He took the spoon back. “Think it might take a little longer for your strength to return.”
She didn’t want to feel helpless, but he was right. “I feel like a baby,” she murmured.
“’Cause Mr. Blue is feeding you?” Libby asked.
“Yes.”
“She’s not a baby, is she?” Libby demanded of Blue.
Clara darted a glance at him under the curtain of her eyelashes.
“Nope, she’s a mama.” Blue continued to feed her as if it were an everyday experience.
She looked directly at him, matching him look for look, silent assessment with silent assessment. “I perceive you’ve had practice at this. You must have children.”
His hand paused midair. He stared into the distance, then shifted his attention back to her. “I once did. Once had a wife, too.”
Once? He spoke as if they were gone now. It could mean nothing else, and her insides wrenched with the thought of his loss. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s the past.” The words came out flat, as if he felt nothing.
A shiver crossed her shoulders. She knew it wasn’t something that left a person immune.
He mistook her shiver. “You’re still cold.” He tossed the last of the gathered wood into the fire.
“I’m not cold.” Any more than you aren’t sorrowful. She shifted again and reached for the bowl and spoon. She managed to eat the rest of the soup without spilling it. He handed out biscuits, and the girls sighed blissfully as they bit into them.
Clara couldn’t blame them. The biscuits tasted fine and went a long way toward filling the emptiness in her stomach. Though she’d fed the children whatever food she’d found the past two days, she’d no doubt they were still hungry. She watched as they ate with glee.
Blue sat cross-legged facing her. “Ma’am, if you tell me where you’re going, I’ll see you get there.”
She studied the half-eaten biscuit in her fingers. Felt his waiting and the watchfulness of the girls. She had to say something and settled on a portion of the truth. “I’m waiting for a ride from someone.”
When he didn’t say a thing, she looked at him. She wished she hadn’t when she saw the way his expression grew hard. He glanced at the girls, then back at her. He leaned in. “This person is going to come today?” He was so close his breath brushed her cheeks.
“I’m not certain when to expect him.” Petey, the stagecoach driver, had made only one thing clear about his return.
“Ye’ll know when I’m back in town,” he’d said. “Won’t likely stop long with winter weather to contend with. So be here and be ready if you want a ride. ’Twill be the last trip I make north for the winter.”
“So you’re stranded until this person shows up?” Blue asked. “What if he doesn’t?”
She sat up straight and tipped her chin. She had no intention of telling this man her plans. “I’m trusting God to take care of us. He will provide.”
He sat back. “Exactly how long are you planning to wait for that to happen?”
“As long as it takes.” It sounded foolish, simplistic, even childish, but she had no one else to turn to but God, nor did she trust anyone else. Anyone could reveal her whereabouts to a seemingly concerned person asking after her, and that bit of information could be relayed to her father. She managed to control the shiver racing through her. If Father found them...
“In the meantime, are you planning to sleep in empty buildings? Faint from hunger and cold? What about—” His gaze darted to the girls and back.
This was not a conversation she wanted her daughters to hear. “Girls, you can go play quietly.”
“Where, Mama?” Libby’s surprise was expected. Where could they go but to a different corner of the big room?
Eleanor took her sister’s hand. “Come on, Lib. They want to argue, and we’re not supposed to hear.”
“We aren’t going to argue,” Clara called as they marched away. She faced Blue squarely. “I can take care of the girls with God’s help.”
His eyes never flickered. His expression never changed. “It’s none of my business, but seems to me you need a better plan than sitting around waiting for something to fall from the sky.”