Glorious Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) (23 page)

Micah stood by himself, holding the drum to his chest. As he watched the other children, his expression shifted from sullenness to uncertainty.

Joshua had never seen that look before—at least, not in regards to playing with others. For that matter, he’d never seen his son on the outskirts of a group of children. Micah had always been in the center of the pack or leading the way.

He couldn’t understand his son’s reluctance to join in with the others. By now, Micah knew all the children. . .had made friends.
So why?
Even as he asked himself the question, Joshua knew the answer.
Because Micah didn’t know what was about to happen.

Guilt clenched his stomach. In all of his and Esther’s discussions about missionary work, they’d never considered they would turn their son into an outsider, one who didn’t know the rituals of American children.

It’s almost like growing up in a barrel.
He immediately chastised himself for that gloomy thought.
Children were children, no matter the country they lived in
.

The boy will adapt
, he reminded himself for the hundredth time since they’d left Africa.

For the most part, Joshua couldn’t regret Micah’s childhood spent in Uganda. The boy had a unique and special upbringing. Joshua had no doubt that many natives had begun attending church due to Micah, either because his son befriended their children, or because Micah directly invited them to attend. His son had never been shy about speaking up.

But now. . .to see him hold back. . . .

Spurred by a stab of pain, Joshua moved through the crowd of parents toward his son. But before he reached Micah, he spotted the boy step into position next to Adam and extend his drum. As he made gestures to his friend about how to play the instrument, Micah lost his frown and began to smile.

Relieved, Joshua relaxed and stopped.

“Howdy, Reverend Joshua.” Nick Sanders came up to him, carrying a baby about six months old or so. His daughter wore a pink lace bonnet that matched her long gown. Wisps of blonde hair curled around chubby cheeks, and her long-lashed blue eyes studied him.

“Hello, Nick. Carol.” Charmed by the baby, Joshua held out a hand to her.

The baby grasped his finger.

“Are we having a parade like this for your birthday?” Joshua asked her in the fatuous tone adults often used with babies. “When do you turn one?”

She gurgled at him.

Nick laughed. “We’ll have a celebration, all right. It’s called Christmas.”

“She’s a Christmas baby? On the actual day?”

“Came a month earlier than we expected. Elizabeth had organized the children into a Christmas choir and planned a big party after the service on Christmas Eve.” Nick chuckled. “She was
not
pleased when her pains started beforehand.”

Carol released Joshua’s finger. “Da.”

Nick gave his daughter an adoring look and leaned his face forward to rub noses.

She patted her father’s cheek.

Nostalgia shimmered through Joshua. “Enjoy her babyhood. They grow up so fast.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You get busy, and all of a sudden, they’re several inches taller.” Joshua ran the back of his finger down the baby’s soft cheek, reminded of the feel of Micah’s skin at the same age.

Carol extended her arms to him.

Surprised and pleased at her obvious wish to be transferred, Joshua took her from Nick.

“She’s like her mother that way. Friendly.”

Joshua gave Carol a little squeeze, inhaling her baby scent and remembering how he’d wished for a daughter, for his son to have a sister. A disappointment he’d thought he’d made peace with. . .but perhaps not.

He jiggled the baby, then whirled with her, watching her smile brighten into a chortle that made him grin. “Like dancing, do you? Someday, your papa will have his hands full.”

Nick shook his head. “I’d prefer not to think that far ahead,” he drawled. “Time enough to keep her suitors from storming the gates.”

Glancing over at Delia, Joshua saw her watching him.

She turned away, but not before he caught a wistful expression on her face. With a kick of hope, Joshua realized she wasn’t indifferent to him.
Ma
ybe, there’s still a chance.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

D
elia sat with her father and Edith on the bench circling the oak tree, admiring the beauty of the ranch. A broad swath of scythed grass made a velvety covering at their feet. She watched Pamela herding the boisterous children into decorous rows and couldn’t help but smile at their excitement.

The sight of Joshua engaging with the child tugged at Delia’s heartstrings.
There’s something about watching a man hold a baby, giving her his attention. . .that’s so romantic.

The appeal to her emotions grew so strong, Delia could no longer deny how she felt about Joshua.
Am I falling in love?

Admitting that possibility felt as if a fist had thumped against her chest. Longing rushed through her, only to be firmly squelched.

I cannot. He doesn’t know my secret.

Pain compressed her body. If she’d been alone, Delia would have burst into tears.

“The children will head down to the river, where the Carters have tables set up.” Edith’s babbling pulled Delia away from the sight of Joshua and the baby. “They always create a beautiful bower, using sheets hanging from the trees to form walls and carpeting as the floor. Ribbons and flowers. . . .”

“Sounds lovely.”

“I must say—”
the woman continued “—the Carters celebrate birthdays in the proper manner. Why, except for our surroundings, there isn’t a difference between here and Boston. A parade, an outdoor room, food, games, presents.” She sighed. “Ben’s too big for children’s parties now. I miss those times.”

With a burst of horns and penny whistles, and a pounding of drums, the parade began flowing by. John and Pamela led, walking with Lizzy between them. Mark and Sarah marched behind. The little girl wore a crown of delphiniums and, from her scared expression, didn’t look as if she enjoyed being the center of attention.

As the children marched past, Delia searched for Micah and saw him carrying an unusual drum under his arm, smacking the surface with his palm, a grin on his face.

Sudden longing rushed through her. How she wished Micah was her son. . .that she could take public pride in him. . .hug him to her, then laugh as he wiggled away, boyishly uncomfortable with affection. How she wished to give him brothers and sisters. Her father nudged Delia, shattering her fantasy.

“Look at Micah. His smile’s going to split his face.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“That boy’s changed so much. Remember how sad he was?”

Pretending to be happy, Delia tried to smile at her father. But her lips were stiff. “Micah has
adjusted to Sweetwater Springs. You’ve certainly helped him with that, Papa.”

Andre turned toward her, a wise-old-owl look on his face. “As have you, daughter.”

He sees too much.
Delia bit her lip and glanced away from his observant eyes.

How can I feel so good about Micah’s progress yet hurt so much when I think of loving his father?

Micah thoroughly enjoyed the noisy parade, the chicken and soft rolls consumed in the shade of the outdoor room, the dessert of cake and ice cream. He’d eaten so much, he thought he’d bust.

Afterwards, while everyone watched, Lizzy had opened her presents, solemnly examining each one, then gifting the giver with her shy smile and a soft “thank you.” As she held the owl he’d brought, turning the carving in her hands, she seemed to linger longer on this present, but her smile to him was just the same as to all the others.

Micah gritted his teeth, challenged by her shyness.
Somehow, I’ll make her laugh today!
He didn’t know how yet but figured an idea would come to him.

Once the children were released to play, he and Adam explored the barn, finding the pigsty out in back. One pen contained a huge sow and six nursing piglets. An idea to make Lizzy laugh took root in Micah’s mind.

I’ll dress up a piglet like a doll.

Pleased with his inspiration, Micah ignored the stench of the pigsty to lean over the pen and eye the litter. The runt looked about right for his plan. Briefly, he considered running into the house and swiping a doll dress, then discarded the idea. The piglet was bound to get the clothing dirty, which would certainly get him into trouble. He had only to remember his visit with the Swensen family—all the mud and the girls’ filthy clothes—to reject any idea that involved dresses and pigs.

I’ll have to improvise
, he decided, borrowing one of his father’s expressions.

Micah leaned over and scooped up the runt, who let out a squeal. He straightened and stepped back from the pen. “Give me that rag!” He pointed to one hanging on the top of the pen.

Adam grabbed the scrap of cloth and handed it over.

Micah wiped the mud off the piglet.

The little fella complained again.

With a grunt, the mother heaved herself up. Her babies slid off her with complaining squeals. She lumbered toward Micah, a porcine expression of maternal outrage on her face.

Uh, oh.
“Come on.” Cradling the piggy to his chest, Micah dashed into the barn where the sow couldn’t see them.

“What are you doing with that pig?” Adam asked.

“Making Lizzy laugh.”

Adam’s face scrunched in puzzlement.

“It’s her birthday, and she needs to have more fun.”

Adam considered that statement, then nodded his agreement.

“Let me have your handkerchief,” Micah demanded, knowing that if Adam’s mother was anything like his. . .and his grandmother, too, the other boy wouldn’t have left the house without a clean one tucked in his pocket.

Adam pulled out a blue handkerchief spotted with white dots.

“Perfect.” Micah took the cloth. Kneeling on the ground, he stuck the wiggling piglet between his knees, tying the material around the animal’s face like a head kerchief.

“Ha, that’s funny!” Grinning, Adam knelt across from him. “I’ll hold the little guy while you tie on yours.”

Micah pulled out his white handkerchief and positioned the material around the runt’s waist like a skirt.

Adam held up the piglet, and they both laughed at the comical sight.

Micah gently took back the animal. “Come on. Let’s find Lizzy.” He set off at a run, racing down the aisle of the barn, Adam on his heels.

Just outside the wide doorway of the barn, Micah ran smack into a thin cowboy and bounced off the man. Unbalanced, he staggered into Adam, who fell, in the process, tripping Micah.

As he went down, he tried to protect the piglet, turning to land on his side. When Micah hit the ground, his arms loosened, and the runt escaped.

“Hey!” The cowboy exclaimed, making a grab for the animal and missing.

Racing away as if the hounds of hell chased it, the piglet headed for the crowd of people talking under the oak tree. With a loud squeal that brought the conversations around them to a halt, the animal scooted under a lady’s dress and out the other side, causing her to shriek and totter backward into a man who steadied her.

Oh, no!
Micah chased after the critter. He dodged one way around the irate woman, and Adam ran the other way.

Laughter and screaming accompanied their progress. A few men tried to capture the runaway but to no avail.

Micah saw his chance and dove for the piglet, tackling the squirming animal. Its squeals pierced his ears. Holding the little beast to his chest, he got to his feet, hoping his father wasn’t anywhere around. But even if Father hadn’t witnessed him letting loose a pig at Lizzy’s party, he’d hear of the situation soon enough.
I’m in trouble now.

He straightened. There in front of him was the object of his efforts, her mouth in an O of astonishment.

Eyes crinkled with laughter, Mrs. Carter stood next to her daughter.

Breathing heavily, Micah held out the piglet, costumed in dirty handkerchiefs, and watched Lizzy’s face light up with a smile that sent happiness straight to his heart.

At the sight of Micah’s destructive path through the crowd, Joshua groaned.

A laughing Delia made her way over to his side.

“I can’t believe he did that!” Joshua said with a shake of his head.

“I seem to recall someone telling me about chasing a pig down Main Street. I’d say
your son
comes by his mischief-making naturally.”

“What am I going to do with him?”

Delia pulled on his arm. “Look at Micah’s face. And Lizzy’s. Except for the night of the ice cream social, I’ve never seen that child smile. Look at how she’s laughing.”

Joshua turned his attention to Lizzy. She’d let go of her mother’s hand and stood in front of Micah, patting the piglet’s headcovering and happily chatting with the boy. The uncertain look he’d seen earlier on his son’s face had vanished, and he appeared relaxed and cheerful. He was covered with dust from landing on the ground, but neither Pamela Carter nor her daughter seemed to mind. In fact, from Pamela’s delighted glances at Lizzy, she seemed to approve of what Micah had done.

Uncertain how the rancher would take Micah’s appropriation of his livestock, he glanced around for John Carter. But the man watched his wife and daughter, a tender expression on his face.

Pamela waved toward the barn, obviously indicating for Micah to take the piglet back to the pen.

His son and Adam ran off toward the barn.

Pamela stooped to ask Lizzy something.

The child nodded, the broad smile remaining on her face.

Her mother stood, raising her voice to be heard. “Time to play with the Falabellas. Only the children in the paddock, please. As enticing as those Falabellas are to us adults, there isn’t enough room for all of us.”

Laughter greeted her remark.

Micah and Adam sprinted out of the barn, joining the wave of children heading toward the corral.

Joshua was as eager as his son to see the miniature horses. But he restrained himself from showing his excitement. Gathering his ministerial dignity, he fell into step with the crowd of parents moving towards the paddock. Delia walked at his side.

Out of the shade, the heat pressed down on them. Dust rose as they left the grass for the bare earth around the barn and outbuildings. They neared the corral. Horses even smaller than ponies milled about. Joshua counted eleven full grown and five foals in shades of brown, chestnut, gray, and black.

Delia gasped and ran a few feet to the fence. “Look at those little darlings! Oh, I do hope the adults have a chance to play with them later.”

Joshua didn’t know where to look—at the excitement on Delia’s beautiful face or the Falabellas, which were indeed captivating.

John Carter opened the gate to allow Samantha Thompson to go through. She held up the skirt of her pale blue dress a few inches to avoid trailing the hem in the dirt. Her red hair glinted in the sunlight. She raised her free hand to stop the horde of youngsters from streaming in. “Gently now, children. Don’t frighten them. Remember, even though they’re little, the Falabellas can still kick and bite. Be especially careful with the foals.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the children chorused, practically dancing with excitement.

Joshua searched for Micah and couldn’t help but grin at the sight of his son’s eager expression. He’d never seen the boy so wide-eyed with astonishment.

Delia glanced up at him. “I wonder which Falabella Micah will choose to play with.”

“One of the black ones,” Joshua said with certainty. “On the way here, he mentioned wanting a black horse.” He searched among the Falabellas. There were two black ones and a black foal. “I’m predicting the foal.”

She laughed. “Not a hard choice since both mother and foal are black.”

He glanced down at her and grinned. “Have you heard the story of how Samantha brought six Falabellas with her from Argentina?”

“I think doing so was very brave—for a woman with a child to travel from Argentina to Montana to start a new life—even if she did inherit a ranch here.”

Joshua had to refrain from touching Delia. He settled for a tender smile. “You’ve traveled pretty far, yourself.”

“But it wasn’t the same. I had my father. And I didn’t have the responsibility of a child. If anything,
your
story is more similar.” She touched his arm. “You came from Africa with your son.”