Blowing on Dandelions (4 page)

Chapter Five

A shadow fell across Micah’s face, breaking his concentration. His chin jerked up, and he glanced toward the person standing in the doorway of his livery, silhouetted against the harsh glare of the early afternoon sun. Setting aside the buggy strap he’d been repairing for the grocer, he raised his hand. “Can I help you?”

A man who appeared to be nearing thirty and who was wearing dark trousers and a white shirt held his hat in one hand and extended his other. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Pastor Seth Russell from Baker City Community Church, a couple of blocks from here.”

Micah was surprised at the strength of the man’s grip. “Micah Jacobs. What brought you by today? Something you need done?”

“Not a thing, thank you. I thought since you and your son are new to town, I’d make your acquaintance and invite you to join us for service. We’re a small congregation but friendly. It’s a good way to meet your neighbors.”

Micah scrubbed his sleeve across his forehead and reached for a clean rag, stalling for time. He’d hate to offend this man, but the last place he cared to spend his Sundays was church. Not that he didn’t believe in God. He did. But spending time under the scrutiny of well-meaning people who wanted to pray him through his problems didn’t appeal. That used to be his way, but not since Emma’s death.

He wiped his hands and face. “Sorry, I’m not really a churchgoing man, Pastor Russell.”

“Seth, or Pastor Seth, if it’s all right with you. I don’t see the need to stand on formality in a small town like Baker City.”

“Pastor Seth, then. And I’m Micah.”

Silence stretched out, and Micah’s shoulders tensed. Funny he’d have so much trouble talking to this man-of-the-cloth. At one time his pastor had been a close friend, and they’d jawed for hours on a number of subjects. Now that seemed a lifetime ago.

Pastor Seth appeared at ease, his hat tucked under his arm. With a gentle smile, he gestured around the barn. “Looks like you’ve made some improvements since you arrived.” He nodded toward the rebuilt stall doors and the new anvil.

Surprised the pastor hadn’t pursued his refusal, Micah managed, “Yes, I’m considering a bit more when I have the time and money.”

“You’re living upstairs?”

He nodded. “With my son, Zachary.”

Silence again. Micah tried not to fidget. He needed to get back to work but didn’t care to be rude. Seth Russell was being decent, and Micah owed him the same courtesy.

The pastor’s smile grew slowly until it lit his countenance. “I’ll be off then. I don’t want to keep you.” He gripped Micah’s hand once more. “If there’s ever anything you need—anything at all—my door is always open, whether or not you attend church.”

Micah tried to keep his surprise from registering on his face. “I can’t imagine I will, but thank you just the same. I appreciate the offer.”

Pastor Seth headed toward the door. “God be with you, Micah Jacobs.”

The words fell around Micah’s shoulders like a warm blanket, but he shook them off. God hadn’t been with him when he needed Him the most, and Micah didn’t care to have Him start now.

Lucy slowed her pace and pivoted toward the footsteps slapping the ground behind her.

Zachary.

Pleasure shot through her at the sight of her new friend. How silly that Ma thought he was a beau. She’d been honest when she tried to explain that Zachary truly listened, unlike everyone else at school. Pa had always listened when she needed someone to talk to, but since his death, Ma seemed preoccupied and rarely spent time alone with her. Of course, Ma had her hands full with the boardinghouse, and now that Grandma had arrived, Lucy knew things would get worse. She frowned and aimed a kick at a rock.

Zachary panted from running across the street to catch her. “What’s the matter? You don’t look happy.”

“The last four days with Grandma have been hard.”

“I don’t have a grandma. I think you’re lucky.”

She hunched a shoulder. “Maybe. I guess I’m glad, but sometimes she’s not very nice.”

“To you?” He swung his cloth lunch bag between them, keeping time with their steps.

“No, she’s pleasant to me and Mandy. Mostly she’s not kind to Ma.”

“So was she your father’s ma, then?”

“No. That’s the strange thing. She’s Ma’s mother. But they don’t get along at all.” Lucy kicked a pinecone out of the way. “And Ma’s never mean to Grandma. She lets her say anything she wants and never stands up for herself. Makes me mad.”

“At your ma or your grandma?” Zachary cocked an eyebrow.

Lucy sighed. “I don’t know. Both of them, I guess. I wish Grandma wasn’t going to stay at our house forever. In the past, when she came to visit, I knew she’d leave soon … but not this time. And before, my pa helped a lot too. He knew how to talk to Grandma when she started getting upset with Ma. Now meals aren’t very happy ’cause Grandma picks on Ma’s cooking and the way she takes care of the boardinghouse.”

“I wish I could help.”

Lucy shook her head, then stopped. “Maybe you can.” She grinned. “We only have one boarder right now, and he doesn’t seem to notice the things Grandma says. Or he doesn’t care—I’m not sure which. Anyway, if you mean it about helping, I have an idea …” Lucy began whispering in his ear.

“You did what?” Katherine planted her hands on her hips and stared at her older daughter, not certain she’d heard correctly.

“I invited Zachary and his father for supper tonight. They’re new, and Zachary says they don’t know hardly anybody yet. His pa hasn’t even taken him to church; he works all the time.”

“But why in the world would you invite them to supper? Grandma is here, and I’ve got my hands full.”

Lucy’s gaze flicked to the ceiling. “Ma, I thought you always said we’re supposed to show hospitality to our neighbors and to people in need. Right?”

Katherine sighed. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Zachary doesn’t have a mother. She died at least a year ago … or more … and he never gets decent meals. His pa can barely cook. Don’t you think that’s being in need?”

Katherine wasn’t sure whether to hug her daughter for her kind heart or shake her for adding more work to her schedule without permission. Of course, it wasn’t like they had many boarders right now, and their big table was less than half full most of the time, even with Mama. “I suppose.”

Lucy squealed and threw her arms around her mother’s neck, hugging her hard. “Thanks, Ma. You won’t be sorry. Besides, you didn’t like that I made friends with Zachary, so I hope you will change your mind once you meet him.”

Katherine drew back. “This is the same boy you ran off with last week when you were supposed to come home and help me?”

“Y-e-s …” Lucy drew the word out with a worried tone. “You don’t remember his name?”

Katherine’s thoughts tumbled over each other trying to keep up. The boy Lucy had befriended was the son of the man who’d almost run over Mandy. The man who’d driven by in his wagon the day Mama arrived, who’d waved but hadn’t stopped to speak. He’d lost his wife so recently? No wonder his eyes were hooded with sadness, and his conversation was short. “No. I didn’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. You’re right. If he’s a new friend, then I’d like to meet him. Especially before you spend any more time with him.”

Lucy nodded. “I guess I’ll go up to my room now.”

“Oh no you don’t, young lady. You invited guests; you’re helping with supper preparations. Besides, you have regular chores, and you can’t accomplish them in your room.”

Lucy slumped and hung her head. “I know. Is …”—she glanced toward the kitchen—“Grandma going to help too?”

Katherine studied her daughter, wondering what was going through her young head. “I’m not sure. She’s resting right now, but she may be down before supper. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” Lucy perked up and spun away. “I’ll put my books in my room and be right back.” She dashed for the stairs.

“Stop right there.” Katherine stepped toward her. “Are you sure Zachary and his father will even come for supper without me having invited them personally?”

Lucy brightened. “Don’t worry. I told Zachary to tell his father that you’d be proud to have them come meet our family and that you’d be expecting them at six.”

Katherine blinked. “Expecting? You made it sound as though I invited the man! I didn’t even know about the invitation until now.”

Lucy’s blond hair swayed with the vehemence of her head shaking. “But, Ma, you
are
expecting him, and you’re always proud to have people meet your family. Right?” She bolted for the stairs, leaving Katherine rooted to the spot.

So a widower and his son were coming for dinner, and the man thought she’d invited him. Katherine placed her palms against her warm cheeks and looked down at her old housedress. Well, he’d have to take her as he found her, that’s all there was to it. She was not in the market for another husband, and she’d make sure he understood that wasn’t her intent before the evening was over.

Chapter Six

Micah tugged at his collar, trying to loosen it. Why had he agreed to this fool notion, anyway? All right, so he wasn’t the best cook in town and a home-cooked meal didn’t sound half bad. That didn’t mean they should traipse over to some woman’s house just because she wanted to be hospitable. Even if that woman
was
downright pretty.

His stomach rumbled, and he resisted the urge to slap it. Traitor.

Zachary had added to the insult by telling him it was high time they had something to eat besides stew, potatoes and eggs, and burned biscuits.

Micah stilled his hand.
Hospitality.
Wasn’t that a word women sometimes used when they were trying to lure a man into their web?

Maybe they’d better stay home. “Zachary.” He stalked out of his room and lifted his voice again. “Where are you?”

Zachary poked his curly dark head out of his room. “Right here. Why’re you shouting, Pa?”

Micah scowled, then smoothed his features into a more pleasant expression. “I think we should send our regrets to Mrs. Galloway. You need to run over there and let her know we won’t be coming to supper tonight.”

“Why ever not?”

Blame it all, he hadn’t thought that far. He ran his fingers through his hair and struggled to come up with a decent excuse.

Nothing surfaced.

Zachary, evidently sensing his hesitation, jumped into the silence. “We’re supposed to be there in thirty minutes. You’ve always told me we shouldn’t be rude to folks. I reckon Mrs. Galloway has dinner almost finished.”

Zachary’s common sense swept over Micah, and he slumped in defeat. There was no help for it. He didn’t care to give the woman more work on their account, but if she’d already fixed the meal, it wouldn’t be right to make her waste it either. “All right, we’ll go. But we’re not staying long.” He set his hat on his head and shoved it down hard.

If Katherine Galloway thought she could set her cap for him, she’d better think again. It didn’t matter that she was good looking and appeared to have a sweet, quiet nature. Appearances could be deceptive. Besides,
nobody
could take his Emma’s place, and he didn’t aim to let this Mrs. Galloway try. No, sir.

Frances tromped down the stairs, her head fuzzy from the late-afternoon nap. She hated needing to rest. Her joints hurt, and her body ached constantly—reminders of the advancing years. Why hadn’t Katherine awakened her and asked her to help prepare supper? Her daughter had enough on her hands washing the linens for the rooms and cleaning this house, in addition to caring for Amanda and Lucy.

Dishes rattling in the kitchen drew Frances in that direction. Indeed, Katherine was busy preparing the meal without her assistance. Frances surveyed the room with grudging admiration. It was spacious and well lit during the daylight hours due to the large window set over the washbasin. It also had a water pump, a massive cook stove, and a multitude of shelves and cupboards. Most frontier towns didn’t boast houses this fine. Why, Katherine hardly needed the pantry situated right behind the room. “Seems like a bit much, if you ask me.”

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Katherine whirled, hand over her heart. “Mama, you startled me. I didn’t realize you were up.”

“Been up for fifteen minutes. Thought you’d come upstairs to check on me and ask me to help you with supper, but it appears you don’t need me.” She turned, wounded that Katherine didn’t care to include her in supper preparations.

Lucy came through the door from the pantry carrying two loaves of bread. “Hi, Grandma. You’re awake. It’s nice to see you.”

Frances relaxed at the cheerful tone. At least someone in her family cared. “Thank you, dear. Where’s your sister?”

“She’s picking flowers for the table in a meadow.”

Frances shot Katherine a startled look. “You allow a six-year-old child to go into the woods alone?”

Katherine reached for the bread as Lucy set it down. “I’ll get this sliced, and you can put it on the table.” She picked up the knife. “She doesn’t need to go to the woods to find flowers, or even cross the road. This isn’t the city, Mama. There’s a nice stand of wildflowers blooming in a field near here. It’s a short walk, and she’s perfectly safe.”

Frances sniffed, not especially happy with the reply, but what could she say? “What do you want me to do?” Frances looked at the pot of potatoes simmering on the stove, then opened the oven door. Waves of warm fragrance hit her, and her mouth watered.

“Why don’t you sit and rest? I think Lucy and I have it under control.”

“Nonsense. I’m not dead yet, and I just got up from a nap, remember? I’ll make the gravy. June gave me her recipe. She always did make the best gravy.”

No sense in waiting on her daughter to make up her mind. Frances opened a cupboard and withdrew a large cast-iron skillet.

Katherine turned her face away. “Fine, Mama. Have it your way. What did you mean when you came into the kitchen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You said, ‘seems like a bit much.’ What were you referring to?”

Frances waved her hand in the air. “This kitchen. There are more cupboards, drawers, and doodads than one woman will ever use. Seems almost sinful to have so much and certainly not necessary.”

“I run a boardinghouse, Mama. I need to store a lot of staples for the times we’re full.”

“That’s what a pantry is for. June and I ran a boardinghouse years ago. She didn’t need this big of a kitchen.”

“It came with the house, and I appreciate having the extra space.” Katherine spun at the patter of light footfalls coming into the room. “Mandy. What did you find, honey?”

“Indian paintbrush and lupine.” Her hand gripped the stems of the red and purple flowers. “Can I put them in a Mason jar?”

“Let me fill it with water first. Thank you for gathering such a pretty bouquet.”

Amanda’s little face beamed with delight. “You’re welcome.” She waited for her mother to place the jar on the table, then climbed up on a chair and carefully settled the stems into the water. “Grandma, isn’t it pretty?” Amanda asked with a wide smile.

A rush of love swamped Frances’s heart. “They’re beautiful. You did a good job finding them.”

Frances caught a brief glimpse of pain in Katherine’s eyes before she turned away. Why wouldn’t Katherine want her to compliment her granddaughter? Was Katherine so miserly she didn’t want to share Amanda?

The front door closed, and then Mr. Tucker stood framed in the opening of the kitchen archway. “I hope I’m not late for supper, Mrs. Galloway.” He held his hat in his hands, and his gaze darted from the stove to the bread Lucy was slicing.

“Not at all. You have plenty of time to wash up before we set the table.”

“Good. I’d hate to miss out on your excellent cooking.”

“Humph,” Frances mumbled. “If you think that, you should’ve met my daughter June.” She lifted her head. “Now
she
was a good cook.”

Katherine ground her teeth to keep from saying something she’d regret. She caught Lucy’s angry glance but shook her head. There was nothing to be gained by getting drawn into one of Mama’s tirades. Best to let this type of comment go. Surely Mama didn’t mean to be as harsh as she sounded. Katherine was determined to give her the benefit of the doubt and to try to maintain peace in her household if at all possible. But it stung, nevertheless.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Mama narrowed her eyes. “Or are you pouting again?”

“Of course not, Mama.” Katherine dropped a dollop of butter into the potatoes and continued mashing. Maybe she could take her frustration out on the food. “Lucy, could you set the table, please?”

“Sure.” Lucy slid a stack of china plates to the edge of the cupboard, then lifted them down and carried them to the table.

“Ma, someone knocked on the door.” Mandy bounced on her toes. “May I answer it?”

Katherine wiped her damp forehead. Her heart sank. She’d forgotten about Micah Jacobs and his son, Zachary, during all the to-do with Mama. She bit back a groan. “No, Mandy, I’d better get it.”

Trudging to the door, Katherine poked her hair into some semblance of order and brushed a bit of food off her apron. Their guests were early. She’d decided not to go to any trouble to make a good impression, but she hadn’t planned on looking like a scullery maid. Picturing those deep green eyes again, she jerked her hand away from the knob with a growing panic.

What would Mr. Jacobs think, seeing her like this?