Falling for the Rancher Father. Linda Ford
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“Oh, please, Papa. Please.” Allie clasped her hands in a beseeching gesture and rounded her blue eyes.
Mercy hid a grin. Anyone who could deny such a plea would have to have a heart of stone.
“It’s an excellent idea, don’t you think, Papa?” Ladd added reasonableness to the request.
Mercy chewed her lip to keep from revealing her amusement.
Abel had his back to her, considering his children. Slowly he turned and faced her. His mouth drew back in a frown. Lines gouged his cheeks.
Even before he spoke, she knew he’d refuse.
Then Ladd tugged at his arm and Abel turned back to the children.
“Papa, you know you don’t have many days before winter.”
“You’re right, but still—” His shoulders rose and fell. He caught Allie’s chin. “Baby, you have to promise to take it easy.”
“I will, Papa.”
He placed his hand on Ladd’s head. “Sunshine, you have to promise to watch your sister.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And no Wild West stuff.”
Mercy coughed. “Shouldn’t you be giving me the instructions?”
He faced her, rather reluctantly, she figured. “I will accept your offer but only because I’m desperate. It’s late in the season to be starting out and I must make up for lost time.”
“My,” she said, sighing as she pressed a palm to her chest, “your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”
Allie giggled, then seemed to think better of it and smothered it with her hand.
Abel’s eyes narrowed. They were the same dark blue as his son’s, Mercy noted. And he had the same unruly dark blond hair half controlled by his hat. “You can put your horse in the pen.” He nodded in the general direction. “And thank you for offering to watch the children.”
His thanks was so begrudging that she laughed as she reined about and took care of Nugget.
He was in his saddle when she sauntered back to the cabin. “The children know where everything is. If you need anything, ask them.” But he made no motion toward leaving.
She favored him with the most innocent, sweet look she could manage when inside she bounced back and forth between amusement and annoyance. “We’ll do just fine. Don’t worry.” She knew full well that every minute he was gone he would worry she might do something foolish. Some rebellious portion of herself that she’d never tamed urged her to add, “I’ll try not to do anything foolish.”
At the look on his face, she laughed.
Ladd and Allie stood in the doorway. “We’ll be good, Papa. Truly we will.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” He rode away.
Mercy didn’t wait for him to disappear from sight before she shepherded the twins inside and closed the door. “It’s getting colder by the minute,” she said by way of explanation for her hurry. She’d never been in the cabin before. Hadn’t been the least bit interested in it. Now she glanced around taking in every detail. Which didn’t take more than a minute. The cabin was smaller than Jayne and Seth’s. Only one tiny room. The small cookstove would more than heat the place on most days. She expected by the time the fire was hot enough to boil water the room would be hot enough to make a grown man drip with sweat. Only one tiny window allowed in light. The few shelves lining the wall overflowed with books, clothing, hardware. One corner of the ceiling had a definite sway to it. She recalled noticing damage to the roof outside. Abel had real cause for hurry if he meant to give these children a warm, safe place for the winter and she knew he did.
“What would you like to do?” she asked the pair.
“I’m not supposed to do anything,” Allie said, a little tremor in her voice.
“Your father said you were to take it easy. There are still lots of things you can do.”
“Like what?” Both children leaned forward, eagerness in every muscle.
She looked about. “Lots of things.” And she’d dream them up in the next few minutes.
She’d prove to Mr. Abel Borgard that she could be trusted not to act foolishly. Not that she ever did. No matter what his opinion of her activities.
Chapter Three
Abel considered the work he’d accomplished. Trees selected for the cabin and cut down. Some firewood gathered. Despite the crisp air, he worked with his shirtsleeves rolled up, sweat trickling down his back. Today held more urgency than just the approaching winter. Mercy was back at the cabin with his children and his nerves tingled at the idea. He’d only seen the woman twice and both times her behavior had given his heart a fit. Would he get home to find the children swinging from the rafters or jumping off the bed?
He swung his ax with renewed vigor. The best thing he could do was get as much work done in as little time as possible.
A few minutes later he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. That’s when his neck muscles twitched. Something or someone watched him. He could feel it. He jerked about. A dark shadow ducked into the bushes. But not before he’d seen enough to know it was not an animal but a squat man with a dark beard down to his chest.
His heart did a persistent two-step inside his chest, making it hard to get a decent breath.
He pretended to study a tree as if considering how best to chop it down, hoping he’d see the man again. He didn’t much care for someone to be spying on him, but at least if Abel could see him he’d know the children were safe. Maybe he should forget getting logs and head back.
He warred between the urgency of his task and the need to assure himself of the children’s safety.
One simple fact persuaded him to return to swinging his ax.
Mercy had a gun—he’d seen the bulge in her jacket as she returned to the cabin after penning her horse. He had no doubt she knew how to use it. Nor did he think she would hesitate to do so if the need arose. She’d probably jump at the chance.
He chuckled softly as he realized her foolish behavior provided him with a bit of comfort at the moment.
Twice more he glimpsed the dark shadow of the man. What kind of person spied on another? But after a bit he stopped worrying about the mysterious man, who did nothing to make Abel feel threatened. And as long as he was content to watch Abel, those back at the cabin were safe.
He worked steadily into the afternoon, pausing briefly only to drink from his canteen, chow down a sandwich or wipe his brow. As the shadows lengthened, he headed back to the cabin. He’d seen no sign of the intruder for the past hour and hoped the man had left the vicinity. But he wouldn’t be completely at ease until he reached the cabin and saw the twins for himself.
He tended Sam first, knowing he would not want to return to the job once he entered the cabin. He put the saddle and blanket in the little shed that offered a modicum of protection, then crossed the yard, threw open the door and ducked inside.
The aroma that greeted him filled his mouth with saliva. How pleasant to come home to a hot meal after a hard day of work. He’d always hoped Ruby would change, would someday decide she liked being married, liked being a mother, liked tending the home. It had never happened and now it was too late for dreams. He would never again risk his children’s happiness for the hope of a happy home, and certainly not for the sake of a hot meal. Though it would be pleasant to have something besides beans and bannock for a change.
“The place is getting cold,” Mercy said, reminding him he stood in the open doorway.
He closed the door and swung the children off their feet in a big hug. He studied each face. No guilt on either. No heightened color in Allie’s cheeks. That was good. And no one