Wolf Creek Wedding Page 2

  Caleb’s gaze moved back to the boy, who regarded him with unconcealed apprehension. The baby had pushed to a sitting position amid the broken shards, poked two fingers into her mouth and regarded him with the same intensity as her brother. Then, in the span of a heartbeat, she plopped her plump palms to the floor and headed for a colorful, gilt-edged piece that snagged her interest.

  Scowling with amazement at how fast she switched her focus, Caleb strode across the room and swung her up just as she was about to grab the jagged shard. To his surprise, she gave a gurgle of laughter. Marveling again at the quicksilver shifting of her attention, he turned her to face him, holding her out at arm’s length. She rewarded his frown with a wide grin. Something about that sweet and innocent smile with its four gleaming teeth took the edge from his anger. Arms straight out, he carried the baby to the sofa and plunked her smack-dab in the middle of the cushions.

  Sensitive to the situation he found himself in, and as uncertain how to deal with Abby Carter’s offspring as he was his infant daughter, he wondered what to do next. Other than him and his brother being children many years ago, he had never been around the peculiar little creatures, and what he knew about how to deal with them could be put in a thimble with lots of room left over. From what he’d observed around town, many of them were meddlesome and troublesome, which the recent incident proved. His tired, troubled gaze returned to the child who stood gaping at him in fearful anxiety. He had to do something.

  Caleb raked a hand through his tousled hair and pointed from the boy to the couch. “You,” he said in a too-quiet tone. “Sit.”

  * * *

  Wearing an anxious frown, Abby emerged from the kitchen holding a sleeping Betsy close. Just inside the doorway of the parlor, she stopped. Rachel was nowhere to be seen. Ben sat immobile on the sofa, looking as if he were afraid to even breathe. Laura, unaffected by the tension in the room, leaned against him, happily chewing on the hem of her dress. Caleb sat on the hearth, elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his folded hands, daring him to move. Abby’s lingering gratification at having helped Betsy Gentry and her father vanished.

  “Can we go home now?” Ben asked, both his voice and his lower lip trembling. “I don’t like it here.”

  Abby’s gaze swung from the fear on his face to Caleb Gentry, who sat watching the boy with the intensity of “a hawk watching a chicken,” as her grandmother might have said. Her heart sank. Ben had done something wrong. Her frantic gaze raked the room for confirmation, lighting on the pieces of what looked like a broken figurine that lay scattered on the polished floorboards.

  Rachel chose that moment to exit the bedroom, an armful of bedding clutched to her chest. “I’ll just take these to the laundry in town and bring them back in a few d—” She stopped in her tracks and looked from Abby to Caleb and back again.

  Sensing the tension in the room, Rachel said, “I’m sure the two of you have a lot to talk about. Just let me take these out to the carriage, and the children and I will go into the kitchen for some of those cookies you baked. You did bring them along, didn’t you, Abby? Ben, take Laura into the kitchen. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  It didn’t escape either Caleb or Abby that even though Rachel spoke in her most professional tone, she was almost babbling, something the no-nonsense doctor just didn’t do.

  Abby nodded, watching as Ben hefted his baby sister onto his hip and left the room, his relief almost palpable. Caleb’s frown grew even darker. When the children were gone, he made no move to address the disaster, other than to get up and begin picking up the bits of pottery. Watching him, Abby found herself torn between demanding to know what had happened and the urge to tell him that she would not be taking the job, after all. The memory of the bank’s letter stopped her. She could not afford to reject this lifeline out of hand.

  Why did you have to die on me, William? she thought angrily. Realizing how silly it was to berate her dead husband and knowing that even if he’d lived, she would still be in a pickle at the bank, she gave a deep sigh, placed the sleeping baby in her cradle and went to help clean up.

  She and Caleb worked together side by side, neither speaking as they picked up pieces of his past. Finally, he stood, held out his hands and said, “It was my mother’s.”

  Having been forced to part with several things that had once belonged to her own mother, Abby could imagine how he felt losing something dear to his heart just hours after losing his beloved wife. She straightened and placed the pieces she’d gathered into his big hands. The backs of her fingers brushed against his. Caleb stiffened. Abby stifled a small gasp and plunged her hands into the pockets of her skirt. Her confused gaze met his. The anger was gone, replaced by something akin to bewilderment.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Yes, well, so am I.” The strange moment passed, and once more his voice held a note of annoyance. “If the children had been seated as they should have been, it would never have happened.”

  Abby gasped, thoughts of foreclosure forgotten. Anger rose inside her like Wolf Creek floodwaters in the spring. How dare he say anything about her children! How dare he? From across the room, Betsy snuffled in her sleep. The slight sound was enough to remind Abby of the sorrow and strain the man standing before her must be feeling. Fearing that her eyes still held the remnants of irritation, she lifted her gaze no higher than the second button of his shirt.

  “You’re right,” she said with a nod. “They should have been seated.” Then, feeling that her babies had been unfairly judged, she couldn’t help adding, “But if you will recall, you were so anxious to see Betsy calmed when I arrived, that we weren’t even properly introduced.”

  Her meaning could not be clearer. Caleb had demanded that she do something to calm his daughter, and in her hurry to do so, Ben and Laura had been left in his and Rachel’s charge. Abby gave a small sigh. She probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. Being correct did not give one the right to say so.

  Her cautious gaze climbed up the tanned column of his throat to his rugged face. The red of either embarrassment or anger tinged his sun-darkened features. She stifled a groan and wished—as was often the case—that she could call back her rash statement. Dear Lord, I try to bridle my tongue; You know I do.

  Yes, He knew she fought a constant battle with her stubbornness and her temper, which flared hotly and died just as fast. Always had, and, she thought with another sorrow-filled sigh, probably always would. Her quick tongue had often landed her in trouble as she’d grown up, but when she’d met William, she met a man who valued her opinions, one who insisted that anyone as intelligent as she was should speak her mind. Though the final decision was always his, he had listened to her thoughts and ideas—an advantage she was aware that few wives were granted. As for her temper, more often than not, he just grabbed her in a big bear hug and held her until she quit struggling, laughing at her all the while, which quickly defused her ire and had her laughing with him.

  But Caleb Gentry was nothing like her husband, she thought, staring up at features that might have been carved from unyielding Arkansas stone. How could they ever deal with each other in a practical way when, aside from her brief, annoyed outburst, the thought of just speaking to him turned her legs to jelly?

  Before Caleb could say the words she knew were hovering on his lips, Rachel, the basket of cookies hooked over her wrist, returned, slanting Abby an uneasy look before disappearing into the kitchen. Abby stood, her chin high, all thought of retaliatory criticism dissolving as she realized that her brief spurt of provocation had probably jeopardized the job he offered.

  Without speaking, Caleb tossed the breakage into the ash bucket that sat near the fireplace. Swiping his hands on the legs of his denim pants, he turned to face her with his arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable expression in his unusual gray eyes.

  She was still trying to formulate an acceptabl
e apology when he heaved a great sigh and asked, “Is Betsy all right, then?”

  Surprised, both at the evenness of his voice and the turn of the conversation, Abby stammered, “Y-Yes. Fine. She was just hungry.”

  That basic problem, indeed the problem, cleared up to his satisfaction—at least for the moment—they stood there, their mutual strain growing with every indrawn breath. Finally, she took her courage in hand. Knowing that even if she had messed up her chance to provide for her children, she could not leave without offering him what comfort she could for the days to come; she cleared her throat.

  “Mr. Gentry,” she said, lacing her hands together at her waist to still their trembling. “I want you to know that I am very sorry for your loss, and while I cannot know your exact feelings, I do know what it’s like to lose a mate. My husband died eight months ago, shortly after Laura was born.”

  The expression in his eyes could only be described as bleak. “I had heard that.” He cocked his head to the side, regarding her with a curious expression. “Tell me, Mrs. Carter, did you love your husband?”

  Abby’s eyes widened with surprise at the personal nature of the question. “Of course.”

  “Well, let me assure you that in no way could your feelings be compared to mine.”

  Her breath caught at the strength of his statement, and her twisting hands stilled. He must have loved Emily very much, though it was hard to imagine such a fierce, hard man ever feeling any emotion as tender as love.

  Deciding to clear the air before she lost her courage, she said, “There are some things that we should talk about before we make the decision as to whether or not I accept the position you’re offering.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. He was not used to a woman taking the lead in the dialogue.

  “I agree.”

  “First, I would like to apologize again for the destruction of the figurine. Since I wasn’t here, I can’t say for certain how it happened, but please believe me when I say that Ben is seldom meddlesome, though he is quite curious, as most children are. I will be glad to repay you for it.” Nerves made her speech stilted and formal, and she had no idea how on earth she would make good on her promise if she did not land this job.

  “I didn’t see it happen, either, Mrs. Carter, and I concede that you were right in stating that I was anxious when you arrived and did not give you time to see that the children were properly settled. Most likely your baby—”

  “Laura,” she supplied.

  “Laura. Laura probably bumped into the table and toppled the figurine. We can certainly ask, uh—”

  “Ben.”

  “Yes, Ben.” He cleared his throat, and his next words seemed to come only with the greatest effort. “I would venture to guess that it was just an unfortunate accident.”

  She nodded, sensing how hard the admission must have been. “You should know about all our warts,” she said, determined to lay out possible problems beforehand. “Ben is very much a boy, and is often loud and rowdy, and Laura is just beginning to venture about and explore things....” Her voice trailed away on a sigh, and she lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. Surely he could see where she was leading.

  “They are good children, Mr. Gentry,” she said, an earnest expression on her face, “and they are easily set to rights, but they are children, nonetheless.”

  Sensing that he was about to speak, she rushed on. “Another thing. Ben still misses his father very much, and that grief manifests itself in different ways—sometimes tears, sometimes misplaced mischief and even anger. If I were to take this position, I would appreciate your showing us as much patience as possible as we try to find our way in our new roles. Of course, knowing the suddenness and depth of your loss, we will extend you the same courtesy.”

  She was surprised that Caleb did not interrupt as many men would have. Again, she chided herself for speaking with such boldness and ruining all chance of employment, but as much as she needed the position, it was more important that her family be happy.

  “I appreciate your honesty, Mrs. Carter,” he said in a tone whose mocking edge caused her to doubt the sincerity of the statement. “And you should understand that I’m unfamiliar with children as well as being rather set in my ways. It will take some time for us all to adjust. As you say, there will have to be compromises on both sides.”

  Abby swallowed hard. “I would like to apologize for my rude outburst. My husband was a man who felt women are intelligent individuals and should voice their opinions, even when those attitudes may cause discord.” She released a soft sigh of contrition and met his gaze with a stubborn determination. “I fear I have become used to doing just that. I realize that his attitude is not shared by other men and will do my best to bridle my tongue.”

  She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes, but he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “One more thing.”

  Abby looked at him, wondering what else was on his mind.

  “Since this will be your home for the next several months, I would appreciate it if you took on the responsibilities of cooking and cleaning. I will, of course, pay you extra for that.”

  Abby felt her mouth drop open in surprise. She snapped it shut, as her fair eyebrows puckered. “My home? I’m not sure I understand.”

  Another of those frowns drew his dark eyebrows together in an expression of surprise that mimicked hers. “Surely Rachel explained that you and the children would have to stay here for the next few months. At least until Betsy is of weaning age.”

  Chapter Two

  Abby’s eyes widened. “Do you mean live here?”

  Caleb resisted the urge to sigh. Without a word, he went to the kitchen door and summoned Rachel, who left Ben and Laura eating cookies. She came into the parlor, a troubled expression in the dark eyes that moved from one friend to the other.

  “I think you’d do a far better job than I in explaining to Mrs. Carter why it’s necessary for her and the children to make this their home for the next few months.”

  Rachel nodded and turned to Abby. “I can’t see any other way, can you?”

  When Rachel suggested Abby become Betsy’s wet nurse and told her to gather up enough things for a few days, Abby had been so eager to help and so thankful to see some ease from her financial problems that she hadn’t given much thought as to how seeing to Betsy’s needs would be accomplished or what it might entail.

  “Couldn’t I keep the baby at my place?”

  Rachel looked to Caleb with raised eyebrows. After he’d vetoed the idea of Abby and her children moving in with him because they would be “disrupting his life, poking through his things, tracking in dirt and whining,” Rachel had suggested that he allow Abby to take Betsy to her place until she was old enough to drink from a cup, at which time he could hire someone to care for her through the day, while he took the nights.

  Caleb had nixed the notion outright, proving the inflexibility he was known for. “Betsy belongs here,” he’d said. “Why can’t Mrs. Carter come over a few times a day and uh...feed...Betsy and then go home, or maybe she could stay all day and go home at night?”

  Clearly near the end of her rope with his stubbornness, Rachel had given him her most stern “doctor” look. “I understand how you feel, Caleb, but Abby lives almost two miles on the other side of town going toward Antoine. Around six miles from here. It would be impossible for her to traipse back and forth with two children in tow, especially with winter coming on. Besides, babies get hungry through the night, too, at least for a while. Caring for Betsy would be a full-time job. Still, she is your child, and it’s your decision.”

  Setting his jaw, Caleb had stared down at the baby. Neither scenario suited him, but he felt his resolve eroding in the face of necessity. As usual, he’d been given little choice i
n what happened in his life. With a sigh of acquiescence, he had set aside his feelings and agreed to what was required.

  “Betsy belongs here,” he said now, repeating his earlier answer while staring implacably into Abby Carter’s anxious eyes.

  Abby chewed on her bottom lip, her practical side battling her tender heart, weighing the facts as if they were on scales. On one side was the letter from the bank; on the other was a baby who needed her. She sighed. It all boiled down to one thing. Did she believe what she professed? Did she really trust that God was in control and that He answered prayers?

  She thought of her house situated a half mile off the road between Wolf Creek and Antoine, with its small, homey kitchen she’d made cheerful by the addition of yellow-print feed-sack curtains and the copper pots that once belonged to her mother—one of the few things she hadn’t sold. Leaving the home she’d shared with William held little appeal, but with no other way to catch up on her missed note payments, there was no doubt in her mind that she would be leaving it sooner or later. One way or the other.

  “How much are you willing to pay?” she asked, and gasped in surprise when she heard Caleb’s generous offer.

  “That would include your taking on the household chores and cooking that I mentioned earlier.”

  “I would be happy to take care of your household chores, since I’m not accustomed to idleness,” she told him. A sudden thought struck her. She looked from Rachel to Caleb. “What about my animals? Who would take care of them?”

  “I can make arrangements to move them here for the time being,” her prospective employer offered.

  Abby gave a helpless shrug. “It seems that between the two of you, you’ve thought of everything.”

  “Not everything, I’m sure,” Rachel said. “The biggest obstacles, perhaps.”

  At long last, Caleb unfolded his arms and extended his hand. “It seems, Mrs. Carter, that we find ourselves in positions of mutual need. I will do my best to be patient with your children if you will take good care of my daughter. Do we have a deal?”