Chapter 10
Ben scuffed his boot against the straw-covered dirt as the door flapped shut behind Cora. How had he gotten into such an argument? Demanding she sell half her land to him. Forcing his presence upon her. Refusing to leave. He was here to help, not set up an enemy camp.
He drove his fingers through his hair. Maybe he could have held his tongue a little more if Cora hadn’t suggested she could sell the land to LeBeau. Did she fancy the fellow? How well did she know this arrogant slacker, anyway?
And what was it to him? The medicine must have completely dulled his head for him to beg her to allow him to stay. If he had any brains left, he’d rest up for a few more days and ride out of here. He’d done his duty.
The bay lifted her head and studied him with dark oval eyes and long lashes.
Puffing out his cheeks, Ben grabbed a pitchfork and began mucking out the mare’s stall, digging the long prongs into the soiled straw and tossing it over his shoulder.
Cora didn’t have a right to condemn him. He’d abstained from his medicine for over a month now, the longest he’d ever gone. And it’d cost him. Torture every bit as ravaging as the hunger pains at Andersonville.
Maybe that doctor back in South Carolina knew what he was talking about. Knew Ben’s stomach had been ruined and couldn’t function without the medicine. Ben slapped his hand against the wall. Dust flew. Two harnesses clinked together.
In the back stall, Cora’s horse whinnied. He’d forgotten to give the sorrel water.
He picked up the bucket and glanced out the window at the empty corral.
A sigh rattled through him. It didn’t matter what Cora thought of him.
He’d blown Jeb’s opportunity to escape from Andersonville, ruined his friend’s best chance of returning home.
It was his fault Cora didn’t have her brother here.
She needed help to survive on this ranch, and he wasn’t about to abandon his commitment to some weaseling doctor to pick up the slack.
An hour later, he walked onto Cora’s back porch. A weathered board creaked beneath his weight. A warm south wind rippled the back of his sack coat and hair.
Hat in hand, he knocked.
The latch rattled, and she stepped into the entrance, nose red and eyes puffy.
He winced. He’d never intended to make her cry. His prepared speech fell away.
She folded her arms. “If you’ve come for breakfast, I was about to send Charlie to the stables with your plate.”
A strand of chestnut hair slipped onto her forehead from the loose braid dangling over her shoulder. His finger twitched in response.
The scent of bacon and eggs crept through the doorway. His stomach rumbled.
“I came to apologize. I said some things I didn’t mean back there.” He cleared his throat. “I have no intention of forcing you to sell your land to me. The payment to Coffin was a gift, on behalf of Jeb.”
Her gaze drifted over him. “So if I stop trying to pay you back, will you go home when you get to feeling all the way better?”
He glanced down at his boots. “I’ll stay in town if I need to. Rent a room again from Mamie Sykes. Ride out in the mornings. But I’m staying in the area until we get your ranch fixed up and get you some cattle.” Then what?
She rubbed her hands over her arms. “It’d be a waste of time and money for you to stay in town.”
Exactly what he was thinking. He glanced into her puffy eyes. “But I’d do it if it would help alleviate some of your concerns about me.”
A trace of a smothered squeal squeaked through her teeth. “I know you think I’m a terrible person.” She swung her arms wide, almost clipping him with her fingers. “But I’m not. It’s…it’s my father.”
“Your father?” Ben jerked to full attention.
“Never mind.” She sniffled.
“What does my medicine and helping you with the ranch have to do with your father?”
Her face reddened. “It’s not medicine.” She practically spat out the words.
He reared back. “What is it, then? The doctor in South Caroline prescribed it for me in the hospital when I was in such bad shape I couldn’t even get out of bed.
They didn’t know if I was going to live or die.
The druggist gave it to you. And your Dr. LeBeau was eager to offer me more. ” Why the devil did his voice shake?
“I didn’t know the previous doctor prescribed it. I only know the way you looked at it… The way you reacted to the sight of it… It’s more than medicine to you.”
Heat rose up his neck and flooded his cheeks. “What does your father have to do with me or my medicine?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“I’d rather you did.” He flexed his hands at his sides. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
She lifted her gaze to his. “My father’s need for his whiskey took over his life. Just a different type of bottle.”
He stumbled back a step. She might as well have slapped him. It was as if she’d bored a hole right through him.
“I’m sorry.” She mumbled. “It’s none of my business.”
“You’re right about that.” His words cut sharp as he donned his hat and stomped down the steps.
He was nothing like her father, the man who’d cheated on his wife, the man who hadn’t shown Charlie love, the man who’d left his children with a skeleton of a ranch and no means to maintain it.
Jeb had sent him here for a reason because Jeb hadn’t trusted their father to take care of the family.
Ben was going to show Cora a thing or two.
He muttered under his breath, “In case your memory fails you, Miss Scott, I didn’t grab the bottle and drink it. I threw it across the room.”
His hands clenched as he marched across the yard to the stables. He’d skip breakfast. He had a palisade gate to repair.
Cora swiped her arm over her forehead as she stirred the beans around a ham hock.
At the end of the crane, rice simmered in a kettle.
The wood beneath crackled as muted flames licked the bark.
She’d warned Ben to be home before dark.
Hopefully, the man would listen. Ben hadn’t lived on the frontier long enough to have the dangers ingrained in his brain, as they had been in hers, leaking all the way to her heart.
In the ten days since the confrontation with Ben, he’d fixed the palisade gate, porch, and corral, working himself to exhaustion.
Yet every morning, he’d be up with the rooster’s crow ready to help with the animals and work on the outbuildings and structures.
He only paused when she sent Charlie to bring him his noon meal.
The boy ate with her, but as soon as he finished, he rushed out the door to work at Ben’s side.
For his part, Ben had managed to speak less than a couple dozen words to her, measuring them out in spats of two or three as if they were coins to be hoarded.
A rumble. She stood and listened. A wagon. They were back. She set the spoon down and hurried into the hall and out the front door.
Charlie hopped down from the wagon, grinning from ear to ear. A black-and-white collie puppy squirmed in his arms. “Cora, look what Ben bought me. Ain’t he cute? His name is Jack.”
Was there no end to the decisions this man made without bothering to ask her? First, the trip to town and now this.
The corner of Ben’s mouth twitched upward. “I figured he’d be a good yard dog when he’s grown. Warn us…about intruders and help herd the cattle.”
Us. The word unleased a wave of qualms through her midsection.
Charlie skipped toward her. “He’ll be tough like a bear when he grows up.” He shoved the bundle of fur and wiggles into her arms before she could open her mouth to protest.
Two dark eyes gazed up at her from a black mask. One ear dipped downward, and a pink tongue lolled to the side as the puppy grinned at her. How could she say no?
Charlie patted Jack’s forehead. “Can he sleep in my room? I’ve got an old blanket I could put on the floor.”
“You don’t want to make him too comfy.” Black hat tipped back on his head, Ben lifted a crate from the rear of the wagon. “He’s got to be tough to do his duty.”
“I’m sure a little comfort and companionship won’t hurt him.” Cora gently handed the puppy back to Charlie.
Ben snorted. “That’s been my thoughts on the matter all along.” He stepped past her and stomped his boots on the reed rug before he entered the house.
All along? She didn’t need a lightning bolt to strike her to know his comment had nothing to do with the puppy.
“Ewww.” Charlie laughed and held Jack at arm’s length. A wet circle stained his not-quite-white shirt.
“Set him down.” Cora dusted her hands on her apron and headed for the back of the wagon. “You can wash out your shirt after you carry in a load.”
“I’ll have to train him when to go potty.” Charlie set Jack on a patch of leaves and rubbed his hands on the grass.
The puppy bounded around chasing his tail, then smacked at the ground with his oversized paws to send the leaves flying in the air.
Cora gawked at the wagon bed. A sack of flour, a keg of nails, a bundle of rope, and another crate.
A sack of sugar bulged out the top, next to a bag of coffee beans.
Coffee. She hadn’t had real coffee since 1862.
She’d swallowed boiled water flavored with sassafras leaves, barley, or worse in the years since, but real coffee?
A rare commodity in Texas since the war. How much had Ben spent?
She reached for the crate.
“I’ll handle that.” Ben’s rich, deep tone jarred her, igniting warmth in her chest. His flannel sleeve brushed close to her arm.
“I can do it.” She stumbled over her words as she gazed into hazel orbs with gold speckles. Her cheeks heated, and she glanced away but returned her gaze to his. If he’d used laudanum in town, would it show in his eyes?
His eyebrows quirked upward. “You have a question?”
“No.” She grabbed the nail keg.
“Here. This one is for you.” He switched the keg out for the coffee beans and handed the nails to Charlie. “I’d love a cup.”
She trailed behind him as he carried the crate in. “Coffee’s expensive, you know.”
“I noticed. And not easy to find.” He settled the crate on the kitchen table. “So we’d best limit ourselves to a cup a day, or water down the beans a bit.” He planted both hands on the oak surface, palms down, waiting.
She cradled the sack to her chest and struggled to bite back her objections. He shouldn’t spend so much on them. She’d never be able to pay him back. Obviously, he had no intention of listening. “I…we…shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t stand around when there’s a wagon to unload and coffee to brew?” He cocked his eyebrows and headed out the door before she could manage a rebuttal.
She shuddered. The coffee, the puppy, all the repair work… Ben was weaving his way into their lives. What did he get out of this? How much had Jeb’s friendship meant to him that he’d go to so much trouble to help his kin?
It wasn’t as if Ben was an expert craftsman or rancher.
His first attempt at fixing the palisade gate hadn’t gone well.
The latch struck the plate too high. Undeterred, he’d taken the gate off and repositioned it a second time.
The fact that the work didn’t come easy to him but that he was honing the skills for their sakes sent her stomach into a worse tumble.
Blowing out a breath, she unloaded sugar, baking soda, salt, a couple jars of peaches—
Charlie lumbered in, both arms wrapped around the sack of flour. “Where should I put this?”
“In the corner by the cupboard.” She smiled.
Charlie eased the sack down on the spot. “When I finish unloading, I’m going to find Jack a blanket. There’s one in the barn—”
“Stick with finding something in my scrap basket. Jack doesn’t need a full blanket. He’s got plenty of fur.”
“But, Cora, he’s only a puppy.” Charlie reached into the crate for the string of dried apple slices.
“Ben’s right about not babying him.” She’d sunk low, using Ben’s approval as support.
“Then he might need to come into my bed to keep warm.”
She pointed her finger at him. “No. But in a couple of days, after we get all the use out of the ham hock, I’ll let you give it to Jack.”
“Thank you.” He jumped up and down. “That’ll make his tail wag. And speaking of dinner, can Ben eat with us? I bet he’s like Jack. I don’t think he likes to eat alone.”
She jabbed a hand to her hip. “Did Ben give you that idea?”
Doe-eyed Charlie gazed up at her. “No, he didn’t say a word. But I know what it’s like to not be at the table with everyone else.”
She flinched. Years ago, her father had tried to make Charlie eat separately from them after the boy had first arrived. Her mother hadn’t stood for it. Figurative coals burned atop her head. “Ben can join us for dinner if he wants.”
“He’ll want to.” Charlie grinned, gave her a quick hug, and bounded toward the hallway.
“Wait.” She waved him back.
He pivoted. “Yes?”
She shouldn’t ask, but she did, voice lowered. “Did Ben stop at any other stores other than the mercantile and the livery stable today? Like the druggist?”
“No. Just the blacksmith’s. Only, he paced back and forth a couple of times in the block across from the druggist.”
“But he didn’t go in?”
“No. Was he supposed to? He finally said he had to go to the post office to mail a couple of letters, and I went with him.”
A quick ruff-ruff sounded in the front yard.
Charlie fidgeted. “I’ve got to go check on Jack.”
“Go ahead.” She touched his shoulder and turned back to the kitchen.
Ben had been tempted but hadn’t given in. At least not this time. She hugged herself. What was she doing allowing him to come to dinner? Was she insane? Why had the Lord allowed this man to come into their lives?
What if she and Charlie could make a difference in Ben’s life?
Foolish thought. How many times had her mother clung to that same hope?