Small Treasures (16 page)

"Charity!"

She turned, flushing to meet Minerva's impatient gaze.

"Hmm?" Charity said. "What?"

"I was askin'," Minerva repeated, "if you'd got all the food arranged for the Coles' barn raisin' next week."

"Oh!" Charity looked guiltily from Minerva to Abby, then back again. For heaven's sake. She'd missed the whole conversation. "Uh, yes. Yes. It's all settled. Even Sarah.”

Minerva's eyebrows rose. "Yes… ?:

Charity frowned at her old friend. "Well, Sarah and her girls are part of the town, too. They wanted to do their share."

"Who's Sarah?" Abby asked.

Minerva shook her head at Charity's stubborn expression and answered, "Sarah Dumont runs the saloon and —"

"Now Minerva," Charity broke in, "it ain't kind to carry tales."

"Tales my great aunt Matilda!" Minerva turned to look at Abby. "Everybody knows that Sarah's two girls, well… "

Abby blushed. "Oh. I see."

"Anyway," Charity added quickly, "the Coles ain't gonna care if Sarah and the others bring along some food to this here gathering. As long as they get that barn up by winter."

"S'pose you're right," Minerva said. She turned to Abby. "I ain't got nothin' against Sarah, you understand. She's only doin' what she has to get by. And her girls, Stacey and Jennifer, are sweet little things. It's the menfolks’ reactions to 'em I don't like."

"What do you mean?" Abby asked quietly.

"Hmmph!" Charity snorted. "What she means is, the men take one little gander at Sarah and her girls and forget all about their wives."

Minerva straightened her hair. "Until we remind them, of course."

Charity grinned. "Yes, indeedy! Why d'ya think there's so many children in Rock Creek, Abby? I'll tell ya! 'Cause we're all the time remindin' our husbands, that's why!"

Minerva choked back her laugh for a moment, then let it go.

Abby smiled at the others and told herself that she could hardly wait for Samuel to get a look at Sarah. Maybe that would give Abby the courage she'd need to convince the big man they belonged together.

"Maccabee Mullins!" Alonzo stood up and hollered at his son again. "You get down outa that goddamned tree this minute! You hear?"

The boy giggled, and Alonzo cursed softly before sitting down once more. "Durn kids! Never listen to a damn thing. Probably fall outa that damn tree and break his fool neck. Minerva'll never let me hear the end of it!"

"Fortune!" Buck shouted at the redheaded boy leaning out over the stream. "You fall in again, and so help me, I'll let you drown!"

"Ah, Pa… "the boy whined.

"Don't 'ah, Pa' me," Buck warned. "Get away from there. Go on and look for gold with Jedediah and Ezekial."

Fortune Whitehall kicked at a rock, disgusted. "Gold! There ain't no gold out here. 'Sides, them two is babies!"

"Well, you can gold hunt or you can look out for your sisters!" Buck pointed down at his two daughters, Chance and Treasure. The four-and five-year-old girls wore identical blue and white dresses with white ribbons tied at the ends of their copper-red braids.

"I'll go with Zeke and Jed," Fortune answered quickly. Even three-and four-yearold boys were better than girls — especially at Fortune's advanced age of seven!

"I thought so," Buck mumbled, then shouted, "you two children stop that!" His daughters were scooping up handfuls of mud and rubbing it on each other. "Your mama's gonna skin me alive!" Quickly he brushed the mud out of the girl's hands and tossed a disgusted glance at his unused fishing pole. "Hell, I knew I wouldn't catch no fish today."

"Don't matter," Alonzo said on a laugh. "These three here already caught enough to feed everybody." He pointed to the boys at the stream edge. Luke, Obadiah, and his brother Nimrod did indeed have a long string of fish. "Sam," Alonzo said with a chuckle, "you must be a helluva teacher. That boy's gonna clean out this stream!"

Samuel smiled and caught Luke's excited glance. He would never forget the boy's expression when his first fish had nibbled at the hook. Delight, joy, surprise, and hesitation each took its turn on the boy’s features. Poor Luke was so afraid he'd lose that fish, he'd jerked his pole too hard and the fish had come flyin' out of the stream, narrowly missing Buck's head. The man had about choked to death on his chewing tobacco, and Alonzo laughed so hard he'd dropped his own pole into the swiftly moving stream.

Samuel grinned, remembering Luke's shaking hands as he took the still squirming fish from the hook and proudly added it to the stringer. After that first catch, Luke hadn't moved an inch away from the stream. For the last three hours the boy had done nothing but talk to Obadiah and Nimrod and study his pole for the telltale jerking of the bait.

Samuel had never spent such a pleasant day. He'd enjoyed Buck and Alonzo's conversations and for the first time in years got a taste of what friendship must be like. Even the children running up and down the bank, dropping out of trees, and falling into the stream didn't upset him. Because for some reason, none of the children were afraid of him. In fact, Nimrod had even allowed Samuel to tie a hook on his line.

Samuel glanced at the Whitehall girls and caught Treasure's gap-toothed smile. Her little fingers curled over in a wave, and he re turned it, only slightly embarrassed. Though Buck whined and complained about those two, Samuel saw the man's pleasure in his daughters and was himself more than a little envious.

"Sam! Sam!" Luke called excitedly. "I got another one!" Samuel leaned forward and whispered, "Take it slow, Luke. Like I showed you… "

"But thisn's a big one, Sam!" Luke's teeth ground together, and his scrawny arms strained with the weight of the fish.

"Hell, if it's that big, don't throw it around this time, boy." Buck laughed. "This'un might kill me!"

"Sam" — Luke ignored the other man —

"you gotta help me. I cain't get it by myself."

"Yeah, you can, boy," Samuel encouraged, moving closer. "Come on, Luke!" Obadiah cheered. "Bring 'er in," Nimrod added his voice to the crowd. "Just take it easy, boy." Alonzo was caught up in the fight.

Luke's scrawny back and shoulders moved with his effort, and the veins on his thin arms stood out. His lips pressed together, he concentrated solely on landing the prize fish at the end of his line.

"That's right, boy," Samuel said softly, "slow and steady. Don't jerk him. He'll come along soon's he's tired."

"Samuel… "

"It's all right, boy." Samuel laid his big hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm right here if you need me."

"I do!"

"Nah, you're doin' fine." Samuel wanted the boy to know the victory of winning the battle himself. But rather than see him lose the fish altogether, he was ready to jump in and help.

Luke stood and backed up slowly, keeping the line tight and his face a rigid mask of control. The fish leapt out of the water, and Obadiah gasped. "I swear, Luke, that one's a monster! Must weigh ten pounds!"

Luke's arms ached and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest, but he kept going.

"Almost, boy," Samuel crooned as he matched the boy's steps. "You about tired him out now. Just stay with him."

Luke took another two steps back, gave a mighty yank on his pole, and the granddaddy of all trout lay on the bank flopping madly.

"You did it!" Samuel grinned and clapped his hand down on the boy's shoulder. Luke looked up at him, a smile toying with his trembling lips. His narrow chest lifted and fell quickly with his shuddering breath. The boy looked at Obadiah and Nimrod, taking the fish off the hook, and he heard their words of praise. Luke's eyes filled, and he rubbed the back of his hand over them roughly. He took a deep breath, then suddenly dropped his pole and threw his arms around Samuel's waist.

Surprise shot through the big man but was quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. Pleasure raced through him as he looked down at the small boy plastered against him. Samuel knew exactly what the boy was feeling. He knew that terrible, over whelming mixture of joy and fear that it all would end somehow.

The others were busying themselves with the fish and gathering up the children to head back to the cabin. No one glanced at the boy and man.

Samuel'd never known the joy of a spontaneous burst of affection from a child, and he realized with a jolt how grateful he was to have been given this chance.

Awkwardly he ruffled the boy's hair with one hand and patted his back gently with the other. He hoped he was doing it right.

Chapter Eleven

The cookfire was dying. An occasional flame shot from the red-hot, crumbling wood and sent a shower of sparks into the dusk. The children, half asleep, lay sprawled around the circle, content to listen to the adults' low-pitched voices.

Abby looked around her with a smile on her face. It had been a lovely day. They'd all eaten outside, since the cabin was far too small to hold so many people. Dirty dishes and blackened pots lay scattered around the quiet group, and for once, Abby was in no hurry to begin cleaning up.

Instead, she wanted to enjoy the last moments of their impromptu party.

"Yeah, Sam," Buck was saying, "you're doin' a fine job on that room you're buildin'. If you need any help when it's time to lay the roof, you just give a holler."

Abby saw the surprise on Samuel's face, but he said nothing, only nodded.

Alonzo pulled a drowsy Ezekial onto his lap and said, "You're gonna be almighty handy at that barn raisin', Sam."

"I should smile." Buck chuckled. "Why, with Sam on our team, we're bound to win. Hell, we don't hardly need nobody else… "

"Win?" Abby asked quietly. "Win what?"

Minerva snorted and gently slapped Alonzo's thigh. "These men, Abby. They make a durn contest out of everything."

"No doubt there'll be bettin', too." Charity eyed Buck thoughtfully. Her husband gave her an innocent smile.

"What?" Abby asked again.

"Well, see," Alonzo started, "the menfolk split up into teams. Four of 'em. Then each team raises a side of the barn. First team to finish up proper, wins."

"The trick is" — Minerva's brows rose — "to make sure the dang fools don't kill themselves tryin'."

"Is there a prize?" Abby wanted to know. "Sometimes," Charity answered with a shake of her head. "But most often, not." "Hell," Buck intoned, "don't need a prize. It's enough to know you won."

"Yes," Minerva shot back, "so's you can throw it in the faces of the losers until the next raisin'."

Alonzo laughed. "Honey, that's half the fun!"

"So you say," his wife answered tartly as she pulled Ezekial from his lap. "We best get goin', 'Lonzo. These children are tuckered."

"Yeah." Alonzo groaned and pushed himself to his feet. "You're right, ol' girl. I'll get the team hitched. Want to get off the mountain before full dark."

"Us, too, Buck," Charity ordered, but her husband was already up and moving.

Abby looked over at Samuel. She saw his eyes follow the movements of the others and read her own disappointment at the end of the visit in his wistful smile. She wanted to go to him. Stand beside him while they said good night to their guests. She wanted to know she belonged with him.

"Abby?"

She looked down and smiled at Luke's half-closed eyelids. The poor child was asleep on his feet. "Yes?"

"All right if I go to bed now?" He stifled a yawn.

Abby looked up and saw that Obadiah and the other children were already bedding down in the backs of their parents' wagons. "Go ahead, Luke." She reached out and tentatively brushed his hair off his forehead. "You've had quite a day."

"Yes'm." The boy turned toward Samuel but kept his gaze on the ground. "I… uh… " Suddenly his gaze lifted. "Ah, hell. Thanks for takin' me fishin' with ya."

Samuel looked at the boy and saw for himself how hard it had been for Luke to say that. Damn, he wished he knew what to say to children. Right now he'd give just about anything to have the right words come to mind. He glanced at Abby and noticed the way she was watching him. Waiting. She'd prob'ly know just what to say to the kid. Samuel ran one hand over his face and said gruffly, "Had to take you. Hell, if it wasn't for you, we might not've had enough fish for this crowd to eat."

Luke's eyes widened, and a sudden grin lit up his face. Just as quickly then, he turned on his heel and ran for the cabin.

Samuel stared after him for a long moment.

"That pleased him," Abby whispered.

She'd stepped up beside him, and Samuel shifted uncomfortably. "Think so?" he wondered aloud.

"Yes." She laced her fingers through his even as he tried to pull his hand free. "Everyone likes to be needed."

"Yeah. I, uh… " Samuel said as he began to move, "best help hitch the wagons." But the men were already finished and climbing to their perches on the high bench seats. Samuel found that he couldn't unloose Abby's fingers without making a big show of it, so together, they walked to say goodbye to their guests.

Everyone was gone. The fire had been reduced to a few glowing embers easily swallowed by the encroaching darkness. Samuel stood just inside the barn and watched Abby make a final trip into the cabin carrying the last of the cookpots. He'd managed to avoid her for the last half hour, busying himself with caring for the caged animals while she cleaned up. But now there was nothing else for him to do.

The lamplight shining through the cabin windows looked warm, homey. It beckoned to him, promising warmth and welcome. But he couldn't go in.

Samuel cursed softly. It was being around the others that had done this to him. Seeing those families, close up — watching the loving, hearing the easy teasing… It had made him hunger for things he'd long since become accustomed to doing without. He'd even allowed himself to pretend for a while that he and Abby and Luke were a family. That they were no different from the others.

He snorted and kicked at a rock. He was a fool.

Deliberately Samuel turned his back on his home and moved deeper into the shadows of the barn. The sleepy horses stirred nervously and only quieted at the familiar sound of his voice. His shoulders hunched, his steps heavy, he walked slowly to the empty stall in the far corner of the barn. Samuel had already laid down fresh straw, and now he shook out an old wool blanket and spread it out over his bed for the night.