Linda Ford - Falling for the Rancher Father

Allie brightened. “We could go with her.”

He blinked before the eagerness in his daughter’s expression. “You could not.” What a dreadful, sordid life for a child.

Ladd sighed long. “She’s not going for a while. She might change her mind after she gets to know us better.” His shoulders sagged. “But she’s very good. I guess she won’t change her mind.”

“There you go.” Abel should be relieved that they’d accepted the facts of Mercy’s friendship but, instead, he felt as if he had jerked a rug out from under their feet.

A noise against the side of the cabin snapped Abel’s head in that direction. Both children bolted to their feet. “Mercy,” they yelled.

He grabbed two arms and planted the pair firmly back in their chairs. “Mercy would not be rubbing against the house. Sit here and be quiet.” He grabbed his rifle from over the door. If that whiskered man from the woods thought to bother Abel and his children...

“Don’t shoot her,” Allie whispered.

“Sit and be still.” He tiptoed to the door, quietly opened it and inched out far enough to see the side of the cabin. A deer. They sure could use fresh meat, but he wouldn’t shoot an animal with his children watching. Besides, this was a doe. He’d find a buck out in the woods. He signaled to the children to come and held his finger to his lips so they’d know enough to be quiet.

They joined him.

“Awww,” Allie whispered, the faint noise startling the doe, who bounced into the trees and disappeared.

Allie stared after her. “What did she want?”

He shepherded them back inside though the wind was still and the air promised a warm day. “I don’t know. Maybe she is curious. Maybe she’s been here before when no one lived here.”

“Maybe she thinks this is her house.” Allie looked about ready to burst into tears.

“No, baby. I don’t think so. Deer like to be among the trees. They don’t live in buildings.”

Allie sniffled. “You’re sure?”

“Very.”

Ladd had remained at the door. “Here she comes.”

Abel didn’t have to look up to understand he meant Mercy. Allie raced to join her brother. Abel took his time going to their side, though truthfully he was as relieved as the twins to see her ride to the cabin. But only because he needed to take advantage of the autumn weather while it lasted.

She called, “Hello,” then led her horse to the corral.

Which gave him almost enough time to convince himself he only cared because he had work to do and her presence would enable him to get at it. Besides, he still wasn’t persuaded the twins were completely safe with her. What if she decided to shoot her guns off? Or race her horse around with the twins on its back?

He hurried inside to get his coat and hat and leave before she entered the tiny space. They met at the doorway.

She carried a bulging gunnysack.

Both curiosity and caution stopped him in his tracks. “What’s in there?” He couldn’t keep the ring of suspicion from his voice.

She chuckled. “You needn’t sound like you wonder if I’ve brought knives to let the children throw. Or guns to shoot.”

He worked to hide his discomfort; she’d correctly gauged his concern. “I am their only parent.”

“Yup. I figured that out. Relax. I merely brought some things to keep the children occupied. See for yourself.” She opened the sack and held it out for him to peer in.

Papers, books, cookies? His mouth watered. How long since he’d had cookies? He swallowed back the saliva and nodded. “Looks harmless enough.”

“I keep telling you I am not so foolish as to do something to hurt a child.”

He looked at her and saw the way she tried to hide her emotion. But she didn’t quite succeed. Her lips tightened slightly and her eyes were too wide.

With a stab in his gut, he realized he’d hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest you would.” Yet hadn’t he, despite how well she’d done yesterday? The children had told him about their day in great detail. How they’d shown her all the things he’d bought before their arrival—new clothes, food and winter supplies. They’d shown her their books and their few toys. Told him how they’d played a fun game of pretend family, then she’d let them help her prepare the meals.

His suspicion was unfounded. Yet his caution must remain. He had to keep the children safe. And somehow he knew Mercy was a risk to them. And to him, too, though he couldn’t say why he included himself. He had no intention of letting any woman upset the stability he’d worked so hard to establish for the children. Especially a woman whose stated goal was to join a Wild West show. He’d had enough of women who wanted only to run off for whatever reason.

His jaw creaked as he warned himself of all the dangers he invited into his life by asking Mercy to watch the children, but he didn’t see what else he could do at the moment.

It would only be for a day or two, he told himself, then he’d insist Mercy stay away from all of them.

* * *

Mercy watched Abel ride from the yard, then got the children to help her clean the little cabin. When they were done she lifted the gunnysack. “I brought something for you to do.”

“What? What?” Ladd jumped up and down.

“Can we see?” Allie bounced on her feet, then sighed and stood still.

Mercy wished she could tell the child to enjoy herself, but Abel said her heart might be damaged. Must the poor little girl live like an invalid all her life? Mercy had planned things to amuse both children—quiet, imaginative play for Allie, more vigorous activity for Ladd.

She pulled pieces of paper from the sack. “It doesn’t look like much yet, but this is everything we need to take a long, adventuresome trip.”

Both children studied the paper as if expecting a covered wagon to emerge.

The sun had already driven away the cooler night air. “It’s going to be a lovely day. Let’s sit outside and enjoy it while we have our adventure.” She grabbed a quilt off the bed and spread it under a tree that allowed her a good view of the clearing. She hadn’t seen the whiskered man again, nor had she placed him in her memories, but she meant to be cautious until she was certain he was either gone or posed no threat to them.

The three of them sat on the quilt, the children’s expressions eager.

“Would you like to go on a ship?”

“Where to?” Allie asked, her eyes gleaming.

“Where would you like to go?”

They looked puzzled.

“I crossed the ocean from my home in England in order to get here.” She described the ship. “Do you want to come with me?”

They both nodded, Ladd curious, Allie excited. Her porcelain cheeks had a healthy rosy tint to them. Or did the color signal heart problems? She’d asked Sybil and Linette about the child and both had warned her to watch for breathlessness, fatigue, chest pain or nausea. Sybil said she once knew a boy who had heart problems and his lips would get blue. Mercy saw none of those signs, so unless she witnessed evidence to the contrary she’d take it for natural coloring.

“I’ll show you how to make boats.” As she talked, she folded the paper into a boat shape and then made sailor hats for them.

“Let’s get ready for an adventure.” She told them of the tall smokestacks on the ship, the storms that blew and the way the waves rose so high.

She guided their play, letting Ladd climb the tree beside them and be the lookout while Allie stood on the ground acting as the captain, giving orders to Ladd.

Mercy watched Allie closely for any sign of fatigue or blueness around her lips. But the children played for a couple of hours before she felt she should direct them to quieter play.