From the moment she’d watched Roper ride away, the wagon rumbling over the rutted trail, Cassie had been apprehensive. She was alone. Unless she counted the children, Macpherson, the smithy down the road and the riders who had come to town shortly after Roper left. No, she wasn’t alone. Nor was she lonely.
And Roper had promised to return. The words came from a forbidden corner of her brain.
What difference did it make if he did or not? She could manage quite well by herself. But his words of promise embedded in her mind like warm sweets.
Even her busy hands did not keep her from wondering when Roper would be back. Only, she silently insisted, so she could hear news of Linette and the others at the ranch.
She marched outside for wood, and had her arms full when something tickled her skin. “What’s on my arm?” she asked Daisy who hovered nearby.
Daisy squealed and backed away. “A—A—” She couldn’t speak but her eyes spoke volumes. Mostly stark fear.
Her near panic was contagious, and Cassie dropped the load and backed away, watching as a snake writhed out from the wood Cassie had recently held close to her chest.
Cassie shuddered and swiped her hands over her chest and hair. “I hate snakes.” She shuddered again and backed away from the woodpile. But she needed more wood. “Maybe Neil can get me some wood.” She tipped her head toward the nearby trees. “I’m sure there’s lots scattered about for the picking.” But neither of them moved.
After Daisy called him, the boy stuck his head from the cellar hole that he continued to work on. “Can you get Cassie some firewood?”
He climbed from the hole. “There’s a whole stack of it. Me and Roper made sure there was plenty on hand for several days.”
Daisy and Cassie glanced at each other and shuddered. “There’s a snake in there,” Daisy said.
Neil shrugged. “Who cares about a little bitty snake? Come on, Billy. Let’s get some wood for these sissies.” He headed for the woodpile.
Cassie shivered. “It wasn’t little. It was huge. And maybe poisonous.”
Neil skidded to a halt. “How big?”
Daisy held out her arms to indicate a very large snake.
Neil edged away, reaching toward Billy and pushing him back, as well. “We’ll get some from the trees.” He kept his eyes on the woodpile until he was a good distance away.
Cassie could hardly contain her shudders as she returned to the shack, tiptoeing so she wouldn’t wake Pansy. She opened the oven door slowly, grateful it didn’t squeak. The biscuits looked fine.
In a few minutes, the boys returned with their arms loaded, and Cassie had them put some wood in the stove.
“I’m not afraid of snakes, you know,” she told them with mock confidence. Then she boldly marched to the stove and set the lid in place. “Thanks, boys, now I can get back to work.”
Only it wasn’t as simple as she hoped. Some of the wood must have been green for the stove smoked, the heat was uneven and she burned one side of a tray of biscuits.
The heat in the little shack grew oppressive but an hour later she had another tray of biscuits and bread baked a golden brown. She dusted her hands and looked about with satisfaction at all she’d accomplished.
Outside, sounds of the children playing came from the river. Knowing they didn’t need her supervision she grabbed a spade and climbed into the cellar hole. Time to show she could manage on her own. With heartfelt determination, she set to work. The ground was hard and unyielding. After what seemed like hours, she’d made little progress. How did Roper manage to get the hole almost five feet deep in such a short time?
Roper. Who needed him? She jabbed the shovel into the ground sending a jarring shudder through her arms and into her shoulder joints. She hadn’t asked him for his help. Didn’t need him to dig a cellar for her. Gritting her teeth, she jumped on the top of the metal blade, bouncing until the blade edged into the rocklike ground. The wooden handle burned into her palms but she didn’t relent until the dirt loosened.
Sweat beaded her forehead and soaked her chest. She ignored it. A woman must learn to manage on her own. Depending on a man made her vulnerable. Worse, it put her at his mercy. You owe me. You have no choice. I say when and where. Her heart threatened to burst with rage and sorrow. Her mother had jumped when Grandfather said jump. She’d given up every right even to her own opinion.
Cassie would never do the same. Never. She bent over the handle of the shovel, welcoming the pain in her blistered palms. Pain proved she was taking care of herself.
“Why don’t you wait for Roper?”
At the child’s voice she looked up to see Billy looking down into the hole. “I can do it myself.” She tackled another bit of hard soil.
“You ain’t getting much done.”
“Thanks, Billy. Just the encouragement I need.”
“Roper would do a hundred times faster ’n that.”
“Probably he would.” She grunted under a scoop of dirt. Seems each shovelful grew heavier. “But he isn’t here and I am.”
“He’s coming back.”
“Guess so. But this is my house. My cellar. My life. I can manage fine on my own.”
Billy was quiet a moment. “I wouldn’t like to be on my own.” His voice was soft, tight with fear or perhaps sorrow.
Cassie paused, wiped her face on a corner of her skirt and grimaced at her blistered palms. “You’ve got your sisters and your brother so I guess you don’t have to worry about it.” Would siblings have made life easier for her? Likely not. They would have only given Grandfather more ammunition to use against her mother. But maybe if she had a brother or sister they could be partners—
She didn’t need a partner.
Pansy started to cry and both Cassie and Billy turned toward the sound, listening as Daisy soothed the little one. Only Pansy wasn’t being soothed and her wails intensified. After several shrieks, Cassie climbed from the hole and went over to Daisy who held her struggling, screaming little sister. “What’s wrong?”
Daisy’s eyes filled with distress. “I don’t know. She just won’t stop crying.” Indeed, Pansy threw her head back and refused Daisy’s attempts to comfort her.
“Is she hurt?” Cassie had to raise her voice to make herself heard.
“Don’t think so. I was right there and all of a sudden she started to cry.” Daisy bounced her sister but the way Pansy flailed about, Cassie feared she would fling herself from Daisy’s arms.
“You better sit down before she falls.”
Daisy struggled to hold the crying child as they moved to the table.
“Did you see anything?” Cassie asked Neil. “Maybe a snake?” She shuddered.
Neil shook his head.
Daisy’s eyes widened and she quickly examined Pansy. “I don’t see any bite marks.”
“What’s going on?” Roper’s voice startled Cassie. She hadn’t heard him approach. And her relief at seeing him overrode all her fierce arguments. Only, she excused herself, because she hoped he might have a solution to Pansy’s distress.
“We can’t get Pansy to stop crying.”
Roper reached for the little girl but she pushed him away and screeched. “Is she hurt?” he asked.
“We don’t know,” Cassie said, her voice raised to be heard over the toddler’s cries.
Tears welled in Daisy’s eyes. “If only Ma or Pa were here. They’d know what to do.”
Cassie studied the three young faces, all wreathed with concern for their little sister. Each set of lips quivered. Mention of their parents under the circumstances looked like it might release a flood of sorrow.
It was a loss they would have to live with the rest of their lives and nothing would change that. Best they figured out how to do it. She pushed to her feet. “Look, there’s no point in wanting things you can’t have. About all you can do is fix what you can. Make the here and now work.”
“How are we supposed to do that when Pansy won’t stop crying?” Daisy looked about ready to wail herself.
“I’ll show you.”
Roper kept trying to get Pansy’s attention by clapping his hands and playing peek-a-boo. Cassie figured it did little but make the child scream louder.
Seemed obvious to Cassie this was one time trying to make people laugh wasn’t going to work for him. She strode over to the shack where she scooped up a plateful of biscuits, a table knife and the can of syrup and returned to the table. “Sometimes the simplest solution is the most effective. Who likes syrup on their biscuits?”
The two boys plunked down on the bench across the table from her. Both eagerly said, “I do.”
She prepared them each a biscuit. “How about you, Daisy? Would you like one?”
Daisy looked doubtful.
Cassie tilted her head toward Pansy.
Daisy understood what Cassie hoped to do and nodded. “Yes, please.”
Cassie prepared another biscuit and handed it to Daisy who took it with one hand and bit into it.
“Umm. Good.”
Pansy watched, her cries less intense.
“Roper?”
“Sure. A man can always stand a biscuit or two.” He emphasized the last word and Cassie dutifully prepared two.
She did another, put it on a plate and set it on the table to one side of Daisy. “How about you?” she asked Pansy.
Pansy sobbed—a sad sound that tore at Cassie’s heart. The little girl shuddered twice, then wriggled from Daisy’s arms to sit beside her.
Cassie realized they all sat motionless, biscuits held before them as they watched and waited to see if Pansy would decide to eat or continue crying.
Pansy sucked back a sob, then took a bite of her biscuit.
A collective sigh escaped and they all turned back to the food. The quiet was blissful.
“Maybe she was sad,” Daisy said.
“I think you’re right.” Cassie thought the whole lot of them had accepted being orphans without much fuss though once or twice she’d seen them huddled together and expected they shared their sorrow with each other.
The biscuit finished, Pansy’s bottom lip quivered.
Cassie jumped to her feet. “Who’d like tea?”
Three children chorused, “Me.”
So she made tea, poured canned milk into the children’s weak tea and waited a couple of minutes to pour stronger tea for herself and Roper.
He watched her as if he wanted to say something. His patient intensity made her nervous. Was something wrong at the ranch?
“How is Linette?”
“Looking fit as a fiddle. Practically glows with health.”
“Oh, good. I was a little worried when I left but she insisted I should proceed with my plans.”
“She and Cookie sent you some things.” He waved toward the wagon, which she hadn’t noticed until now.
“I thought you were leaving it at the ranch.”
He chuckled. “Needed it again. Come see.”
The children had moved away to play quietly in a circle as if afraid to get too far from each other. Pansy no longer cried but occasionally shuddered.
Cassie watched them a moment, then she followed Roper to the wagon. She nearly gasped when she saw it full of supplies. “My goodness. I can’t take all this. I have to—”
Roper’s smile flattened. “Manage on your own? Do you have to, or do you insist on it?”
“I can’t repay it.”
“Who’s asking you to? Cookie, Linette, Eddie and yes, me, we just want to help. We want you to succeed, to be happy.”
She couldn’t look at him. The words sounded nice. Comforting even. But where did helping end and owing begin? And what was she to do with all these supplies? There were jars of canned beef—Cookie’s specialty—and potatoes, carrots, turnips, pickles, onions. With all this, she would be able to start offering excellent meals to paying guests. And, tucked away in the corner of the wagon, was a batch of Cookie’s excellent cinnamon rolls. Her mouth watered at the prospect.
“Don’t refuse help, Miss Prickly Cassie.”
She finally met Roper’s eyes. The teasing and kindness she saw there made her mouth feel parched. Made her eyes watery and her throat scratchy. “Can kindness really be given without strings attached?”
She hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud but it was too late to stop the words from speeding from her mouth.
Roper chuckled. “I think you know the answer.” He sobered and studied her. “Seems to me someone in your past has taught you otherwise, exacted a price of some sort when they gave a gift, but there are lots of people in this world who give out of love and concern. I think you know a few if you would just let yourself believe it.”
His gaze went on and on, turning over rock-solid arguments in her mind, lapping at memories of her grandfather’s miserly help.
She worried her lips, unable to divert her eyes from his intense gaze. She tried to tell herself she didn’t see things she longed for in his eyes. From a deep well of doubt she brought forth a snort and returned her gaze to the contents of the wagon. “I’ll find a way to pay for it.”
Roper sighed long and hard. “I’ll let you tell Linette yourself. She said she’ll visit soon. Said it would do Grady good to play with other children.”
Grady. She missed the little guy and would be glad to see him. Linette, too. She was the closest Cassie had ever had to a friend. The closest she’d ever allowed. Cookie, too. Tears burned her eyes. She reached for the cinnamon buns. “The children are in for a real treat.”
“I take it you’re going to accept this gift?”
“Can’t hardly send it back, can I?”
He chuckled. “Wouldn’t make a speck of sense to even try.”
“So we might as well unload it.”
He grabbed a box of jarred beef. “Show me where.”
They crammed most of the supplies into the shack crowding it even more. She desperately needed her house finished but her own efforts had done little to accomplish it. She stole a glance at her palms.
Roper noticed and caught her wrists. “What in the world have you done?”
She tried to snatch her hands away but his gentle hold was unrelenting. “Did some work.”
“What sort of work?” His narrowed gaze filled with suspicion. “Tell me you weren’t trying to dig out the cellar.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
He made a noise rife with exasperation. “You need to take care of these hands. Come on, I have something in my saddle bags.”
“I’m fine.” Again she tried to extract herself but he led her from the shack and out to the table, completely ignoring her torrent of protests.
“Sit.” He nudged her so she had no choice. “And stay there while I get the ointment.”
Neil left the other children and hovered close by. “You should have left the digging for Roper.”
Cassie sighed. Bad enough to have Roper nagging at her. Now a twelve-year-old boy had taken up the cause. “I was only trying to help.” She wasn’t helping Roper. She was helping herself. It was her house, her responsibility not his.
Roper returned and knelt before her, turning her palms upward. He tsked and blew on them, cooling the heat in the blisters. But his attention did not calm her insides. He had flipped his hat to the table and she looked down at his brown hair, noting—not for the first time—the little wave that gave his hair a natural pompadour. She was a little tempted to flick her fingers through the wave and see if it flipped back into place automatically.
She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the proximity of the man. But she couldn’t ignore the way he tenderly touched her hands, spreading a yellow ointment over the blistered area. “What is that?” Her voice sounded positively strangled but she couldn’t help it. When had anyone been so attentive to her needs? Not in a very long time. Since she was a child younger than Neil, who rocked back and forth as he watched.
“It’s something I use on my horse.”
She jerked away.
He laughed up at her and captured her hands again, but his gaze remained locked on hers, edging past her hard-earned, hard-learned defenses and laying silent claim to a tender spot deep within that she had long denied—and intended to keep denying.
Correctly reading her silent defensiveness, he grinned. “Don’t think my horse will mind sharing.”
She huffed. “Maybe I do.”
He bent back to his task. “What were you thinking? I’ll finish digging the cellar. Cassie, when are you going to learn to leave the hard stuff to me? It’s part of our agreement.”
Again that demanding look.
Again she deflected it.
“Ma says some things are man stuff.” Neil fairly burst with the need to speak his mind on the matter. “She used to say that when things were too hard for her to do. ‘Man stuff for Pa to do when he got home.’”
Cassie shook her head. “I don’t aim to be beholden to a man.”
Roper had finished applying the ointment but still refused to release her hands. He pulled out a wad of white material and wrapped each hand.
How was she going to work with her hands bundled up in such a fashion? She’d leave the bandages on until morning then they’d come off so she could make bread.
Roper’s gaze rested on her.
She didn’t miss the fact that he burned with the need to say something almost as urgently as Neil. Then he ducked away to secure the end of the second bandage.
“Thank you.” She tried to extricate herself from him, but he kept his fingers around her wrists. His hold was firm, yet his touch was so warm and gentle it clogged her throat with unfamiliar emotions. He perched beside her and watched her.
She studied some distant spot although she focused on nothing in particular except the need to maintain a protective distance from the emotions threatening to rage through her.
“Cassie, I don’t know what happened to make you so prickly. I don’t know why you feel you must stand alone when there are those who would stand with you. I expect it was something very hurtful. I’m sorry and I pray God will heal that hurt. But hear me carefully.”
When she continued to stare at nothing, he released her wrists to catch her chin and turn her to face him, waiting until she met his gaze. She immediately wished she’d continued to refuse as the kindness and concern in his face almost melted her resistance. The war inside her made her dizzy with fear and longing.
Seeing he had her full attention, he nodded. “Cassie Godfrey, we have a business arrangement. That means we each give something to this situation. You provide meals and shelter and care for the children. In return, I help with the children, dig your cellar and build your house. But hear me and hear me good. Even if we had no arrangement I would help you if you let me. I think you know that. No strings attached. No expectations except to do what Neil calls ‘the man stuff.’”
She rocked her head back and forth. It sounded nice. But she couldn’t trust such generosity. Best if she depended on no one but herself.
“Fine.” He let her go, leaving her off balance.
She tried to clasp her hands together but the palms were too tender and she settled for folding her wrists at her waist.
“If that’s the way it is at least we still have our business agreement.” He headed for the cellar hole, grabbed a shovel and jumped down. In a few minutes, he pitched earth over his shoulder.
She felt his anger clear across the few feet and in the vigor of the dirt being tossed. But what else could she do? Accepting anything but business between them would give him the right to be angry at her anytime and for any reason. This way they would part when arrangements were made for the children. They would go their separate ways. It was for the best.
Scoops of dirt flew from the hole.
She did not look forward to living with Roper’s anger even temporarily. She stared at her bandaged hands, remembering his gentle touch, and seemed unable to move.
Neil touched her shoulder. “You should be happy he can help you. My ma sure wished Pa was around to help her.”
She nodded, her tongue suddenly wooden and unable to form a word even if she could have dragged it from her brain. She could not allow herself to be happy Roper was around for any reason—chalking up favor after favor.
Something he’d said slipped back her stalled brain.
I’ll pray for you.
Ah. No wonder she was feeling out of sorts. When was the last time she’d prayed? Several days ago if she wasn’t mistaken. God, I trusted You to provide this opportunity so I could be independent. Seems I’ve gotten a little confused about my intentions what with the children needing help and Roper striking an agreement. Remembering how she’d originally thought his offer of a business arrangement was an answer to a prayer, she let her tension ease out. God had provided a way she could accept help without being in anyone’s debt. She would accept it with gratitude and make the best of it. I’ll just be sure to uphold my end of the bargain.
She pushed to her feet and set to work making supper. It was difficult with her sore hands but she managed and a little later announced the meal was ready. If Roper faced her with anger she would simply ignore it and do her duty.
Hadn’t she learned that lesson over and over until it was branded indelibly on her brain?
Just as she’d learned to ignore the pain of those memories.