Curled up near her feet, Rhett was using the other pillow, and tears burned her eyes as she replaced the pillow beneath her head. For all his orneriness lately, Wyatt was still a good boy at heart and had taken it upon himself to be the man of the family ever since Sam had died. “Good night, honey.”
“Night.” Silence barely had time to settle when he asked, “Do you think Brett would give me a job, Ma? He owns both the feed store and the blacksmith shop.”
Brett did own both businesses, and she’d already witnessed enough to believe he was generous enough to give anyone a job. Yet she couldn’t tell that to Wyatt. “You’re too young for a job.”
“No, I’m not, and if Brett gave me one, you wouldn’t need to marry the mayor.”
Fiona closed her eyes to gather any invisible strength still hiding somewhere inside her. “Yes, I would,” she whispered. “I gave him my word. I can’t go back on that.” She pinched her lips together and dug deep enough to say, “Besides, I want to marry Mr. Melbourne.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, Wyatt, I do.”
“Don’t see how you can when he don’t like none of us.”
“He never said—”
“He didn’t have to. I saw it in his eyes. He thinks we’re thieves. Thinks Pa was a thief too. Just like the folks in Ohio did.”
As hard as she’d tried to keep the children from hearing what had happened to their father, they had heard. Knew Sam had been with the Morgan brothers when they’d tried robbing the train. Knew he’d been shot while trying to get away. He’d made it home. Died in their bed. Therefore, everyone in town had thought she’d known what he’d been up to. Thought she could very well have been a participant. She hadn’t been. Hadn’t known what he and the Morgans had conjured up, but few had believed that.
No one had been more shocked by what had happened than she was. Sam had never stooped to such dire actions before. Things had never been easy, money had always been tight, but they’d managed. Somehow they had always managed. Losing his job at the refinery the year before had devastated Sam. Changed him. In ways she couldn’t explain, nor had she liked who he’d become. Always angry. Always blaming others for things that truly hadn’t mattered. Including her and the boys.
She swiped aside a single tear and drew a deep breath. “Your father was not a thief. He made a mistake. A terrible mistake. One he paid dearly for. You go to sleep now. And no more talking about jobs.”
Fiona felt more than heard Wyatt roll over, face away from the bed, and she had to pinch her nose to stop from sniffling as tears rolled down her cheeks. A part of her hated Sam for the pain he’d caused them. Her and Wyatt and Rhett. And for the disgrace they’d encountered. The hatred and scorn that had been bestowed upon them had been unbearable. Leaving Ohio had been the best choice, her only choice, and without Josiah’s offer, without his paying for the tickets, it would never have happened. If for no other reason than that, she would stand by her promise and marry Josiah Melbourne.
* * *
As usual, Brett rose at the break of dawn and set a pot of coffee to brew on the stove. It was Sunday, and the few chores he had to do—feeding and cleaning up after the team of horses he used to pull his wagon and kept housed in the barn connected to his blacksmith shop—wouldn’t take long. Never did. He missed having more to do in the mornings. Back home there had been cows to milk, hogs to slop, eggs to gather, chicks to feed, water to haul. All sorts of things. There was room in his barn and on his property to have more critters, but seeing he didn’t need them with just him to feed, he figured he’d wait until he had a family before acquiring anything more than the set of buckskin horses.
After pouring a cup of coffee, he glanced around the room and sighed. Washing dishes had never been something he enjoyed. It was just a chore that needed to be done, but last night it had been more than a task. Drying the dishes while Fiona washed them had been enjoyable. Even though he wondered if he’d asked too many questions, especially when he’d enquired about her husband. He hadn’t meant to pry but had been curious and had wanted to know more about her. Still did.
If he breathed deep enough, he could almost smell flowers again. And looking at her, well, that in itself was enjoyable. Especially when she smiled. It was like watching a bird take flight, gracefully opening its wings to catch the wind. Despite how beautiful her smile had been, it seemed almost rusty. Like she hadn’t used it very often. If he could change one thing about her, that would be it. Actually, that was the only thing that needed to be changed about her—her smile. It needed to become well used. Never leave her face.
Maybe he could ask them over for supper again tonight. That had made her smile last night, and having her and Rhett and Wyatt sitting at his table had given him more joy than he’d experienced in a long time. Those boys had been hungry, and even though she’d tried to pretend that she hadn’t been, she had been hungry too. Watching her eat, he’d wished he’d made more than just fish and eggs.
Their arrival should have been celebrated with a full meal. A fancy one, complete with dessert. That thought caused a knot to twist in the center of his stomach. As soon as he figured Josiah would be awake, he’d pay the man a visit. There were several questions rolling around in his head. Questions Josiah needed to answer.
With his thoughts trailing straight back to Fiona, Brett carried his cup of coffee outside and walked around the corner of his house, to where he could see the little city-owned house. As he stood there, staring across the area covered with grass that wouldn’t turn green again until it rained, he wondered what had happened to make Fiona agree to become Josiah’s wife. She was a sensible woman and didn’t seem like the type to take up with Josiah. Then again, she most likely hadn’t known exactly what Josiah was like when she agreed to marry him.
The front door of the house opened, and Fiona emerged, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders before pulling the door closed behind her. She was wearing the same dress as yesterday, but her hair was loose. Long and brown, it flowed over her shoulders, down her back, fluttering in the wind as she walked down the two steps and then made her way toward the outhouse.
Giving her privacy, or perhaps because he didn’t want to be seen staring at her, Brett turned and walked around the corner of his house. Taking a sip of his coffee made another thought form. The boys had said there wasn’t any food in the house they’d rented. At that thought, he entered his house, collected a clean cup and filled it with coffee. He then grabbed the handle of his egg basket. There were only six left, but that should be enough to hold Fiona and the boys over until the mercantile opened.
Outside again, Brett peered around the corner until he saw Fiona walking back toward the house, and then he hurried in that direction.
“Good morning,” he greeted, stopping her before she could open the front door.
Turning about, she released the hold she had on the doorknob. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Blackwell.”
Her voice was soft, and he tried to lower his as he stepped closer, understanding the boys were still sleeping. “I brought you some coffee and some eggs. The mercantile doesn’t open until eight.”
The small smile on her lips didn’t falter, but something about her did, and he wondered why. “The coffee is still hot,” he said. Plenty of people didn’t like cold coffee. Plenty of people didn’t like coffee. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any tea.”
She shook her head slightly. “I prefer coffee, thank you, but I—”
“Here.” He handed her the extra cup. Thinking of last night when he’d had to coax her into eating, he then set the basket on the top step. “Do you have a minute?”
“Why?”
“I want to