Robin (6 page)

But now—now, in Ty Morgan’s arms . .
.
This is silliness, Robin. He helped you up . . . nothing more. He was only being a gentleman
.
Yet, the thrum of his heart matched the cadence of hers. And though she had both feet on the ground, he did not release her from his embrace.

“Got your bearings? I don’t want to let go of you until you do.” His arm tightened around her shoulders. “Who were they?”

Robin pulled away to look at him. “Who were they?”

The space between his eyebrows crinkled. “The other two men who helped you. Who were they?”

Did it truly matter to him? “My papa and a friend of the family.”

“Not a man friend? A friend friend. Right?”

This was new territory for her—this sensation that someone like Ty Morgan might be interested in her. Did she dare imagine even a bit of jealousy? Her limited intuition about such matters told her this was not the wisest time to expound on her relationship with William Benson. She smiled. Perhaps Ty wouldn’t sense her hesitancy. How could she explain William to another man? “An old friend.”

He leaned closer. “And how would you describe me to this ol
d
friend?”

            
 
She took a deep breath. Oh my, but he smelled good; however, she’d resist the urge to sniff again. Warmth tingled her toes, swirled through her tummy, and moved right on up. She wanted to fan herself, but that would be a bit awkward. Besides, the fan would doubtless send a whiff of pickle juice right to his nostrils. “I suppose I would say you’re
a
ne
w
friend.”

              Ty chuckled. “I expected something a bit more eloquent, like—dashing or handsome.” His arm moved to her waist. “Let’s walk. I have something I want you to see. Maybe then you will even say I’m specia
l.
”

              “Is it far? I don’t want Jacob to be frightened if he wakes up and doesn’t see us right away.”

              “Not far, and we’ll be able to hear if he calls. Promise.” Ty led her around the other side of the tree that sheltered their picnic spot.

The large trunk, on the side not previously visible to Robin, was hollowed out, a depression large enough for only one person. Ty loosened his grip on her waist. “This is my ‘leaning’ tree. I hid in here for the first time after my pa scolded me for not keeping my word. I rolled a pair of socks together with a clean shirt, got my fishing pole, and ran away from home.”

Robin laughed. “And you knew this place was here?”

Ty nodded. “John showed it to me one day. I came down here often when I was a boy. Your grandmother Wenghold made the best molasses cookies in Kansas, and she was just as sweet. I wouldn’t be surprised if John hid in this same tree when he was a lad.”

“Did your papa know where to find you?

“Now that I’m older I’m quite sure he knew all about this place. He left me out here the first night to teach me a lesson. I sat on the ground with my bundle of clothes until it grew too dark to see.”

“Were you afraid of the dark?”

He shook his head. “Not the dark around me, but the dark eyes I’d encounter when I faced my pa. I knew he would be disappointed and that was worse than any spanking he could have administered.”

“You said it was your ‘leaning’ tree.” Robin scrunched herself into the cavity and leaned against the rough bark. “It is comfortable, isn’t it?”

“I got too big to huddle down on the ground inside, but I could lean against it all day. It’s my ‘safe’ place. This old tree knows more about me than anyone living. When my pa was dying, I would come here and let the familiar notch embrace me. It frightened me to think of taking over the responsibility of running the ranch myself. I spent the night after Ma died in here, listening to the night sounds and watching clouds sweep across the face of the moon. I needed the familiar noises and scenes that I’d experienced with her, sitting on our porch or walking down the lane in the dark. And that night after . . .”

Robin put her fingers on his lips. She didn’t know what memory she interrupted, but with each remembrance his eyes darkened, and the furrow on his brow deepened. “Didn’t you ever come here in happy times? Has this tree ever seen you smile?”

He placed his hands on either side of the entrance and leaned toward her.
“
Thi
s
is a happy time, Robin.” His gaze met hers. “And I’m smiling.”

He was so near she could hear the stead
y
tick, tick, tic
k
. . . She closed her eyes
.
Oh, Robin, you silly girl
.
It wasn’t his heart.

“The big hand is on a one and a two, Ty. Now can we go fishing?” Jacob wiggled his way between them, the watch held high in his hands like a trophy.

###

Ty waited for Jacob’s rhythmic breathing to signal the tyke was asleep before he blew out the lamp and made his way downstairs. He didn’t want to take a chance the little scamp would interrupt his conversation with Robin again. He’d come close to telling her about his one and only love, until now. Why? He’d never even shown her his tree. Why was it important for Robin to know his past?

John met him at the bottom of the steps. “You get the boy down for the night?”

“I think so. He was pretty tuckered from his day of fishing.”

“Robin’s on the porch if you would rather talk to her than me.” John grinned.

“Thanks, but you’re welcome to join us.”

“ ’Bout as welcome as a cricket chirpin’ under your bed.”

Ty chuckled. For a man who’d never had a wife, John Wenghold understood the ways of courting. Could a man become wise without experience? He smiled at the mere thought of John wooing a lady. But is that wha
t
h
e
was doing? Courting? Wooing?

He stepped to the porch and leaned against a pillar. Robin sat sideways in the swing, her head resting against the high wooden back. Were her eyes closed? It was hard to tell in the light of the crescent moon. Maybe he should get on Tag and ride home.

“You’re staring.”

“I thought you might be sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She opened her eyes and sat up. “Just thinking about today. Thank you for showing Jacob such a good time.

He joined her on the swing and put one arm across the back. “And how about you, Miss Wenghold. Did you have a good time, too?”

She turned to him. “I did have a good time. I especially liked your leaning tree. But I wish it held more happy memories for you.”

“Oh, it’s full of happy recollections. I just didn’t get around to telling you about them before we were joined by a certain little boy.”

              “I was thinking perhaps your tree would be a good place for Jacob. He doesn’t want to talk about a pa, but maybe he’d tell the tree.”

              “You mean spy on him? Listen to him?”

              She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. You could tell him how special it was and how you could tell the tree anything. Maybe it would give him a safe place.”

              “But, Robin, it wasn’t the tree I talked to when I went there—I talked to God. God was my safe place.”

              “That’s not what you said. You said that tree knew more about you than anyone.”

              “Because when I was there I prayed. I learned early that I could tell God anything. It isn’t a popular idea among many people, but my parents believed it with all their heart. I’ve never been afraid to voice even my deepest . . .” He took a deep breath, much like he used to do before jumping into water he knew was over his head. The only difference now—he didn’t dare hold his nose.

He moved his arm so his hand rested on her shoulder. “Robin, a year ago I was . . .”

The door flew open and Jacob bounded onto the porch. “Ty, Ty, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. Please.” The boy threw himself against Ty’s legs.

Ty groaned. Was this child destined to always wiggle his way between him and Robin? Could he never have more than ten minutes alone with her? He lifted Jacob onto his lap. “I’m not leaving forever, Jacob. I’ll be back tomorrow, remember?”

Jacob clutched Ty’s arm and curled into his lap. “I wished you could stay here all night. Don’t you Robin?”

Robin’s foot pushed against the porch and the swing lurched.

Ty wrapped his arms around the boy. Was this tyke’s mama glad when he learned to talk?

SIX

John grimaced when he entered Emma’s Mercantile. Henrietta Harvey, of all people, stood chattering and waving her hands like a travelin’ preacher. Why, she was the biggest gossip in Cedar Bluff.

              “Good morning, John.” Emma stepped from behind the counter. “What brings you to town so early? How’s that niece of yours?”

              Henrietta bustled his direction, chirping like a peahen. “Oh yes, I want to hear all about that girl, John Wenghold. Now Carl Rempel told me about her nearly two weeks ago. I says to him, I said, ‘Carl, I’ve been praying ever so long for a nice girl for my Albert and look how the Lord answers.’ Why, who’d think John Wenghold would have . . .”

              John raised his hand. “Well, Henrietta, I don’t know as how God has answered your prayers at all. Seems to me if the Good Lord was a wantin’ my niece to be hitched up with your son He would’ve let me in on it, don’t you think?”

              “I don’t know, John. I don’t suppose He’d have anything to tell you unless you were in the habit of listening.” Henrietta shook her finger under his nose. “It’s a real shame you haven’t brought that girl to church. There’s many a young woman who would jump at the chance to be with my Albert.”

              John snorted. “Then what you doin’ prayin’ for someone? Ain’t Albert old enough to say his own prayers?” He propped his hip against the counter and stuck one hand in his pocket. He’d keep the other one free to snitch a gumdrop if Emma would move away from the big glass jar that held them.

              Emma laughed. “Listen, if you two are gonna tangle with one another you can do it somewhere else. Now, what can I help you with today, John?”

              He shook his head. He had no intention of talking about the tyke they’d taken in where Henrietta could hear. “Oh, thought I’d just look around. Maybe see what you got new since the last time I come to town.”

              “You do that. I have some pretty new hand painted teacups. Not another woman in the area has anything so nice.”

              “Oh, but you’re mistaken, Emma Ledbetter.” Henrietta scrunched between them. “I saw some real bone china ones over at Florence Blair’s when she served our ladies missionary meeting last week. Did you ever say why you weren’t there? Well, I suppose you had a good excuse. The teacups had a gold rim, too. Do yours have a gold rim? John, now tell me your niece’s name. Carl Rempel said it was a bird name but couldn’t remember which one.”

            
 
Jumpin’ bullfrogs, the woman don’t even take a breath before she starts waggin’ her tongue again.

              She tittered. “He got quite a chuckle out of it, though. Said she was a feisty little thing. I says to him, I said, ‘Now, Carl, I would thin
k
spirite
d
might be a better word for a young lady. And I don’t imagine her mama thought it one bit funny to name her after a bird.’ Though I do have to say I’ve never heard the like. It is a bit strange, don’t you think?”

              “Don’t seem so strange to me
,
He
n
-rietta.” The look on Mrs. Harvey’s face gave him a good belly laugh, but he’d have to wait until she harrumphed her way to the door before he could turn it loose. He nearly choked on his own spit when Henrietta turned, her hands cupped around her mouth, like they was a mile away.

              “Emma, I almost forgot what I came here to tell you.”

She paraded toward them, her skirts flapping around her ankles. If she got tangled he’d be the one to catch her. He took a step back.

“Florence told us at the meeting Anna is returning to Cedar Bluff. She’ll arrive two weeks come Saturday. But she wants to keep it a surprise for Ty.” She shook her finger at John. “And don’t you tell him, either.” She lowered her head and marched to the door, elbows flapping against her plump sides.

              John groaned as Henrietta did another sashay and headed back his direction. It seemed she was winding up again.

              “Behave yourself,” Emma hissed. “You make her mad and she’ll never leave.”

              Henrietta puffed to a stop and tapped one pudgy finger against his chest. “Did you ever tell me the girl’s name? Oh, don’t you never mind. You bring her to church on Sunday and I’ll ask her myself.”

              He shook his head. “Nope. Ain’t gonna promise nothin’ of the kind. It’ll be up to Robin when she’s ready.”

              “Ooh. So it’s Robin? Well, how quaint. Hmm. I do wonder how they came up with that name. Never mind. The poor girl can’t help what her parents called her. Besides, Albert will be so excited to meet her.” She fluttered her eyelids and wiggled her fingers. “Oh my. How exciting. I can’t wait to tell Albert.” The bell above the door jangled as she departed.

              John rested his elbows on the counter and shook his head. “Now what should I do, Emma?”

              “You’ll do what you said. When she’s ready, you bring her to church.” Emma grabbed her feather duster.

              “It’s not that easy. Let me tell you what’s happened.” He motioned for Emma to move closer.

              Thankful no one came in while he filled Emma in on the details about the boy, John sighed and wiped his forehead with his bandana. “So, I need clothes that would fit a youngster about as tall as my belt line here, and some boots and––well, doggone it, Emma, I don’t know what all a kid needs.”

              “Why didn’t you send Robin sooner?” Emma ran the duster over the counter and rearranged the candy jars.

              “She and Ty been too busy with the boy to leave.”

              Emma cocked her head. “She and Ty?”

              “For some reason the youngster don’t seem to trust men, though he took to me right off.” John winked. “Course, I’m one of them fellas what people tend to favor and all.”

              “If the boy chose you over Ty I’m concerned he maybe got hit in the head during the storm.” She poured a sack of gumdrops into one of the empty jars. “So, how does that fact keep the both of them so busy your niece doesn’t have time to visit our fair little village?”

              “Ty’s been spending ever’ wakin’ minute at the Feather. Dug up some worms and took Robin and the tyke fishin’. Dug up a small plot for flowers for Robin. Reads and prays with the boy every night. It’s payin’ off, too. Saw Jacob give him a big ole grin and a hug after Ty hung a swing from the tall cottonwood tree out back of the house.” John inched his fingers toward the jar of gumdrops.

              “Sounds like he might also be trying to win Robin’s approval.”

              “Yeah. I think he might be—” He slammed his hand on the counter. “My lands, Emma. Did Henrietta say Anna Blair was a comin’ back?”

              Emma nodded. “I’m afraid so. Bad timing, isn’t it?”

              “No time would be good as far as I’m concerned. Never did like the idea of Ty hitchin’ up with that girl. She’s too uppity.”

              “And you’ve already decided Robin and Ty would be a better hitch?” Emma smiled.

              “Don’t know as I’ve been decidin’ anything of the sort. Gave you my thinkin’ on the Blair girl, that’s all.” John flicked at an invisible crumb. “Missed one.”

              “Did no such thing, and you know it.” Emma waved the duster in his direction. “Just because Anna is coming back to town doesn’t mean Ty will take up with her again. Time changes things. Most likely Anna has a beau back East. She’s a beauty.”

              “Yeah, she’s a looker. No doubt about that. That’s the funny thing, Emma. Robin—she’s stuck about as far on the end of the pole as you can get from Anna, but Ty seems taken by her.”

              “What would you know about a man being taken by someone?” Emma swished the feathers across his shoulder.

              John plucked the duster from her hand. “What I knows might up and surprise ya, Emma girl.” He grinned and grabbed a piece of licorice.”

              “You put that back, John Wenghold—or else pay for it.”

              He bit off a chunk. “Can’t put it back. I done et some of it, but you can put it on my ticket.” He tickled Emma’s cheek with the feather duster and grinned when she turned pink.

              “You get out of here.” Emma shooed him away with a flick of her wrist. “I’ll have some things ready for the boy when you get back.”

              John stepped onto the street and puffed out his chest
.
That Emma’s some woman
.
He smiled to himself and tipped his hat to a passerby
.
Yes, siree. Quite a woman.

              A floorboard squawked as he entered the building that doubled as post office and living quarters for Albert Harvey and his mother. Curled in a patch of sunshine, a fuzzy yellow cat opened one eye when John approached the counter. It stretched, bared its claws, then settled back into a purr.

              “Albert? You in here?” The place seemed deserted. John adjusted his glasses to read the notices on the wall while he waited. One in particular caught his eye
.
WANTED: Women willing to settle in Colorado to live and work on ranches. Can promise husbands. Only healthy young women need apply.

              “Oh, it’s you, John Wenghold.” Henrietta waddled from behind the curtain. “Why, fancy seeing you two times in one day. Oh my. Albert is feeling poorly, dear boy. I says to him, I said, ‘Albert dear, it’s a good thing I’m still living with you, otherwise you would have to lay abed all day without anyone to even care.’ You know, what the boy needs is a wife. Unfortunately, until your niece arrived there simply has been no one in this town worthy of my son.”

              John sighed. Until Henrietta, he’d never known a female could tucker a man just by opening her mouth. How could she get so many words out of one suck of air? He pointed to the notice. “Surely women don’t answer such a thing, do they?”

              “Why, of course they do.”

              “Ever think of Albert advertising for a wife like that there?”

              Henrietta sputtered and took such a deep breath her second chin popped above her lace colla
r
.

              Whew! If words come with that swallow of air, I’ll never get out of town
.
“Sorry to hear about Albert. I suppose you can give me my mail?” He didn’t want to wind her up again. Besides, he was teasing about Albert ordering a wife.

              “Albert has no need to resort to such tactics. Why, any girl in her right mind would be proud to be the wife of the postmaster. You wait and see. I came right home from Emma’s and told Albert all about your niece. I didn’t say much about her name, though. He’ll find out about that soon enough, won’t he? Why, hearing about her made the poor boy feel so much better. I could tell by the way he smiled. A mother knows the ways of her son.” She clutched her hands to her bosom. “Oh my goodness, I do believe the Lord gave me a wonderful thought this very minute.”

              He stepped back as her hands fluttered as if she were doing some kind of dance. Hopefully her whole body wouldn’t join in.

              “Did you ever think about ordering you a wife? Some even wonder why I don’t marry again.” She smoothed the sides of her hair with both hands and fluttered her eyelids.

              Well
,
h
e
never wondered. No siree. “The mail, Henrietta? Have you forgotten about my mail?” The tiny room closed in on him. He needed fresh air. Her sputtering about marriage with him all alone in the same space made him downright queasy.

              “Oh, of course. Silly me.” She fanned herself with the sheaf of mail she pulled from the W box. “I could help you write the advertisement. Some say I have a real way with words.”

              “Henrietta? The mail. Please. I do believe it’s right there in your hand.”

              Henrietta tapped the mail against her chin. “John, do you ever hear from Eunice Parker? You were sweet on her once, as I recall. Now my sister, Maude Everly—I’m sure you remember Maude. She was older than me, but not near so comely—well, she’s kept in touch with Eunice all these years. She could give you her address if you’d like. It would be so romantic, don’t you think? I hear tell she never married.”

              John reached across the counter and pulled the mail from her hand. “Thank you, Henrietta. I’ll be goin’.”

              Henrietta pushed the cat out of the way and propped her elbows on the counter. “You know, John. You would make Eunice such a good husband. She was always a bit . . . oh, I don’t know. I suppose I would have to say a bit plain. I always thought the two of you would go so well together.”

              John let the door slam behind him
.
Plain? So that’s how she’d describe me? Plain
?
Well, he’d do everything in his power to warn Robin about Mr. Albert Harvey and his wife-huntin’ mama.

              He stopped and peered at his reflection in the window of the barbershop
.
Don’t know who he is, but that guy standin’ just a starin at me—now, he’s a plain one
.
He smoothed his eyebrows with his fingertips then twirled an imaginary mustache
.
A real smart aleck, too, tryin’ to imitate me. Bet the fella never had him a girl.