The Homesteader's Sweetheart (14 page)

He shrugged. “Sometimes you could find a bed in one of the homes. Sometimes it was just curling up in some newsprint over a heat register outside a house or business. There were a lot of us on the streets. We made do.”

She didn’t even have to close her eyes to remember the dirty street urchins she and her friends from Mrs. Trimble’s Academy would pass sometimes on their way to the stores to shop. She’d turned her face away from the poignant stares, unable to bear even looking at them. Remembering her coldness shamed her.

“But how did you eat? And get new clothes?”

“I hawked papers for a bit. Did my best business as a bootblack.”

He must’ve seen her puzzled look, though he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He explained, “I shined shoes.”

Oh. Absently, she wondered how much money one could make doing that. It couldn’t be much. And yet he had managed to survive.

“One of my customers was Pete, who happened to be a bricklayer. He was a regular, and after a while he saw me keep doing a good job. He decided to take me on as his apprentice.”

“So that’s how you came to work at the home next door to Mrs. Trimble’s.”

“Mm-hmm, eventually. I worked with him for a year and a half. He gave me a room in the back of his shop. Really it was a little closet. He taught me a lot. Was one of the first people to show me respect.”

“And then you started working next door…”

His face tightened, and she knew there was more he wasn’t telling her. “What?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t want—Breanna might wake.”

Something he didn’t want his daughter to hear. And sure enough, even as he spoke, Breanna rustled and a soft “hmm” slipped from her lips. After a moment, she popped up on the couch, one side of her hair sticking every which way out of its braid.

“When’s dinner?”

Breanna’s question preceded a stampede of boys coming from their bedrooms. Walt roused, as well, and after gathering his bearings, nodded out the window to the moisture that had turned to a fine mist.

“We’d better be getting home, girl.”

And Penny found, for the first time, she didn’t want to leave.

Chapter Thirteen

J
onas shifted in the saddle, keeping one eye on the boys curled in their bedrolls around the campfire and the other on the small herd of bovines rustling quietly in a bunch nearby. He and his sons had driven the cattle hard the last two days and should reach Cheyenne tomorrow mid-morning. With Oscar left at home to take care of the basic chores, and Breanna and Seb staying with Walt and Penny, Jonas didn’t feel he had to rush the trip, not like he usually did.

He’d reluctantly agreed to Maxwell’s request that Sam come along on their short cattle drive, and so far he’d been pleasantly surprised by the boy. Sam and Maxwell seemed to have developed a rapport while working together to fix Walt’s barn and some fence line, but Jonas still didn’t completely trust Penny’s brother.

Thinking of Sam made him remember Penny, and one thought kept running through his mind over and over again, especially in the quiet of night, like right now.

Will she ever look at me the same again?

After two days on the trail, he’d hoped to gain some perspective; he’d felt raw, as if his insides had been scraped clean, from the confessions he’d made to Penny in the aftermath of the rainstorm.

She had been so attentive when he’d told the boys’ stories. Was that what had pushed him to tell her his own? He’d shared it with only a few people. And none, not even Walt, knew what he’d nearly confessed before remembering Breanna was in the room and could wake at any moment.

His deepest secret.

That he’d bitterly disappointed Pete, the man who’d taken him in off the streets and taught him about bricklaying. Up until Breanna’s conception, he’d thought of Pete as a surrogate father.

He’d gone to Pete when he realized the mess with Breanna’s mother wasn’t going away. Pete hadn’t believed him when Jonas had said he hadn’t touched Millie Broadhurst. His mentor didn’t understand Jonas’s need to take care of the helpless baby that would be born.

Pete had kicked Jonas out of the little room in his shop and refused to listen. Jonas had spent two nights on the street until the Broadhursts had sent him and Millie to an aunt’s home in Boston to wait for Breanna’s birth.

Pete’s unbelief had hurt almost as much as Jonas’s parents’ desertions because he’d thought Pete had had a better opinion of him, would believe him. Apparently, Pete hadn’t been able to overlook Jonas’s past and upbringing on the streets.

Now that she knew, Jonas worried that Penny wouldn’t see him the same way, either.

And unfortunately, she seemed to be the only thing his sons wanted to talk about. They were still singing her praises for her skilled bareback riding when she’d helped bring in the cattle. She’d surprised them all, including him, with her finesse and determination to see the job through.

Thinking about the loose cattle gave Jonas a little relief from thinking about his lovely temporary neighbor, but brought another puzzle before him. When he’d gone back to the corral, he’d found the fence post that had supposedly been knocked down by the cattle when they’d panicked from the storm.

Only it had appeared to have been tampered with. It looked like someone had partially dug it up and then used a heavy leather strap of some sort to pull it out of the ground. But who would do something like that? And why?

Jonas knew not everyone in town agreed with his actions, taking in the boys like he did, but he didn’t think anyone would let his cattle out on purpose. It was a dangerous thing to do and could’ve lost him the money he hoped to gain by selling the animals.

Maybe he’d been wrong about the post. He’d have to look at it again when he and the boys returned from Cheyenne.

Movement from the bedrolls near the fire alerted Jonas that it was almost time to let Maxwell and Sam take their turn watching the herd. The two boys spoke softly and moved to saddle their horses, picketed near the fire but not close enough they’d trample the group as they slept.

Jonas walked his horse over and dismounted, preparing to rub down the animal and settle it for the night. He nodded silently to Sam as the boy worked at saddling a sleepy mare.

Then, remembering the joyful expression on Penny’s face when he’d encouraged her brother once before, he paused and turned to the teen.

“Thank you for your help on this trip. You’ve proved yourself a good hand.”

Sam’s surprised glance and the bashful hint of pride before he turned his face to his task told Jonas enough. He wasn’t used to compliments. Probably not used to having to work for himself, either, but Jonas had spoken true: Sam had done a good job so far.

“And I know your granddad is happy to have your help around his place.”

Sam kept his eyes on his saddle fastenings this time. Jonas wanted to encourage him in the same way he would’ve encouraged Maxwell or any of his other boys. What could he say that would connect with Sam?

“A man feels a certain sense of pride when he does a good job. Even if no one else notices.”

Jonas clapped one hand on the boy’s shoulder and then turned to find his bedroll.

* * *

Breanna and Seb settled for the night, Penny joined her grandfather in the kitchen, hoping to steal a few moments to work on the dress she was sewing for Breanna. Walt sat across from her at the scarred kitchen table.

With the light from the flickering fire and a tapered candle, Penny carefully reviewed the lines of the fabric she’d already pieced together before she tucked in with her needle.

Mrs. Peterson from the mercantile had given her such a deal on the fabric that she’d bought enough to make a shirt for each of the boys and one for Jonas, too, but with two children underfoot in the evenings, she’d been hard-pressed to find time to make the new garments. She wanted them to be a surprise. She could just imagine the looks on the children’s faces when they saw their gifts.

“You know, Penny-girl…” Her grandfather started to speak, then hesitated. “I was dozin’ on Sunday afternoon while you and Jonas were talkin’, but I came awake before the end of it. I know you’re used to your high society fellas—”

Penny interrupted him, holding up a needle pinched between her fingers, to halt his words. “I don’t look down on Jonas because of his upbringing, if that’s what you’re getting after.”

Her grandfather looked surprised. He shifted in his seat. “Well, good.”

“In fact, what he’s had to overcome makes me admire him more.”

It was true. She’d thought he had a soft heart when she’d guessed what he’d done for the boys and after she’d learned the truth about Breanna, but finding out that Jonas had been abandoned and yet had managed to make a successful life for himself and his family made her admire him even more.

And those vulnerable moments where he’d shown her the boy inside still searching for love…well, they touched her heart.

She didn’t know what to do with her growing feelings. She hadn’t planned to feel anything more than friendship for her grandfather’s neighbor, but her emotions hadn’t waited for permission to become engaged.

“Jonas is a good man. He’ll make a good husband.”

A flush climbed into her cheeks. “Grandfather—”

This time it was her grandfather who interrupted her. “I’m not saying you’re looking—I’m not saying you’re not, mind—but he’s got as many good qualities as those highfalutin fellas you’re used to. He’s got the strength to survive this land. He cares for those young’uns like his own kin. Your gran loved him.”

Penny looked down at the pink-sprigged material spread over the table, traced one of the lines with her index finger. “I’m learning that Jonas is all those thing. But, Grandfather…I’m not sure I could be a homesteader’s wife.”

She looked up to find him considering her patiently. It gave her the courage to go on. “I remember Gran being so good at things…she was the best cook around. Could sew anything, managed the household…” She waved her hand to indicate the charred wall behind the stove. “I can’t even fry an egg!”

He chuckled, his bristly white mustache quivering. “Your gran didn’t start out that way. Oh, her ma taught her some things, some basic cooking skills. But when she married me at seventeen, she didn’t know anything about living on a homestead. She burnt our biscuits a few times ’fore she got the hang of things.”

Her grandfather’s voice trailed off, a sad smile lingering on his face. Penny knew he still thought about her gran often. They’d loved each other so much. That was what Penny wanted in a husband, that kind of devotion.

“She loved this land,” he went on. “And she loved me. That’s what made our marriage work, even through the hard times.”

Her grandfather stood up and moved toward her, clasped her hand in one of his wrinkled paws. “That’s what kind of love Jonas deserves. And you do, too.” He patted her hand. “G’night, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight.”

Penny contemplated her grandfather’s words as she tied off her thread and nipped off the extra. She remembered Breanna’s wide eyes when she’d admired the store-bought dress back in Calvin’s General Store, and Penny wanted this gift to be perfect for the girl she was coming to love.

She agreed with her grandfather that Jonas deserved someone special for his wife. Problem was, even with her burgeoning feelings, she wasn’t sure that person was her.

* * *

The sun had set, but Penny remained at the Whites’, trying to concentrate on mending a tear in Ricky’s shirt and listen to Maxwell practice his words at the same time. While ignoring the noise emanating from Davy and Seb wrestling on the floor and Edgar picking at a banged-up banjo.

“You’re doing well,” she said when Maxwell paused, giving the boy a gentle smile.

And he was. Although his schooling had apparently been spotty, he could make out most of the letters and knew their sounds. And he was intelligent. Penny thought he’d be reading just fine with a few months of additional practice.

It was Jonas’s curious, furtive glances from across the room that intrigued her and made her think perhaps Maxwell wasn’t the only one with an unfinished education.

But the last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him in front of his children. She would wait to ask him about it later.

Instead, she asked, “Jonas, Mrs. Peterson asked me to remind you about the barn-raising next week. Grandfather said he wanted to go. Are you taking the children?”

Her query was met with a tense look, but before Jonas could answer, Breanna exclaimed, “Oh, yes, Pa, let’s go! Can we?”

“May we,” Penny corrected gently.

“May we, may we?” the girl chanted, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The wrestling boys quieted and looked expectantly to their father for his answer.

Oscar, next to Penny, lowered his head over his clasped hands with a slight shake.

“I don’t know,” came Jonas’s quiet reply.

“Aw, Pa, we
never
git to go!”

Maxwell shushed Seb, while Breanna cried, “But I want to see my friends!”

Penny wondered what she’d started. Her question had been asked in innocence, just relaying Mrs. Peterson’s query, but the children’s reactions surprised her.

“We still have some things to get done around here before we start haying; Maxwell’s trying to get his filly trained, and there are other tasks as well. We may not have time to attend the barn-raising. We’ll have to see.”

A couple of the boys’ shoulders slumped, and Breanna wilted. Maxwell and Oscar showed no reaction. Jaw tight, Jonas rose and went to the door, grabbing his hat off a peg on the wall.

“I’m sure you’re tuckered, Miss Penny.” He spoke without looking back to see the children’s disappointed miens. “I’ll get the roan saddled up and take you home.”

“I can walk,” she said, because her grandfather had mentioned there was a full moon tonight. It would give her enough light to see by.

“That’s all right.” His words rang with finality, and he shut the door behind him without looking back.

The children were unnaturally quiet as she tucked the mending into a basket and gathered up the shawl she’d borrowed from amongst her grandmother’s things. Even in summer, the Wyoming evenings cooled off.

“Is Pa ashamed of us?”

Her head came up at the question and its asker. It hadn’t come from Seb or Breanna, like she might expect, but from Ricky, who always seemed confident, but now wouldn’t quite meet her eye.

“He ain’t,” Oscar said, voice lacking conviction.

“I agree.” Penny infused confidence in her voice. “Your father is very proud of each of you.”

“Then why won’t he take us to the barn-raising? Or Patty Neel’s weddin’ last month?” This came from Davy, still sprawled on the floor.

“Does your father always tell you the truth?” Penny’s query earned frowns all around as they tried to dissect her question.

“Yep,” Seb answered matter-of-factly. Some of the other boys nodded.

“Then, if your father says there’s work to be done, is there really work to be done?”

“Yes,” a couple of voices chorused, sounding more sure of themselves.

Maxwell’s head remained down, though, as if focused on his work, but as Penny watched, the finger he’d been using earlier to trace the words didn’t move. He just stared down at the primer. She wanted to reassure him, so she placed a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, finally looking up, surprise on his face.