Falling for the Rancher Father

He dropped the reins and raced to Allie to scoop her into his arms. He brushed his hand across her face, swept her hair from her forehead. Was she warmer than she should be? “Come along,” he said to Ladd, and strode toward the cabin. He put Allie on a chair. “Stay here.” He turned to Ladd. “You stay with her.” He returned outdoors.

Mercy had dismounted and led her horse toward him.

He strode toward her. His insides churned and his fists clenched at his sides. “Do you have no concern for my children? Are you interested only in an audience for your riding?” He sucked in air to refill his lungs.

She opened her mouth.

Before she could get a word out, he held his hand toward her, silencing her.

“Did you not see how excited Allie was? Did you not notice her bright cheeks?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you could be so careless. I simply can’t allow you near my children.”

She tilted her head and gave him a hard look.

“Have it your way,” she said, her voice hard as rock. “I’m tired of explaining myself. Do you mind if I get my things?” She stalked past him without waiting for his answer.

He followed her and saw the children, wide-eyed and stiff.

Mercy knelt before them, caught their chins and pulled them to face her.

Allie, lips trembling, said, “You can’t go.”

Ladd gave his father a burning look, then shifted his attention to Mercy. “I like you here.”

“I must go. Be good.” She kissed them both on the forehead, grabbed her sack and jacket then strode from the house. She swung into her saddle and reined about. At the edge of the clearing she had the horse rear on his back legs. “Goodbye, Mr. Borgard.”

This afternoon he’d been Abel, and now Mr. Borgard. Alone again. Though why he thought it had ever changed defied explanation.

He watched until she rode out of sight before he returned to the cabin and the two children watching him with wide eyes and stubborn mouths.

“What do you want for supper?”

Tears welled up in Allie’s eyes. “Mercy said she’d make us vegetable soup. But now—” Her voice quivered. “You chased her away.”

Ladd clattered to his feet. “She wasn’t doing nothin’ wrong. You’re mad just ’cause she likes to do fun stuff.” He glowered at Abel.

Abel sighed. “You both know how careful Allie has to be. Do you want her sick again?” He directed his question to Ladd.

The boy’s anger faltered as he considered his sister. He shook his head, then faced Abel squarely. “We were only watching.”

Abel didn’t intend to argue with his son. “I have to do what I think is best.”

“Mama said you forgot how to have fun. She was right.”

Abel ignored the boy’s comment. Better to let them blame him than to realize the truth that Ruby cared more about her fun than her children. “Who wants bannock and beans?”

“I want vegetable soup.” Allie crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

Abel sighed. “So bannock and beans it is.”

The evening did not get better and he was happy when the time came to tuck them in. They still refused to forgive him despite the fact he’d done nothing that required forgiveness.

And then he faced the lonely evening. Only then did he remember he had meant to warn Mercy of the man in the woods. He slipped outside and closed the door behind him. Had she gotten back safely? He strained to listen for any unusual noise in the woods. When he heard only coyotes howling and night birds calling he told himself he was being silly. Of course she’d gotten back safely. Surely someone would let him know otherwise.

He returned inside and prepared for bed but, despite his weariness, sleep did not come easily. How was he going to get a bigger cabin built and firewood brought in?

Still, hadn’t he planned to manage on his own when he moved here? Really nothing had changed.

Only his wish that things could be different. But even that wasn’t new. He’d wanted something more all his life. When he was sixteen he’d thought he’d find it in abandoning the principles his parents had taught him. When he married Ruby, he thought he’d find it with her. After the twins were born, he thought he’d find it in being a father and returning to his faith in God.

And yet... He dismissed the errant thought.

It was in obeying God and living a careful life and looking after the twins that he would find what he wanted.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was that Mercy had been glorious, all fire and flash. He meant to argue to the contrary but instead fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

His smile turned upside down the next day as he contemplated his work. The sky hung heavy with clouds threatening rain and making it impossible to consider taking the twins with him to the woods. That meant he must stay close to the cabin. Right after breakfast he went to the logs he had dragged in—the ones meant for firewood—and cut and stacked a supply.

The children stayed inside where they would be warm and dry. He returned to the cabin after a couple of hours to check on them and get a drink.

As he stepped through the door they both gave him accusing looks.

“There’s nothing to do,” Ladd said in his most disgruntled voice.

Allie nodded. “If Mercy was here she’d play games.”

“Or tell good stories,” Ladd added, with heavy emphasis on the word good, as if to say her stories were much better than any Abel had read or told.

He gave them both considered study before he said, “Or do something wild and woolly like this was part of Mr. Robert’s Circus Side Show.” He named a traveling circus.

Allie’s eyes gleamed and pink filled her cheeks. “That was the best of all.”

The mere mention of it overexcited his daughter. “It’s not good for you.” He downed a dipper of water and returned to the pile of wood. He wasn’t arguing with a pair of disappointed nine-year-olds. They didn’t know what was good for them. Even sixteen-year-olds couldn’t know. Wasn’t he proof of that?

At the end of the day, the twins ate their meals in accusing silence and went to bed without being told. Ladd reached over the edge of the cot and held Allie’s hand.

Their displeasure with Abel festered. But what choice did he have? He sat alone after they’d fallen asleep and faced his quandary. Without help, he would have to abandon plans to build a bigger cabin. They could spend the winter in this one just fine, if he had enough firewood to ward off the cold. On nicer days he could take the children to the woods with him, but how many nice days could he count on? As if to answer his question, the wind moaned through the treetops. God in heaven, I’m counting on You to help me. Maybe even send—he didn’t finish the request. Send someone to help. Mercy certainly wasn’t an answer to prayer.

He woke slowly the next morning. His eyelids didn’t want to face the day. His limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. But lying abed would not solve his problems.

He sighed and rolled over. The bed beside him was empty. He patted both sides to make sure. His eyelids jerked open. Where was Ladd? In the weak light Allie looked at him from her trundle bed, eyes wide and watchful.

He scanned the cabin. Ladd wasn’t there. The small quarters offered no hiding place, but he sat up and looked about again to make sure he hadn’t missed the boy.

“Where’s Ladd?” he asked Allie.

“Gone.”

“Gone?” Any remnant of sleep vanished as his blood raced through his veins. He grabbed his trousers and pulled them on under privacy of the covers. “Where?”

“To get Mercy. We want her to look after us. ’Sides, you need her here so you can get logs.” She sat in the middle of her bed and watched him as calm as could be while his arms turned leaden and he couldn’t seem to get them into the sleeves of his shirt.

“Mercy? She’s six miles away. When did he leave?” He peered out the window. The sun had not yet risen but cold gray light filled the clearing. Had his son ventured out in the dark? Was he lost? What about that whiskered man?

He pulled on his jacket and grabbed his rifle. But at the door he stopped. He couldn’t leave Allie here alone and wouldn’t take her out in the damp cold.

His lungs so tight he could hardly force in air, he faced the door. All he could do for the moment was pray. Oh, God, keep my boy safe. As soon as the sun drove back the chill, he would bundle Allie to her teeth and take her with him to find Ladd.

* * *

Mercy tiptoed from her room. If Abel didn’t want her help with the children, that was fine. It gave her more time to practice. She wanted to be able to twirl a big enough circle with her rope that she could swing it up and down over both herself and Nugget. She’d tried the day before yesterday. That’s when Abel had shown up all glower and snort. He didn’t bother to take into account that the children were content to sit quietly as they watched her. Nope. He simply ordered her off the place.

She missed the children. But she surely wouldn’t miss dealing with a man like Abel any more than she’d miss stabbing herself in the eye with a hot needle.

Carrying her boots so as not to disturb Linette and Grady, who were still miserable with their colds, she glided down the hall and creaked open the door. She glanced back at the stairs to make sure she hadn’t wakened them and slipped through the opening.

She turned and screamed as someone stood on the step before her. Heart in her mouth, she managed to croak out a greeting. “Ladd, you gave me a fright.” She looked past him as she pulled on her boots, expecting to see Abel and Allie. “Where’s your papa?”

Ladd ducked his head. “He was sleeping when I left.”

Mercy heard the words but they made no sense. “Left where?”

“Home.”

Surely he didn’t mean— “You mean the cabin?”

“Uh-huh. I promised Allie I would come and get you.” He grabbed her hand. “You have to come. Please. It was so boring without you. Allie even cried a little.”

She stared at the boy. “Does your papa know where you are?”

“Allie said she’d tell him.”

“But it’s barely light. How did you get here?”

“I followed the trail, but it was hard to see.” He glanced beyond her. “Someone helped me.”

Someone? So far as she knew the men were all on the roundup and the women tucked safely in their beds. Except for that whiskered man she’d seen. “What did this someone look like?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t see him. He carried me and left me there.” Ladd pointed toward the barn. “I might have got lost if he didn’t help me. Actually, I think it was God helping.”

None of what the boy said made sense. Except one thing. His father didn’t know where he was. Or if he was safe.

“You must be hungry. Come in.” She opened the door and herded him to the kitchen, where she sliced a thick slab of bread and spread syrup on it.

Linette came into the room as he ate. Mercy drew her into the hall and explained Ladd’s presence. “I have to get him back as soon as possible. Abel will be frantic with worry. His children mean more to him than anything in the world.”

“You go. And don’t let the man chase you away again. He needs your help even if he won’t admit it.”

“And he won’t.” But she couldn’t let her annoyance at his rude dismissal matter at the moment. She returned to Ladd’s side. “While you finish eating I’m going to saddle Nugget.”

He nodded. “Be sure to bring some books and maybe cookies.”

She chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Linette followed her down the hall. “I’ll keep an eye on him until you return.”

“Thanks.” She trotted down the hill and saddled Nugget then rode him back to the house. Ladd came out and she swung him up behind her.

They rode down the trail toward the little cabin. Every one of Mercy’s senses was alert for any strangers in the woods, although she saw nothing out of the ordinary. As they neared the cabin, Abel rushed to their side. He swung Ladd down and hugged him, remaining so close to Mercy’s side she couldn’t dismount.

He put Ladd on his feet, then reached up and lifted Mercy down. Even though she didn’t need his assistance, she saw no point in arguing with the distraught man.

He didn’t release her when her feet hit the ground but hugged her equally hard as he’d hugged Ladd. Then he held her at arm’s length.

“Thank you.” His voice was deep with emotion.

They studied each other. She couldn’t say what he thought or felt except for the way his eyes darkened, which could indicate regret or any of a dozen things.

But his firm hands on her shoulders, the unexpected solid comfort of his chest and the warmth of his breath on her cheeks as he thanked her cut a wide swath through invisible barriers she’d been unaware existed. Something made her want to return to his embrace. Strangely, she felt safe in his arms. How ridiculous! She hadn’t ever needed or wanted or received such foolish comfort. Her parents had never offered it. But a little voice from her depths pleaded for more of it.

Whoa...he wasn’t offering it intentionally. He merely was grateful that she’d returned his son.

She stepped back out of his reach. “He’s fine.”

“Ladd,” Abel said. “Go see your sister. She worried.” He waited until the door closed behind the boy. “Where did you find him?”

“On my doorstep.”

“He made it all the way to the ranch?”

She nodded, watching the emotions on his face change from worry to disbelief. “How is that possible? It was dark and a fair hike for a child.”

“He said a man picked him up and carried him.”

Worry wrinkled his brow. “I’ve seen someone in the woods. A short, stocky man. I meant to warn you about him.”

“I’ve seen someone, too. A man with lots of whiskers.”

“Sounds like it could be the same person.” Abel scrubbed a hand over his hair, tangling it.

If she wasn’t so concerned and confused at both his actions and her reactions she might have chuckled at how he messed his hair.

“I wonder who he is and what he wants,” Abel said.

“I don’t know, though I’m certain I’ve seen him somewhere before. I just can’t place where or when.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“I did. I know I should recognize him.”

“Would you have seen his likeness on a wanted poster?”

She considered the question. “I don’t know. I wish I could place him.” She shrugged. “But if it was he who helped Ladd we can be grateful he didn’t harm him instead.”

Abel shuddered. “I don’t like it.” He messed his hair again and then, as if realizing what he’d done, he smoothed it. “The man could be crazy.”

She’d momentarily shared the same thought but immediately dismissed it. A person should be judged on evidence, not on suspicion or caution. “Or maybe he likes living in the woods. Or for all we know, he has a cabin of his own.”

“Wouldn’t Eddie know if that is so?”

She gave silence assent.

“Has he ever mentioned this man?”

She shook her head.

“Then we’ll have to be cautious and on guard.”

We? When had they become we?

“Anyway. Thank you for bringing him home safely.”

“You’re welcome.”

He smiled.

She knew her eyes widened but she couldn’t help herself. His smile transformed his features and made him look...well, nice.

“Please come in.”

“My horse...”

“I’ll tend to him later.”

She let herself be ushered to the door five steps away, let him reach around her and hold it open for her to precede him.

“Did you ask her?” Allie demanded.

Mercy knew what Allie wanted, but Abel hadn’t asked.

He took her coat as she slipped her arms out. He hung it next to his and went to the stove. “Have you had breakfast?”

“No.” Ladd had interrupted her plans for the day. Not that she minded.

“Then join us. We haven’t eaten yet.”

“Thank you.”

“But first I have a son to deal with.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Ladd to his knee to face him. “I’m happy you’re safe, but what you did was foolish and against the rules.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Haven’t I told you that there is a price to pay for foolish and sinful choices?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“There is no escaping. The Bible says, ‘Be sure your sin will find you out and whatsoever a man soweth he shall reap.’ I simply want to save you the pain and sorrow of reaping a bad harvest. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Papa.” Ladd spoke softly, his head bowed.

“You know I must punish you.”

“I know.”

Mercy wondered what form of punishment Abel had in mind. She’d witnessed how rigid he was about rules. Would he mete out unmerciful judgment?

“After breakfast, you will clean up the kitchen and do the dishes by yourself, and while you’re doing it I want you to consider why I forbid you to go out on your own. You could have been hurt or lost.”

“God sent a man to help me.”

Mercy and Abel exchanged a look. His was full of concern and worry. For her part, she wondered how he’d deal with this.

“Son, like I said, I’m glad you’re safe and sound. Let’s leave it at that.” He patted Ladd on the back and returned to the stove.

“Do you drink coffee?” he asked Mercy, then realized she still stood. “Please, have a seat.”

She sat on one of the chairs. Allie hung over the back, her face so close to Mercy’s she breathed in the sweet scent of her skin. “I like coffee fine,” she answered.

He filled a new-looking coffeepot with water, ground some beans and tossed the ground coffee into the pot. In a few minutes he poured her a cupful.

She cradled her hands about the cup.

He sipped his coffee as he turned his attention back to the pot of porridge he cooked. He handed bowls to Ladd. “Set the table, please.”

Mercy kept her attention on her cup as she tried to ignore his presence. It was impossible. He was so big in such a small space. And so vital. He touched Allie’s head, brushed Ladd’s shoulder, smiled at them.

Her mouth went dry. She gulped coffee but the dryness remained.

The children were fortunate to know such affection and approval from their father. What had happened to their mother, she wondered?

He filled bowls, set them on the table and sat down. “Let’s thank God for the food.” The children bowed their heads and Abel said a prayer of thanksgiving, not only for the food but for the safety of his son.

Allie and Ladd sent silent signals to each other across the table. They ducked their heads to eat their breakfast, then looked steadfastly at their father.

Abel cleaned his bowl and drained his coffee cup. “Mercy—you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”

“I answer best to it. After all, it’s my name.” She knew he meant to ask her permission to use her Christian name, but some perverse imp prompted her to answer indirectly.

His smile was fleeting. “Fine. Mercy, I find myself in a quandary.”

She offered him no assistance. He had gotten himself into this quandary without her help. He’d have to get out the same way.

“I need to get wood and cut logs. I can’t leave the children to do it. And they are quite insistent that they want you to stay with them. Will you?”

Although she understood what he wanted, he’d been much more direct about telling her to leave. He could be equally direct about asking her to come back. “Will I what?”

His eyes narrowed. He’d correctly read her resistance.

Just as she understood that he swallowed his pride to ask her straight out. “Will you please stay with the children so I can get at my work?”

She laughed, with relief at being welcomed back and also with a touch of victory that he’d had to lessen his rigid stand. “Why, I’d be pleased to.”

The children grinned. Ladd immediately set to work cleaning the table and washing dishes.

Abel pushed back from the table. “Thank you.” He wrapped slices of bread and syrup in brown paper, snagged a can of beans and then grabbed his coat and hat. “I’ll be on my way.” He hugged the children and hurried out.

She stared at the door for a heartbeat after he left. Two and then a third. His thanks had been perfunctory. His leaving hasty. And why not? He had to prepare for winter. Had to provide the children’s needs.

No reason in the world to wish he could linger a bit and talk to her. No reason at all.

In fact, it was a relief to have him gone. He was too big. He crowded the tiny room and made her uncomfortable. Whew. She released the air from her tight lungs. Now she could breathe easy without concerning herself about his reaction to what she said and did.

She rubbed her arms, remembering his solid chest and warm hands.

Why had his hug felt so good? Like it filled up an empty spot in her heart. She shook her head. Where had such foolishness come from?

Chapter Five

Abel led Sam in the general direction he planned to go but, before he ventured farther, he left the horse waiting as he scouted around the cabin. If some crazy man hung about in the vicinity he wanted to know about it. Heavy gray clouds hung low in the sky. Dampness filled the air. At least the twins would be safe and dry in Mercy’s care.

Mercy! The woman seemed destined to fill his mind with confusion.

Shoot! He was crazier than any wild man. He’d hugged Mercy. Only because he was so all-fired relieved to see Ladd safe and sound. Or at least that’s the excuse he gave himself and initially it had driven his actions. But he’d felt a whole lot more than relief as soon as his arms closed around her. He’d noted a number of things—how she fit just below his chin, how small yet strong she felt, how her hair filled with the scent of summer flowers and fresh-mowed hay.

Momentarily, without forethought, his arms had tightened around her and then she’d stepped back, no doubt as shocked by his actions as he’d been.

A thorough search around the cabin yielded no evidence of anyone lingering in the area. So Abel returned to Sam and left to find firewood and good logs, though building a bigger cabin before winter seemed a distant possibility.

He worked steadily all day, grateful the rain held off. Shadows filled the hollows and hung around the trees as he returned to the cabin with logs. Rather than unload immediately, he headed for the cabin, driven by far more than concern for the children. All day his thoughts had tortured him with memories of Mercy in his arms. Yet only the day before he’d considered her a menace to his children’s safety.

Likely she still was, and he needed to keep that in mind. A woman interested in pursuing a wild life in a show, a woman who ignored his warnings about involving the children in her activities, a woman who rode like a man and...

He reached the cabin door and paused to listen. Laughter came from inside and he forgot to list the other things against Mercy.

Ducking his head, he stepped inside and ground to a halt. Flour covered half the surfaces in the cabin and if he wasn’t mistaken, dough spatters decorated the surfaces that had been spared the flour dusting. The children wore generous amounts of both and Mercy’s hair had turned gray. When had he ever seen such a mess? Was this her idea of looking after the twins? “What exploded?”

The three looked up, saw his expression and glanced around. Their gaze returned to him, guardedness replacing the laughter.

“We made cookies,” Ladd said, his words solid.

“Mercy helped us.” Allie sounded a little more conciliatory.

Mercy didn’t say anything and her gaze dared him to object.

He swallowed hard, the aroma of cookies from the oven overwhelming his annoyance. “Cookies, huh?”

“Want some?” Allie asked.

“They smell good.” He’d overlook the mess in order to enjoy the cookies. And the company of those who had baked them. Tonight he’d clean the mess. At least he’d be too busy to be bored and lonely.

He sat at the table and tried not to look too surprised at the cookies set before him. One was small and slightly black around the edges, another was the size of a saucer, several were balls and one had been shaped into— He peered more closely at it.