30

The warm salt bath felt soothing to Grace’s foot as she soaked it in a small wash pan—so much so that she almost decided to soak her other foot. She thought back to the conversation she’d had earlier with her father and Stella. If Grace was suspicious of Stella before, all doubt was swept away when Stella shared that she’d been researching her pop’s illness. The tone of Stella’s voice and the affection she had for Owen was real, and this impressed Grace.

“Grace, I remember seeing a poster about hot springs near Helena last time I was in town,” Owen said as he steadied himself and eased into a side chair. “Maybe I need to go and see if those hot springs would help me. I’ve heard they’re good for rheumatism.”

“I say there’s no harm in trying, Pop. Why don’t we ask Dr. Avery what he thinks?”

“I will. I’ve been praying about my health to the Man Upstairs.” Owen’s tone became serious. “It may not be a cure, but maybe God’s pointing me in the right direction for help.”

“I hope so. God sometimes answers in ways that surprise us, doesn’t He?” She dared not tell him that she’d overheard him praying privately, but she had been praying too.

“By the way,” he said, “your foot is not nearly as swollen, but the bruise sure is turning blue.”

She looked closely at her foot as she took it out of the water to gently pat it dry with a towel. “I think you’re right.”

“It’ll be healed in time for you to go to the Bozeman Ball.” He grinned.

Grace giggled. “You forget that I just sent the man who was courting me packing.”

“True, but there’s Robert.” Owen gave her a level gaze.

“I don’t think he’s interested in me or going to any ball. He keeps to himself and seems to like it that way.” She slipped on her sock and shoe.

“You don’t know that,” he countered.

Grace shrugged, and picked up the pan of water to dump outside. “I think you’re dreaming.”

“You can’t tell me you aren’t attracted to him. He’s a good man.” He continued talking as she went into the backyard to throw out the water.

When she returned, she saw Ginny arriving in her carriage. “Ginny, dear. How are you?” Grace hurried to open the door for her friend. “You look much better than when I saw you on Sunday.”

Ginny smiled. “Oh, I am to be sure, especially by each afternoon. I heard about Sarah and your foot from Robert, but I needed to see for myself how everything was.”

“I’m doing much better. I just soaked my foot in bath salts that Robert got for me. Sarah has a little cold but seems better today. But tell me, how are you feeling overall?”

“Robert bought some bath salts. How thoughtful.” Ginny shot her an endearing look, then continued. “Some foods don’t always agree with me, or the very thought of them makes me queasy. For instance, coffee. I can’t bear to drink it now.”

“I poured her a cup and she turned a pale shade of green.” Owen laughed, and Ginny giggled.

“Let me fix you some hot tea then.” Grace moved to the stove.

“That would be nice. Becky mentioned something about Warren. What happened?”

Grace and Owen told her about the fiasco with the cat.

Once Ginny stopped laughing she said, “I’m sorry. It sounded so funny when you told it, but I think you did the right thing, Grace. This is very concerning about Warren’s attitude. Do you mind if I tell Frank about this?” Ginny said, then took a sip of her tea.

“Not at all. There’s something about Warren that I can’t put my finger on. He wants me to be focused totally on him and no one else.”

“I agree, that’s odd.”

Owen pushed his chair back. “I’ll leave you two to chat—”

“Wait, Pop. Before you leave, tell Ginny what Stella told us today about your health.”

“I don’t want to bore her with my health,” Owen replied.

“You won’t be boring me. You know I consider you like a second father. Please, tell me. Have you received some bad news?”

“Maybe. Dr. Avery hasn’t been sure I had a stroke, and now we might have an idea what is wrong with me.”

“Then I want to hear about it, Owen,” Ginny said.

Owen explained what Stella had told him, summarizing the details as best he could. “I don’t think it’ll kill me, but it will impact my life.”

Ginny shook her head sadly, then looked at him and Grace. “But at least you may be closer to knowing what to do about it, right?”

“That’s just it. It’s rare and not a lot of research has been done. We’re going to town tomorrow to talk with Dr. Avery. He’s busy today because Matilda is in labor.”

“Then please, let me know what you discover,” Ginny said.

“Perhaps I can come by and help you with the nursery too.”

“Not yet, the fabric hasn’t been delivered last I checked. I need it to pick a paint color.” Pushing back her chair, Ginny set her teacup down and rose from her chair. “Thanks for the cup of tea. I’m glad I came to check on you and you as well, Owen. You know you’re like family to me.” She reached over to hug Owen and Grace noticed tears in his eyes—which was the case more often than not anymore with him.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Grace offered, standing up.

“Uh, you mean you’ll hobble. Don’t trouble yourself. I can let myself out.” Ginny squeezed her hand. “Please take care of that foot so you’ll be fit as a fiddle to go to the ball.”

“Ginny. I haven’t said I was going. You know I haven’t a dress to wear to a ball.” Grace expelled a deep breath.

“We’ll see about that when you’re in town.” Ginny glanced at her watch dangling from a gold chain. “Oh, goodness. Look at the time. I must get home before Frank or he’ll be worried about me. Toodle-oo.” She gave a tiny wave, then left.

As Ginny left, Becky burst into the kitchen with Sarah trailing a little slower behind her. “I’m hungry. Can we start supper now?” Becky inquired.

Grace motioned for Sarah to come close. She wanted to test her forehead for fever.

Sarah leaned against her. “I’m tired.”

“Does she have a fever?” Owen watched as Grace felt her face and arms.

“I believe she may, Pop. Sarah, why don’t you go back to your room, and we’ll bring you supper in bed?”

“I’m not hungry,” she answered with glazy eyes.

“Then, I’ll make you some chamomile tea and bring you some crackers.”

“Okay. Can Becky come with me?”

Grace nodded. “Yes. That’s a good idea.”

“But I was going to help you so you won’t be on your foot,” Becky reminded her.

“Not to worry. It’s feeling so much better. Get Sarah into bed and then come help me.”

Owen piped up. “No, you sit still. I can still walk, you know—just not fast. Why don’t we see what’s left over from the dinner Stella brought?”

“Thanks, Pop. That will be fine, if we have enough.”

He winked at Becky. “It’ll be plenty, especially when I whip up a pan of biscuits.”

Spring quickly turned into summer and Grace’s flowers were blooming, but more importantly, the potatoes showed signs of a good crop when she’d walked through the field yesterday. They’d do well at harvesttime—thanks in part to Robert’s help and Tom’s. She was so glad that Ginny had told Robert about her need, especially since that brought the children and Robert into her life, which was richer than it had ever been.

She was up early and stood kneading dough for bread by the kitchen window—which offered a pleasant morning view—thinking over the last several months. Tomorrow, at Dr. Avery’s urging, she would take her father to the hot springs to help him manage his ailment. She hoped it would help. Even if it didn’t, Stella had energized him better than any medicine could.

Her foot had healed and Sarah was back to her happy self, full of smiles and giggles, although Robert still lived in town with the children. Many times they would ride to the farm when Robert came and help with baking or laundry. Neither of the girls liked pulling weeds, so she enlisted Tom and got to know him better. She found him to be smart and eager to please. His sullen looks were replaced with an ever-warming smile and inquisitiveness to learn everything he could. Somehow, Stella had gotten him interested in the medical field, and he told her he was determined to be a doctor.

She punched down the dough, then patted it into two loaves. She could feel totally peaceful . . . if . . . If her father was better . . . If she was able to get a good price at the market for the harvest . . . If she had a nice dress for the Bozeman Ball . . .

She admonished herself. Too many ifs. Why am I so ungrateful when I have so many blessings in my life? An unexpected tear fell down her cheek. She knew why. She was in love with Robert and his children, but what could she do about it?

Grace set the dough aside, covering the loaves with a muslin cloth, then stepped outside. Smiling, she watched as Bluebelle came waddling up to the porch. She bent down and lifted the duck to her arms. “You silly duck. What would I do without your companionship? I’m hoping to have a companion for you soon. No one should be all alone without someone to love.” Bluebelle pecked her on the face and she laughed.

“Does that apply to you as well as Bluebelle?” Grinning, Robert strode into the yard and stood watching her and the duck. “I see you talk to your duck quite a bit.” He chuckled.

Grace turned around. She hadn’t realized he’d arrived. “I talk to Bluebelle because she doesn’t talk back,” she quipped.

———

Robert couldn’t resist teasing her. “That’s the way it is with most women, they want to do all the talking.”

“I beg your pardon?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “If we didn’t have to read minds, I think conversation would be a whole lot different.” She put Bluebelle on the ground and watched her waddle off with a quack.

“I’ve always answered you.”

“Yes, usually with one-word answers.”

He gazed down at her and she looked at him, her hands on her hips and chin lifted with a fake defiant look that he’d come to know. All he could think about was the kiss he’d stolen and the softness of her lips beneath his. “I’ll try to do better.”

“That would be a nice change indeed.”

“I try to please.”

“Then maybe you could start today.”

“All right . . . about that kiss—”

“I know. It was a mistake.” She lifted her skirts to leave, but Robert touched her arm and she paused, lifting her gaze to look at him through warm honey-colored eyes that went straight to his heart.

“No, it was not a mistake. What I wanted to say was I’m not sorry that I stole that kiss.”

Grace blinked. “It’s much too early to be talking about such things.”

“I thought you wanted me to talk more.”

“I—I do, but—” Her eyes flittered away.

“But what? Are you still seeing Warren? Owen told me what happened after me and Tom left that day.”

“I haven’t seen him since that day, and I don’t intend to.”

“Well, then. Maybe you’d like to take a turn down the lane on a proper courting ride.” He waited, stiff shouldered.

“Well . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t let me twist your arm. Either you do or you don’t.”

Grace stood gazing back with a blank look. Apparently, he’d gotten the wrong impression that she might actually like him in that way. “Forget it. I’ve got work to do.” He twisted on his boot and strode in the direction of the barn.

“Where are the children?” she asked.

“They’re not coming today,” he tossed over his shoulder. He couldn’t get away fast enough. How stupid of him. Why did he think she’d share his feelings? He had absolutely nothing to offer her. When had he decided he was looking for another woman in his life? He felt foolish. He’d hurry through his chores and get back to the mercantile. There was plenty of work to do there that would take his mind off her and get his focus back on the children that he’d promised to care for. Permanently.