Instant Prairie Family (Love Inspired Historical) (6 page)

From across the barnyard, Abby thought the corners of his lips twitched, and she wondered what his smile would look like. Although Mr. Hopkins seemed very reserved with her, the boys didn’t fear him. In fact, more than once she watched them climb all over him like playful little pups. From the wagon she had almost been sure she heard him laughing with the boys as they had settled down to sleep by the riverside the night before.

Abby’s brother-in-law, Palmer, had never interacted with his children like that. Trying to remember her own father, she felt sadness at the faded memories. Closing her eyes for a brief second, she remembered his scratchy chin nuzzling her at bedtime, after he had read her a story and listened to her prayers. Had they wrestled as well and she just couldn’t remember or was it a game reserved for boys only? Her nephews loved to wrestle each other and she delighted in tickling them. How would they be doing now?

Tommy ran back to her and started his now familiar tugging on her arm. “Let’s go!”

“Okay.” She smiled again and let him pull her along.

“Tomas Daniel!” It was a command, not a shout, but it brought Tommy up short and got her attention, as well. “You should never
pull
a lady. You need to learn to walk at
her
pace,” Mr. Hopkins instructed his son, having almost caught up to them with his long strides. He let the others enter first, holding the door open when they reached the porch.

Another young man stood there, too. He was thin and tall, with the same sandy-brown hair and light blue eyes as Mr. Hopkins, and he stood waiting on the porch while she and the boys washed their hands in the sink. Abby wondered where the other man had been as she hurried around to make sure that the table was ready. The boys scampered to their places at the table and climbed up, Tommy kneeling on his chair so he could reach.

“Miss Stewart.” Mr. Hopkins turned to the younger man next to him. “I’d like to introduce you to my nephew, Jake Hopkins.”

The poor boy’s face was beet-red. He looked everywhere but at her. He nodded and mumbled something that she couldn’t quite understand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Master Hopkins. I hope you didn’t have too much work to do while your uncle collected me from the train.”

“Um, no, ma’am, I mean miss.” His voice cracked between words and then he dropped the soap his uncle had just handed him. Although Abby had not thought it possible, his face turned even redder.

“She’s Auntie Abby,” Tommy corrected, leaving both Abby and Jake with an uncomfortable situation. It was obvious that he was a teen and could not as easily call her auntie, especially since he was living with his uncle.

Mr. Hopkins settled the matter. “Around here we usually use just first names for the boys, so you can address him as Jake. No need for master or mister.” He didn’t offer for her to call him by his first name, which was just as well. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be on a first-name basis with her employer, either.

After a pause, she decided to change the subject. “I hope you’re all hungry. I made enough to feed an army.”

After everyone was seated, Mr. Hopkins asked for God’s blessing on the food and the hands that prepared it. He also asked for wisdom and grace for the adjustments to come. Abby enjoyed the boys’ constant chatter as they filled their cousin in on all the things that they saw on their trip into town. It was becoming evident that it was not a common event.

Before she thought it was possible, all the plates were empty once again. “You cook really good. Gooder than Pa. He always burns everything,” Tommy announced.

“It was really good,” Willy confirmed. He had not yet directed any comments to her. Now that he had, she felt as if she had won a prize.

“The boys are right. You did a fine job with supper, Miss Stewart. Thank you, especially seeing as how you must be completely tuckered out.” Mr. Hopkins’s gaze confirmed that he was not just being polite but he meant every word. “Is there anything else you’ll need tonight?”

“I still have to make up the bed and clean up here, but I think I’m all set, sir. Thank you.” She rose to start clearing the table, and everyone scrambled to help. She had left water heating on the stove so she could make washing dishes a quick job once everyone had cleared out. To her surprise, Mr. Hopkins rolled up his sleeves, poured part of the hot water into a basin in the sink and started to shave off a few slices of soap. Soon he had the dishes in the sudsy water.

“Pa, can we show her our room now?” Tommy pleaded.

“That’s up to Miss Stewart. She might just want to get some rest,” he answered with his strong forearms submerged in the water.

“Not just yet,” she answered Mr. Hopkins, then turned to the boys. “Why don’t you help me get the blankets off the line outside before it gets too dark and then you can show me your room? I think you said something about blocks your pa made for you. I’d like to see those tonight even if we don’t have time to play. Tomorrow we’ll have time to explore and see just how much you can teach me about your house.”

“I’m not a teacher,” Tommy giggled. “That’s your job.”

“But you know lots about where the clothes are, where the tub is for washing the clothes and what your favorite foods are. You can teach me all those things while I teach you how to read. I even brought some books so I can read you some stories when we get settled.”

“Could you read us one tonight? Please?” Tommy cajoled.

After offering to take over the dishes again and being assured everything was under control, she turned to the boys. “How ’bout you help me with my bedding first? Then we’ll see what time it is. Maybe your pa wants you to be in bed soon.”

She sought a confirming look from her employer but found him silently staring at her. “How ’bout we talk in just a minute, once you’re done getting the bedding?” he suggested, and turned back to the dishes before she could answer.

* * *

Her new room smelled fresher now. She stood back and inspected her work... Well, the work she did after the boys “helped” her to make her bed. One more thing she would need to add to her list of lessons for them. Mr. Hopkins had come into the room with a bed key and tightened the ropes under the mattress so it no longer sagged. She closed the window most of the way, leaving only a crack open so the air could continue to circulate without the bugs eating her alive.

“Excuse me, Miss Stewart. Did you want me to put your chest and boxes in your room now or leave them here?” Mr. Hopkins stood right outside her door, awaiting her answer. He took up the majority of the doorway with his broad shoulders and muscled forearms perched on each side of the door frame.

“If you could bring them in here, that would be very nice. Thank you. You could put them right there.” She pointed to the corner under the window and moved so he could get past her even as the boys climbed onto the bed.

“Boys, it’s time to go get ready for bed.” His statement was met with groans, but neither boy argued as they left the room. He looked up to see her watching and grinned as if he knew a secret.

“Now,” he whispered, “Tommy will be back in five seconds to ask if you can read—”

“Pa, can Auntie House read to us?” Tommy shuffled back into the room right on time.

Abby fought not to laugh out loud as Mr. Hopkins gave her a knowing glance and a wink above
Tommy’s head.

“I was about to talk to her about that, but if you don’t get ready for bed, there won’t be time for anything other than prayers.” His voice was as stern as ever and didn’t give away the humor Abby read in his eyes.

“But she could come for prayers, couldn’t she?” Tommy persisted.

“Tomas Daniel,” Mr. Hopkins said in a deep, low voice.

“Yes, Pa. I’m going but, please.” The boy was close to whining.

“Go get ready for bed.” The command left no room for argument.

Tommy left the room, walking like a man sentenced to face the firing squad. Abby watched him walk away and then turned to find Mr. Hopkins watching her with a guarded expression, the lighthearted humor forgotten.

“You don’t have to go upstairs and help with bedtime, Miss Stewart. You’ve done more than I expected today. Is there anything you need?”

Disappointment sliced through her. Why should it matter if she helped the boys into bed or not? But it did. She wanted to hear the prayers and kiss their foreheads just as she had done with her nieces and nephews for the last fourteen years.

“I would love to read them a story if it’s all right with you.” She bit her lower lip, trying to find a nice way to imply that he might not want her involved in such a private family time. “I don’t know your routine with the boys. What they do at bedtime or what you will expect me to do in the days to come.”

“Well, it will take some time to get used to having a woman around here again,” he stated cryptically.

“I imagine. I was wondering... I don’t want to ask anything that’s none of my business, but just how long has it been since a woman lived here?”

A shadow passed over his face for a minute and she held her breath, afraid she had just offended her employer on her first day there.

“It’s been two years since my wife’s aunt left.” His vague answer left her with more questions instead of answers. Did the boys still miss their great-aunt? How much time would she have to work here before the end of the harvest? Should she hold them at arm’s length so that when she left, they wouldn’t miss her too much? Would it even be possible to hold them at arm’s length? After only two days, Tommy already tugged on her heartstrings and somber, grouchy Willy seemed to dare her to love him.

Minutes later she was sitting between the two boys on the side of Tommy’s bed, reading to them. By the time she had finished the story, not only had Tommy climbed up on her lap, but Willy had slid over to look over her shoulder at the pictures. Story done, they took turns petitioning God with their heartfelt prayers for the cows, the horses, family they had never met, for their pa and their cousin, and they included her, as well. She said a few prayers of her own. Her thoughts traveled from her sister’s family to the Gibbonses and then all the people she had met on her trip. She asked for God’s blessing on this new family that she felt privileged to know.

When she gave a kiss good-night to Tommy, he insisted that his big brother needed kisses, too. She willingly complied and grinned when Willy groaned but turned his face toward her instead of away from her. As she stood, Mr. Hopkins cleared his throat. His eyes had a glassy look to them and she wondered if that was a good sign or not.

Chapter Four

T
he horses had settled in for the night as if it were the most common thing in the world for Will and Jake to be sleeping up in the hay loft. It was reminiscent of his boyhood visiting his grandparents’ farm, when he and his cousins would get to sleep with one of the uncles up in the loft. It reminded him again of all the things his boys were missing out here. Back East, two of his sisters were already married and were starting families of their own. When would his boys meet their cousins?

But his parents understood why he had to stay. Why he had to make this work. It was not just his dream. It had been Mathew’s dream first. Up here, in the loft he had built with Mathew, it felt as if his brother were still here on the farm. Will missed him with a deep sadness even after all these years. Sleeping up here with Jake, a replica of Mathew at age sixteen, brought back a flood of memories.

Mathew was five years older than Will. He’d always dreamed of going West to claim a large homestead. When Mathew married MaryAnn, they’d planned to move West just as soon as they saved enough to buy a homestead. Will worked at his father’s store hoping to earn enough money to outfit his own wagon and tag along for the adventure of a lifetime. At nineteen, he still couldn’t own land, but he could help Mathew settle. Two years later, he could claim the land nearby once he was of age. Everything had worked according to plan—except his marrying Caroline.

At first, Caroline came to Will’s father’s store to buy little things like penny candy or ribbons for her flaxen hair, but as time passed, Will noticed she often came and spent time there without buying anything. He invited her to a church social in the fall and they got along well. Somehow, without realizing it, he managed to take her to each of the socials and even walked her home from the store a time or two. Most people assumed they were courting and Will didn’t do anything to discourage the idea. She was pretty enough and popular. He should have paid more attention when she started bringing sweets she had baked herself. But he hadn’t seen the harm. Everyone knew he’d be leaving soon with Mathew and MaryAnn. Yet he couldn’t help noticing that every time he mentioned homesteading, Caroline would change the subject or tell of all the perils she had read in the newspapers and dime-store novels.

By February, he and Matt began the process of outfitting their rigs and laying aside the supplies. His head was so full of adventure he didn’t pay too much attention to what was going on around him.

Just four weeks before they were to leave, Caroline came crying to the house late one night, making a big scene about his leaving her. He offered to drive her back to her home in his father’s buggy, planning to explain to her on the way that they had no future together. Memories of that night still flooded his head. If only he had taken one of his sisters along.

* * *

“I’m sorry, Caroline,” he tried to console her, holding the reins loosely, guiding the horses to her drive. “I never said anything about us being anything other than friends. I guess you just came to the wrong conclusions. I don’t think you would be happy with me. You like your pretty clothes and your nice parties and that’s all good and fine, but I’m traveling out to the frontier. There are no shops for pretty clothes out there. There are no parties to go to on Christmas Eve.”

“But,” she gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks, her nose red and runny, “you took me to all the socials. I told my friends that surely you would ask me to be your wife. I started on my dress and asked Julie to be my bridesmaid. You could wait for a few more months. Let Mathew and MaryAnn go this year and then we could meet them there next year….”

“No, I’m not getting married now! I’m just nineteen. I want to live life without being tethered to a wife and a family. I’m sorry you started to make plans, but I never said...” He stopped the buggy but sat still, wanting to finish their conversation in the semiprivacy of her yard, blanketed in shadows.

“You’re leaving me!” Her cry was shrill and carried across the quiet night.

“I’m going with Mathew and MaryAnn. I’ve been dreaming about it for years now. You knew my plans.”

“But I thought you loved me. I thought we’d get married in the spring!”

“Caroline, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you, but I don’t—” Before he could continue, she threw herself in his arms, kissing him soundly on the mouth. The force of her movement almost toppled them off the buggy seat and he reached out, catching her shoulders with his hands to keep them both from falling. Before he could set her away from himself, he heard the creak of the front door opening. Caroline’s father stepped out and glared at him.

“Caroline, what is the meaning of this!” Mr. Kellogg roared.

“Oh, Papa!” she exclaimed, spinning around with a smile on her face. “I’ve got such wonderful news. Will just asked me to marry him and of course I accepted. I suppose we shouldn’t have been celebrating quite like this, but I was just so happy to finally hear him admit how much he loves me.”

Will remembered feeling numb. Completely numb from head to toe—as if someone had dunked him in ice water. What had he just heard? Had Caroline gone completely mad? Hadn’t she heard a word he had said? He was starting out on the adventure of a lifetime in just a few weeks and he had no plans of taking her along.

“Well, boy, now that you’ve sampled the goods, I expect you to make my daughter an honest woman.” Mr. Kellogg clenched his fists at his side and stared Will down as if daring him to refuse Caroline. Swallowing hard, he nodded. Realizing too late Mr. Kellogg would take it as an affirmation of all Caroline had said.

“I expected you to come and talk with me first, like a respectable man would, boy, but I guess there’s not much I can do about it now. How do you plan on supporting my daughter?”

“Pa, he’s got a job with his father at their store. You have nothing to worry about,” Caroline answered, taking Will’s hand in her own and squeezing as if they were the happiest of couples.

“Then I expect you to come here tomorrow night and have dinner with us, young man. I have a few more questions to ask you, but it’s late and it won’t do to ruin Caroline’s reputation by causing a scandal out here. Come along, Caroline, it’s time to go inside.” Mr. Kellogg assisted his daughter down from the buggy, eyeing Will with a stern look the entire time.

Will finally found his voice. “Yes, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” He waited in stunned silence until their door closed behind them and then somehow made his way back to his own home in a fog. What had just happened? How was he going to get out of it? One thing he was certain of. He had planned and dreamed of homesteading in Nebraska, and no one, not even Mr. Kellogg or conniving Caroline, was going to keep him from traveling with his brother. If Caroline insisted on the farce of a marriage with him, it would be on his terms.

* * *

The next night, his worst fears were confirmed. Caroline and her mother had already started to make preparations for the wedding. In the days that followed, Will felt trapped in a whirlwind of activities, each one pulling him closer to his doom.

Three days before they were to leave for Nebraska, he and Caroline were married in a small ceremony with his family, her family and a few close friends on hand. At first, he resented Caroline’s high-handed way of trapping him into a marriage, but he tried to get along with her. For the first month of travel, she also tried to humor him. Soon all facade fell away as the trip became more demanding. How Mathew and MaryAnn put up with his black moods and Caroline’s simpering and sniping sometimes astounded him. Just as he had assumed, Caroline whined about the lack of stores, creature comforts or even basic necessities out on the trail.

Now he looked back and wondered if there had been some other way to avoid hurting each other. She never adapted to the prairie. He never gave in to her demands to move back. At some point, he stopped trying to make her happy. At first, he tried to be a good husband, providing for her needs, helping with the children, but she always found something to complain about.

He didn’t regret his boys, however. They were the only good thing that came out of his rushed marriage. They were his inspiration to make the farm a success. Someday they would inherit all that his hands had labored to build. With God’s blessings, he wanted to leave them a legacy—something they could in turn pass down to their children. Jake would also be part of the inheritance. His father and mother’s dreams had brought them out West to begin with. Will vowed to leave Jake the legacy that Mathew once dreamed of giving his son.

Sighing, he decided to turn the night, his efforts and the coming days over to the Lord. He just wished God would let him know what to do about Miss Stewart.

Just the night before, he’d known that the men in the area would be interested in his housekeeper, and now he was even more certain. She was pretty and soft-spoken, and if dinner had been any indication, she could cook. Both boys were already quite taken with her, and poor Jake hadn’t been able to string two coherent words together at the table. Out here, the lack of eligible women meant that even women long in the tooth or dull-witted were courted by many eligible bachelors. Miss Stewart would cause a stampede. Exactly what Will wanted to avoid, for the sake of his own peace of mind, and Miss Stewart’s well-being.

He regretted having stopped at the Scotts’ homestead earlier in the day, too. Since this coming Sunday was only the second of the month, they still had two more weeks before there’d be another service, and news would spread. Hopefully by then, he would have some idea as to what to do for Miss Stewart. After all, her pastor had written a letter putting her care and well-being in his hands. He would see to her safety and provisions—and it wouldn’t be too hard to do if the fringe benefits were meals like the one they had had earlier. But he wouldn’t let himself get too attached. Once she realized what life on the prairie really meant, Miss Stewart wouldn’t be staying long—he was certain of that.

* * *

The first twinges of pink and orange were streaking the sky to the east when Abby groaned, stretched and struggled out of bed. She had slept well for the first night since leaving Emma’s house. Seeing the sun pushing up into the sky, she quickly dressed and brushed her hair.

Today she would take inventory of the house. She needed to scrub every single floor, wall and ceiling before she would be satisfied, but she also needed to see about clothing for the boys, do the washing, clean out the pantry... The list went on and on and Mr. Hopkins never did really tell her if he planned for her to stay or if he was set on taking her back into town next week. He had said she could stay until the harvest, but that was when he’d thought she’d be staying with the Scotts. Did the deal still hold true? She shook off her fears. There was no point in wondering about it. Until he told her otherwise, she was still employed as a housekeeper. Her first job was to determine what the most pressing need was and concentrate on it.

Lighting the fire in the stove was actually easier than on Emma’s stove. She put water on to boil and then started to look through the pantry. The milk from last night had been kept in a jar and placed in the root cellar under the stairs, so she went down and found it. She wondered if there were fresh eggs.

Heading back upstairs, she heard the kitchen door squeak and paused for a second. Surely it must be Mr. Hopkins, but there was no other noise, as if someone was sneaking in. Fear for the boys’ safety sent her rushing back up the stairs, a milk jug clenched in her fist as her weapon.

“Miss Stewart?” The whispering voice was deep and sent her heart into her throat as she reached the kitchen.

“Mr. Hopkins?” she squeaked out, as if anyone else would know she was here, much less come into the kitchen unannounced at this time of the day.

He stood at the doorway into the main house but spun around as she answered. His grin confirmed he realized how silly her question was. It also confirmed her suspicion that he was a handsome man when he smiled. “Good morning, Miss Stewart. Did you rest well?”

“Yes, sir. Did you?” she asked as she set the milk on the counter, commanding her heart to stop beating so loudly. She was afraid the noise would wake the boys.

“I rested very well, thank you.” His tone was light and friendly. “Is there something you need?”

“I didn’t know if I needed to gather the eggs. Do you need me to go and milk the cows first thing in the morning? Do the boys get up on their own or do you wake them at a particular time?”

He looked at her strangely. “Miss Stewart, do you know how to milk a cow?”

“No, sir. But I learn quickly,” she assured him, afraid he would think about taking her back to the train
station.

“Well, it’s just as well. I’ll do the milking if that’s all right with you. My cows are my girls and they are very stingy with anyone else. As for the hens, I’ll take you out to the henhouse and show you around in a little bit. This morning, however, I brought the eggs and milk.” To prove the statement, he backtracked out the door, bent down and reemerged with a pail of milk and a basket of eggs.

“Thank you. Is there something special you would like to eat this morning?” Abby asked, hoping to get off on the right foot.

“Anything other than burnt oatmeal would be ambrosia.”

“Ambrosia! I had thought that we’d try for something simple like pancakes and bacon. I’m not sure that I can come up with ambrosia,” she teased, knowing that if the pots from the day before were a hint to the breakfasts that were the normal fare at the kitchen table, her mother’s light, fluffy pancake recipe would be well received.

The boys and Jake were drawn like flies to the kitchen as soon as she started frying bacon. By the time they washed and dressed, she had a stack of pancakes she figured would hold them for the time being. Instead of eating with the rest, she stood at the stove and continued to flip pancakes, keeping a steady flow coming until everyone had eaten their fill. Jake and the boys made quite a few comments about burnt oatmeal and other cooking failures. Mr. Hopkins took the ribbing in stride and didn’t seem at all put out with the boys or his nephew. The easy teasing was refreshing after all the tense meals at her brother-in-law’s table.