Penny Richards - Wolf Creek Wedding

But Caleb wasn’t looking at the fallow fields or the red and gold of the changing leaves. He was looking at Abby. Bonnet-free, she had thrown back her head and lifted her face to the soft shine of the sun. A capricious breeze had tugged tendrils of blond hair from the coil at the nape of her neck and whipped delicate rose color into her cheeks. For the first time, he realized that Abigail Carter was a very pretty woman.

Caleb forced his eyes back to the road. “Yes. It is beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.

Abby glanced at him, saw the set of his jaw and decided that she’d said enough on the subject for the moment. She knew from past experience that the best way to teach was by example. There would be plenty of time to show him in small ways that God was present and working in his life.

* * *

Almost a week had gone by since she and Caleb had made the trip to her place. The intervening days had passed quickly, and things had been going as well as could be expected. Abby’s new routine had taken on a familiar rhythm as she grew accustomed to her new station in life and her new home. So far, neither Ben nor Laura had done anything else to antagonize the prickly Mr. Gentry.

As was her custom, Abby spent thirty minutes each night with Ben in Bible study. On two separate occasions, she had looked up and seen Caleb leaning against the doorjamb of his study, arms folded across his chest, listening as she read or questioned Ben about certain verses. He never commented, and on both occasions, he had quickly shut the door, bade them good-night and headed for the bunkhouse.

Today he was going into town for some feed and to pick up some pantry items Abby needed. When he came into the kitchen to tell her he was leaving, she said, “If you have time, I was wondering if you’d deliver a message for me.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he only nodded. “I’d be glad to.”

“I’m not used to dealing with this sort of thing, but I can. It’s just that William always did, and you’re familiar with business, so I thought...” She drew in another breath and rushed on. “I know it’s an imposition, certainly beyond what most employers would do, but it will be so hard for me to get away with the babies, and—”

“Stop dithering, woman, and spit it out,” Caleb said, scowling at her.

Abby’s eyes widened and she bit back a sharp retort. Dithering? Woman? She lowered her gaze to his shirtfront and struggled to keep her tone pleasant. “It’s just that...would you mind stopping at the bank to let Mr. Haversham know that I’m working for you now, and that I’ll start making up the back payments as soon as possible?”

Some emotion she couldn’t place flickered in Caleb’s gray eyes. “I’d be glad to,” he told her. “Anything else?”

“No. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She watched the wagon disappear down the lane with a sigh of relief. He had agreed readily enough, and didn’t seem to mind any inconvenience it might cause. But it was business, after all, and business was something he understood well.

* * *

“How are things, Caleb?” Emily’s mother asked as he glanced over the list Abby had given him after making a thorough check of his pantry shelves.

What could he say to his dead wife’s mother? He suspected that neither Mary nor Bart suspected the true circumstances of his marriage and how even though he had more money but was self-educated, he had always felt intellectually inferior to Emily, who had received her education at a fancy girls’ school in St. Louis. He doubted they knew that Emily had taken far more joy from her drawing, reading and poetry writing than in making a home, or trying to build a marriage, so that when she had announced she was expecting a baby, it had come as a bit of a shock to them both.

Throughout the following months, her inability to come to terms with the whole idea of motherhood had left Caleb feeling as if he were solely to blame for her miserable pregnancy...and now her death. Thus the daily guilt he suffered.

Her dying had ended the steady ebb and flow of his life. Though Abby had a hot meal waiting for him when he returned to the house each evening, it was difficult for a man who liked the status quo to walk into the house and find strangers there. Being unable to enjoy the quiet peace and comfort of his home in the evenings made him nostalgic for the uncomplicated life he’d grown accustomed to during his marriage. Being with someone for six years forged habits and rituals that, when they ceased to exist, were missed nonetheless.

“I miss having her around,” he told them truthfully.

The smile on Mary Emerson’s face told him that his answer had pleased her, and that was all the thanks he needed.

Consulting Abby’s list, Mary helped him select some just-picked apples and a small tin of cinnamon. He had a hankering for an apple pie, and so far, Abby hadn’t balked at anything he’d suggested she fix, which, he had to admit, was a pleasant change.

“How is the arrangement with Abby Carter working out?” Bart Emerson asked, as if he could read his thoughts.

The troubled expression in the older man’s eyes warned Caleb that something was wrong. “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” he said, eyeing the older man thoughtfully. “What is it? I can tell something’s wrong.”

Bart cleared his throat. “I hate to mention it with everything you’ve been through lately, but you’ll find out soon enough, I reckon.”

“Spit it out,” Caleb said, leaning against the counter.

“Well, uh, there are some folks in town making a terrible fuss about Mrs. Carter staying at your place.”

Caleb’s dark eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, fuss?”

“They don’t think it’s right, both of you being single and living under one roof.”

Caleb swore beneath his breath. Though he was far from perfect and couldn’t claim to be religious, the maliciousness of some so-called Christians never failed to astound him.

“Don’t they know I just lost my wife, and I have a baby who needs to be fed every few hours?” he demanded. “Besides, Abby is newly widowed. And just for the record, I’m staying in the bunkhouse.”

“I know, I know,” Bart soothed. “You’d think they’d be more understanding what with Emily—” he cleared his throat “—and all. I’m thinking the problem is that Abby Carter is young and pretty. Maybe it would be different if she was old and ugly.”

“And if she was old, I wouldn’t need her, would I?” Caleb countered. He pinned Bart with a hard look. “Who exactly is ‘they’?”

“Several in town,” Bart hedged. “But the main one is Sarah VanSickle.”

“The biggest gossip in three counties,” Caleb muttered. He slapped his list onto the counter. “When I leave here, I have some business to see about for Abby, and then I’ll go have a talk with Sarah.”

“It won’t do any good,” Mary said. “She’d just make something of that. She’s like a spoon, Caleb. She likes keeping things stirred up. The best thing to do is ignore it.”

“Ignore it? That’s easier said than done. I don’t fancy being grist for the town’s gossip mill, and I suspect Abby won’t like it, either.”

“I suppose not,” Mary said, frowning. “Will you tell her?”

“No!” Caleb said in near panic. “She might decide to leave, and there’s no way I could manage without her just now.”

“I see your predicament, son, but you really ought to tell her before she finds out from someone else,” Bart reasoned. “It’s just a matter of time before Sarah’s poison makes its way through the whole county.”

Caleb hadn’t thought of that, but knew Bart was right. He couldn’t let Abby come to town and face the gossips without even preparing her, but how would he tell her? What would her reaction be? Furious and fearing he already knew the answer to that, he ground his teeth. Was anything in life ever easy?