Wolf Creek Wedding. Penny Richards

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      “Obligations are things that are our responsibilities. Like what I was talking about when I described the duties of fathers and mothers. Parents have the obligation to bring up children to be good, God-fearing citizens. You are responsible for keeping your room clean and setting the table and feeding the animals and milking Nana. When I tell you to keep an eye on Laura, it is your obligation to see that she’s safe. Sometimes, obligations involve money. Things we must pay for.”

      There! She had prepared him as best she could, though she felt she had done a poor job of it. To his credit, Ben did not spout off or throw a fit. Only the downward turn of his mouth and his refusal to meet her gaze spoke of his misery. Finally, he looked up at her.

      “Like buying eggs when the hens stop laying and sugar and flour and coffee?” he asked.

      “Yes.” And shoes and shirts and medicine when your children get sick, Abby thought as she pulled him close to her side. “I have always been as truthful with you as I have felt you could understand, so I will not lie to you now. This will be hard on all of us.”

      Ben pulled away and regarded her with a solemn expression. “It won’t be hard on Mr. Gentry. He doesn’t have to live somewhere different.”

      “Actually, he does,” Abby said with a gentle smile. “He won’t be staying in his house while we’re here. He’ll be moving into the bunkhouse with his hired men. He will just take his meals here and use his office when necessary. That’s quite a sacrifice for him, as well as having people he doesn’t even know taking over his home. And we mustn’t forget that his wife just died. I want you to think about how you felt when your father passed away. You were sad and angry with him and God for at least a month, and you took it out on your sister. Remember?”

      Ben nodded.

      Abby smiled and brushed back a lock of his fine blond hair. “Just remember that Mr. Gentry may be feeling the same way for a while, and try to be patient and forgiving. Can you do that?”

      “I’ll try.”

      “That’s all I ask,” Abby said.

      She gave him a final hug and stood. As they were about to leave the kitchen, Caleb came through the door, looking rugged and unyielding, his arms laden with things she’d brought from her own kitchen. He set a loaf of bread wrapped in a clean dish towel onto the table next to the basket of cookies, and put a heavy cast-iron kettle of squirrel and dumplings on the stove.

      “I’ve put your things in your room.”

      “Thank you,” Abby said.

      “Would you mind if Ben and Laura sleep with you for a day or two? I’ll have to move some things from Emily’s room into the attic for Ben to have his own room.”

      “That will be fine.”

      “I thought I’d put Betsy’s cradle in your room, too, so you can be near both girls.”

      “Perfect.”

      “Let me show you around,” he said, relieved that there were no objections.

      He led the small procession down the hallway. The bedroom was furnished simply with a bed, an oak armoire and a highboy. Abby noted that he had built a small fire to combat the autumn chill, and warmth was already starting to spread throughout the area, which was far larger than any room at her home. As spacious as it was and even though she knew the furnishings were of good quality, the house seemed sterile somehow, as untouched as Caleb Gentry’s heart. Shifting Laura on her hip, she ran her fingertip through the dust that had gathered on top of a chest of drawers. And it could use a thorough cleaning.

      “I guess it needs a good cleaning,” he said, echoing her thoughts.

      The sound of his voice sent Abby’s gaze winging to his, and she saw that the dull red of embarrassment had crept into the harsh sweep of his cheekbones. Too late, she realized what she had done. Oh, dear! Could she and the children do nothing right?

      “Emily didn’t have much energy the past few months, and I—”

      “There’s no need to apologize, Mr. Gentry,” she rushed to assure him. “Any woman who has carried a child to term understands.” She offered him a nonjudgmental smile. “It’s a lovely home and it won’t take much to get things in order.”

      “I suppose not.” Clearly eager to be away from the house and all the turmoil and unhappiness in it, he said, “I need to get one of my hands to go over to your place and see to your animals tonight. We’ll move them tomorrow.”

      “Thank you. I’m sorry to put you to the trouble.”

      “It’s not a problem.” She told him how to find her house and he gave a sharp nod. He looked as tense as she felt. It seemed as if they were both trying to outdo the other in civility.

      She offered him a thin smile. “I’ll just get our things put away and check on Betsy again.”

      “I have to go into town and make arrangements at the, uh—” he cleared his throat “—funeral home, so I can’t stay to see that you get settled in. Feel free to just...look around if you need something. I’ll be back by dusk for supper. Just fix whatever you want.”

      Laura muttered something that sounded remarkably like “supper” and offered Caleb one of her incredible smiles. Just as incredibly, the bleakness in his storm-gray eyes dimmed the tiniest bit. Though it in no way could be called a smile and was so fleeting that Abby was certain it must be a trick of the light, it seemed that just for a second, the unyielding firmness of his mouth softened somewhat.

      She gave her daughter a squeeze. It seemed that at least one of the Carters was not intimidated by the overwhelming presence of the man, and even seemed to be taken with him! Much to her own mortification considering the circumstances, Abby realized that in his own rough, brooding sort of way, Caleb Gentry was an attractive man.

      * * *

      Caleb rode his gelding into town, his body past weariness, sporadic images flitting through his weary mind like flashes of lighting against a sullen sky. Rachel coming from the room where a baby’s crying was the only sound after Emily had gone suddenly quiet. His gaze straying to the bed, where a sheet covered Emily’s face. His heart stumbling in his chest, and the resolute, relentless ticking of the clock, while his exhausted brain struggled to assimilate what his eyes were seeing. Rachel’s voice, filled with weariness and regret. Emily was dead and his baby daughter needed someone to take care of her, to feed her. An overwhelming certainty that there must be something terribly wrong with him for his inability to feel anything over his wife’s death but panic and fear....

      The random images faded, and reason—of sorts—returned along with memories of the past couple of hours. He conceded that he had jumped to conclusions with Mrs. Carter’s boy. It wasn’t his fault his sister had broken the shepherdess, but with Caleb’s own emotions so raw, and his feelings of inadequacy at the surface, he had been eager to place blame. The truth was that his whole world was turned upside down. Nothing would ever be the same, so he might as well get used to the idea of Mrs. Carter and her children being around, at least for the foreseeable future.

      Whether he liked it or not.

      With a grunt of disgust, he guided the horse down Antioch Street, and took a right toward the railroad tracks. The house Rachel СКАЧАТЬ