June (16 page)

He rubbed the back of his neck. Why would he care what June Kallahan or anybody else thought of him?

He glanced out the window again. Why was he so restless today? His eyes focused on the gentle sway of June's skirt as she climbed into the wagon, chatting with Simon and Sam. Deep down he knew why. He wasn't able to get those orphans out of his mind.

The community did little anymore to help their plight; and for the past year, he and his men hadn't been able to keep up with the necessities. A few baskets of groceries here and there, a few monetary donations. It wasn't enough. The children's needs were not even close to being met.

"Mr. Sentell."

Parker looked up to see one of his men standing in the doorway. "Hello, Chester. What can I do for you?"

Chester King was a tall, lanky man. He was one of Parker's oldest employees, as well as one of his most trusted.

Chester paused in the doorway, red faced. "I hate to ask, Mr. Sentell. But I was wonderin' if I might be able to get a draw on my pay. Just a small one. I wouldn't ask, but the wife's mother came down sick, and my Betta needs to go to Portland to look after her. I know payday's still a ways away

Parker opened the desk drawer and took out the cash box. "How much do you need, Chester?"

"Just enough for a stage ticket. I figure payday will roll around before Betta's ma gets better. I can send her money for the stage back."

"That won't be necessary." Parker counted a generous stack of bills onto the table. "Your wife will be needing a round-trip ticket and money for expenses while she's gone?"

"Yes, sir.... Mr. Sentell, I-"

Parker handed him the money. "Don't argue with the boss. You're one of my best workers, and if you have a need, I want to know about it."

Chester accepted the money with a humble, "Thank you, sir. You be sure and hold it out of my next pay."

Parker closed the desk drawer. "That's not necessary. We'll settle up when things are back to normal for you.,,

"I really appreciate it, Mr. Sentell." Chester reached to shake his hand. "Can I put my X on a paper for you?"

"No, you take care of your family's needs."

"Much obliged." Chester put his frayed hat back on and turned to leave.

"Chester." Parker stopped him. "There is one thing you can do for me."

"Yes, sir?"

"See if you can find Simon. Tell him I need to speak to him."

"I shore will, Mr. Sentell." Chester left, closing the door behind him.

Parker turned back to the window. He wished mere money could ease the orphans' problems as easily as it had Chester's.

Six weeks. June had been in Seattle six weeks, and Sunday camp services were growing. She felt a tingle of anticipation as she unloaded the picnic hamper and located a nice big tree near the riverbank. Twenty had attended the service this morning, and next week there promised to be even more.

Bright sunshine streamed through bare branches of the old oak. Overhead a red-tailed hawk soared to catch the light breeze.

June unpacked the wicker picnic hamper, keeping an eye on Simon and Sam. The besotted couple strolled the banks of the running stream, hand in hand.

Setting a loaf of bread on the blanket, June wondered how love happened so quickly. Sam had known Simon such a short time, but already the two were inseparable.

According to Sam, Simon could quite probably be the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, although June didn't see how anyone could arrive at such a significant decision in so brief a time. She smiled, remembering Eli. Of course, she had come hundreds of miles to marry a man she'd never met.

Unscrewing the lid from a jar from Ettie's pantry, she extracted a pickle, then leaned back, biting into its sweetness. Juice squirted and ran down her chin. She lapped it off with her tongue, wondering if she'd ever find love as easily as Sam had.

Simon's eyes had lit up like Christmas candles when Sam invited him to share their lunch after today's services. He readily agreed, and from that moment on, June ceased to exist in the couple's eyes. She was now reduced to watching the picnic basket.

She took another bite of her pickle, sitting up straighter when she saw Parker covering the distance on horseback.

Now there was a man not easily swayed by love. She blushed when she recalled how effortlessly he'd refused Sam's invitation to join them today. Apparently business held a higher priority than his stomach.

Swinging off the stallion, he nodded toward her.

Hoisting the glass pint jar, she smiled. "Pickle?"

To her surprise, he took one and bit it in two. "Good. You make them?"

"No, Ettie did." She was tempted to add that hers were just as good, but she didn't. That would be bragging.

Parker finished the pickle, his eyes focused on Simon, who was skipping stones across the water. "Do those two know it's lunchtime?"

June laughed. "Food is the last thing on their mind."

"Simon not thinking about his next meal? It must be love."

Fishing in the basket, June took out a plate of thickly sliced ham. She set out potato salad, pickled beets, deviled eggs, and a bowl of beans and bacon swimming in blackstrap molasses.

"Change your mind about joining us?" June asked lightly. She didn't want to make much over the fact he'd decided to come, for somewhere deep within her, she relished the unexpected treat. When Parker tried, which admittedly wasn't that often, he could be quite pleasant.

"Not exactly. Business brings me out this way, but there's no reason I can't stay and eat."

June handed him a filled plate. He studied the mound of ham and potato salad, frowning. "You could spoil a man, Miss Kallahan."

She smiled, thinking if that's all it took, he would be an easy man to spoil. She filled a plate for herself as Parker sat down. They bowed their heads, and he said grace.

Unfolding his napkin, Parker said, "Shouldn't the lovebirds be warned we're starting without them?"

June took a bite of ham, chewing thoughtfully. "Do you think they care?"

He chuckled. "Not really."

They managed to carry on a pleasant conversation about the weather and topics that required little thought for the remainder of the meal. Polishing off the last of his potato salad, Parker lifted the lid on the wicker basket and looked inside. "You don't happen to have a chocolate cake in here, do you?"

"No, apple pie." Though Sam had wanted to fix lunch, the orphanage couldn't spare the food. So Ettie had allowed June to commandeer the kitchen this morning. The pie was baked and cooling by the time the sun came up.

Two sizable slices later, Parker lay back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. June was happy to see he'd loosened his belt a couple of notches. "That, Miss Kallahan, was one fine meal."

"Thank you, Mr. Sentell, but I happen to know Mary is an excellent cook. I ate one of her cinnamon rolls before services this morning, and I've tasted none better."

"Yes," he murmured drowsily. "Mary's a good cook, but I can't remember when I've eaten a better apple pie. Reminds me of my mother's cooking."

She couldn't think of any higher praise. "Cinnamon."

He cracked one eye open to look at her.

"I use extra cinnamon-and chunks of fresh-churned butter."

"Well, keep it up." His eyes drifted closed again.

"Does your mother live around here?"

"No. She's been dead for many years."

June settled back, listening to the birds chirping overhead. "This is my favorite time of year. What about you?"

"It's all right." He appeared to doze, but she knew he wasn't sleeping. She studied the large hands folded contentedly over his broad chest. He always looked clean and freshly shaven. She wondered how he did that. Did someone do his laundry for him? If so, who?

"Mary," he said.

"Huh? ... What did you say?"

"Mary does my shirts. I pay her to clean once a month and do my laundry."

She blushed. Now how did he know what she was thinking?

"You have an expressive face," he answered, tiny lines appearing at his eyes. If she didn't know better, she'd swear he was about to laugh.

Straightening, she covered the bowl of potato salad. In the future she would have to guard her thoughts more carefully.

Silence closed around them. Birds fluttered in and out of tree branches. Sam and Simon had wandered farther down the creek, but they were still in sight.

Shaping her hands into a pillow, June rested her head on the blanket. Here she was, in the company of a very handsome man, and she had put him to sleep.

Full of potato salad, she, too, started to succumb to drowsiness.

"You're doing a good job."

Starting, she lifted her head. Bright sunshine blinded her. "Did you say something?"

"I said, you're doing a good job. The women-and men, too-appreciate Sunday services. I was wrong."

She sat up, basking in his compliment. "Well, thank you. I enjoy leading the services. I haven't started services in other camps yet-but I will." She glanced over and saw his eyes were still closed. "I'm sorry we disagreed about it."

"Don't be sorry. I like a woman who knows her mind and isn't afraid to speak it."

It was just too much. Both compliments and praise from Parker Sentell?

"Is that ham I smell?"

June looked up to see Simon and Sam approaching, contented smiles on their faces.

"Parker?" Simon grinned. "Thought you were working."

Without opening his eyes, Parker grunted. "All work and no play makes a man-"

"Dull," Sam finished. She winked at June. "Ain't that right, lovey?"

"You don't have to see me home."

Simon ignored Sam's protests as he hitched the buggy. "It'll be raining soon. I'll see that Sissy is brought back to the orphanage." He winked at Parker. "Parker and I have nothing better to do than see you ladies home."

June glanced at Parker, who was tying the mares to the back of the wagon. "Are you sure?" What about that business he'd mentioned?

Straightening, Parker came around the buggy. "Rain's coming up. Don't want you to get wet." He helped her aboard, then took the seat beside her. She felt very small and very important sitting beside him-almost as if they were courting. The thought made her laugh out loud.

Parker turned to look at her. "Care to share what's funny?"

She shook her head. No, she did not care to share that. Not with him.

The orphanage came into view half an hour later.

"Oh, Sam!" June exclaimed. "I'll finally get to meet your aunt."

When the buggy rolled to a stop in front of the towering old house, children poured out the door. June caught herself before she jumped to the ground to run to them. The children ranged from early teens to a blond-haired, blueeyed toddler.

A frail woman with a mass of snow white hair appeared in the doorway, holding on to the doorframe. She squinted. "Is that you, Sam?"

"'Tis me, Auntie." Sam waited until Simon lifted her down. "Come meet me dear of auntie and the children." She extended a hand to June.

An elderly man carrying an ax came around the corner.

"Hi, Joe just me, and me friends. Come meet them!"

The old man approached, his faded eyes taking in the newcomers.

"Chopping wood again?" Sam asked.

Joe nodded. "Running low."

June took in the squalor, appalled. The roof was patched in so many places it looked warped. Random placement of large sheets of tin were held down by rocks, adding to the dilapidated appearance.

A young boy edged out to meet them. His solemn brown eyes stared up at June. He was painfully thin, and barefoot.

"Hello." She smiled. "What's your name?"

"Peter."

"Peter. That's a wonderful name."

"It's from the Bible."

June nodded. "I recognized that. Peter, one of Jesus' disciples."

Some of the smaller children held back. They cowered behind Angeline, peeking around her skirt.

Sam urged her friends closer to the house. "Aunt Angeline, I want you to meet June, my friend, and Simon,"-Sam's face flamed-"the man I've been telling you about." She blushed, her freckles standing out like measles.

Simon shook hands with Angeline. "Good to see you again, Angeline."