A Bride at Last (7 page)

“Boy, you don’t admit that a girl can outrun you. If you can’t outrun her, you practice until you can.” Richard snapped his fingers at Myrtle and pointed at his coffee.

If only Myrtle could slip some of that soft soap Kate smelled like into his cup. Of course washing out his mouth wouldn’t clean his heart.

“Well, I’m thinking of taking a walk this afternoon. Where would you suggest I go?” He tensed, waiting for Richard to spout off a recommendation for him to go home.

“You can find snakes at the river sometimes.”

“Snakes?” He couldn’t stand the creatures anymore, not after waking to one falling from his ceiling smack onto his chest, then wriggling into his nightshirt.

If he wasn’t mistaken, that was just a few days before Lucy left him. He’d not been particularly fond of remaining in his soddy after that incident either.

Silas stuck his spoon into the bland mush that remained in his bowl and left it there. Hunger pains weren’t the worst thing a man could face. “Do you look for anything else at the river?”

“Frogs and crawfish, but since it’s getting cold, you can’t find much.”

Creepy crawlies had yet to terrorize him. “What about bugs?
They’re great for science lessons, I’d bet. Maybe Miss Dawson wouldn’t mind you collecting some for school.”

Kate hummed negatively. “We don’t need more pests in my room. We’ve got plenty of mice.” She went back to stirring her mush. Had she taken a bite? Not that he’d blame her if she passed on the morning’s vittles.

“Snakes eat mice. Maybe she’d appreciate you bringing in one of those.” Silas winked at Anthony, who actually let a grin slip onto his determinedly blank face.

“I’m afraid the boys would find a snake too useful for scaring the girls.” Miss Dawson’s greenish eyes brightened and she turned to Anthony. “Though, if you found a small snake, we could keep him upstairs for a while.”

Anthony’s face lit. “Really? Mother never let me keep anything I caught.”

Silas frowned. Was there really a woman who wasn’t against living with a snake in her room?

Tenacious, spirited, hardworking. Kate was the kind of woman who’d make it on the Kansas prairie, one who wouldn’t run away . . .

Silas blinked. Where had his thoughts gone off to again? He grabbed his coffee.

“Don’t get your hopes up, boy.” Richard set down his empty cup. “Did you see Mr. Jonesey shiver when you mentioned snakes? He’s not about to let you keep one. And Miss Dawson here ain’t going to get the boardinghouse woman to agree to let you keep varmints in her place either.”

“Now, hold on—”

“Kid, they’re just buttering you up, making you think they’re going to take time out for you, but they won’t. Since you left, did your mother and Miss Dawson have time for anything like that?”

Kate drew up. “Lucinda was sick!”

“Let’s all stop lying.” Richard stood. “The boy’ll be coming home with me on Monday after you all have your fun getting him to dream big. Boy, they’re not doing you any favors. You’ll be faced with reality next week.”

Richard stomped off, and Anthony stared at his plate.

“Don’t listen to him.” Kate put her hand on his shoulder. “We—”

“Can you promise the judge won’t make me go with him?” Anthony looked at Kate with sad eyes.

Kate took back her hand and swallowed. “Well, no.”

Anthony wadded his napkin and stood. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

Kate winced, then looked to Silas. “We better head to school anyway.” She stood and went after Anthony.

Frowning at the dirty dishes left around him, Silas sighed. His stomach churned. He wouldn’t have to deal with Richard much longer, but Anthony possibly would—without Silas or Kate nearby.

“Are you all right?” Myrtle gathered silverware and piled them on a plate.

He pressed his eyes closed for a second, wishing he could answer affirmatively. “Unfortunately, no.”

A man called to Myrtle from across the dining area.

Silas cleared his throat. “You’ve got people to attend. I can see to our dirty dishes.”

She left to go serve more tasteless corn mush.

Besides, I’ve got more journals to read
, he thought. Though considering he’d gone through seven with nothing pointing to him as the father, Richard was likely right. Maybe they were dreaming to believe the world held anything better for the boy than it had for him.

Was there anything he could do if the journals came up empty?

Walking out of the schoolhouse behind Anthony on Friday, Kate spied Silas on the street, pacing in front of a wagon.

Had he finished reading all of Lucy’s journals? Did he have good news or bad?

“I smell fried chicken.” Anthony tipped his nose into the air and sniffed.

Catching sight of them, Silas smiled as they approached.

“Did you find out something?” Would he tell her now, in front of Anthony?

He shook his head. “I only have one journal left, but I’m not holding out much hope. But as I said yesterday morning, I need to get outside. So, I’m taking you both to Dry Creek.”

“Dry Creek?” Anthony’s eyes lit.

“Yes, see here?” He leaned over what must have been a rented wagon and hauled up a crate. “If you find a snake, we have something to put him in.”

She glanced at the box, thankful he’d chosen something with tight slats. “Is the chicken to lure the snake?”

“No, it’s our dinner.” Silas held out his arms for her books.

How long would they be gone? “Shouldn’t you be reading?”

“I can finish tomorrow. I wanted to make sure we spend time with Anthony. Richard made me realize our pursuits shouldn’t keep Anthony from enjoying the bit of growing up he’s got left to do. I rarely had time for fun at his age, not sure I have enough of it now.”

Relaxing was necessary once in a while, but right now? “What if you find nothing in that last journal?” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “What if you can’t keep him?”

“Then he’ll have a great memory.” His face was solemn.

“Is that all you’re going to do for him—give him a memory?”

Silas glanced over his shoulder to where Anthony had climbed
onto the bench seat before leaning closer to her, lowering his voice. “Almost every diary refers to Richard as Anthony’s pa. That’s a lot of evidence against the one sentence that says, ‘Silas doesn’t deserve to know.’ I don’t think that’s going to get us anywhere.”

“But I know Richard isn’t his father. She told me.”

“Did she tell you I’m his father?”

“No, but surely if the judge knew Anthony would rather be with you—”

“Does he?”

She bit her lip and took in Anthony’s serene face. “I think your afternoon plans might move things in your favor.”

“And what about you?” He held out his hand.

She blinked at his open hand. He was only offering to help her into the wagon, of course, so why had her brain jumped to make that question mean something more?

“What do you mean?” She swallowed and let him guide her up into the wagon, the touch of his hand on her elbow strangely intensified. “Why do you care what I think?”

“When I first arrived, you lumped me into the same category as Richard. I’m hoping you’ll see I’m not like him.”

“Then no. If that’s what this afternoon is about, it won’t make me change my mind about you.”

He stopped and frowned up at her.

She shrugged. “I’ve already realized you’re not how Lucinda painted you. At least not anymore.”

He let out a steady exhale. “Thank you.” He went around the other side of the wagon and climbed up. Calling to the team of bay horses, he drove them out of town.

She stared at her hands in her lap. Should she even go with Anthony and Silas this afternoon? She needed to plan for possible bad news at the hearing, not stroll along the creek and . . . and daydream about the judge deciding to give her Anthony.

Having him with her at school all week had made the upcoming court case feel so far away, but now that the weekend had come, dread swelled her throat.

Despite what Richard thought, she’d run with Anthony if the judge decided in Richard’s favor . . . she’d only promised not to do so before the court date.

Anthony needed to be safe more than he needed to be with a blood relative.

But without this teaching job or anything more to sell . . . If it was just the two of them, they’d likely turn into beggars and need Anthony’s pickpocketing skills to stay alive.

No, she had to trust God would take care of them. But then, He’d not kept either of them out of hard situations before. . . .

Maybe the best she could hope for was that Silas was the nice man he seemed to be and the judge decided on him.

She swiped at her eyes, determined not to lose a single tear. She’d not ruin this happy memory Silas was creating.

The wind tugged at her bun, so she pulled it free and made a looser one at the nape of her neck while Anthony bounced on the well-sprung seat.

At the creek, as Silas helped her from the wagon, Anthony tore off, calling for her to run after him. She looked in the back of the wagon for something to carry.

Silas lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not going to chase him?”

“I’m not sure leaving you in the dust is a ladylike thing to do.”

“Oh, I thought you weren’t giving chase because you can’t actually beat him.”

Well, she’d show him. After one quick glance back to let him know she’d taken the dare, she picked up her skirts and took off.

Anthony had skidded to a stop on the rocky bank before she caught up, but she’d gotten close. She ruffled his hair and looked over her shoulder expecting Silas to be making his way
toward the water, but he was still at the wagon, lifting out what must have been their supper in a basket.

“Do we have to eat now or can I start looking for snakes?” Anthony danced around as if he couldn’t possibly sit.

“I’m not sure what Mr. Jonesey wants to do, but I’m sure you can stop playing the moment we tell you to, right?” She gave him her teacher glare, the one that said she expected immediate obedience.

“Sure.” He dropped onto the rocks and reached for his laces.

She frowned at the state of his shoes. The leather and sole at his right heel had separated, and both toes were so scuffed that a hole would appear any day.

“What do you think about setting up here?” Silas stood under a tree just starting to turn light yellow, the basket in one hand and a blanket draped over his arm. The sun filtering through the leaves played across his face. Scruff along his jaw had turned from a thick shadow into a full beard this past week.

Though he’d asked her a question, his eyes were fastened behind her on Anthony, who was hooting after plunging his bare feet into the cold water.

The half smile on Silas’s face made her heart trip. He might not have known the boy long enough to truly love him, but that expression was miles closer to love than the way Richard looked at him.

Or even how Lucinda had looked at him.

How would it feel if Silas looked at her like that?

No, a man as handsome as Silas wouldn’t waste his time on her. Though quite a few years older than her, with a face like his, he could scoop up any young woman he desired. Certainly a woman with a fresher face and a more compliant disposition would snag his attention. He needn’t turn such a gaze onto a twenty-five-year-old spinster.

Why did she care anyway? He’d not be around much longer to look at her in any manner.

“I think that’s fine.” She picked her way over to the spot he’d chosen. “Do you want to eat now? I thought we could let Anthony play awhile.”

“Aren’t you going to get in with him?”

“Me?” She frowned. “It’s not exactly appropriate for me to wade.”

“Didn’t stop you from running just now . . . and losing.”

She scrunched up her face. If she’d known him better, she’d probably have picked up something soft to throw at him. “He had a huge lead.”

“It put a flush in your cheeks.”

She brushed away the hair that had fallen from her sloppy bun. “Red faced and sweaty. My sister always did tell me running made me look terrible.”

Silas’s mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t say that.”

What would you say?
She pressed her lips together to keep from asking, and he turned to flick out the blanket.

“He’s not going to be around much longer. He won’t remember you took your stockings off, but he will remember you played with him in the water.” Silas set the basket of food on top of the smoothed-down blanket.

She hadn’t so much been put off by the idea of being stocking-less, but more so by the hooting Anthony was doing because of the cold water. Of course, that didn’t sound like a good excuse now.

And where did all this child-rearing wisdom come from? “I suppose you had good memories like this from your childhood?”

“No.”

His dejected tone made her look back at him. Once again, he wasn’t looking at her but rather at something distant.

“No good memories at all?”

“I’m an orphan.”

“Well, so am I.” And she certainly had her share of bad memories because of it. “But I still remember a few things about my parents. Father letting me play with his hunting dog’s pups. Mother singing with me while I attempted to help her wash dishes.”