Brides of Texas (20 page)

No man would ever watch me, so that’s a ridiculous statement
.

“You canna continue to allow others to take advantage of your kind heart. There’s not another woman around who’s constantly dashing off to lend a hand. You’re going to be worn to a frazzle.”

“I like helping others.”

“And well they know it. Still, dinna feel that every single time someone mentions a need, you’re the one meant to meet it.”

Carmen couldn’t fathom what he was talking about.

Duncan stepped closer. “They’re taking advantage of you, getting you to mind their bairns, bringing them meals, doing all manner of chores…. If you have a hard time telling them no, then we’ll work on that. But—”

“No one’s making me do anything. I offer them my help, Duncan.”

“Let me be sure I’m hearing you right.” He tilted his head to the side, and his brows formed an ominous black V. “You got yourself into this fix, and you keep on volunteering?”

“Fix?” Carmen tried not to laugh. He looked so serious that it warmed her heart. “Duncan, I’m happy to be busy. There’s nothing wrong with me helping our neighbors and church family.”

“I’m going to disagree wi’ you there.” His voice held reservation. “Dinna be so wrapped up in actions that you fail to do as the Bible instructs—to be still and know that He is God.”

“Of course I know He is God.” Carmen rose. “And I know who my brothers and sisters are, because Christ is our Savior. It all fits together. By serving them, I serve Him.”

The grooves along the sides of his mouth deepened. Shaking his head, Duncan said, “You’ve the cart before the horse. ’Tis by serving God that we serve others. When our hearts are in accord with Him, our cups run over and shower blessings on the lives of others. You canna rain showers of blessings forever on your own strength and merit. Your own cup will go dry.”

His words left her feeling unsettled. Carmen resented that.
Instead of wallowing in self-pity because I’m crippled and alone, I’m filling my days by helping others. He just doesn’t understand
.

“Think on it,” he urged.

“Only if you hurry and eat another of those. I think you need to sweeten your disposition today.” She forced a laugh and hobbled out of his shop and back to her empty house.

T
hings are wrong.” Duncan did his best not to glower at Carmen.

“What’s wrong?” She finished tying a ribbon around the bottom of a little lassie’s plait. “Go ask Nestor to give you a cookie.”

“Miss Carmen, are you telling me to get a cookie?” The lassie shot a jealous look up at Duncan. “Or are you telling him to?”

“I dinna have an appetite for cookies today.” Duncan served Carmen a telling look.

The little lass tugged on Carmen’s sleeve. “Do I getta have his cookie, then?”

“You and Nestor may share it,
chica
.”

Duncan fought the urge to shoo all of the children back to their homes. His talk with Carmen had made a difference—but the wrong one. If anything, she’d taken on even more responsibilities. The woman looked tired. From clear across the road, he’d noticed how her steps dragged. As a result, he’d closed his shop and come over so she wouldn’t have to mind the rowdy bunch of children who filled her yard all by herself.

Her flower garden wasn’t the wonderland it used to be. Her walkway wasn’t swept, either. Little things—none of them alone said much, but put together, they nearly shouted something was wrong. He’d stay here until every last child left, but then Duncan planned to nudge Carmen into seeing the truth.

“So you mentioned something is wrong?” She gave him an expectant look.

“Aye.” She’d prodded him into the discussion before he’d anticipated, but Duncan decided he might as well get things out in the open. He fisted his hands and rested them on his hips. “Speakin’ as your friend, I’m reminding you that Christ was happier with Mary for sitting at His feet than He was with Martha for dashing about.”

“Miss Rodriguez!” The little girl ran back over with her lower lip poking out and quivering. “Nestor says he already gave away all the cookies.”

“
Pobrecita
.” Rich with compassion, the word rolled off Carmen’s tongue. She gave the child a hug and murmured, “Next time you come, I’ll make sure you get two.”

“I get two po-citras?”

Shaking her head, Carmen explained, “
Pobrecita
is a special word in Spanish that means I was feeling sorry for you and I care.”

“Oh.” The child’s eyes brightened with greed. “But I still get two cookies the next time!” She ran off shouting, “Nestor!”

“It actually means ‘poor little girl,’ but it isn’t in regards to money—it’s just a sympathy word.” Carmen absently brushed a smear of something from her skirt.

At times when he’d seen her with Ismelda, Duncan had overheard Carmen speak in Spanish. “Chris is the one who’d have figured that out. I dinna have a talent with words.”

“I disagree. It’s true, Chris learns languages so he can communicate.” Her hands started together and separated outward. “Your gift is in choosing the right words to comfort.” Her hands reversed the action, but she ended by pressing her hands to her bosom.

He’d never thought of it that way. It was a fine compliment, but Duncan refused to be distracted. “My words to you today won’t bring you comfort. I’m aiming to urge you to take stock and make changes.”

“I don’t want to change.”

Stubborn woman
. He heaved a long, drawn-out sigh for her benefit. “Busy hands dinna mean a full heart.”

She smoothed her skirts. “ ’Faith without works is dead.’ ”

“Aye, and you’d best be glad you’ve held that faith when you work yourself to death.”

Carmen’s eyes flashed with ire.

He studied her beautiful golden brown skin. The dark circles beneath her big brown eyes alarmed him. Duncan gentled his voice to coax her into reason. “E’en the Lord God Himself took the seventh day to rest.”

“And by keeping these little ones, I’m giving their parents a time of rest.” Carmen lifted a crabby tyke who’d toddled over and now clung to her skirts.

One quick whiff let Duncan know Carmen was going to be doing those parents a bigger favor still.

She laughed. “You’ve turned an interesting shade. With Elspeth—”

“My niece has enough sense to wait until her mother or father is around to do that.”

“Mercy said all of you Gregor men change diapers.”

“We do.” He nodded briskly.

“Then—”

“Elspeth behaves herself for Chris and me.”

The speed with which he made that assertion sent Carmen into giggles. Her laughter floated out to him as she tended the baby inside.

Duncan sat on the steps. Kids were a joy. Why, the three scrambling to sit on his knees and hang around his neck were all full of sunshine and laughter. But their parents were wrong to take advantage of Carmen. Ever since her sister got married, everyone seemed to think the woman didn’t have a thing to do.

“Piggyback!” Nestor pled.

“Sure, and why not?” Duncan was giving the second child a turn about the yard when Carmen came back out with the babe. She sat in a wicker chair and popped a bottle into the toddler’s mouth.

By the time he’d given all the children two rides, their parents came to collect them. As they walked away, Carmen turned to him. “You’ll make a good father someday.”

“I’m looking forward to it. E’en promised Da I’d name my firstborn son after him, but that day’s a long while off. Carmen, I was serious when I said ’tisna right, you doing so much.”

“I’m enjoying myself.”

“You’re wearin’ yourself to a frazzle. You dinna e’en hae time enough to tend to your flowers any longer. The garden’s a sad shadow of itself.”

“But the children have more room to play.”

He yanked the diaper she’d slung over her shoulder as a drool cloth. “They can do that at their own homes.”

Carmen yanked the cloth from him. “Yes, they can. But I like them to come to my house just the same. Our town is friendly. I enjoy spending time with—”

“The old and the sick and the lonely?”

“They are my friends and neighbors.” Her eyes flashed.

“That doesn’t mean you have to be responsible for other people’s children, too. Not a day goes by that you aren’t minding someone else’s bairns.”

The passion he’d seen in her eyes just seconds ago dimmed. The spirit in her voice did, too. “I’ll never have children of my own. Why do you want to deny me the few hours I can enjoy someone else’s?”

Before he could answer, she turned and fled up the steps. Her awkward steps made it difficult, and he could have easily caught up, but Duncan stayed behind. He tried to meet her gaze as she turned to shut her door, but she kept her head bowed. That was bad enough, but her shoulders—the way they lifted and fell wasn’t due to exertion.

I made her cry
.

Duncan lumbered up to her door and knocked. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he couldn’t set a woman into tears and just walk away. When she didn’t answer, he stood there and knocked again—harder and longer.

The door opened a mere crack—just enough for him to catch sight of a tear-streaked cheek.

Suddenly, he knew exactly what to say. He felt badly and wanted her to know he cared. “Pobrecita—”

“I’m not a child, and I don’t want your pity.” The door clicked shut.

“I’m a cobbler,” he said at a pitch he knew would reach her. “I’m good at making shoes, but I’m e’en better at stickin’ my feet in my mouth.” She didn’t respond. After another minute or two, Duncan went back to his shop.

Needing to wear off his frustration, he yanked out a case of metal stamps and a hammer, then started whacking the stamps with notable force to impress a design on a strip of leather. An intricately tooled design emerged.

It’s not half as complicated as that woman. I vowed to Da that I’d hae a son, but I didna think through all that meant. I’m going to look long and hard to find a placid woman. Someone fiery like Carmen would be the death of me
.

“She’d be here with you for about four months. Preferably five, if you don’t mind her staying a month to recover.”

Carmen set down her coffee. “Even six months is fine.”

“If you have any reservations at all, it’s okay.” The doctor didn’t so much as blink. “I’ve not mentioned this to a soul, so no one need e’er know if you feel ’tisna right for you.”

“You didn’t even mention it to Mercy?”

Dr. Gregor shook his head. “Nae. My wife honors the way a man of my profession must hold confidences. If you agree to boarding the young woman, you should know part of the usual arrangement is that she’s to help about the house with normal chores. She’s also to attend church.”

Folding her hands in her lap, Carmen sought a polite way to ask how she was supposed to coax a soiled dove to worship. “Is she accustomed to attending church?”

“Not as of late. But when she asked for assistance, she specified she wanted her baby to go to a good Christian home. It’s my hope that during her months here, she might turn her heart toward the Lord.”

“That would be wonderful. How soon can I expect her?”

“Her current situation is undesirable. The sooner, the better.”

Carmen nodded. “I just finished my spring cleaning. Ismelda’s old bedroom is ready. I could take her today if necessary.”

“She’s a full day away by train.”

“Tomorrow, then.” Carmen bit her lip. “Shall I say my cousin is coming?”

Dr. Gregor stood and leaned against the veranda railing. “Carmen, I didna seek you out because of your Mexican heritage. This lass—Jenny—I’ve been told she’s Swedish. I asked you because when Mercy discovered she was with child, your support for her never wavered. You looked past the sad circumstances and poured out Christian love and charity. If Jenny is to turn her heart toward the Lord, I’m thinkin’ you and the Gregors are goin’ to hae to drench her in His love.”

“I’ll expect Jenny tomorrow.”

“No!” Duncan thumped down his coffee mug, and everything on the supper table jumped from the impact. He glowered at Rob as he got to his feet. “Meet me in my workshop.” Without waiting for a response, he stomped out of the house.