On Her Way Home (16 page)

Jo was still mulling over her options and what course she was going to take regarding Mac, when she heard the truck pull up outside and park. Minutes later, Sam came galloping into the barn, a lollipop stick dangling out of his mouth. Rushing up to Jo, he dug his sticky hand into his pocket and pulled out a red lollipop, holding it up to her, his brown eyes twinkling.

Jo stabbed her pitchfork upright into a pile of hay, peeled off her gloves, and shoved them in her pockets. “Is this for me?” she said keenly.

Sam nodded his head up and down. “Mine is raspthberry and yours is strawthberry.”

Making her eyes go round, she exclaimed, “Strawberry! That’s my favorite. How did you know?” Sam handed her the sweet and she quickly unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth.

Sam shrugged his shoulders adorably while boasting, “I just did.”

Jo loved Sam’s mannerisms. When he spoke, he had an abundance of expression in his face that endeared him to her. “Thank you!” Jo said, bending down to Sam. Glancing over his head, lamentably, she saw Mac wander into the barn.

“I see Leif’s done his job of keeping you out of the field,” he commented, sweeping the barn with eyes.

Having yet to decide her course of action regarding Mac, she chose the easiest option for her, which was to pretend nothing had bothered her earlier and to just be friendly. “Actually, you did me a favor,” Jo replied good-naturedly. “It’s nice and cool in here. Leif and Charlie are outside melting away in the sun.”

Grabbing her pitchfork, she resumed her work cleaning the stalls, the lollipop balled up in her cheek. Sam climbed up on Captain’s stall gate and began petting his neck. Captain swung his neck around sniffing out the sweet stickiness on Sam’s hands, his nudging and licking causing peels of giggling from Sam.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?” Jo asked Mac, eyeing him uneasily as he came to the stall she was cleaning, with a second pitchfork in his hand.

“Well,” he drawled, “I think I’ll steal a bit of this barn shade as well and help you muck out the rest of the stalls.”

It surprised Jo that he planned on working with her. Generally, Mac was busy with more important tasks. He was the first person to ride out in the morning and the last person to come in at the end of the day. She knew he probably had more pressing matters to attend to, but for some inane reason he seemed content to stay in the barn and unnerve her.

They spent the following hours mucking the barn together and organizing the tools and equipment. Mac asked a lot of questions about Jo’s past, and about her home and family. Some questions she answered, and some she deflected, mainly those pertaining to why she’d traveled west. She described their farm to him and shared stories from her two years as a school teacher with him. Not wanting to talk excessively about herself, she tried to ask him questions about his own life, but he was a master at changing the topic or shifting the conversation back around to Jo.

After he’d finessed the topic back to why she’d traveled west again, she became suspicious. Looking at him cautiously, Jo answered him with a half-truth, “I needed a different life.”

Mac noticed her choice of words “needed” as opposed to “wanted.” She’d run from something, but he didn’t know what…yet. Sensing that she was closing up and growing guarded, he changed the subject. He would be patient, figuring he could find time later to siphon information; that was another trick he’d learned in the army. It’s best to ambush in the dark. Watching Jo play with Sam the other day, he’d had this crazy thought that Jo’s arrival here wasn’t merely coincidence but providence. Desperate to refute the idea, he needed another answer. He wanted a logical explanation for why she was at his ranch.

Feeling that Mac must be bored of listening to her, Jo kept taking peeks at him, checking for signs of annoyance, but he seemed interested and attentive. Mac picked up a bale of hay and carried it easily into a stall. Jo gaped at the ease with which he’d hefted it, remembering the inordinate amount of effort she had to put into moving a single bale. Clipping the twine, Mac began loosening it and spreading it around the stall, forming a soft bed.

“How about this, Sam?” he said, patting the soft hay. “Do you think General will like his bed?” Sam lay down on his back in the hay, clasping his hands over his head and resting back on them.

Mac grinned at him. “You look pretty cozy there, nipper.” Mac and Jo plopped down in the hay with him, Jo leaning her back up against the stall boards.

“When I was a girl, my sister Krissy and I begged our Pa to let us sleep out in the barn one night.” Sam was listening intently. “We got our quilts and pillows and laid them out up in the haymow, near the end of the barn, so we could look out at the stars. It was a really clear night, and the moon was full and round. I remember we saw two shooting stars that night.” Looking at Sam, Jo asked, “Do you know what a shooting star is?”

Sam shook his head.

“A shooting star is a star that falls from the sky; it’s a streak of light that goes really fast, and then it’s gone. When you see one, you’re supposed to make a wish.”

“What did you wish for?” Sam asked.

“Well, you’re not supposed to tell anyone because if you do, it won’t come true.”

Sam sat up. “Can I sleep out here tonight?”

Mac chuckled, rolling his eyes at Jo over Sam’s head and mouthing the words, “Thanks.” Jo hid a smile behind her hand, shrugging her shoulders apologetically.

“Can I please, Pa?” Sam pleaded.

Ruffling his hair, Mac answered, “Not tonight, Sam.”

“Why not?” inquired Sam.

“Well, for one, you’re too young to sleep out here alone…”

Bounding up on his knees, Sam interrupted Mac, “You and Jo can sleep here too!”

Mac chewed on the inside of his check while stealing a peek at Jo. She blushed faster than any woman he’d ever met. If her pink cheeks and righteous indignation over his supposed “illegitimate” son were any indication, he figured she was pretty naïve when it came to men. Pink flooded up her neck and over her cheeks, as she looked anywhere in the barn, but at him.

Deciding he’d teased her enough today, Mac swallowed the suggestive comment on the tip of his tongue, choosing to say instead, “Nah… You and I don’t want to do that, son.” Leaning in close to Sam, he crooked his hand to the side of his mouth, like he was sharing a secret with Sam, and stated loud enough for Jo to hear, “Jo snores.”

His accusation caught her off guard and not being able to help herself, she burst out laughing, swatting him soundly on the arm at the same time. Mac slid out of the way of her attack and doubled up, the rich deep timbre of his laughter echoing off the barn walls.

“I do
not
snore!” Jo defended herself, wiping tears from her eyes.

Mac tried to recover from his bout of laughter, his face a deep red with the effort and his blue eyes watering. Wiggling Sam’s ears, he teased, “You do too! I heard it with my own ears. That day after pulling the cornstalks. When I came upstairs, you were sprawled out over your bed with your boots still on, snoring so loud it shook the walls.” Mac gleamed wickedly at Jo. “I thought there was a bear in the house.”

Swiftly, Mac swung up out the hay, deftly dodging Jo’s second, and more ferocious, assault. He scooped up Sam, who was enjoying the banter between them. “Let’s go see what Leif and Charlie are up to out in the field.” Swinging Sam to his back, they turned to leave the barn.

“Coward!” Jo accused lightheartedly, pointing her finger at Mac with sparkling eyes.

Glancing over his shoulder, Mac shot her another lopsided grin and hustled out of the barn, with giggling Sam, bobbing along on his back. On his way to the field, he tried to think of the last time he’d laughed like that. It had been so long ago he couldn’t remember.

***

Jo spent the rest of the afternoon gardening and preparing supper with Mattie. Sitting at the counter peeling potatoes for their creamed peas, she worked up the courage to ask a question she’d been wondering about for weeks. “Mattie, what happened to Sam’s mother?”

Glancing up from the bowl of peas she was shelling, her eyes filling with tenderness, Mattie answered, “Sam’s mother died a year and a half ago. Wait. No, that’s right. It was the same spring Kirby and I sold our ranch.”

“Did you know her then?” Jo asked.

“Actually, no. I never had the chance to meet her. It was after she died that Mac brought Sam home and invited Kirby and I to move to Montana to ranch with him and Leif.” Jo continued peeling the potatoes, wanting to inquire more but worried she shouldn’t.

“Mac said she was an angel though, and that’s where Sam inherited his thoughtful nature,” Mattie added. Jo’s stomach twisted, hearing Mattie speak of Mac’s praise for Sam’s mother.
He must have loved her
.
It’s strange they didn’t marry after having a child together.

“Does Sam remember his mother? Or ever speak about her?” Jo’s heart broke for the little boy and the mother that would never see him grow.

Mattie raised her head as if she were pondering. “I don’t recall Sam ever mentioning her, though I do remember, when the adoption was finally settled and Mac brought him home, Sam was clingy and cried every time Mac was out of sight. I always thought that maybe it was because he remembered his mother passing away and was afraid Mac wouldn’t come back.” Jo puzzled over Mattie’s words, wondering why he would have to adopt his own son. Thinking that it might have something to do with the fact that they weren’t legally married, Jo held her tongue and avoided asking about it.

“After months of being toted around everywhere by Mac, even in the fields and out on the horses, Sam finally opened up. Well, you’ve seen how friendly he is now. He still clings to Mac in ways, but I think he’s recovered from his loss, as well as a child can recover from losing the center of his world.” Mattie went back to shelling peas, her nimble fingers peeling the stem down the center and rolling the green peas out of the pod.

In the silent kitchen, Jo thought about Sam and how lively and bright he was. She had a difficult time picturing him shy and clingy, or even crying as Mattie said he was prone to do. Reading between the lines of Mattie’s story, it appeared that Mac was an even better father than Jo had given him credit for.

Mattie finished the peas and went to the sink to rinse and drain them before dumping them in the pan with the cream. Speaking over her shoulder to Jo, she said, “Not having known Sam’s mother, it’s easier for me to see Tom’s likeness in him.” Mattie dumped the peas into the pan and then returned to her seat next to Jo to slice the peeled potatoes.

“Tom?” Jo questioned.

Nodding her head as if she were jogging Jo’s memory, Mattie said, “Tom. Sam’s father.”

Flabbergasted, Jo stopped the peeler and gawked at Mattie.

Noticing her confusion, Mattie clarified, “Tom Archer, Sam’s real father, you know.” Jo tried to recall the name, but couldn’t remember ever hearing it.

Jo shook her head side to side, stating emphatically, “No. I didn’t know. I thought Mac was Sam’s real father.”

“Well, it makes no difference now, anyway. Mac’s the only father Sam has ever known,” Mattie stated. “Tom and Mac were
the best of friends. Tom grew up just down the road from Mac. They were closer than brothers from the time they were little, always getting into one scrape after another and tormenting little Leif. Tom never made it home from the war.”

Mention of the war jogged Jo’s memory, and she recalled Leif mentioning a Tom Archer when he’d told her about Mac preventing him from joining the army.

Mattie went on quietly, “Mac and Tom served in the same unit together, but Mac never speaks of it. After the war, Mac sold the copper mine they had started together, so Tom’s widow and Sam could have their share. He doesn’t say much about it, but from what I gather, he did his best to stay in contact with her. A few years later, she took ill and sent for Mac. That spring she died of tuberculosis and granted guardianship of Sam to Mac in her will. He didn’t come by fatherhood in the traditional way, but it sure suits him.”

Jo nodded her head mutely, still completely stunned and trying to fit the pieces together.

“I think,” Mattie pondered thoughtfully, “Mac needed Sam as much as it was the other way around.” Smiling kindly at Jo, she explained, “You’ve seen Mac cold and hard, but he was even worse before Sam came to the ranch.” Mattie stood from the chair and went to the stove to stir the creamy peas. Slowly swirling the wooden spoon through the saucepan, she went on, “When Kirby and I first saw Mac after he’d come home from the war, it was like looking at a ghost. He had this haunted, hunted look about him and dark shadows in his eyes. It wasn’t just his appearance that had changed either. It was like his whole personality had been stolen away. The only way I can describe him, and bless me I don’t like to say it, but he was hate-filled from the bottom of his toes to the tip of his head. Over the last three years, and especially the last year and a half that Sam has been in his life, I’m finally starting to see glimpses of the old Mac.” Mattie stopped her stirring and came to stand next to Jo. Placing her hand lovingly on Jo’s, she said softly, “I’ve noticed a change in Mac since you’ve come to the ranch too. You’re a blessing here.”

Jo’s heart warmed, trusting the sincerity she saw springing out from Mattie’s eyes. Standing up, she wrapped her arms around the silver-haired woman, who was becoming so dear to her heart. Mac and Leif were like Mattie’s own children. It must have been incredibly painful to have a son return from the war and not even recognize him. Jo thought back to the months following her brother Johnny’s return from the war. At first, he was reserved and quieter than usual, but only a few months later, he was his amicable self. Mac’s experiences in the service must have been vastly different from Johnny’s; surely losing his closest friend had been painful.