Instant Prairie Family (Love Inspired Historical) (7 page)

As soon as the boys and Jake headed out to the barn, the kitchen became silent. The dirty dishes were stacked once again in the sink, but this time Mr. Hopkins remained seated, sipping his coffee as he watched her take the griddle off the stove. “You haven’t eaten anything yet,” he commented, bringing her attention away from the dishwater.

“Um...” A plate sat on the back of the stove for her as soon as she finished the dishes.

“Have a seat. Eat while they’re still warm. Then you can wash everything at once. They were very good, by the way. Ambrosia.” He smiled, standing to pull out a chair for her.

“Thank you.” She acknowledged his compliment but still felt a little shy as she set her plate on the table, sprinkled sugar over the pile and then returned to the stove for her own cup of coffee. “Would you like some more?” She waved the coffeepot toward him. At his nod, she filled his cup back up before taking her seat again. He returned to his own and sat watching her eat. After a minute he shifted.

“Right after breakfast we usually take the boys with us to the barn and have them sorta help with chores. They’re not big enough to handle a shovel and muck out the stalls, so we have them curry the horses while Jake and I do the heavy work. It keeps them occupied and within sight. Now with you here, we can start leaving them in the house, but it means you’ll have them underfoot in here. Or would you rather we make them do their chores while you do whatever you need to do in the morning?”

“I’d never presume to tell you what to do, Mr. Hopkins. I am more than willing to care for them the entire day and find ways to get my work done with them ‘underfoot’ as you say. I also know they need to learn lessons you can teach them in the barn and in the fields. Things I have no knowledge about. I’ll leave the decisions to you. Just let me know what you decide.”

“Fine,” he agreed with a nod of his head. “Then we’ll plan on them coming out to help with barn chores right after breakfast. Then they can come back in and you can give them something to work on, whatever works well with your plans. Since you’re new to the farm, I’d like to tell you what the boys can and can’t do.” He paused, waiting for her to acknowledge him, but she had a mouthful of pancake so all she could do was nod. His eyes twinkled and she wondered fleetingly if he had done that on purpose to fluster her.

“They are not allowed to play in the barn or barnyard without an adult with them at
all
times. Little boys tend to move quickly and could spook a cow or horse. An animal’s natural reaction would be to kick and that could easily kill a man, let alone a boy. The boys are also not allowed to venture down by the creek or out to the fields on their own. They love to fish and when it gets too hot, we even take them swimming but—” he glanced at her over the coffee cup as he paused to take a sip, his cheeks turning slightly pink “—I don’t expect you to have to take them into the water.”

The idea of watching the boys fish had a certain appeal as long as they could bait their own hooks. She had never learned to swim, nor did she plan on learning. She would leave the swimming lessons to Mr. Hopkins.

“That sounds reasonable,” she said.

“It’s not only the animals themselves that pose a threat to the boys. The equipment in the barn is also heavy and some have sharp edges like the saws and the axes. They are not to touch my tools unless
I
am with them. If you need wood chopped or something fixed, please let me know, and I’ll get things shipshape.”

Again she nodded, the last bite of pancake melting in her mouth. She looked down, chagrined that she had eaten it all. She didn’t remember tasting it. Her lukewarm coffee washed the rest of the pancake down and she found Mr. Hopkins’s eyes studying her once again.

He had a way of doing that. It made her feel as if he was trying to see into her soul. As if he could really see if she was being truthful or just accommodating. Honestly, she would find it hard to deny him reasonable requests. She was starting to believe again that she had been right to think that God had brought her here. When she’d learned that her Mrs. Hopkins was a
Mr.
Hopkins, she’d started to doubt, to question. But now certainty filled her again. Maybe because the boys pulled on her heartstrings.

It was not that Mr. Hopkins neglected his boys. On the contrary, it was clear that he tried so hard to do everything and he genuinely loved them, but he had no help. Things like table manners, housekeeping and book learning had been forgotten in the attempt to keep the farm running. She wanted to help the boys, teach them what she could and fill them with love and all the mothering they had missed out on these last few years. But what if she were only here for a few weeks or months? Would her presence be missed when she left? Would it be better to keep a distance from the beginning?

No, she couldn’t do that. If it was not in God’s plan for her to stay, then she’d resign herself to the change later. For now she knew that this was where she belonged, and she’d make the most of it for as long as she could.

“Do you have any questions, Miss Stewart?” he quizzed.

“Well, is there something you want me to work on today? I mean, there are a lot of tasks needing attention.” She paused, trying to find a delicate way to say things. “But I was wondering if you have one thing that stands out as more urgent.”

“No, ma’am. As you can see, we have been very remiss in our chores around the house, so there is more work to do than I think you’ll be able to do in three years.” A slight blush colored his ears. “It didn’t get this way overnight, and with the boys always underfoot, you may not have as much time as you are used to for tidying up and such. Whatever it is you decide to do, take your time. Just see to it that you don’t wear yourself completely out. And if you need anything, you just let us know. It would be nice to have a noon meal right about midday and the dinner ready close to six in the evening. Other than that...you women seem to know better than I do what’s what.”

“I do have another question. Do the boys know where to find the washtub and the soap? Do they know where to find the dirty clothes? Where do you put the clothes that you need mended?”

This time a full-blown smile filled his face, transforming him into a handsome man, looking years younger than he had looked at the train station two days before. “Miss Stewart, that sure sounded like three questions to me.” He chuckled good-naturedly and before she could come up with some sort of response, he continued. “Now, this is a farm where no woman has dared invade in more than two years. If it still stays together on its own, we wear it. Once it falls apart, we discard it. I’ve never learned to thread one of those itsy-bitsy needles, much less pull one through some shirt that’s just gonna get mistreated again.”

“I see your point. You may find that I try and change some of those habits in the days to come. Please let me know if I overstep my bounds.” Abby kept from smiling, but she was sure the glint in Mr. Hopkins’s eyes matched her own. Glancing around the room, still dirty and gritty everywhere but the sink and countertop where she had cleaned yesterday, she wondered if she had bitten off more than she would be able to chew. The only way to find out was one bite at a time, starting with the breakfast dishes.

“I’ll be sure to do that, ma’am.”

“Huh?” She turned back to him from her perusal of the room, already mentally planning what she would do first.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if you overstep your bounds.” He smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat. “And, yes, the boys know where the soap is kept. The washtub is hanging in the pantry and another in the barn if you need it. Are you planning to wash clothes today?” he questioned softly.

“If it’s all right with you, sir,” she answered just as softly.

“That’d be fine. I’ll just go and start the fire in the yard for you, then. I’ll also get the water hauled out there.”

“Thank you.” Thinking their conversation was done, she stood and she noticed he stood as well, whether to get to work or out of respect, she wasn’t sure.

“Um.”

His hesitance brought her attention back to him from the dishes she had started to place in the dishwater.

“Breakfast was very good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I love seeing the boys enjoy their food,” she confessed, not mentioning that watching the men devour the food had left her just as satisfied.

“Well, it is nice to have someone who knows what they’re doing in the kitchen for once.” He chuckled as he left the room. Only after the door shut behind him did Abby dare to look back over her shoulder. Through the window she watched his strong, tall form quickly cross the distance and then disappear into the barn.

Chapter Five

“O
kay, boys, it’s about time to go and check on the laundry,” Abby called out to the boys playing in the front room.

She had washed all the clothes yesterday and then worked on washing the kitchen cabinets. Today she had tackled the bedding. The sheets and covers from all four beds upstairs were hanging on the lines in the yard and she had swept the rooms out, including the cobwebs from the corners and the ceilings. Her arms ached, but she was happy with the way things were staring to look—a little more civilized. Given another few weeks, she would have the place clean.

She stepped out of the kitchen and caught Tommy with a hand up under his shirt, scratching again. She had washed that shirt yesterday. Had chiggers or fleas gotten into the wash while it dried yesterday? Her own clothes felt fine. “Come on, boys. Come help me get the sheets for your beds.”

They left the city of blocks they were constructing on the floor without complaint but without much enthusiasm, either. As Willy passed her, he scratched his belly, too. Tonight she would insist on a bath for both boys.

Outside, she inspected the bedding and, not finding anything crawling around on it, she carefully took each item down, folded it and placed it in the basket she had found in the pantry. The boys had been subdued the majority of the morning. She wondered if they were already tired of spending their days indoors with her instead of out, playing and working with their father and cousin. It was a depressing thought. She had hoped to become fast friends with them, but chances of that were slim if they were already missing life before her arrival.

With the possibility of little critters on their bodies, Abby opted to leave them playing with their blocks while she wrestled the bedding back on the feather-stuffed mattresses. Making Mr. Hopkins’s bed, she let her eyes wander, learning about her employer. Mr. Hopkins had a number of books in his room, stacked on his small nightstand next to the large bed. He had taken his pillow out with him to the barn but had left the rest behind. His clothes had been hung on their pegs on the wall, and his two other pairs of trousers were folded and stacked on the side table under a window. The other piece of furniture in the room was an elaborate dressing table Abby assumed to have been the late Mrs. Hopkins’s. Although her things were hidden inside the drawers and a layer of dust sat heavily on everything, it was as if her presence was still in the room.

Did Mr. Hopkins feel the connection to his late wife here, in the room they had shared? Did he miss her terribly? Many men, once they were widowed, didn’t wait very long at all to remarry just to have help with the house chores and the children. Society seemed to understand and accept that many second marriages were marriages of need and convenience instead of marriages based on love and friendships, especially on the prairie. Yet Mr. Hopkins hinted he wanted a housekeeper who was older to avoid ideas of marriage. Had his love for his wife been so all-consuming that even a few years after her death, the idea of sharing his life with another woman was unthinkable?

Mr. Hopkins was kind and gentle with just the right sense of humor thrown in. He didn’t seem to be a romantic, but what did Abby know about such things? She had never been courted.

A glimpse in the mirror above Mrs. Hopkins’s dressing table revealed a disheveled girl who had thin blond hair that never conformed to the knots she fashioned at the nape of her neck and went every which way with the slightest breeze. Her face was slightly flushed with the heat of the late spring sun and the heavy work she had been doing. No wonder no one ever took notice of her.

She hurried to finish straightening out the quilt. It felt as if she were trespassing in a forbidden area. She glanced around once more to make sure everything was in place and then left, closing the door behind her.

Once she was done upstairs, she returned to the living room and found the boys lying on the floor, slowly pushing the blocks around with little interest, both scratching different appendages. For the first time, she noticed that Tommy’s cheeks were unnaturally pink and Willy had a glassy look about his eyes.

“Tommy, are you feeling all right?” she asked, anxiously watching his eyes and noting the same glassy look.

“I’m itchy. Som’pin bit me,” he complained, and Abby held her breath as she signaled him to come to her.

“Let me see.” She sank down on the davenport and reached out for the smaller boy’s shirt. He lifted it and she stared, wide-eyed, at the welts all over his torso. “Do you have these anywhere else?”

“Uh-huh, my back is itchy but I can’t see it,” Tommy whined.

“Let me take a look.” She gently turned him. Taking his shirt completely off, she studied the rash marking his back. “You’ll be getting this all over in a little while. Willy, do you have these, too?”

“Yeah. They itch!” He was close to tears and Abby groaned, wondering what kinds of medicine and herbs were at her disposal.

When she had been fourteen, she and her nieces and nephews all shared the chicken pox. While it was not any fun, she remembered the doctor telling her it wasn’t as dangerous as the smallpox. As long as they kept the fever down and the boys comfortable, they should be all right.

“Well, boys, it looks like you have the chicken pox. We’re gonna have to set you in the washtub with some oatmeal so you won’t itch so much. I want you to come out to the yard with me and we’ll see if we can’t help you feel a little better.”

“This is silly,” Tommy told Abby a little while later as he and his brother sat in the washtub in the shade of the only tree in the barnyard. Willy had been very self-conscious about bathing out in the middle of the yard in broad daylight, but once Abby promised not to look while he stripped down and got in, he quickly complied.

She dragged a stool out from the kitchen and set to mending shirts while the boys splashed each other. She let them play until they looked cool. She helped Tommy out and got him dried off and into his underwear and a large, holey shirt that had obviously once been his father’s. Someone had lopped off the sleeves at the elbows so that it would accommodate the boy’s shorter arms. Willy insisted on getting himself dressed and demanded she leave him alone. Knowing he was tired, itchy and running a fever, she didn’t argue.

Since the front room was cooler than the upstairs, she had them lie down on towels on the floor and she read to them until they were both asleep. While they slept, she checked on dinner and continued to clean the kitchen. She briefly entertained the idea of running out to the far fields to let the men know about the boys, but it wouldn’t make any difference in how fast Tommy and Willy got better. In the end she figured it would only worry Mr. Hopkins while he should be concentrating on the fields.

When the boys woke, they were as uncomfortable as they had been earlier and she prayed for patience for the next few days. She settled them to play with the blocks again in the cool of the front room and made frequent trips back to the kitchen. Each time she peeked out to see if the men had returned to the barn. Her heart skipped a beat and then sped up too fast when they finally returned. Would Mr. Hopkins be angry she hadn’t told him at once?

“Boys, I’m going to tell your father about the chicken pox. Stay in here and play nicely. I’ll be right back.” She hurried out to the barn.

“Um, good afternoon, Mr. Hopkins,” she called out, making both men spin around from taking the harnesses off the horses. “Jake.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Stewart.” Mr. Hopkins studied her carefully, his eyes then darting to the house and around the yard. “Is everything all right?” The concern in his voice matched his gaze.

“Um...yes. I was able to do the washing and dinner’s on the stove, but...” She bit her lip. How should she tell him? What if he decided to take them to the doctor and leave her at the train station on the way? She hadn’t even been in the house for a full three days!

“Is there something you need, Miss Stewart?” Mr. Hopkins’s gaze froze her in place. He knew something was afoot.

“I just wanted to tell you that the boys have chicken pox. They started itching just after lunch and now they’re covered in the rash. I gave them a bath in oatmeal and lukewarm water and then they took a nap, but I wanted you to know. I can handle this, sir. I took care of my nieces and nephews when we all got the chicken pox a few years ago. It wasn’t pleasant, but it’s not too dangerous as long as we can control the fevers and keep them from scratching.”

“Are you sure it’s chicken pox, Miss Stewart?” Mr. Hopkins quizzed her as he all but dragged her by her upper arm toward the house. His grasp was firm but not painful. “Jake, see to the horses. I’ll be out in a bit,” he called over his shoulder as an afterthought.

“Yes, sir. I remember it well from when I had it myself. And then two years ago, Katie and Peter had it and I took care of them, as well. Since I had already had it, I couldn’t get it again and I... Well, Emma was not interested in trying to keep her children comfortable.” Abby bit her top lip to stop from rambling.

“Auntie Abby, I want some more water,” a small, cranky voice called out to her as they crossed the kitchen.

“Okay, darling, I’ll get you some in just a minute,” Abby answered the child, watching Mr. Hopkins to see what his reaction was.

“Pa, Pa!” both boys chorused. They climbed to their feet with less energy than normal, but they still embraced him as he bent down and put himself at their eye level.

“Hey, boys, I heard we have some turkey pox around here,” he teased, but the look in his eyes belied his lighthearted banter.

“Auntie Abby said it was chicken pox,” Willy corrected. “Right?” he confirmed with a confused glace at Abby.

“Yes, I’m just teasing,” Mr. Hopkins reassured the boy. Nodding he turned and studied Abby. “Do they need a doctor? The nearest one is a day’s ride past Twin Oaks.”

“No, as long as we keep them cool and comfortable, they should be fine.” Abby infused her voice with confidence. She had nursed the others through this. Maybe this was the opportunity she needed to prove she was indispensable here. “Have you and Jake had it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stood and once again towered over her. “I had it when I was a little younger than Tommy is now. Jake had it the fall before...before his parents died. I’ll go see about those chores now. Is there anything else you need?” he asked, his attention on his boys.

“Do you have willow bark or something else to keep fevers down?”

“Yes, ma’am, although I don’t know how to use the stuff. I bought some just in case when we were in town last fall. There was a bad flu here last year. I wanted to be sure I had some on hand.”

“If you would show me where I can find it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mr. Hopkins gave Tommy’s shoulder a squeeze and ruffled Willy’s hair. “I’m going with Miss Stewart and then out to the barn to milk old Bess and the other girls. You mind Miss Stewart, now.”

* * *

Later that night, after the men had bathed the boys once more, Abby stood next to the bed and tucked the boys in their beds. She had listened from the rocking chair near the window as Mr. Hopkins read three stories before their prayer time. Dispensing hugs and kisses to the miserable boys, she had headed downstairs to go to her room when she heard the boys calling out for their father. Since he’d already gone out to the barn, she went up and found herself once again seated on the rocking chair. This time she settled it between their twin beds. She read to them and sang songs she had learned as a small girl from her mother.

When they both were finally asleep, she brought a pillow and the quilt from her own bed and settled on the floor between them so she would be able to hear them whenever they woke. As it turned out, they woke frequently. She didn’t sleep more than an hour at a time. By the time the sun was peeking over the
horiz
on, her eyes felt gritty but she forced herself to start breakfast for the men.

The next few days were long and miserable for the boys and Abby. She tried to humor them with stories and singing. More than a few times, she spent hours just holding them on her lap in the rocking chair. Even Willy called for her the minute he woke up. She would bathe them three or four times a day and would always be ready with another glass of water and some bread or cookies. Meals had been simple soups so she could leave them simmering while she spent time with the boys.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hopkins. I made rabbit stew with potatoes again. I wish I had more time…. I’ll have a better meal for us tomorrow,” Abby blurted out as soon as Mr. Hopkins had finished saying the blessing on Wednesday night. “I haven’t had a chance yet to mop the floors or dust upstairs. I’ll get to it as soon as—”

He raised his eyebrows and looked steadily at her as if she were a stranger from another planet. “This is the best rabbit stew that has ever been served at this table and your bread fills in all the rest of the space in our empty bellies. You’ve been taking care of two sick boys. I don’t know how you got to making dinner at all. Don’t worry about the housework. It’ll still be there in a week from now.” He chuckled and returned his gaze to his plate.

That night the boys fell asleep earlier, so she took advantage of the quiet house and scrubbed the kitchen floor until it returned to its original color. Her back protested by the end. If felt as if a hundred splinters still stuck in her hands and knees, but the kitchen was finally clean enough to satisfy her just as Tommy called from upstairs again.

* * *

Will wondered what was going on inside the house as he milked the cows. There was no smoke rising from the chimney. In the week since Miss Stewart had arrived, she managed to be up and ready by the time he brought in fresh milk each day. They had all started to get used to the little touches she brought to the house. Although the boys had the chicken pox, they still were eating more than they had before. She had yet to burn anything. Even Jake commented about how nice it was to have two socks without holes and a shirt that had all its buttons.

His wonder changed to worry when he walked into the kitchen, ready to receive the cup of coffee she always had ready by then, only to find the stove still cool and no sign of his housekeeper. Had something happened to her or the boys during the night? Surely if there was something wrong with the boys, she would have alerted him.