West Winds of Wyoming (6 page)

“What’s this about, children?” Brenna asked, laughing. “I’m about to die from curiosity.”

Penny stepped forward. “Follow me, Mama.” She crossed the room to the front door. She pulled it open. “What do you see?”

Mystified, Brenna looked out on her tiny front yard, the wooden fence rimmed with yellow, white, and orange flowers, all of different types and sizes. It was a beautiful sight, a result of many hours of love. “Some pretty flowers that would make any garden gnome a cheerful home?”

Penny groaned. “Keep looking.”

Brenna stepped out onto the porch. Nothing seemed out of place. She glanced across the narrow dirt road to the small rental house belonging to Maude Miller, the owner of the mercantile. The well-kept yellow home had been vacant for almost seven months. Today several crates were stacked on the porch.

“Someone’s moving in.”
How exciting.
“This is wonderful news. Do we know who our new neighbors are yet? I hope it’s a family with lots of children. That would be nice. With a woman my age, who likes to knit and bake. Or perhaps . . .”

She glanced back at the children. Penny’s and Jane’s faces, frozen in an expression between panic and fear, stopped her short. “Who?”

“The new teacher,” Stevie shouted, piercing her eardrums. “Deputy Donovan was out this morning to deliver his trunks.”

Dread rippled through Brenna.
How? Why?
She wished doubly hard now that she could start her day over and not visit the bank until the afternoon. Or at least pay attention to where she was walking—see Mr. Hutton and have a polite but brief conversation when he passed by. Yes, that’s how the exchange should have gone. Anything but what actually happened. When she’d invited him to dinner, he probably thought she already knew about them being neighbors and couldn’t wait to sink her widow’s claws into him. Humiliated, she wanted to slink into her bedroom and never come out.

“What are you talking about? His house is across town.”

Stevie jumped up and down. “Skunks got inside. When they went to get ’em out, they let loose. Won’t be fit to live in for some time.”

Penny must have picked up her agitated feelings, because she touched her arm. “What’s wrong, Mama? I’m not ashamed to say I wasn’t glad our teacher moved in across the street, but I thought you would be. Last week when you met him, you said he was nice.”

Her daughter had a point. Brenna pasted a smile onto her face, and then patted each child on the head, ending with Maddie, who stood patiently waiting for the problem to be resolved. “Of course I’m thrilled to have Mr. Hutton as a neighbor. Who better when one of you is stuck and needs help with your homework? Lord knows I’m not much good at math, or English, or anything else.” Penny, not used to negativity from her, furrowed her brow.

Even though Brenna might have fears and insecurities, she didn’t want to instill them in her children. “I think it’s absolutely the best news I’ve heard all week. It’s just a surprise, is all. Mrs. Miller’s home will be perfect for him. Notice how nice and tidy his trunks are even with him just getting settled. He’ll be a good neighbor to have.”

“Shall we bake him an apple cake, Mama?” Jane asked. “To welcome him to the neighborhood.” Jane’s eyes looked up while she thought. “If Penny and Maddie and me get started now, we can give it to him tonight.”

Brenna’s stomach tightened up with knots. If she knocked on his door, her brood of children all around like chicks and a mother hen, he’d probably laugh—or slam the door in her face before she did him any more harm. But there was no avoiding it. She’d taught the children to be kind and polite. An apple cake would be a nice gesture indeed.

“That’s a perfect idea, Jane. I’m so proud of you for suggesting it.”

Jane’s face brightened like a newly lit lamp, making Brenna glad she hadn’t squelched Jane’s thoughtfulness to cover her own anxieties. Mr. Hutton would just have to get used to the idea of living next door to them. Who knew? Maybe he’d grow to like them.

Jane started for the kitchen. “I’ll take Maddie and go pick the apples while you get the oven heated, Penny. You’re the only one allowed to use matches.”

“We’ll help you pick,” Stevie said. He grasped his foster brother by the arm and headed for the door. “I was first to find out about Mr. Hutton. I bet he likes to whittle. He might even want me to show him how to make a super-duper slingshot.”

Prichard nodded. “I bet he will, Stevie. We both can ask him.”

Brenna stood back and watched the scene unfold. Mr. Hutton wouldn’t know what hit him. She could see the whole thing in her mind’s eye, and would have giggled if she weren’t so worried. Well, that was just too bad. If he wanted to be grumpy, so be it.

In the kitchen, she tied her apron around her waist, and then gathered the ingredients for the pastries she owed Hannah at the Silky Hen. She set up her space, leaving ample room for the children and their teacher-welcoming project, thinking how much her life had changed since Hannah had employed her as a baker. She had persevered through the tough times and now God had rained his blessings on her. With her baking and sewing, she’d learned she was capable indeed. Others depended on her, even if only for a few pies for the Silky Hen. She was making a difference, and that fact made a difference to her.

Penny loaded wood into the belly of the oven and stuffed wadded-up newspaper underneath. It seemed the idea of her teacher living across the street had lost its sting. With the other children outside, now was the perfect time for a mother-daughter talk.

“You’re ready for school on Monday?” School was always foremost in Penny’s mind. Learning came easy to her. “It’ll be here before you know it.”

Finished with the stove, Penny washed her hands and picked up the towel. “I think so, Mama. I just have my new skirt to hem.”

Penny was growing up. Her tight bodices attested to that fact. Sometimes the blueness of her eyes and the expression they held reminded Brenna so much of Carl, it could render her speechless. They’d been happy, Carl working for Win at the livery and her with a new baby practically every year. They’d had little money but a lot of love. Then, six years ago, he’d been kicked in the chest by a horse and killed instantly. His loss still made her ache.

She’d been lucky to have friends who looked out for her and her children. Just last week, they’d received several items of clothing from Hannah Donovan and Jessie Logan. She and Penny had worked feverishly to alter them to fit. Now both girls would have a new dress and one new skirt and blouse each for the school year.

Brenna took the sack of flour from the drawer and reached for her well-used measuring cups. “That’s wonderful. I appreciate your help with Jane’s skirt.”

Altering the boys’ clothes was her job. She’d worked late each evening stitching the pants and shirts. They were a bit more difficult since the hand-me-downs came from Gabe Garrison, the young man who lived with Chase and Jessie Logan and was almost grown. The dress Jessie had sent for Maddie appeared brand new, and by the size of it, must still fit Sarah, Jessie’s daughter. When Brenna had objected, Jessie had insisted that she take it, saying Sarah hadn’t cottoned to it, and it had hung unused in her daughter’s wardrobe for far too long. The garment was perfect for Maddie. How could anyone argue with that?

The front door slammed. The boys bounded through the kitchen door, their arms overflowing with apples. Jane and Maddie, hand in hand, were not far behind.

“What have I told you about using the front door after being out in the garden?” Brenna scolded. “Stevie, take the broom and clean up the trail of dirt I’m sure followed you into the house.”

“We couldn’t help it, Ma. When we turned the corner we noticed the teacher. He stopped at his gate like he was gonna go home, but then he crossed the street. He’s on the front porch now and wants to talk to you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

T
he sound of gunshots brought Charlie fully awake. Adrenaline pushed him from his bedroll and he leaped to his feet. As he strapped on his loaded six-gun, another shot sounded from behind the house.

Had someone followed him from Wilsonville?

Charlie moved silently through the barn to the tall doors. With his back to the wall, he felt for the handle. He carefully inched it open.

All was quiet.

Nothing looked amiss.

Anxiety for Nell sizzled inside him, contracting the muscles in his abdomen. The last thing he wanted was for an innocent woman to be hurt in his war.

He listened. And watched. The silence wrapped around the barn made the predawn darkness seem all the more dangerous.

He pulled the door open just enough to accommodate his size, flinching at the loud squeak. Darting out, he took cover alongside the barn wall, facing the house.

The dog came around the far side of the house, then trotted up the steps. When Charlie recognized Nell’s tall, slender shape ambling along after him as if nothing were wrong, he let go a breath of relief.

Holstering his gun, he stepped out of the shadows. “Nell,” he called quietly.

She stopped just short of the porch steps.

Striding over, he halted a few feet away. “Is everything all right? Gunshots woke me.” He could see that she wore her pants under her nightshirt. The dog flopped down by the front door.

“Dog cornered a rattlesnake against the house. Probably drawn to the warmth of the foundation.” Her hand slipped down and caressed the gun nestled in its holster around her hips. “I wouldn’t have killed the poor thing if it had been anywhere else. But so close to Dog, plus the horses and cattle, I had no choice.”

“And us?” Charlie asked. The sound of her voice stirred his blood. He let his gaze slip over her face. Four years was a long time to be alone—in the real sense of the word. Startled at the direction of his thoughts, he took a step back. “You could have been bitten,” he said tersely, wanting to feel anything except the attraction pulling him toward her. “You should have woken Seth or me.”

Her stance straightened as if she were looking for an argument. The dog climbed to his haunches and whined. “I don’t think I like your tone, Charlie Rose.” He thought she was serious until she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “You forget who’s boss around here?”

“Maybe I have and maybe not.”

When she reached out and plucked a piece of straw from his hair, a wave of fire crashed through his body.

“If you stay on, you best get used to me doing for myself.” Her tone shifted then from teasing to somber. “Sometimes I have problems sleeping.” She pulled her mass of curly hair over her shoulder and her hand trembled. “If I do, I go out.” A coyote yipped, mercifully drawing her gaze toward the horse pasture. “Fresh air helps.”

He understood that, all right. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the accident that had killed Annie. When he did drift off, visions of her body crushed beneath the overturned wagon, or of his three-year-old daughter crying for her mama, troubled his dreams. He should have been driving that day. If he had, Annie would be alive and Maddie would still have her sight. A bitter price to pay for putting his work before his family. Annie had driven the route a thousand times, but this time there’d been a runaway horse and wagon coming in the opposite direction.

The front door opened and Seth stepped out, a double-barrel shotgun held firm in his right hand. “Everything all right out here?” His gaze traveled from Charlie’s face to Nell’s and then back.

“Just a rattlesnake Dog was teasing.”

“Kill it?”

She nodded.

“Then I’m going back to bed.” He hesitated as if he had something else on his mind, then turned back into the house and was gone.

“Must be near four.” Nell pulled her hair over her shoulder again, making him think she was nervous. “Almost time to get up. If you want, I’ll put the coffee on early.”

“No, thanks,” he replied. He’d best keep a tight rein on his thoughts. With nothing remaining to talk about, he turned. “I’ll see you later.”

After Nell went inside and closed the door, Charlie headed for the barn. The early-morning air prickled the skin on his face. He gulped several deep breaths, feeling the chill in his throat. It felt good, cleared his mind. He needed to stay focused on Maddie. Couldn’t let himself be distracted. He had enough problems already.

CHAPTER SIX