Wolf Creek Father (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 3) (8 page)

Stop it, Allison! Just because that’s what you like doesn’t mean that Colt and the kids aren’t fine with the way things are.

Gathering herself, she asked, “May I sit down?”

“Sure,” Brady said, his hand already deep in the paper bag. “There’s a broke spring in the divan. If you’re not careful, it’ll poke you in the behind. The rocking chair is comfortable, though.” He popped a piece of the candy into his mouth and chewed.

“Thank you, Brady,” Allison said, settling into the chair.

“Ugh!” he said. Allison watched wide-eyed as he ran out onto the porch and spit the candy onto the grass. He came back inside wearing a look of reproach and shoved the bag at her. “It’s
maple.
I hate maple.”

“I’m sorry,” Allison said, appalled by his actions. She felt as if she’d taken one step forward and two back. “It was always a favorite of mine, and most children like pancakes with maple syrup, so I just thought— Well, never mind what I thought. What do you like? I’ll bring it next time, even though it was rude of you to reject my gift the way you did.”

“Sorry,” he quipped. “Next time? Are you gonna make a habit of coming over?”

It was clear that he had no notion what to think about the recent changes in the status quo. That made two of them, she thought, curbing a sigh. “I’ll come sometimes. You and Cilla are welcome at my house, too.”

The plan must have been acceptable because he nodded his shaggy brown head. “Butterscotch.”

“Butterscotch next time, then,” she said, summoning a slight smile. She turned her attention to Cilla, who had untied the twine around the package and spread the paper wide. “I saw the ribbon and remembered that you have a blue gingham dress. I thought the color would be pretty with your eyes and your dark hair.”

Surprised, Cilla looked from the contents of the package to Allison, disbelief in her eyes. “It’s thread and embroidery stuff.”

“Your father mentioned that you might like to learn, and my sister does fine needlework. She’s agreed to teach you the stitches.”

“You don’t embroider?”

“Actually, I do, just not very well. I always make a mess of something and have to pick it out. I can sew, though, if you’d like to learn. I have a new treadle sewing machine.”

Afraid to give away too much of the excitement Allison saw in her eyes, Cilla said, “That might be nice. When can I start the embroidery?”

“Ellie said for you to come over tomorrow after she closes the café.”

“Will Bethany be there?”

“Of course. She lives there.” For convenience sake, Ellie and Bethany lived in rooms above the eating establishment.

“Cilla says Bethany’s a dummy,” Brady offered.

A sharp pang of sorrow pricked Allison’s heart.

Cilla’s face flamed red. “I did not!”

“You said she was dumb. Same thing.”

“Don’t quarrel,” Allison said in her best teacher voice. “Bethany is not dumb.”

“What’s wrong with her, then?” Brady asked.

“She was born with a learning disability.”

“Why?”

“No one knows why, Brady. She can learn, but what she can learn is limited, and some things will always be beyond her comprehension. But she cooks, and sews and plays the pianoforte rather well. She’s also a fairly accomplished artist.”

“She plays the piano?” Cilla asked.

Allison nodded. “She takes lessons from Hattie—Mrs. Carson. I think that if you got to know Bethany, you’d like her. She’s very sweet and she loves doing all the usual things young girls like.”

Cilla looked thoughtful.

“Your father said you might be interested in learning to play the piano,” Allison said.

“I might,” she said with studied nonchalance.

“Well, I spoke to Mrs. Carson and she has room for another student, but you must understand that if you agree to study under her, you must work hard. She doesn’t care much for slackers who just take up her time.”

The sound of boots on the porch snagged everyone’s attention. The screen door swung open, and Colt filled the aperture. The sunlight at his back glinted gold on his streaky hair, creating a portrait of masculine planes and shadows of his face. Standing there with his feet spread apart as if he were bracing for a storm, his broad shoulders filling the doorway and an unreadable expression in his eyes, he looked more than a little dangerous and very exciting.

His posture relaxed when he saw there were no fireworks going off in the room.

“Hello, Miss Grainger.”

The sound of his deep voice speaking her name sent her surging to her feet, her reticule in one hand and the sack of maple candy in the other.

“H-hello,” she said. “I, uh, brought some things over for the children. I was just about to go.” Was her voice as breathless as it sounded?

“Don’t let me run you off. We’d be glad to share our lunch with you.”

“No, thank you. I ate before I came, and I didn’t intend to stay long.” She turned to Brady. “Brady, I’m sorry I made you angry when I said I was disappointed in you. The fact that you can’t read as well as I would like
is
disappointing, but only because I know that school will be much easier if we can figure out what the problem is and fix it. I get disappointed in myself, too, because I can’t seem to help you. What makes me disappointed in
you
is when you don’t give me your best effort. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” he told her after a moment’s thought.

“I know you don’t like doing schoolwork while you’re supposed to be out of school, but I’m going to work hard the rest of the summer, too, to try to find a way to make things easier for you. Is that fair? That we both work even though it’s break time?”

He shot a glance at his father. “I suppose so.”

“Good.” Allison looked at Cilla, who had been watching the exchange and weighing every word.

“Would you like for me to come and walk you to Ellie’s tomorrow evening?” Allison asked.

“No, ma’am. I’ll go by myself. Brady and I are helping out at the mercantile.” She shot her father a dark look. “I’ll walk over from there.”

“Fine, then.” She gave the child an encouraging smile, hoping she didn’t look
too
cheerful. “Good luck. When you decide about the piano lessons, let me know and I’ll set things up with Mrs. Carson.”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing the lessons,” Cilla said, “since I don’t have a piano to practice on.”

“You’re welcome to come to my house whenever you like.”

Cilla considered that. “I’ll think about it,” she said with an indifferent shrug.

“Well, goodbye,” Allison said. “I’ll see you soon.”

She headed for the door and paused when it became obvious that she would have to step very close to Colt to make her exit.

“I’ll walk out with you,” he said, stepping aside and pushing the screen door open for her to precede him.

“Cilla, will you go warm up those peas while I walk Miss Grainger out?”

“I already did.”

“Then set the table, please. Brady, help your sister.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

Colt followed Allison onto the porch. “Let me repay you for whatever you bought for Cilla.”

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. Let’s call it a peace offering.”

“How did things go before I got here?”

“Better than I expected.”

A frown drew his eyebrows together. “When I saw you headed this direction, I got here as fast as I could. I was almost afraid of what I might walk in on.”

“That was pretty obvious,” she said, recalling his face when he stood in the doorway.

He wrinkled his straight nose in embarrassment and rubbed at it in an awkward gesture, shooting an amused glance her way. “Downright shameful, isn’t it?” he said. “The town’s lawman scared of two little kids.”

For an instant, there was no awkwardness between them, just two people sharing a little joke.

“Nothing I’d want getting around town,” she agreed. The seriousness of her tone belied the smile on her lips. She sketched an
X
over her heart. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Thanks,” he said, growing serious. “And thanks for what you said to Brady. Taking part of the blame yourself was brilliant.”

“I didn’t just say it to appease him,” she clarified, surprised that he would think she’d do something like that. “I do disappoint myself when I feel I’ve failed a student in some way. I meant it when I told Brady that I would work hard this summer. I got the letters off earlier, so maybe I’ll soon have some fresh insight.”

“Thank you.”

“As for Cilla, Hattie says she’ll take her as a student if she doesn’t give her any trouble and works hard.”

“So you offered to let her practice at your house.”

“Well, I do have a piano that’s sitting there gathering dust.”

“Do you play?” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops in a familiar gesture.

“In my family, all young ladies learned to play the pianoforte, but not necessarily well,” she said, looking at a spot somewhere beyond his shoulder.

“I’ll wager you did it well. In fact, it’s almost impossible to imagine that there’s anything you don’t do well.”

Was it a compliment? Just a statement of how he perceived her? What? She flashed a quick, uncomfortable smile. “Let’s just say that I play the piano better than I embroider, and that I do a lot of things adequately, if not well.”

“Like what?”

The question caught her off guard. What was going on? Why was he talking about her and not the children? “Why do you ask?”

He lifted one shoulder and a sandy eyebrow. “You intrigue me, Miss Grainger. After watching you one-on-one with my kids, I’m curious about the woman beneath that prim-and-proper exterior you show the world.”

“Why?” she asked again, even more perplexed.

He shook his head, looking as confounded as she felt. “Just trying to get to know the woman who teaches my children a little better, I guess. The woman who buys a young girl a gift after that girl ruined her glasses and hat.”

Allison longed to ask one more “Why?” but figured she should stop while she was ahead. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was behind his questioning. In fact, she wasn’t sure why the sheriff was engaging her in personal conversation.

“I’d better be going,” she said, turning toward the steps.

“What’s in the sack?”

She whirled back around. “What?”

He gestured toward the small brown bag crushed in her right hand. “What’s in the sack?”

“Oh. Maple candy I brought to Brady. He didn’t like it.”

Colt’s eyes brightened. “Maple? That’s my favorite.”

“Mine, too,” she confessed, a bit surprised. Then before she realized what she was doing, she thrust the brown paper bag at him. “Here. Enjoy.”

“Thanks.”

He reached out and took the candy from her, his fingers, warm and strong and rough to the touch, closing around hers for the briefest of seconds before she snatched her hand back.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper over the children,” she said in a rush. “It isn’t like me to be so...poorly behaved. I really was brought up to know better.”

“I didn’t exactly put my best foot forward, either,” he admitted. “So now that we’re working together and have mended fences, don’t you think we should call each other by our first names? I mean, we’ll be spending a lot of time together, and it seems silly to be so formal under the circumstances.”

“I...I suppose it would be all right. I’m Allison.”

“Not Allie?”

“Only to my family,” she told him. “I don’t know what my mother was thinking. With Ellie and Allie in the same room it can become confusing, so I usually go by my full name.”

He smiled and her heart leaped. “Colt.”

“Colton?”

“Nope. Just Colt.” He smiled again. “I’m glad we got that settled. I’ll see you soon.”

For some reason, the innocuous words threw her into a tizzy. She nodded and turned, hurrying toward the street. She’d taken no more than half a dozen steps when she whirled back around to face him. “I was thinking about a couple of things. Cilla has told us about things she’d like to do, but I was wondering about Brady. What does he like to do with his spare time?”

“I don’t know,” he said, clearly embarrassed that he didn’t.

Allison was both surprised and not surprised. She was careful not to let her disappointment show. “Well, I was thinking that it might be a good idea to find out and encourage him to pursue something he likes. It seems to me that since he struggles so with his schoolwork, it would do him a lot of good to find something he can excel at. I think it would give him a lot of confidence.”

Colt mulled over the idea a minute and nodded. “That makes sense.”

She flashed him a quick, nervous smile. “And when you read with him, try not to let him see how frustrated you get. It seems to me that sometimes he puts the wrong sound with a letter. You might try to reinforce the sounds each letter makes. If he’s slow, that’s okay.

“Oh, and he loves hearing stories in class, so I was wondering if you could take a little time each day to read to him since it’s such a chore for him. He’s missing a whole wonderful world of books.”

She saw color rise in Colt’s lean cheeks. “I don’t have any books except Patrice’s family Bible.”

Allison was certain her shock was reflected in her eyes. To her, the notion that any home would be devoid of books was inexcusable, if not downright sinful. “I’m not a reader.”

“But you can read?” she asked, wanting to make certain she was dealing with an even more difficult situation.

“Of course I can read. I just don’t like to.”

Allison released a deep sigh of disbelief. Unimaginable. Still, it was not her duty, nor was it proper, for her to criticize Colt Garrett’s habits, unless those habits were detrimental to his children.

“I have a few books I think he’d enjoy. You, too,” she mused. “
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
and
The Story of a Bad Boy.
I’ll have to look and see what else is on my shelves. It’s a shame Wolf Creek has no library.”

“I’m not sure we should give him any more ideas about being a bad boy,” Colt said. “Seems like he’s a natural at that.”

Allison couldn’t stifle a sudden burst of laughter. “Not to worry. He’ll love it. It’s a humorous story about a little boy with bad manners.”