The Cowboy Comes Home. Linda Ford
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Father, and yet she wished Abe would at least read a chapter from the Bible and pray with the children before he left for the day.
At first, she’d debated with herself as to whether she should take on the responsibility. The deciding factor had been that she should begin as she expected to go on, and if she were to become a permanent part of this home, Bible reading and prayer were what she wanted.
But rather than read from the family Bible, she brought a series of Bible stories on cards with pictures on one side and text on the other that she’d collected in her Sunday school days. She chose the next in the stack to read.
Carol listened intently. Robbie fidgeted, wanting to leave but knowing Sally would insist he stay. They’d fought that battle the first day and Sally had won, knowing she must.
She made her prayer short, asking for the children and their father to be safe. In her heart, she prayed she could live up to expectations and not let foolish thoughts distract her. And why the thought shaped into a grinning man in a cowboy hat, she wouldn’t let herself consider.
Carol departed a short time later then Sally turned to Robbie. “Play out back where I can see you.”
She washed dishes and put together soup for dinner when both Abe and Carol would come home. Every few minutes she glanced out the window to check on Robbie. He’d dug a hole in the end of the garden and used the dirt to construct a barrier, no doubt hoping to build a place where he could hide from his troublesome world.
Sally grinned. After Father died she’d done the same, only she’d had the loft of the barn where she used loose hay to encircle a little patch where she took her books and an old school notebook, in which she wrote copious amounts of purple prose full of emotionally charged words like hopelessness, emptiness and loneliness. She had felt safe and secure in that little place.
Forbidden, her gaze sought the area across the alley. Quickly, telling herself she was only allowing her eyes a chance to look into the distance, she glanced to the corrals, past them to the bit of yard within her view. Maybe he had left again. No reason such a thought should make her sad. She snorted as several of the words she’d used in her loft hiding place resurrected.
The soup simmered on the stove. She mixed up baking powder biscuits to go with it.
Another glance out the window showed the Shaw yard still empty and Robbie struggling to build his dirt walls higher. The soil was so dry it sifted into a slack pile.
Remembering her own efforts to create a safe place, she ached for the little boy. Hoping he wouldn’t be angry at her interruption, she hurried outside. “I can show you how to build higher walls if you like.”
He didn’t move for a full three seconds.
She knew he warred with a desire to dismiss her and frustration over dealing with the piles of dirt.
“How?” He made certain to sound as if he was doing her a favor.
“I saw some scraps of lumber in the shed. I think you could use them to provide support. Come. I’ll show you.”
He followed her to the shed and allowed her to fill his arms with bits of lumber.
Back in the garden, she drove the thinner pieces into the ground as uprights and showed him how to place the wider pieces against them and hold them in place with the dirt. As they worked, she told him about the place she’d made in the loft.
She heard a horse trot down the alley and kept her gaze averted to the count of five before she glanced up. Linc on Big Red rode toward the center of town.
He nodded at them, grinning. “Playing in the dirt, I see.”
She tossed her hair out of her eyes. “We’re building.”
“What are you building?”
“I’m not sure. Robbie, what are we building?”
“A fort.” He didn’t pause from scooping dirt against the walls.
Linc looked from Robbie to Sally, paused a moment then returned to Robbie. “What sort of fort?”
“To keep out the bad guys.”
For a moment Linc didn’t move, didn’t say anything and his grin seemed narrower. “Guess we all need a safe place.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Perhaps I’ll see you later.”
Sally waited until he rode out of sight then pushed to her feet. “I have to check on dinner. Call me if you need any help.”
Robbie kept shoveling dirt.
We all need a safe place. Exactly her sentiments. She paused outside the door and studied the house. A good solid house. A safe place? She glanced over her shoulder. Safer than a man on horseback who dropped in from who-knows-where and would likely drop back out as quickly and silently.
She hurried indoors and put the biscuits in the oven to bake.
The meal was ready when Abe stepped into the house. The table was set neatly. She’d put the soup in a pretty tureen in the middle of the table and arranged the biscuits on a nice platter. She’d even found a glass dish for the butter.
Robbie had come in without arguing. He’d dusted his clothes and washed his face and hands. Hardly any evidence remained of his morning spent playing in the dirt.
Sally was satisfied the meal looked as good as it smelled. Everything was done to perfection. As she’d taken care of the many details of creating this meal, she’d taken care of one other thing—sorting out her thoughts. She needed a safe place and this was it. Nothing could be allowed to take that away from her. Especially not a man on a horse.
They all took their places and without any warning, Abe bowed and said grace.
It still startled Sally the way he did it. Father had always said, “Let us pray.” And waited for them all to fold their hands and bow their heads.
Abe did things differently. Nothing wrong with that.
He ate in silence for a few minutes, then, as he broke open another biscuit and drenched it in butter and jam, he said, “I hired a man to work on the barn. I want it converted to a proper garage. The yard could do with some cleaning up, too, so I gave him instructions to fix the fence out back, prune the apple trees and generally take care of the chores.”
“I see.” Abe was one of a handful of people who could afford to pay someone to do repair work for them.
“I don’t have time to show him around so perhaps you would do so. Give him access to the tools in the shed. Make him feel welcome. Perhaps offer him coffee in the middle of the afternoon. That sort of thing.”
“Will he be taking meals with us?”
“I shouldn’t think so. He lives close by.”
She quickly did a mental inventory on the neighbors, wondering which one had been so favored by Abe.
“I think he’s down on his luck. As a Christian man I feel it my duty to give him a helping hand.”
That tidbit didn’t help her. Most of the families in town were having trouble making ends meet.
He pushed back and reached for his hat. “He said he’d come over after lunch. It would please me if you helped him in any way you can.”
Sally waited, expecting a name, but Abe headed for the door. “Wait. You didn’t say who was coming.”
“Oh, didn’t I? Sorry. It’s Linc McCoy. He’s staying at his grandmother’s just next door.” He pointed toward the farm.
Sally’s heart quivered. Linc was coming here to work? Abe expected her to help him? The man did strange things to her equilibrium. Things she didn’t like or welcome.
Abe must have read her hesitation. “There have been cruel rumors about him in the past. This morning I saw Linc in the store asking after a job and overheard some not-so-kind-hearted women saying