Trey tapped the final nail into old Samson’s hoof, twisted off the sharp point, and clinched the end against the hoof wall. He filed down the rough spots then released the horse’s leg and straightened. Abby quietly held Samson’s lead rope, a big grin on her face. She’d begged to help him, and he knew his big draft horse would stand and take whatever they dished out with no fuss, so he let Abby assist him.
“Was I a good helper?”
“The best.” Holding back a grin, Trey put his farrier tools away in the tack room. For a city girl, she sure did like ranch chores.
“What’s next?”
He was having a hard time coming up with tasks that she could do and not get hurt. “It’s about time for the women to start supper, so you probably should wash up and go in and help.”
She ducked her head. “I’d rather be out here with you.”
A warm glow heated his chest. “I appreciate that, but I need to check on my men.” He should have been helping them move the cattle to the west pasture instead of piddling in the barn, but Abby had been so earnest in her desire to assist him that he couldn’t turn her away. “I like havin’ you here, but there are some things you’re too young to do.”
She crossed her arms. “Aw… shucks. I don’t like inside chores. I like helping with the animals.”
Trey wondered how the girl’s father would have handled the situation. He squatted on his boot heels. “There are chores that I don’t particularly like to do, too, but they have to get done.”
She looked at him with such innocence. “Like what?”
“Move the outhouse.”
She blinked several times and started giggling. “That is a dirty, stinky job, I reckon.”
Trey felt gut-punched. He’d never heard her use reckon before. Her mother sure didn’t. Had the girl picked that up from him?
Abby looked past him. “Somebody’s here.”
He stood and headed out of the barn, raising his hand to his neighbor, Harley Biggs, and one of his daughters riding behind him. He swiped at a trickle of sweat running down his temple. “Howdy, Harley. What brings you here?”
“Emily—my oldest daughter—baked y’all a pie. We heard you had company, and she wanted to be neighborly.” He passed the pie to Trey then flicked his thumb behind him. “Betsy, my youngest, heard there was a gal about her age stayin’ here and wanted to meet her.” At hearing her name, the dark-haired girl peeked around her father and grinned.
Abby took hold of Trey’s hand then waved. “I’m Abby. I’m six. How old are you?”
“Seven. Can I get down, Pa?”
Harley looked at Trey. “That okay with you?”
Trey nodded, feeling oddly out of sorts with the little girl hanging on to him. “Come on up to the porch, and we’ll sit while the girls get acquainted.”
Harley smiled and lowered his daughter halfway to the ground then released her. Like a cat, she landed on her feet and scurried over to her new friend. “Where do you hail from?”
“What?” Abby scrunched up her nose and glanced at Trey.
“She’s askin’ where you’re from.”
“Oh. Kansas City.”
“I’m a Texan, born and bred.” Betsy straightened as if proud of her heritage.
“Abby, do you think you could take this pie to your ma?”
“Yes, Mr. Trey.”
He handed it to her, and the two girls headed toward the house, chattering like magpies. Trey grinned. “After having a houseful of females for several days, I’ve realized what life must be like at your place.”
“Listening to all that chatter can be mighty tiresome. Sometimes my ears want a nap.”
Chuckling, Trey led Harley’s horse to the trough. After the horse drank, he looped the reins over the corral railing.
“You think we could talk in the barn instead of on the porch? Got something to say, and I don’t want no womenfolk listening in.”
Trey nodded, curious about his neighbor’s visit. Once inside the barn, Harley’s feet started shuffling—a sure sign he had something on his mind.
“If this is about my cattle on your land—”
“You know that doesn’t bother me.” He scratched his ear then rubbed the back of his neck. Harley stood a good six inches shorter than Trey and was probably five to ten years older, but he was still a well-conditioned man. Harley had always been a good neighbor. For the life of him, Trey couldn’t figure what was bothering him.
“I ain’t good with small talk, so I’ll just ask my question. Is that gal stayin’ here spoken for yet?”
Trey’s first thought was his ma. His fingers clenched, and then he remembered Sadie. “Oh… uh… nope. You’re the first to come askin’ about her.”
“You’re not keepin’ her for yourself? I noticed how that little gal latched on to you.”
“I think Abby has taken a shine to me, but that doesn’t mean I aim to marry her ma.”
“Glad to hear it.” Harley relaxed and smiled. His right eyetooth overlapped one of his front teeth a bit, but other than that, Trey figured a woman might find the tanned rancher good-looking. Still, for some reason, he didn’t think Harley and Sadie would make a good match. But it wasn’t up to him.
“You reckon y’all could come to supper Saturday evening?”
“Mrs. Hunter has two daughters, and my ma is here. You sure you want more females at your place?” Trey smiled to show he was teasing.
“I’d prefer a widow with sons or no children, but sometimes a man can’t be picky. Takin’ care of the house, laundry, and younger girls is keeping Emily from finishin’ school—and that was real important to her ma. Emily’s so far behind, I don’t know if she could ever catch up. Some men may not care that their daughters are educated, but I made a promise to my wife the day she died that I’d keep them in school.”
“I understand. We can come to supper, but let us bring something. Ma will insist. How about dessert? Would that be all right?”
Harley nodded. “Sounds fine.” He glanced toward the house. “You think I could meet ’er?”
Trey’s gut knotted. How many other men would want to make Sadie’s acquaintance? It wasn’t that he wanted her for himself, but it sure would interfere with his work if a regiment of men started passing through, all hoping to meet his pretty guest. “Uh… sure thing.”
He pushed his feet forward, surprised by his hesitance. He ought to be glad to introduce Mrs. Hunter to his friends. The sooner she met someone and received a proposal, the sooner she and her girls would be out of his hair.
Sadie added an herb mixture to the stew then glanced over to where Martha sat on the floor near the kitchen door, stacking some empty cans Ella had washed out. Abby and Betsy sat in the parlor, playing with Abby’s doll.
“You’d think those girls had known one another for years.” Ella smiled as she measured the flour for biscuits.
Sadie nodded and leaned closer. “Abby has missed her friends. Knowing she can make new ones here will make things easier for all of us.”
Trey walked through the open front door. Sadie turned back to the food and dumped the carrots into the broth. Why did he make her nervous? Was it because she and the girls had practically taken over his house? In all honesty, he didn’t seem to mind much. But every time he came near her, she found it hard to breathe.
“Time to be heading back, little bit.”
At the sound of a man’s voice she didn’t recognize, Sadie spun around. So this was Betsy’s father. Though shorter than Trey, he was a comely man with darkly tanned skin that looked nice with his light brown hair and hazel eyes. He glanced her way and smiled. Apprehension wove its way down her spine like an insect on a vine. Had the suitors started coming? But this man had a daughter, so maybe he also had a wife. She glanced at Trey, a bit surprised by his less than cordial expression. What had upset him?
“Aw, Pa. Do we have to go already?” Betsy cried.
“Yes. I have chores waitin’.” The man removed his hat and looked at Ella. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Carpenter. You remember me?”
Ella nodded. “Mr. Biggs?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How are your daughters? There are four of them, correct?”
He nodded. “Growin’ like wildflowers after a spring rain.” His gaze shifted to Sadie and clung there. “Harley Biggs, ma’am. Welcome to our part of Texas.”
Sadie swallowed the lump building in her throat. Ella hadn’t inquired about the man’s wife. Did that mean he didn’t have one? “Um… a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Biggs.”
Trey cleared his throat. “Harley has invited us for supper at his place on Saturday.”
Ella’s eyes lit up. “How nice. What can we bring?”
Trey lifted one hand. “Already worked that out. We’re bringing the dessert.”
“That’s fine. We’ll have to figure up something special to make.”
“Anything except apple pie would be welcome. It seems that’s the only dessert my Emily knows how to make.” The man’s neck grew red, and he flicked a glance toward his daughter. “Not that I’m complainin’, but it would be nice to have somethin’ different.”
Ella stepped forward. “Not to worry, Mr. Biggs. Your secret is safe with us.”
“Thank you, ma’am. We’ll look forward to seein’ you around five, then.”
Ella smiled. “We appreciate the invitation.”
Mr. Biggs gently tugged on one of his daughter’s braids. “Time to go, little bit.” His gaze sought Sadie’s again. “Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Hunter.”
As soon as the men and Abby and Betsy had left the room, Ella shoved her hands to her hips and grinned widely. “Looks like word has gotten around the area that there’s a pretty widow in town.”
“Ha-ha.” She busied herself by stirring the stew again. “Isn’t Mr. Biggs married?”
“His wife died several years ago, leaving him to care for four daughters. I’m guessing he came over here to inspect you.” She chuckled and went back to her biscuit dough. “Just imagine. If you and Harley married, you’d have a half-dozen daughters.”
Sadie stared at the simmering stew. She’d heard there were seven men to every woman in Texas. What if men started coming to see her? Would Trey be upset to have so much company? And how would she get to know a man well enough to know if she wanted to marry him or not? But then, she really couldn’t afford to be too picky. She couldn’t live with Ella much longer. She would have to make a quick decision, for the girls’ sake. Her eyes stung at the thought of a loveless marriage. Her first one hadn’t been what she hoped for, and now it seemed like the second one might not either.