The Daddy Dilemma

Widower Abel Borgard has his hands full raising twins and establishing a homestead. Mercy Newell’s offer to care for his son and daughter seems like the perfect solution. And though it takes no time for Mercy to steal his children’s hearts, Abel’s is another story, because he’s a single father set on stability and she’s a wild-at-heart beauty searching for adventure.

Joining a Wild West show as a trick rider is Mercy’s dream. She never foresaw the joy she’d find caring for Abel’s children. The rugged widower hardly trusts her yet. But by the first snowfall, there could be a new family—and new love—in Eden Valley….

Cowboys of Eden Valley: Forging a future in Canada’s West country

“I would like to ask you to consider coming a bit longer.

“I could get my work done so much faster if I didn’t have to watch the twins, and they really enjoy having you here.”

That she knew to be true. But what did Abel think of her presence? Mercy dared not ask. “I enjoy keeping them company.”

“So you’ll think about it?”

It was a beginning. More time would allow him to see how ordinary she could be. “I don’t need to. My answer is yes.”

He jumped to his feet and stood by her chair. “That’s great.”

She took her time inserting the threaded needle into the fabric she held. Carefully, she folded it, keeping the needle visible on top, and set it on the basket of other items to be mended. Only then did she lift her gaze to him.

He grinned widely. She wondered if his eyes revealed approval or only relief.

LINDA FORD

lives on a ranch in Alberta, Canada. Growing up on the prairie and learning to notice the small details it hides gave her an appreciation for watching God at work in His creation. Her upbringing also included being taught to trust God in everything and through everything—a theme that resonates in her stories. Threads of another part of her life are found in her stories—her concern for children and their future. She and her husband raised fourteen

children—four homemade, ten adopted. She currently shares her home and life with her husband, a grown son, a live-in paraplegic client and a continual (and welcome) stream of kids, kids-in-law, grandkids and assorted friends and relatives.

Falling for the Rancher Father

Linda Ford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.

—Psalms 139:2

To my grandson, Julien, as he graduates from high school. Good for you.

I know you’ve worked hard. We’re so proud of you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Eden Valley Ranch, Alberta, Canada

Fall 1882

She was gone.

His heart slammed against his ribs. He scanned the entire clearing again just to make sure but she wasn’t there.

“Allie.” Abel Borgard yelled his daughter’s name. One minute ago the nine-year-old sat on the chair by the cabin. He’d warned her to stay there while he unloaded the supplies, but now she’d disappeared. “It’s not like her,” he complained aloud. Ladd, her twin brother, was a different matter. He’d set off exploring the moment they’d alighted from the wagon. Abel had warned him to stay nearby, but it didn’t worry him when Ladd got out of sight. The boy had learned at a young age to be self-reliant. Allie, on the other hand, needed rest and protection. The doctor’s warning reverberated through Abel’s brain. “She’s extremely fortunate to have survived scarlet fever, especially under the circumstances.”

“Allie.” He didn’t bother calling this time, just muttered the word under his breath. He again turned full circle, studying his surroundings. The tiny cabin would provide temporary shelter until he could erect a larger one, which he had to do before winter. The chill in the air reminded him time was short.

The trees, a nice mix of spruce and aspen, were far enough from the buildings to allow plenty of sunshine to reach the living quarters yet provide protection and privacy. The mountains rose to the west in all their fall majesty.

He completed his inspection of the surroundings but saw no little girl. Not so much as a hint of the blue dress she wore.

Abel understood the doctor’s warning. Abel had come home from a three-month absence as he sought work to discover his wife had left days before, abandoning the then eight-year-olds to care for themselves. He’d found them huddled together, hungry and afraid. According to what he could get from the children, Allie had been sick even before Ruby left. Though in all fairness, Ruby likely hadn’t known at that point it was anything more than a chill. Perhaps she hadn’t even meant to leave them for more than a night but she’d fallen into the river and drowned. He liked to believe it had simply been misfortune, but he guessed she’d spent too much time in the back room of the saloon sharing drinks.

He strained to catch any sound of the children. Wasn’t there a thud to his right...like distant horse hooves? Every nerve in his body tensed. An intruder? Were the children in danger?

The doctor had left Abel with no misconceptions as to the seriousness of Allie’s situation. “I fear she will have damaged her heart. You’ll need to limit her activities for the rest of her life or...” At this point, he’d shaken his head as if expecting the worst.

Abel had vowed on the spot that Allie would be treated as gently as a fragile china doll. He couldn’t lose her. If anything happened to her he would never forgive himself. Any more than he forgave himself for the fact the children had been abandoned by his wife while he went in search of work. Ruby had never wanted to settle down and from the beginning had found the children a heavy burden, while Abel discovered they gave him reason to leave off being a wastrel. He regretted having started down that wayward path in the first place. The only good thing to come of it was his children and his determination to live a responsible, careful life from now on. He was twenty-nine years old and would devote the rest of his life to the well-being of his children. Never again would he allow his foolish emotions to lead him down the slippery path into the arms of a woman. Any woman. He would not risk his children’s health and happiness by trusting a woman to settle down and be wife and mother.

Another thud. No mistaking the sound. There was a horse in the nearby clearing. His heart thumped him in his ribs hard enough to cause him to catch his breath.

He broke into a gallop and headed for the spot.

If anything happened to either of the twins...

He saw Allie ahead, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, her hands clasped together as if she tried to contain some emotion. Already her cheeks had turned rosy—a sure indication of her excited state. A danger sign.

He raced toward her and scooped her into his arms. He brushed strands of her long blond hair off her face. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Papa. Isn’t she glorious?” She twisted and pointed.

Abel jerked his gaze from his precious daughter and followed the direction she indicated. His eyes lit on a woman who reminded him of those he’d seen in saloons. Only instead of bright-colored, revealing dresses, she wore a dark red shirt, fringed gloves and riding pants. It wasn’t the clothes that brought those other women to mind—it was the look of sheer abandon on her face. Her mahogany-colored hair rippled down her back, held in place by a small cowboy hat secured under her chin. She sat on a beautiful palomino gelding.

She waved a hand over her head and the horse reared on its back legs.

Abel clutched Allie tight. “She’s going to be hurt.”

“Oh, no.” Allie’s voice was round with awe. “She does it on purpose. She’s a trick rider. She’s going to join a Wild West show.”

“She is, is she?” The gal made a beautiful picture of horse and rider but she posed a threat to his children if she hung about, filling Allie’s head with admiration.

The horse returned to all fours and clapping caught Abel’s attention. Ladd stood on the other side of the horse, his eyes round with awe. “Can you show me how to do that?”

“It’s not hard.” The woman’s voice rang with humor and what he could only explain as love of life.

That was all well and good. He had no objection to her joining a Wild West show, loving life or doing dangerous things on back of a horse, so long as she stayed away from his kids.

“Can you show me?” Ladd asked.

“Sure thing. All you do—”

Abel crossed the clearing to clamp his hand on Ladd’s shoulder. The boy jerked, surprised, no doubt, at the sudden appearance of his father. Hopefully he was also feeling a little guilty at having brought Allie out to the woods when she was supposed to rest. “Ladd, take your sister back to the cabin. Allie, you know you shouldn’t be here.”

Allie patted him on the cheek. “I’m okay, Papa. You worry too much.”

“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. I only want you both to be safe.” He set his daughter on her feet, patted them both on the back and sent them on their way. He didn’t turn until they were out of sight.

Sucking in air, he tried to calm the way his insides rolled and bucked at how this woman had intruded on his hope of peace and quiet. He didn’t want to say anything he’d later regret, so he pushed aside his inner turmoil as he slowly faced the woman. “You’re trespassing.”

She lounged in her saddle as if she meant to spend her entire day there. “I think you are mistaken. This land belongs to Eddie Gardiner. He’s given me permission to be here.”

“That might have been so at one time, but I’ve rented the cabin and the surrounding land from Mr. Eddie Gardiner.” He planned to raise cows. His ranch would be insignificant compared to the Eden Valley Ranch, but it was all he wanted. Besides— “I want peace and quiet for my children.” At the cold way she studied him, his resolve mounted a protest. “I don’t want them learning reckless ways. Nor do I want my daughter overexcited by witnessing your activities. What you do in your own time and space is your business. But what you do around my children is my business.”

The grin she wore plainly said she didn’t take him seriously.

His spine tingled as he held back a desire to tell her exactly what he thought. He mentally counted to ten then widened his stance, narrowed his eyes and gave her his best don’t-mess-with-me look, the one that made the twins jump to obey. “I suggest you leave and don’t come back.”

She laughed. A cheerful-enough sound, but one that dug talons into his backbone. It reminded him of Ruby and the way she laughed when he suggested she should settle down and be a mother to the children. And it filled him with something hard and cold. But before he could put words to his feelings, she spoke.

“Pleased to meet you. Nice to know there’ll be a kind neighbor nearby.” She reined her horse into a two-legged stand and let out a wild whoop. “I’ll no doubt be seeing you around since we’re neighbors.” She drawled out the last word in a mocking way, then rode away at a gallop, bent over her mount’s neck as they raced through the trees.

“You won’t be seeing more of me and my family if I have anything to say about it,” he murmured then headed for the cabin and his kids. He had to make sure they were unharmed after encountering the crazy wild woman on horseback.

* * *

Twenty-year-old Mercy Newell galloped through the trees, not slowing until she reached the barn on the Eden Valley Ranch—her home in Canada. She’d come from London to this raw new country a little more than two months ago with Eddie’s sister, Jayne, and their mutual friend, Sybil. Both were now married and living in small log cabins on the ranch though both said they and their new husbands would be starting their own ranches come spring. She wished them all the best, but she didn’t intend to marry and settle down. Not when there were things she wanted to do. Number one on that list was to join a Wild West show. Since the day she’d seen one in Benton, Montana, on their trip here she’d known she wanted to be part of such a show. The excitement, the thrill, the roar of the crowd’s approval...

While there, she’d even managed to get a few lessons in doing the stunts and instructions on more things she could learn. Since her arrival at Eden Valley Ranch, she’d also been taking lessons from anyone who would help her.

She reined in, pulling Nugget to a halt, getting him to rear up. She jumped from the saddle before he returned to all fours and led him to the barn where she brushed and fed him.

All the while she muttered about the man in her clearing. “Who does he think he is? Telling me to leave like I was common trash. As if he has the right. He says he rented the cabin. I’m not about to take his word on it, though. But even if he did, that doesn’t give him the right to chase me away.”

Nugget nudged her aside as if to say he was tired of her grousing.

“Fine. You’re not the only one I can talk to.” Finished caring for the horse, she stalked across to Jayne and Seth’s cabin. All the men were at the fall roundup except for Cookie’s husband, Bertie. She didn’t even spare a glance toward the cookhouse. Cookie and Bertie would both tell her to calm down and be sensible.

Mercy had no intention of doing either.

She knocked and strode in without waiting for an answer. Besides Jayne, both Sybil and Linette, Eddie’s wife, sat around the table. “Good. The three of you are here. You can all hear my story at the same time.” She plunked down on the only available chair. “I met the most rude man.”

Sybil sat up straighter. “Where? Mercy, what have you been up to this time? I do wish you wouldn’t roam about the woods as if—”

Jayne spoke as soon as Sybil paused for breath. “Please don’t tell us you’ve met a man while out there. What kind of man? What did he do?”

Mercy waved aside their concerns. “He says he’s rented that little cabin southwest of here. He informed me I was trespassing. Pfft. If he thinks he can order me around, well, he’ll soon learn otherwise.”

Linette waited for Mercy to run out of steam. “That must be Abel Borgard. Eddie told me he’d let him have the little cabin for himself and his children. Twins, Eddie said. A boy and a girl. Did you see them?”

She smiled. “I didn’t realize they were twins. The little boy is sturdy and filled with curiosity. He wanted me to show him how to teach a horse some tricks.” She ignored the way the others looked at each other and shook their heads. They simply did not understand why she had to do this. They’d asked and she’d only said it was an adventure. But it was more than that. A need deep inside. A restless itch that had to be tended to. She’d been that way most of her life. Probably since her brother died when he was eight and she, six. It was not a time in her life she liked to think about so she gladly pulled her thoughts back to her waiting friends. “The little girl is tiny but a real beauty. Her father swept her into his arms as if she was a—” She couldn’t finish. She’d been about to say a precious princess. “A much younger child.” She’d seen the way the little girl patted his cheeks and how his expression softened with what Mercy could only interpret as devotion. “He said I was too reckless to be around his children. Really? I am never reckless.”

The others laughed.

Mercy tried to scowl but ended up laughing, as well.

Sybil sighed. “It sounds romantic. A man raising two children on his own. So protective of them.”

Linette patted her rounded tummy. She was two months from having her firstborn. “Eddie will be a good father. I’ve already seen it in the way he treats Grady.” Grady was the little boy they were raising as their own.

“Where is Grady?” Mercy asked.

“He’s over at Cassie’s playing with the children.” Cassie and Roper and the four children they’d adopted lived beyond the barn in a house big enough for the six of them.

Linette returned immediately to Mercy’s situation. “It seems to me you’ll have to respect Abel’s wishes and stay away from the cabin. Maybe now you’ll remain at the ranch. Tell me you will. I worry about you out there on your own.”

Mercy didn’t bother to again say she could take care of herself. “Guess I will be practicing my riding and roping around here until I find another place. But—” She leaned forward and gave them each a demanding look. “I don’t want anyone hanging about warning me about the dangers. Agreed?”

Jayne and Linette exchanged a look then together shook their heads. “We aren’t agreeing to any such thing.”

“Nor am I,” Sybil said. “From the beginning I’ve opposed your dream to join a Wild West show and will continue to do so.”

Mercy groaned. “I can see I’ll have to find another place to practice.” In the meantime, the corrals were virtually empty, with the cowboys and horses gone on the roundup. She’d be able to work on her tricks without a lot of interference. She’d simply deflect her friends’ needless worry should they voice it.

The next morning she slipped from the house before Linette or Grady stirred and hurried down to the corral behind the barn. The guns she used for her fancy shooting worried the others the most so she did her gun work in the cold dawn. The pearl-handled guns, one of her greatest treasures, had been acquired through Cal, a cowboy who had worked at the Eden Valley Ranch before he’d been fired. She’d encouraged Cal to do a number of things Eddie didn’t approve of. He’d even coached her roping stunts. Thankfully, it was his own actions that got him fired, and nothing she could feel responsible for.

After an hour, her wrists grew tired and she saddled Nugget and brought him out to the same area. She practiced a number of tricks—bowing, rearing up, sidestepping. Then she turned her attention to a new trick—teaching Nugget to lie on his back and let her sit on his chest.

She finally got him to lie down and roll to his back and rewarded him with a carrot.

The sun had grown warm. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d eaten nothing but a slab of bread she’d grabbed on her way through the kitchen. Linette and Grady would be up and about by now. Time to climb the hill and find breakfast. She’d heard Cookie call good morning to Jayne a short time ago. Overhead, a flock of geese honked, and a crow called from the trees. The chickens cackled and crowed. The world had come alive.

She stepped into the house and traipsed down the hall to the kitchen.

Grady ran to her, almost tackled her. She caught him. “Whoa, cowboy. What’s your hurry?”

“We got company.”

Warning trickled down Mercy’s spine. Surely Abel hadn’t stepped into her corner of the ranch. She slowly raised her eyes. The twins sat at the table watching her. She shifted her gaze around the room until she met Linette’s eyes. No one else was there.

Her breath whooshed out.

“Papa says we can stay here while he works,” Allie said.

“That’s nice.”

The children eyed her. She eyed them back. Then they all grinned.

Linette brushed a strand of hair off her face. “I thought you might like to take the three of them out after breakfast and amuse them while I do some things around the house.”

Mercy laughed, as much out of relief as amusement. She didn’t mind spending time with the children. Over breakfast, she considered the day. “Who wants to watch me do some roping?”

The boys yelled yes and Allie nodded, her blue eyes sparkling.

“Good. Then finish your breakfast, help me clean up and we’ll go do it.”

The boys ate hurriedly but Allie picked at her food.

“Come on, Allie,” Ladd said. “We can’t go until you finish.”

Slowly she cleaned her plate, then the three of them helped Mercy do the dishes. Ladd dried the dishes so fast they barely got introduced to the towel. He was darker than his sister, his blue eyes so dark they almost seemed black until the light hit them and the blue became evident.

Grady, five years old, carefully placed each dish on the table and dried it with both hands.

Allie dried each dish as slowly as she ate.

Ladd nudged his sister. “Go faster.”

“I can’t.”

They studied each other. Mercy thought Ladd would press the point and then he patted her shoulder. “Do your best.”

Mercy turned away and stared at the soapy dishwater. The boy’s gentleness with his sister tugged at her thoughts. Had her brother, Butler, treated her with such kindness? She tried to remember. But it seemed she could only recall the loneliness of his illness and the emptiness of the house after he died. And how her parents had mourned so deeply they plumb forgot they had a daughter.

That was in the past. The future and adventure beckoned.

She handed the last dish to Ladd and dumped out the dishwater. “Are we ready?”

The boys cheered in affirmation and Allie merely nodded, but her eyes said she anticipated the outing as much as the boys.

They called goodbye to Linette and headed down the hill.

Thor, the tame fawn, saw the children and bounced over to join them, eliciting squeals of laughter from Allie.

Mercy stopped to let them enjoy the antics of the rapidly growing deer before they moved on. Soon Thor would disappear in the woods to join other deer, but she wouldn’t inform the children of that fact. Let them enjoy the pet while they could.

Thor bounced away in search of amusement elsewhere and Mercy shepherded the children onward.

She had them sit against the barn and showed them how to swing the rope overhead. How to drop it over a fence post. How to spin a circle of rope just above the ground and jump in and out of it. “I have lots more to learn,” she said.

“But you’re pretty good,” Allie said.

Ladd bounced to his feet. “You said you’d show me how to make the horse bow.”

It wasn’t exactly what she’d said but close enough. She’d spent a few days getting Nugget to follow the offer of a carrot until his head almost reached the ground. Then she’d taught him to pull one leg back and put the other forward. He was getting good at bowing. She figured he’d perform for Ladd and handed a carrot to the boy. “Stand here. Show him the carrot then lower it toward the ground. He’ll do the rest because he knows what to expect.” Nugget performed perfectly. “Now give him the carrot.”

Ladd held the carrot out but drew back as the horse tried to take it.

Mercy guided his hand so Nugget got his treat.

“What else can I make him do?” Ladd asked.

“Before I show you, maybe Grady and Allie would like to do a trick.” She held a hand toward the pair.

Grady jumped forward. “Can I get him to bow, too?”

“You sure can.” She repeated the trick with Grady and helped the boy feed Nugget his treat.

Allie stood nearby, rocking back and forth in anticipation. “Can I do something different?”

“What would you like to do?”

“Me and Ladd saw you standing on his back. Can I do that?”

Mercy considered the request. Nugget was still saddled and he wouldn’t protest, and if she held Allie, she could see no problem. The child would be perfectly safe. “I don’t see why not. Come on, I’ll show you how.”

She lifted the featherlight child to the saddle, placing her feet so she balanced then held her hand as she straightened. “There you go. What do you think?”

Allie giggled. “I’m a bird.” She held out her free arm.

A man came out of nowhere direct to Mercy’s side. Although alarmed at the sudden appearance, she held Allie firmly.

He lifted Allie from the horse and stepped back. “How dare you put my child at risk?”

“You! Mr. Abel Borgard, I presume. Haven’t we met before?” She didn’t much care for the dark expression on his face.

“And you would be...? Just so I know to avoid you in the future.”

“Mercy Newell. So pleased to make your acquaintance.” But her sarcasm was wasted on him.

“Papa,” Allie patted his cheek to get his attention.

“Yes, baby.”

Baby! This child was no baby. Why did he call her that? Worse, why did he treat her like an infant?

“It was fun,” Allie said. “And she held my hand really tight.”

“It was exceedingly foolish. Ladd, didn’t you think to say something?”

Ladd faced his father without a hint of fear. Or remorse. “Miss Mercy held her real good. She is smart about horses and—”

“Children are different than horses, Miss Mercy. Mrs. Gardiner knows I’ve come for the children. I’m taking them home.” He still carried Allie in one arm and took Ladd by his free hand. “Where they’ll be safe.” He hurried away.

Ladd and Allie sent Mercy pleading looks. She couldn’t say if they were silently apologetic or simply regretting that their enjoyment had been cut short. Regardless, something about their silent appeals released her own caution and she trotted after them, reaching Abel’s side before he made it to his horse. She grabbed his shoulder and forced him to stop.

“Sir, you are mistaken if you think I was about to let something happen to your children. I was only allowing them a bit of harmless fun. Everyone should be allowed to enjoy life and not shoved into a corner.”

He put Allie down and released Ladd. “You two go wait by the horse.”

They scampered away and stood watching the two adults.

Abel turned his back to the children. “Miss Newell, whether or not you agree with my choices on my children’s behalf is immaterial to me. But Allie has been very ill. Her heart has been damaged and the doctor says she must not get overly excited, nor can she be allowed to overexert herself. It could have very bad consequences.”

There was no mistaking the agony in his voice as he spoke those words and then he strode away, swung to the back of his horse and lifted the children, Ladd behind him, Allie sheltered in his arms.

How was she to have known about Allie? The last thing she would ever do was put a child at risk.

Abel reined his horse about. He was about to leave. She couldn’t let him go without trying to explain.

“Wait.” She raced to the head of the horse, forcing Abel to pull up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But believe me, I would never put a child in danger.”

Abel studied her a moment. Then he shifted his gaze to Allie. He cupped her head then reached back and pulled Ladd closer. He lifted his gaze to Mercy.

“So you say. But it is immaterial to me. My one and only concern is my children.”

She fell back, struck by the depth of emotion in his eyes.

“Whatever foolish thing you choose to do with your time is your business.” He rode away. Ladd lifted a hand in a wave.

Mercy stared after them, her insides churning. She knew the look in Abel’s eyes. Not because she remembered ever seeing it but because she had longed for it all her life. Instead, all she’d ever seen was indifference. Seems Butler was the only child who had mattered to her parents and when he died, Mercy became a necessary nuisance. She could never do enough to get them to acknowledge her. No matter how absurd her behavior.

She shook off the feeling.

She’d hoped she’d found the acceptance she longed for when, at seventeen, she fell in love with Ambrose, the preacher’s son. They’d enjoyed many adventures together. But after their romantic summer—oh, how mistaken she’d been about that—he’d introduced her to a sweet, young thing he identified as his fiancée. When Mercy confronted him, he said he couldn’t live with a person like her who longed for adventure. A man wanted to come home to peace and quiet, not restlessness. Mercy realized then that men, in general, preferred a woman to be invisible in her husband’s shadow. Mercy could never be that.

The circle of her thoughts widened. Wasn’t the Wild West show exactly the kind of thing she’d wanted since she was sixteen years old and watching Cleopatra’s Needle unveiling in London? They’d buried a time capsule beneath it that included pictures of the twelve most beautiful women. That struck her as unfair. What if a woman was born ugly? Was she to be ignored? What if she was beautiful but no one noticed? No, a person had to be able to do something to earn notice and value.

She would do something. She would join a Wild West show and perform for others. The audience would appreciate her skills. It didn’t matter what Mr. Abel Borgard thought.

Chapter Two

Abel held Allie tight as he rode toward the cabin. He found comfort in Ladd’s arms about his waist. Miss Mercy was a menace to his kids and likely to herself, though that didn’t concern him. It surprised him, however, that Eddie allowed such conduct. Like his parents said, “You reap what you sow. If you sow to the wind, you reap sorrow.” He’d learned the truth of their words the hard way. He’d left home at sixteen to follow a sin-filled path, thinking it meant excitement. It had led him to marriage with Ruby. She wanted to continue their wayward path but once the twins were born, Abel wanted only to provide them with safety and security. Poor Ruby hadn’t signed up for that sort of life. So she paid in frustration. With an unpredictable, unreliable mother, the twins paid, too, and unable to stop the train wreck of his marriage, Abel would likely spend the rest of his life making up for his foolish decisions.

And he would not allow Miss Mercy to undo the good he aimed to achieve by settling down and giving the twins a home like they’d never known.

The children were quiet on the trip home. He let them off in front of the cabin. “Go inside. I’ll be there as soon as I take care of Sam.” The faithful horse would get a few oats and some hay, which reminded him of another job awaiting him. He must find feed for the horse and the milk cow he hoped to obtain. This late in the year, locating feed would prove a challenge.

He returned to the cabin, ducking his head to enter. The inside was as inadequate as the door—barely big enough for a table, four chairs and a narrow bed. Beyond that, a corner of the roof had been damaged. He’d repaired it, but a good wind or a heavy snowfall would threaten the entire roof. He had to get a bigger, sturdier cabin built before winter set it.

Allie and Ladd stood shoulder to shoulder and watched as he hung his hat on a hook. He faced them. “What’s on your mind?”

“You were rude to Miss Mercy,” Allie said, her face wreathed in distress.

“Oh, honey. I was only concerned about you. Can you imagine how I felt to see you standing on the back of her horse?” His heart had punched his ribs with such force they still hurt.

“She wouldn’t let me fall.”

His daughter’s loyalty was commendable but misplaced.

Ladd nodded. “She let me and Grady make her horse bow. She knows what she’s doing. Someday she’s going to be in a Wild West show and I bet she’ll be the best person in the whole show.”

“Don’t say bet.” He spoke automatically as his thoughts raced. When had the twins ever been so passionate about defending anyone? Never, in his mind, though they often refused to reveal the truth about what Ruby had been doing in his absences. In that case he decided he preferred not to know too much so long as everyone was safe.

There seemed no point in continuing the discussion about Mercy’s reliability. “Who’d like bannock and beans?”

Soberly, they both nodded. “We do.”

Seeing as it was one of their favorite meals he expected slightly more enthusiasm, but he’d settle for changing the subject.

As he mixed up the ingredients for the bannock and put it in a cast-iron fry pan to bake in the oven, he told the children about his trip to the woods. “I need to get the logs in to build a nice cabin for us. Something bigger than this. And I need to chop firewood.” The enormity of what he had to accomplish in the few weeks before the snow came settled heavily on his shoulders. He didn’t need to deal with Mercy on top of it, yet she had become a fly buzzing about his head. He couldn’t go to the woods and leave the twins alone, but obviously taking them to the ranch had been a disaster. He didn’t have a lot of options open to him.

He warmed the beans and checked the bannock. “Almost ready. Anyone hungry?”

“I am.” Ladd’s answer was expected.

“Me, too.”

Abel jerked around to stare at Allie. “You’re hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Well.” That was good. Did it signal she would not have lasting damage from her illness? He swallowed back his reaction. He wished he could hope for her to someday be healthy, but the doctor had offered no such hope and Abel would not be taking any risks with her health.

He placed the food on the table and asked the blessing, then they dug in. Ladd ate heartily as usual but when Allie cleaned her plate and asked for seconds, Abel shook his head. “I can’t believe how much you’re eating. Are you okay?” His spine tightened. Did it mean she was getting better or did it signal something awful?

“I guess helping Mercy gave me an appetite.”

“See, she’s a good person. She made Allie feel better.” Ladd grinned as much as his sister.

Abel shook his head. “She does foolish things and there is always a price for foolish choices. Doing wild things leaves a person with regrets.”

The twins simultaneously put down their forks, placed their hands beside their plates and studied him with serious expressions. They turned to look at each other, then returned their gazes to him.

He felt their unasked questions and waited.

Ladd finally spoke. “Like Mama.”

He wasn’t sure what Ladd meant and didn’t want to guess. “What do you mean?”

Allie answered. “Mama said we were nothing but a nuisance.”

Ladd nodded. “A stone about her neck.”

“We were the payment for your wild life, she said.”

Oh, the pain he’d inflicted on these precious children. And, he admitted yet again, to Ruby. It was true. He’d changed his mind about what sort of life he wanted to live. She hadn’t. But it was the twins that mattered. And always had. How could he make up to them for the choices he’d made, or would they always pay?

He pushed his chair back. “Ladd, Allie, come here.” He patted his knees and the pair scrambled into his lap. Their arms cradled his neck and he wrapped his arms about them both and held them tight.

“I love you two deeper than the ocean, higher than the sky and wider than forever. You are the very best thing that has ever happened to me. I wouldn’t trade either of you for gold nuggets the size of this cabin.” His voice trembled with the enormity of his love for them. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

“We won’t,” they chorused as they burrowed into his shirtfront.

He held them close as long as they would allow, but all too soon they wriggled away. “Get ready for bed while I clean the kitchen. Then I’ll read to you.”

A few minutes later, Ladd lay on the narrow bed he would share with Abel, and Allie crawled under the covers of the trundle bed right beside them.

“First, let’s say our prayers.”

The children closed their eyes and murmured their usual prayers, asking for blessings on the people in their lives. But then Ladd added, “And thank You for Mercy. I like her.”

Before Abel could protest, Allie added, “Bless Miss Mercy and help her be the best Wild West person ever. Amen.”

“Children, I don’t think you should be including Mercy in your prayers.” He hated to say it. Knew it didn’t make for sound theology.

Allie gave a gentle smile. “I think God would approve. He loves her, too, you know.”

What could he say? The child was right. And yet her defense of Mercy worried Abel. The woman signified danger for his children. But he simply said, “I suppose He does at that,” then opened the storybook he’d been reading to them.

This was his favorite time of the entire day. And he didn’t intend to let a certain wild woman ruin it for him.

He read for a few minutes as the children grew drowsy, then closed the book and prepared to tiptoe away, though he could only move a few feet before he ran out of space.

“Papa?”

“Yes, son?”

“Mercy is the smartest woman ever and would never do anything foolish.”

Abel’s sense of contentment and well-being crashed. Mercy again! How had she so quickly and thoroughly beguiled his children? He had to keep her away from them. How hard could it be? Yes, he needed help with the children. But he’d take them to Linette and leave instructions that they were to stay away from Mercy and she from them.

It was simple enough. Linette would surely understand and agree. Beside, how could she refuse if he gave instructions?

* * *

The next morning, Linette and Grady were sick with colds and Linette didn’t think it was wise for the twins to come for the day.

Mercy would deliver the message to Abel on her behalf, and then maybe she’d never see the man again. She could certainly live without his scorn. Yes, he had his reasons for concern over his daughter. Momentarily she felt a silly sense of longing at his affection for his kids. But more and more his final words churned inside her head. Foolish ways, indeed! Humph. He’d soon see firsthand how foolish she was when she became a star in a Wild West show. Not that she cared what he thought or whether he ever saw her perform.

She passed through the clearing that surrounded the ranch site and climbed the hill toward his cabin. Soon she entered the woods, where the cooler air made her pull her jacket tighter.

A dark shadow to her right caught her attention and as it slipped out of sight, her nerves tingled. An animal of some sort. Her pearl-handled pistols were stowed in her saddlebags, but she mostly used blanks in them. However, she had a business pistol and a rifle and both were loaded. She palmed the pistol and kept alert. Again she noticed the shadow. It passed so far to her right she wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been watching so carefully. Whatever it was followed her. Her skin prickled. This required further investigation. She guided Nugget off the trail, dismounted and slid through the trees toward the shadow, her gun at the ready. She paused and listened. There came a rustle of leaves as they fell to the ground to join the other yellowed and browned ones. Wind whispered through the trees. Birds cooed and called.

Then a metallic click froze her blood.

“Drop your gun and turn around real slow.”

She considered the order for about two seconds. But, knowing she had few options, she obeyed and with her arms raised to indicate she didn’t pose any danger, she turned to confront a man, short of stature, wide of beam with enough black whiskers to cover most of him for the winter.

“Why you sneaking up on me?” he demanded in a voice that sounded like he used his throat to store nails.

“Seems I didn’t do any sneaking up on anyone.”

“Only ’cause I’m better ’n you in the woods.”

Her grin felt crooked. “You are that all right.”

“Sure am. Now why you following me?”

“I didn’t know it was you, now did I? I thought it might be a wolf.”

He made a derisive sound. “And if it was, were you figuring to shoot him with that?” He nodded at her pistol on the ground.

“I figured to scare him off.”

“Missy, you sure are a greenhorn. What if I’d been a bear?” He lowered the gun and hooted like he enjoyed finding someone so foolish. There was that word again. It burned clear up her throat that she’d inadvertently proved Abel’s opinion of her. Not that he’d ever know.

“I guess in hindsight, I was a little careless.” She let her hands fall to her side and her breath eased out when he didn’t object. “Who are you?”

The man’s dark eyes narrowed. “Ain’t none of yer business. Just leave me alone if you know what’s good for ya.”

“Gladly. Now can I go?”

“Where ya going?”

“Don’t see that’s any of your business.”

He waved the gun as if to remind her he had the upper hand.

She shrugged. “Just delivering a message to a man, then I’m going about my own business.” She emphasized the final two words.

“Then git. And forget you ever saw me.”

She started away.

“Not that you’ll ever see me again.”

“Suits me fine,” she muttered when she was well out of hearing. The woods were getting overrun with crazy men.

As she continued on her journey, something about the whiskered man bothered her. She’d seen him somewhere. But where? She couldn’t place him. Had it been under good circumstances or bad? Was he a danger, or harmless except for his craziness? She shrugged. What difference did it make? He was likely only passing through.

She reached Abel’s cabin. His horse stood saddled and waiting. He opened the door as she approached, the twins at his side. As soon as he saw who it was he eased the children back to the cabin and pulled the door closed.

She gritted his teeth. A person could almost think he didn’t welcome her presence. Almost? It couldn’t have been plainer unless he hung a big sign over the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Although his words were polite enough and his tone moderate, she felt the sharp edge of each syllable, and if not for her concern for Linette and Grady she would have reined Nugget around and left him to find out on his own her reason for coming. Instead, she swallowed a huge amount of resistance. “I brought a message from Linette. She and Grady are sick with colds and she asked you not to bring the children today.”

The harshness in his face fled, replaced with concern. “I trust they are not seriously ill.”

“Me, too.” Mercy’s heart had clenched at the thought of a sick child, but Linette assured her it was only a cold and normal for this time of year.

“Thank her for letting me know. I wouldn’t want Allie to get sick.”

“That’s what Linette said.”

The door creaked open and two little heads peeked out. “Hello, Miss Mercy,” the twins called.

“Hello, you two. How are you?”

“Good, thank you,” Allie said.

“Papa, are you going to take us with you to the woods now?” Ladd asked.

Abel looked toward the sky. The clouds had been thickening all morning. “I can’t. It looks like rain.”

Or snow, Mercy added silently.

“Then what are you going to do?” Ladd’s voice carried a huge dose of worry. “You said you had to get logs. Papa, we’ll be okay by ourselves. Won’t we, Allie?”

Allie nodded her head and looked determined.

“I’ll take care of Allie.” Ladd’s voice carried a hefty dose of concern.

Mercy’s eyes stung at Ladd’s sense of loyalty and responsibility. From the far recesses of her memory came a picture. She was about four, which would make Butler six. He’d held her hand tight as he helped her cross a bridge. As she looked at the memory, she realized there had never been any danger. The bridge was plenty wide enough that she wouldn’t fall off but only Butler’s hand had given her the courage to venture across.

Ladd’s promise to protect his sister reminded her of that moment.

Abel sighed deeply. “I really need to get those logs home.”

Was he going to leave the kids alone? “How old are you?” she asked them.

“Nine,” they answered together.

“But we’re very responsible,” Ladd assured her.

Mercy thought of the whiskered man in the woods. “Why don’t I stay with the children?” What had prompted her to make such an offer? He’d refuse without even considering it. After all, he’d made his opinion of her very plain. Foolish. The word stuck in her throat.

“Oh, please, Papa. Please.” Allie clasped her hands in a beseeching gesture and rounded her blue eyes.

Mercy hid a grin. Anyone who could deny such a plea would have to have a heart of stone.

“It’s an excellent idea, don’t you think, Papa?” Ladd added reasonableness to the request.

Mercy chewed her lip to keep from revealing her amusement.

Abel had his back to her, considering his children. Slowly he turned and faced her. His mouth drew back in a frown. Lines gouged his cheeks.

Even before he spoke, she knew he’d refuse.

Then Ladd tugged at his arm and Abel turned back to the children.

“Papa, you know you don’t have many days before winter.”

“You’re right, but still—” His shoulders rose and fell. He caught Allie’s chin. “Baby, you have to promise to take it easy.”

“I will, Papa.”

He placed his hand on Ladd’s head. “Sunshine, you have to promise to watch your sister.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And no Wild West stuff.”

Mercy coughed. “Shouldn’t you be giving me the instructions?”

He faced her, rather reluctantly, she figured. “I will accept your offer but only because I’m desperate. It’s late in the season to be starting out and I must make up for lost time.”

“My,” she said, sighing as she pressed a palm to her chest, “your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

Allie giggled, then seemed to think better of it and smothered it with her hand.

Abel’s eyes narrowed. They were the same dark blue as his son’s, Mercy noted. And he had the same unruly dark blond hair half controlled by his hat. “You can put your horse in the pen.” He nodded in the general direction. “And thank you for offering to watch the children.”

His thanks was so begrudging that she laughed as she reined about and took care of Nugget.

He was in his saddle when she sauntered back to the cabin. “The children know where everything is. If you need anything, ask them.” But he made no motion toward leaving.

She favored him with the most innocent, sweet look she could manage when inside she bounced back and forth between amusement and annoyance. “We’ll do just fine. Don’t worry.” She knew full well that every minute he was gone he would worry she might do something foolish. Some rebellious portion of herself that she’d never tamed urged her to add, “I’ll try not to do anything foolish.”

At the look on his face, she laughed.

Ladd and Allie stood in the doorway. “We’ll be good, Papa. Truly we will.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He rode away.

Mercy didn’t wait for him to disappear from sight before she shepherded the twins inside and closed the door. “It’s getting colder by the minute,” she said by way of explanation for her hurry. She’d never been in the cabin before. Hadn’t been the least bit interested in it. Now she glanced around taking in every detail. Which didn’t take more than a minute. The cabin was smaller than Jayne and Seth’s. Only one tiny room. The small cookstove would more than heat the place on most days. She expected by the time the fire was hot enough to boil water the room would be hot enough to make a grown man drip with sweat. Only one tiny window allowed in light. The few shelves lining the wall overflowed with books, clothing, hardware. One corner of the ceiling had a definite sway to it. She recalled noticing damage to the roof outside. Abel had real cause for hurry if he meant to give these children a warm, safe place for the winter and she knew he did.

“What would you like to do?” she asked the pair.

“I’m not supposed to do anything,” Allie said, a little tremor in her voice.

“Your father said you were to take it easy. There are still lots of things you can do.”

“Like what?” Both children leaned forward, eagerness in every muscle.

She looked about. “Lots of things.” And she’d dream them up in the next few minutes.

She’d prove to Mr. Abel Borgard that she could be trusted not to act foolishly. Not that she ever did. No matter what his opinion of her activities.

Chapter Three

Abel considered the work he’d accomplished. Trees selected for the cabin and cut down. Some firewood gathered. Despite the crisp air, he worked with his shirtsleeves rolled up, sweat trickling down his back. Today held more urgency than just the approaching winter. Mercy was back at the cabin with his children and his nerves tingled at the idea. He’d only seen the woman twice and both times her behavior had given his heart a fit. Would he get home to find the children swinging from the rafters or jumping off the bed?

He swung his ax with renewed vigor. The best thing he could do was get as much work done in as little time as possible.

A few minutes later he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. That’s when his neck muscles twitched. Something or someone watched him. He could feel it. He jerked about. A dark shadow ducked into the bushes. But not before he’d seen enough to know it was not an animal but a squat man with a dark beard down to his chest.

His heart did a persistent two-step inside his chest, making it hard to get a decent breath.

He pretended to study a tree as if considering how best to chop it down, hoping he’d see the man again. He didn’t much care for someone to be spying on him, but at least if Abel could see him he’d know the children were safe. Maybe he should forget getting logs and head back.

He warred between the urgency of his task and the need to assure himself of the children’s safety.

One simple fact persuaded him to return to swinging his ax.

Mercy had a gun—he’d seen the bulge in her jacket as she returned to the cabin after penning her horse. He had no doubt she knew how to use it. Nor did he think she would hesitate to do so if the need arose. She’d probably jump at the chance.

He chuckled softly as he realized her foolish behavior provided him with a bit of comfort at the moment.

Twice more he glimpsed the dark shadow of the man. What kind of person spied on another? But after a bit he stopped worrying about the mysterious man, who did nothing to make Abel feel threatened. And as long as he was content to watch Abel, those back at the cabin were safe.

He worked steadily into the afternoon, pausing briefly only to drink from his canteen, chow down a sandwich or wipe his brow. As the shadows lengthened, he headed back to the cabin. He’d seen no sign of the intruder for the past hour and hoped the man had left the vicinity. But he wouldn’t be completely at ease until he reached the cabin and saw the twins for himself.

He tended Sam first, knowing he would not want to return to the job once he entered the cabin. He put the saddle and blanket in the little shed that offered a modicum of protection, then crossed the yard, threw open the door and ducked inside.

The aroma that greeted him filled his mouth with saliva. How pleasant to come home to a hot meal after a hard day of work. He’d always hoped Ruby would change, would someday decide she liked being married, liked being a mother, liked tending the home. It had never happened and now it was too late for dreams. He would never again risk his children’s happiness for the hope of a happy home, and certainly not for the sake of a hot meal. Though it would be pleasant to have something besides beans and bannock for a change.

“The place is getting cold,” Mercy said, reminding him he stood in the open doorway.

He closed the door and swung the children off their feet in a big hug. He studied each face. No guilt on either. No heightened color in Allie’s cheeks. That was good. And no one mentioned a whiskered man visiting. The last of his tension slipped away.

“Your supper is ready.” Mercy shrugged. “I thought you might be hungry.” She slipped past him and snagged her jacket from the hook by the door. “I’ll be on my way.”

“Do you think Mrs. Gardiner and her son will be recovered by tomorrow?”

Mercy gave him a look so full of disbelief he felt a little foolish. “I wouldn’t think so. It usually takes a few days to get over a cold, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so.” Abel’s thoughts raced. He still had a lot of work to do and he couldn’t leave the children unsupervised while he was away. He looked about again. The children were in one piece. A meal awaited him. That left him one option. He made up his mind and had to act quickly before he thought better of it.

“Can I persuade you to work for me until such time as the children can go to the ranch again? I’ll pay you a fair wage.”

The children grabbed his hands and grinned up at him then turned to Mercy.

“Please, Mercy,” they chorused.

He wondered if he should correct the way they addressed her but, instead, he waited for her to answer, finding himself as tense and eager as they seemed to be. Eager? No. Simply desperate.

Mercy looked at each of the children, then brought her gaze to him, regarding him steadily as if daring him to voice any objection to the way she had managed.

He couldn’t and returned her look for look, noting, for the first time, the deep brown of her eyes and how her mahogany hair framed a very pretty face.

“I enjoyed spending the day with the children,” she said, smiling at them. Her smile disappeared as she again looked at him. “I’d love to come as long as they need me.”

“Thank you.” It was only for the children, he silently repeated. She made it clear she felt the same way. Not that it mattered to him one little bit.

“I’ll return in the morning then.” She brushed her fingers across Allie’s cheek and then Ladd’s. “See you two tomorrow.” And she left without a word of farewell to him.

Not that he cared, he insisted. But the tiny cabin seemed empty...a feeling that intensified after the twins went to bed.

Determined to dismiss such irrational thoughts, he pulled the Bible off the shelf and read it. His parents had raised him to look for answers to life’s problem in the words of scripture and to obey unquestioningly the precepts set out there. Since the twins’ births he had found strength and guidance in the pages of the Bible, just as his parents had taught.

But tonight he found no solution for the restlessness that plagued him.

Finally he gave up and prepared for bed. Thankfully the cold air and hard work of the day enabled him to fall into a sound sleep.

The next morning, the children could barely be persuaded to stay in bed long enough for him to start the fire and take the chill off the room.

“When will Mercy be here?” Allie asked for the twentieth time.

“Let’s have breakfast first.” He tried to corral them both to sit at the table, but they kept bouncing up to throw open the door and see if Mercy approached.

After a few such interruptions, Abel grew annoyed. “Miss Mercy is only helping for a few days. You’re simply asking for trouble if you think it’s anything more.”

Wide-eyed and disbelieving, the twins stared at him.

“Didn’t she say she meant to join a Wild West show?” he added to press home his point.

Their gazes grew wary.

“That means she’ll be traveling all over the country, living with the others in the show.” It sounded like a restless sort of life he wouldn’t welcome. He’d tried it already and knew it offered adventure but gave only emptiness. But to each her own. “You won’t see her much after that.”

Allie brightened. “We could go with her.”

He blinked before the eagerness in his daughter’s expression. “You could not.” What a dreadful, sordid life for a child.

Ladd sighed long. “She’s not going for a while. She might change her mind after she gets to know us better.” His shoulders sagged. “But she’s very good. I guess she won’t change her mind.”

“There you go.” Abel should be relieved that they’d accepted the facts of Mercy’s friendship but, instead, he felt as if he had jerked a rug out from under their feet.

A noise against the side of the cabin snapped Abel’s head in that direction. Both children bolted to their feet. “Mercy,” they yelled.

He grabbed two arms and planted the pair firmly back in their chairs. “Mercy would not be rubbing against the house. Sit here and be quiet.” He grabbed his rifle from over the door. If that whiskered man from the woods thought to bother Abel and his children...

“Don’t shoot her,” Allie whispered.

“Sit and be still.” He tiptoed to the door, quietly opened it and inched out far enough to see the side of the cabin. A deer. They sure could use fresh meat, but he wouldn’t shoot an animal with his children watching. Besides, this was a doe. He’d find a buck out in the woods. He signaled to the children to come and held his finger to his lips so they’d know enough to be quiet.

They joined him.

“Awww,” Allie whispered, the faint noise startling the doe, who bounced into the trees and disappeared.

Allie stared after her. “What did she want?”

He shepherded them back inside though the wind was still and the air promised a warm day. “I don’t know. Maybe she is curious. Maybe she’s been here before when no one lived here.”

“Maybe she thinks this is her house.” Allie looked about ready to burst into tears.

“No, baby. I don’t think so. Deer like to be among the trees. They don’t live in buildings.”

Allie sniffled. “You’re sure?”

“Very.”

Ladd had remained at the door. “Here she comes.”

Abel didn’t have to look up to understand he meant Mercy. Allie raced to join her brother. Abel took his time going to their side, though truthfully he was as relieved as the twins to see her ride to the cabin. But only because he needed to take advantage of the autumn weather while it lasted.

She called, “Hello,” then led her horse to the corral.

Which gave him almost enough time to convince himself he only cared because he had work to do and her presence would enable him to get at it. Besides, he still wasn’t persuaded the twins were completely safe with her. What if she decided to shoot her guns off? Or race her horse around with the twins on its back?

He hurried inside to get his coat and hat and leave before she entered the tiny space. They met at the doorway.

She carried a bulging gunnysack.

Both curiosity and caution stopped him in his tracks. “What’s in there?” He couldn’t keep the ring of suspicion from his voice.

She chuckled. “You needn’t sound like you wonder if I’ve brought knives to let the children throw. Or guns to shoot.”

He worked to hide his discomfort; she’d correctly gauged his concern. “I am their only parent.”

“Yup. I figured that out. Relax. I merely brought some things to keep the children occupied. See for yourself.” She opened the sack and held it out for him to peer in.

Papers, books, cookies? His mouth watered. How long since he’d had cookies? He swallowed back the saliva and nodded. “Looks harmless enough.”

“I keep telling you I am not so foolish as to do something to hurt a child.”

He looked at her and saw the way she tried to hide her emotion. But she didn’t quite succeed. Her lips tightened slightly and her eyes were too wide.

With a stab in his gut, he realized he’d hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest you would.” Yet hadn’t he, despite how well she’d done yesterday? The children had told him about their day in great detail. How they’d shown her all the things he’d bought before their arrival—new clothes, food and winter supplies. They’d shown her their books and their few toys. Told him how they’d played a fun game of pretend family, then she’d let them help her prepare the meals.

His suspicion was unfounded. Yet his caution must remain. He had to keep the children safe. And somehow he knew Mercy was a risk to them. And to him, too, though he couldn’t say why he included himself. He had no intention of letting any woman upset the stability he’d worked so hard to establish for the children. Especially a woman whose stated goal was to join a Wild West show. He’d had enough of women who wanted only to run off for whatever reason.

His jaw creaked as he warned himself of all the dangers he invited into his life by asking Mercy to watch the children, but he didn’t see what else he could do at the moment.

It would only be for a day or two, he told himself, then he’d insist Mercy stay away from all of them.

* * *

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.

What was wrong with the pair of them?

They didn’t much care for each other and yet... She shook her head again.

It must be the autumn sunshine so warm and deceptive when everyone knew it could change overnight. The temporary delay had lulled them all into a make-believe state.

She turned her attention back to the children. It was time to enjoy the present and forget the unexplainable.

Chapter Four

Abel shook his head several times as he returned to work. What had made him stop in the middle of a sunny afternoon to share tea and cookies with Mercy and the children? He couldn’t afford to waste daylight when winter was hard on his heels.

He’d observed Mercy and the children a few minutes without them seeing him. The three of them sharing a picnic. Such a domestic scene. Mercy bending her head toward Ladd and then Allie as they talked. Touching their heads and laughing. The twins drinking her in with their eyes.

His throat had tightened. This happy scene was all he’d dreamed of since the twins were born. Only he’d hoped Ruby would be the one sharing the moment with the children. And he would be right at her side.

Mercy did not fit into the picture he imagined. She wore loose trousers. All the easier to ride in. Mercy obviously did not care about following any rules in her life. Remember, he warned himself, this woman wants to join a Wild West show.

Yet as their gazes connected across the clearing, he seemed unable to remember his arguments. He tried to pull his thoughts into order as he unhooked the logs. This woman was different from Ruby only in her upbringing. Certainly not in what she wanted from life. He and the children didn’t count in her plans. He must bear that in mind.

Then her gaze had snagged his again like some kind of rope trick—demanding, probing, searching...for what he could not say, but he felt as if she reached into his chest and sought to squeeze truth from his heart. How silly. He’d been nothing but truthful with her.

He spent the rest of the afternoon working in the woods. Despite his best efforts to the contrary, his thoughts kept harking back to the cabin and the trio on the quilt enjoying the sunshine. He straightened at the truth he’d discovered—they enjoyed each other while he worked alone. He shook his head at how foolish his thoughts had grown. Of course he worked alone. And the children were safe at home. That’s what he wanted. Only he felt isolated.

He bent his back to the task and swung his ax with renewed vigor. He didn’t let up until the late afternoon shadows lengthened. He knew he must return if he hoped for Mercy to reach the ranch before dark.

He should warn her of the whiskered man, he realized now. Even her guns and rope would be useless if this man in the woods got the drop on her.

Anxious to get back, he hurried Sam onward. Again, as he’d done earlier in the day, he paused before those at the cabin noticed his presence. Immediately, he saw Mercy. It was hard to miss her. She rode her fancy palomino. The horse reared back on his hind legs as she twirled a rope around the pair of them.

Like Allie said, she made a glorious sight. The words fire and flash sprang to his mind.

Then he saw the children against the cabin wall, clapping. Allie’s eyes were bright, her color heightened. Abel’s throat clenched tight. She was overexcited. Hadn’t he warned Mercy about this?

He dropped the reins and raced to Allie to scoop her into his arms. He brushed his hand across her face, swept her hair from her forehead. Was she warmer than she should be? “Come along,” he said to Ladd, and strode toward the cabin. He put Allie on a chair. “Stay here.” He turned to Ladd. “You stay with her.” He returned outdoors.

Mercy had dismounted and led her horse toward him.

He strode toward her. His insides churned and his fists clenched at his sides. “Do you have no concern for my children? Are you interested only in an audience for your riding?” He sucked in air to refill his lungs.

She opened her mouth.

Before she could get a word out, he held his hand toward her, silencing her.

“Did you not see how excited Allie was? Did you not notice her bright cheeks?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you could be so careless. I simply can’t allow you near my children.”

She tilted her head and gave him a hard look.

“Have it your way,” she said, her voice hard as rock. “I’m tired of explaining myself. Do you mind if I get my things?” She stalked past him without waiting for his answer.

He followed her and saw the children, wide-eyed and stiff.

Mercy knelt before them, caught their chins and pulled them to face her.

Allie, lips trembling, said, “You can’t go.”

Ladd gave his father a burning look, then shifted his attention to Mercy. “I like you here.”

“I must go. Be good.” She kissed them both on the forehead, grabbed her sack and jacket then strode from the house. She swung into her saddle and reined about. At the edge of the clearing she had the horse rear on his back legs. “Goodbye, Mr. Borgard.”

This afternoon he’d been Abel, and now Mr. Borgard. Alone again. Though why he thought it had ever changed defied explanation.

He watched until she rode out of sight before he returned to the cabin and the two children watching him with wide eyes and stubborn mouths.

“What do you want for supper?”

Tears welled up in Allie’s eyes. “Mercy said she’d make us vegetable soup. But now—” Her voice quivered. “You chased her away.”

Ladd clattered to his feet. “She wasn’t doing nothin’ wrong. You’re mad just ’cause she likes to do fun stuff.” He glowered at Abel.

Abel sighed. “You both know how careful Allie has to be. Do you want her sick again?” He directed his question to Ladd.

The boy’s anger faltered as he considered his sister. He shook his head, then faced Abel squarely. “We were only watching.”

Abel didn’t intend to argue with his son. “I have to do what I think is best.”

“Mama said you forgot how to have fun. She was right.”

Abel ignored the boy’s comment. Better to let them blame him than to realize the truth that Ruby cared more about her fun than her children. “Who wants bannock and beans?”

“I want vegetable soup.” Allie crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

Abel sighed. “So bannock and beans it is.”

The evening did not get better and he was happy when the time came to tuck them in. They still refused to forgive him despite the fact he’d done nothing that required forgiveness.

And then he faced the lonely evening. Only then did he remember he had meant to warn Mercy of the man in the woods. He slipped outside and closed the door behind him. Had she gotten back safely? He strained to listen for any unusual noise in the woods. When he heard only coyotes howling and night birds calling he told himself he was being silly. Of course she’d gotten back safely. Surely someone would let him know otherwise.

He returned inside and prepared for bed but, despite his weariness, sleep did not come easily. How was he going to get a bigger cabin built and firewood brought in?

Still, hadn’t he planned to manage on his own when he moved here? Really nothing had changed.

Only his wish that things could be different. But even that wasn’t new. He’d wanted something more all his life. When he was sixteen he’d thought he’d find it in abandoning the principles his parents had taught him. When he married Ruby, he thought he’d find it with her. After the twins were born, he thought he’d find it in being a father and returning to his faith in God.

And yet... He dismissed the errant thought.

It was in obeying God and living a careful life and looking after the twins that he would find what he wanted.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was that Mercy had been glorious, all fire and flash. He meant to argue to the contrary but instead fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

His smile turned upside down the next day as he contemplated his work. The sky hung heavy with clouds threatening rain and making it impossible to consider taking the twins with him to the woods. That meant he must stay close to the cabin. Right after breakfast he went to the logs he had dragged in—the ones meant for firewood—and cut and stacked a supply.

The children stayed inside where they would be warm and dry. He returned to the cabin after a couple of hours to check on them and get a drink.

As he stepped through the door they both gave him accusing looks.

“There’s nothing to do,” Ladd said in his most disgruntled voice.

Allie nodded. “If Mercy was here she’d play games.”

“Or tell good stories,” Ladd added, with heavy emphasis on the word good, as if to say her stories were much better than any Abel had read or told.

He gave them both considered study before he said, “Or do something wild and woolly like this was part of Mr. Robert’s Circus Side Show.” He named a traveling circus.

Allie’s eyes gleamed and pink filled her cheeks. “That was the best of all.”

The mere mention of it overexcited his daughter. “It’s not good for you.” He downed a dipper of water and returned to the pile of wood. He wasn’t arguing with a pair of disappointed nine-year-olds. They didn’t know what was good for them. Even sixteen-year-olds couldn’t know. Wasn’t he proof of that?

At the end of the day, the twins ate their meals in accusing silence and went to bed without being told. Ladd reached over the edge of the cot and held Allie’s hand.

Their displeasure with Abel festered. But what choice did he have? He sat alone after they’d fallen asleep and faced his quandary. Without help, he would have to abandon plans to build a bigger cabin. They could spend the winter in this one just fine, if he had enough firewood to ward off the cold. On nicer days he could take the children to the woods with him, but how many nice days could he count on? As if to answer his question, the wind moaned through the treetops. God in heaven, I’m counting on You to help me. Maybe even send—he didn’t finish the request. Send someone to help. Mercy certainly wasn’t an answer to prayer.

He woke slowly the next morning. His eyelids didn’t want to face the day. His limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. But lying abed would not solve his problems.

He sighed and rolled over. The bed beside him was empty. He patted both sides to make sure. His eyelids jerked open. Where was Ladd? In the weak light Allie looked at him from her trundle bed, eyes wide and watchful.

He scanned the cabin. Ladd wasn’t there. The small quarters offered no hiding place, but he sat up and looked about again to make sure he hadn’t missed the boy.

“Where’s Ladd?” he asked Allie.

“Gone.”

“Gone?” Any remnant of sleep vanished as his blood raced through his veins. He grabbed his trousers and pulled them on under privacy of the covers. “Where?”

“To get Mercy. We want her to look after us. ’Sides, you need her here so you can get logs.” She sat in the middle of her bed and watched him as calm as could be while his arms turned leaden and he couldn’t seem to get them into the sleeves of his shirt.

“Mercy? She’s six miles away. When did he leave?” He peered out the window. The sun had not yet risen but cold gray light filled the clearing. Had his son ventured out in the dark? Was he lost? What about that whiskered man?

He pulled on his jacket and grabbed his rifle. But at the door he stopped. He couldn’t leave Allie here alone and wouldn’t take her out in the damp cold.

His lungs so tight he could hardly force in air, he faced the door. All he could do for the moment was pray. Oh, God, keep my boy safe. As soon as the sun drove back the chill, he would bundle Allie to her teeth and take her with him to find Ladd.

* * *

Mercy tiptoed from her room. If Abel didn’t want her help with the children, that was fine. It gave her more time to practice. She wanted to be able to twirl a big enough circle with her rope that she could swing it up and down over both herself and Nugget. She’d tried the day before yesterday. That’s when Abel had shown up all glower and snort. He didn’t bother to take into account that the children were content to sit quietly as they watched her. Nope. He simply ordered her off the place.

She missed the children. But she surely wouldn’t miss dealing with a man like Abel any more than she’d miss stabbing herself in the eye with a hot needle.

Carrying her boots so as not to disturb Linette and Grady, who were still miserable with their colds, she glided down the hall and creaked open the door. She glanced back at the stairs to make sure she hadn’t wakened them and slipped through the opening.

She turned and screamed as someone stood on the step before her. Heart in her mouth, she managed to croak out a greeting. “Ladd, you gave me a fright.” She looked past him as she pulled on her boots, expecting to see Abel and Allie. “Where’s your papa?”

Ladd ducked his head. “He was sleeping when I left.”

Mercy heard the words but they made no sense. “Left where?”

“Home.”

Surely he didn’t mean— “You mean the cabin?”

“Uh-huh. I promised Allie I would come and get you.” He grabbed her hand. “You have to come. Please. It was so boring without you. Allie even cried a little.”

She stared at the boy. “Does your papa know where you are?”

“Allie said she’d tell him.”

“But it’s barely light. How did you get here?”

“I followed the trail, but it was hard to see.” He glanced beyond her. “Someone helped me.”

Someone? So far as she knew the men were all on the roundup and the women tucked safely in their beds. Except for that whiskered man she’d seen. “What did this someone look like?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t see him. He carried me and left me there.” Ladd pointed toward the barn. “I might have got lost if he didn’t help me. Actually, I think it was God helping.”

None of what the boy said made sense. Except one thing. His father didn’t know where he was. Or if he was safe.

“You must be hungry. Come in.” She opened the door and herded him to the kitchen, where she sliced a thick slab of bread and spread syrup on it.

Linette came into the room as he ate. Mercy drew her into the hall and explained Ladd’s presence. “I have to get him back as soon as possible. Abel will be frantic with worry. His children mean more to him than anything in the world.”

“You go. And don’t let the man chase you away again. He needs your help even if he won’t admit it.”

“And he won’t.” But she couldn’t let her annoyance at his rude dismissal matter at the moment. She returned to Ladd’s side. “While you finish eating I’m going to saddle Nugget.”

He nodded. “Be sure to bring some books and maybe cookies.”

She chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Linette followed her down the hall. “I’ll keep an eye on him until you return.”

“Thanks.” She trotted down the hill and saddled Nugget then rode him back to the house. Ladd came out and she swung him up behind her.

They rode down the trail toward the little cabin. Every one of Mercy’s senses was alert for any strangers in the woods, although she saw nothing out of the ordinary. As they neared the cabin, Abel rushed to their side. He swung Ladd down and hugged him, remaining so close to Mercy’s side she couldn’t dismount.

He put Ladd on his feet, then reached up and lifted Mercy down. Even though she didn’t need his assistance, she saw no point in arguing with the distraught man.

He didn’t release her when her feet hit the ground but hugged her equally hard as he’d hugged Ladd. Then he held her at arm’s length.

“Thank you.” His voice was deep with emotion.

They studied each other. She couldn’t say what he thought or felt except for the way his eyes darkened, which could indicate regret or any of a dozen things.

But his firm hands on her shoulders, the unexpected solid comfort of his chest and the warmth of his breath on her cheeks as he thanked her cut a wide swath through invisible barriers she’d been unaware existed. Something made her want to return to his embrace. Strangely, she felt safe in his arms. How ridiculous! She hadn’t ever needed or wanted or received such foolish comfort. Her parents had never offered it. But a little voice from her depths pleaded for more of it.

Whoa...he wasn’t offering it intentionally. He merely was grateful that she’d returned his son.

She stepped back out of his reach. “He’s fine.”

“Ladd,” Abel said. “Go see your sister. She worried.” He waited until the door closed behind the boy. “Where did you find him?”

“On my doorstep.”

“He made it all the way to the ranch?”

She nodded, watching the emotions on his face change from worry to disbelief. “How is that possible? It was dark and a fair hike for a child.”

“He said a man picked him up and carried him.”

Worry wrinkled his brow. “I’ve seen someone in the woods. A short, stocky man. I meant to warn you about him.”

“I’ve seen someone, too. A man with lots of whiskers.”

“Sounds like it could be the same person.” Abel scrubbed a hand over his hair, tangling it.

If she wasn’t so concerned and confused at both his actions and her reactions she might have chuckled at how he messed his hair.

“I wonder who he is and what he wants,” Abel said.

“I don’t know, though I’m certain I’ve seen him somewhere before. I just can’t place where or when.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“I did. I know I should recognize him.”

“Would you have seen his likeness on a wanted poster?”

She considered the question. “I don’t know. I wish I could place him.” She shrugged. “But if it was he who helped Ladd we can be grateful he didn’t harm him instead.”

Abel shuddered. “I don’t like it.” He messed his hair again and then, as if realizing what he’d done, he smoothed it. “The man could be crazy.”

She’d momentarily shared the same thought but immediately dismissed it. A person should be judged on evidence, not on suspicion or caution. “Or maybe he likes living in the woods. Or for all we know, he has a cabin of his own.”

“Wouldn’t Eddie know if that is so?”

She gave silence assent.

“Has he ever mentioned this man?”

She shook her head.

“Then we’ll have to be cautious and on guard.”

We? When had they become we?

“Anyway. Thank you for bringing him home safely.”

“You’re welcome.”

He smiled.

She knew her eyes widened but she couldn’t help herself. His smile transformed his features and made him look...well, nice.

“Please come in.”

“My horse...”

“I’ll tend to him later.”

She let herself be ushered to the door five steps away, let him reach around her and hold it open for her to precede him.

“Did you ask her?” Allie demanded.

Mercy knew what Allie wanted, but Abel hadn’t asked.

He took her coat as she slipped her arms out. He hung it next to his and went to the stove. “Have you had breakfast?”

“No.” Ladd had interrupted her plans for the day. Not that she minded.

“Then join us. We haven’t eaten yet.”

“Thank you.”

“But first I have a son to deal with.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Ladd to his knee to face him. “I’m happy you’re safe, but what you did was foolish and against the rules.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Haven’t I told you that there is a price to pay for foolish and sinful choices?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“There is no escaping. The Bible says, ‘Be sure your sin will find you out and whatsoever a man soweth he shall reap.’ I simply want to save you the pain and sorrow of reaping a bad harvest. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Papa.” Ladd spoke softly, his head bowed.

“You know I must punish you.”

“I know.”

Mercy wondered what form of punishment Abel had in mind. She’d witnessed how rigid he was about rules. Would he mete out unmerciful judgment?

“After breakfast, you will clean up the kitchen and do the dishes by yourself, and while you’re doing it I want you to consider why I forbid you to go out on your own. You could have been hurt or lost.”

“God sent a man to help me.”

Mercy and Abel exchanged a look. His was full of concern and worry. For her part, she wondered how he’d deal with this.

“Son, like I said, I’m glad you’re safe and sound. Let’s leave it at that.” He patted Ladd on the back and returned to the stove.

“Do you drink coffee?” he asked Mercy, then realized she still stood. “Please, have a seat.”

She sat on one of the chairs. Allie hung over the back, her face so close to Mercy’s she breathed in the sweet scent of her skin. “I like coffee fine,” she answered.

He filled a new-looking coffeepot with water, ground some beans and tossed the ground coffee into the pot. In a few minutes he poured her a cupful.

She cradled her hands about the cup.

He sipped his coffee as he turned his attention back to the pot of porridge he cooked. He handed bowls to Ladd. “Set the table, please.”

Mercy kept her attention on her cup as she tried to ignore his presence. It was impossible. He was so big in such a small space. And so vital. He touched Allie’s head, brushed Ladd’s shoulder, smiled at them.

Her mouth went dry. She gulped coffee but the dryness remained.

The children were fortunate to know such affection and approval from their father. What had happened to their mother, she wondered?

He filled bowls, set them on the table and sat down. “Let’s thank God for the food.” The children bowed their heads and Abel said a prayer of thanksgiving, not only for the food but for the safety of his son.

Allie and Ladd sent silent signals to each other across the table. They ducked their heads to eat their breakfast, then looked steadfastly at their father.

Abel cleaned his bowl and drained his coffee cup. “Mercy—you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”

“I answer best to it. After all, it’s my name.” She knew he meant to ask her permission to use her Christian name, but some perverse imp prompted her to answer indirectly.

His smile was fleeting. “Fine. Mercy, I find myself in a quandary.”

She offered him no assistance. He had gotten himself into this quandary without her help. He’d have to get out the same way.

“I need to get wood and cut logs. I can’t leave the children to do it. And they are quite insistent that they want you to stay with them. Will you?”

Although she understood what he wanted, he’d been much more direct about telling her to leave. He could be equally direct about asking her to come back. “Will I what?”

His eyes narrowed. He’d correctly read her resistance.

Just as she understood that he swallowed his pride to ask her straight out. “Will you please stay with the children so I can get at my work?”

She laughed, with relief at being welcomed back and also with a touch of victory that he’d had to lessen his rigid stand. “Why, I’d be pleased to.”

The children grinned. Ladd immediately set to work cleaning the table and washing dishes.

Abel pushed back from the table. “Thank you.” He wrapped slices of bread and syrup in brown paper, snagged a can of beans and then grabbed his coat and hat. “I’ll be on my way.” He hugged the children and hurried out.

She stared at the door for a heartbeat after he left. Two and then a third. His thanks had been perfunctory. His leaving hasty. And why not? He had to prepare for winter. Had to provide the children’s needs.

No reason in the world to wish he could linger a bit and talk to her. No reason at all.

In fact, it was a relief to have him gone. He was too big. He crowded the tiny room and made her uncomfortable. Whew. She released the air from her tight lungs. Now she could breathe easy without concerning herself about his reaction to what she said and did.

She rubbed her arms, remembering his solid chest and warm hands.

Why had his hug felt so good? Like it filled up an empty spot in her heart. She shook her head. Where had such foolishness come from?

Chapter Five

Abel led Sam in the general direction he planned to go but, before he ventured farther, he left the horse waiting as he scouted around the cabin. If some crazy man hung about in the vicinity he wanted to know about it. Heavy gray clouds hung low in the sky. Dampness filled the air. At least the twins would be safe and dry in Mercy’s care.

Mercy! The woman seemed destined to fill his mind with confusion.

Shoot! He was crazier than any wild man. He’d hugged Mercy. Only because he was so all-fired relieved to see Ladd safe and sound. Or at least that’s the excuse he gave himself and initially it had driven his actions. But he’d felt a whole lot more than relief as soon as his arms closed around her. He’d noted a number of things—how she fit just below his chin, how small yet strong she felt, how her hair filled with the scent of summer flowers and fresh-mowed hay.

Momentarily, without forethought, his arms had tightened around her and then she’d stepped back, no doubt as shocked by his actions as he’d been.

A thorough search around the cabin yielded no evidence of anyone lingering in the area. So Abel returned to Sam and left to find firewood and good logs, though building a bigger cabin before winter seemed a distant possibility.

He worked steadily all day, grateful the rain held off. Shadows filled the hollows and hung around the trees as he returned to the cabin with logs. Rather than unload immediately, he headed for the cabin, driven by far more than concern for the children. All day his thoughts had tortured him with memories of Mercy in his arms. Yet only the day before he’d considered her a menace to his children’s safety.

Likely she still was, and he needed to keep that in mind. A woman interested in pursuing a wild life in a show, a woman who ignored his warnings about involving the children in her activities, a woman who rode like a man and...

He reached the cabin door and paused to listen. Laughter came from inside and he forgot to list the other things against Mercy.

Ducking his head, he stepped inside and ground to a halt. Flour covered half the surfaces in the cabin and if he wasn’t mistaken, dough spatters decorated the surfaces that had been spared the flour dusting. The children wore generous amounts of both and Mercy’s hair had turned gray. When had he ever seen such a mess? Was this her idea of looking after the twins? “What exploded?”

The three looked up, saw his expression and glanced around. Their gaze returned to him, guardedness replacing the laughter.

“We made cookies,” Ladd said, his words solid.

“Mercy helped us.” Allie sounded a little more conciliatory.

Mercy didn’t say anything and her gaze dared him to object.

He swallowed hard, the aroma of cookies from the oven overwhelming his annoyance. “Cookies, huh?”

“Want some?” Allie asked.

“They smell good.” He’d overlook the mess in order to enjoy the cookies. And the company of those who had baked them. Tonight he’d clean the mess. At least he’d be too busy to be bored and lonely.

He sat at the table and tried not to look too surprised at the cookies set before him. One was small and slightly black around the edges, another was the size of a saucer, several were balls and one had been shaped into— He peered more closely at it.

“It’s a horse,” Ladd said. “Allie made it.”

Allie stood at Abel’s side waiting for his approval. Who’d have thought to make a horse out of cookie dough? Probably Mercy. “It’s looks very nice.”

Allie beamed her approval.

Mercy handed him a cup of coffee although she didn’t join him and the children at the table.

He studied her out of the corner of his eyes. Was she uncomfortable around him? He had no one but himself to blame if she was. Nor could she find this any more awkward than did he.

He downed his coffee and ate two cookies—one each child had made—pronounced them delicious, then hurried back outside to deal with the load of firewood.

A couple of hours later, he returned to the cabin. When he stepped inside, he blinked at the transformation. The flour and dough had been cleaned up and the vegetable soup Allie craved simmered on the stove. The table had been set for three. No reason he should be disappointed, he told himself. Mercy had to get going if she planned to get back while she could see the trail.

She grabbed her jacket and he followed her out the door.

“Keep alert. I don’t like to think what a man is doing out in the woods.”

She chuckled. “I’ll keep my gun and rope ready and, if need be, use them both.”

He didn’t ask how she’d use them both but, no doubt, she could.

She swung into the saddle and sat there. “I don’t know if you were aware that there are church services at the ranch every Sunday. There’s a service tomorrow, in the cookhouse. Everyone is welcome. If you’re interested.”

“I’d love to come. I want the children to realize that Sunday means church. What time?”

“We meet right after breakfast.” She gave the time. “See you then.”

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