Small Treasures (15 page)

She reached for the bundle of clothes she'd left at the edge of the bed, then carried them to the still lopsided table. Sorting through them, Abby picked out a pair of Samuel's long Johns, laid them out across the table, and snatched up her sewing kit. Quickly, she threaded a needle then began the long task of mending the poor man's clothes. There were more rips, tears, and worn spots in Samuel's clothing than she'd ever seen before.

Actually, she told herself, his and Luke's clothes were in the same sad shape. She shook her head slowly as she realized that the two males were probably much more alike than they would admit to.

She'd noticed it right away. They both had the same haunted, lonely shadows in their eyes. They each acted surprised when she did something for them. Even something as simple as baking cookies. Abby chuckled softly. The two of them had eaten an entire batch of sugar cookies just the day before. So, she'd gotten up early today to make more and knew they'd probably be gone by nightfall.

Abby smiled as her needle whipped expertly through the faded material. This is what she'd yearned for. A place to belong. People who needed her. Her own man. Children.

She stopped. Samuel? Yes, she smiled. Samuel. Maybe she'd known it from that first night, but now she was sure of it. He was the man she'd waited and prayed for. All she had to do was help him realize how much he needed her.

The hammering at the back of the cabin intruded on her thoughts, but now the sound was pleasant. Samuel was here. Softly she began to sing.

Samuel reached for another board from the slowly shrinking pile of lumber, then stood up and stretched his tired muscles. The sooner he got this room built, the better he'd like it. Between Abby's tempting presence and Luke's tossing and turning, he felt as though he hadn't slept in a year.

He looked down at what would soon be Abby's room and ignored the fact that he was building it exactly where she had decided it should go. After all, it was the only place that made sense, he told himself. He certainly wasn't doing it just to please her.

Frowning, Samuel picked up his hammer again but stopped in midswing and listened.

She was singing. He knew the song. "Green-sleeves." Abby's voice moved over the old, familiar words like a kind friend, filling the air with sudden warmth. He leaned his fore arm on his bent knee and allowed himself a moment to enjoy her presence.

Her low, soothing voice warmed him every bit as much as the late morning sun. Samuel stared out at the land surrounding him and realized with a start that his customary ache of loneliness was gone. Before Abby came into his life, all he'd seen in the country around him was the emptiness. The unbearable silence of his self-enforced solitude.

Now, with the magic of her voice touching him, he finally knew what other men must know and take for granted. The quiet peace and comfort of knowing that someone else is near. He smiled.

Then his smile froze on his face as he heard the unmistakable sound of wagons rolling into the yard. Voices, a lot of them, talking, laughing, shouting. Samuel dropped his hammer in disgust. Peace and comfort? he told himself silently. Not likely.

Luke came running from the chicken coop and reached the two wagons at the same time Abby stepped out of the cabin. Quickly she looked around the empty yard for signs of Samuel. She caught just a glimpse of him as he poked his head around the corner of the cabin. He ducked out of sight immediately, and Abby knew she couldn't wait to greet her guests before going to fetch him. Otherwise, she knew he'd disappear.

She tossed a smile at Minerva, Charity, and their families, then lifted the hem of her skirt and ran for the back of the cabin. She'd been right. As Abby rounded the corner, she saw that Samuel was already halfway toward the woods and moving quickly.

While she was running toward him, Abby decided to pretend that she hadn't seen his furtive peek at their guests and that she had no idea that he was running away.

"Samuel," she called and grabbed at his arm.

He didn't stop, merely slowed down. "Got some things to do, Abby."

"Well," she went on as she dragged him to a stop. "I'm so glad I caught you before you left, then." She took a few gulps of air and laid her palm on her chest, trying to quiet her breathing. "We have guests, Samuel. Minerva, Charity, and their families just arrived. I know you wouldn't want to miss them."

He cleared his throat uneasily and managed to avoid looking into her golden eyes. "Yeah, well… "

"Come along, Samuel." She tugged at his arm but didn't budge him. "We can't let them continue to sit out in their wagons."

Why not? Samuel wondered silently. He hadn't asked 'em to come. He didn't want 'em there. He glanced down at her shining face, so full of excitement over unexpected visitors, and knew that she would never understand his feelings about people. Hell, it was getting so that even he didn't understand anymore.

"Please, Samuel," she asked quietly, her eyes watching his features carefully.

"But I got a lot to do, Abby… " he started.

"Can't it wait?"

She laid her hand on his, and the warmth of her touch swayed him as no words could have done. He read the hope in her eyes and the anxiousness of her expression and knew that he couldn't disappoint her.

Swallowing back his reluctance, Samuel forced a smile. "All right, Abby."

She grinned happily at him, linked her arm through his, and started for the cabin at a fast walk. "Isn't this nice, Samuel?" she chattered. "A surprise visit. Just like it used to be back home in Maryland. Why, then the neighbors would just decide to go out calling on other folks for no reason at all… and it was such fun!"

He nodded grimly. Oh, and Samuel," Abby added excitedly, they've brought their children today, too! Won't Luke be pleased?"

Oh, Lord, Samuel groaned. It ain't enough he's got one woman and a child around the place. No, now there's got to be wagonloads of 'em.

The Whitehall and Mullins families were all standing around in the yard waiting for their hosts when Abby and Samuel walked up.

Luke and the others were making enough noise to account for thirty children, though Samuel could only count nine including Luke. Reluctantly he allowed Abby to draw him closer to the adults standing uncertainly alongside the wagons.

"Minerva! Charity!" Abby sang out. "It's so nice of you to come calling!"

"Well," Minerva said, "we got to talkin' and decided that if we was to come up and see how you was gettin' along, we'd best do it soon. My achy knee tells me snow'll be comin' mighty thick this winter."

"But it's a lovely day," Abby protested.

"Likely will be for a few weeks yet," Minerva agreed, raking her gaze across the deep blue sky. "But then you'd best be ready to stay inside by the fire."

Samuel shifted uncomfortably under the direct stares of Charity and Buck Whitehall. Minerva didn't seem angry anymore over the boy's fight, but from the looks the big black smith was throwin', he wasn't any too pleased to be drug along on this visit.

Alonzo Mullins, though, stepped up to Samuel and extended his hand. Over their hand shake Alonzo said with a grin, "Minerva wanted to come for a visit… Me, I got to thinkin' about that nice trout stream up here." He rubbed one hand over his stubbly cheeks. "Used to do a little fishin' with Silas now and again." He tossed a wary glance at Abby, and Samuel knew the man meant that they went fishin' whenever Silas was sober. Which wasn't very often.

"Anyways," Alonzo went on, "thought maybe you and me and Buck here could catch us a few fish before the big snows come."

Samuel felt a smile growing inside him. He hadn't been fishing in a mighty long time. And he'd never gone fishing with a friend. He looked at Abby and caught her smile. She was pleased for him, he knew. Maybe she did understand how it was with him and other folks. Maybe.

"What a wonderful idea," Abby crowed delightedly. "And I just know that Luke would love to go fishing!"

Maybe not, Samuel told himself. "Luke?" he said quietly.

"Yes." Abby nodded.

"That there's a good idea, Abby!" Minerva joined in. "Why, the menfolk can take all the children with 'em. Be good for 'em for a change."

"Sounds good to me," Charity offered, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived.

"Now, Minerva," Alonzo said on a sigh, "if those young'uns come with us, we'll never catch a fish. Their caterwaulin' will scare every fish for miles clean off the mountain!"

"Hmmph!" Minerva shook her finger at her husband, then included Buck and Samuel in her comments. "If you three grown-up men can't make some children be quiet for a while, what good are you?"

"I ain't takin' my three," Buck said and threw a proud smile at the other two men.

"Oh, yes, you are, Buck Whitehall!" Charity glared at him, and the big man's expression changed instantly. "I got them three underfoot all day every day. You can damn well have a day yourself once in a while."

Abby knew how to settle the matter. "Luke!" she shouted and smiled when the boy and his new friends came running from the barn. As Luke skidded to a stop in front of her, she asked, "How would you like to go fishing with Samuel and his friends?"

Samuel's eyebrows shot up. His friends?

A grin flashed across the boy's small face, then disappeared. He looked from Samuel to Abby before saying softly, "Don't know how. Ain't never been before."

Abby tilted her head and stared up at Samuel. But there was no need. Samuel had seen the excitement fade from the boy's face to give way to disappointed embarrassment. Briefly he wondered what kind of life Luke had led before he'd shown up on the mountain. Samuel couldn't imagine a boy his age never having been fishing before. Why, even Samuel had spent many a summer afternoon sitting on a riverbank with a pole in his hands. Sometimes you didn't even have to catch anything to enjoy yourself. The pleasure was in the sittin' and waitin'.

Abby opened her mouth, but Samuel said quickly, "Well, then, boy, it's high time you learned how."

Luke's gaze flew up to meet the big man's. Disbelief warred with delight in the child's shadowed brown eyes.

"Get goin'. There's some poles in the barn. You go fetch 'em." Samuel jerked his head at the building across the yard. When the boy didn't move right away, he added, "Well, come on! Them fish ain't gonna wait forever!"

Luke took off like a shot for the barn. Obadiah turned to his father hopefully and asked, "Me, too, Pa? Can I come?"

Alonzo glanced at his wife before nodding. "Yeah. I reckon you can all come along." He pointed off at the chicken coop. "Go and get your brothers."

Buck grumbled something unintelligible, then called to his children. Turning back to his wife, he said, "Hope you're satisfied, woman! We ain't gonna be bringin' back much fish!"

"Just enough for dinner, Buck." The plump woman smiled at her husband and waited. In seconds Buck smirked, kissed Charity's cheek, then swatted her backside playfully.

"Awright. But remember" — he pointed at her — "we catch 'em. You all cook 'em."

"We'll be ready," Abby said and watched enviously as Alonzo stepped up to his wife and gave her a kiss before turning to get his poles from the back of the wagon. She looked at Samuel hopefully, not sure really what she wanted from him. But she did know that the sudden feeling of family, of belonging, was fading in the realization that she and Samuel were not like the two other couples. They shared no history together. They didn't smile at secret exchanges. And the only child they had between them was like themselves. He didn't belong anywhere, either.

Still, she couldn't let Samuel leave without trying to express what she was feeling. As Minerva and Charity got their respective children ready for an afternoon with their fathers, Abby followed Samuel to the corral.

He was leaning on the top fence rail, his strong forearms crossed over each other, his expression blank as he stared at the surrounding pines.

She stepped up beside him and laid her hand on his right arm. He didn't turn to look at her but kept his gaze fixed on the woods.

"Samuel," she said, unsure of how to proceed. His arm flexed beneath her hand, and once again she was astonished at the sheer strength of him. Unconsciously her fingers moved lightly over his tanned flesh until his hand clamped down over hers, stilling her actions.

"Don't," he groaned softly.

Stung, she tried to pull away. But he wouldn't release her. Her gaze lifted to his, and she was surprised to see the raw hunger in his eyes. Abby's breath caught, but she couldn't bring herself to look away. She was held fast by her own matching need. The flesh of his jaw, still a shade lighter than the rest of his face for having been hidden by a beard for so long, twitched nervously. His lips were compressed into a tight line, and his eyes begged her not to push him any further.

Abby hadn't intended to kiss him. Only to somehow let him know that she… cared for him. But now, faced with the knowledge that he shared her desires, she couldn't turn away. Just as she knew that he would not be the one to initiate a kiss.

Deliberately she held his gaze with her own as she rose up on her toes to reach him. She noted absently that his massive chest expanded with his indrawn breath and that he didn't release it. Their guests, Luke, the animals, everything faded away into nothingness as Abby moved closer to her goal. Hesitantly she touched her lips to his and loved the clean shaven feel of him. She heard him moan softly as his hand tightened over hers. But he made no other movement. Even his mouth refused to relax. If not for the grip he had on her fingers, Abby would have thought him completely unmoved by her kiss. Instead, she knew that he was using every ounce of his great strength to hold himself in check.

She pulled back and watched him. His eyes were shuttered now, but it didn't matter. Abby was convinced that Samuel cared for her. She was just as sure that it would be up to her to make him admit it. She just had to figure out how.

Charity stared at the bundling board and shook her head. It was still hard for her to imagine a man and woman sharing a bed and lettin' a little thing like a plank of wood stop 'em from…