The two of them were a load, but he didn’t mind. He could spare them a little extra attention once in a while.
Just as he would have for Beau and Nancy.
Sorrow dripped its bitter poison into his veins.
Libby touched his cheek. “What’s wrong? You look sad.”
He nodded. “Sometimes I am.”
She didn’t ask for more explanation but pressed her head to his neck in a way that offered comfort.
And he let her. For the first time he accepted it from someone. Somehow it seemed fitting it should come from a child.
Over the meal, Bonnie chattered about everything under the sun. Claude added a comment or two, asked a question of Blue that he answered in as few words as possible. Clara seemed equally indisposed to conversation, though the girls more than made up for their mother’s lack.
When the meal was over, Clara offered to help clean up. He rose and left but paused outside the little shack. If he went in, she would object to the intrusion. But if he didn’t, he’d worry all night about the safety of the stove. He’d sooner endure her wrath than his worry and stomped inside.
The first thing that hit him was the scent of something sweet. Perhaps a perfume or a scented soap. Or perhaps it was simply the way a space with three females would smell.
The furniture and boxes had been rearranged so the open space where they would sleep was closer to the door, farther away from the stove. He had no idea why she’d placed things so, but it eased his mind to know they wouldn’t likely be trapped by a fire.
Three dresses hung from hooks on one wall. Two small ones and one larger. He stared at them for a moment as a flood of memories assailed him. Hadn’t Alice and Nancy hung their dresses in a similar fashion? His and Beau’s shirts had hung side by side, too. He’d often thought it was an indication of what was to come...the child growing until the garments became the same size as the parent’s or even larger.
Only his children would never reach adulthood.
He drew a long breath into his starving lungs and turned his back on the clothes and his attention back to the task he’d come for.
He shook out the ashes and took them outside, then built a fire in the stove. One that would burn slowly and steadily. No sudden flaring and overheating. Then he returned to the church.
The winter days were short, requiring him to light a lamp. He settled comfortably on his bedroll with one of the books he’d brought with him from the ranch.
His mind wandered from the story. Working with Clara triggered so many memories. Some he didn’t welcome. But he let his mind go back to Texas and the days he’d worked with his pa. When was the last time he’d written home?
Not since he’d notified Pa of the death of Alice and the children. Why? He leaned back on the rolled-up bedding and thought of his reasons. Mostly, he’d shut his mind to anything but the moment before him. He allowed no thoughts of the past. Not even of his pa. Poor Pa must be worried about Blue, especially as he didn’t even know where he was or how to contact him.
He bound to his feet, grabbed his coat and strode down the street toward Macpherson’s store. It would be closed and locked up by now, but Macpherson lived in the same building.
Blue banged on the door until Macpherson threw it open.
“Blue, what’s all the racket about? I’m closed for the day.”
Blue knew he opened the door for business whenever it was required. Travelers came at odd hours, especially in the summer when daylight lasted long into the evening.
“I need to purchase something.”
Macpherson stepped aside and let Blue inside. “And it couldn’t wait until morning?”
Blue didn’t want to wait. “I’m working during the day.”
Macpherson gave him an odd look. “What is it you need?”
The words stuck in Blue’s throat. His request was going to sound mighty odd to Macpherson. But now that he was here, he had no intention of retreating. “I’d like to purchase a piece of paper, an envelope and a stamp.”
Macpherson stared at him. “You needed me to open the store for that? You know the mail won’t even go out until Petey returns.”
“Yeah, I know.” Seen through Macpherson’s eyes it did sound foolish, but Blue wanted to write Pa while he had the notion. After all, it wasn’t like the notion came around often.