Montana Bride by Christmas Page 8
“Come on. This is for you.”
The pup edged closer, wary, ready to retreat if she did anything to indicate she posed a risk.
She kept very still, waiting. The pup reached the bowl and ate eagerly. She patted his head, pleased when he didn’t shy away. “I wonder if someone is missing their pet.” Perhaps she’d slip away and leave a message with Uncle George who ran the store. He’d find out if the pup belonged to anyone.
In the meantime, she’d see that the animal was cared for.
She glanced toward the house. How did Hugh feel about dogs indoors? She had no idea. How would Evan react? She couldn’t begin to guess.
“I think it would be best if you stay outside for now but I’ll leave the door to the shed open and you can get out of the wind.”
She got him to follow her into the shed by taking the bowl inside. She found a horse blanket and put it on the floor. The puppy sniffed at it then sank down with a sigh. A grateful sigh, she thought.
She filled her arms with more wood, grabbed the empty bucket and returned to the kitchen.
Hugh waited until she’d unloaded her arms then pushed to his feet. “I’ll be in my office.”
She watched him out of sight then released a long, soft sigh.
“Annie, have you two fought?” Grandfather barely waited until Hugh was behind his door to speak.
“Of course not. Why would you think so?”
“He barely spoke a word this morning. And you’re very quiet too.”
“Me? I talked the whole time.”
“Not to each other. Girl, if you plan to marry him you need to learn to talk to him.” He sat back and gave her squinty-eyed consideration. “Could it be you are already seeing the foolishness of such an arrangement?”
She gave him look for look. “I believe I am needed here.” She indicated Evan whom she knew would be listening to every word and perhaps wondering if she planned to stay. “Besides, the arrangement suits me.”
Grandfather leaned back and rumbled his lips in despair. “Girl, it ain’t healthy to deny yourself love.”
Not prepared to argue with the man she respected so much, she tried to ignore him.
Not that she could hope he’d let it go.
“Annie, what are you up to?”
“I thought I’d wash up the dishes.”
Grandfather grunted. “I think we’ve been guilty of spoiling you so that you can’t see past this momentary whim.”
His assessment of her stung. How could he see this as a selfish desire? She could—and would—take very good care of Hugh and Evan. She responded to something else he said. “Spoiling me? Is that what you call it when I cooked and cleaned and did laundry for five men and a little girl?”
He looked slightly uncomfortable at that. “You know what I mean. You were allowed to run free with Carly. You’ll not have the same kind of freedom here. Hugh’s the preacher and has a certain reputation to maintain.”
She let out a gusty breath. “You made it sound like I was wild and crazy.”
“Who is outside?”
She glanced at the window to see who had come up the walk then realized he had noticed the bowl of food she’d taken out. She could honestly say, “No one.” To signal the conversation was over, she began to wash the dishes, her back to him.
Evan shifted. What did the poor little guy think of all this? If only she could tell.
Recalling the puppy outside gave her an idea and she began to tell a story for Evan’s sake.
“Once upon a time, there was a little black-and-white puppy with big floppy ears and a spot over his right eye. His name was Spot.” How was that for original? “Spot was an unusual dog. You see, he thought he was a little boy.” She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see if she had Evan’s interest. He looked at the floor by her feet, his whole body alert.
Satisfied that he listened, she continued. “Spot sat at the table just like a boy. He couldn’t use the fork and knife, but he put a paw on each and pretended he could.” She continued spinning a yarn about a dog pretending to be a boy, hoping Evan would see how a little boy should act.
*
Hugh tried to concentrate on his notes. He must. Tomorrow, he would need to deliver a well-prepared sermon. But his mind kept hurrying back to the kitchen. And Annie. The girl left him so confused he couldn’t sort out his thoughts.
She’d been upset that he asked about Rudy. Had refused to talk about the man. Said Rudy would not be a threat. In his experience, the more a person avoided a subject, the more it mattered and that concerned Hugh. Bernice had run off and look at the harm it had done Evan. If he allowed Annie to stay and Rudy returned, wouldn’t she suddenly realize how much she cared for the man and see how much he had to offer?
He must spare Evan another heartrending separation.
Annie’s soft voice came to him. He unashamedly listened as she told Evan a story about a dog. Which reminded him of her trying to take that bowl of food outside without anyone seeing it. He’d watched out the window as she fed a stray dog. He had no objection to her doing so. He didn’t care to stand by when animals were neglected. His smile of amusement fled. Much less when people—and especially children—were neglected or worse.
The sweet sound of a chuckle drew his attention back to Annie’s voice.
“What do you think, Evan? Should the mama let Spot sit at the table just because he thought he was a boy?”
A moment of silence.
“You’re right. Dogs belong on the floor.”
Had she answered on Evan’s behalf or had he—as she seemed to believe—given her a clue as to his thoughts? Could she be right?
Already Annie had given him hope regarding his son. He pressed his hand to his forehead. He didn’t want to grow to depend on her. She was too young. Too eager for life. And there was Rudy. And if not Rudy, there would be some other young, fun-loving man.
He closed the door gently and forced his attention to sermon preparation.
Even through the door, he heard the murmur of her voice and the occasional low rumble of her grandfather’s. He wished he could be in the same room, listening to what she said and observing Evan’s reaction.
Lord, God, I must concentrate. Show me what I need to say to the congregation tomorrow. And please reinforce the walls around my heart and those around Evan’s that neither of us will grow too dependent on Annie.
Somehow he made it through the morning, though he couldn’t deny that more than once or twice he glanced at the closed door, wondering, listening and then focusing his eyes back on his sermon notes.
A gentle knock came to the door between him and the rest of the house. A soft voice.
“Hugh, dinner is ready.”
He almost leaped to his feet. Then exerted every ounce of his self-control and sank back to his chair. “I’ll be right there.” He wasn’t eager. No. Just curious and concerned as to how Evan was doing.
He waited until he heard Annie’s footsteps recede, waited until he thought she must have returned to the kitchen then slowly rose and made his way after her. He’d never found Mrs. Ross’s food and care to be lacking but walking into the kitchen, seeing the table set with a pot of thick potato soup placed in the middle alongside a plate of golden biscuits, to be greeted by a kindly old man and a smiling young woman waiting for him, proved enough to cause his footsteps to increase in pace and his heart to do a strange little thump against his ribs.
“Brr. It’s cold. The weather must have worsened.” In truth the kitchen was warm and cozy. Despite the heater in his office, that far room had been chilly and silent. As it should be. He was there to work, not wish. His thoughts were making no sense and he firmly pushed them aside and sat down.
After he said grace, Annie filled the bowls and passed the biscuits. She took a bowl to Evan. “A dog can’t sit at the table because he’s a dog. He belongs on the floor. A boy sits at the table. Not the floor because he isn’t a dog.” She returned to her place without waiting for Evan�
�s response.
However, Hugh watched the boy and for the first time saw what Annie perhaps saw that convinced her he communicated his wishes. Evan tipped his head slightly, looked at the bowl on the floor beside him and then at the chair where Annie expected him to sit. A tiny shudder raced across his thin shoulders. Hugh knew the boy understood what Annie wanted, had considered it but was afraid to join them.
For the first time since he’d found Evan, Hugh saw some basis for hope that his son would be okay. He kept his attention on his bowl of soup to hide the way his eyes stung. Annie had done this and his heart flooded with gratitude.
“Will it be okay if I leave for an hour or so this afternoon? I need to make a trip to the store,” Annie said, breaking the silence and bringing Hugh back to the reality of his situation.
“Of course. I’ll be here to watch Evan and keep the fire going.”
Grandfather thanked him. “The cold is seeping into my bones. They tell me there will be a storm soon.”
“How soon?” Was it safe for Annie to go out? Hugh looked at her, knowing his concern filled his eyes.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. She gave him a steady look. He couldn’t decide if it was challenging or warning. Would she listen if he asked her not to go?
Grandfather chuckled. “Okay, you two. Stop shooting sparks at each other. Annie, you hurry home, hear. And Hugh, you have to trust her to have a little sense.”
“Oh, I trust she has a little sense.” He almost hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. What had possessed him to say such a thing? And if Grandfather thought she sparked before… Hugh almost ducked away from the brittle flashes flying from her eyes.
“Little enough to answer your ad,” she reminded him. Her gaze shifted to Evan and her expression softened. She smiled at the boy. “And I don’t regret it a bit. After all, look what I have here. A sweet little boy who is soon going to sit at the table like people do, a warm place for Grandfather for the winter and…” Her eyes came back to Hugh and she studied him for a heartbeat, two, three…
He held his breath, wondering how she would describe him.
“And a noble preacher.”
His lungs started to work again. Noble? And preacher? They were fine words but he was disappointed in them. What more had he wanted? Nothing. Nothing at all.
“I’ll clean the kitchen then go to the store.” She rose, paused to look at Hugh again. “I’ll be just fine.”
Before he could think of an answer, she turned to Evan. “Would you like me to bring you a candy stick?”
Hugh stared as Evan’s gaze jerked to Annie and his eyes lit with eagerness. Then he ducked his head and pulled back into a tight huddle.
“Evan,” Annie continued. “Look at me.”
The boy kept his head down but his eyes went to her.
“If you want one, nod like this. And if you don’t, shake your head like this.” She illustrated and waited patiently. Evan didn’t do either. “Evan,” she said. “I won’t buy you a candy unless you say yes.” She waited, revealing nothing but patience.
She expected too much. The boy’s only communication had been grunts and wild noises. When Hugh opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand.
He was aware that Grandfather watched them with interest and a bit of pride in his eyes. He thought his granddaughter could persuade Evan to respond.
Hugh wished it could be that simple. That change would come that easily.
As he watched Evan the boy nodded his head once. So slight a movement he might have missed it. Perhaps even imagined it but no, he had not. The boy had indicated his choice.
Annie laughed softly. “Good. I’ll bring you two for being such a good boy.”
Hugh stared at his son, hope and gratitude welling up like an artesian well. He shifted his attention to Annie, who was making short work of cleaning up.
He could so easily fall in love with this girl.
He almost bolted from his chair. That must not happen. If he allowed it, both of them would be disappointed and worse, so would Evan. She’d be disappointed when she realized he couldn’t provide her with fun and excitement. He, when she left.
She dumped the dishwater and grabbed an old coat she wore going outdoors. “I’ll be back later.” And with that, she slipped out the door with three people staring after her.
Grandfather eased his way to his armchair and settled in for a nap.
Hugh studied Evan. What could he do to amuse the child? Annie read to him, told him stories. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He hurried to his office and gathered up his sermon notes. Back in the kitchen he was rewarded to see that Evan watched the door for his return but as soon as Hugh appeared, the boy shifted away.
“Would you like to hear my Sunday sermon?”
The boy’s shoulders twitched enough to inform Hugh that he heard. Satisfied this was a good way to pass a bit of time, he began to read his notes aloud distracted slightly by Grandfather’s snores. His message was about the prodigal son. It had seemed fitting considering the return of his own son. Not that Evan was a prodigal. Merely an innocent victim. A lost son. His throat tightened as he read the Bible verse of the father’s response. “‘Let us eat, and be merry: For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.’” He faced Evan though the boy did not look at him. “You are my son. You were lost but now I’ve found you. I couldn’t be happier.” That gave him an idea. He should have a celebration. But his enthusiasm died—Evan was not ready for any kind of merrymaking.
Unless it was just the four of them. Perhaps he’d bring it up with Annie.
He couldn’t still the little bubble of anticipation at presenting his idea to her.
What would she think? Perhaps that he wasn’t old and uninteresting? He sighed. One silly suggestion wasn’t likely to change anything.
Why was he so foolish to even think it might?
Chapter Six
Hugh finished reading his sermon notes aloud, half-distracted by the plans circling in his head. He supposed he should have something more to suggest than a celebration. What form would it take? Shuffling his papers together, he saw that Evan had fallen asleep on the mat Annie had provided. That didn’t say much for Hugh’s delivery even if the boy was only four.
He pulled the warm blanket over the boy and took the papers to his office.
He didn’t return immediately to the kitchen. Instead, he went to the windows overlooking the street and scratched a hole in the frost to peer down the road. From the manse, it was impossible to see the store. He saw the church next door, the bare-limbed trees in the town square formed by the intersecting two main streets in town. He saw the hotel and the corner of Miss Daisy’s Eatery but not beyond that to the mercantile where he guessed Annie had gone for her errands. A wagon rolled by. The occupants were so bundled up he didn’t recognize them except to know it was a man and a woman. A cowboy rode down the street, a scarf pulled around the man’s face and a fur coat protecting him from the weather.
It was cold out. Hugh knew that without leaving the house. He shouldn’t have let Annie go out. He gave a little shrug. It wasn’t as if he could have stopped her. He hadn’t been in the area long before he understood that Annie Marshall, like the male members of her family, did not allow herself to be unduly influenced by the wishes of another. It was one of the reasons he told himself she was unsuitable. Didn’t a preacher’s wife have to be prepared and willing to accommodate the opinions of others rather than do things that would bring criticism down on them?
The argument seemed weak at the moment and he spun from the window, crossed the floor to the window by the back door and peered out. She’d left the woodshed door open slightly. For the dog. He had to admit he liked a woman who was tenderhearted.
How long did it take to go to the store and return?
Or had she found other amusement?
Grandfather had said to trust her but trust did not come easily for Hugh.
He turned from the window and, more to occupy himself than of a need, he made a fresh pot of coffee. When it was ready, he offered a cup to Grandfather. “Are you concerned about the cattle and horses in this cold?” he asked, hoping to get the old man thinking in a different direction than Hugh’s worry about Annie.
Grandfather sipped the coffee before he answered. “There’s plenty of Marshalls out there to take care of things. I don’t mind sitting back and putting my feet up for a change.”
Hugh studied the man, remembering Annie’s concern. Did the older man look pale? Hard to say with his sun-leathered skin. Grandfather shifted and grimaced. A sign of pain?
“Are you warm enough?” Hugh asked.
Grandfather waved away his concern. “I’m cozy as can be.”
The two of them sank back to stare at their cups.
“She’s a great girl, you know.”
Hugh swirled the remains of his coffee. No need to ask who Grandfather meant. Annie. “Don’t suppose you’re the slightest bit prejudiced?”
“No need to be. It’s the plain and simple truth. Why, that girl has been running the house and taking care of the family since her ma, God rest her soul, passed away when she was barely fifteen. I daresay there isn’t another young woman half as capable in the whole territory.”
No doubt Grandfather thought those words should relieve any concern Hugh had regarding Annie but they only served to intensify it. Surely she’d be eager for less responsibility after all she’d dealt with. He could not, would not, believe otherwise.
“Losing her ma was hard on her. Hard on everyone in the family. Ellen was a very special woman with lots of gumption and a heart of gold. Annie takes after her ma.” He chuckled. “With a good deal of Marshall grit thrown in for good measure.” He sat up and leaned forward. “Me and my sons and grandsons wouldn’t look kindly on her being treated poorly, if you know what I mean.”
“Your message is loud and clear.” Part of him wanted to stand up and firmly inform this old man that he could live up to any expectation of the Marshalls. A stronger part reminded him of how often he had failed in the past.