Small Treasures (12 page)

And what about Abby? a little voice inside him whispered.

He lay back down again. Abby would be leavin' after the judge came to town. Then everything would go back to the way it was before. The way it should be.

Even as he thought it, he felt the touch of her lips again. Felt the eagerness in her small form as she molded herself to him. Deliberately, he closed his eyes and started saying the alphabet. Anything to keep from remembering. To keep from wishing that things could be different.

He had to get that other room built quick. And then he'd have to keep his distance from Abby. No matter what it took. He had no idea why she'd wanted him to kiss her, but he did know that it couldn't happen again.

There was no reason for him to pretend that anything could come of it. No woman would want a man like him. And besides, even if she did want him, he'd never be able to trust himself around her.

Like his mother had always told him… a man his size had to get used to livin' alone. Because, even without tryin', he could do a lot of damage with just a flick of his hand. And it would kill him if he ever did anything to hurt Abby.

Chapter Eight

Abby slipped another biscuit onto the boy's plate. It was amazing. She'd never have believed a child could eat that much. But he'd hardly stopped for breath. Silently she wondered how long it had been since he'd had a decent meal. She knew that she'd never forget the sight of the child's scrawny little body when she'd insisted he take off his shirt and wash before eating. Why, she'd been able to count the boy's ribs! And dirty! Clearly, a wash at the pump handle wasn't going to be enough.

But, she told herself, there was plenty of time for that. First things first. She noticed then that he'd finally stopped reaching for more food, so she asked quietly, "What's your name, child?"

He glanced up at her and quirked an eye brow. "I ain't no child, lady. The name is Luke. Luke Daley."

"Where're your parents, Luke?"

"Ain't got none," he said and pushed away from the table.

"But where's your home? Where are you from?" Surely there was someone somewhere worried about the boy.

He paced the small cabin restlessly. "I guess I'm from all over. Ain't got no right home."

Maverick and Harry followed him closely, Harry entangling himself in the boy's legs, whining for attention.

"Get on, you dumb dog." Luke frowned at the animal and walked back to the table. "Harry, Maverick," Abby said softly, "come here."

The dogs trotted to her side and laid down.

Luke plopped down onto a chair and shook his head at the two animals. "Them two is about the ugliest things I ever seen."

Abby had a silly notion of wanting to cover the dogs' ears so they wouldn't hear the dirty little stranger insult them. Instead, she said,

They're very sweet dogs." Yeah?" His eyebrows rose as if to say it was a good thing they had something goin' for them.

Abby decided to try for some information again. "Why were you out in the henhouse, Luke?"

He shrugged. "Just lookin' for some eggs to suck." He looked up defiantly. "I was hungry is all."

That Abby could understand. The poor child all alone in a wide open country like this with winter coming on. No home, no parents. Why, if it hadn't been for Uncle Silas, she reminded herself, she would have been no better off than Luke. She, too, would have been forced into stealing… or worse.

"Where have you been staying?" she asked softly. "Around here?" He shrugged his bony shoulders again. "Here and there. I get by all right."

"But," she said, "there's a town just at the foot of the mountain. Why didn't you go there? Ask for help?"

"I don't need no charity, lady. I make my own way." He thrust his chin out. "And now I'll pay you for that meal, too."

"Pay me?"

"Yep. I'm right strong for my size… " His gaze moved over the cabin. "And if you don't mind my sayin' so, this here place looks like it could do with some fixin' up."

Abby blinked and looked around her. She'd thought the cabin was coming along nicely.

"And who the hell painted the place pink?"

She stiffened and Maverick whined when her feet shifted and dislodged his head from its resting place. "J did. And I would prefer it if you didn't curse, thank you."

Luke shook his head. "I ain't never seen nothin' like it before." Squinting at her, he asked, "How come pink?"

"I like pink. It's very cheerful. Bright."

"It surely is that." He cocked his head and looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. "Your man like it too?"

"My man?"

"Yeah. Your man. Husband."

"Well, I'm not married, Luke." She looked around the cabin, a little uneasily. "And Samuel, the man who lives here with me… well, he hasn't seen it yet."

The boy snorted. "Don't think I wanta be around when he does." Then what she'd said dawned on him. "You livin' here with some fella and you two ain't hitched?"

"Yes." She smiled at him. "We share the cabin." Luke's blue eyes widened considerably, and he stared at her in astonishment. "What is it? What's wrong?" Abby asked, concerned.

"It ain't decent, that's what." He shook his head slowly. "And you tell me not to cuss!"

# # #

Samuel stepped out of the Wolf River Restaurant and sighed. Nothin' was the same any more. Why, he used to look forward to eatin' at the place, just to get a break from his own cookin'. But not anymore. That blasted cook couldn't hold a candle to Abby. Now she'd gone and spoiled this for him, too! Samuel knew that from here on, he'd be comparin' Abby's featherweight biscuits to everybody else's, and that no one would come up to snuff.

He glanced over at the lumber mill and saw that his wagon was almost completely loaded. Good. He'd be glad to get out of town and back to the mountains for some peace.

Samuel stiffened as a short, balding man, keeping his gaze firmly locked on the dirt road, scurried past him. It was always the same, wherever he went. No one looked him in the eye, women walked a wide berth around him, and children ran from him. He jammed his hands in his pants pockets and marched off down the street. He paid no attention to the folks that jumped out of his way. He was used to that.

In fact, ever since he'd outgrown every other boy in his hometown, people had been fightin' shy of him. It did no good to try to be friendly, he remembered. Folks were just too blamed nervous around him.

When he reached the end of the street, Samuel stopped. Ignoring the curious stares of the townspeople, he looked at the shop opposite him. A barber. Hadn't Abby offered just the other day to cut his hair for him?

Maybe, he told himself, she'd been hintin' at something. Just then he caught a glimpse of himself in a store window.

His shoulder-length blond hair hung down from beneath his weatherbeaten hat, and his full, bushy beard looked as though mice had been nestin' in it. Slowly he reached up and rubbed his jawline. How long had it been since he'd had a shave? His brow furrowed as he realized he couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his own face.

Well, hell, he told himself. He had to wait for the lumber anyways, might as well do it in a barber's chair as anywhere else. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he crossed the street and went inside.

"Luke, what do you think of this one?" Abby held out the red checked shirt for the boy's inspection. She managed to hold her tongue at the boy's grimace, but not without effort. Looking to Minerva for assistance, Abby dropped the shirt back onto the pile and turned to stare out the mercantile window.

As Minerva Mullins took Luke in hand, Abby asked herself again why she'd even bothered to bring the boy along with her to town. It certainly wasn't for his company. The boy had hardly said a word… and there wouldn't be much room for supplies in the dilapidated old buggy with Luke riding alongside her.

She sighed helplessly and admitted that it had been the expression on his face when she'd announced she was going into town. Almost as if he was being abandoned.

"I tell ya, I ain't takin' no charity!"

Abby glanced over her shoulder and saw Luke's bottom lip jut out stubbornly as he glared at Minerva. But, judging by Minerva Mullins's features, the boy didn't stand a chance.

"All right, boy," Minerva said with strained patience. "You already been told this ain't charity. I ain't in the habit of handin' out clothes to any scruffy-lookin' youngster I see."

"Scruffy-lookin'?"

Abby smiled at the offended tone in Luke's voice.

"That's right. Scruffy." Minerva shook her finger at him. "I seen half-drowned mutts look better'n you do right now."

He turned to leave, but she caught him. They stared at each other, neither one willing to give an inch. Finally Abby broke into the strained silence.

"Luke, we've already discussed this. Remember?" He glanced at her and she went on. "You said that you would stay at the cabin for a while and help out with the fixing up.

That will more than pay for these clothes." "You reckon?" he said softly, almost convinced.

"I reckon." Abby nodded at him, then turned to Minerva. "While you're fitting him out, I'll just go back into the storeroom and look for some more paint, if that's all right."

"More paint?" Minerva asked, her eyes wide. "Abby, I know I don't have any more pink back there."

Abby started moving toward the storeroom door and threw a quick smile over her shoulder. "Oh, that's all right. I just need a little for the trim. I want to surprise Samuel when he gets home."

Minerva stared slack-jawed at the closed door and shook her head. Heaven only knew what the woman would find back there. But whatever it was, Minerva was willing to bet that Samuel would be plenty surprised.

"You mean to say it was you sold her that gawdawful paint?"

Minerva looked at the boy and shrugged. "Wasn't nothin' I could do about it. Once that girl's mind gets set, ain't nothin' gonna change it."

"Maybe." Luke cocked his head and looked up at the woman. "But what's this Samuel gonna say about it?"

"Ain't no tellin'."

"I call it mighty strange," Luke mumbled.

"Hmm? What?"

"I say, I call it almighty strange." He looked at the door where Abby'd disappeared. "Some fella and this woman livin' in the same place… and them not hitched up proper or nothin'… "

Minerva's index finger snapped off her thumb and made a thumping sound against the back of Luke’s head. The boy jumped and rubbed the spot with one grubby hand. "Hey! What's that for?"

"Just remindin' you to watch your manners, boy!" Minerva bent down low and looked him in the eye. "That there's a decent woman yonder. And you'd best treat her as such, or I'm likely to remind you again… a little harder next time."

He stepped just out of reach and said, "It ain't right."

Minerva straightened up and smoothed her hair back. "I'll say this just once, boy. So you listen. Abby Sutton is a fine woman. She come on some hard times now is all She's waitin' on the circuit judge to come back to town to decide if that cabin belongs to her or Samuel." Hands on hips, she finished, "Now, her with no money and no place to go, where do you figure she oughta be stayin', Mr. It Ain't Right?"

Luke scuffed his bare toes along the floor and avoided her eyes.

"Hmmph!" Minerva reached out and grabbed his arm. "That's better. Now, let's get you fixed up quick so's I can get into that storeroom and hide that blasted orange paint my man Alonzo's so proud of!"

# # #

He'd never been this anxious to get home before. Of course, there'd never been anyone at the cabin waiting for him before, either. By all rights, he should have stopped on the road for one more night. He was pushing the horses too hard and he knew it. But he'd make it up to them. Give 'em a good rubdown and some extra grain when they got home. That thought brought to mind all the other animals in his care, and he told himself solemnly that it was for their sake that he was rushing home. Even though he knew that the caged animals would be fine for another day or so. It was better than having to admit that he wanted to get back to Abby.

He shrugged deeper into his heavy jacket and hoped she hadn't been frightened all by herself. Samuel knew better than most just how lonely a mountaintop cabin could be. And Abby just wasn't the kind to like solitude.

The nights were getting colder. He could see the horses' breath steam out in front of them as they pulled their load up the rutted trail.

Samuel rubbed his naked jawline nervously, then pulled the collar of his coat up over his now bare neck. Maybe he shouldn't have had his hair cut, too. Not at the same time anyway. It'd been so long since he'd gotten a good look at his own face, he'd hardly recognized himself in the barber's mirror. And now that he was almost home, he was feeling a little foolish about his decision to get cleaned up.

Hell! Abby probably wouldn't even know him!

As the wagon rolled into the yard, he hoped suddenly that he wouldn't scare Abby into fits by arriving in the dead of night like this.

From the corner of his eye, Samuel saw someone move in the shadows near the animal cages. His stomach tightened. It wouldn't be Abby, he knew. She wouldn't be outside in the dark and cold messin' with animals he'd already told her twice to stay away from.

In the dark it was impossible to tell who it was. Samuel's fingers gripped the reins. He had no friends, so there was no reason for anyone to be wandering around his cabin yard: It had to be a thief. Either set on plundering the cabin, or maybe just takin' some of the wounded animals for an easy meal.

A terrifying thought struck him suddenly.

What if the shadowed visitor had already been inside the cabin? What if, even now, Abby was lying inside, beaten… or worse.

For the second time in his life Samuel didn't bother to recite the alphabet. He allowed the fierce anger swamping him to build and over take his natural tendency to back away from trouble. Whoever it was sneaking around his place was about to find out what a mistake he'd made.

Samuel knew that in seconds the intruder would hear the wagon wheels and the horses' plodding hooves. There would be no chance of coming in unnoticed. The only thing left to do then was to get the upper hand by surprise.