that invariably left a smile on Mama’s face.
Now…now he stood here, smiling at Angel and calling her a gem. She’d thought God had forgotten about her. In all of the ugliness of the past years, she’d let her spirits sink. Her relationship with the Almighty had practically dwindled away to nothingness. But here Jarrod stood, calling her a gem of God.
“I’m not a gem,” she blurted out. “Mama and I sometimes pray together, but I don’t think God even listens to us anymore.” She hung her head and wished she hadn’t ruined everything with that confession.
“Lass, our heavenly Father hears you.” Soft as a breeze, Jarrod’s voice reached her, but underneath
the quiet tone was rock-solid certainty. “His children aren’t spared hardship, but He stands beside them in their trials. Your faith might have withered a bit on the vine, but a bit of tending, and it’ll flourish.”
“I wish I had your faith.”
“Faith is for sharing.” He tilted her face up to his. The kindness in his eyes sparked something deep inside. “I’ll gladly share mine with you.”
The rip in his sleeve caught her attention again. “Then I’ll share my needle with you.”
Jarrod’s brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he gave consideration to the matter. Suddenly his eyes brightened and he gave her a cocky grin. “I have it.”
“What do you have?” Oh, why did I ask? I wanted to mend his shirt as a favor—not for gain.
“Well now, I’m hoping you’ll not be offended by my paltry offer. Seeing as you’re restoring wear to my shirt, what if I barter a used skirt for it?”
“A skirt?” What was he doing with a skirt? The very question made her cringe. She’d simply assumed he was alone and unmarried. Could he have a wife waiting for him somewhere?
“My Ella, God bless her soul, was sick a good long while. After she passed on, I just bundled her clothes up.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” No wonder he’s so good with Mama even though she’s ailing. “How long were you married?”
“Married?” He chuckled. “Oh, no. Ella was my sister. We had grand plans to start up a ranch.”
“Then why are you prospecting instead?”
His face went pensive. “After payin’ the doctor’s fees, my pockets were pretty nigh unto empty. I’m not going to spend my whole life standing knee-deep in chilly water, Angel. My dream hasna changed one iota. I’ll stay here only ‘til I have enough to buy me a sweet plot of land.”
“Plenty of men say that, but then they succumb to gold fever.”
He positioned another nail, then hammered it in place with a single, solid whack. “The forefathers of this fine country might hae said all men were created equal, Angel, but that doesna mean they were all created the same. Money isn’t wealth. It canna buy love or happiness or health.”
She stared at him in silence as he worked.
“So?” He turned and looked at her. “Are you willing to accept the barter of a skirt? I’ve three shirts, and I canna afford to lose this one. Sure as the sun rises and the river flows, this rip will race all the way up my poor sleeve. I need the shirt; I certainly dinna have any use for a skirt!”
“Oh Mr. McLeod, I’m sure you could barter it for more than getting a small tear sewn back up.”
His brows veed. “Miss Angel, you’re the only lady hereabouts—excepting your mama, of course. I dinna know a single man who can sew worth sneezing at. Seems to me, since you’re the only one who could barter for the skirt, you can set the price to suit your fancy, and I’d not complain a bit.”
“Mr. McLeod, I don’t believe I have yet to hear a single complaint come out of you.”
He shrugged. “God provides what I need. I’ve a roof o’er my head, clothes on my back, and my daily bread.” He flashed her a smile that made her heart do an odd flip-flop. “And on top of all of those blessings, you’re makin’ that bread, and that means I see a beautiful woman each day.”
“Flatterer.” She knew from the heat that flashed from her bosom to her hair that she must be three shades of scarlet.
“Nae, lass. ‘Tis the honest truth. A fact is a fact, e’en when the telling may cause a comely blush. Now tell me, where are you wanting me to set a wee window in this place?”
She blinked at him in surprise. “A window? I’ve no glass!”
“We can still make do, if you want. I’d just grease paper to fill the hole—it’ll let in light and air on fair weather days, and I’ll make a tight-fitting set of shutters to hold out the cold of winter.”
Her stepfather stomped up. His scowl could scare away a bank of thunderclouds. “Just because he’s here is no excuse for you to slack off. Get on down there and pan.”
“But you said I could work on the garden today!”
“That was ‘fore you wasted the whole mornin’ simpering around this fool. We’re gonna go hungry, and he’ll not have a single grain of gold in his pouch if I leave you two together.”
Angel whirled about and ran to the bank of the creek. Tears blurred her vision as she dipped her pan. Water and silt slopped over the edge as she gave the pan a savage jerk. Thanks to that dreadful man, Mama and I have gone without a roof, wear rags, and skimp on food. Did he have to humiliate me too?
Lord, give me wisdom. I want to slug this man into next year for treating the lass that way.
“The fault was mine. I ripped my sleeve and—”
“She don’t work for free.” Ben glowered at the tear and a spark of greed lit his eyes. “She stitches that up, and you pay.”
“I agree. We came to a fair price.”
“Since when did you have my permission to conduct business with her?”
“You told us to come to an agreement about me building the cabin.” Jarrod slapped the nearest log with the flat of his hand twice. “You can see I’ve been a man of my word.”
“It’s taken you long enough. Whole thing’s foolish. We done just fine without no cabin. Dumb thing’s takin’ up timber I’m gonna need, come winter; and Angel’s wastin’ half her time, tryin’ to fix up fancy vittles since you’re eatin’ with us. She ain’t gotten that garden patch planted and ain’t panning as much. I can’t do all the work myself. We’re gonna go hungry. All ‘cuz of this…” He angrily waved his hand toward the cabin. “This dumb thing.”
The man’s a selfish lout. He’s not caring for his dear wife as he vowed he’d do. He expects that poor lass to launder and garden and pan, but he won’t even put a roof over their heads or give Angel a length of cloth for a skirt. Jarrod straightened his shoulders and clenched his hands into angry fists. He couldn’t abide any man mistreating a woman. Then again, if he took out his temper on Angel’s stepfather, there was always the possibility that Ben would turn on them when Jarrod was gone.
Turn the other cheek, my son. Walk the extra mile.
Jarrod slowly relaxed his shoulders and uncurled his fists. “I’d not want to have my help turn into a hardship. I’ll turn o’er the rest of the gardening plot for you.”
Spluttering in surprise, Ben backed up a step and quickly recovered. Tugging at the hem of his sleeve, he grumbled, “That makes us just about square.”
As Angel’s stepfather walked back to the stream, Jarrod turned back to work. I’ve given my word, and I’ll keep it, Lord. Give me patience and let me be a good witness. But God? I need to be working my own claim. I know I just told Angel that money isn’t everything, and Thou knowest every word I spoke was sincere. But I’m never going to get enough gold to buy my ranch if I let Ben badger me into doing everything here.
He glanced over his shoulder at Angel. Sunlight glinted off her tawny hair. Father, I’d be thinkin’ she’s the real treasure here, and just about any man would be proud to take her to wife. I’m not any man; I’m Thy son. I’d spoil my witness by romancing her heart for myself instead of tending her spirit for Thee. Let me be a light to her and Ben, but don’t let me forsake wisdom because I let my heart run away.
Chapter 5
“Ready?” Jarrod’s eyes sparkled as he gently scooped Mama into his arms.
“Mama, just wait and see.” Angel hurriedly folded up Mama’s cot and rushed out of the tent. A stone’s throw away, the new cabin promised sound shelter, and she hastily set the cot in the back corner where it would be warmest and the sunlight could shine through the window to give Mama brighter days.
Jarrod followed along. Cradling Mama as if she were his very own mother, he murmured, “Here you are, now.”
Mama rested her head on his shoulder and managed to whisper, “Oh, thank you, Mr. McLeod. God bless you.” Those few words started her coughing and stole her energy.
“You’re
more than welcome, and God does bless me.” He turned sideways to fit Mama into the doorway without bumping her and chuckled. “I’ve never carried a woman over a threshold before. I’m supposing you’d best start calling me by my given name.”
Angel wanted to thank Jarrod again, but as soon as he settled Mama on her cot, he headed back to work his own claim. Maybe that was for the best. She and Mama spent a few moments of peace and joy together, and for the first time in ages, Angel took Mama’s hand and said a prayer of thanks.
Ben hadn’t bothered to offer his help with anything at all; he snorted and snarled the whole while from his place by the creek. Bless his heart, Harv Bestler had crossed the creek and helped Jarrod lift the last logs on the walls and put on the roof. Angel didn’t know whether to be thankful for the help of her neighbors or angry at her stepfather for his black-hearted ways. Though it didn’t seem possible, he grew more surly with each passing day. He’d netted a fish for supper, but if it fed two children, they’d both leave the table hungry. Still, he’d declared he’d done his fair share and caught his own supper. To her mortification, he hadn’t just said it, he’d bellowed every last word.
Harv looked across the stream at the little fish. His voice, rich with sarcasm, boomed back from the other side of the creek, “Now there’s a nice change. I always like to hear good news.”
Though Jarrod had gone back to his own claim, she knew he had to hear the selfish, mean-spirited boast too. All of an hour or so later, Jarrod returned. His knees and sleeves were wet, and a few wood shavings freckled his hair. Without saying a word, he set down a rope-handled bucket and left. The two modest-sized trout he’d brought now sizzled in the frying pan.
She crossed the creek and asked Harv to join all of them for supper, but he whispered, “Ask me some night when Jarrod isn’t there. He’s a fine man—don’t get me wrong—but I’d rather you had one or the other of us with you at two suppers than both of us at once. That way, you don’t have to get indigestion by eating alone with Ben.”
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