Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (16 page)

Was that all? “So it's nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious.” There was a touch of outrage in her voice. “Didn't you hear me say he had a sprained wrist?”

She obviously didn't have much experience with active boys. “It'll mend.”

“But you left him in my care and I didn't keep him safe.”

Her feeling of responsibility was both sweet and misplaced. He crossed the room and sat on the sofa beside her, glad of the excuse to take her hand. “Eileen, this would have happened even if I had still been in town. You can't watch them all the time. Kids will take spills and have accidents. That's all part of growing up.”

But her lips were set in a stubborn line. “Nevertheless, you shouldn't leave them in my care like that again.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and was pleased to see a touch of pink grace her cheeks. “Come now, you're being much too hard on yourself.”

Before he could say more on the subject, the door chimes sounded. No doubt it was Lionel with the trunks.

He rose to take care of the delivery, but not before he gave her hand another squeeze. “We'll speak more about this later, but know this—I would trust you with these children at any time, under any circumstances, without any reservation whatsoever.”

* * *

Eileen blinked as she watched him leave the room. Had he meant that? But he didn't know—

She felt her chest constrict. It was getting harder and harder to maintain her distance. Soon, she'd have to tell him of her past failings. And she was dreading what that would do to his trust in her.

Chapter Nineteen

W
hen the children got home from school, Simon made a big show of asking Harry about his injured hand. Just as he suspected, though, he didn't doubt the injury was still painful, the boy was much more concerned with making certain his bravado was acknowledged than with any pain it might have caused him.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Fern asked.

“I'm afraid not.”

Rose tugged on his pant leg. “Did you bring our things back with you?”

“I did. I've put the trunk with the girls' things on the second floor and the one with the boys' things on the third. You can go upstairs and unpack in a moment. But first, I have something else for all of you.”

He led them into the dining room, where a small trunk sat on a chair. The lid was open, and from what Eileen could see, it appeared to contain Miss Fredrick's things.

“That's Gee-Gee's trunk,” Fern said. She glanced Eileen's way as if suspicious that Eileen had been rummaging through the contents.

“I know.” Simon walked over to the trunk and placed a hand on the lid. “Miss Fredrick's brother went through these things while he was here and took the items that were important to him. He wanted you children to have the rest. So you could each have something to remember her by.”

Eileen knew Mr. Fredrick would not have put it so generously. It was more likely Simon had requested the items on the children's behalf. She found the fact that he'd even thought to ask for such a thing oddly endearing.

“Fern, would you like to help me lay out her things?”

With a nod the girl stepped forward. When she was done she gave Simon a dismayed look. “Gee-Gee's silver hairbrush and comb aren't here. And neither is her broach that she kept for special occasions.”

“Those were probably things her brother wanted as his own mementos,” Simon said calmly.

Other than a few articles of clothing, there wasn't much to be had. A carved wooden box that held sewing implements; a hat that was decorated with two silk flowers, a feather and a hatpin; a couple of lace handkerchiefs and some other odds and ends. One by one the children stepped up and selected an item.

Fern took the hatpin from the hat.

Rose, Molly and Tessa each searched through the contents of the sewing box. Rose took a small decorative pair of scissors, Tessa a brass-handled darning egg and Molly took a silver thimble.

Audrey took a lace fan that had seen better days.

And Lily took a lace handkerchief.

Harry found a magnifying glass in the sewing box and Russell took the box itself. Joey took the feather from the hat and Albert took her wire-rimmed spectacles.

When they were finished Simon returned the few remaining items to the trunk and shut it. “Now, those things you selected are yours, to use however you like. Consider them early Christmas gifts from Miss Fredrick.”

Each of the children nodded silently.

“So, upstairs with you and unpack those trunks I brought back from Hatcherville.”

Once they were alone, Eileen turned to Simon. “I hadn't realized you were such a sentimental man.”

He shrugged, seeming uncomfortable with that label. “I just figured they needed something of hers to hold on to.”

“I would say you figured correctly.” She thought of the small wooden cigar box the housekeeper had retrieved for her from her father's study after his funeral. It was the only thing she still had of his, and she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Yes, Simon had done a very good thing for those children.

* * *

The next morning, as soon as the children left for school, Simon headed out to find some work. Eileen had her doubts, but when he came back at lunchtime he already had a new job well underway.

“Eldon Dempsey hired me to do some work around his farm.” Simon's voice indicated he was pleased. “His roof needs some work and he's putting in some new fences. The job should take me a couple of days.”

Eileen didn't know Mr. Dempsey, other than to greet him in church. He was an older man who owned a small farm outside of town. But the job sounded like simple manual labor. Didn't Simon know that he was capable of so much more?

“I met Hank Chandler over at the lumber mill when I went to pick up some supplies we needed,” Simon continued. “Hank's going to let me work there part-time when I get through at the Dempsey place.”

“Have you worked in a lumber mill before?” She'd only seen inside the place one time. It seemed a loud, dusty, dirty place.

“Yes. It's hard work but not as difficult as some other things I've done.”

“Are you sure you wouldn't rather talk to Adam about getting a job at the bank? It would be easier work.” And cleaner.

Simon grimaced. “I wouldn't be much use sitting at a desk or behind a teller window all day—I'm much happier working with my hands. Besides, I already shook hands with Hank on taking the job.”

He snatched one of the biscuits Dovie had baked to go with their lunch. “I'm going to barter with Hank for some scrap lumber so I can set up a place in the carriage house for the chickens to roost.”

That brought her up short. “What chickens?”

“The chickens Mr. Dempsey is going to give me in exchange for the work I'm doing for him.” He pinched off a piece of the biscuit, his expression turning thoughtful. “I suppose they can just roost on the rafters until I build something more suitable, but it would be helpful to have some nesting boxes for them as soon as possible.”

Eileen brought the conversation back to what she considered the salient point. “He's paying you in
chickens?
”

Simon nodded, a boyishly proud grin on his face. “It was my idea.”

“But what in the world am I going to do with a flock of chickens after you are gone?”

He frowned as if she'd said something nonsensical. “You'll still want eggs to eat after we're gone, won't you? And you can sell any extra they produce to the mercantile for pin money.”

That gave Eileen pause. Another source of income, however small, would be welcome. And how difficult could it be to care for chickens? “I suppose, if you want to take responsibility for getting it all set up, I won't stand in your way.”

Then she had another thought. “Do you know anything about raising chickens?”

“Of course. I spent the first eleven years of my life on a farm.”

Interesting. It made her want to ask him what had happened to change that, but she held her tongue.

“And I'll teach you so you can continue after we leave,” he added. Then he gave her another grin. “And don't worry. When I go to work at the lumber mill, most of my pay will be in the form of cash. I'll have money to contribute to our expenses.”

“Mr. Tucker, I have never asked you for payment, nor do I intend to. You and the children are my guests, not my boarders.”

“I appreciate that distinction. And I gratefully accept your offer of a roof over our head. But if we're going to be here long-term, and it looks like we probably will be, I insist on contributing to the grocery bill. It's the only fair thing to do.”

“Very well. But I will only take food money—nothing else.”

“By the way, I've asked around about this Thanksgiving Festival the kids mentioned. It seems like that is a big deal around here.”

“It's the biggest community-wide event we have. Except perhaps for the picnic and fireworks display we have on Independence Day.”

“Well, we'll be long gone before July gets here, but since we'll still be around for Thanksgiving, and you just accepted my help with the food bill, you can count on me to contribute a ham or goose to the menu.”

“But—”

“You and Dovie can provide the dessert.” Simon was obviously not going to take no for an answer. “I'm partial to pumpkin pie, by the way, if anyone's interested.”

She decided to accept his offer graciously. “Very well.” Then she raised a brow. “But I make no promises as to what kind of pie we'll be bringing. I'm rather partial to buttermilk myself.”

Simon watched her walk away, appreciating the added bounce in her step. No doubt about it, she was warming to him.

* * *

The next day was Saturday, which meant no school. It also meant it was laundry day. With so many people in her house, Eileen had moved laundry day to a day when there were all hands available to assist. The only person excused was Simon, who headed out for work as soon as breakfast was over.

Simon had built her some additional lines in the backyard to handle the increased volume of laundry, and he'd also come up with the idea of lining the wheelbarrow with an old sheet and using it to transport the heavy loads of laundry from the washtubs to the lines.

Eileen was very glad she had a wringer machine, but still it took all morning to get the washing done. The clothing was washed first and then beds were stripped and dirty towels and napkins collected.

She made it clear everyone was to pitch in, boys included. Those not actively working on the laundry were put to work dragging the rugs from the various rooms in the house outside and beating them to get the dirt out.

By lunchtime everything was finally hung on the line to dry. Her helpers all looked worn-out. She figured she wasn't going to hear any objections today when it came to sending them to their rooms for quiet time after lunch.

And she was right.

Later that afternoon, when she was taking the now-dry laundry from the lines, Simon arrived riding in a small horse-drawn wagon. The children immediately abandoned their chores to crowd around him.

“Where'd you get the horse and wagon?” Russell asked.

“Can we keep it?” Albert asked.

“Hank over at the mill loaned it to me so I could get my lumber here. I'm bringing it back to him as soon as I get it all unloaded.” Simon singled out the two boys who'd just spoken up. “You two want to lend me a hand with this?”

The boys enthusiastically complied, while Eileen called the others back to help her finish collecting the laundry.

A chicken coop in her carriage house. What in the world could she look forward to next?

But she was smiling as she contemplated the possibilities.

Chapter Twenty

B
efore the church service on Sunday morning, Simon asked permission to address the congregation.

“First off, I want to say thank you again to you folks. All of you have been extraordinarily kind to a group of strangers who landed in your midst. Most of you have probably heard that we're going to be sticking around a bit longer than we expected. Thanks to Mrs. Pierce, we have a place to stay, but I don't want to continue to trespass on your generosity, so thank you for all you've done this past week, but starting right now, you no longer need to provide us with the food for our meals.”

He nodded toward a man sitting in the third pew. “Thanks to Hank Chandler there, I have a job, so I should be able to purchase food for our table myself.” He spread his hands, hoping to strike a neighborly tone. “The mill is not taking up all my time, though. So if any of you have a need for a handyman, I'm available and more than happy to accept the chance to do an honest day's work.”

Then, with a thank-you to Reverend Harper, he headed back down the aisle.

He received several smiles and friendly nods as he made his way to his pew. Hopefully that would lead to a job or two. But his gaze was focused on Eileen. Seeing the light of approval there was quite gratifying.

* * *

Eileen watched him walk back to his seat and saw the positive impact his little speech had made with the folks in the congregation. Not that she'd had any doubts on that score. He was a personable man with a forthright, honest air. Who wouldn't respond to that?

And his assurance that he was ready to take responsibility for his and the kids' meals was admirable. There was no getting around it, Simon Tucker was a good man.

And perhaps, just maybe, some of his likableness was splashing over on her. Folks were actually smiling her way again. Would it last beyond his stay here?

After the service, Eileen noticed that Simon received several offers of work. Most of it was of the manual labor variety, but that didn't seem to bother him at all.

Still, if she could just steer him to something of the office or even shopkeeper variety, surely he'd be happier. After all, didn't all men have aspirations to better their lots in life?

Later that day she decided to broach the subject again.

“I know you said working with your hands is what you're good at, but I think you're selling yourself short.”

His expression hardened. “I've tried working in an office before. It didn't work out.”

His tone made it clear he wouldn't welcome further discussion. Had he had a bad experience? How could she convince him to give it another chance?

* * *

Monday morning dawned overcast and chilly.

Simon took inventory of what rainy day protection the children had and found they were woefully lacking. Audrey and Albert each had a heavy wool cape that would repel a light rain. Russell had an oiled canvas coat that had belonged to his father. Other than Simon's own slicker, that was it.

Dovie appeared a moment later with a heavy wool cape. “Here. This is old but it'll keep the wearer dry.”

“Thank you.” Simon handed his own slicker to Rose and Dovie's cape to Fern. “Let's hope it doesn't rain before school lets out,” he told the children, “but if you do have to walk home in the rain, you all share as best you can to help Harry, Tessa and Lily stay dry, too.”

* * *

The rain held off the first part of the morning, but by ten-thirty there was a light mist in the air.

Joey had spent much of the morning on the back porch playing with his tin soldiers. But when Eileen stepped out the back door to make certain he was staying dry, he wasn't there. His toy soldiers lay in a forlorn pile, but Joey himself was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, she stepped back into the kitchen, where Dovie was cooking and Molly was playing house with Flossie under the table.

“Did Joey come back inside?” she asked them.

“I haven't seen him.” Dovie gave her a puzzled frown but didn't seem particularly worried.

“Me and Flossie didn't see him, neither,” Molly called out.

“Either,” Eileen corrected absently. The memory of Harry's accident was still fresh enough to make her nervous. “I certainly hope he hasn't gone out in this weather. He could get a chill.”

She stepped back out on the porch and went to the top of the steps. She called his name a couple of times, but he didn't answer. Then she noticed the door to the carriage house was open. Had he decided to play in there?

Worried about all the sharp-edged tools that were stored inside, she lifted her shawl to protect her head from the drizzle and headed for the outbuilding at a trot.

When she reached the door she pulled her shawl back to her shoulders as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the shadowy interior. But her ears were working just fine and she could hear Joey talking to someone.

“Joey, are you okay?”

“Yes ma'am. But you're scaring him.”

Scaring who? She heard some scrabbling sounds and was finally able to make out the shadowy form of Joey, kneeling on the floor and bent over an animal of some sort.

Her protective instincts kicked in and she rushed to the boy's side. “What is that? Move away.”

She put her hands on his shoulders, trying to urge him to move away.

But Joey didn't budge. “It's a puppy and it's hurt. We need to help him.”

Eileen wasn't so sure about that. But now that her eyes had fully adjusted she could see that it was indeed a small dog. The animal was wet, dirty, and there seemed to be something wrong with its right front paw.

She'd heard once that injured animals were the most dangerous, which meant her first priority had to be to make certain Joey was safe. “Move aside,” she said more firmly. “I'll take a look at him.”

Joey looked at her doubtfully, then slid over to let her take his place. The animal lifted its head from the ground to stare at her, but it appeared weak and after a moment set its head back down again. The animal's gaze remained on her, though, as if waiting for her to do something.

Her heart went out to the poor thing. Joey was right—they had to help it. But how?

“I think he's hungry,” Joey said. “Do you think we can give him something to eat?” He looked at Eileen earnestly. “He can have my lunch.”

Eileen smiled at the boy's sincerity. “I think we can find something else for him to eat without you giving up your meal.” They would need to clean the animal up, too, if they were going to see what was wrong with his paw.

She wished Simon were here; he'd know what to do. Should they keep the dog shut inside here until Simon returned?

No, if she did that Joey would insist on staying with the creature and she couldn't have that.

With a sigh, she made the only sensible decision. Slipping off her shawl, she turned to Joey. “Go on inside and ask Dovie to find our friend here something to eat and then put the big kettle of water on the stove.”

“What are you going to do?” Joey's tone held an edge of suspicion.

Eileen began to gently wrap the dog in her shawl. “Something I'll very likely regret.”

At his worried look, she smiled reassuringly. “Don't worry. I will take good care of him.”

With a nod, Joey jumped up and raced to the house to do as she asked. Eileen slowly finished wrapping the animal, careful not to touch its injured paw, then stood with him tucked securely in her arms. The poor thing was shivering, but it looked at her trustingly.

With another sigh, Eileen pulled the animal against her chest and headed for the door. Naturally the rain chose that moment to go from a drizzle to a full-blown shower.

* * *

Simon took off his wet boots on the back porch and shook the water from his hat before entering the kitchen. He was definitely ready for a nice hot bowl of the soup Dovie had been preparing when he'd left this morning.

He stepped inside the kitchen and then halted on the threshold. What in the world—

Joey and Molly sat on the floor, and Joey had a dog on his lap that he was feeding what looked to be biscuits soaked in broth.

But more remarkable than that, Eileen sat on a chair nearby, her dress damp and covered in muddy smears, and she was attempting to dry her hair with a towel.

It was the first time he'd seen her with her hair down and she looked so completely different it left him speechless. Always before, her hair had been pinned up in a perfectly smooth, tidily arranged bun. What he saw now was a gloriously wild full mane, long wavy tresses that danced and twisted with a mind of their own. And oh, my, was that a set of bare toes peeking at him from the hem of her dress?

For a moment he couldn't even breathe.

“Uncle Simon! Look, I have my puppy!”

Joey's exuberant exclamations brought Simon's thoughts back down to earth and allowed him to collect himself before Eileen could catch him staring.

“I named him Buddy,” Joey added proudly.

“That's a fine name for a dog.” Simon crossed the room and crouched down in front of the dog. “And just where did Buddy come from?”

“Joey founded him in the carriage house,” Molly answered. “And Mrs. Pierce brought him inside so we could feed him and doctor him up.”

Simon cut a quick look Eileen's way.
She'd
brought the animal inside? That explained the smears on her damp dress. But what could explain her change of heart?

Her cheeks warmed guiltily under his stare, and he found himself totally enchanted by this more vulnerable and feminine Eileen.

But Molly's words got through to him and he turned back to the kids. “Doctor him? What's wrong?”

“Buddy has a boo-boo on his paw,” Molly said.

“We gave him a bath so we could see it better,” Joey added. “But he won't let us touch it.”

“I figured we'd let the poor thing eat before we give it another try,” Eileen said. “He seemed practically starved to death.”

“Let me have a look.” Simon bent closer to study the animal's paw without touching it. There seemed to be something stuck inside the sensitive pad of his foot. Knowing what he had to do, Simon stood and looked at Eileen, trying to gauge if she was up for this.

Telling himself she would have to be, he turned to Joey. “Hand Buddy over to Mrs. Pierce, please.”

Apparently recognizing the seriousness in Simon's tone, Joey stood and gave the animal to Eileen, who'd already set aside her towel.

“What are you going to do?” Joey asked.

“I'm going to remove whatever is jammed in his paw. But I'm afraid he's not going to like it.”

“Will it hurt him?” Molly asked, hugging Flossie against her chest.

“Yes it will, sweet pea. But it's the only way to help him heal and get better.”

He looked at the two children, who both seemed ready to cry. “Why don't you both go in the parlor until we're done here?”

Dovie stepped forward. “I think that's a good idea. And I'll go with you. Buddy probably doesn't want you to see him cry.”

When they had left the room, Simon turned back to Eileen. “I need you to hold him as still as possible. From what I can see, whatever is stuck in his foot has a barb on the tip and this is not going to be very pleasant for him.”

Her eyes widened. “I don't know. Perhaps Dovie would be better—”

“You're perfectly capable of doing this.” Then he gave her a smile. “Besides, not only does it seem you're the one who brought Buddy into the house, but it seems you're already dressed for the part.”

She glanced down at the dirt on her dress and grimaced. Then she looked up, apprehension drawing her brows down. “But what if I can't hold him still?”

“Just do the best you can.” He picked up her discarded towel. “I'm going to wrap him snugly in this to make him easier to contain.” He quickly put his words to action and in no time at all Buddy was securely wrapped with only his injured leg free.

Simon took a deep breath then met Eileen's gaze. “Ready?”

Her eyes were huge and apprehension fairly thrummed from her, but she tightened her hold on the dog and gave him a nod.

Admiring her strength, he took firm hold of the animal's paw. Praying he wouldn't have to resort to his pocketknife to dig the offending item out, Simon went to work.

Buddy's yelps and howls were painful to hear, and Simon could imagine how the children in the parlor were reacting. At one point he looked up to check on Eileen and saw how white her face had turned, but she gamely held on and uttered not a word.

At last it was done, and Simon leaned back, the ugly-looking thorn in his hand. As he'd suspected, the thing had a barb on the tip and it hadn't come out without inflicting a great deal of pain on the poor dog.

Simon rubbed the animal's head, softly. “I'm sorry, Buddy. But I promise it was for your own good.”

“Will his foot get better now?”

Simon looked up, surprised by the raw concern in Eileen's voice. He unwrapped Buddy and set him on the floor without taking his gaze from Eileen's. Then he gently brushed a stray tendril of that glorious hair from her cheek. “You did good. Assuming an infection doesn't set in, Buddy should be much better in a week or so.”

The kitchen door opened and Joey and Molly peeked inside, with Dovie standing behind them. “Is he better now?” Joey asked fearfully.

“The thorn is out, but his paw is still going to be very tender for a while.”

“Poor Buddy,” Molly said as she came closer. “We're going to take real good care o' you so you can get all the way better.”

“I'll get some gauze to bandage it up,” Dovie said. “And I know how to make up a poultice for drawing out infection. If it works on people, I dare say it'll work on dogs, too.”

Joey squatted down next to Buddy again. The boy looked up at Simon. “I can keep him, can't I?”