Linda Ford - Falling for the Rancher Father

He should warn her of the whiskered man, he realized now. Even her guns and rope would be useless if this man in the woods got the drop on her.

Anxious to get back, he hurried Sam onward. Again, as he’d done earlier in the day, he paused before those at the cabin noticed his presence. Immediately, he saw Mercy. It was hard to miss her. She rode her fancy palomino. The horse reared back on his hind legs as she twirled a rope around the pair of them.

Like Allie said, she made a glorious sight. The words fire and flash sprang to his mind.

Then he saw the children against the cabin wall, clapping. Allie’s eyes were bright, her color heightened. Abel’s throat clenched tight. She was overexcited. Hadn’t he warned Mercy about this?

He dropped the reins and raced to Allie to scoop her into his arms. He brushed his hand across her face, swept her hair from her forehead. Was she warmer than she should be? “Come along,” he said to Ladd, and strode toward the cabin. He put Allie on a chair. “Stay here.” He turned to Ladd. “You stay with her.” He returned outdoors.

Mercy had dismounted and led her horse toward him.

He strode toward her. His insides churned and his fists clenched at his sides. “Do you have no concern for my children? Are you interested only in an audience for your riding?” He sucked in air to refill his lungs.

She opened her mouth.

Before she could get a word out, he held his hand toward her, silencing her.

“Did you not see how excited Allie was? Did you not notice her bright cheeks?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you could be so careless. I simply can’t allow you near my children.”

She tilted her head and gave him a hard look.

“Have it your way,” she said, her voice hard as rock. “I’m tired of explaining myself. Do you mind if I get my things?” She stalked past him without waiting for his answer.

He followed her and saw the children, wide-eyed and stiff.

Mercy knelt before them, caught their chins and pulled them to face her.

Allie, lips trembling, said, “You can’t go.”

Ladd gave his father a burning look, then shifted his attention to Mercy. “I like you here.”

“I must go. Be good.” She kissed them both on the forehead, grabbed her sack and jacket then strode from the house. She swung into her saddle and reined about. At the edge of the clearing she had the horse rear on his back legs. “Goodbye, Mr. Borgard.”

This afternoon he’d been Abel, and now Mr. Borgard. Alone again. Though why he thought it had ever changed defied explanation.

He watched until she rode out of sight before he returned to the cabin and the two children watching him with wide eyes and stubborn mouths.

“What do you want for supper?”

Tears welled up in Allie’s eyes. “Mercy said she’d make us vegetable soup. But now—” Her voice quivered. “You chased her away.”

Ladd clattered to his feet. “She wasn’t doing nothin’ wrong. You’re mad just ’cause she likes to do fun stuff.” He glowered at Abel.

Abel sighed. “You both know how careful Allie has to be. Do you want her sick again?” He directed his question to Ladd.

The boy’s anger faltered as he considered his sister. He shook his head, then faced Abel squarely. “We were only watching.”

Abel didn’t intend to argue with his son. “I have to do what I think is best.”

“Mama said you forgot how to have fun. She was right.”

Abel ignored the boy’s comment. Better to let them blame him than to realize the truth that Ruby cared more about her fun than her children. “Who wants bannock and beans?”

“I want vegetable soup.” Allie crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

Abel sighed. “So bannock and beans it is.”

The evening did not get better and he was happy when the time came to tuck them in. They still refused to forgive him despite the fact he’d done nothing that required forgiveness.

And then he faced the lonely evening. Only then did he remember he had meant to warn Mercy of the man in the woods. He slipped outside and closed the door behind him. Had she gotten back safely? He strained to listen for any unusual noise in the woods. When he heard only coyotes howling and night birds calling he told himself he was being silly. Of course she’d gotten back safely. Surely someone would let him know otherwise.

He returned inside and prepared for bed but, despite his weariness, sleep did not come easily. How was he going to get a bigger cabin built and firewood brought in?

Still, hadn’t he planned to manage on his own when he moved here? Really nothing had changed.

Only his wish that things could be different. But even that wasn’t new. He’d wanted something more all his life. When he was sixteen he’d thought he’d find it in abandoning the principles his parents had taught him. When he married Ruby, he thought he’d find it with her. After the twins were born, he thought he’d find it in being a father and returning to his faith in God.

And yet... He dismissed the errant thought.

It was in obeying God and living a careful life and looking after the twins that he would find what he wanted.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was that Mercy had been glorious, all fire and flash. He meant to argue to the contrary but instead fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

His smile turned upside down the next day as he contemplated his work. The sky hung heavy with clouds threatening rain and making it impossible to consider taking the twins with him to the woods. That meant he must stay close to the cabin. Right after breakfast he went to the logs he had dragged in—the ones meant for firewood—and cut and stacked a supply.

The children stayed inside where they would be warm and dry. He returned to the cabin after a couple of hours to check on them and get a drink.

As he stepped through the door they both gave him accusing looks.

“There’s nothing to do,” Ladd said in his most disgruntled voice.

Allie nodded. “If Mercy was here she’d play games.”

“Or tell good stories,” Ladd added, with heavy emphasis on the word good, as if to say her stories were much better than any Abel had read or told.

He gave them both considered study before he said, “Or do something wild and woolly like this was part of Mr. Robert’s Circus Side Show.” He named a traveling circus.

Allie’s eyes gleamed and pink filled her cheeks. “That was the best of all.”

The mere mention of it overexcited his daughter. “It’s not good for you.” He downed a dipper of water and returned to the pile of wood. He wasn’t arguing with a pair of disappointed nine-year-olds. They didn’t know what was good for them. Even sixteen-year-olds couldn’t know. Wasn’t he proof of that?

At the end of the day, the twins ate their meals in accusing silence and went to bed without being told. Ladd reached over the edge of the cot and held Allie’s hand.

Their displeasure with Abel festered. But what choice did he have? He sat alone after they’d fallen asleep and faced his quandary. Without help, he would have to abandon plans to build a bigger cabin. They could spend the winter in this one just fine, if he had enough firewood to ward off the cold. On nicer days he could take the children to the woods with him, but how many nice days could he count on? As if to answer his question, the wind moaned through the treetops. God in heaven, I’m counting on You to help me. Maybe even send—he didn’t finish the request. Send someone to help. Mercy certainly wasn’t an answer to prayer.

He woke slowly the next morning. His eyelids didn’t want to face the day. His limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. But lying abed would not solve his problems.

He sighed and rolled over. The bed beside him was empty. He patted both sides to make sure. His eyelids jerked open. Where was Ladd? In the weak light Allie looked at him from her trundle bed, eyes wide and watchful.