Wings of a Dove (16 page)

    Anger again touched James's mind, and his light brows furrowed into a deeper frown. Sarah had refused to listen to his warning about Delaney. She was impressed with his good looks and intrigued by the air of mystery about him. James refused to believe Allie was touched by that type of foolishness. Instead, Allie seemed to think only
she
understood Marsh, and stranger still, that only
Marsh
truly understood her.

    James felt a familiar frustration. How many times in the past weeks had he seen Allie turn a glance toward Marsh in a bond of silent communication that excluded everyone else? The realization that Marsh fed upon Allie's gullibility caused James's frustration to grow.

    He was determined to uncover the hold Marsh had over the girl. He would then dispel the myth Marsh had managed to perpetuate in her mind that he was her friend her
only
friend. James would protect the child against Delaney Marsh, whether she wanted to be protected or not. And he'd do the same for Sarah. For all her selfish disregard of anyone's feelings, Sarah had not Delaney Marsh's experience, and she was James's sister. He did not want to see her hurt.

    Allie had emptied the bucket and turned toward the coop. She paused at the door and then stepped inside to collect the eggs. James had been in the kitchen on one occasion when she had brought the eggs to Mama. She had been so proud of her accomplishment that Mama's eyes had misted. She had leaned down and hugged Allie, and he had not been able to forget the expression on the child's face.

    James gave a short laugh and, lifting his worn hat, ran his long freckled fingers through his hair. He had not realized, when he first saw little Allie Pierce, that he would become so concerned about the child's welfare that he would neglect other facets of his life. In the three weeks since her coming, he had not once ridden the gelding over to see Jeanie Lowe, as had been his custom in the few months past. He had seen Jeanie in town only the day before, and she had let him know that she did not take his neglect kindly. He supposed Jeanie was right. She was, after all, sixteen years old and the prettiest girl in the county, excluding Sarah. There were plenty of fellows waiting to call on Jeanie, but James knew she favored him. But somehow, although he was seventeen years old, he could not seem to concentrate on Jeanie Lowe when matters at home were so unsettled.

    This family needed to be rid of Delaney Marsh, and then everything else would fall into line. He supposed it was just a matter of time. Marsh would make a mistake soon, and James had no doubt that Pa would take the first opportunity to send him back where he came from.

    His gazed fixed unconsciously on the coop Allie had entered a few minutes before, James was suddenly brought from his rambling thoughts by her abrupt exit. Slamming the coop door behind her, she leaned back against it with all her strength. He watched with growing concern as, still holding the door with one hand, she put the bucket carefully on the ground and took a deep breath. He attempted to read the expression on her face more clearly. Something was wrong.

    Returning his hat to his head, James started toward her. He was a few feet away from Allie when he saw that she was trembling. A few steps closer and he saw that her hand was streaked with blood.

    "Allie, what happened?"

    At the sound of his voice, Allie looked up suddenly, a multitude of emotions visible on her colorless face. Embarrassment abruptly flooded her pale skin with color, wiping away the pain, the anger, the frustration he had viewed there only seconds before. She slipped her injured hand behind her back, but she could not avoid his scrutiny that easily.

    Crouching down beside her, James drew her arm from behind her and examined it closely. He frowned, his light brows meeting over his freckled nose.

    "Did that old hen get you?"

    Allie lowered her eyes. Obviously too embarrassed to respond, she nodded her head. The short, jerking movement brought his eyes to her scalp and the wound still oozing blood there.

    Taking her head gently between his palms, James tilted it forward to examine the cut. He released a short, angry breath and then tilted up her chin so she again met his eyes.

    "You'd better go into the house and let Mama put something on those cuts." His callused fingertips touched her cheek. "You have a scratch on your face, too. That bird's nasty too nasty for her own good. We've been having trouble with her since she started laying eggs. She came at me a few times, too."

    Realizing he would only further embarrass her by relating the ease with which he had handled the angry hen, James brushed a wisp of hair back from Allie's face. "You'll get used to her. You have to be firm."

    "I tried!" Speaking for the first time, Allie shook her head. "I told myself I wasn't going to let her get me again today, but she flew after me chased me right out of the coop!"

    "I'll tell Mama, and she'll"

    "Oh, please don't tell anyone, James. I'll do much better tomorrow."

    Suddenly realizing Allie had considered his comment a threat, James frowned. "That old hen has given every one of us trouble at one time or another. Nobody will think less of you."

    "Please, James."

    The intensity in her dark eyes only too revealing, James paused before responding. Tilting her head forward once more, he examined her scalp more closely. He shook his head.

    "You should put something on this, Allie, or it'll fester. Mama will find out then, and she'll wonder why you didn't want her to know."

    "It'll be all right, James. I'll take care of it myself, tonight."

    "And when she sees the scratches on your face and hands?"

    Allie bit her lower lip nervously. There was pain in her whispered response. "Everyone will laugh at me."

    "I didn't laugh."

    Allie met his eyes in silence.

    Abruptly, James stood up. "All right, I won't tell anyone, even though there's nothing to be ashamed of. But you'd better come with me. There's some alcohol in the barn. It might smart a bit, but it'll clean out that cut real well, and it'll stop the bleeding, too."

    Gripping her hand, James turned toward the barn, realizing Allie had no recourse but to follow his rapid step.

    Withdrawing his handkerchief a few minutes later, James frowned even more darkly. He shook his head. "Mama would've used a clean cloth, but we don't have much choice here, do we?"

    Motioning her to be seated on an overturned pail nearby, James crouched down beside her and moistened the handkerchief from the bottle in his hand.

    "This will sting, Allie."

    His narrow face pulled into a frown of concentration, James touched the cut on Allie's head slightly. She made no sound, and he pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth more firmly to the cut. Allie jumped, a low sound escaping her throat. His whispered "I'm sorry, Allie" came from the heart.

    Realizing that the first sting would be the worst, James worked quickly, cleaning the gouge on her scalp. It occurred to him as he did so that in the three weeks Allie had been on the farm, the sun had lightened her hair so that it was now even paler than her original color. But exposure to the sun had also tinted her complexion, and the contrast of tanned skin against silver-blond hair was surprisingly appealing.

    Finished with that first wound, James raised Allie's chin to examine the scratch on her cheek. He dabbed at it lightly, noting the way she forced herself to remain still until he was finished. It occurred to him then as he perused her sober face that Allie had begun to look considerably different from the pale, sickly looking child who had first come to them.

    Suddenly realizing that Allie was studying him as well, James abruptly took her small hand and concentrated on the cuts that marked it. He shook his head. "Some of these are old cuts, Allie. They've already begun festering."

    "
Th
- they'll be all right, James."

    Her nervous stammer touching his heart, James gave a short nod and continued his ministrations. She remained perfectly still, although he knew the wounds burned painfully, and James was silently impressed with her grit.

    Finally done, James released a low, relieved breath.

    "All right. I'm finished, but what are you going to say to Mama if she asks you how you got so scratched up?"

    Allie paused, obviously giving the question weighty consideration. She was frowning slightly when she responded. "I'll tell her it's nothing. It
is
nothing, James. You said yourself that hen has gone after everybody at one time or another, and I won't let her get away with it next time. I'll be firm, just like you said."

    James nodded. He didn't tell her that hen had never cut anybody as badly as it had cut her. He knew it would only upset her more, and he didn't want that. To the contrary, he sincerely wished he could put a smile on her small, sober face.

    A thought he had considered only fleetingly a short time earlier suddenly returned to his mind. "All right. But before you go back into the house, I have something to show you. Leave the eggs here for a minute. Come on."

    Taking her hand, James pulled her to her feet. He was aware Allie was puzzled as he led her into the rear stall of the barn. He watched as she scanned the stall in uncertain silence until a sound from the shadowed corner caught her attention. Within seconds she was on her knees beside a small straw bed there, staring at the tiny squirming kittens that moved with soft, mewing sounds as they sought to suckle the gray female cat lying there.

    A low gasp of pleasure escaped her throat.

    "Oh, they're beautiful!"

    Reaching out, she stroked the smooth, newborn fur, her voice low with fascination. "Four of them two black and white, one striped, and one gray, just like Shadow."

    Allie turned in his direction, and James saw a suspicious brightness in her eyes. "I had a kitten once," she said.

    "Pa doesn't like to keep the kittens."

    Allie averted her head abruptly, but James continued slowly, \   "But I already told Pa that we should keep one this time. I thought you'd be willing to take care of it."

    Allie turned toward him with surprise. He saw incredulity flash across her small face, and he saw something else, too, in the moment she hesitated before nodding.

    "I… I'll take care of it."

    "You'll have to be responsible for it completely, Allie, because it'll be yours."

    Allie hesitated again. "Mine?"

    James gave a short nod, a slow warmth beginning to pervade him. "You do want one, don't you?"

    "Oh, yes!"

    "Then I think you should decide which one you want to keep."

    "I'd like to have the striped one."

    James gave a short laugh. "It didn't take you long to decide."

    "I'll call it Mischief."

    "All right, I'll tell Pa."

    Allie turned back to the kittens once more and James resisted the desire to run a caressing hand over her straight, pale hair. Instead, he urged softly, "I think we'd better leave Shadow alone for a while so she can finish feeding them. You can come back later."

    Allie rose obediently. He extended his hand to her, and she took it without hesitation. The warmth inside him rose to a glow as Allie turned to walk at his side. Suddenly pausing, she looked up, her brow knotted. Her softly spoken question was touched by a note of confusion. "Do… do you like us now, James? Are you happy Mother Case brought us here?"

    Allie's childish candor brought an unfamiliar tightness to his throat, adding a husky note to James's response.

    "I've always liked you, Allie."

    Allie appeared to consider his statement for long silent moments. Her solemn gaze remained fixed on his face. "Thank you for the kitten, James."

    Unable to think of a more fitting response, he replied with corresponding formality. "You're welcome, Allie."

    Her small hand still enclosed in his, she walked with James to the barn door where she picked up the bucket of eggs. All thought of the cuts on her hand and the defeat they represented fled her mind as they walked hand and hand into the yard, where Allie turned to look soberly up at him once more.

    "I'll take good care of the kitten, James. I promise."

    Disengaging her hand as he nodded in response, Allie started toward the house at a rapid gait that gradually escalated to a cautious run. There was joy in that step, a joy that was suddenly mirrored in James's heart.