The Homesteader's Sweetheart (5 page)

“Thank you for helping Grandfather. I’m sure Sam and I can take care of what needs to be done while we’re here.” But what about after they returned home? Did her grandfather really need permanent help?

Jonas cleared his throat, as if he had more to say. Penny waited a few moments before he spoke. Was the man shy or did his hesitation stem from something else? “Thank you for…tending to Breanna during her episode. And after. It was kind of you.”

She had the strangest urge to take his hand. She stared down at the fisted appendage on his thigh, washed white in the moonlight. He held the reins loosely, confident in his control of the horses. Why did she feel the need to comfort him? Was it simply the false intimacy crafted by the darkness surrounding them? Or that Sam and Breanna both slept, so the soft night noises created the feeling of a romantic interlude? Had he charmed Millie Broadhurst with his shy manner, in just this same way?

Uncomfortable, Penny rushed to fill the silence. “It must be a horrible thing for a parent, to have to watch Breanna go through those times. I can’t imagine. Did you ever have seizures when you were a child? I can’t remember if Millie ever had one.”

He tensed at the mention of Breanna’s mother’s name. Did he still have strong feelings for her, then? Was that why Penny made him uncomfortable, why he hesitated when speaking to her? Because she was a reminder of his past?

“No. I never had one.”

“Is there anything that can be done?”

“There is a medicine called bromide that has been found to be helpful to some people, but in Breanna’s case, it makes her overly tired and she is still susceptible to the seizures. But…”

He paused, as if considering whether he should go on. “There’s a doctor over in Cheyenne who has developed a treatment of his own that could help her.”

“That’s wonderful. Is it—it is safe, though?”

“I don’t know much about it. This doctor doesn’t want others to find out his methods. The unfortunate thing is that the treatment is expensive, and I haven’t yet obtained the funds to pay for it.”

“He won’t consider allowing you to pay in increments over time?”

“No.”

She could almost hear the frown in his voice. “That’s why you came to my father’s bank, isn’t it? To get a loan?”

He was slow to answer. “Your father’s bank and every other one between Cheyenne and Bear Creek. My homestead makes enough to feed the family, but not enough to convince them to give me a loan.”

He sounded so distressed, so worn down, that Penny again had the urge to reach out to him, but she kept her fingers clenched in her lap. Didn’t he have anyone to share his burdens with?

“Have you tried asking your church for the funds? Or maybe the folks in Bear Creek could take a special collection.”

She thought she heard him sigh, but when she tried to look at his face, the moonlight only illuminated the shadow of his profile.

“When I asked the preacher, he said there was barely enough money in the congregation to keep him fed. And folks around here were hit hard last winter. Lost a lot of livestock and some lost everything. I can’t ask them to give up what they need to survive.”

“But there must be some way…” Penny knew she sounded desperate, but she wanted Breanna to get the treatment she needed. Even though she’d only known the girl one day, it was clear she was a sweet and special child. “Could you send a letter to Breanna’s grandparents? Surely the Broadhursts would want to help their granddaughter—”

“No.”

Jonas’s sharp retort startled her into silence. “But—”

“When Breanna and I left Philadelphia, they made it clear we weren’t to have any contact with Millie or the family.”

That must’ve hurt him, to be denied contact with the mother of his child. Especially if Jonas still had feelings for Millie.

“I’ll find a way to pay for the treatment. I have to.”

Penny was struck by the determination in her companion’s voice, could imagine the immovable set of his broad shoulders as he said the words. Was that determination what Millie had come to admire in him? And if she’d liked him enough to compromise her morals, why had Millie let her parents send him away?

Penny’s whirling thoughts were interrupted when Jonas let out a soft whistle. It carried in the darkness, startling her into bumping against Jonas’s shoulder.

“Wha—” Sam bolted upright from where he’d dozed off, jostling the wagon with his movement.

Breanna stirred and Jonas reached back to lay a hand on her shoulder. “We’re almost home, sweetheart.”

Penny couldn’t see her grandfather’s house, but she felt the jarring bump as Jonas guided the wagon out of the ruts made from many wagons and into the thicker grass. Had they reached her grandfather’s homestead? Finally? They rounded a copse of trees, and the wooden structure, the cabin smaller than she remembered, came into view in the moonlight.

And a thin, reedy voice answered, “Who’s there? I got a rifle and I’m prepared to use it.”

“Walt?” Jonas’s voice carried into the darkness. “It’s Jonas White. I’ve got a special delivery for you.”

Chapter Five

P
enny woke to a dull thump on the door frame. Hadn’t she just gone to bed?

“C’mon, Penny-girl. Time to greet the sun.”

A glance out the tiny window in her grandfather’s small second bedroom revealed it wasn’t even light outside yet.

Ugh. How could her grandfather be so cheerful this early in the morning? Especially after their late arrival and the time they’d spent around the kitchen table catching up. While Penny hadn’t shared her real reason for getting out of Calvin, her grandfather hadn’t seemed to question why
both
his grandchildren had decided on a visit, and for that she was grateful.

Jonas had been right. Her grandfather was a shadow of the man he’d once been. He seemed much older than the last time she’d seen him a few months ago. Frail, almost.

Not that she’d know it this morning, if the cheer in his voice was any indication.

“You want me to come in and tickle you awake like I used to?”

“No,” she warbled, voice clogged from sleep. In her hurry to escape Calvin, she had forgotten to pack a nightrail, so she’d slept in her chemise. She didn’t want
anyone
coming in to see that. She pushed back the simple quilt covering her and cleared her throat to try again. “I’m awake. I’m coming.”

Her grandfather’s reply was a whistle; she heard the sound fade and surmised he must’ve stepped outside.

Still half asleep, she sat up in the small straw tick bed, wishing for her delightful feather tick at home, and attempted to stretch the back muscles that had tightened up after a day spent riding on an uncomfortable wagon seat.

Without any light coming through the curtainless window, she could barely make out the small table next to the bed and the chest of drawers across the room, but she still remembered the shock she’d suffered last night as she’d carried a lone, wavering candle into the bedroom.

What she’d remembered from her childhood as a warm, welcoming place now seemed shabby and much tinier than before. A layer of dust had covered everything and she’d had to wonder if her grandfather had even cleaned in here since her grandmother’s death.

It was a far cry from what she was used to.

“But I’d rather be here than at home subjected to Mr. Abbott’s advances,” she said aloud, hoping the words would rouse her a bit more. She wasn’t sure it was quite the truth, but she got out of bed anyway and struggled into the second dress, a blue one, she’d packed in her satchel. It was silk, from two seasons ago, though she hadn’t worn it much. It wasn’t one of her favorites. Putting up her hair was the work of a few moments. There was no one to see her here except family, so she settled for a simple chignon that required few pins.

In the kitchen, she splashed her face with cold water from the basin near the door, shivering at the icy blast against her skin. At home, Ethel would have warmed a pitcher for her. By the time she patted herself dry, Sam had stumbled into the kitchen and slumped into a chair at the table. “Is it really morning?” he asked, the words muffled by his arms as he buried his face in them.

“Grandfather seems to think so.”

“He snores.” Poor fellow. He’d been relegated to sleeping in the bigger bedroom with his grandfather, since Penny had taken the only other bedroom.

“Worse than Papa?”

Sam tilted his head up just enough to raise one incredulous eyebrow, and Penny responded with a tired smile. It was a longstanding joke between them that their father’s snores rattled through the upstairs walls of their home.

The shared moment of camaraderie sent a feeling of hope through Penny.

“Good morning, children,” their grandfather said as he pushed through the back door, letting in a burst of cool air.

Penny wondered for a moment if she’d been wrong about her grandfather last night. He seemed almost spry this morning. His face pink from the cold, he looked to be in good health.

“Brought in some eggs.” The older man carefully settled a dish towel he’d folded around several eggs on the table close to where Penny stood. “Thought you might fry us up some breakfast, my dear. Potatoes’re in the cupboard, there.” He pointed to a low cabinet along one wall.

“But—” Penny started to protest, but a yawn caught her unaware.

“Come along, young man. Time’s a-wasting.” He thumped Sam on the back.

The boy scowled.

“The sun’s almost up, m’boy. We’ve got chores to do. I woke up with some ideas for special projects I’d like to get done while you two whippersnappers are here.”

Was one of those projects cleaning the interior of the house? In the rapidly brightening room, Penny could see just how shabby the furnishings were and the layer of dust. She was afraid to know how long it had been since her grandfather had swept the floor.

Sam reluctantly pushed himself out of the chair and followed his grandfather toward the door.

“Penny-girl, we’ll be back in a bit for our morning grub.”

“But—” The door closed behind them before she could form a full protest.

Her eyes fell on the eggs waiting on the table. She didn’t know the first thing about frying them.

* * *

An hour later, Penny crouched next to her grandfather’s water well, trying to stop coughing. Tears streamed down her face and dripped onto her now soot-covered dress.

“Whoohee!” her grandfather exclaimed as he came out the kitchen door and down the steps, waving a towel. Smoke billowed out behind him.

“Where’s Sam?” Penny coughed again as she pushed the words out of her smoke-parched throat.

“Opening the front door and windows.” Her grandfather stopped halfway to the well and bent over with hands on his knees.

Worried about him, Penny began to stand up, but subsided when another fit of coughing took her.

Pounding hoofbeats announced an arrival and Penny peered over her shoulder to see two teen boys race their horse up to the barn. Both boys, one redheaded and the other with a mess of black curls mashed under a soiled brown hat, hopped off the horse and ran toward the house.

“Poppy Walt, we saw the smoke!”

“Pa sent us to check on things.”

Pa? The boys were certainly too old to belong to Jonas, but he was the closest neighbor, wasn’t he? Could they belong to one of Jonas’s cowhands? Surely they were too young to be hands themselves. The redhead appeared to be thirteen at most, still in the gangly stage of youth. The other boy appeared a bit older, maybe sixteen.

“Are you hurt, Poppy Walt?”

“Should we git some water buckets?”

Their words tumbled over each other. To Penny’s surprise, Walt placed a hand on each of the boys’ shoulders.

“Now, Maxwell, Davy, everything’s all right.” He motioned toward Penny and both boys’ heads swiveled. “My granddaughter—”

The boy—Maxwell?—with curly, dark hair whipped his hat off and pressed it to his chest. The other one’s face turned as red as his hair—a trait Penny could sympathize with as her face had warmed as well. How humiliating to have witnesses to the disaster she’d caused.

“M-m-morning, m-miss,” the redheaded youth stammered.

“—had a little mishap while making breakfast,” Walt finished.

Penny’s cheeks heated further at his blatant understatement. She’d managed to set the pan of eggs and badly chopped potatoes on fire and then knocked it off the stove while trying to put it out—and caught a curtain and part of the wall on fire. Thank goodness her grandfather had come in looking for his
grub,
because she’d been failing as she tried to smother the growing fire with a tablecloth she’d found on a shelf.

Sam rounded the corner from the front of the house but stopped short when he saw the two boys standing with his grandfather, who waved him over.

“Boys, I’d like you to meet my grandson, Sam Castlerock, and my granddaughter, Penny.”

Both boys moved to shake Sam’s hand. Penny’s brother complied but didn’t say anything in greeting, only sized up the two newcomers with a frown and crossed his arms over his chest.

When the two teens turned to Penny they didn’t seem to know what to do. Still silent, the curly, dark-haired one stood with a flush climbing his tanned cheeks while the redhead stammered, “N-nice to m-meet ya.”

“This is Maxwell and Davy White.”

White? What was going on here? These
couldn’t
be Jonas’s sons. In addition to being too old to be his offspring, neither boy looked anything like Jonas!

“Y’all gonna be okay then?” Maxwell finally found his voice, speaking to Walt.

“Always are.” But Walt looked a little wistful as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his denims and stared at the house and the wisps of smoke still rising from the windows and doors.

“Reckon Pa would skin us alive if we didn’t bring ya back home for breakfast. You want me to saddle up a couple ponies for ya?”

Walt brightened immediately. “That’s a fine idea. A mighty fine idea.”

The two boys seemed to be familiar with Walt’s barn and corral; they hurried over and the horses came right up to them.

Sam grumbled, “I’d rather go back to bed.”

Penny turned a concerned glance on him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He shrugged, still frowning.

“Gotta eat if we’re gonna work today,” his grandfather said, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

Apparently
his
cheer was restored. That made one of them.

* * *

Jonas’s eyes kept straying to the north, to Walt’s place. Just like his thoughts, ever since Davy had seen the smoke coming from that direction this morning.

All right, if he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Penny Castlerock since last night.

She was different than he’d expected. She’d treated Breanna with care and her worry for Walt had been sincere. She was more genuine than he’d thought from seeing her at a distance back in Philadelphia.

But he wondered how she would fare at Walt’s place. He’d been there to check on his friend before starting on the trip to take Mrs. Clark to Calvin and meet with the bankers. Walt’s place wasn’t exactly falling down, but it might as well have been a soddy compared to the Castlerocks’ fine home back in Calvin. Penny had said she’d spent summers there, but Jonas just didn’t see how she would adjust. Her brother, either.

He tore his eyes from the grassy plains visible through the window and swung around from the stove to set the pan of scrambled eggs on the already groaning long table that took up much of the next room. Along with the eggs, there was a huge pile of biscuits, jams and jellies, most of a ham and the last of some dried apples he’d unearthed in the pantry.

It took a lot to feed his family. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wiping his hands on his shirt, already marked with grease and a swipe of flour, he moved to the kitchen door and stuck his head outside to issue an ear-splitting whistle, the equivalent of ringing a dinner triangle for his crew.

“Pa, we brought some guests for breakfast!” came a shout from the north.

Jonas stepped out onto the covered porch to see Max and Davy riding double toward the barn, just the way they’d left. Behind them came two more horses, Walt in the lead and Sam and Penny on the second animal.

Eight-year-old Seb appeared from the henhouse, clutching eggs in each hand. Seventeen-year-old Oscar and fourteen-year-old Edgar approached on horseback from the near field, where they’d been checking on some cows before the meal. And Matty and Ricky, both ten years of age, popped out of the barn at a flat-out run toward the house and their breakfast.

His boys. His sons.

“Miss Penny!” Breanna shrieked and ran out the door behind him, toward the approaching riders.

Penny said something to her brother, who halted the horse and let her slide down from its back. She knelt in time to sweep Breanna into a hug.

“Who’s that?” asked Ricky, joining Jonas on the porch, followed quickly by Matty and Seb.

“Yeah, she’s pretty,” Matty commented. Jonas agreed, though he kept silent.

“Look at her dress—fancy!” That from Seb.

Seb’s words brought Jonas’s gaze down to his grease-splattered shirt. Part of the collar had been ripped away, and the cuffs were worn and frayed. A glance around the excited boys on the porch revealed their clothes weren’t in much better shape—pants with holes in the knees, shirts worn thin. Would the proper Miss Castlerock comment on the state of their clothing? He hoped not.

Jonas straightened his shoulders; if she said anything derogatory, he’d defend his boys. It was his job to protect them.

But as Breanna towed Penny closer, Jonas caught sight of the gray soot marring her fancy dress and forgot about his worries. Her dress was marked up worse than any of their clothes, and her hair was coming loose from its pins, some of the auburn strands framing her lovely features. Soot-stained features.

“What happened to you?” Seb blurted.

Jonas’s face flamed. He clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “That’s not a kind thing to ask, Seb.”