Instant Prairie Family (Love Inspired Historical) (9 page)

“Have a seat. I’m going to pull these splinters out before they get infected. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Even as he asked, he gently pushed her into the seat. He really didn’t expect her to answer. He had benefited from all her hard work and yet he hadn’t paid attention to her; just one more reminder why he failed in his marriage. Not that he was looking for another marriage—with Abby or anyone else—but that didn’t change his responsibility to her as someone in his care. He was not going to let her get close to him, but he should at least let her know she was safe.

Living on the frontier, he always carried a sharp knife sheathed on his belt. Holding it to the flame in the oven for a moment, he wiped it on a clean cloth and sat down in the chair facing Abby.

“Put your hand out like this.” He indicated how he wanted her hand over the clean cloth on the table, and then he started to use the tip of his knife to tease the splinters out. He could tell that she wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but she didn’t make a noise. Brave woman.

“I remember the first time I tried to help my pa with the boxes in the back of the store.” He wasn’t sure why he started to ramble, but she relaxed slightly, so he continued. “I must have been about Tommy’s age. Pa told me to leave them alone, but I wanted to help. I tried to take them apart with my bare hands and got more splinters than I thought possible, but I broke up each and every box. Too bad my pa planned to use the boxes for produce out front.” He shook his head self-deprecatingly and chuckled. “After he pulled the splinters out with his pocketknife, he gave me my first pair of work gloves and then we remade the crates.”

Will glanced up from his work and noticed that she looked less frightened. In fact, she was smiling a little. “What?” he asked, a little more gruffly than he had intended. Having shared his childhood memories with her made him feel just slightly vulnerable.

“Nothing.” She tensed.

“You were thinking something that made you smile. What was it?” he probed, this time keeping his voice soft and his eyes on her hand.

“I was just wondering if you were more like Willy or Tommy when you were a boy.” Her voice was so soft he strained to hear it. When he glanced up again, her gaze turned away.

“I think my parents would say that I was as ornery as Willy and as impulsive as Tommy. I know they were always at wits’ end to try and do something with me.” He grinned at the thought and went back to prying tiny pieces of wood out of her palm.

“This might hurt a little,” he warned before he used the tip to slit her skin open just a bit more and then nab the splinter. Her sharp inhale confirmed the sting, but she didn’t flinch.

“That was the last one on this hand,” he announced, not yet letting go of her wrist. It was soft and small inside his palm and he was reminded how slender she was. It had been a long time since he’d held a woman’s hand in his. Before he could dwell on those thoughts, he let her right hand go and set to work on the left.

“So, you have an older sister and...?” He left the sentence hanging as he forced another sliver out.

“It was just the two of us. She was married by the time our father died of the fever and then, a few weeks later, our mother...” The catch in her breath softened his heart a little.

“How old her were you then?”

“Twelve, turning thirteen. Emma and Palmer took me in. It was their obligation and they never let me forget it.
I
was an obligation.” She bit her bottom lip and he wondered what it must have felt like to grow up not being wanted. “So I did as much as I could not to be a bother. I helped with the children. They are really darling.”

At the mention of her nieces and nephews, she smiled until he pulled another sliver out and she winced. “At first they had a housekeeper, but after Palmer offended her, she left and they had me do the majority of the work. I didn’t mind. It gave me a purpose and I could see to the children, but Emma was never satisfied with what I did.”

“I’m sorry your sister didn’t appreciate your work. I certainly do. You’ve made this place much more like a home than it was before. I don’t think I’ve looked forward to breakfast since MaryAnn died. My brother’s wife was a good cook. I miss her—and him.”

“I’m sorry. How long ago did they die?” Her compassion brought his focus from her hands to her eyes. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Only Colin, his pastor and close friend, and Jake knew how hard Matt’s death had been for him.

“It’s been almost seven years. They headed to town in a sled a few weeks before Christmas to buy gifts and something happened to spook the horses, I guess. They ended up flipping into the river. By the time I went to find them, there was nothing we could do.” Will cleared his throat, pushing aside the memories of the mangled sleigh and his brother and sister-in-law still trapped under it in the cold, rushing water.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice made the memories recede into the past were they belonged. He cleared his throat once more and returned his focus to her hand that still lay limp in his. He knew she was watching his face, but he didn’t dare look up and see pity in her eyes. He had seen enough pity in the eyes of the neighbors at the funerals. “It must get lonely out here with all the responsibilities of the farm now on your shoulders.”

Her understanding soothed like a balm. A comfortable silence filled the room. Finally every splinter was out.

“You’ll need to wash these and then I think I have some salve in the barn that’ll help with the sting. I’ll go get it.”

“Thank you.” She stood and he pumped the water so that she could let it run over her hands.

When he returned, she had almost finished the dishes and he forced himself to breathe deeply and take firm command of his temper before he spoke. Why did she insist on doing things that could hurt her?

“You shouldn’t be washing those dirty dishes with your hands all cut up like that. I’ll finish up.” He was proud he’d kept his voice low.

“I...” She looked as if she was about to explain but dropped her shoulders and turned back to the sink.

“Wash them off and we’ll get them all bound up for tonight.”

Not waiting for her to answer, he started to pump the water again and let her gingerly wash her hands under the cold spray. Holding out a clean towel, he wrapped her hands in the cloth and patted them dry. He used the salve on the cuts and blisters, some of which had opened while she was washing dishes, and then wrapped her hands in strips of clean cloth.

“Thank you,” she whispered, without looking up. “I’m sorry to have troubled you. Is there something else I can do for you tonight?”

“No, you were no trouble. I want you to get some rest and take care of those hands. It won’t do for one of those cuts to get infected.” He wondered if she thought he saw her as an obligation, as well.

Nothing could be further from the truth. She was worth her slight weight in gold. The house was cleaner than it had ever been since he’d built it. The boys were getting better now and he would never have had any idea how to nurse them through the chicken pox. But he wasn’t foolish enough to think that she would stay for too much longer. Sooner or later she would be demanding he pay her way back to civilization. He didn’t dare dwell on why that thought bothered him tonight. Must be that he’d been missing another adult to talk with.

She shifted on the chair she was sitting on and he realized it was getting late. His cows didn’t like him making them wait come morning, so he’d best be getting off to bed, especially since he was starting to feel a friendship stirring between him and his housekeeper. He’d have to be careful not to get too attached.

But maybe a friendship, knowing she was only going to be there for a short time, wasn’t such a bad idea. She needed someone to talk with, as well. Maybe he could make a habit of talking with her after dinner in the evenings—just to see how things were going with the boys and their studies—that type of thing.

“I’m gonna head on out now, unless there’s something else you need,” he offered, reluctantly standing when she shook her head. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Abby said softly as he strode out into the night. He shut the door behind him and made sure it was secure.

Chapter Six

S
unday dawned bright and breezy. Abby quickly made breakfast and left a chicken baking with lots of onions, carrots and potatoes floating in the water that half filled the pot. Cooking was so easy now that she had the kitchen set up precisely the way she wanted it. It felt as if she had lived there all her life even though the calendar indicated only three weeks had passed. After breakfast, she made the boys put on their new shirts. They looked very handsome in their dark blue matching shirts and she regretted not having found time to make pants for them yet. Mr. Hopkins and Jake had also cleaned up nicely. They both sported white shirts under gray vests she had mended, washed, starched and ironed.

Abby had managed to coax Jake into letting her cut his hair the night before, and he looked dashing. Cutting Jake’s hair had reminded her of the times she had done the same for her nephews. She wondered how they were doing and when, if ever, she would get to hear news from them.

The men all sat in the wagon, waiting for her as she stepped out of the kitchen door. Mr. Hopkins drove right up to the steps and disembarked long enough to pick her up by the waist and set her on the wagon seat. They headed to the meeting house before she had time to worry about how she looked herself.

Having chosen to wear her favorite dress of light pink with plum roses printed on the fabric, she hoped the other women at the church would overlook the fact the fabric was slightly worn in places. She prayed her bonnet would hold her curls in place in spite of the teasing prairie breeze. The last thing she wanted to do was to embarrass Mr. Hopkins by arriving at the Sunday meeting with her hair in disarray and her dress less than acceptable.

The boys kept a constant chatter going, telling her about all the children—all five of them—that would likely be there. The children closest to Tommy’s age were sisters who lived on the other side of the Scotts’ homestead.

“Why couldn’t God give us some boy neighbors? All we got around here are a bunch of girls! Uck!”

“Hey, mister, I’m a girl, too,” Abby teased.

“Yeah, but you’re a nice girl. Not like them. They think that catching frogs and diggin’ for worms is gross,” he reasoned with her. Abby felt humbled by his admiration even as she shuddered at the idea of actually handling frogs. Mr. Hopkins grinned at her as if he could read her thoughts. In the last week, they had grown comfortable with each other. Abby felt as if she had a good friend in her employer.

Willy told her about the other children who lived farther away. Jake hesitantly filled her in on details when the boys’ explanations were confusing. By the time she saw the small chapel in the distance, she was sure she would recognized each of the thirty or so members of the area who frequented the church.

As soon as the wagon stopped, they were surrounded by people. The boys scrambled down the back of the wagon and ran off before Mr. Hopkins could loop the reins around the brake and hop down. He turned and helped her down in a movement as natural as breathing. Mrs. Scotts was the first to introduce herself and expressed her disappointment at arriving at home to the report of having missed her newest neighbor’s visit.

Before Mr. Hopkins could introduce her to everyone who gathered, someone started to clang the bell. As one, the group turned and swarmed in through the doors. Before long, they all found seats in the twelve rows of long wooden pews of the quaint church. Abby found herself pulled along with the flow, all the way down to the third pew, and seated between the two boys with Mr. Hopkins on one side and Jake on the other. The tall, young circuit preacher greeted everyone at the door.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Stewart.” The preacher gently pressed her hand with both of his as she entered the doorway on Mr. Hopkins’s arm. “Will’s shared all of your letters and I’m sure he and the boys are enjoying your cooking since anything has to be better than his.”

“Except, of course, yours.” Mr. Hopkins surprised Abby by being so informal with the young preacher, but the others around them just laughed.

“I confess, Miss Stewart, that my cooking is not much to write home about.” Pastor MacKinnon’s green eyes danced with merriment and Abby felt at ease. He couldn’t be any older than she was, but he made her feel at home.

Abby enjoyed the service. Pastor MacKinnon possessed a gift for making connections to the Bible and everyday life. Surely God had placed her where she was for a purpose. Just like Ruth, the foreigner in an unknown land, God would use her to minister to others. She already saw some of her work paying off just seeing the boys looking so civilized in their dress shirts—until Willy used the back of his sleeve to wipe his nose. She consoled herself with the thought that she had just begun.

When the service finished, Abby was surrounded by the women of the area, and Mrs. Scotts began introducing everyone. Some of the women were openly friendly, while others seemed to hold back a little. All the apprehension she had felt when they had headed out that morning seemed silly now. Her new neighbors seemed to be completely taken with her dress. In fact, her dress was by far the fanciest and newest of all the women’s.

Since the area was populated by more single men than families, there were only eleven women over the age of thirteen and all of them were married.

“Now, Miss Stewart, you must try and join us for our monthly quilting bee. We all meet here the last Friday of each month,” Mrs. Ryerson suggested. Abby longed to participate and be part of the women’s group but what would Mr. Hopkins think about the idea? Would he let her come on her own for a few hours as long as she got all her cooking and cleaning out of the way before she left the farm? Would he let her take the boys? Would he teach her how to drive the wagon?

Just as she was pondering the idea, she noticed that Herbert Scotts had arrived with his brother and was speaking with the preacher toward the front of the church in hushed tones. About to turn back to what the women were saying, she noticed the younger of the brothers gesture toward her, his eyes straying to areas of her body that made her cheeks flame. The women around her seemed to notice the men’s presence, and Mrs. Scotts looked surprised to see her sons. Remembering how uncomfortable she had been under the stare of the man on their brief encounter at the Scotts’ home the first day Mr. Hopkins had brought her from Twin Oaks, she forced herself to pay attention to what Mrs. Phelps said as she tried to calm her racing heart. The tingling sensation that crept up her neck and left her ice-cold didn’t go away. Why was the preacher talking with them about her?

When she glanced back, Pastor MacKinnon had left the Scotts in one corner and retreated with Mr. Hopkins to the other side of the room, where they talked with their heads bent together. Abby couldn’t see the look on the pastor’s face, but Mr. Hopkins turned shades of red she’d never seen. His anger was almost palpable. What must have been said? He sent the Scotts boys a look that would have cowed lesser men, but they just smirked back at him and then turned their unashamed gazes back on her.

Abby chanced another glance at Mr. Hopkins and Pastor MacKinnon, only to see that they were headed her way. Mr. Hopkins looked like a thundercloud about to burst.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Pastor MacKinnon’s greeted them all in a congenial voice. He smiled at everyone. “I would like to speak with our newest neighbor for a few minutes alone, if that’s all right with you all. Could I ask you to take your visiting outdoors and enjoy the beautiful fresh air and slight breeze God gave us this fine day?” As the woman all gathered their reticules and began to leave, he asked Mrs. Phelps, Mrs. Scotts and Mrs. Ryerson to wait outside because he wanted to discuss something with them, as well.

He extended his right hand out to Abby and once she had placed her own hand in his, he clasped it. “Would you allow me to pray for you and your future?” he asked, waiting for her nod.

“Father God, You know the plans You have for our newest member to this congregation. Plans You promise will build her up and not destroy her. I pray You guide her and be with her as we discuss Your will in her life. Grant us wisdom, understanding and peace. In Your name, I pray, Amen.”

The pastor dropped her hand but continued to stand close. Strangely, Abby was more aware of Mr. Hopkins’s presence, standing stiffly next to the pastor, only a step away, anger rolling off him in waves like the ripples of water in a river.

“Thank you, Pastor MacKinnon,” she murmured. It was reassuring he had asked for wisdom, but she wondered what he was talking about. Surely they had had new people join the community before. Why had his prayer seemed so cryptic and serious? What had happened to the light jesting before the service? Why was Mr. Hopkins still looking like a bull about to charge, his nostrils still flaring?

“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stewart. Although it seems that your arrival here has been a series of surprises. I hope we can work some of them out now.”

She sent a questioning look at Mr. Hopkins. It was a brief contact, but she saw his look soften slightly and wondered again what was going on. Her mind whirled as she tried to remember anything she could have done that would have provoked his anger, but she came up empty.

“I have known Will since I started preaching in the community about, what, seven years ago, right, Will?” Mr. Hopkins acknowledged him with a nod but didn’t comment.

“Will is a man who always looks to God for guidance. One who tries to do the right thing no matter the cost to him.” The pastor’s words seemed strange and pointed.

“In fact, when he shared the idea of hiring a housekeeper, I encouraged him to follow God’s lead. I even carried a few letters back and forth from Twin Oaks. Will tells me there’s been some confusion because you are not the grandmotherly woman he expected. He said you expected to find a widow woman, not a young widower at the train stop. Both of those errors may have been completely innocent, but they have caused a bit of a problem. I know God has a purpose in all of this and I suspect I know what that purpose is.”

Abby wondered about God’s purposes, too. It was such a relief that she had found a safe home with a family who loved God and made her feel useful and appreciated. But the temporary nature of the situation still worried her. She spent a lot of time in prayer about her future.

“However, there is a small complication,” Pastor MacKinnon continued with a glance at the young men still smirking in the front of the chapel. “Herbert and Elvin Scotts have come and presented their concerns.” He took a breath, as if wondering how to word his thoughts. “They came to inform the congregation that your reputation is at risk because you’ve been living on a farm with no chaperone and two men. Now—”

“You know I’d do nothing to harm Miss Stewart’s reputation,” Mr. Hopkins said with a glower.

“I know you fear God and would never intentionally compromise Miss Stewart, but owing to circumstances, I am afraid not everyone in the community will see it that way. The Scotts have come and said that either one of them would be willing to marry Miss Stewart so she can save face and have a secure future.”

Abby gasped and felt as if the world were spinning. What had the preacher said? The Scotts had offered to marry her to protect her from Mr. Hopkins? Mr. Hopkins had been a perfect gentleman the entire time, treating her respectfully and sleeping out in the barn. The glances and outright stares the two brothers didn’t bother to hide were scandalous. How could they think she would ever agree to marry either one of them? They would be no better than Palmer. The thought made her shudder.

“Miss Stewart, I imagine this must be a shock to you but we need to discuss your options. Are you all right or do you need to sit down a minute?” The pastor’s words sounded tinny and far away, but their meaning finally penetrated her foggy mind.

She wet her lips, cleared her voice, testing to see if it was going to fail her, as well. “I would like to sit for a minute,” she agreed, unsure if her legs were still under her. She felt numb all over.

Warm, solid arms came to support her right arm and around her waist. Surprised, Abby felt Mr. Hopkins infuse a sense of peace through his gentle grip as he aided her to the nearest pew. Both men hovered near her as she sat, closing her eyes, praying this was just a bad dream. She had finally started to feel safe and at home in Nebraska and now this….

“Miss Stewart. Can you answer a few questions for me?” Pastor MacKinnon asked in a gentle voice, his concern evident in his tone. She couldn’t speak past the boulder lodged in her throat, so she nodded.

“Has Will done anything untold or inappropriate to you?”

“No!” The accusation was so ridiculous she lost no time in answering. “He’s been a complete gentleman. He and Jake sleep in the barn every night. They have been very kind.”

“Good.” The young preacher grinned at Will. “I didn’t want to have to beat him up. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten into a fistfight and I’m not completely sure I could take him, but I’d try.”

The pastor was trying to make a difficult time a little lighter. She appreciated his efforts, but she doubted Mr. Hopkins did. His expression didn’t change.

“The only reason the Scotts knew she was here was that I thought she would be able to stay with Mrs. Scotts,” he said, his tone making it clear he blamed himself for this problem. “Now I’m glad I didn’t leave her there. I doubt she would have been safe.”

Mr. Hopkins glared at the young men. They reminded Abby of vultures waiting for a wounded animal to die before swooping and picking it apart.

“Unfortunately, I suspect you’re right. I doubt the Scotts boys would have been as respectful. But they are determined that something be done to ‘restore Miss Stewart to her place of respect in our society’ and they feel the only way to do that would be to have someone marry her. Since it is widely known you don’t want to marry again, Will, they are offering to let her choose between them for the one to take the
responsibility
from you and provide for her.”

“Since when have they cared about anyone’s respect?” Mr. Hopkins roared.