Читать книгу The Cowboy Comes Home - Linda Ford - Страница 7

Sally pulled a tray of cookies from the familiar oven of home and scooped them to a rack to cool. Ginger cookies perfectly rounded, nicely browned with a sprinkling of sugar. She was a good cook. Yet she experienced so many failures at the Finley place. She must be trying too hard. She sucked in spicy air and pushed her frustration to the bottom of her stomach. She needed to remember she was a child of God, and as such had His approval. “I’ll take these over to the Johanssons as soon as they cool,” she said to her mother. “I’m sorry to hear the mother is still not feeling well.” Mrs. Johansson hadn’t regained her strength after the birth of daughter number five. “The children will appreciate fresh cookies.”

“How did your day go at the Finleys’?” Mother glanced up from sewing a button on a sweater.

Sally didn’t want to trouble her mother with tales of her struggles with Robbie and news of a ruined meal. “There was a man at Mrs. Shaw’s.”

“Really? How do you know that?”

“I saw him out in the corrals. He showed Robbie his horse. Big Red, he’s called.”

Mother studied her with watchful eyes.

Fearing her expression would reveal more than she wanted, Sally shaped more cookies.

“So you met this man?”

Sally nodded. “When I went to bring Robbie back. His name is Linc McCoy. I thought I’d heard the name before but can’t place it.”

“The McCoys are back?” Mother sounded as if a murderer had escaped into their presence.

“I only saw the one. Are there more?”

Mother pushed to her feet and strode to the window. “I don’t suppose you know the story. It was fresh when we first moved but died down shortly after.”

Sally stared at her mother’s back. “What did they do?”

Mother faced her and sighed. “Mrs. Ogilvy kept some expensive jewelry in her home.”

Sally waited for more. Everyone knew Mrs. Ogilvy to be the richest lady in town. She lived in a big house at the opposite end of the street from where Mr. Finley lived. She lived alone except for a woman who came in to help care for the house. Mrs. Ogilvy had once ruled Golden Prairie society but had been ill for the past couple years. She was on the mend now and again dominating social activities. Why, at Christmas she’d instigated a town party for everyone, including hobos from their shelter down by the tracks. Sally had even heard Mrs. Ogilvy allowed some of them to live in the old coach house she no longer used. Sally liked the woman who used her worldly goods to help others.

Mother sighed and continued with her story. “Mrs. Ogilvy’s jewels went missing. It was never proven, but all the evidence pointed toward the McCoys. They were known as the kind of people who—” Mother stopped. “I don’t like to speak ill of others, but from what I understand they had sticky fingers.”

“The McCoys?” This news didn’t fit with the relaxed, smiling man she’d met. “How many were there?”

“A father and two sons—the younger several years younger than the older.”

“What do they have to do with Mrs. Shaw?”

“Mrs. McCoy was Mrs. Shaw’s daughter. Her only child. She came home to die of cancer.” Mother shook her head sadly. “I can’t imagine how she must feel to lose her daughter, then have her grandsons and son-in-law branded criminals.”

“But you said they were never convicted.”

“No, they weren’t, but people believed it was only because of poor police work. They left town to avoid the censure of the community.”

Sally pulled out another tray of baked cookies and put them to cool, then slipped a tray of unbaked ones into the oven, welcoming the chance to contemplate all her mother said.

“You say you met Linc McCoy? I’m not certain but I think he was the youngest son. From what I recall, about fifteen or sixteen when they left town.”

“They might be innocent. You know what gossip is like.”

Mother crossed to Sally’s side. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I don’t want you feeling sorry for this man. It would not serve your purpose to get involved with him. Whether or not they’ve stolen the jewels, their name carries trouble.”

Sally met her mother’s eyes without flinching. She understood what Mother meant. People would likely feel the same way about the McCoys now as they had back then. She shifted her gaze. The lowering sun shone through the west window, highlighting the ever present dust in the air. Through the window, she studied the struggling garden. “I need to take water to the garden.” She’d saved the dishwashing water. “I’ll feed the chickens as soon as I finish the cookies.”

Mother returned to her sewing, knowing they were in agreement. Sally would do nothing to besmirch her reputation or put her security at risk. She’d avoid Linc McCoy, which shouldn’t be hard.

Mother paused. “I wonder what brought them back.”

Sally wondered if all of them had returned. She’d seen only Linc—the man who seemed to think life was for enjoyment.

Well, so did she, only she liked to enjoy it on her terms. She recalled one of her memory verses. A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold.

She could well say, rather than Mrs. Ogilvy’s jewels.

She wanted nothing more to do with Linc McCoy and the shady doings associated with his family.

Sally slipped into the Finley kitchen and began breakfast preparations. Overhead, she heard the family rising. They would soon descend—Carol ready for school, Abe dressed and groomed for his job and Robbie with his eyes silently challenging her.

She sighed. She and Robbie would become friends sooner or later. She just wished it would be sooner.

A short while later, the children descended, Abe’s hand firmly on Robbie’s stubborn shoulder. Carol was dressed for school, not a seam out of place. From the beginning she insisted she could manage her hair on her own and did a fine job. Robbie wore wrinkled overalls with threadbare knees. If she didn’t miss her guess, his shirt was buttoned crookedly, but she would ignore it unless Abe insisted it be corrected. Abe was even neater than Carol, as if he’d pressed his suit while on his body so not a crease was out of place. Freshly shaven, smelling of bay rum with his dark brown hair brushed back. One thing about Abe: he knew how to make the most of his looks, and there was no denying he was a good-looking man and well respected—a good Christian, a devout churchgoer, a man of honor.

Sally recited his attributes as she dished up porridge and poured Abe a cup of coffee. She hated the stuff, preferring a pot of well-steeped tea, but had learned to make a brew to satisfy his requirements. She’d eaten with Mother before leaving home but sat with the family and drank tea as they ate.

Abe left as soon as he finished. He spared them all a hurried goodbye.

Sally found it easier to smile once he’d gone, even though she still found his rushed exits strange. Her father had hugged each of the girls and kissed Mother when he left the house. He always had a kind word for them. She’d told herself several times it wasn’t fair to any man to compare him to Father, and yet she wished Abe would at least read a chapter from the Bible and pray with the children before he left for the day.

At first, she’d debated with herself as to whether she should take on the responsibility. The deciding factor had been that she should begin as she expected to go on, and if she were to become a permanent part of this home, Bible reading and prayer were what she wanted.

But rather than read from the family Bible, she brought a series of Bible stories on cards with pictures on one side and text on the other that she’d collected in her Sunday school days. She chose the next in the stack to read.

Carol listened intently. Robbie fidgeted, wanting to leave but knowing Sally would insist he stay. They’d fought that battle the first day and Sally had won, knowing she must.

She made her prayer short, asking for the children and their father to be safe. In her heart, she prayed she could live up to expectations and not let foolish thoughts distract her. And why the thought shaped into a grinning man in a cowboy hat, she wouldn’t let herself consider.

Carol departed a short time later then Sally turned to Robbie. “Play out back where I can see you.”

She washed dishes and put together soup for dinner when both Abe and Carol would come home. Every few minutes she glanced out the window to check on Robbie. He’d dug a hole in the end of the garden and used the dirt to construct a barrier, no doubt hoping to build a place where he could hide from his troublesome world.

Sally grinned. After Father died she’d done the same, only she’d had the loft of the barn where she used loose hay to encircle a little patch where she took her books and an old school notebook, in which she wrote copious amounts of purple prose full of emotionally charged words like hopelessness, emptiness and loneliness. She had felt safe and secure in that little place.

Forbidden, her gaze sought the area across the alley. Quickly, telling herself she was only allowing her eyes a chance to look into the distance, she glanced to the corrals, past them to the bit of yard within her view. Maybe he had left again. No reason such a thought should make her sad. She snorted as several of the words she’d used in her loft hiding place resurrected.

The soup simmered on the stove. She mixed up baking powder biscuits to go with it.

Another glance out the window showed the Shaw yard still empty and Robbie struggling to build his dirt walls higher. The soil was so dry it sifted into a slack pile.

Remembering her own efforts to create a safe place, she ached for the little boy. Hoping he wouldn’t be angry at her interruption, she hurried outside. “I can show you how to build higher walls if you like.”

He didn’t move for a full three seconds.

She knew he warred with a desire to dismiss her and frustration over dealing with the piles of dirt.

“How?” He made certain to sound as if he was doing her a favor.

“I saw some scraps of lumber in the shed. I think you could use them to provide support. Come. I’ll show you.”

He followed her to the shed and allowed her to fill his arms with bits of lumber.

Back in the garden, she drove the thinner pieces into the ground as uprights and showed him how to place the wider pieces against them and hold them in place with the dirt. As they worked, she told him about the place she’d made in the loft.

She heard a horse trot down the alley and kept her gaze averted to the count of five before she glanced up. Linc on Big Red rode toward the center of town.

He nodded at them, grinning. “Playing in the dirt, I see.”

She tossed her hair out of her eyes. “We’re building.”

“What are you building?”

“I’m not sure. Robbie, what are we building?”

“A fort.” He didn’t pause from scooping dirt against the walls.

Linc looked from Robbie to Sally, paused a moment then returned to Robbie. “What sort of fort?”

“To keep out the bad guys.”

For a moment Linc didn’t move, didn’t say anything and his grin seemed narrower. “Guess we all need a safe place.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Perhaps I’ll see you later.”

Sally waited until he rode out of sight then pushed to her feet. “I have to check on dinner. Call me if you need any help.”

Robbie kept shoveling dirt.

We all need a safe place. Exactly her sentiments. She paused outside the door and studied the house. A good solid house. A safe place? She glanced over her shoulder. Safer than a man on horseback who dropped in from who-knows-where and would likely drop back out as quickly and silently.

She hurried indoors and put the biscuits in the oven to bake.

The meal was ready when Abe stepped into the house. The table was set neatly. She’d put the soup in a pretty tureen in the middle of the table and arranged the biscuits on a nice platter. She’d even found a glass dish for the butter.

Robbie had come in without arguing. He’d dusted his clothes and washed his face and hands. Hardly any evidence remained of his morning spent playing in the dirt.

Sally was satisfied the meal looked as good as it smelled. Everything was done to perfection. As she’d taken care of the many details of creating this meal, she’d taken care of one other thing—sorting out her thoughts. She needed a safe place and this was it. Nothing could be allowed to take that away from her. Especially not a man on a horse.

They all took their places and without any warning, Abe bowed and said grace.

It still startled Sally the way he did it. Father had always said, “Let us pray.” And waited for them all to fold their hands and bow their heads.

Abe did things differently. Nothing wrong with that.

He ate in silence for a few minutes, then, as he broke open another biscuit and drenched it in butter and jam, he said, “I hired a man to work on the barn. I want it converted to a proper garage. The yard could do with some cleaning up, too, so I gave him instructions to fix the fence out back, prune the apple trees and generally take care of the chores.”

“I see.” Abe was one of a handful of people who could afford to pay someone to do repair work for them.

“I don’t have time to show him around so perhaps you would do so. Give him access to the tools in the shed. Make him feel welcome. Perhaps offer him coffee in the middle of the afternoon. That sort of thing.”

“Will he be taking meals with us?”

“I shouldn’t think so. He lives close by.”

She quickly did a mental inventory on the neighbors, wondering which one had been so favored by Abe.

“I think he’s down on his luck. As a Christian man I feel it my duty to give him a helping hand.”

That tidbit didn’t help her. Most of the families in town were having trouble making ends meet.

He pushed back and reached for his hat. “He said he’d come over after lunch. It would please me if you helped him in any way you can.”

Sally waited, expecting a name, but Abe headed for the door. “Wait. You didn’t say who was coming.”

“Oh, didn’t I? Sorry. It’s Linc McCoy. He’s staying at his grandmother’s just next door.” He pointed toward the farm.

Sally’s heart quivered. Linc was coming here to work? Abe expected her to help him? The man did strange things to her equilibrium. Things she didn’t like or welcome.

Abe must have read her hesitation. “There have been cruel rumors about him in the past. This morning I saw Linc in the store asking after a job and overheard some not-so-kind-hearted women saying no one in town would hire the likes of him. Not a very Christian attitude in my opinion. I believe our church should do what it can to dispel such unkindness. As a deacon I intend to take the lead. I hope I have your support.”

“Of course.” Thankfully her voice didn’t reveal her confusion. “It’s very noble of you to give this man a chance.”

Her praise brought a pleased smile to Abe’s lips.

Sally vowed she would do what she could to help Abe’s cause.

Linc considered this job an answer to prayer—an opportunity to earn money to buy more medicine for Pa, but even more, the chance to prove a McCoy could be trusted. Grandmama seemed troubled by the job offer and warned Linc that Sally’s association with him, even indirectly, could harm her reputation. He understood her warning and was prepared to stay as far away from Sally as the large yard allowed. But Abe had told him to go to the house for instructions on where to find tools.

He first toured the yard, noting all the things needing attention. Abe wanted the barn converted to a garage for his car. Linc went inside to study what it needed.

“What are you doing here?” Robbie asked from the dark interior.

“Looking.”

“At what?”

“The barn.”

“You never seen a barn before?”

“Oh, yeah. Lots of them. I could tell you all sorts of stories about barns.”

“Nothing special about barns.”

“Nope. Guess not. Seems a shame to take the stalls out though.”

Robbie emerged from the shadows. “Why you going to do that?”

“So your father can park his car in here.”

Robbie made a rumbling noise with his lips. “I’d sooner have a horse.”

“Me, too, little guy.”

They stood side by side in shared sorrow at the way horses were being replaced with automobiles and tractors.

Linc moved first. “I need to ask Miss Sally to show me the tools. Want to come along?”

“Yep.”

Linc wasn’t sure who needed the other the most. He, to keep his thoughts in order when he spoke to Sally, or Robbie, who seemed to crave attention, but together they marched to the back door. Robbie stood by his side as Linc knocked.

Sally opened the door. “Mr. Finley said to expect you. He said I should show you what needs doing.”

Linc backed up two steps. Robbie followed suit, though not likely for the same reason. Linc did it to gain a safety zone. Even so, he felt her in every muscle. She smelled like home cooking and fresh laundry, the most appealing scent he’d ever experienced.

She slipped through the doorway. “I’ll show you around.”

I’ve already looked about. The words were in his brain but refused to budge. Instead he nodded, and he and Robbie fell in at her side.

She led him to the back corner of the yard. “Mr. Finley said the crab apple trees should be pruned.”

Robbie climbed one of the trees and sat in a fork, pretending he had a spyglass as he looked out across the yard.

Linc and Sally stood under the scraggly trees that were shedding the last of their blossoms and trying to bud, finding it difficult because of the lack of moisture. He examined the three trees. “Lots of dead branches that need to come out.”

She nodded. “I figure they must be tough as an old cowhide to survive the drought and wind and grasshoppers. Especially the grasshoppers. The little pests have gnawed most of the trees to death around here.”

“Then I guess they deserve lots of care.”

He turned from examining the branches. She stood under a flowering bough. Their gazes collided. Her eyes were wide and watchful. Wary even. No doubt she had heard about the McCoys by now. “You know I’m Beatrice Shaw’s grandson?”

She nodded. “My mother told me.”

“Did she tell you about the McCoys?”

Sally’s gaze never faltered. “She said your mother had died and you have a father and older brother.”

“My brother is dead, too. In a mining accident.”

“I’m sorry.” She brushed his arm with her cool fingers then jerked back, as if she was also aware of the tension between them.

“Pa was injured, too. That’s why I’m here. To let him rest and recover.” He clung to the hope Pa would get better.

“How is he?”

“Not good.”

“Again, I’m sorry. If there is anything I can do to help….”

He stood stock-still, letting her concern filter through him. Not many around here knew of the accident. No reason to hide the fact but no reason to tell it either. He didn’t want or expect sympathy—just a fair chance to prove the McCoys were an okay bunch. Yet the way her eyes filled with regret and concern made him realize how much he wanted to share his sorrow.

He leaned against a tree. “I was working on a ranch when I got word about the accident. Harris—that’s my brother—was killed outright. Pa was in terrible shape. I made arrangements to bury Harris.” He told her details of the funeral. “It was ten days before Pa was able to travel. The doctor out there said to take him home so he could die in his own surroundings. Grandmama’s place is the only home we’ve ever had so I brought him here.”

She listened to his whole story without uttering a word, but murmuring comforting sounds.

He fell silent, feeling a hundred pounds lighter having told her. Suddenly he jerked upright. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you the story of my life.”

She laughed softly. “I expect there’s more to your life than that and I didn’t mind. Helps me understand.”

He didn’t ask what it helped her understand, and she didn’t explain. Perhaps they both knew the answer without speaking it—his tale helped her understand him, just as sharing it helped him understand how kind and sympathetic she was. He had never before felt so comfortable with another human. Sure, he had unburdened himself to the occasional horse—Red heard lots of his woes—but never before to another person, and most certainly not to a woman.

Grandmama warned him she was a genuinely gentle person. Now he understood what she meant.

Guilt flared through his blood, searing his nerve endings. He glanced over his shoulder as if Grandmama watched.