The Cowboy Comes Home. Linda Ford
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two years ago and ever since, Grandmama had been begging Linc to come back and help her.
He might never have come, except for the way things had worked out.
He settled back in the saddle and thought of the afternoon. Little Robbie had ventured into the corral, unaware Linc watched. The little boy wore nice clothes but an unhappy expression. He wondered what brought such a look to a child’s face until Sally said the boy’s mother had died. Linc understood how that felt. His own mother had died when he was but fifteen. Much older than Robbie, but still too young to be motherless. Mothers kept the family together, provided a moral compass. Without a mother … well, his family had certainly gone downhill. Not that he intended to dwell on it or try to find someone or something to pin the blame on.
His mood shifted and he grinned as he thought of Sally. He didn’t remember her from before, so the Morgans must have moved in after they left when he was sixteen. Otherwise he would have certainly remembered her. Even then he liked a good-looking woman. And Sally was certainly that, with wavy brown hair falling to her shoulders, capturing the sun’s rays like miser’s gold in each wave. Eyes the color of olive-green water, like he’d seen in the mountains to the west. Eyes that widened in surprise at seeing him, narrowed with caution before taking his hand. He rubbed his hand against the warm denim on his leg. He had only meant to be helpful, but her cool flesh against his had felt like a hot iron, searing her brand on his palm. He pressed his fist to his chest, feeling marked inside as well and ignored the urge to thump himself on the forehead at such silly ideas. He dropped his hand back to his leg.
Obviously a proper young woman.
Even if she didn’t know the McCoy reputation, she would soon enough hear it. Not that it mattered what people said. He’d tried to tell his pa and older brother so six years ago. Stay and prove the rumors false, he’d said. But he was only sixteen and they weren’t about to listen to him.
Now he was back and determined to do what he’d wanted back then—prove the McCoys were not sticky-fingered scoundrels.
And of course, care for his injured father.
Time to get back to the task.
Despite the duties calling him, he took his time unsaddling Red, then spent a leisurely thirty minutes grooming him and tidying up the barn before he headed for the house. He paused inside the door and breathed in the homey scents of yeasty bread and cinnamon. No matter where he’d gone in the past six years, he’d missed this place.
Grandmama sat in her favorite spot—a rocking chair by the window—doing needlework. “I ‘spect you’re missing your freedom.”
He understood what she didn’t say. That she feared he would leave again as soon as Pa—
Memories of a pretty face flashed through his brain. Even if he had planned to leave, getting to know Miss Sally better was enough to make him reconsider. “I never wanted to go in the first place.”
Grandmama glanced up then. “You should have stayed. You could stay now and run this place.”
He wondered if anyone else would hope he’d remain. “I had to go with Pa and Harris.” Though he couldn’t exactly say why. Guess the same loyalty that brought him back with Pa. “How is he?”
“Haven’t heard from him.”
Which meant he was sleeping. The painkiller the doctor provided was doing its job. Once it wore off, Pa would start hollering and cussing. Poor Grandmama—having to listen to Pa in one of his rages. Yet when Linc showed up on the doorstep dragging his injured father, she had calmly opened the door and welcomed them. And she’d cried when Linc said Harris had died in the mining accident that injured Pa.
“He was my oldest grandson. Despite his rebellious ways I have never stopped loving him and praying for him.” She’d hugged Linc long and hard. “Are you still walking in your faith?” she asked when her tears were spent.
He’d had his struggles, his ups and downs and times of doubt, but he was happy to be able to give her the answer she longed for. “I hold fast to my faith and God’s love.”
“I don’t suppose Harris or your Pa ever made that choice?”
“Not Pa. I don’t know about Harris. You know how he always tried so hard to please Pa.” Even if Harris believed in God, he might well hide it from Pa so as to not incur his displeasure.
“Then this is why God sent you home. To allow Jonah another chance to change his ways. My Mary would want her husband to become a Christian.”
Linc permitted himself a moment of aching emptiness at the mention of his mother’s name, then pulled his thoughts back to the present. “I’ll check on him.” He strode to the bedroom off the front room where Grandmama had made up a bed for Pa. Pa murmured in his sleep. Doc said the drugs made him restless, but for the moment he seemed comfortable. The bruises on his face had faded to yellow and the swelling had subsided. His leg was bound and splinted. Doc changed the dressings on it every day. But it was the injuries to his chest that had done the most damage. Doc said he couldn’t tell how badly Pa’s internal organs had been damaged. His chances were slim, Doc had been honest enough to say. “About all we can do is keep him comfortable.”
Which meant giving him pain medication.
Linc shook the bottle of medicine. It was almost empty. As were his pockets. It had taken a whack out of his savings to bury Harris and the rest to get himself, Red and his father home. He’d have to find himself some sort of work in order to keep the bottle full.
Satisfied his Pa didn’t need anything for the moment, he returned to the kitchen and sat at the table, turning his chair to face Grandmama.
“I met a young lady today. Sally Morgan. Do you know her?”
Grandmama carefully put away the yarn and folded the piece of fabric she worked on before setting it on the little table beside her chair. “I know the Morgans. Mr. Morgan died a few years back. The two older girls have married recently. Louisa, the eldest, married a widower with a little girl. They adopted one of the orphan girls before they headed west where he has a ranch. Madge and her husband now own the Cotton farm. They’re a hard-working young couple.”
“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t so interested in the family as in Sally.
“Miss Sally is working for our neighbor, Abe Finley.”
He knew that, too.
“He’s a widower with two young children.”
“I met Robbie. He came to visit me and my horse.”
“Young Robbie has been a bit of a …” She hesitated. “A concern since his mother died.”
Linc smiled. “You couldn’t come right out and say he’s a defiant child?” He’d seen the way he’d glowered at Sally when she said he had to go home.
Grandmama sniffed. “I don’t believe in speaking ill of others.”
“Too bad others don’t share your view.” If they did, Linc and his father and brother wouldn’t have felt they had to leave town six years ago. And maybe Harris would still be alive. He missed his brother. A blast of sorrow hit Linc and he looked out the window, waiting for it to pass.
He saw the corrals out the window and remembered he was asking about Sally. “So what do you know about Miss Sally?”
Grandmama gave him her best warning expression. “Everyone expects she and Abe will decide to marry. So you stay away from her, you hear?”
“This understanding that everyone has, is it official?”
Grandmama’s eyes narrowed. “There’s been no announcement, if that’s what you mean. But you listen to me, Lincoln McCoy—”
Uh-oh. When she used his full name, he knew she was deadly serious.
“Abe Finley is a fine match for Sally. Don’t you go interfering with it.”
And