Chapter 17
The sun had just begun to sink behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the ranch, as Robert rode in alone. Enoch’s chest tightened as he watched from the barn doorway where he, James, and Thomas were still working.
No Mrs. Wang.
He studied his brother’s face as he reined in his horse in front of Enoch. “She wasn’t ready to come yet?” Maybe the birth had taken longer than usual, and Mrs. Wang felt the need to stay another day until the mother was up on her feet.
Robert shook his head, then dismounted. “There was trouble in the birthing. Mary’s not able to get up much, and the babe’s small, not eating well yet.
” He turned to face Enoch, and the weariness lining his eyes spoke of the journey.
“Mrs. Wang said she’ll likely need to stay with them another week at least.”
A week.
Enoch exhaled slowly, measuring his response. Another week without Mrs. Wang’s steady presence meant another week with Mandie handling the household alone. She was more than capable. He had no doubt about that. But she needed rest.
And he had a feeling she’d appreciate having another woman to talk through her condition with.
Especially someone experienced in helping with births like Mrs. Wang.
For some reason, God had never seen fit to give the Wangs their own children, but she’d assisted with at least a dozen birthings through the years, including Robert’s and Thomas’s deliveries, if he remembered right.
A week.
He’d have to do his best to fill in the gap with Mandie, though he was a poor second choice to their wonderful housekeeper.
He eyed his brother again. “What about a telegram?” News from her parents would surely cheer Mandie’s spirits.
Robert shook his head again, this time with a grimace. “Nothing. I did get the wood ordered though.”
Enoch’s jaw tightened. He was still moving slowly from the burns. And then on top of it, no Mrs. Wang and no word from Mandie’s parents. The Lord certainly wasn’t making things easy.
“How’s she been?” Robert lowered his voice as he glanced toward the house.
“Managing.” Enoch turned to walk beside his brother and the mount into the barn. “Better than managing, truth be told. You wouldn’t know she wasn’t raised to this life.”
Robert’s gaze turned to scan the interior of the barn where Thomas and James fitted one of the final poles in the ground beside the far wall. “You boys got a lot done today.”
“Enoch’s a hard taskmaster.” Thomas kept his focus on the pole he held. “Didn’t even let us stop for a nap.”
Enoch shook his head. “There’s only one more to set after that one.
” He eyed Robert. “Think you could help while I see if Mandie needs any help with the food? I don’t want her overdoing.
” He should have gone in a half hour ago to check on her, but it took three of them to raise one of these tree trunks and secure it to the beams at the top.
Robert nodded and turned to unfasten the saddle from his mount. “Go on.”
Enoch strode to the house, keeping himself to a walk, though part of him wanted to sprint. When he opened the door, the smell of something savory greeted him—a rich, hearty aroma that made his stomach growl in anticipation. He’d not realized how hungry he was.
He found Mandie at the stove, her back to him, hair pinned up with a few tendrils escaping to curl against her neck.
The sight of her there, stirring the pot, struck him with an odd feeling of rightness that tightened his chest. As much as he needed her to stay, to agree to be his wife for the sake of the duchy, she stirred too much inside him.
He couldn’t let all these feelings come alive. Couldn’t let his heart get attached. But he couldn’t turn her out. Where else could she go? Did she have another choice? Did he?
He cleared his throat to announce his presence as he stepped into the kitchen. “Smells good.”
She startled slightly, turning to face him. “I didn’t hear you come in.” A smile curved her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m trying to make a stew.”
“I think you mastered it.” He moved closer, fighting the urge to reach out and brush back a tendril of damp hair that had wrapped nearly to her chin. “Robert’s here.”
Her eyes widened with hope. “And Mrs. Wang?”
He shook his head. “She needs to stay another week with the family.” Enoch watched the hope fade from Mandie’s eyes, replaced by something that looked like resignation. “The mother’s having trouble recovering, and the baby isn’t eating well.”
“Oh.” Mandie turned back to the stew, giving it another stir. “Of course she must stay. They need her more than we do.”
But he could see the slight slump of her shoulders, the way her hands tightened on the wooden spoon. He stepped closer, though careful to keep a little distance.
“And…was there any word from my parents?” Her question came softly, her back still to him.
Enoch hesitated. If only he had better news. “I’m afraid not. Robert did check.”
Her shoulders tensed, then relaxed with deliberate control. “I see. They’re likely just… busy.”
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the bubbling of the stew and the crackle of the fire.
He took another step closer. “How can I help with the food?”
“It’s nearly ready.” She glanced up at him. “I hope you’re not getting tired of biscuits. There’s not any other kind of bread, and I didn’t know what else…” A flash of something like worry—or maybe even panic—lit her gaze, then disappeared as she turned back to the pot.
Realization slipped through him. She may not know how to make bread or biscuits. He’d not thought about the fact that Mrs. Wang had all her recipes stored in the rich recesses of her mind. Mandie likely knew little more about cooking than him. Less even, for had she ever been without a paid cook?
He kept his voice gentle. “Mrs. Wang’s biscuits are good enough to eat every meal for a week.
I don’t know how she makes them, and I doubt she has the recipe written down anywhere.
I do know how to make her skillet cornbread though.
I used to help her every so often, and that one was easy enough for me to handle on my own. I can show you whenever you like.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at him, gratitude flickering across her features. “Maybe tomorrow morning?”
They must be almost out of biscuits then. He nodded and sent a smile. “Perfect. That’d go nice with ham. We can start beans soaking tonight so they can cook tomorrow for the evening meal. Beans and cornbread is James’s favorite meal.”
Relief flooded her expression. “I’d appreciate that. I’d hate to disappoint everyone.”
“You haven’t disappointed anyone.” So very much the opposite. “You’ve been remarkable.”
She ducked her head at the compliment, and something warm flickered in his chest. He tamped it down. His job was to protect her, not fall for her.
He moved to the cupboard, pulling down plates and cutlery. “I’ll set the table.” Best he keep busy.
By the time his brothers came in from the barn and washed, Mandie had ladled stew into all the bowls and set them out on the table. She’d also positioned flowers in the middle, though he had no idea when she’d gathered them.
The entire scene looked…different. Better. She might not know all the frontier cooking skills, but she brought refinement to their table.
Once his brothers settled and James spoke the blessing, his brothers filled the silence with their usual conversation. Thomas and James squabbled about who’d felled the most trees, then Robert shared news from town. Not much new since he’d gone to take the telegram two days before.
Enoch watched Mandie throughout the meal, and she appeared to relax as conversation flowed around her, though her eyes still held that shadow of worry.
After the dishes were cleared and washed—he and his brothers did that part, despite Mandie’s protests—Thomas and James set up the chessboard as they did most evenings, while Robert settled into his favorite chair with a dog-eared book.
Enoch attempted to do the same with his Bible, though he kept an eye on Mandie as she sank onto one of the upholstered chairs.
The familiar rhythm of their evening routine settled over the house, but Mandie seemed to hover at its edges, not quite finding her place.
“Care to join us for a game?” Thomas gestured to the chess pieces.
“Oh, I...” Mandie hesitated. “I’ve never really played chess.”
“I could teach you.” Thomas flashed one of his smiles that always won Mrs. Wang over. “It’s not as complicated as it looks.”
That charm didn’t work as well on Mandie though. “Thank you, but perhaps another time.” She folded her hands in her lap, her gaze drifting toward the window where darkness was gathering.
Enoch recognized that restless look. He felt it himself sometimes when the walls of the house pressed in too close, when his thoughts grew too loud.
He set his Bible on the side table and stood. “I need to check on the mare.” He kept his voice casual as he looked to Mandie. “Would you like to come along? Might be nice to get outside when it’s cooler.”
Relief flickered across her face. “I’d like that.”
He grabbed a lantern from near the door, lit it from the one on the corner table, then handed Mandie her shawl from the peg. “You might need this. The evenings can get chilly when we’re nearing autumn.”
The soft wool settled over her shoulders as she wrapped it around herself. She looked so at home in that moment, preparing to walk with him under the starlight.
He swallowed and turned to open the door, allowing her to pass first.
The evening had cooled considerably, the mountain air crisp against his skin as they crossed the yard toward the stable. Stars were beginning to prick the darkening sky, and a sliver of moon hung above the mountains.
Beside him, Mandie drew a deep breath, her shoulders lowering as tension visibly drained from her frame. “It’s beautiful here.” Her voice came out soft, almost reverent. “So vast.”
“Different from Savannah, I imagine.”
“Very.” She glanced at him. “Though both have their own kind of beauty.”
The lantern light caught the angles of her face, softening them. She was certainly the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, but he was doing his best to ignore that fact.
Forcing his focus ahead, he held the barn door open for her, and the familiar smells of hay and horses greeted them as they entered. At least most of the smoky scent was gone now.
“She’s here at the front.” He motioned toward the mare in the first stall, and Mandie moved that direction. “This is Willow.”
Willow nickered as they approached, stretching her neck over the stall door. Her coat glistened. Was that sweat?
He reached to run his hand down the mare’s neck. Not sweat, just her thin summer coat in the lantern light. He’d been watching for days now for any sign of early labor—pacing, sweating, nipping at her flanks. So far, only a bit of leaking milk showed that her time was imminent.
Mandie stroked the mare’s jaw and muzzle, clearly comfortable with horses. “She’s lovely.”
Willow nudged Mandie’s palm, and her white teeth flashed in a smile—the first he’d seen from her all evening. Something in his chest eased at the sight.
“Hello, beautiful girl,” she murmured, stroking the mare with those long, delicate fingers. “Are you going to be a mother soon?”
Enoch tore his gaze away from the pair and slipped into the stall, then moved down the mare’s side to check her flanks and udder. More dried milk on her hind legs. Her sides weren’t as rounded either, which meant the baby had moved into the birth canal.
“When will her foal come?”
He stepped back to study the mare as a whole. “Tonight mayhap. Tomorrow night at the latest.”
Mandie stroked the mare’s neck. “Will she need help?”
“Most times they don’t.” Enoch moved close again to run a hand down Willow’s sleek shoulder. “But sometimes there’s trouble. I usually sleep out here when they’re this close.”
Which brought his dilemma into sharp focus. Normally, he’d bed down in the straw nearby so he would hear when the mare started to get restless.
But with Mandie in the house, he hesitated. What if she woke in the night and needed something? Or cried out with nightmares stirred by her recent memories? He knew well enough how trauma could send dark dreams slithering through the night.
“You don’t have to stay out here all night.” Mandie stroked Willow’s jaw in a steady rhythm. “I’d be happy to take a turn watching her.”
Mandie sleep in the barn? Lose sleep from waking to check on the mare? Not a chance.
But as he studied Mandie’s face in the lantern light. The softness there was genuine, not the polite mask she sometimes wore around the house. Here with the animals, she seemed more at ease.
“I appreciate the offer.” He kept his voice low to avoid startling the mare. “But I couldn’t ask that of you.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” Her eyes met his with that determination he’d half-learned to expect by now.
He held in a sigh. He’d not yet successfully managed to stop her when she took on this expression.
Perhaps having a task, something to focus on beyond her own troubles, would help her. He could cling to that thought, for he didn’t seem to have another choice.
He motioned for them to step out of the stall and fastened the latch behind them.
Then he led her to the stall next to Willow’s.
“I’ve brought in blankets, and I’ll already have a lantern lit.
The cracks between boards are wide enough you can easily see her if she starts to pace or sounds like she’s in pain. ”
She nodded. “And you’ll wake me up around two o’clock?” She eyed him, probably realizing he might try to keep from committing.
This time, he did let his sigh come. “If you’re certain. And if she hasn’t already foaled.”
Mandie straightened. “If the baby comes before, please wake me. I’d so love to see the birth.”
The hope glimmering in her eyes, excitement even, nearly tugged a smile from him. But he responded with the same begrudging answer. “If you’re certain.”
Yet as they turned back toward the house, he couldn’t keep the smile in. This woman with all her genteel ways and city raising just might learn to fit in this mountain country after all.