Faith (22 page)

Papa would have liked this righteous man Dan Walters.
He would have said Dan was the salt of the earth.

"The pages are worn because your papa reads the Bible
every day."

Adam nodded. "Uh-huh. And he tries to live by it, but he
says sometimes it's powerful hard."

Powerful hard, Faith thought, recalling Liza. Sometimes
nearly impossible.

Sissy and Lilly napped on the nearby couch as Faith
retold the story of David and Goliath, Philistines, swords,
five smooth stones, and a sling. When she finished, Adam
turned to her, cupping her face in his small hands.

"Are you pretty?"

"Some say my eyes are an unusual shade, but no, I wouldn't
say I'm pretty." She laughed. "Maybe passable, on a good
day." Papa said eyes revealed a person's soul. If Adam could
see her eyes, would he see a woman who longed for a child
just like him? "Adam, do you understand color?"

Adam shook his head. "Papa's tried to 'splain them to me,
but he's not very good at it."

"Would you like for me to try?"

"Would you?"

"Of course. Let's see-where should I start?"

Adam quickly decided. "'Splain me the color of your eyes."

Faith smiled. "Better yet, why don't I let you see the color
of my eyes."

Adam cocked his head. "I can't see!"

"Maybe not with your eyes, but you can see with your
hands."

The expression on the child's face clearly said she must be
teasing.

Taking his right hand, she placed it on her left cheek.
"Tell me what you see, Adam."

Adam carefully ran his fingertips over her cheekbones,
frowning. "I see ... lumps." He grinned.

"Now my eyes."

His fingertips lightly traced her eyelids, the tips of his
fingers exploring her lashes, the shape of her nose.

"My eyes are violet," she said.

"Violet?"

"Violet is a cool color, like the lilacs blooming next to the
porch step."

"Those smelly things?"

"Those lovely smelling things." He was so like a man. "Do
you know the feel of cool, Adam?"

Adam shook his head.

Lifting him off her lap, she took his hand, and they
walked outside and down the path to the icehouse. A draft
of cool air washed over her as they entered the building.

Holding tightly to her hand, Adam edged closer. "I know
where we are!"

"Yes, we're in the icehouse." She led him to a block of
ice, then carefully took his hand and ran it across the cold,
moist surface. "This is how cool feels."

Adam broke into a wide grin as he ran first one hand,
then the other, over the icy surface. "Cool," he murmured.
"Cold!"

"Very cold!" Faith laughed. "Now, let's feel warm."

"Like the stove? Papa said the stove's hot!"

"And Papa's right!"

Returning to the kitchen, she guided him to the cookstove. As trusting as a puppy, he allowed her to hold his
hand above the burners. Heat radiated from the cast iron.
"This is hot."

"Hot." He nodded. "Once I burned myself on hot, real
bad."

"That can happen. Hot is best left alone." She opened the
warming oven and took out a biscuit. Placing the bread in
the child's hand, she said softly, "This is warm. Yellow is a
warm color. Butter is yellow; sunshine is yellow."

They both turned as the back door opened and Dan
walked into the kitchen.

"Papa!"

Grinning, Dan ruffled his son's hair as he made a beeline
for the washbowl. "What are you two up to this fine day?"

"Faith's teaching me how to see colors!"

"She is!" Dan glanced at Faith appreciatively. "I've tried
to explain colors to him, but I guess I don't do a very good
job."

Faith dished up his dinner as he toweled dry.

"Where are the other young'uns?"

"Sissy and Lilly went down for naps earlier."

"I got tied up at the livery. Thought I wasn't going to get
a dinner break at all."

Faith set a plate of chicken and dumplings in front of him,
watching him eye the fat dumplings swimming in rich gravy
with an appreciative sigh. "That sure looks good. Haven't
eaten this good since Carolyn was alive."

They bowed their heads, and Dan said grace. Picking up
his fork, he dug in. "Have you eaten?"

Faith nodded and poured coffee into a thick mug. "The
children and I ate earlier."

Dan's eyes met hers across the table. "Much obliged. It's
real nice to have a woman in the kitchen again." He took a
bite of dumplings, then observed, "You know, I promised
Carolyn I wouldn't pine away-I'd remarry someday, give
the children a mama."

"I shouldn't think Deliverance has a shortage of women
who'd be proud to look after them." Faith glanced away,
careful not to acknowledge the tender look in his eyes. He
was a good man, and he needed a wife more than any man
she knew. Why hadn't God chosen her to be that wife?
There could never be anything but friendship between
them. If Nicholas didn't want her, she would return to
Michigan. She would not shame Nicholas by marrying
another man here in Deliverance.

The past week had opened her eyes regarding marriage.
Vows could be bought and paid for like a sack of grain, but
she discovered that she needed-wanted-more. She wanted to be in love with the man she married. If she were
to explore a relationship with Dan, love would come. He
was far too good a man not to love. As she'd cared for them
these past days, his children had started to feel like hers. And
Dan, well, he would make some lucky lady a wonderful
husband. But she couldn't stay.

She and Dan had talked about their individual situations.
He understood her insecurities, her doubts, her fears that
Liza would never allow Nicholas to marry her, her dread of
Edsel Martin. The wistfulness in Dan's tone when they
talked about marriage had wrenched her heart. More than
once he'd asked for the address of the journal in which
Faith had placed her ad. She always steered the conversation
to safer ground, fearing it was his subtle way of conveying
that he, also, was in the market for a wife. Perhaps-perhaps
if it weren't for shaming Nicholas....

"There are a few women around, but none that I'd
marry," Dan continued, buttering a piece of bread. "Jenny
Petersen's looking to get hitched, but jenny's got a temper
like a chafed bull." He took a bite of chicken. " 'Course,
there's always Maggie Lewis, but Maggie's like her ma; she
clings to a man like a summer cold. And not real trustworthy, either. I couldn't count on Maggie to get the kids in
out of the rain." Dan bit into the bread. "Nicholas stopped
by the livery this morning."

He'd changed the subject so quickly that Faith wondered
if he'd read her earlier thoughts. She calmly took a couple
of cookies from the jar and put them on a plate. "Oh?"

"Asked how you were doing."

She worked to keep her tone impartial. "I trust he's fine
and his cattle drive was successful?"

"Fit as a fiddle, and richer." Dan reached for the sugar
bowl. "Asked about you-did I say that?"

"Yes, it's always nice to hear you're being thought
about." Nicholas might ask about her, but he'd certainly
shown no interest otherwise. She set the plate of cookies in
front of Dan. "What brought Nicholas to the livery today?"

"Said his horse was limping, but I couldn't find a problem." Dan looked up, grinning. "I think he's snooping."

"Snooping?" Faith scoffed at the unlikely assumption. The
last thing Nicholas Shepherd would do was snoop on her.
"Dan, I need to ask you something."

"Sure." He motioned with his fork for her to sit down.

Taking a seat opposite him, she folded her hands, studying
them thoughtfully. "What does ... well, this is a rather difficult question." Papa had done his best, but there were a
few things he'd neglected to explain-like, what a man
wanted in a woman, what he expected. Obviously, she
didn't possess a single thing that attracted Nicholas.

Dan appeared curious. "What's the question?"

"Men. What do they want in a woman?" She bit her
lower lip when she saw a red blush creep up the back of his
neck. Was she being frightfully forward?

She didn't mean what did they want; she was old enough
to know all about the birds and the bees, and she'd seen
enough tomfoolery with friends to know that you didn't
give a man everything he wanted, at least not without the
sanctity of marriage. What she meant was: What did a man look for in a woman? Beauty? Loyalty? A hard worker? She
shook her head, answering her own question. Nicholas certainly wasn't looking for a hard worker to make him happy.
He had a bunkhouse full of men who were paid for that
service.

Stirring cream into his coffee, Dan studied the question.
"You mean, what makes a man fall in love with a woman?"

"I suppose that's what I mean."

"We're back to talking about Nicholas, aren't we?"

"Yes," she admitted, then released her breath in a disgusted whoosh. "I might as well be as freckled as a turkey
egg the way Nicholas fails to notice me."

"A turkey egg?" Dan shook his head, sobering. "I don't
think any man would think of you as a turkey egg. I've
caught Nicholas looking at you a few times out of the
corner of his eye."

"But his other eye was on Rachel."

"Rachel?" He frowned. "She's married to Joe Lanner,
although I don't know of a person who'd fault her if she
decided to leave him."

"I overheard someone in the mercantile say Joe mistreats
her. Is that true?"

Dan nodded, taking a bite of dumplings. "She refuses to
admit it, but she shows up every week with a new bruise or
broken bone. Says she falls, but no one believes her. Joe
Lanner should be taken out and hung from the highest
limb. A man's got no right to treat a woman that way."

"Well?"

He glanced up.

"You haven't answered my question."

Pushing back from the table, Dan took a deep breath,
loosening his belt. He'd eaten as if it were his last meal, but
Faith was proud he enjoyed her cooking. "Let's see. What
does a man want in a woman? That was the question."

"Yes, except for the obvious."

"Except for the obvious-well, I guess he enjoys a pretty
face-but if she were as ugly as sin, guess that wouldn't
matter as long as she had a kind heart and a humble spirit.

"A fine figure helps, but she could be fat as a hog, and if
her man loves her, it wouldn't make an ounce of difference.
There'd just be more to love-but you've got no problem
there. You're a handsome woman, slim as a reed.

"I guess when it comes right down to it, a man wants
someone who'll share his life, be his best friend, bear his
children; and it wouldn't hurt none if she could make
dumplings as good as his mama." He winked. "And you
got no problem at all in that area."

She waited for him to go on, fascinated. When he didn't,
she frowned. "That's all?"

His sincere chestnut brown eyes met hers. "What I'm
sayin' is, Nicholas would be a fool to let you go, so stop
your frettin'. Nicholas is a lot of things, but he's not stupid.
He knows he's got a rose; it'll just take a while for his pride
to allow him to admit it."

Faith fiddled with the end of the tablecloth. "Maybe Liza
won't let him admit it."

"Nicholas is his own man. He's been real good to Liza
since his papa died, indulged her more than he should, but that doesn't mean she runs him. It may look that way; but
I've known him all my life, and he doesn't do anything he
doesn't want to do."

Faith wasn't as sure about Nicholas's independence. From
all appearances, Liza ruled the Shepherd roost.

Tuesday morning Faith was down on her hands and knees
polishing the banister at the Smith house when she looked
up to find Nicholas standing in the doorway. Her heart
shot to her throat. He looked so handsome standing there,
tanned, wearing a blue shirt that matched his eyes, his tall
frame filling the opening.

Dropping her gaze, she went on polishing. "Is there
something I can do for you?" It was the first time she'd seen
him since he'd gotten back from the cattle drive, and the
moment was awkward.

A muscle worked tightly in his jaw as his eyes fixed on
her. "One of Dan's bulls is out."

No pleasant "How are you?" or "I'm sorry you and
Mother disagreed." Not even an "I think we should pray
about this." Just "Dan's bull's out."

She kept her eyes trained on the banister. "Did you tell
Dan?"

"I'm not going into town. You tell him this afternoon,
when he gets home." She winced at his apparent willingness
to be on with his business.

Deliberately keeping her voice pleasant, even though she
wanted to bite his head off for caring so little about her, she said nicely, "I'm not going to be seeing Dan today; I'm
going back to the Finneys'. Can't you put it up for him?"

"It's not my bull."

"It's not mine, either." Nor my stubborn pride, she reasoned. Pride goeth before a fall, the Good Book says. Papa
would take a switch to her for her impertinence, but
Nicholas's outward calm infuriated her! Wasn't he going
to ask why she'd left? Didn't he even want to hear her side
of the story?