Buch lesen: «The Cowboy Comes Home»
“So the opinion of the good folk of Golden Prairie hasn’t changed?”
Linc’s words were low, as if resigned to the inevitable.
Sally didn’t answer.
“What do you think?”
His question, so direct, so void of emotion, jarred her from trying to maintain disinterest. She jerked her gaze to him and saw something in his eyes that said he wasn’t as uncaring as he tried to portray.
She swallowed hard. “I think …” Her heart opened up and dumped out a tangle of emotions—things she couldn’t identify and didn’t want to own. They seemed to pull her in a hundred different directions. “I think Abe is right. You deserve a chance.”
His expression faltered. He shifted on his feet, then nodded. “Does that mean we can be friends?”
She smiled softly. “It looks like we already are.”
“Good to know.” His words were brisk.
Had she disappointed him? Friends was good, wasn’t it?
Strange, then, how it felt totally unsatisfactory. As if she’d fallen short of gaining a prize.
The Cowboy
Comes Home
Linda
Ford
MILLS & BOON
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My God will supply all you need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
—Philippians 4:19
For Sierra.
As my eldest granddaughter you hold a special place in my heart. It has been my joy to watch you grow and see you become a beautiful young woman. I hope we can become closer in the future. My prayer is that you will find true joy and meaning in life through opening your heart to God’s love. I love you.
Chapter One
Golden Prairie, Alberta, Canada
Spring 1934
She needed eyes in six places at once to keep track of that child.
“Robbie!” An edge of annoyance worked itself into Sally Morgan’s voice. Yes, she understood how a boy who was about to turn six might be upset by so many changes in his life. His mother had passed away just after Christmas. His maternal grandmother had stayed until spring and then Sally started coming during the day. But the child needed to realize life was easier if he didn’t fight every person and every rule.
Sally found Carol playing with her doll in the patch of grass next to the big tree at the front of the lot, her plain brown hair as tidy as when she’d left for school. Even her clothes were still neat and clean. The girl was only eight but had adjusted much better than her brother. “Have you seen Robbie?”
Carol didn’t even glance up from her play. Simply shook her head.
“Where can he be this time?” As soon as she’d realized he was missing she’d searched the house. She’d looked in the shed in the back of the lot where he often hid. Now she marched toward the barn. The children’s father would be home shortly and expecting his meal. She’d left the food cooking on the stove. If she found Robbie soon she could hope to keep supper from burning.
She stepped into the cool, dark interior of the barn, now unused. Mr. Finley didn’t own a horse. He drove a fine car instead. “Robbie!” she yelled, then cocked her head to listen. She heard nothing but the echo of her voice, the flap and coo of pigeons disturbed by her noisy presence and the scurry of mice heading for safety.
She left the barn and turned her gaze to the narrow alley separating the fine big yard on the edge of town from the farm on the other side. Would Robbie have ventured into forbidden territory? Most certainly he would if the notion struck.
Sparing a brief glance at the house where the meal needed attention, she headed for the gate, pausing only long enough to call to Carol, “You stay there while I find Robbie.”
Her steps firm with determination and mounting frustration, she strode across the dusty track to the sagging wire fence. From where she stood she saw nothing but the board fence around the back of the barn. Sighing loudly, she stuck her foot on the wobbly wire to clamber awkwardly over the fence. She landed safely on the far side and hurried forward. Three steps later she skidded to a halt.
A man leaned against the fence. A man with an I-own-the-world stance, a cowboy hat pushed back to reveal a tangle of dark blond curls, and a wide grin wreathing his face. She spared him a quick study. Faded brown shirt, tied at the neck like a frontier man of years ago. Creased denim trousers. He dressed like he’d very recently come off a working ranch.
Sally’s worry about Robbie collided with surprise at seeing a man in Mrs. Shaw’s yard. A sight, she added, that made her feel a pinch in the back of her heart. It had to be the way she’d hurried about searching for Robbie that made her lungs struggle for air.
Robbie. She’d almost forgotten she was looking for him. Her gaze lingered on the man two more seconds. Then she forced herself forward another step, following the direction the man looked.
Her heart headed for runaway speed.
Robbie stood within reach of the hooves of a big horse.
She choked back a warning. If anything startled the animal he could trample Robbie, which would certainly reinforce some of the things the boy had been told, like don’t go near a horse that doesn’t know you. Stay out of people’s yards unless invited—but she had no desire to see him learn in such a harsh fashion.
“That’s it. No sudden moves.”
She didn’t need to turn to know the deep voice came from the man leaning against the fence. He sounded every bit as relaxed as he looked. Her gaze darted back to him. Yes. Still angled back as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. He was a stranger to her. She knew nothing about him except what she saw, but it was enough to convince her it took a lot to upset his world.
She envied him his serenity.
“His name is Big Red. I just call him Red.”
“Can I touch him?” Robbie’s childish voice quivered with eagerness.
She shifted her attention back to him. Normally the boy didn’t ask permission and if he did, he paid no mind if it was refused, but he stood stock still waiting for the man to answer.
“Sure. He’s as tame as a house kitty. But speak to him first. Maybe tell him your name and say his, like you want to be friends.”
Sally watched in complete fascination as Robbie obeyed.
“Hi, Big Red. My name is Robbie Finley. Can I be your friend?” Slowly, cautiously, perhaps a bit fearfully, the boy reached out and touched the horse’s muzzle. The horse whinnied as if answering the boy.
Robbie laughed out loud.
The horse lifted his head, rolled back his lips and gave an unmistakable horse laugh.
Sally chuckled softly. It was all so calm. Sweet even. Not at all the way Robbie usually behaved.
“I suppose you’ve come for the boy?” The man peeled himself from the fence and headed in her direction.
Her amusement fled. Feeling exposed and guilty, she glanced about. She was trespassing, along with Robbie. But that didn’t bother her as much as the foolish reaction of her heart and lungs, her thoughts and skin—she’d never known her skin to tingle so that it made her cheeks burn. It was how the man grinned that filled her with a need to run and hide.
“Allow me to introduce myself. Linc McCoy.”
She nodded, unable to push a word to her brain let alone her mouth. The name had a familiar ring to it. Or was it only her stupid reaction making her think she’d heard it before?
“Are you Robbie’s mother?”
Words jolted from her mouth. “Oh, no.” A rush of them followed. “His mother is dead. I’m only the housekeeper. I take care of them. Every day. I make meals and—” Then a blank mind.
“Oh. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
Pleasure? Yes, it was a word that fit this man. He seemed to embrace life with his smile, his relaxed stance. Even his dark eyes—brown as mink fur—said life was good. Fun. To be enjoyed. Ah. That would explain why Robbie had responded so well to him. Robbie didn’t have much use for rules or anything interfering with his idea of fun. She tried to think how unnatural it was in a grown man but instead she smiled back, as bemused as Robbie was with the horse. Suddenly she realized he grinned because she hadn’t given her name. When had she ever been so foolish? So slow thinking? “I’m Sally Morgan.”
“Looks like we’ll be neighbors.”
Another burst of words shot from her mouth. “Oh, no. I don’t live here. I only come in the daytime. I live out of town.” She waved in vaguely the direction of the Morgan home. “Not very far from town. Just a nice walk. I come to take care of the house and the children.”
How could she have forgotten her responsibility? “Come along, Robbie. Your father will be home shortly.”
Robbie stuck out his lip in an all-too-familiar gesture.
Linc McCoy strode to the boy’s side with a rolling gait. “Nice meeting you, Robbie. Red says so, too, don’t you, Boy?”
The horse whinnied and nodded his head.
“See. He agrees.”
Robbie giggled, but when he turned back to Sally his look overflowed with rebellion. He had the same coloring as his sister, brown hair, brown eyes. On Carol it was sweet. Not a word she would use to describe Robbie.
Mr. McCoy planted a hand on Robbie’s shoulder and turned him toward Sally. “You run along now. Perhaps you can visit again.”
“Only with permission,” Sally warned.
“That’s right. You have to ask before you come over. Wouldn’t want to worry Miss Morgan, would you?” He shifted his warm, steady gaze to Sally, and her breath stuck halfway up her windpipe. “It is Miss, isn’t it?”
She nodded. It was an innocent enough question. It was only her befuddled brain making her think it brimmed with interest. “Yes.” If she didn’t get back in a matter of minutes, not only would supper be ruined but she was bound to say something really and truly stupid.
Robbie didn’t protest when she grabbed his hand and hustled him to the fence. He scampered over, but she hesitated. There was no graceful way to climb over and land on her feet.
Mr. McCoy followed her. “Allow me.” He pushed the wire down with his foot and extended his hand to help her over.
What a predicament. Place her hand in his and most certainly stumble over her tongue, or climb over on her own and most certainly stumble to the ground.
She chose dignity over wisdom, placed her fingers in his cool firm palm and wobbled her way over the swaying wire. “Thank you,” she murmured, managing to make her thick tongue say the two syllables without tangling them.
Abe’s car pulled into the narrow driveway.
Oh, no. She couldn’t possibly make it back before he discovered her absence. “Run, Robbie.” She grabbed his hand and fled for the back door.
They burst into the house. Sally choked on the burnt smell. Abe held a smoking pot in his tea-towel-protected hand.
“I’m sorry,” Sally gasped and rushed to take the pot. The potatoes were ruined. She dumped the pot in the sink and quickly checked the rest of the meal. The green beans she’d shoved to the back of the stove looked a little limp but were edible. The meat simmered in now glutinous gravy, but it could be salvaged with the addition of hot water. “Everything will be ready in a minute or two. I’ll call Carol.” But when she turned to do so, Abe blocked her way.
“Where were you? I come home expecting supper and discover my daughter home alone, you and my son missing. Did you let him run away again?”
Her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth. She sucked saliva to moisten it. Why did he blame her when Robbie was so difficult?
“I need someone who can handle my home and children.”
She nodded miserably. She had always considered herself efficient until she started work here. And her future depended on proving it. Everyone knew Abe Finley was in need of a new wife and mother for his children. He was a man with a good home and a government job that offered stability. Too bad he couldn’t smile with as much pleasure as Mr. McCoy did. She dismissed the thought before it had a chance to roost.
“It won’t happen again.” Not if she had to chain Robbie to the stove.
“I’m glad to hear that.” He turned on his heel. “Call me when you have things properly organized.”
She was organized. She did watch his children with due care. A thousand protests sprang to her mind but were quickly squelched as she turned back to the stove. Abe wasn’t unkind. He simply liked things done properly, neatly. It wasn’t too much to expect. Especially if she wanted him to offer marriage to make the arrangement permanent.
Too bad he couldn’t enjoy life as much as Linc McCoy appeared to.
Sally slammed a pot lid on the cupboard with more force than necessary. Why was she thinking about a stranger when her future lay in this house? If she proved herself acceptable—and she vowed she would. And who was Linc McCoy to be hanging about Mrs. Shaw’s place like he owned it?
She managed to present a passable meal, substituting slabs of bread for the potatoes. Her father had always said there was nothing quite as good as bread and gravy, but she could tell Abe didn’t share the opinion. However, he ate without complaint and pushed from the table a little later, having eaten enough to satisfy most any appetite.
“You did fine despite your mistakes. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She met his gaze for a moment but as always felt awkward and darted her glance past him to the dirty dishes. “I’ll wash up before I head home.”
“I appreciate that.”
Yet somehow she wondered if he did, or if he expected it. Immediately she scolded herself for her wicked thoughts. Why was she suddenly so keen to criticize him? She had no right. She was here to do a job. With the unspoken agreement that it could lead to more.
A window stood over the sink and as she washed dishes, she glanced out frequently. She faced the back of the yard, toward Mrs. Shaw’s place. A gate near the barn swung back and Linc, astride Big Red, rode out. He sat on the horse like the two were one, his hat pulled low to shield his eyes from the slanting rays of the sun. Red raced down the alley between the two properties. Linc and Red flowed like fast-moving water down the fence line. At the corner, the horse reared.
Sally’s heart clamored up her throat. He was going to be thrown.
But instead, he let out a loud whoop that reached her through the open window. Then he laughed and rode back.
He saw her staring at him and waved his hat, grinning so widely and freely it tugged at some remote part of her heart. Oh, to feel so free and full of enjoyment.
With another whoop, he guided the horse past the barn and out of sight.
She didn’t know who he was, but he certainly seemed to think life was a lark. She forced her attention back to the stack of dirty dishes and hoped he would ride fast and far, out of her thoughts.
Linc galloped two miles down the road before he turned and allowed Red to keep a sedate pace on the way back to his grandparents’ farm—now Grandmama’s farm. Grandpa had died two years ago and ever since, Grandmama had been begging Linc to come back and help her.
He might never have come, except for the way things had worked out.
He settled back in the saddle and thought of the afternoon. Little Robbie had ventured into the corral, unaware Linc watched. The little boy wore nice clothes but an unhappy expression. He wondered what brought such a look to a child’s face until Sally said the boy’s mother had died. Linc understood how that felt. His own mother had died when he was but fifteen. Much older than Robbie, but still too young to be motherless. Mothers kept the family together, provided a moral compass. Without a mother … well, his family had certainly gone downhill. Not that he intended to dwell on it or try to find someone or something to pin the blame on.
His mood shifted and he grinned as he thought of Sally. He didn’t remember her from before, so the Morgans must have moved in after they left when he was sixteen. Otherwise he would have certainly remembered her. Even then he liked a good-looking woman. And Sally was certainly that, with wavy brown hair falling to her shoulders, capturing the sun’s rays like miser’s gold in each wave. Eyes the color of olive-green water, like he’d seen in the mountains to the west. Eyes that widened in surprise at seeing him, narrowed with caution before taking his hand. He rubbed his hand against the warm denim on his leg. He had only meant to be helpful, but her cool flesh against his had felt like a hot iron, searing her brand on his palm. He pressed his fist to his chest, feeling marked inside as well and ignored the urge to thump himself on the forehead at such silly ideas. He dropped his hand back to his leg.
Obviously a proper young woman.
Even if she didn’t know the McCoy reputation, she would soon enough hear it. Not that it mattered what people said. He’d tried to tell his pa and older brother so six years ago. Stay and prove the rumors false, he’d said. But he was only sixteen and they weren’t about to listen to him.
Now he was back and determined to do what he’d wanted back then—prove the McCoys were not sticky-fingered scoundrels.
And of course, care for his injured father.
Time to get back to the task.
Despite the duties calling him, he took his time unsaddling Red, then spent a leisurely thirty minutes grooming him and tidying up the barn before he headed for the house. He paused inside the door and breathed in the homey scents of yeasty bread and cinnamon. No matter where he’d gone in the past six years, he’d missed this place.
Grandmama sat in her favorite spot—a rocking chair by the window—doing needlework. “I ‘spect you’re missing your freedom.”
He understood what she didn’t say. That she feared he would leave again as soon as Pa—
Memories of a pretty face flashed through his brain. Even if he had planned to leave, getting to know Miss Sally better was enough to make him reconsider. “I never wanted to go in the first place.”
Grandmama glanced up then. “You should have stayed. You could stay now and run this place.”
He wondered if anyone else would hope he’d remain. “I had to go with Pa and Harris.” Though he couldn’t exactly say why. Guess the same loyalty that brought him back with Pa. “How is he?”
“Haven’t heard from him.”
Which meant he was sleeping. The painkiller the doctor provided was doing its job. Once it wore off, Pa would start hollering and cussing. Poor Grandmama—having to listen to Pa in one of his rages. Yet when Linc showed up on the doorstep dragging his injured father, she had calmly opened the door and welcomed them. And she’d cried when Linc said Harris had died in the mining accident that injured Pa.
“He was my oldest grandson. Despite his rebellious ways I have never stopped loving him and praying for him.” She’d hugged Linc long and hard. “Are you still walking in your faith?” she asked when her tears were spent.
He’d had his struggles, his ups and downs and times of doubt, but he was happy to be able to give her the answer she longed for. “I hold fast to my faith and God’s love.”
“I don’t suppose Harris or your Pa ever made that choice?”
“Not Pa. I don’t know about Harris. You know how he always tried so hard to please Pa.” Even if Harris believed in God, he might well hide it from Pa so as to not incur his displeasure.
“Then this is why God sent you home. To allow Jonah another chance to change his ways. My Mary would want her husband to become a Christian.”
Linc permitted himself a moment of aching emptiness at the mention of his mother’s name, then pulled his thoughts back to the present. “I’ll check on him.” He strode to the bedroom off the front room where Grandmama had made up a bed for Pa. Pa murmured in his sleep. Doc said the drugs made him restless, but for the moment he seemed comfortable. The bruises on his face had faded to yellow and the swelling had subsided. His leg was bound and splinted. Doc changed the dressings on it every day. But it was the injuries to his chest that had done the most damage. Doc said he couldn’t tell how badly Pa’s internal organs had been damaged. His chances were slim, Doc had been honest enough to say. “About all we can do is keep him comfortable.”
Which meant giving him pain medication.
Linc shook the bottle of medicine. It was almost empty. As were his pockets. It had taken a whack out of his savings to bury Harris and the rest to get himself, Red and his father home. He’d have to find himself some sort of work in order to keep the bottle full.
Satisfied his Pa didn’t need anything for the moment, he returned to the kitchen and sat at the table, turning his chair to face Grandmama.
“I met a young lady today. Sally Morgan. Do you know her?”
Grandmama carefully put away the yarn and folded the piece of fabric she worked on before setting it on the little table beside her chair. “I know the Morgans. Mr. Morgan died a few years back. The two older girls have married recently. Louisa, the eldest, married a widower with a little girl. They adopted one of the orphan girls before they headed west where he has a ranch. Madge and her husband now own the Cotton farm. They’re a hard-working young couple.”
“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t so interested in the family as in Sally.
“Miss Sally is working for our neighbor, Abe Finley.”
He knew that, too.
“He’s a widower with two young children.”
“I met Robbie. He came to visit me and my horse.”
“Young Robbie has been a bit of a …” She hesitated. “A concern since his mother died.”
Linc smiled. “You couldn’t come right out and say he’s a defiant child?” He’d seen the way he’d glowered at Sally when she said he had to go home.
Grandmama sniffed. “I don’t believe in speaking ill of others.”
“Too bad others don’t share your view.” If they did, Linc and his father and brother wouldn’t have felt they had to leave town six years ago. And maybe Harris would still be alive. He missed his brother. A blast of sorrow hit Linc and he looked out the window, waiting for it to pass.
He saw the corrals out the window and remembered he was asking about Sally. “So what do you know about Miss Sally?”
Grandmama gave him her best warning expression. “Everyone expects she and Abe will decide to marry. So you stay away from her, you hear?”
“This understanding that everyone has, is it official?”
Grandmama’s eyes narrowed. “There’s been no announcement, if that’s what you mean. But you listen to me, Lincoln McCoy—”
Uh-oh. When she used his full name, he knew she was deadly serious.
“Abe Finley is a fine match for Sally. Don’t you go interfering with it.”
And he wasn’t suitable? Is that what she meant?
“You hear me?”
Linc sighed. He wouldn’t argue with her. After all, she had given shelter to Pa and she didn’t even like him much. Just as she’d welcomed the four of them when they returned eight years ago, when Ma was filled with cancer and dying. And perhaps she was right. He was a McCoy, after all, and even if he convinced everyone they hadn’t stolen the things they’d been accused of, he would still be a McCoy—and who were they but wanderers? Pa never stayed long in one place. In fact, come to think of it, the two years they’d spent on this farm made the longest he could remember being in one place.
Grandmama nudged his leg. “You hear me?”
“I hear ya.” What he heard was there was no formal agreement between Sally and Abe.
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