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?
“Robbie, come wash up for supper.”
He jerked as if she’d struck him, and his chin jutted out. “Leave me alone.”
“Your father will soon be here, and he expects you washed and ready to sit down.”
Robbie gave her his fiercest glower.
“Robbie, I think your mother would want you to do your best to please your father.”
His scowl deepened. “She won’t know what I do.”
“Maybe not. But you will. You know what would please her. You can honor her by doing it.”
He turned his back to her and continued moving a pile of dirt. It seemed he did his best to make sure most of it fell on him.
“Robbie, please come to the house.” She kept her tone firm and soft.
“You ain’t my mother.”
“I know that.” She didn’t expect she could replace their mother if she married Abe—when she married Abe, she corrected. “No one can replace your mother.” She let the words sink in.
“I betcha Linc didn’t wash his hands when he camped out with cows.”
“I have no idea if he did or didn’t, but I noticed how well he cleaned up before coffee.” She’d noticed far too well, taking in how his face shone from the scrubbing and how his hair, bleached almost blond on the ends but darker where it had been hidden from the sun, had been plastered back in an attempt to tame the curls. How they slowly returned to their own wayward tangle.
She’d had to refrain from checking her hair to see if her curls were doing likewise. “He cleaned up really well.” Her words had a difficult time squeezing past the tightness in her throat.
Robbie studied her reply for a moment, then bolted to his feet to race across the yard. He didn’t slow down as he passed her, nor did he glance toward her. His whole attitude clearly said he would wash up because a man like Linc, a man he admired, had done so. He would not do it to please Sally. No siree.
She sighed and followed him inside. Would she and Robbie ever have anything but an uneasy truce? She didn’t have time to think about that at the moment with dessert to finish, potatoes to mash and the meat to check. She took dishes from the top shelf—the best everyday dishes—found a red checkered tablecloth and set the table as nicely as she could. Too bad she didn’t have flowers to put in a vase in the middle of the table.
This meal would be flawless. Abe would see that she could run his home as well as any woman.
Robbie came from the back room, water dripping from his ears. He’d combed his hair back.
“You look very spiffy.”
He jerked to a halt and gave her a look fit to fry her skin. “I do not.”
Instantly she realized she’d offended him. Actually, it was pretty hard to miss. She knew exactly what she’d done wrong. She’d made him sound like a sissy. “You’re right. You look like a frontier man. Maybe even a cowboy. Ready to get out and ride.”
He held her gaze a moment then tipped his chin in barely there acknowledgment before he crossed to the table with a faintly familiar swagger.
She didn’t have to think hard to know where she’d seen it before. Robbie had done his best to imitate Linc’s rolling gait.
No, she definitely wasn’t the only one in this house to be affected by his presence. She stiffened her spine and held her chin high. Only she wasn’t a child. She was an adult who knew exactly what she wanted. A stable life, a nice home. No way she’d ever consider camping out on the prairie to be something romantic.
The strains of “Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,” echoed through her head. She meant every word of the song.
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