Serendipity (5 page)

Mr. Carver walked to the stallion. “You won’t find a stronger mount than Adam. Has endless stamina, but he’s stubborn as sin. He’ll save your life if you let his judgment prevail.”

“Belgians – they are smart.” Todd extended his hand so the horse could catch his scent. Even in the meager light of one lantern he could see Adam clearly rated as one of the best of his breed. Honor warred with need. “Your niece – she is a good woman, but people sometimes do not appreciate what a certain horse means to his owner. If you would rather I use the gelding . . .”

“You gave your word to abide by the horse’s inclinations, so it’s only right that I lend the smartest mount I own.”

Looking into the man’s unwavering gaze, Todd knew he’d freely given not only his consent, but his blessing. “Thank you.” As Todd turned to grab a saddle blanket, Adam nuzzled the huge mare in the adjoining stall.

“Stop being a lover boy,” Mr. Carver muttered as he produced a halter. Adam was ready to ride in mere minutes.

Rapidly winding his scarf around his lower face and neck, Todd nodded. “He’s good-tempered.”

“
Hmmpf.
When she awakens, your ma’s going to be a handful. Ain’t a creature on earth more high-strung than a woman worrying over her child.” Mr. Carver pulled a stubby pencil from his pocket and pointed at an unpainted board. “Before you hie off, leave us with the names and whereabouts of your kin. Don’t mistake my meaning – your ma would be treated like family here. Other than my wife, no other woman ever walked the face of the earth who cared more, worked harder, or had a bigger heart than my niece. But your ma deserves to be with her own if the worst happens.”

Arletta couldn’t be reached. Even if she could, his sister let him know Ma permanently wore out her welcome. Ignoring the pencil, Todd strode toward the stallion. “The worst cannot happen. I’m all my mother has. I will return.”

As Mr. Carver went to the door, Todd swung up into the saddle. About two thousand pounds of powerful horseflesh rippled beneath him, testifying to God’s providence.
Lord, I put my trust in you. Lead
me to safety so Ma can have the best of care. Amen
. Todd kneed the horse and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

The stallion stood stock-still.

Some horses were trained with a jiggle of the reins. The Belgian’s only reaction to that cue plopped onto the straw behind them.

“Barn-sour, saddle-backed mares move better,” Todd muttered.

Adam set out, took one step, and then shook his head. A firm hand on the reins, a tightened clamp against the beast’s sides with his knees, and Todd gained his cooperation. Adam took a few more steps and corrected course.

This stallion needed praise and encouragement, but he’d do well. Many a horse needed a coaxing – not often this long, but Todd felt as well as saw the change. The tension that came with carrying an unfamiliar rider eased out of Adam’s muscles. A solid pat on his slightly arched neck acknowledged the trust. Man and beast had an understanding.

Todd felt some of his own tension ease as he urged Adam ahead. Carver opened the barn door, and snow gusted in. Adam huffed to clear away a few flakes he’d inhaled and kept walking . . . in a large arc back into his stall.

“The snow may let up in the morning. I’ll try again then.” Mr. Valmer set a pair of crates inside the kitchen. Without another word, he walked back outside.

“Margaret Titania,” Uncle Bo’s voice held an unnecessary warning tone. This was the second time today he’d used her middle name. “No more sneaky tricks. That’s a smart man.” He shook his finger at her. “He reckoned Adam’s a clever horse, but if you pull another stunt, you’ll rightfully incite Valmer’s wrath. No man appreciates a woman making a fool of him.”

“I didn’t make a fool of him. I owed it to his mother to keep him from killing himself. Her heart would break if she lost him – and I’d have failed them both.”

Uncle Bo pursed his lips, stared at her, and finally nodded. “Reckoned you’d say something like that. These crates are for your treasures. Start a-packin’. Whilst you have both a cot and a patient in there, stuff ’s liable to get broke. ’Specially with her strapping son hovering.”

“He’s got rare wide shoulders and huge hands.”

Uncle Bo shot her a telling look.

“I noticed because he needs a change of clothes, just as his mama did.” A little niggle of doubt crept into her mind. Was that the only reason? His stature and strength were among the very first things she noticed about him. His deep blue eyes . . . Well, she’d had to pay attention to those in the first few moments, too, to take his measure. And his wet denims had clung to long muscular legs.
I noticed his hair’s sandy-colored, too – and there’s nothing untoward
about simple observations.

“Seein’ as your scheme trapped him here, best you pack away all that you can. The nicest things from the parlor, too.”

Dread swamped her. While the men ate supper, she overheard them weasel out the fact that Mr. Valmer was a bachelor. The notion of Uncle Bo playing matchmaker was enough to make her take to a sickbed herself. “I’ve no reason at all to pack anything from the parlor.”

“If you treasure them, you will. Big, brawny men cause a lot of unintentional damage in small places. One expansive gesture, and he’d sweep everything straight off a shelf. Little Magpie, we both know you could fill a dozen crates and barely take away a glimmer from the cave.”

Aladdin’s Cave. Daddy said she’d gladly live in Aladdin’s Cave, but Mama was from here in the holler and expressed herself in a more natural way. She’d said Maggie gathered up pretty things like magpie, and the nickname took. Uncle Bo knew her all too well – he’d said the very thing that would gain her cooperation. But she’d prove him wrong. From her trading trips, she’d learned to fit a lot in a small space. He predicted a dozen; she’d surprise him. “I’ll stack the crates in my bedchamber.” Needing to go sit with Mrs. Crewel again, Maggie washed her hands.

“Suppose storing them there’s a possibility. I’ll talk it over with Valmer.”

“That man’s got no call deciding on anything for me or my house. Certainly nothing about my – ”

“Sure he does.” Uncle Bo closed his hand around hers. “Maggie, my magpie, I gave him leave to sleep in your bed.”

Three

“You what?!”

“Now, Magpie – ”

“Don’t you
now
me!”

Looking wounded, Uncle Bo reared back. “You’ll need to sleep on a cot by Mrs. Crewel, and Mr. Valmer’s got to sleep somewhere.”

“We both know he should sleep at your house!”

“Granted, ’tis true, but Jethro and his daddy are having a set-to, so Paw-Paw sent Jerlund to spend the night at my place. He’s already upset, and Mr. Valmer’s not going to sleep a wink, worrying and not bein’ able to check on his ma.”

Thoughts tumbled through her mind. This was just what she and Uncle Bo had been hoping for – that Jerlund would come to Uncle Bo in a troubled time. Sensitive to others’ moods and any change, Jerlund wouldn’t settle in at Uncle Bo’s with Mr. Valmer there. If the first stay didn’t work well, he’d never go back again.

But it wasn’t right, having a man spend the night in her house. A big, strong, handsome man. Well, maybe it wasn’t so bad. His mama was in the house. That changed things
. But appearances count. And
this still gives a bad witness.
“The barn. He can sleep in the barn.”

“You’d withdraw the hospitality I extended?”

“How could you possibly allow a bachelor to stay here for a full three days until the storm passes?”

“Magpie, my lass, I trust you full well.” He hooked his thumbs into his suspenders. “Aye, and I’ve taken that man’s measure. He’s one you could ride the river with.”

Inhaling so sharply she set herself into coughing, Maggie made a sound of disbelief between coughs.

“I’m giving you just what you asked for, lass. This very day, you said God could ‘send that groom on by. God or groom – them I’ll listen to.’ You made that deal, and I’m holding you to it.”

“Hold your horses!” Grabbing him by the arms, she resisted the urge to shake some sense into her uncle. “Just because Mr. Valmer’s a man doesn’t automatically turn him into my groom.”

“He’s the most promising prospect around.” Uncle Bo brushed a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the one who let the man stay when everyone wanted to pitch him out.”

“He carried an ill woman.”

Smiling as if he’d won the final point in a debate, Uncle Bo stepped back. “Can’t get a better recommendation than that. Men wind up treating their wives just like they treat their mother and sisters. Feelin’ concerned ’bout his loved one, he wants to stay close. You can’t fault a man for doing something praiseworthy.”

Making a living by bartering taught her plenty. Cocking a brow, Maggie said, “Whenever someone talks fast and fancy as you are, I know better than to trade. They’re trying to pass off a skunk as a swan.”

“I’m not trading a-tall, lassie. I’m fixin’ to go on home. Calm Jerlund. Talk to the Lord. I reckon this buck can talk for himself.” The kitchen door opened. Bo lowered his voice. “But you can’t listen to the man if he ain’t under your roof.”

The next morning Todd looked expectantly at Miss Rose as she exited the room she and Ma shared. “Your mama’s looking much the same this morning as she did last night.”

Disappointment hit him. “No improvement?”

Voice soft and steady, she said, “Making it through an entire day and night bodes well for survival. Her stability is encouraging.”

“Then I will be satisfied.” Walking toward Miss Rose, he noticed several objects were missing from the parlor, and a pair of crates sat beside the spindle chair. Another wave of disappointment hit. He would have rather she start ridding Ma’s room of some of the stuff. For Ma’s sake he’d offer to help pack after breakfast. Miss Rose already did far more than he should have hoped for.

Todd went to see Ma. She slept soundly. Looking up from her, he jolted. Instead of bursting at the seams, the room looked comparatively normal. “Where is everything?”

“My specials and sparkles? They’re in those crates in the corner.”

Frowning at the four crates, he chided, “They’re too heavy for you. You ought to have waited. I would have carried the others out for you.”

Miss Rose arched a brow. “I did wait. That’s all I needed.”

Todd’s jaw dropped. She’d rounded up all those bits and pieces, corralled them into . . . “Four crates?”

“Well, there are two in the parlor.” Miss Rose gestured to a shelf. “I kept out those angels so when Mrs. Crewel first awakens, she’ll be looking at a reminder of the Lord’s protection and mercy. She’ll have a few foggy days, resting up and gathering strength for the rough road ahead. Where are you bound for?”

“Gooding, Texas. I farm there. We’re a sight over halfway home.” Ma had always been strong, healthy. That would help her bounce back quickly. “Ma enjoys riding the train, watching out the window.”

“Seeing the countryside change . . .” Miss Rose’s smile returned. “It all goes by so quickly. Like taking a picture book and flipping through the pages real fast.”

Her description amused him. “Have you traveled much?”

“Each season I take the men’s carvings off to trade or sell.” Miss Rose straightened a lacy nightcap she’d put on Ma. “There.”

Ma would be horrified by that thing on her head and would gladly trade anything to get rid of the nightcap. Then again, Todd reasoned, it stood to reason if her apoplectic fit happened someplace in her head, keeping her brain warm would help it recover.