outside. “Thanks again.” He strode away, his long legs quickly creating distance.
She stared after him as he returned to the crab apple trees and gathered the branches he’d removed. His arms full, he headed for the garbage barrel by the ash pile and broke the branches to stuff them into the barrel. What did she hear? She lifted the window sash and listened.
“Oh, do you remember sweet Betsy from Pike?”
He was singing.
She listened in fascination. He didn’t have a particularly fine singing voice. In fact, it was gravelly, as if he sang past a mouthful of marbles, and he missed a few of the notes. But what he lacked in talent, he more than made up for in enjoyment. The notes fairly danced through the air and frolicked into her heart, where they skipped and whirled until they were well embedded.
The front door slammed. Carol skidded into the kitchen and stored the broom. She headed for the back door. “He’s singing.” She left again so fast, Sally didn’t even have time to close the window and pretend she hadn’t been listening as eagerly as young Carol.
Carol trotted to the garden to stand by Robbie. Shoulder to shoulder they watched and listened to Linc, who continued to break branches, oblivious to his adoring audience.
Sally studied the two children. Both were under his spell. She slammed the window shut. They were children, prone to hero worship. She, on the other hand, was a grown woman who knew better than to chase after … after what? She didn’t even know what she thought she’d been chasing. Certainly not stability or sensibility. She turned and studied the kitchen. Very modern, with an electric refrigerator Abe had shipped all the way from Toronto. A gas range stood in the corner to be used in hot weather. He’d shown her how to light the pilot and how to set the controls on the oven, but Sally had never used a gas stove and wondered if she would ever be comfortable doing so. She preferred to use the coal cookstove.
Abe was very proud of the modern fixtures, especially the stove. “It’s a Canadian invention,” he said with enough pride that Sally thought he would like to take credit for the innovation.
She shifted her gaze, itemizing the benefits of the house. Two stories. Four bedrooms and an indoor bathroom upstairs. All the bedrooms had generous closets.
Downstairs, besides the kitchen and back room, there was a formal dining room, complete with a china cabinet holding a fancy twelve-place dishware collection. Sally thought the plain white dishes with gold trim rather unnoteworthy. Her choice of pattern would have been something with a little color in the form of a flower. There were so many lovely rose patterns.
“I like to entertain here,” Abe had said, indicating the formal dining room and the array of dishes. “Dinner parties for my business associates.” He eyed the dark wood paneled room with windows covered by heavy forest-green drapes shutting out most of the light. Obviously it was his favorite room in the house.
Sally had nodded, her smile wooden. She could cook a meal for twelve with no problem. But a dinner party? Business associates? It sounded stiff and dull.
She gave herself a little shake. Of course she could do a dinner party. No need to be nervous because she didn’t know Abe’s business associates and had never given a formal dinner. How hard could it be? Cooking was cooking.
And if she didn’t get to her meal preparations this minute, she would be hard-pressed to have supper ready when Abe came through the door.
She hurried to the back room and found potatoes. As she peeled them, she enjoyed a view of the backyard. Robbie played in his fort. Carol sat cross-legged nearby, scratching in the dirt. She paused often to glance up, a dreamy look on her face. Sally didn’t need to follow the direction of her gaze to know the reason. Linc had returned to pruning the crab apple trees. From what she could see, he removed a great number of branches. The trees looked downright sparse. I hope he knows what he’s doing. Abe would be very upset if Linc killed the trees.
Linc stepped back and surveyed the damage, then hoisted the ladder to his shoulder and went to the little shed. After stowing the ladder, he headed for the house. His gaze flicked to the window and he smiled.
Sally developed a sudden interest in the task of peeling potatoes and hoped he didn’t think she’d been staring.
He knocked.
She dried her hands on a towel, smoothed her apron and walked slowly to the door just to prove she had other things holding her attention. “Yes?”
“I’m headed home to check on my pa. Tell Abe I’m done with the trees and will start working on the barn tomorrow, unless he prefers I do something else.”
“I’ll let him know.” Abe no doubt would have specific ideas of what he wanted done and in what order.
“I’m off then.” He took a step toward the back gate.
“I hope your pa is okay. Say hello to your grandmother for me.”
He touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll do that.” His mouth pulled to one side. He seemed to consider saying something more, then nodded without voicing his thought. “See you tomorrow.” And he swung away, passing the garden. He echoed a goodbye to the children before he vaulted over the fence, not bothering with the gate.
Sally stared after him until he disappeared from view behind the board fence. Even then she continued to stare. What was it about this man that pulled at her so hard? Like a promise. Of what? The man was a cowboy. By his own confession, he slept on the cold, hard ground, often with nothing but cows for company. It should have turned him into a recluse or at least a man with poor social skills. Linc might not fit into everyone’s idea of a refined gentleman, yet there was something about him. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she also couldn’t deny its existence, even though she wanted to.
“Is he coming back tomorrow?”
Sally’s gaze lingered one more heartbeat, her mind indulged in one more puzzled thought, then she turned to Carol who stood before her, her face a mixture of hope and fear. “Your father has hired him to do yard work. I should think he’ll have enough to keep him busy for a week or two. Perhaps even a month.” She utterly failed to keep a note of joy out of her words.
“Good.” Carol marched past her, into the house and up the stairs. The words of a song trailed after her. “Oh, do you remember sweet Betsy from Pike?”
An echo sounded from the garden in a low, monotone singsongy voice.
Sally stared. Robbie was singing? Come to think of it, he’d been pleasantly occupied all day building his fort. She watched, her eyes narrowed in concentration. In her experience, Robbie being content was foreign. The few times it happened had led to a major explosion. Maybe he’d wait until she left to shift into defiance. Except … how would Abe deal with it? He had little patience with Robbie acting out. “Losing his mother will not be tolerated as an excuse,” Abe insisted. Yes, she understood Robbie must find a better way to express his displeasure but—
Lord, these children are hurt and frightened by their loss. Help me help them. Help them find joy in life and be able to believe they can again be safe.
She thought of how she’d found the feeling of safety after her father died, through helping her mother and sisters keep things organized and in control, doing what she thought her father would approve of. How could she help these children find the same sense of safety?
