Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (13 page)

"I see. Well, carry on, then. I'll be in the barn." He pushed
himself away from the sink. "I'll be back at noon. This afternoon
I'll be heading out to the north field to repair a fence line."

Suddenly, Sarah brightened. "Perhaps you would enjoy
taking Seth with you. I'm sure he could be of help, and it would
do both of you good to spend some time together."

A mysterious expression swept across his face. "I think not.
Farming is man's work."

"But how else will he learn if you don't teach him? One
day he'll be a man himself and-"

"Sarah, I'll thank you not to intrude."

His harshness set her back-but not for long. "Intrude?
That was not my intention." She jumped to her feet, knowing
she looked a sight but caring little. "I was merely suggesting it
might be good to begin teaching the boy small tasks. He's not
too young, in my opinion."

"In your opinion?" Rocky slipped an eyebrow up, whether
in amusement or disapproval she couldn't say. "Already you're
an authority on child rearing?"

"Of course not," she shot back, angry at his refusal to take
her seriously. "It's just that I'm sure Seth would rather spend
time with you than with Rachel and me. We will be working in
the house most of the day."

"Taking the boy along would only slow my progress," he
alleged. At this, his gaze trailed to Seth, whose saddened eyes
seemed not to affect Rocky in the least. Then to Sarah, he
added, "I have an agenda to keep, and since there's only one
of me, I haven't time for wasting it on babysitting."

"Babysitting? Is that what you call it?"

"I'm not a baby!" Seth wailed, jumping down from his little
stool in the lean-to and making a beeline for his room.

Equally upset was Rachel, who slammed down the fork she
was polishing to follow in Seth's trail, making a point to shut
their bedroom door with a bang.

Rocky glared at Sarah. "Now look what you've done," he
said, his forehead knit together in a cavernous frown.

"Me! I did nothing but recommend you take Seth with you
to the field. You're the one who broke his heart by suggesting
he'd be nothing but trouble."

"Don't be dramatic. The boy will survive, and I didn't say
he'd be nothing but trouble."

"You implied as much."

"It's not my problem if he chose to see it that way."

Without forethought, she inched closer, matching her husband's angry glare. "How dare you treat an innocent five-yearold as if he were a bother? Does it not occur to you that your
nephew could use some male attention?"

His eyes flashed in their usual show of impatience. "Does
it not occur to you that I have a farm to run? If the boy starts
tagging along with me, I won't accomplish a thing in the way
of work. I have fences to mend, soil to till, machinery to repair,
animals to feed." He threw up his arms. "How am I supposed
to do all that and still keep watch over a child?"

"Why don't you hire someone to help you if you're so overwhelmed? I'm sure you can afford it," she replied, surprising
even herself with her forthrightness.

Now his eyes blazed with more than impatience. "I'm sorry
to report that I haven't a great deal of wealth. Disappointed?"
He leaned in close enough to touch her cheek with his hot
breath, close enough to kiss her. Nervously she looped a loose
strand of hair behind her ear and felt her back go ramrod
straight.

"Certainly not," she replied. "I couldn't care less about
your moneyor lack thereof."

"Really? It's obvious you're accustomed to far more than
what I have to offer you." She quivered when his eyes roamed
the length of her. "In fact, I daresay you haven't broken a sweat
till today." When he would have touched a finger to her damp
brow, she angled her face away.

"My only concern is for the children," she hastened. "Your
hiring help would free you up for giving them your attention." Best to stay on track, she mused, much as she'd like to counter
his crudeness.

His well-chiseled chin jutted forward as he cast a hurried
glance at the closed bedroom door. "They have you to look
after them now."

She shook her head. "I'm not enough for them. They need
a father."

"Pfff." His firm mouth tensed, the clear-cut lines of his
profile sharpening. "They seem to have fared fine without one
up till now."

Goodness, but he was a hard-boiled rattlebrain, and she
might have told him so were it not for her Christian witness.
My, but it was hard to rein in her temper where Rocky Callahan was concerned. Several practiced breaths later, she raised
her chin and brushed her hands on her soiled skirt. "I've work
to do," she muttered.

For a change, he stood stock still, his only movement a
twitching nerve that spanned his square-set jaw. "As do I," he
finally replied. At the door, he paused and turned. "I expect
when I get back the children's moods will have brightened."

And just like that, he disappeared from view.

When the ancient clock on the wall struck twelve, neither
child's disposition appeared much improved. Although Sarah
had coaxed them from their room, they hadn't smiled once,
even though they'd both complied when she'd asked them to
set the table, fill the water glasses, and take the two rugs by the
door outside for a good shaking. This time, when her husband
entered, she would insist he remove his shoes. It was the least
he could do if she was to keep a tidy house.

When Rocky came inside, however, he bent to untie them of his own accord, kicked them off, and then shoved them up
against the wall with his stocking-covered foot. Once done, he
perused the place in silence, eyed each child with a guarded
look, then fixed his gaze on Sarah. "Something smells mighty
fine," he muttered, shaking off his coat and hanging it on the
hook.

"I made a hearty chicken soup and baked some biscuits. I
added a few vegetables to the broth. I hope you don't mind."

"Why should I mind? Anything you fix will be better
than what I've eaten lately." He took a long breath, glanced
once again at the silent children, then crossed the room and
headed for the sink. As he passed in front of her while rolling
up his sleeves, the scent of barn and animal wafted through
the air.

"Isn't there a pump outside where you could wash up?" He
paused midway between her and the sink and gave her a questioning stare, so she hastily added, "After today, of course."

"There is, but it's winter. I prefer to wash up inside until
warmer weather sets in, if you don't mind."

"I suppose that will be fine, then. Thank you for removing
your shoes at the door."

For the first time, a slight smile made its home on his
mouth. "I've decided not to risk any more of your wrath today."
He pumped a steady stream of water from the faucet and
washed his hands, grabbing a nearby bar of soap and working
up a good lather before rinsing them. Sarah stepped forward
and handed him a dry towel. He gave her a look that flickered
with a hint of warmth. "Thank you."

She relaxed her shoulders and returned a shy smile. It was
a start.

His new wife was a good cook. Funny, he hadn't expected
it of her. Oh, he'd known all along she'd be good to the children, but the fact she could cook and clean was a nice bonus.

After a painfully quiet lunch, during which both children
watched him with suspicion, he pushed his chair back and
suppressed a belch, inwardly knowing Sarah would balk if he
indulged himself.

"Are you finished already?" she asked, dabbing her spotless chin with a napkin. The children looked up when Sarah
spoke, Rachel's face holding a perpetual frown.

Rocky viewed his wife from across the table. She'd changed
out of her drab black skirt and yellow blouse into a vivid blue
gown that served to lighten her hazel-colored eyes, and had
even piled her wandering locks of burnished, wine-red hair
back into a tight little bun. Had she primped in the hope of
pleasing him? Well, she needn't have bothered, he ruled. No
matter how pretty she might be, he wasn't about to start lavishing her with attention.

"Yes," he replied, setting his napkin beside his plate. When
he would have stood, it occurred to him she was waiting for his
formal request to leave the table.

Irked, he gave her what truly must have been a scathing
look. "Uh, excuse me. Please."

The smile she gifted him with was as wide as the whole
state of Kentucky, and for reasons unknown to him, it tugged
at a cold, dark place in his heart. "You're excused," she said,
pulling back her shoulders in a show of pride.

Irritated with himself for wishing he could make her smile last, he stood up, then took a moment to glance at Seth. The
boy watched him with wariness, his light brown eyebrows puckered, his mouth turned down into a pout.

How else will he learn if you don't teach him?

"You want to come with me, kid?" he asked, dumbfounded
when the words rolled off his tongue.

"Me?" Seth squealed. Brown eyes, the color of dark chocolate, grew to twice their normal size. "You mean it?"

"I don't want you thinking we'll be making a habit of it,
especially once planting season arrives."

The lad's back went straight as a trusty oak. "All right."

One day he'll be a man. Rocky gave his head a mental shake.
"Come on then. We don't have all day."

At that, the boy pushed back his chair and leaped to his
feet. "Yippee!" he yelped.

"Wait. Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.

Confusion shaded the boy's expression and he stood stockstill. "Huh?"

Smothering a grin, he nodded from Seth to Sarah. "You
best ask first if you may be excused."

"Oh, yeah." Seth looked at Sarah, impatience seeping from
his very pores. "Can I go now?"

Her gentle laughter rippled through the air, putting Rocky
in mind of a warm brook on an August afternoon. Swallowing
hard, he shoved the annoying simile to the back of his head.

"Of course," she replied, her sparkling teeth gleaming. "I
suppose Rachel and I can manage without you for the rest of
the day. What do you think, Rachel?"

Rachel wore a hint of a smile, but chose not to respond,
just gave a slow nod. Rocky took it as a sign of approval.

Well, what do you know? The girl was coming around.

The hard, cold earth refused to give under Rocky's
weight as he and Seth trudged past the barn and other outbuildings just minutes later. The pair's hot breath formed
puffy, white wisps of vapor as they hurried down the path,
Rocky having to slow his steps for the eager five-year-old's
smaller ones.

Hungry chickens in search of seed picked greedily at the
dry, icy ground. "Go inside, ya dumb birds," Rocky mumbled
at them. "There's plenty of food in your coop."

Seth giggled. "They're dumb, ain't they, Uncle Rocky?"

"Aren't they," Rocky corrected. "Don't say `ain't.' And, yes,
they are pretty stupid."

"Why do you pots 'em if they're so dumb?"

Rocky glanced down at Seth and found the boy's head
turned toward him, his face filled with sincere curiosity. "I
have them because they give us tasty eggs. `Gots' is not a word,
Seth."

"I don't like eggs."

Rocky repressed a grin. "So you've said. Well, you like to
eat chicken, don't you?"

"I guess."

They walked up a steep incline, neither speaking again for
the next several minutes, as they made their way to the first
fence line needing repair. "We'll stop here," Rocky said, hauling his tool strap off his shoulder and bringing out what items
he would need for repairing the fallen board.

Seth seemed to size up the damage to the fence. "How'd
it get broke?"

"One of the cows kicked it last fall. I figure she was stung by a couple of wasps when she got curious about that nest down
there."

Rocky pointed at the ground. Seth's eyes followed a path
to the destroyed nest now lying deserted on the ground just
under the fence. Obvious interest had the boy bending over
it, his eyes filled with nervous excitement. "I never seen one
before," he cried.

"Yeah? Well, look your fill. It's harmless now."

Seth immediately took the gray creation in with greedy
eyes and, before Rocky could stop him, had his hands on the
thing, gingerly picking it up. "Can I take it home and show
Rachel? She never seen one neither."

"Is that a fact?" He'd known his sister Elizabeth had lived
in the city with her two kids, but had she never taken them to
the country? It seemed hard to believe that the boy had never
laid eyes on a simple hornets' nest. "Suit yourself," he replied,
hauling out his hammer and a handful of nails. While Seth
scrutinized the nest inside and out, Rocky looked on.

Without warning, a picture of his son flashed across his
mind. Joseph would have been five, not much different in size
from Seth and certainly no less inquisitive about life. If he
thought about it long enough, he could see similarities in the
boys-the color of their hair and eyes, and, at times, even the
sound of their voices. In fact, the resemblance was almost eerie,
so much so that looking at Seth now made him ache inside.