Chapter Five

      As Adam followed Ira and Jack around the cabin, he studied the older man, trying to sort through the jumble of contradictory impressions he presented.

      Though nearly bald and sporting a chin full of gray whiskers, the housekeeper’s husband was as spry as a schoolboy. His leathery skin and crow’s feet were offset by eyes that shone as blue and clear as a newborn’s.

      Slightly built and a head shorter than Adam, he had a puckish quality about him. Maybe it had something to do with that glint of a gold tooth Adam had spotted earlier, or with the abundance of laugh lines bracketing his mouth.

      A flash of color distracted Adam from his musings.

      What in the world...

      He stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the exotic contraption perched beside the small feed crib.

      It was a wagon, he finally decided. But he’d never seen its like outside of a circus parade. To call it gaudy was doing it a kindness.

      From this angle, only the back and part of one side was visible, but it was enough. More than enough. Not only was the caravan-style conveyance painted in garish shades of green, maroon and gold, but it was constructed in an overblown design, complete with exuberant scrollwork and elaborately carved panels.

      “What kind of rig is that?”

      Adam tore his gaze away from the flamboyant sight long enough to glance at Mitchell over his shoulder. The man wore a bemused, dumbfounded expression. Adam realized his own was probably similar.

      “Looks like a circus wagon,” he said, stroking Trib’s nose. “Though what it’s doing out here—”

      Ira, dusting his hands after sliding the fishing poles up under the eaves of the crib, grinned. “I see you spied Reggie’s photography wagon. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”

      Photography wagon? Adam led Trib forward with a click of his tongue. “Did she inherit it from her father?”

      The balding leprechaun cackled. “You didn’t know Reggie’s daddy, did you? Warren Nash would never have been caught driving such a fanciful contraption as this. Plain and simple was more his style.”

      Ira Peavy patted the wagon as if it were an old friend. “No, Reggie designed this herself after one of them traveling circuses passed through here.”

      She’d actually intended it to look like this? Miss Nash was either as bereft of taste as she was of singing ability, or she had a wicked sense of humor.

      “It’s the fanciest wagon in all of Turnabout,” Jack announced proudly. “Everyone stops to stare when we pass by.”

      “That I’ll believe,” Mitchell muttered.

      “So, your aunt’s a photographer, is she?” Adam asked Jack.

      “Yes, sir. Photographs people mostly. But she does plants and animals, too. Some of ’em turn out real pretty.” He gave Adam a big smile. “I’ll bet she’d be glad to take a picture of you and your friends if you wanted.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind,” Adam responded noncommittally. He knew her father had been a photographer, and Judge Madison had mentioned something about her following in her father’s footsteps. But Adam had assumed it was a slightly eccentric pastime of hers, something she toyed with when she was bored, the way other women did with watercolors or the piano.

      But if she’d gone to the trouble of designing her own wagon...

      “You’ll find feed for the horses over here,” Ira said, interrupting Adam’s thoughts. “You can water them down by the lake and there’s lots of good grazing there as well. I’m afraid the lean-to is only big enough for our two horses, so you’ll have to tether yours under the trees tonight. Weather’s fair, though, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

      Mitchell set to work unhitching the horse from the buggy. “We appreciate your hospitality,” he said over his shoulder.

      Before Adam could unsaddle Trib, he found Jack at his elbow. “Mighty fine-looking horse you got there, mister.”

      The youngster’s words might mimic something he’d heard an adult say, but the look on his face was pure wide-eyed, little-boy awe.

      “Thanks.” Adam offered Jack a friendly smile. Winning the boy’s trust was important right now. It might make things easier on both of them later on if this marriage scheme fell apart. “Maybe I’ll let you ride him sometime before I head back to Philadelphia,” he added.

      Jack’s face split in a wide grin. “Jiminy! Did you hear that, Ira? Dewey Jenkins is gonna be toad-green jealous when he sees me riding this horse.”

      “I heard,” Ira answered. “But don’t forget you’ve got to get your Aunt Reggie to agree first.”

      Adam frowned, studying Ira’s expression. Had he said that because Miss Nash was overly cautious where her nephew was concerned? Or had the older man picked up on the fact that she distrusted Adam and wouldn’t think highly of any plan he put forward that involved Jack?

      Jack, however, seemed unworried. “Aw, Aunt Reggie won’t mind. She was talking the other day about how I was the man of the family now and all.”

      Ira squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll see.” Then he gave the boy a mild swat on the seat of his pants. “Now off with you and fetch that kindling like your aunt asked. Don’t want to be holding up supper.”

      With a nod and a wave, Jack headed for the wood stacked near the cabin’s back door.

      Ira