Linda Ford - Falling for the Rancher Father

Her grin felt crooked. “You are that all right.”

“Sure am. Now why you following me?”

“I didn’t know it was you, now did I? I thought it might be a wolf.”

He made a derisive sound. “And if it was, were you figuring to shoot him with that?” He nodded at her pistol on the ground.

“I figured to scare him off.”

“Missy, you sure are a greenhorn. What if I’d been a bear?” He lowered the gun and hooted like he enjoyed finding someone so foolish. There was that word again. It burned clear up her throat that she’d inadvertently proved Abel’s opinion of her. Not that he’d ever know.

“I guess in hindsight, I was a little careless.” She let her hands fall to her side and her breath eased out when he didn’t object. “Who are you?”

The man’s dark eyes narrowed. “Ain’t none of yer business. Just leave me alone if you know what’s good for ya.”

“Gladly. Now can I go?”

“Where ya going?”

“Don’t see that’s any of your business.”

He waved the gun as if to remind her he had the upper hand.

She shrugged. “Just delivering a message to a man, then I’m going about my own business.” She emphasized the final two words.

“Then git. And forget you ever saw me.”

She started away.

“Not that you’ll ever see me again.”

“Suits me fine,” she muttered when she was well out of hearing. The woods were getting overrun with crazy men.

As she continued on her journey, something about the whiskered man bothered her. She’d seen him somewhere. But where? She couldn’t place him. Had it been under good circumstances or bad? Was he a danger, or harmless except for his craziness? She shrugged. What difference did it make? He was likely only passing through.

She reached Abel’s cabin. His horse stood saddled and waiting. He opened the door as she approached, the twins at his side. As soon as he saw who it was he eased the children back to the cabin and pulled the door closed.

She gritted his teeth. A person could almost think he didn’t welcome her presence. Almost? It couldn’t have been plainer unless he hung a big sign over the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Although his words were polite enough and his tone moderate, she felt the sharp edge of each syllable, and if not for her concern for Linette and Grady she would have reined Nugget around and left him to find out on his own her reason for coming. Instead, she swallowed a huge amount of resistance. “I brought a message from Linette. She and Grady are sick with colds and she asked you not to bring the children today.”

The harshness in his face fled, replaced with concern. “I trust they are not seriously ill.”

“Me, too.” Mercy’s heart had clenched at the thought of a sick child, but Linette assured her it was only a cold and normal for this time of year.

“Thank her for letting me know. I wouldn’t want Allie to get sick.”

“That’s what Linette said.”

The door creaked open and two little heads peeked out. “Hello, Miss Mercy,” the twins called.

“Hello, you two. How are you?”

“Good, thank you,” Allie said.

“Papa, are you going to take us with you to the woods now?” Ladd asked.

Abel looked toward the sky. The clouds had been thickening all morning. “I can’t. It looks like rain.”

Or snow, Mercy added silently.

“Then what are you going to do?” Ladd’s voice carried a huge dose of worry. “You said you had to get logs. Papa, we’ll be okay by ourselves. Won’t we, Allie?”

Allie nodded her head and looked determined.

“I’ll take care of Allie.” Ladd’s voice carried a hefty dose of concern.

Mercy’s eyes stung at Ladd’s sense of loyalty and responsibility. From the far recesses of her memory came a picture. She was about four, which would make Butler six. He’d held her hand tight as he helped her cross a bridge. As she looked at the memory, she realized there had never been any danger. The bridge was plenty wide enough that she wouldn’t fall off but only Butler’s hand had given her the courage to venture across.

Ladd’s promise to protect his sister reminded her of that moment.

Abel sighed deeply. “I really need to get those logs home.”

Was he going to leave the kids alone? “How old are you?” she asked them.

“Nine,” they answered together.

“But we’re very responsible,” Ladd assured her.

Mercy thought of the whiskered man in the woods. “Why don’t I stay with the children?” What had prompted her to make such an offer? He’d refuse without even considering it. After all, he’d made his opinion of her very plain. Foolish. The word stuck in her throat.

“Oh, please, Papa. Please.” Allie clasped her hands in a beseeching gesture and rounded her blue eyes.

Mercy hid a grin. Anyone who could deny such a plea would have to have a heart of stone.

“It’s an excellent idea, don’t you think, Papa?” Ladd added reasonableness to the request.

Mercy chewed her lip to keep from revealing her amusement.

Abel had his back to her, considering his children. Slowly he turned and faced her. His mouth drew back in a frown. Lines gouged his cheeks.

Even before he spoke, she knew he’d refuse.

Then Ladd tugged at his arm and Abel turned back to the children.

“Papa, you know you don’t have many days before winter.”

“You’re right, but still—” His shoulders rose and fell. He caught Allie’s chin. “Baby, you have to promise to take it easy.”

“I will, Papa.”

He placed his hand on Ladd’s head. “Sunshine, you have to promise to watch your sister.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And no Wild West stuff.”

Mercy coughed. “Shouldn’t you be giving me the instructions?”

He faced her, rather reluctantly, she figured. “I will accept your offer but only because I’m desperate. It’s late in the season to be starting out and I must make up for lost time.”

“My,” she said, sighing as she pressed a palm to her chest, “your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

Allie giggled, then seemed to think better of it and smothered it with her hand.

Abel’s eyes narrowed. They were the same dark blue as his son’s, Mercy noted. And he had the same unruly dark blond hair half controlled by his hat. “You can put your horse in the pen.” He nodded in the general direction. “And thank you for offering to watch the children.”

His thanks was so begrudging that she laughed as she reined about and took care of Nugget.

He was in his saddle when she sauntered back to the cabin. “The children know where everything is. If you need anything, ask them.” But he made no motion toward leaving.

She favored him with the most innocent, sweet look she could manage when inside she bounced back and forth between amusement and annoyance. “We’ll do just fine. Don’t worry.” She knew full well that every minute he was gone he would worry she might do something foolish. Some rebellious portion of herself that she’d never tamed urged her to add, “I’ll try not to do anything foolish.”

At the look on his face, she laughed.

Ladd and Allie stood in the doorway. “We’ll be good, Papa. Truly we will.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He rode away.

Mercy didn’t wait for him to disappear from sight before she shepherded the twins inside and closed the door. “It’s getting colder by the minute,” she said by way of explanation for her hurry. She’d never been in the cabin before. Hadn’t been the least bit interested in it. Now she glanced around taking in every detail. Which didn’t take more than a minute. The cabin was smaller than Jayne and Seth’s. Only one tiny room. The small cookstove would more than heat the place on most days. She expected by the time the fire was hot enough to boil water the room would be hot enough to make a grown man drip with sweat. Only one tiny window allowed in light. The few shelves lining the wall overflowed with books, clothing, hardware. One corner of the ceiling had a definite sway to it. She recalled noticing damage to the roof outside. Abel had real cause for hurry if he meant to give these children a warm, safe place for the winter and she knew he did.