“What?” Jarrod asked.
“Mama said you’d take us to the Specific Ocean. Will ya?”
“Not today.”
“Then when?”
“Can’t say.”
The boy stuck his thumb in his mouth and spoke around it. “When’s Mama gonna get here?”
Jarrod didn’t know what to tell him. Surely he knew his mother was never coming back. Was he old enough to understand?
“How old are you?” he asked Oliver.
The child left his thumb in his mouth and held up his other four fingers. When he turned five, he would have a better use for that thumb, Jarrod thought wryly.
Jarrod knew nothing about bringing up children, and even less about helping them deal with the death of their mother. He knew they were blood relations, even before Abby had pointed out the obvious to him. He knew all about them from Sally’s letters. Lily, thirteen and on the verge of young womanhood. Tom, eleven, staring at him with hostile gray eyes. Katie, six, cute as a button, with her curly blond hair and green eyes. He wondered at the purple circles beneath them. And last was Oliver, only four years old. The dark stain on the front of the boy’s pants told him that the child had not found the necessary in time. He wasn’t old enough to grasp the fact that his mother was never coming back.
Jarrod was having trouble with that one himself. How could he explain it to the little guy?
But the most immediate question was: With a ranch to run, how the hell was he supposed to look after four children?
When the silence continued, Katie started to cry. “Don’t you want us, Uncle Jarrod?”
He felt horrible. When she walked to the edge of the porch, he instinctively opened his arms, pulling her up against him as sobs wracked her tiny body. Her thinness surprised him; she weighed hardly anything.
He awkwardly patted her back. Although he liked
youngsters well enough, he had no experience comforting a small child, or an older one either. She continued to cry, and when she buried her face in his neck, he swallowed hard, twice. The lump in his throat wouldn’t budge. He wasn’t sure if it was her grief or the trusting arms around his neck that moved him. But the fact that she went to him at all felt good.
“Don’t cry,” he said, tightening his hold on her. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
She lifted her head. “You won’t send us away?”
“Oh—” Abby made a small noise somewhere between a gasp and a stifled sob. “Of course he won’t send you away, sweetie. Lily, will you take them in the house and help Oliver change? Supper’s ready. We’ll be in shortly.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, taking Katie from Jarrod. The others followed Lily inside.
As soon as the door closed, Abby rounded on him, eyes flashing. “You
aren’t
going to send them away. Are you, Jarrod?”
“Of course not. But I need some time to get used to this.”
“Unfortunately, you don’t have time. Those children lost their mother a few short weeks ago. They need to know they have someone who will take care of them. You could look a little happier to see them.” Her disbelief, annoyance, and discouragement were evident as her body tensed.
“Now hold on, Abby. It’s not every day a man finds out his only sister has passed on, much less that she left her four kids to him. This is a hell of a shock. Just give me a minute.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” she said softly. “This must be a terrible blow. I can only imagine what it would feel like. If the shoe were on the other foot, and it was my brother, Clint—” She stopped and swallowed. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He nodded and the muscle in his cheek jerked once as he clamped his jaw tight. When he trusted his voice, he asked, “How did she die? Did the kids tell you anything?”
She took a deep breath. “Lily said it was sudden. One
day she was fine, the next she was hurting, and she didn’t eat after that. The pain got worse and she wasted away.”
“Seems you know a lot.”
Abby shrugged. “It’s a long ride from town. They needed to talk to someone.”
“Did Sally have a doctor?”
“They didn’t say anything about one. I’d guess not. Did you notice their clothes, and how thin they are? I don’t think there was much money.”
Jarrod heard the disapproval in her voice and knew she was wondering why his sister’s children were wanting when he had so much. He didn’t know why, but he felt he owed her an explanation.
“Since she left here in ‘seventy-two, my sister wrote me twice a year. Once on my birthday and again at Christmas. I knew about every one of the kids being born. Other than that, all she ever said was that things were fine.”
“You never went to visit her?”
“I’ve got a ranch to run. For God’s sake,” he said defensively, “there are hardly enough hours in the day to do what needs to be done around here as it is. Besides, I never had reason to suspect things weren’t the way she said. Which brings us back to those kids. I don’t know anything about raising children, and I don’t have the time to see that it’s done the way Sally would want.”
“Maybe not, but you’re all they’ve got. And you’re better than nothing.”
“Thanks,” he said wryly.
“You know what I mean. They’re just children, Jarrod,” she said softly, sympathetically. “You’ve lost your sister, but they’ve lost their mother. Think about what they’re going through.”
Jarrod knew she was right. It didn’t sweeten his temper any, but he did his best to tamp his anger down. For the kids’ sake.
He took a deep breath. “Guess I’d best go inside and get acquainted.”
She nodded. “You’ll do fine. Good-bye, Jarrod. Good luck.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back to town.”
He glanced through the oak grove and saw the rays of the setting sun. “You can’t get there before dark. It’s too dangerous to travel at night.”
“It’s a chance I’ll have to take.”
“Why didn’t you wait until morning to deliver the kids, if you couldn’t get out here and back before dark?”
“I thought I could. They’re nervous and upset and needed to be settled as soon as possible. I figured I’d have just enough time. But when we arrived and the house was empty, I just couldn’t leave them here alone.”
“So now that I’m here, you’re going to dump them in my lap and hightail it back?”
“Yeah.”
He took her arm. “I don’t think so. This is the last time you drop something on my doorstep and leave. Besides, what kind of host would I be, not offering you a place to stay for the night? I don’t want to come across what’s left of you when the coyotes get finished. You can leave at first light. Not before.”
Abby felt the strength in the hand gripping her upper arm. He didn’t hurt her, but she couldn’t break his hold without struggling, and probably not even then. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her try.
She met his gaze directly. “Please release me,
Mister
Blackstone.”
Something flickered in his gray eyes, a flash of respect, she thought. Or maybe it was more personal than that, but it was gone before she could tell. She didn’t want to know anyway. She just wanted to go back to Hollister. Jarrod Blackstone made her nervous. He always had. Not because of his intimidating size. He wasn’t the only man several inches over six feet she’d come across. It wasn’t even because he was handsome as sin.
She was uneasy around him because of the fluttery feeling she always got in her stomach when he was nearby. Her palms grew sweaty and her knees weak. A man who could
do that to her was a man to stay away from. Besides, even if Jarrod Blackstone hadn’t made it clear that he had no use for her or any other woman, she had no time for that sort of thing. Knowing his feelings like she did, his insistence that she stay the night came as a surprise.
When he didn’t let her go, she looked at his fingers, then back into his eyes, and lifted a brow.
Amusement flashed across his face as he loosened his grip and dropped his hand.
“Thank you,” she said, resisting the impulse to rub her arm.
Those gray eyes of his, fringed by dark lashes, were piercing, unnerving. It was as if he could tell what she was thinking and found it funny. His jaw was strong, square, with an indentation that made her want to touch it. A high-crowned black hat covered his brown hair, but the collar of his plaid shirt touched long strands that needed trimming. They were wavy, she noticed, and her heart skipped a beat.
“You’re welcome,” he said in a deep voice that caused tingles to skitter up her spine and over her chest. “Now, about staying here for the night. Are you going to argue that some more?”
She wanted to. It annoyed her that she couldn’t. He was right about the danger of traveling at night. It also irritated her that he ordered her to stay, as if she were one of his ranch hands. He seemed accustomed to having his commands obeyed without question. How she would have liked to defy him. But only a fool would travel through that rugged land in the dark, and she was no fool.
“I’d like to—thank you for your invitation.”
“Good.” He started into the house, then turned back to her. “I can see why Gib calls you ‘Firecracker’. And it’s got nothing to do with that red hair.”
“Look, Jarrod, I appreciate your hospitality. But if you think that gives you the right to make fun of me, I’ll just take my chances with the coyotes.”
“That wasn’t a criticism. I was—”
Just then a shriek came from inside the house. Abby turned, but Jarrod was past her in a flash. His boots thumped on the wooden floor as he hurried through the living room. Abby was on his heels as the wailing rose in volume.
In the kitchen, Katie sat on the floor, sobbing. Tom, with his arms crossed over his thin chest, had his back to the pump handle in front of the window. He looked at them with a mixture of guilt and defiance on his face. Oliver and Lily sat in ladder-backed chairs at the oak table, the food on their plates hardly touched. Their eyes were wide as saucers as the adults entered the room.
“What’s going on here?” Jarrod asked, going down on one knee beside the little girl. He picked her up and held her as she struggled to control the crying.
Oliver took his thumb out of his mouth. “Tom socked Katie in the arm and pulled her hair.”
Jarrod looked at his oldest nephew. “Is that true?” When Tom’s only response was a shrug, he asked, “Why did you hit your sister?”
“She’s a baby.”
Jarrod handed the little girl to Abby. “Will you take care of her?”
“Of course. But what—”
He turned back to the boy. “Tom, I’d like to see you in my study.”
Abby felt the child in her arms tense then start to tremble, obviously afraid of what would happen to her brother. What had happened to frighten her so? She had no reason to fear Jarrod. At least not yet. Couldn’t he give Tom a break? They had just met, after all.
“Jarrod, they’re all upset. This hasn’t been easy. Maybe you should—” The words on her lips died at the look he gave her.
“Not five minutes ago you told me these children are my responsibility.”
“That’s true, but—”
“We might as well get a few things straight.” He stared at Tom and said, “Come with me, son.”
The boy straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, trying to appear brave. But in those gray eyes so like his uncle’s, Abby saw that he was only scared and very young. Jarrod took his thin arm in a firm, but gentle grasp. They left the room, and a moment later a door down the hall closed.
“Wha’s Uncle Jarrod gonna do?” Oliver opened his mouth wide enough to be understood around his thumb.
Abby put Katie in her chair at the table and pulled her plate close. “I’m sure he’s just going to have a talk with Tom.”
She hoped that’s all he was planning to do. She had always thought him to be a fair man, but what if he believed that sparing the rod spoiled the child? These children were tired and cranky. For them, the journey had been heartbreaking and long, not to mention uncertain. Granted, Tom had been a bit hostile and standoffish with her. But that was understandable. He’d been through a lot. They’d all been through enough already. Surely Jarrod would take that into account. Wouldn’t he?
Abby nervously hovered over the three other children, then paced to the kitchen doorway to listen. She’d give anything to know what Jarrod was saying to the boy, and almost wished he would shout so that she could hear something. But in the hall, only silence greeted her.
When Lily and the other two were finished eating, they gathered plates and utensils and took them to the dry sink by the window. As she waited for water to heat on the stove, Abby wandered back to the doorway and stood, listening. Still no sound.
“When’s Tom coming back?” Katie wanted to know.
“Your uncle is just talking to him, sweetie.”
“My brother didn’t hurt me that much,” she said. “Was Uncle Jarrod real mad?”
“I’m sure he wasn’t.” She hoped he wasn’t. She bit her lip and glanced at the doorway.
The more time that passed, the more her curiosity was pricked. For a man who claimed to know nothing about children, he apparently had a good deal to say to Tom. If the two
of them didn’t come out of that room soon, Abby figured, she would push her way in. When Katie and Oliver insisted on helping with the dishes, she welcomed the distraction and gave them towels to dry the forks, knives, and spoons.
Finally, she heard the door down the hall open. A few seconds later Tom appeared. The other three children all spoke at once, besieging him with questions. Abby studied him closely. He hadn’t been crying. In fact, he seemed downright cheerful. She was as interested as everyone else about what had taken place.
“What happened?” Katie asked, worry wrinkling her forehead. She seemed to accept some responsibility for what happened.
“Did he wallop you?” Oliver asked.
“Was Uncle Jarrod real mad?” Lily wanted to know.
Abby was near to bursting with curiosity herself. “Tom? Tell us. Say something.”
“If you’ll give me a chance, I will.”
“What did your uncle say? You were in there with him for a long time. He didn’t wallop you, did he?” she asked, repeating Oliver’s question, though she didn’t believe Jarrod would have done so.
“Nah. We just talked.”