Lisa Plumley - [Crabtree 02] Page 2

  They both moved, it occurred to Daniel, with the same haste the train conductor and engineer had employed.

  “Hold, there!” Daniel bellowed.

  At his shout, the boy started. His scrawny shoulders jerked. A mighty snuffle issued from the vicinity of Daniel’s shirtfront. Awkwardly, he lowered his voice.

  “What about my delivery?” he demanded.

  “You’re holdin’ it,” the stationmaster said.

  The clerk nodded.

  Daniel frowned.

  The crowd watched avidly. Their expressions put him in mind of the sight that probably greeted a lion tamer when he looked out from inside the circus ring. What the hell was going on here? Had everyone gone daft?

  “I was not expecting…a child.”

  “We’ve heard that afore!” someone shouted from the crowd.

  Titters followed.

  “Yeah. Long about April, after a long winter’s rest.”

  More chortles. Daniel didn’t find this situation funny in the least. A child had attached itself to him—a child who appeared to know him. Experimentally, he took a step sideways. The boy trundled right in time with him. ’Twas like having a third boot. Or an extra arm. Or a squirmy, four-foot shadow. One that smelled like cabbages and surreptitiously wiped its nose on Daniel’s shirtsleeve.

  Again he tried to wrench the boy free. This time, he accomplished a full three-inch space between them before the child locked his bony arms around as much of Daniel’s middle as he could reach and hurled himself forward once more.

  Something inside Daniel lurched a little, as well. Most likely, it was the further settling of his dinner. But it felt a scant bit like some mush-hearted emotion…concern, maybe. Staunchly, he shoved it back. He placed both hands over the urchin’s ears.

  “You’ll have to take him back,” Daniel commanded in a low voice. “This is a mistake. I can’t take delivery on a child.”

  “He’s yours,” the stationmaster said. “Good luck.”

  “He’s not mine.”

  Several onlookers snickered. Exasperated, Daniel rolled his eyes. There’d be whispers now. By morning, rumor would have it that he’d fathered ten bastards between swallowing his morning coffee and arriving at the depot. That was the way of things in Morrow Creek.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Daniel moved his hands away from the child’s ears. As he did, he became aware of the boy’s gritty, unkempt hair—and the striking disparity between his beefy hands and the child’s small head. Clearly, the boy was too helpless to take care of himself. He needed someone to watch over him. At least for tonight.

  But it could not be Daniel. The notion was preposterous.

  Who would place a child—however stinky, scrawny and troublesome—in the care of a renowned bachelor like him?

  The boy shifted. From someplace within his bedraggled coat, he produced a packet of twine-wrapped papers. He let loose of Daniel’s belt just long enough to offer the bundle.

  “I’m s’posed to give this to you.” His gimlet gaze latched on the stationmaster, who’d lingered to watch. “Only you. I rec’nized you from the picture my mama showed me.”

  Daniel examined the boy’s defiant face. Though dirt-smudged, his features looked familiar. They looked…a little like his own. God help him.

  Scowling, he accepted the papers.

  The crowd pushed nearer. A deeper scowl sent them back again, affording Daniel room—and lantern light—to read. The moment he glimpsed the handwriting on the fine stationery before him, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

  Briefly, he closed his eyes. He’d need strength to confront the revelation awaiting him. Strength, and a goodly measure of whiskey, too. But since the whiskey was back in his old life—the life that included dancing girls, carefree days and no one watching him with hopeful, little-boy eyes—Daniel knew he might as well get on with it.

  A minute later, he put his hand on the child’s shoulder. Ignoring the curious onlookers, he hunched low, so only the boy would hear him.

  “Eli, you did a fine job of this. You should be proud, coming all this way on the train by yourself.”

  Solemnly, Eli met his gaze. “I know. I won this coat playing marbles.”

  After that, the truth was plain. Daniel could harbor no doubts at all.

  Gently, he squeezed Eli’s shoulder. Then he addressed the waiting crowd. “This boy is mine,” he said gruffly.

  New murmurs whisked across the platform. Daniel couldn’t be bothered by them. In truth, he’d never cared for rumors. He couldn’t be troubled even by those concerning him.

  “Come with me, Eli. It’s time we went home.”

  Chapter Two

  Two months later

  Sarah Crabtree’s first proposal of marriage came between geography and literature during her inaugural year of teaching. She blamed it largely on student boredom and vowed to make her lessons more involving. The second came a year and a half later, coupled with a ten-year-old’s favorite frog and a promise to “study ’rithmatic harder.” She pinned her pretty pink gown for that one and vowed to dress more sensibly.

  Neither of those proposals prepared her for the third one, though, which she received on a blustery afternoon in late October. For it, she could find no excuse at all…but she did promise herself to remember it. Because it came from the man she’d been sweet on for years, and it wasn’t likely to be repeated.

  It started out innocently enough, after lessons had ended for the day. She’d just climbed on the schoolhouse ladder to shelve some books when her longtime friend Daniel McCabe strode in, filling the small timber-framed room with the scent of the outdoors, his loud footfalls and his undeniably masculine presence.

  “That’s it,” he announced, stopping beside her ladder in clear exasperation. “I need a wife.”

  I volunteer, she almost blurted.

  No, that would never do. She’d hidden her feelings for too long now. She couldn’t go casting them about willy-nilly at the first opportunity. Clenching her hand on the next book, Sarah made herself affect an airy tone.

  “My, my, Daniel. Those are four words I never thought to hear from you.”

  “Well, you just did. I mean it, too.”

  At the grumble he gave, Sarah chanced a downward glance. Yes, Daniel looked exactly as burly and wonderful as he always did. Also, fairly perturbed. The realization stifled the sigh she’d been about to unloose. Hoping to improve his mood, she tried teasing.

  “You don’t fool me.” She moved down a few rungs, skirts swishing, for the next armload of books. “You’d as soon pluck out every hair on your head as settle down with one woman.”

  “Hmmph. I think I’m doing that anyway. Maybe it’s time to get some help.”

  “Help pulling out your hair?” Sarah grinned. “Grace would volunteer. Her ladies’ aid group is making hand-woven hair switches for convalescents this week.”

  He stared, agape. Hiding her grin with a studious-looking scrutiny of the volumes in her arms, Sarah grabbed the ladder. She climbed higher. Sometimes she thought Daniel truly didn’t understand her sister’s altruistic nature. Many people did not.

  “No. I want to keep what’s left.” Ruefully, he rubbed his scalp.

  She caught the telltale motion and looked around for the one person who could always rile up Daniel McCabe. Little Eli was just visible through the schoolhouse window, hopping outdoors in the autumn-crisped grass.

  Hmm. Perhaps Daniel had reached the end of his renowned patience. A child like Eli could do that to a person. The whole town had been predicting it since Daniel took the boy in.

  He saw the direction of her gaze. Frowned. “Last month, Eli nicked penny candy from Luke’s mercantile. Two days after that, he let loose all of old lady Harrison’s chickens. It took her hours to find them all. A week ago, he got caught pulling the girls’ hair on the way home from school.”

  “An eye for the ladies,” Sarah murmured. “Like father, like son.”

  His sharp-eyed look
stopped her. She didn’t know what he was so irritated about. Although Eli was the very image of Daniel himself, Sarah didn’t really believe all those rumors about Daniel having illegitimately fathered the boy. Daniel claimed Eli was his nephew, and she trusted him. He knew that. But whatever their relationship, the saying fit.

  Daniel was a rogue. Eli was a rapscallion. They were a matched set, an ideal—if troublesome—twosome.

  “Yesterday, he swapped my coffee beans for dirt clods,” Daniel went on, obviously too beleaguered to take exception any further. He strode across the schoolroom, past the desks and the children’s hastily pushed-in benches. “When I took a big slurp of the brew, he laughed his fool head off.”

  “You couldn’t tell the difference?”

  “Afterward, I could. And now.” His glare could have pierced the windowpane, it was so severe. Beyond it, Eli frolicked, unconcerned. “Another tussle at school. This is the third time this month.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Sarah said gently. Eli’s adjustment to life in Morrow Creek had not been easy—and it had not yet been fully accomplished, either. “I’ve been trying to help him. To help you both. You know I have.”

  Daniel inclined his head, silently acknowledging the visits she’d paid to their bachelor house, the books she’d read, the meals she’d delivered courtesy of the Crabtrees’ cook. But he didn’t stop pacing—and he didn’t look much relieved, either.

  “But,” she continued, “I won’t allow any child to disrupt my classroom or my other students. That’s why I had to ask you to come collect Eli yourself today.”

  Daniel fisted his hand, frustration evident in every line of his hardened body. “I can’t keep leaving my blacksmith’s shop like this. I need to earn my living.”

  “You need to be a father to Eli.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not enough.” He wheeled around, his expression newly determined. “What I need is a wife. A good one.”

  That again. He couldn’t be serious. Daniel McCabe was the most well-known scoundrel in the northern part of the territory. Although Sarah hadn’t captured his heart for herself, she knew she didn’t have to worry about another woman accomplishing that miracle, either. Daniel didn’t honestly want a bride. The very idea was outlandish. He was simply overwrought right now because of Eli’s shenanigans.

  She shelved another book, then gave him a complacent wave. “A ‘good’ wife, hmmm? I may be wrong, Daniel, but I don’t think you’re in any position to be dictatorial.”

  He snorted. His raised eyebrows made her smile. Clearly, the notion that he might not always be in command of things came as an astonishment to him.

  “A wife will take care of Eli,” he said, his enthusiasm for taking a bride undimmed. “A wife is what I’ve needed all along. I should have gotten myself one weeks ago.”

  “You can’t order a wife from the Bloomingdale Brothers’ catalog, like a new suit.”

  But Daniel wasn’t listening. He was running his hand through his hair again, thinking. He pulled his palm away and frowned anew.

  “I’ve pulled out more hair than I thought these past weeks. At this rate, I’ll be bald before winter’s out.”

  She glanced downward, bemused. Nothing had changed—Daniel still possessed enough thick, dark hair for a man and a half. Besides, he’d still be handsome to her, even with no hair at all. Sarah wanted to tell him so, to put his mind at ease. But experience had taught her better than that.

  Instead, she settled on, “Bald, eh? All right, then. I guess you’d better hurry up with that wife business.”

  “Hmmph.”

  Pointedly, she peered at the crown of his head. “You wouldn’t want to scare away any potential brides.”

  Amid another surreptitious examination of his locks, he stilled his hand. “They’re that fussy?”

  As a spinster herself, Sarah had no idea. But she knew Daniel didn’t, either. So she nodded knowledgeably. “The savvy ones are. The ones who want a husband with a full head of hair.”

  He furrowed his brow, looking increasingly worried. She felt a little deceitful, carrying on this way. But she simply couldn’t resist. It wasn’t often Daniel was uncertain about anything—especially anything to do with women. Besides, this was all in fun. He’d forget the whole idea by tomorrow.

  “But you don’t want a potential bride who scares easily,” she cautioned. “That wouldn’t do.”

  He nodded, encouraging her. Perhaps foolishly.

  “You need someone with fortitude,” she opined.

  Another nod.

  “Someone who’s organized,” she offered. “Someone who’s efficient and orderly.”

  He made a face. “I’m not opening a mercantile. I’m getting hitched.”

  Noncommittally, she shelved another book. Daniel was taking this far too seriously. Ordinarily, the two of them teased each other often. But this time…a prickle of unease nagged at her. Could Daniel really mean to find himself a wife?

  Before Sarah could contemplate the matter further, a rustle at the schoolhouse doorway alerted her to another presence in the room. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

  “Hello, Emily.”

  The nine-year-old girl murmured a quiet greeting.

  “Your slate is there at your desk, right where you left it. I thought you might be back for it.”

  “Thank you, Miss Crabtree.”

  Emily snatched up her slate and ran out, pigtails flying. Satisfied, Sarah blew a dust mote from her shelf and resumed working.

  Below her, Daniel glanced out the window. Emily—one hand protectively on her hair—was making her way cautiously around Eli. After she’d passed, the boy went back to hopping.

  “How did you know who that was?” Daniel asked. “You didn’t even turn around.”

  She shrugged. “This is my job. Just like your new mercantile will be your job. Yours and your organized new bride’s.”

  He did not take the bait. He only went on discussing his impending marriage…as though it might actually take place.

  “All I need is a woman who’s amenable,” Daniel said, his usual certainty firmly in place. “And knowledgeable about children. That should be easy enough to find.”

  Sarah rammed in another volume. She’d had just about enough. A jest was a jest, but this… Daniel was beginning to sound downright resolute about finding a wife. Even worse, he’d already rejected her as a candidate! No matter that he didn’t know it yet. Those wifely qualities she’d suggested to him—bravery, fortitude and keen skills in the areas of organization, efficiency and order? They happened to be some of her personal best. He’d dismissed them out of hand.

  A woman who’s amenable. And knowledgeable about children.

  Hmmph. She possessed plenty of amenability. And who could be more knowledgeable about children than a schoolmarm?

  It wasn’t that she wanted to make herself a potential candidate. Not exactly. Not for an arrangement like this. Sarah wanted a love match. She wanted Daniel. She’d already made up her mind to wait until she could have both. This new scheme of his was trying her patience in the extreme, though.

  Experimentally, she plastered an amenable simper on her face. She glanced down to gauge its effect.

  Daniel looked oblivious. He’d crossed his arms over his broad chest and was studying the pine plank floorboards.

  “She should be passing fair to look at, too,” he said decisively, adding another item to the list of his potential wife’s qualifications. “That wouldn’t hurt.”

  His anticipatory chuckle got her dander up. Sarah shoved in the next book. There were any number of women who were “passing fair to look at” in Morrow Creek. Not one of them was good enough for Daniel. Or Eli, for that matter.

  She’d obviously have to do something about this. Scuttling her plans to give Daniel time to realize the obvious—that they were meant for each other—Sarah set her expression in a dubious frown. The amenable simper hadn’t felt a natural fit, anyway. />
  “Having a wife might help,” she agreed as she put away a book of poetry. “But on the other hand…”

  At her hesitation, Daniel squinted upward impatiently. Just as she’d known he would.

  “Out with it, Sarah. ‘On the other hand,’ what?”

  “On the other hand, planning a wedding can require an awful lot of time. Time you don’t have, as you pointed out yourself.”

  “Fine. I’ll let my bride plan the wedding.”

  Oh, that would be lovely! Seduced by the very thought, Sarah let her imagination run unchecked. Visions of a fairy-tale wedding swirled in her head—a wedding between her and Daniel. Her imagination dressed her in her finest gown and Daniel in a fancy suit. Eli carried flowers. The whole of Morrow Creek gathered for a celebration fit to rival even her sister Molly’s grandiose marriage to Marcus Copeland last month.

  She would serve spice cake from her sister’s bakery, Sarah determined, and memorize all her vows….

  “Because I don’t have time to waste,” Daniel said, interrupting her reverie. “Eli needs a woman’s influence. Now.”

  Her daydream popped like so many soapsuds. But perhaps there was still a way to salvage this situation.

  “Are you sure there’s not more to it than that?” Sarah glanced downward. Her heart squeezed painfully at the sight of him. “Maybe there’s another reason you want a wife.”

  Like love. Longing. An overly delayed realization that your ideal partner has been here all along, alphabetizing dusty tomes about literature and history.

  He scoffed. She wanted to kick herself for voicing the question at all. Aggravated, Sarah shelved the next book. She often forgot herself around Daniel. They’d been friends for so long.

  Her family always said that her tendency to ignore the obvious—usually in favor of some dreamy notions of her own—would get her in trouble someday. Dangling her lovelorn hopes in front of a confirmed bachelor like Daniel McCabe most definitely counted as trouble.

  Well. She’d simply stop doing that, then. Easy as that.