Handpicked Husband. Winnie Griggs

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      Reggie smiled as she saw a few brows go up. If they had expected the wiry old handyman to act like one of her grandfather’s servants, they now knew better. Ira and Mrs. Peavy were like part of her family.

      “Do you know Grandfather Madison?” Jack asked before anyone could respond to Ira’s question.

      “We sure do.” Again it was Adam who spoke up. “And he wanted us to make certain we told you he said hello and that he wishes he could have come.”

      Reggie barely swallowed her snort of disbelief. The old coot had never set foot in Turnabout before. And she sure as sunshine knew this particular trip was one he hadn’t wanted to be along on.

      “Is that why y’all came all the way out here?”

      “Jack,” Reggie warned. “It’s not polite to pester our guests with questions.”

      “That’s all right.” Adam brushed Reggie’s concern aside and met Jack’s gaze again. “How’s a fellow to find out anything if he doesn’t ask. And yes, Jack, that’s one of the reasons we came out here. I promised your great-grandfather to deliver that message just as soon as I arrived in Turnabout.”

      Jack glanced up over his shoulder. “Are they staying here with us, Aunt Reggie?”

      “Just for tonight. We’re all going back into town tomorrow.”

      That brought a frown to the boy’s face. “But I thought we were gonna stay another two days,” he protested.

      She ruffled his sandy red hair. “I know. But you don’t mind leaving a bit early, do you? This cabin wasn’t built to hold more than a few folk. As it is, our guests are going to have to sleep on the floor tonight.” Not that she gave a fig for the four men’s comfort. She was more concerned with the wagging tongues back home.

      “Besides, our visitors are eager to get settled in town, and we wouldn’t want to send Grandfather Madison’s friends off without our help, would we?”

      “No, ma’am.” He turned back to the men. “If you like, you can go frogging with me and Ira tonight.”

      Pride shimmered through Reggie. That was her boy—quick to get over his disappointment and generously willing to include the troublemakers in his fun.

      “Frogging?” The question came from Mr. Fulton.

      “Yes, sir,” Jack said with a nod. Then, apparently realizing an explanation was in order, “You know, hunting bullfrogs. If we catch enough, Mrs. Peavy promised to fry up some frog legs for lunch tomorrow.”

      Reggie didn’t bother to hide her grin at the sight of the dandy’s horrified expression.

      “Sounds like fun.” The young Mr. Dawson was obviously not as squeamish. “I’ve never hunted frogs before.”

      “Don’t worry. Me and Ira’ll teach you,” Jack promised.

      Reggie gave Jack’s shoulders a light squeeze then stepped back and dropped her hands. “You go along and help Ira put away the fishing gear. Then see if Mrs. Peavy needs any kindling brought in.”

      She turned to the others. “I’m afraid we live a pretty simple life out here. Not much to offer you in the way of fancy amenities, and everyone pitches in to help with the chores. There’s a place around back where you can feed and tend to your horses. Then you can get washed up down by the lake if you’ve a mind to.”

      “I’ll take care of the horses and the buggy,” Mr. Parker volunteered.

      Adam straightened. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of Trib myself.”

      “Come along then,” Ira instructed. “Jack and I’ll show you where we keep the feed.”

      Reggie watched them disappear around the corner, then turned to her two remaining guests. “You’ll find some buckets on the other side of the porch. I’d appreciate it if you’d each grab one and go down to the lake to fetch some fresh water. We’ll be needing it to clean the dishes and the like later.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” Chance immediately stood and reached for his still-damp boot.

      Mr. Fulton didn’t respond right away, but at her unblinking stare, he finally gave a short, mocking bow and turned to grab the bucket.

      As the two headed down the trail, Reggie found herself alone for the first time since the men had swooped into her life like hounds on the scent of game.

      Feeling suddenly tired beyond reckoning, she sagged down on the porch step and put her chin on her knees.

      It wasn’t fair! The pieces of her life had just started to fall into place. With Lemuel’s passing, God rest his soul, she was independent, answerable to no one for the first time in her twenty-three years. Her grandfather had known how restricted she felt living in her brother-in-law’s household, and how she’d only stayed there to be close to Jack.

      Now, to have that sweet, newfound freedom snatched away before she’d had time to truly savor it was more than cruel. It was downright spiteful.

      Grandfather, why did you do this to me?

      Chapter Five

      As Adam followed Ira and Jack around the cabin, he studied the older man, trying to sort through the jumble of contradictory impressions he presented.

      Though nearly bald and sporting a chin full of gray whiskers, the housekeeper’s husband was as spry as a schoolboy. His leathery skin and crow’s feet were offset by eyes that shone as blue and clear as a newborn’s.

      Slightly built and a head shorter than Adam, he had a puckish quality about him. Maybe it had something to do with that glint of a gold tooth Adam had spotted earlier, or with the abundance of laugh lines bracketing his mouth.

      A flash of color distracted Adam from his musings.

      What in the world...

      He stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the exotic contraption perched beside the small feed crib.

      It was a wagon, he finally decided. But he’d never seen its like outside of a circus parade. To call it gaudy was doing it a kindness.

      From this angle, only the back and part of one side was visible, but it was enough. More than enough. Not only was the caravan-style conveyance painted in garish shades of green, maroon and gold, but it was constructed in an overblown design, complete with exuberant scrollwork and elaborately carved panels.

      “What kind of rig is that?”

      Adam tore his gaze away from the flamboyant sight long enough to glance at Mitchell over his shoulder. The man wore a bemused, dumbfounded expression. Adam realized his own was probably similar.

      “Looks like a circus wagon,” he said, stroking Trib’s nose. “Though what it’s doing out here—”

      Ira, dusting his hands after sliding the fishing poles up under the eaves of the crib, grinned. “I see you spied Reggie’s СКАЧАТЬ