The Brides of Chance Collection (55 page)

“But Miriam’s side of the family runs to girls,” Delilah protested. “Think about it—there’s me, Miriam, and Hannah, and we’re cousins because Grandma had two daughters in the first place. Then there’s Polly and Ginny Mae, and Daniel has five Chance brothers, too. I’m not saying the babe won’t be a boy; I just figure it could go either way.”

“I suppose it could, come to that,” Reba allowed.

“If you’re all finished speculating, I can tell you.” Miriam spoke softly, her hand resting on her rounded tummy. “My son will be born in early summer.”

“Well, that settles it,” Reba finished.

“Have you told Gideon?” Alisa asked.

“We’ve decided we’ll name him Caleb after his grandpa.” Miriam looked so content and proud, sitting there in the rocker Gideon had made for her and their babe, Delilah just had to get up and give her a hug. It didn’t surprise her when Alisa joined them, and Reba came over to say a prayer.

“Lord, we thank Thee for Thy many blessings and lift up Miriam and her babe, Caleb, to Thy arms for protection and comfort.”

Even Delilah couldn’t help joining the fervent chorus of “Amens.” If it might help Miriam and her child, she’d pray to their God.

“Why are you all smothering my wife?” Gideon demanded from the doorway.

Everyone untangled as Reba let loose a bark of laughter. “We were just having a woman moment, Gideon.”

“Reba prayed for me and the babe.” Miriam stood up and walked over to her husband, who put his arm around her and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“What are you doing here so early, honey?” she asked. “Supper’s hours off yet.”

“I knew you were all having a sewing day, so I figured I’d change and hand this over.” He held out the brown chambray shirt he’d been wearing earlier that day. “Got caught in some thorny fence.”

“Good thinking.” Reba bobbed her head. “Nothin’ worse than spending a day mending, only to have your man come home with another load.”

“I’ll just leave you women to it.” Gideon left the room, and Alisa giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Miriam asked.

“Nothing much. I couldn’t help thinking your husband might’ve felt a bit uncomfortable in here. It’s not often the women outnumber the men on Chance Ranch.”

Delilah couldn’t hold back a chuckle at that observation. “Oh, I don’t know. When Paul took me and the girls on a picnic for my birthday, he held his own.”

“We all had a nice day.” Alisa smiled at the memory. “Gideon, Daniel, and Titus finished whitewashing your cabin in no time at all. Logan and Bryce gave Shortstack a bath, if you’d believe it. Never would’ve thought dunking a feline would prove a challenge for two young men, but that cat was bound and determined not to get wet. ’Course in the end, Bryce and Logan had their way.”

“I don’t know about that.” Miriam smiled as she threaded a needle. “I thought Shortstack matched ’em drop for drop when they came in looking like they’d been dunked in the fishing hole.”

“And all my favorite food lay spread out like a feast when we got home. You two kept yourselves just as busy as the men.” Delilah wanted to let them know how much she appreciated their kindness.

“Well, you did right by ’em in return.” Reba nodded at the landscape hanging on the parlor wall. “Right before you came in, Miriam and Alisa were telling me how you painted that in thanks.”

“Oh, that hardly took any time at all,” Delilah assured her. “I sketched it that day while we were on the picnic and filled it in with watercolors the next day. I love painting.”

“And it shows in every stroke,” Miriam complimented.

“You’ve got a talent, that’s for sure. That’s a piece of art any rich man in the city would be proud to hang on his wall. Something peaceful and happy about it.” Reba stared at the painting, her fingers darning a sock almost by memory.

“I wouldn’t suppose you’d paint another one?” she wondered aloud.

“I don’t paint anything in the exact same way twice,” Delilah apologized.

“Oh no. I didn’t mean the same picture. I just mean another painting. It’d be a real nice addition to the store. I’d hang it right over the counter.” The dreamy look on Reba’s face faded as she took on the visage of a businesswoman once again. “I’d give you a fair deal in store credit.”

“Oh, you’re so nice to us. You’ll be here for Miriam’s birthing, too. I’d be happy to make you one as a gift, Reba.”

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t feel right about it.” Reba looked across at her with a stern expression. “Now you just have it for me some Sunday, and we’ll set you up with that store credit. Do we have an understanding?”

“Agreed.” Delilah couldn’t find it in her heart to argue with the determined woman. “What type of landscape would you like?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Well, I can paint the barn, or a grove of trees, or the creek,” Delilah elaborated.

“Oh, you should paint the fishing hole!” Alisa encouraged.

“I think I’d like something with a bit of water in it,” Reba mused. “Well, I trust you. Just go ahead and surprise me.”

Chapter 14

D
elilah,” Paul started to say as Polly and Ginny Mae peered down from the wagon.
How can I tell her that even though she’s learning very quickly, I’d rather drive today? She’s only had three lessons, and I don’t want to risk Polly and Ginny
Mae getting hurt
.

While he searched for words, Delilah spoke. “If you don’t mind, I think you should drive this afternoon. You’re a wonderful teacher, but…” She smiled at the girls. “Today we carry precious cargo.”

Lord, we are alike in so many ways. Why can’t she see it? She values home and family
,
everything I want to give her. Please help me find the words to reach beyond the wall to her heart
.

“We certainly do.” He helped Delilah up into the back of the wagon and watched as Polly and Ginny Mae immediately scooted toward her. She wrapped an arm around each of them and listened attentively as Ginny Mae rattled off the beginning of the alphabet.

She’ll be a wonderful mother
. He let those pleasant thoughts run through his mind until they neared the fishing hole.

“I don’t see any water.” Delilah gave a slight frown and craned her neck to get a better view. “Is it past that hill?”

“Yep. Just past those trees and bushes.” He gestured toward the greenery. Spring always touched the pond first. “It’s best to leave the wagon right here and walk Speck up so he can have a drink.”

Delilah lent a hand in unhitching the horse and held Speck’s reins while Paul hefted down the girls and supplies. He accepted the reins and led the way up the well-worn path. Glancing back, he saw Delilah holding the basket on one arm, with Ginny Mae clutching her hand and Polly’s in her chubby fists, completing the chain. He hastily tied Speck to a tree and met them at the bushes.

“Before we get any closer, I need you dumplin’s to listen to the rules.” He knelt to be at eye level with Polly and Ginny Mae. “Neither of you can swim, so you’ll have to steer clear of the fishing hole—it’s far too deep. Do you understand?” The little heads bobbed in unison. “And you’re not to run off where Delilah and I can’t see you.” That way, the girls wouldn’t venture toward the creek, which ran a little ways off. “Got it?”

“Yes, Unca Paul,” the girls chorused as he took the basket from Delilah.

“All right, then. Let’s go!” He started back up the path, only to see two tiny blurs race ahead of him beyond the bushes.

“Hey!” The girls froze at his roar. “What did I just say about running off?”

“Sorry, Unca Paul.” Polly scuffed the toe of her shoe in the dirt.

“We got ’cited.”

“If you do that again,” Delilah said, shaking her finger, “we’ll go back home.” Her stern demeanor crumbled when Polly’s lower lip trembled and tears welled up in Ginny Mae’s eyes.

She knelt down and gathered them in her arms. “We love you both very much, and it’s our job to make sure you’re safe. I’d rather take you home than see either of you get hurt.”

“That’s why you have to follow the rules,” Paul finished for her.

“We’ll be good.” Polly hugged her.

“Pwomise,” Ginny Mae vowed solemnly after a particularly loud sniff.

“Mind that you do,” Paul said.

Two seconds later, all traces of crying evaporated.

“It’s so pretty!” Polly stared around, awed at the lush vista.

The trees lent cool shade to the newly green hills as rays of sunshine sparkled through the leaves. Wildflowers nestled in clumps of clover, leading to the tall rushes tickling the water’s edge. The tiny rivulets feeding the pond gurgled softly, underscoring the chirps of birds lining their nests. A calm breeze chased wispy white clouds across the sky and ruffled the grass along the small hills. Dragonflies skimmed the rippling water, where plump trout eyed them hungrily. Paul couldn’t imagine anything closer to paradise than being in this place with the people he loved.

“It’s wonderful,” Delilah breathed, seeming to drink in her surroundings.

“No, Ginny Mae!” Polly grabbed her younger sister’s hand as Ginny Mae toddled after a bright orange butterfly. “We ain’t s’posed to go by any of the water.” She cast a yearning glance at the cool pond.

“Well now, that’s not exactly true.” Paul winked at Delilah. “There’s one place you can play in the water. See over there?” He strode over to where a bubbling stream of water sprayed over a small outcropping of rocks to form a shallow pool, rolled up his sleeve, and touched the sandy bottom. The cool water lapped halfway up his forearm, not even reaching his elbow, while the stones at the top of the hill would be too high for the girls to touch. Dappled sunlight warmed the water, so he knew the girls wouldn’t catch cold.

Polly and Ginny Mae hovered eagerly by his shoulder, anxious to get closer but hesitant to break the rules. They were good little girls and deserved a treat.

“I said you couldn’t go where Delilah and I couldn’t see you, and you couldn’t be near the fishing hole. But as long as you obey those rules, you can play here in your very own pond.”

“Complete with a tiny waterfall. It’s perfect.” Delilah helped the girls strip off their shoes and stockings.

Beaming, Polly scurried to the edge first, only to have her smile fade. “Unca Paul, what’re those?” She poked the water with a pink fingertip.

“Hmmm? Oh, those are just tadpoles. They won’t hurt you.”

“Whatsa tab-ole?” Ginny Mae toddled over.

“They’re just baby frogs,” Paul explained, taking Polly’s hand.

“They don’t look like frogs.” Doubt still shone in her eyes as Paul slowly, gently guided her hand toward the water.

“They will later,” Delilah said, backing him up. “You know, some people call them pollywogs.”

“Really?” Polly giggled as the tadpoles flicked around her fingers. “That tickles!”

“Pollywog!” Ginny Mae shrieked in glee, pointing at her sister. “Pollywog!” Together they waded in, the water brushing just below Polly’s knees and just above Ginny Mae’s. In no time at all, they were laughing and splashing around, throwing handfuls of water in the air to watch the sun catch the droplets on the way back down.

While Delilah began sketching, Paul kept an eye on the girls. When his stomach rumbled, she looked up and quirked a brow. “Hungry?”

“I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said no.” He grinned back at her.

“Polly! Ginny Mae! Come on back here. It’s lunchtime!” She began pulling sandwiches and apples from the basket while the girls climbed out of the pool and raced each other to the blanket. Paul used the edges of the quilt to dry their legs. Soon they were all munching happily, enjoying the shady quiet.

“I like it here,” Polly pronounced. “This is the bestest picnic ever.”

“I think so, too.” Delilah mopped crumbs off of Ginny’s face. “But now I think it’s time for a little rest.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Polly protested, utterly sincere after a satisfying yawn.

“Me, too.” Ginny Mae’s eyelids drooped as Delilah tucked them both in the quilt.

“Then you’ll be awake and playing again before you know it,” Paul consoled. In a matter of minutes, the two children were fast asleep, light eyelashes dusting rosy cheeks.

“They’re so sweet.” Delilah tenderly tucked a stray hair behind Polly’s ear.

“Sure are. Best to let them sleep so they stay that way, though.” Paul tilted his hat over his eyes and leaned against the tree trunk, breathing in the fresh scent of the grass and the moist earth.

Delilah propped up her sketchbook, and soon Paul heard the rasp of pencil on paper. Readjusting his hat, he watched her record every minute detail with tiny strokes and delicate shading. At last, she breathed a sigh of satisfaction and held the sketch at arm’s length for a final viewing.

Paul could scarcely believe his eyes.

“It’s perfect.” Paul spoke softly but startled Delilah nonetheless.

“Thank you.” She made an expansive gesture. “But it doesn’t do this justice.”

“I disagree. You have a God-given talent, Delilah.”

Ugh. Why is it that every time we start to talk, just when I most enjoy his company, he starts going off about God again?

“I get the impression you don’t agree with me.” Paul’s droll comment made Delilah realize she was being rude.