Falling for the Rancher Father

Mercy watched Abel ride from the yard, then got the children to help her clean the little cabin. When they were done she lifted the gunnysack. “I brought something for you to do.”

“What? What?” Ladd jumped up and down.

“Can we see?” Allie bounced on her feet, then sighed and stood still.

Mercy wished she could tell the child to enjoy herself, but Abel said her heart might be damaged. Must the poor little girl live like an invalid all her life? Mercy had planned things to amuse both children—quiet, imaginative play for Allie, more vigorous activity for Ladd.

She pulled pieces of paper from the sack. “It doesn’t look like much yet, but this is everything we need to take a long, adventuresome trip.”

Both children studied the paper as if expecting a covered wagon to emerge.

The sun had already driven away the cooler night air. “It’s going to be a lovely day. Let’s sit outside and enjoy it while we have our adventure.” She grabbed a quilt off the bed and spread it under a tree that allowed her a good view of the clearing. She hadn’t seen the whiskered man again, nor had she placed him in her memories, but she meant to be cautious until she was certain he was either gone or posed no threat to them.

The three of them sat on the quilt, the children’s expressions eager.

“Would you like to go on a ship?”

“Where to?” Allie asked, her eyes gleaming.

“Where would you like to go?”

They looked puzzled.

“I crossed the ocean from my home in England in order to get here.” She described the ship. “Do you want to come with me?”

They both nodded, Ladd curious, Allie excited. Her porcelain cheeks had a healthy rosy tint to them. Or did the color signal heart problems? She’d asked Sybil and Linette about the child and both had warned her to watch for breathlessness, fatigue, chest pain or nausea. Sybil said she once knew a boy who had heart problems and his lips would get blue. Mercy saw none of those signs, so unless she witnessed evidence to the contrary she’d take it for natural coloring.

“I’ll show you how to make boats.” As she talked, she folded the paper into a boat shape and then made sailor hats for them.

“Let’s get ready for an adventure.” She told them of the tall smokestacks on the ship, the storms that blew and the way the waves rose so high.

She guided their play, letting Ladd climb the tree beside them and be the lookout while Allie stood on the ground acting as the captain, giving orders to Ladd.

Mercy watched Allie closely for any sign of fatigue or blueness around her lips. But the children played for a couple of hours before she felt she should direct them to quieter play.

She pulled out an atlas she had borrowed from Linette and Eddie’s library. “Let’s see some of the places we could go.”

For the rest of the morning they pored over the book and she told them things she knew about each country they decided to visit. It was a good thing she had paid attention to her geography and history lessons.

“Now it’s time for the travelers to have something to eat.”

She made sandwiches and they ate outside. “I’ll make tea for us.” She left them on the quilt and made tea thinned with tinned milk and rejoined them on the quilt.

The thud of approaching horse hooves and rattle of a chain jerked her to her feet and instantly at attention, but it was only Abel dragging logs into the clearing to the spot where he meant to build a new cabin.

The children rose, too.

“Papa,” Allie called.

“Stay there until I finish.”

He unhooked the chains, then straightened and wiped his arm across his brow. All the while, he studied the children until Mercy fought an urge to jump up and down and say she hadn’t been doing anything wrong.

But she would not let his suspicious nature affect her.

His gaze settled on her. She met his look without flinching because—she told herself firmly—she had no reason to be nervous. Sunlight flashed in his eyes making them a warm blue. Their gazes held. The look went on and on until her lungs grew airless. She was overly aware of his study, of her own rapid heartbeat and of the shimmering air in the clearing.

He headed toward them and her ribs tightened so much her lungs could not work.

Ladd raced to him. “Papa, we have been having such fun.”

Abel shifted his attention to the boy, and Mercy gasped in an endless breath. What had happened? Why had she felt so strange, as if the air between them pulsed with something she couldn’t name?

Allie took two steps then waited for Abel to reach her and lift her to his arms. “We’ve traveled all over the world.”

Abel lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “I sure am glad you got back before I did. I might have worried.”

The twins laughed. “Oh, Papa,” Allie scolded. “We were here all the time.” She squirmed from his arms and ran to Mercy’s side and smiled up at her. “Mercy took us on a pretend voyage. I was the captain.”

“And I got to climb high and be the watchman.”

“I am most glad to see you’ve all survived your adventure.” His gaze bored into Mercy. She tried to tell herself he was warning her that the children better remain unharmed. But it wasn’t suspicion she saw or felt. His look measured her, examined her and left her again struggling to fill her lungs.

“Of course everyone is safe,” she murmured, then jerked away, saw the tin of cookies on the quilt and grabbed it. “Abel, we were about to have tea. Would you care to join us?” Oh no. Had she just called him by his given name? Surely another evidence of her unacceptable behavior. But it had somehow slipped out of its own accord.

“Oh, please do, Papa,” Allie begged. “It’s such fun.”

“I think I shall.” He sat cross-legged on the corner of the quilt. The children sat beside him.

His ready acceptance surprised her, made it impossible for her to think clearly. Shouldn’t he be in a hurry to get his work done instead of lingering here? But for some crazy reason, she’d asked. And now she must do as she’d offered and she passed the cookies and poured milk tea from the jug she had prepared.

As he sipped from his cup, he continued to watch her.

What did he want? Why did he keep looking at her so intently? Did he like what he saw? She squirmed under his scrutiny, rearranged the five remaining cookies in the tin, set the tin on the quilt and adjusted it several times. Then, to see if he still stared at her, she lifted her gaze back to him. She blinked as her eyes collided with his blue ones.

Had he watched her all this time?

He jerked his gaze away and put his cup down. “I have to get back to work.” He gained his feet in a flash. “I can get more logs hauled in this afternoon.” He clamped his hat on his head and strode away.

“Bye, Papa,” the twins called, then turned their attention back to their cookies and tea.

Mercy saw Abel pause at the edge of the clearing to glance their way again. His look slid past her and then returned. He shook his head as he guided the horse out of sight.

Mercy tried to analyze what had just happened. Why had he stared so long? Why had she found it so difficult to breathe? It didn’t make sense. She had befriended all the cowboys at the ranch. She had been at ease with the sailors on the ship and with everyone—male or female—she met in between. But never had she felt such a strange tightness in her throat or a twitch behind her eyeballs.

Goodness. The man didn’t even approve of her. He only tolerated her presence because he had no other way of providing supervision for his children. Still, she couldn’t help admiring his devotion to the twins. Many children didn’t ever know such approval from either parent. As for her, he made his opinion crystal clear.

She shook her head, as Abel had done, and wondered if he was as confused as she was.