Читать книгу Handpicked Husband - Winnie Griggs - Страница 13

Chapter Five

As Adam followed Ira and Jack around the cabin, he studied the older man, trying to sort through the jumble of contradictory impressions he presented.

Though nearly bald and sporting a chin full of gray whiskers, the housekeeper’s husband was as spry as a schoolboy. His leathery skin and crow’s feet were offset by eyes that shone as blue and clear as a newborn’s.

Slightly built and a head shorter than Adam, he had a puckish quality about him. Maybe it had something to do with that glint of a gold tooth Adam had spotted earlier, or with the abundance of laugh lines bracketing his mouth.

A flash of color distracted Adam from his musings.

What in the world...

He stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the exotic contraption perched beside the small feed crib.

It was a wagon, he finally decided. But he’d never seen its like outside of a circus parade. To call it gaudy was doing it a kindness.

From this angle, only the back and part of one side was visible, but it was enough. More than enough. Not only was the caravan-style conveyance painted in garish shades of green, maroon and gold, but it was constructed in an overblown design, complete with exuberant scrollwork and elaborately carved panels.

“What kind of rig is that?”

Adam tore his gaze away from the flamboyant sight long enough to glance at Mitchell over his shoulder. The man wore a bemused, dumbfounded expression. Adam realized his own was probably similar.

“Looks like a circus wagon,” he said, stroking Trib’s nose. “Though what it’s doing out here—”

Ira, dusting his hands after sliding the fishing poles up under the eaves of the crib, grinned. “I see you spied Reggie’s photography wagon. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”

Photography wagon? Adam led Trib forward with a click of his tongue. “Did she inherit it from her father?”

The balding leprechaun cackled. “You didn’t know Reggie’s daddy, did you? Warren Nash would never have been caught driving such a fanciful contraption as this. Plain and simple was more his style.”

Ira Peavy patted the wagon as if it were an old friend. “No, Reggie designed this herself after one of them traveling circuses passed through here.”

She’d actually intended it to look like this? Miss Nash was either as bereft of taste as she was of singing ability, or she had a wicked sense of humor.

“It’s the fanciest wagon in all of Turnabout,” Jack announced proudly. “Everyone stops to stare when we pass by.”

“That I’ll believe,” Mitchell muttered.

“So, your aunt’s a photographer, is she?” Adam asked Jack.

“Yes, sir. Photographs people mostly. But she does plants and animals, too. Some of ’em turn out real pretty.” He gave Adam a big smile. “I’ll bet she’d be glad to take a picture of you and your friends if you wanted.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Adam responded noncommittally. He knew her father had been a photographer, and Judge Madison had mentioned something about her following in her father’s footsteps. But Adam had assumed it was a slightly eccentric pastime of hers, something she toyed with when she was bored, the way other women did with watercolors or the piano.

But if she’d gone to the trouble of designing her own wagon...

“You’ll find feed for the horses over here,” Ira said, interrupting Adam’s thoughts. “You can water them down by the lake and there’s lots of good grazing there as well. I’m afraid the lean-to is only big enough for our two horses, so you’ll have to tether yours under the trees tonight. Weather’s fair, though, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Mitchell set to work unhitching the horse from the buggy. “We appreciate your hospitality,” he said over his shoulder.

Before Adam could unsaddle Trib, he found Jack at his elbow. “Mighty fine-looking horse you got there, mister.”

The youngster’s words might mimic something he’d heard an adult say, but the look on his face was pure wide-eyed, little-boy awe.

“Thanks.” Adam offered Jack a friendly smile. Winning the boy’s trust was important right now. It might make things easier on both of them later on if this marriage scheme fell apart. “Maybe I’ll let you ride him sometime before I head back to Philadelphia,” he added.

Jack’s face split in a wide grin. “Jiminy! Did you hear that, Ira? Dewey Jenkins is gonna be toad-green jealous when he sees me riding this horse.”

“I heard,” Ira answered. “But don’t forget you’ve got to get your Aunt Reggie to agree first.”

Adam frowned, studying Ira’s expression. Had he said that because Miss Nash was overly cautious where her nephew was concerned? Or had the older man picked up on the fact that she distrusted Adam and wouldn’t think highly of any plan he put forward that involved Jack?

Jack, however, seemed unworried. “Aw, Aunt Reggie won’t mind. She was talking the other day about how I was the man of the family now and all.”

Ira squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll see.” Then he gave the boy a mild swat on the seat of his pants. “Now off with you and fetch that kindling like your aunt asked. Don’t want to be holding up supper.”

With a nod and a wave, Jack headed for the wood stacked near the cabin’s back door.

Ira waited until the boy was out of earshot, then turned to Adam and Mitchell. Nothing puckish about him now. His arms crossed unyieldingly over his chest, and his expression gave him a surprisingly dangerous look. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but Reggie obviously didn’t want it talked about in front of Jack. Either one of you fellas care to fill me in?”

Adam shrugged. “We’re here at Judge Madison’s request. Other than that, I think it would be best if you hear the story from Miss Nash herself.”

“Fair enough,” Ira answered. “But there’s something you need to know. I went to work for Warren Nash over thirty years ago. I was around when Reggie was born and I helped Warren take care of her after her momma died. When Warren lay on his deathbed, I gave him my word I’d look after her as if she were my own.” He paused a moment. “And I’m still keeping my word, to this day.”

Adam met his gaze levelly. “Understood.”

Their gazes remained locked for several heartbeats. Then Ira uncrossed his arms and the friendly, amused-at-the-world grin returned. “Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I’ll leave you to care for your animals.” With a wave, he headed around to the front of the cabin, whistling a jaunty tune.

“Did that little gnome just draw a line and dare us to cross it?” Mitchell’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and admiration.

Adam bent to work the straps on Trib’s saddle. “It seems he’s as protective of Miss Nash as his wife is.” He gave Mitchell a sideways glance. “A man could look for worse in a wife than one who inspires such loyalty.”

It was a lesson he himself had learned the hard way.

* * *

“Amen.” Jack finished his prayers and clambered onto his pallet.

Reggie drew the bedsheet up to Jack’s chin, ruffling his soft brown hair as she did so. She’d tried not to roll her eyes when he’d included their four visitors in his litany of people and things to be thankful for.

“So, how did the frogging go tonight?” she asked.

“We bagged a whole sack full of big ole’ bullfrogs.” Jack snuggled down on the pallet. “Mrs. Peavy’s gonna have more’n enough to feed us all tomorrow.”

“And were our visitors much help?”

“Mr. Barr got the hang of it pretty quick and caught his share. And I think maybe Mr. Parker has gone frogging before.” Jack paused and looked at Reggie with wide eyes. “He sure is a big one, isn’t he?”

“That he is,” she said carefully. Did the man’s size intimidate Jack?

Jack, however, merely yawned. “Mr. Dawson seemed to really have fun, but Ira said he had a bad case of the flibbertigibbets.”

“And Mr. Fulton?”

“He just took care of watching the sack for us.” Jack frowned. “I don’t think he likes getting his hands dirty.”

Reggie hid a smile. Only a few hours in their company and it seemed the six-year-old already had the men accurately pegged. “Mr. Fulton probably hasn’t had much experience with outdoor life.”

She patted the covers. “Settle down and get some sleep. I’m going to see if Mrs. Peavy or Ira need any help settling our guests in.”

Reggie gave Jack a quick peck on the cheek, then turned and climbed down the loft ladder. “Well,” she said as she stepped off the bottom rung, “where are our visitors?”

Mrs. Peavy set down a bundle of sheets and blankets on the dining table. “Mr. Barr herded them outside. He insisted they allow us some privacy to settle in.” She gave Reggie a questioning look. “They’re not used to roughing it the way we are. It don’t feel neighborly making them sleep on the floor while we take the ticking.”

Reggie shrugged. “It’s not as if we have much else to offer.” She raised a hand. “And don’t even think about offering up your and Ira’s bed. It’s not big enough for all of them anyway.” She pulled the pins from her hair and shook it free. Ahh, that felt good. “Besides, it’s just for one night. They’ll survive.”

“Confound it!”

The British-accented exclamation, accompanied by the sound of a slap, easily penetrated the netting-covered windows.

“Hang propriety, Barr,” Mr. Fulton grumbled. “These mosquitoes are as big as bats and thick as an English fog. We’re getting eaten alive out here.”

“For once I agree.”

That sounded like the young Mr. Dawson.

“Take a step toward that door before I say you can,” Adam replied pleasantly, “and I’ll see that you sleep out here with your winged friends tonight.”

Reggie raised a brow. She hadn’t expected such gallantry from Adam.

“Sounds like your grandfather picked the right man for the job,” Ira remarked.

Reggie reluctantly agreed.

Mrs. Peavy tsked and made shooing motions. “Now stop this dawdling, both of you. We may not be able to offer them more than a floor tonight, but there’s no need to make them suffer more than necessary.”

Reggie nodded and climbed back up the ladder. She could tell by the sound of Jack’s breathing he was already asleep. Changing for bed, she lay down on her own straw-stuffed ticking. A second later, Ira dimmed the lamp and invited the men back inside.

Reggie stared at the rafters in the shadowy moonlight and listened to the men bedding down on the floor just scant feet below her.

If her grandfather had his way, one of these strangers would soon be her husband, would have the right to share her life.

Reggie rolled to her side and cradled her cheek on one arm, trying to encourage her weary body to relax enough for sleep to overtake her.

Unbidden, the memory of being caught up in Adam’s arms as she tripped tiptoed into her thoughts. For a few moments this afternoon she’d once more been that moonstruck schoolgirl who considered him a white knight.

Stop it! Remember what’s at stake.

Reggie flopped over and fluffed up her pillow. She closed her eyes and forced herself to remember Adam saying I’ll be scrupulously, might I say ruthlessly, single-minded.

She didn’t doubt for a minute he’d meant every syllable of his vow.

Some masculine grumbling drifted up from below. If the unimaginable happened and she had to actually make a choice, which man would she end up with?

Heavenly Father, I know I’ve been mostly a disappointment to You, but please help me figure out how to handle this. If not for me, then for Jack’s sake. I couldn’t stand to see him hurt by any of this.

As Reggie finally drifted off to a troubled sleep, her three suitors whirled through her dreams, twirling her in a dizzying square-dance.

And above it all stood Adam Barr, playing the fiddle and calling the moves.

* * *

Adam trailed behind Chance as they climbed the footpath from the lake to the cabin in the early morning light. The kid had more of a spring to his step now than when they had headed down just past dawn. Apparently the night spent on the cabin floor hadn’t done any permanent damage.

Chance had even perked up enough to whistle.

Adam tightened his grip on his shaving gear, sourly wondering what his companion had to be so cheery about. He certainly didn’t find the situation any more palatable today than yesterday. In fact, if anything, he was more eager to get this assignment over and done with than before.

The members of this unorthodox household had been unfailingly polite to their guests last night. But all through the simple supper and homey conversation, Adam had felt like a boorish trespasser, an infidel invading a peace-loving land. It was as if Regina had gone out of her way to show the four “Easterners” just what a happy home they were about to invade and destroy.

Adam nearly slammed into Chance as the young man halted in the middle of the trail.

“What—” Chance’s bit off exclamation ended in a long drawn-out whistle.

Adam, peering past the startled young man, grinned wryly. While they were down at the lake getting cleaned up for breakfast, Ira had driven the gaudy wagon around to the front of the cabin.

Here in the bright morning sunlight it presented an even more startling spectacle than it had in the evening shade yesterday. For one thing, he could see the front now. The wagon’s roof extended over the seat, shading a pale pink upholstered bench. The sides extended past that same seat in a double set of quarter-moon-like scallops. It made the driver’s box appear to be the inside of some exotic seashell. Combined with its other flamboyant features, the vehicle had all the finesse of a clown at a funeral.

“I see you’ve noticed my studio on wheels.”

Regina, arms wrapped around a small crate, stepped down from the porch. She handled her awkward burden with more ease than Adam normally expected from a woman. It should have made her appear mannish. Instead, it gave her a sort of stately grace.

“Quite striking, don’t you think?”

It took him a heartbeat to realize she was talking about the wagon. Clearing his throat, he reined in his wayward thoughts. And realized her eyes glinted with the hint of mischief.