Twice Blessed Read online

  Taking a sip of coffee to keep herself from staring more, Emma said, “There are plenty of rules out here in the country. Not like the rules in the city, where you need to know when and where to cross the street. Our rules have to do with making and keeping good neighbors.”

  “And one of the first is not to let your dog chase your neighbor’s sheep?”

  “One of the first,” she said, meeting his gaze evenly, “is that a farmer has a right to do whatever he must to protect his livestock from marauders.”

  “Marauders?” His brows rose, but no mirth eased his rigid lips. “Fuzzball is just a rambunctious pup. He wouldn’t have caused any damage.”

  “You can’t know that. Neither could Mr. Murray, because other dogs have chased his sheep, leaving him with miscarrying ewes and dead lambs. He saw your dog in his field and assumed the worst.” She curved her fingers around her cup as she met his gaze evenly. “Next time he’ll shoot to kill.”

  “How do you know he wasn’t trying to kill the pup this time and missed?”

  “Mr. Murray is a crack shot. He has to be, or else he might hit one of his herd. You may not believe it, but he did you and Belinda a favor tonight. He’s given you fair warning, and now it’s up to you to keep Fuzzball away from his sheep. Next time, he won’t be so generous.”

  Noah frowned and sighed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. He was generous to me, like you convinced me to be generous to the O’Dell kid?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And like you’re now being generous again to the boy. How did you get him dumped on you?”

  “I didn’t get him dumped on me. I agreed to take him because the representatives from the Children’s Aid Society believed he’d be happier in town than out on a farm. He has been very helpful around the store.”

  “So you haven’t had any problems with him?”

  She shrugged, hoping he did not take note of how stiff her shoulders were. The small issue of Sean stealing candy was nothing she needed to share with anyone. “Nothing but for Sean and me to get accustomed to each other. He’s going to start school on Monday, and that will help him learn more about the rest of the children here in town. They’ll help him become even more comfortable here.”

  “Another way neighbors help each other around here?”

  “Yes.”

  Pushing himself away from the sink, he said, “I guess I’ve got a lot to learn.”

  “I guess you do.”

  “And you’ve been too generous to me, too, Emma. I wish I could repay you for—”

  “That isn’t necessary,” she replied as her mind taunted her with ways she would like him to express his thanks. Those strong hands had been so gentle when they had been around her waist. Although she had told him to recall himself on the street, that did not mean she had not been delighted in his touch then … and would be now.

  “I could fix your chair,” Noah replied.

  Smiling, she said, “If you want to fix something, please fix the coffin Mrs. Lambert ordered for her husband. The top was scratched when Sean jumped out of it in the storage room. I don’t want to deliver it to her like that.”

  “The coffin is still in your back room? After a week? When’s the funeral?”

  “Mr. Lambert isn’t dead.” She laughed. “He isn’t even sick.”

  “So why did his wife buy him a coffin?”

  “Who knows? I sell folks what they want. I learned long ago not to ask why. I might get answers that start to make sense.”

  He chuckled. “What would make sense right now is to say thank you again and be on our way.”

  “Keep an eye on Fuzzball’s leg for a couple of days.” She started to stand, then gasped as pain seared her left foot.

  “What is it?”

  She drew back the coverlet, which had seared liquid fire across her instep when she moved it. Four red welts were outlined in blood.

  “You’re hurt!” he gasped. “Why didn’t you say something before this?”

  He knelt and cupped her bare foot in his broad hand. She watched as he tilted her foot so he could see the trails of blood. Against her skin, his fingers were rough as a woodworker’s should be, but gentle. She could imagine him stroking a piece of wood as he decided how he would turn it into something beautiful and useful.

  Her heart thudded against her chest when his hair brushed her leg. Her fingers tingled with the craving to sift through those dark strands. Would it be as coarse as his fingers or as silken as his water-stained vest?

  He looked up at her, and, for a moment, his gaze held hers. Or was it more than a moment? She could not tell.

  She must have hidden her thoughts, because he asked only, “Is your foot terribly sore?”

  “Not as sore as Queenie’s tail, I fear.” Emma drew her foot out of his hand and brushed the coverlet over her ankle, which had been too boldly displayed. “Queenie is my cantankerous cat. Her tail, unfortunately, was right under my foot when you startled me with your knock on the door.”

  “You should tend to this foot before it gets infected.”

  “I shall.” She smiled. “I shall retrieve the powders I used to tend to your dog and take care of my careless foot.”

  He stood as she did, and she again took a step back to put more than a hand’s breadth between them. She bumped into the table and clutched its edge. In silence, she gazed up at him.

  For the length of a pair of heartbeats, he did not move. Neither did she, for she was not certain she could when his gaze held her in a warm embrace.

  His hand came up to cup her cheek. She could not silence her gasp as he lowered his face toward hers as he had in the store. Reverend Faulkner and Sean would not be coming in to intrude this time. Every inch of her waited in eager anticipation for his kiss. This was foolish, but she suddenly wanted to do something utterly foolish. Letting him kiss her was the most foolish thing she could imagine now. It was the only thing she could imagine now.

  His gaze swept her face as his thumb brushed her jaw. Her knees trembled, and she reached out to steady herself. When her fingers settled on his chest, he became motionless again. She wanted to yell at him to kiss her. She wanted to chide him and tell him to unhand her this very moment. As his other hand curved along her cheek, she feared she could not endure a second more of this exquisite suspense.

  Then he kissed her … on the cheek as he said, “Thank you again, Emma, for keeping Belinda’s heart from breaking.” He stepped away and motioned for her to precede him into the parlor.

  Emma turned stiffly and fought to calm her pounding heart. She should be grateful that Noah was showing more good judgment than she was. This longing for him to kiss her was not at all like her. The horrible dream and her exhaustion must have banished her common sense.

  Keeping her steps slow, she walked into the front room. Fuzzball was snoring by the stove, and Belinda was curled into a ball almost as tight as Cleo as they slept together on the sofa. On the far side of the stove, Sean was now rolled in the blanket he must have gotten from his bed.

  Noah looked from the dog to his daughter and smiled. “This is going to be a challenge,” he whispered.

  “Wait here.” She rushed up the stairs and collected the two quilts from the bottom of the trunk at the foot of her bed. She brought them downstairs and handed one to him. “These will keep the two of them dry. I’m sorry. These are the last two I have.”

  “I shouldn’t take them.”

  “It’s still raining hard.”

  He grimaced as he looked out the window. “The creek was already high from the snowmelt farther north. I hope this rain doesn’t continue too long. We should hurry. My buckboard is out front. They’ll be dry once they’re under the oilcloth in the back.”

  “If you can carry Fuzzball, Noah, I’ll get your daughter.” She did not want to speak Belinda’s name, for that chanced waking the little girl.

  “She’s heavier. I should—”

  “If she wakes up while I’m carrying her, she won’t
bite me.” She smiled. “I’m not so sure we can say the same about your dog.”

  “That’s true, but she is heavy.”

  “So are the barrels at the store.” Emma did not give him another chance to argue.

  Going to the couch, she slipped her arms beneath the little girl. Belinda murmured in her sleep, but did not wake as she was lifted. The scent of perfumed soap surprised Emma. Such soaps were a costly luxury. When she turned, she could not mistake the love on Noah’s face as he looked at his daughter. Maybe he could deny his daughter nothing.

  She bent her head as she stepped off the porch. Rain pelted her, and the wet grass soaked her feet and the bottom of the coverlet. She picked her way carefully to the wagon. She waited while Noah settled the senseless dog in the back, then handed him Belinda.

  His fingers caressed hers as chastely as his hands had touched her face in the kitchen. Again the pulse of longing throbbed through her, and she hoped he could not see her eyes widen.

  “Thank you again, Emma,” he said as he drew the oilcloth over the sleeping girl and the puppy. Then he untied the reins from the post by the road.

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  He climbed into the front seat of the buckboard with ease. “I hope your foot—and your cat’s tail—heal as quickly as Fuzzball’s leg.”

  “I hope so, too.” She stepped back onto the grass as he clucked an order to the horse.

  As the buckboard rattled into shadows and was swallowed by the night, she did not move, even as the rain streamed down through her hair. Yes, her foot would heal quickly, but she had the uneasy suspicion Queenie’s claws were not the only thing that had gotten under her skin tonight.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Noah wiped the back of his neck with a dirty kerchief. Sawdust clung to the creases of his shirt and itched on his bare forearms as he stuffed the kerchief in the pocket of his brown denim trousers. He counted the handful of stars already poking through the twilight where clouds had not claimed the sky. A cow lowed in the distance, but the sound could barely be heard over the rush of water from the Ohio River at the bottom of the hill.

  The creek met the Ohio only a few hundred feet from here. He scowled as he realized the frantic rush of water had come from the creek as well as the river below. If the water kept rising at this rate, it would flow over its banks and down here into his woodlot. Then he would have to wait for the wood to dry before he could begin working on it. The hour was too late to drag even one of these logs back to the barn beside his house.

  It would be a long night while he made sure everything in the barn was secure and watched the rising water. He swung his ax over his shoulder with the ease he had gained from many hours of practice. Humming a tuneless song under his breath, he climbed back over the pile of logs he had cleaned of branches and twigs. A good day’s work. Tomorrow, if the creek did not jump its banks, he would hitch up old Patches and get these logs to where he could start stripping off the bark.

  He settled his suspenders over his shoulders and reached for the branch where he had left his coat so it would not get filthy. Gladys would be furious if he showed up on the porch “half dressed,” as she called it. The housekeeper had a way of keeping him and Belinda in line. He tried to imagine what he would have done if Gladys had not been willing to come to Indiana with them.

  When he ran his hand through his hair, leaves and dust billowed out. He drew the kerchief from his pocket again and wiped the debris from his nape so it would not itch. He might not get a chance to bathe tonight. He chuckled. Being too busy worrying about the cold water in the creek could keep him from enjoying some hot water in the tub.

  Mud caught at his boots as he climbed up onto the road. His smile faded. The morning’s rainfall would raise the creek even higher, and he had heard the Ohio roaring all day. If the Ohio’s waters rose above the bottomlands, his whole farm could be washed away.

  As he turned toward the low, rambling house that was now his home, a motion in the opposite direction caught his eye. He peered through the twilight to see an earthbound star twinkling. Not a star, but a lantern. Something was near the bridge leading back toward Haven. In the light that bounced as if hooked onto a child’s ball, he saw a wagon and a horse facing the bridge over the creek. The wagon was not moving.

  He hoped it was not Murray coming to complain again about the pup getting into his sheep. Three times during this past week, Noah had had more than an hour wasted while he had endured listening to the old man’s lectures.

  The horse by the bridge whinnied nervously, then rose with a shrill neigh onto its hind feet. The lantern fell to the ground, sending light up on the frightened horse.

  Noah threw his ax to the road and raced to the black wagon that was larger than his buckboard. The stupid horse could fling the wagon and itself into the creek. He rounded the front of the wagon and halted.

  A woman, her face hidden by the gingham ruffles on her bonnet, was trying to grasp the horse’s bridle as a child shouted in the back of the wagon. Her soft, calm words were smothered by the horse’s panicked neighs. As the horse’s flailing hoofs came close to her, she leaped back, but did not flee.

  From the other side, Noah tried to catch the horse’s head. Leather burned his palm as the horse jerked away from him.

  “Damnation!” he growled.

  “There’s no need for such language.”

  Amazement filled Noah as he met eyes that snapped with frustration through the thickening twilight. The gingham bonnet was sitting on Emma Delancy’s tawny curls that, as they had every time he had seen her, were escaping her hair pins. Glancing at the wagon, he saw Sean O’Dell peeking over the seat. It was almost dark, but he could read the large white letters on the side.

  Delancy’s General Store, Haven, Indiana.

  “Emma!” he shouted. “What’s going on here? What’s wrong with your horse?”

  “Later!” She grabbed for the horse’s head again and cheered when she captured the bridle. Instead of snarling at the horse, she bent her own head close to it and whispered something, her voice as soft as sawdust. She ran her hand lightly along the horse’s mane. It quivered, but did not try to pull away again.

  Noah was silent while she continued to soothe the horse, whose sides strained with each breath. The horse’s eyes no longer rolled back in fear, and its ears rose from where they had been pinned to its skull. Only when the beast lowered its head and rubbed against her shoulder did she relax.

  He went to the wagon and lifted out the boy in case the horse got another notion in its head. Putting his hand on Sean’s shaking shoulder, he asked, “Are you all right, boy?”

  “Yes, sir.” He grinned, revealing a missing tooth that had been there last week. “That horse is plum crazy.”

  “I agree.”

  Sean’s grin widened, and Noah found himself smiling back at the lad. Clapping him gently on the shoulder, Noah turned to where Emma was still stroking the horse.

  “Did something spook him?” Noah asked as he picked up the lantern and set it back on the seat. The glass had cracked, but the flame still flickered.

  “I’m not sure. Toby should be all right.”

  “Toby? The horse?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not worried about your horse. What about you? Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine. Sean?”

  “Right here,” he replied, but stayed on the edge of the road.

  Noah smiled. The boy was showing good sense to keep some distance between him and that crazed horse.

  She wiped her hands on the stained apron over her dark skirt and simple white blouse. “Toby just gets ideas into his head sometimes, and nothing will get them out.”

  “What got into his head this time?”

  Emma shrugged in answer to Noah’s question, then wished she had not. She winced as pain ricocheted through her shoulders.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I told you. I’m fine. Just a bit sore. When Toby tried to
pull the reins out of my hands, he almost took my arms with them.” She forced a smile as she met the concern in Noah’s gaze.

  Her aching shoulder was forgotten when she found herself becoming lost in his dark eyes. Only the low whoosh of the horse’s breath reminded her that anything existed beyond the scarcely restrained fires in those eyes. When Noah came around the horse, putting his hands on the reins near her fingers, she shivered, hoping and yet fearing he would touch her.

  Since he had called at her house with his daughter and their dog, she had tried to put him out of her mind and concentrate on getting Sean settled into Haven’s school. She had prided herself on believing she had her thoughts of Noah Sawyer under control and would not succumb to the spell of his warm gaze the next time they met. She had been deceiving herself.

  He bent toward her, and her breath shattered over the swift beat of her heart. Could he hear its thumping? Could he guess how the scent of freshly cut wood drifted from him like the most beguiling cologne?

  Emma swallowed roughly and closed her eyes as she released that breath when he knelt and lifted Toby’s front hoof. He examined it before checking the others. Rising, he wiped his hands on his denims, which were lathered to his legs with the sweat left by hard work.

  “Looks to be all right,” Noah said. “He didn’t step on anything to scare him.”

  “I knew that.” She refused to lower her gaze when he regarded her with astonishment. She had not intended her answer to be so sharp, but it was irritating that he seemed completely unaware of the tenuous sensation that had joined them together for a single heartbeat.

  “You did?” He rested his arm on the horse’s back. She wondered if his cool pose was a pretense. Maybe so, or maybe his skin tingled in anticipation of a caress as hers did. His hooded eyes and the growing dark masked all emotion. “Then what do you think caused a horse of his considerable years to act like an unbroken yearling?”

  “I told you. He sometimes gets—”