Heartland Courtship (10 page)

“Mama breathed too fast like that when we got word of my father’s death,” Posey said sadly. “I was afraid you’d faint.”

“I never faint.”
I’ve never become attached to a man either.

Finally Rachel persuaded Posey to go home.

Rachel sat outside on a chair in the shade of one of the tall maples on the edge of her clearing, fretting. She forced herself to go on slipping her fine needle in and out of the stiff cloth, trying not to think of Mr. Merriday, yet straining to hear the sound of his voice from behind the cabin. Would he stay now that the boy had come? She tried to control how her heart lifted at this thought.
I must not let myself hope that.

Chapter Six

T
he sun had lowered when she heard Mr. Merriday and the boy join her in the shade. She kept her gaze on her sewing, afraid Brennan might read her feelings for him in her expression. She couldn’t imagine the humiliation of caring for a man uninterested in her. Whatever happened, he must never know.

“Jacque, I should have thy new clothing done soon,” she said mildly, her heart thrumming in her ears. Mr. Merriday’s presence stirred her, waking her somehow. She clung to her self-control.

“Yes, miss,” Jacque said in a tone that showed no interest.

Brennan slid his back down the tree.

Her awareness of him slid higher.

“We dug some of the garden—” Brennan started.

“
I
dug some of the garden,” Jacque interrupted Brennan.

“Don’t correct thy elders,” Rachel said out of habit, a scold she’d used on her younger sisters. Tension crackled between the two males. It added to her own. She changed topics, as keeping words flowing provided her some cover. “I received a letter from home today.”

“Oh,” Brennan said flatly.

His attitude doused her like cold water. She was never one to ignore matters—why should she now? “Jacque,” she said, setting down her sewing, “I am going to give thee a towel and soap. Go to the creek and take a bath.”

“I’d like a swim,” Jacque said, eyeing her.

“The creek is shallow but do thy best.” She went inside and came out with the towel and soap. “Don’t lose the soap in the creek. And don’t forget to wash behind the ears, the back of the neck, and hair.”

“I won’t.” He grabbed the towel and took off running in the direction Brennan had told him.

Brennan had risen when she had. Not meeting his gaze, she returned to her place on her chair and he eased back onto the wild grass and leaned against the tree trunk.

His nearness still affected her, but she bolstered her resolve. “Is Jacque thy son?” she pressed him again, taking up her needle and thread again, voicing the question perhaps uppermost in both their minds.

Brennan stared forward and did not reply with even a change of expression. The lowering sun glinted on the highlights in his hair. He needed a trim and she nearly reached out to lift the hair hanging over his collar.

“What business is it of yours?” he grumbled.

Instead of biting off his head, she bit off a thread. “I am merely concerned.” Not the truth, she admitted to herself. “I am not a gossip.” That much was true.

“He could be my son,” Brennan allowed grudgingly. “The time works out right.”

“I see.” That was all he was going to say? Obviously Brennan Merriday didn’t want to tell her—now. And did she want him to open up to her? Wouldn’t it be better to try to go back to where they had been—if possible?

* * *

She made a cold supper for them. Jacque ate his fill and then fell asleep, his damp head buried on his arms at the table. In the stillness broken by the sound of frogs at the nearby creek, Rachel tried not to stare at Mr. Merriday across the table from her. And failed.

Worry lines bisected his forehead and his shoulders looked tense. Again she resisted the impulse to touch his arm, speak comfort to him. She would have to fight these foolish tendencies or he might leave that much sooner just to get away from her. She endured a sharp twinge around her heart.

“I don’t know what to think,” he said out of the blue.

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “Today was a shock. But remember it was a shock to Jacque, as well.” She frowned deeply, feeling the hard lines in her face. “That man, that Jean Pierre, will reap a bitter harvest from his unkindness. Such public cruelty.”

“He did it to shame me.”

“And without a thought for the child.” The unkindness sliced Rachel to the heart. She knew Brennan would never abandon a child or treat anyone so thoughtlessly. Under his gruff exterior, Brennan had an innate honor. “This boy has lost much and he’s so young.”

“I get your meanin’.” Brennan rose. “I’ll take him to my loft.”

Rachel nearly objected. She had room for the boy, but he wasn’t hers. The chasm between her feelings for this man and what was appropriate in this situation spread further apart. “I’ll loan a pillow and blanket for him.”

“Much obliged.” Brennan shook the boy’s shoulder.

Jacque looked up, blinking.

“Take the pillow from Miss Rachel. We’ll head home now.”

“Don’t you live here?” the boy said, knuckling his eyes.

“No, that wouldn’t be proper. I live above the blacksmith shop,” Brennan said, accepting the light cotton blanket she offered him.

Rachel watched them walk down the track to town till they vanished from her sight. She wished to help but Brennan plainly had told her to keep her nose out of his business. Until he left town, though, he was her business. How did one stop having feelings for a man? He was a totally unsuitable man yet that didn’t make any difference to her heart.

* * *

Brennan’s nerves still stuttered from the scene earlier that day on Main Street. He led this boy he didn’t know, but who might be his only family, through the trees and the deserted town to the silent blacksmith shop. They found Levi sitting on his one chair, looking out over the river.

A refreshing breeze blew over them, dissipating the heat from the forge. But Brennan’s stomach felt loaded with lead. What would come next? And for some reason he couldn’t stop thinking about Miss Rachel.

Levi sat forward. “Well, hello. I’m Levi Comstock.”

Brennan appreciated Levi’s uncomplicated greeting. Both Levi and Miss Rachel could be counted on for kindness. Miss Rachel’s face, surrounded by delicate wisps of her light hair, came to mind, drawing him back. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, hadn’t wanted to take full charge of this child tonight. After fighting in the war and drifting for years, he was completely unprepared to be a father.

Jacque merely nodded to Levi.

“Boy, when a man introduces himself, you say your name and call him sir,” Brennan said sternly.

Jacque threw Brennan a scalding look. “I’m Jacque Charpentier, sir.”

Levi offered his hand and shook the boy’s. “Nice to meet you, Jacque.”

Brennan noted Levi raised a quizzical eyebrow, more than Miss Rachel had done. She’d been mighty cool about everything. That stuck in his craw.

“Jacque, I’ll show you where we bed down.” Brennan walked him inside and waved him up the ladder to the loft. “You’ll see my bedroll up there. There’s a good breeze so you’ll do okay. Be up later.”

Jacque raised a shoulder in reply and with his bedding over his other shoulder climbed the ladder. At that moment, Brennan recalled what Miss Rachel had said.
This boy has lost much and he’s so young.

His conscience clipped him hard. “Jacque,” Brennan said, making his voice kinder, “everything will work out.”

The boy didn’t even pause on his way up the ladder.

Brennan didn’t blame Jacque for doubting him.
What does he know of me but what’s been told him, and none of it good?
Brennan’s stomach burned, as he thought about all the lies this boy had probably heard about the man who might be his father. Or had they told him nothing except that Brennan was a coward? Miss Rachel’s face kept coming to mind. The good woman she was, she’d been concerned for the boy. Her sweet voice played in his mind.

Outside again, Brennan stooped with his back propped against the rough log wall.

“Charpentier?” Levi asked.

“My wife’s maiden name.”

Levi looked at him, expecting more.

Brennan stared at the wide river. He could not speak of this now. Again, he wished he could speak frankly to Miss Rachel. She saw human nature clearly, but Jacque wasn’t her responsibility.

“You see that new gal in town?” Levi asked finally.

Brennan thought for a moment, his mind a jumble. “You mean Posey?”

“Yeah, she’s a pretty little thing.”

Brennan looked sideways at the man, relieved to discuss something else. “You lonely?”

“I have been hoping some young ladies would move here, but so far it’s only been little girls, couples or single men. If I’d stayed in Illinois, I could have found a wife easy.”

Brennan went along, a welcome distraction. “Why didn’t you stay in Illinois then?”

Levi frowned. “I wanted to have my own shop. Too many blacksmiths in Illinois.”

“And a lot of women.” Brennan eased his own mind by teasing the blacksmith.

“But most of them are too hoity-toity to move to the frontier. They want board sidewalks and hat shops.”

This forced a laugh from Brennan, a release of tension.

“It’s not funny. I want a regular cabin and a wife to snuggle up to in the long winter ahead.”

Brennan shrugged. “I wish you luck.”

“You don’t think your Miss Rachel is interested in getting married, do you?”

Brennan snorted in response; unreasonable irritation sparked within. “Told me she’s not getting married,” he said, warning the man away.

“Women say that, but do they mean that? She’s a great cook and as neat as wax. Pretty, too. She just don’t take pains to look it.”

This aggravated Brennan. He had no right but it irked him to have another man notice how quietly pretty she was. “You can try, but I doubt she’ll come around. She...she sounds like some man insulted her by offering marriage...for
his
convenience. Had a passel of kids he needed a ma for.”

“Ah.” The sound conveyed that Levi had no idea what Brennan was talking about and Brennan didn’t feel like telling more. Miss Rachel’s business was hers alone.

“Women don’t like it if you start paying attention to one woman and then switch to another,” Levi commented. “You know what I mean?”

Brennan did, but had bigger problems of his own.

“I think I’ll start trying to get to know Miss Posey Brown. She’s younger and tries to look pretty. That’s a sign she’s not adverse to marriage.” Levi glanced at Brennan. “Wouldn’t you say?”

Brennan let out a long breath. Levi was never this talkative. “What’ve you got to lose?” Brennan asked.

He’d once been so in love and look how it had all turned out. If there hadn’t been slavery, abolition, secession, would he and Lorena have done better? The sad truth was in this fiery world, love lasted as long as tissue paper. So letting himself begin to care at all for the Quakeress was more than foolish.

* * *

When Brennan woke the next morning, he found a thin small body pressed against his right side. He jerked more wide awake, hurt his sprained wrist and cursed under his breath.

Jacque rolled away from him with a stifled yelp of surprise. For a moment the boy looked as if he didn’t know where he was.

The panic in his eyes stabbed Brennan; he regretted disturbing the child. “You’re in Wisconsin with me, Jacque,” he said in a voice he wished sounded more comforting.

The boy lost the panicked look but did not appear very reassured.

“Now, we get up and wash in the river and then go to Miss Rachel’s for breakfast.”

Jacque nodded. “She cooks good.”

“You don’t know the half of it yet,” he said with deep sincerity. He cradled his aching wrist to himself. After a sleepless night, he felt like a limp piece of rag, and what unexpected unpleasantness might come today?

Soon, the two of them walked through town. Brennan tried not to notice how people, sweeping the steps of their cabins, stopped to gawk. What did he care? What were they to him? He’d be gone before long.

Brennan stumbled on a rock that had rolled onto the path. The false step jiggled his sore wrist. He gritted his teeth. His wrist would heal in its own good time and this matter with the child would have to work its own way out. But how?

* * *

After eating a breakfast of scrambled eggs with fried salt pork and buttered toast, Brennan rose to thank Miss Rachel for another good meal.

“How is the wrist?” she replied, already turning to her stove.

He glanced down at his hand. “Still stiff.”

She came to him and slid his arm from the sling. Her touch was gentle, nonetheless it rocked him to his core.

“It’s mending,” he muttered, withdrawing abruptly from her touch. A moment of strained silence passed.

She looked to Jacque. “I’ll do the milking again, but I could use this young man to collect the eggs this morning and then scatter chicken feed. Why doesn’t thee go rest in the shade, Mr. Merriday? Rest will make the wrist heal quicker.”

And then what?
he asked silently. This is what happened when a man stayed in one place too long and got comfortable. He pulled back mentally from this cozy woman.

Jacque accepted the basket she handed him and headed out for the chicken coop and yard to look for eggs. Hens could be foolish and lay eggs outside, too.

Brennan put on his hat and followed the boy into the summer day. He sat on the grass under a shade tree, watching the boy gather eggs. The sun was rising and the heat was, too. His eyelids felt heavy and sleep would keep him from thinking thoughts of Miss Rachel he had no right to think.

* * *

“Mr. Merriday!” Miss Rachel’s voice cut through Brennan’s morning nap.

He jolted awake and bumped the back of his head against the rough tree trunk and rubbed it. “Miss?”

“Where is Jacque?”

Blinking at the bright sun beyond the shade, Brennan scanned the clearing. “I musta fell asleep.”

“Thee looked exhausted at breakfast. Healing takes energy, too.”

And last night I didn’t sleep worth a Confederate dollar.
He got up quicker than he should have and jiggled his wrist again. He clamped his lips together to keep in an exclamation of pain and refused to look at her. “When did you see him last?”

“He brought in the egg basket full. Then I gave him the feed to scatter for the chickens. I’m about to make lunch so I came out and I’ve looked all over the clearing and haven’t been able to find him.”

Brennan stared at her. Was this just kid folly or had the boy run off? In either case, he couldn’t think what to do.

Miss Rachel looked skyward. “He might have gone looking for someone to play with.”