answer surprised them into momentary silence, a silence they made up for when, seconds later, yells of excitement erupted from them, causing the high-spirited Titan’s front hooves to dance in the air and his eyes to roll back in fear.
Silas led the boys into the barn, knowing that a talk about their conduct around the stables was in order before he set them on the back of any horse, no matter how docile.
“I’m not sleepy, Mandy, really.” The five-year-old’s argument was accompanied by a yawn, and Mandy only shook her head at her sister’s stubbornness.
“You don’t have to go to sleep, Becca, but you do have to rest,
with
your eyes closed.”
Becca gave in then with lots of sighing and turning from one side to the next. Lying next to her, Mandy was just drowsy enough not to care how much she moved as long as she could rest herself and let her mind drift.
The first place it stopped was Carrie. Poor thing. She was never sick and then to come down with something on the day of Mama’s funeral, well, it was the worst kind of luck. At least Mark Cameron hadn’t expected payment for his services. She would have hated to leave, but there just wasn’t any money so there would have been no choice.
The next face her mind conjured up was that of Ross Beckett. He was far and away the nicest man of her own age she’d ever met. He was nice looking too. He wasn’t as tall as all the Cameron men, but then not many men were. She guessed him to be about six foot, which was a good nine inches over the top of her own head. But it wasn’t his height that made him stand out in her mind, or the sandy brown hair that fell over his forehead when his hat was off. Or even the color of his eyes, such a soft blue.
No, it wasn’t any of those things. It was the way he paid attention to what you were saying. Not just heard but listened, making you feel as though what you were saying, no matter how simple or inane, was the most important thing in the world at that moment.
Mandy had watched him in the short time they talked, before Carrie came out. Especially the way he handled Levi, Clovis, and Becca. He talked to them like adults but his hand was close, even when she stood there, to help…
His hand.
“I held his hand.” Mandy spoke the words aloud. As she remembered his hand closing over hers, Mandy felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, not in embarrassment but something else, something she couldn’t define.
What a comfort it had been, she realized suddenly. Reaching and finding that big, warm hand had been exactly what she needed to get her through that moment at her mother’s grave. She would have to thank him when she saw him again.
If
she saw him again, she amended, even as she hoped she would.
So wrapped up in her thoughts, Mandy had not realized that Becca had finally fallen asleep.
“I really should get up and do something to help Amy.” But Mandy’s eyes were drifting shut; her body had other ideas.
Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was getting her mother’s papers and leaving a note for her pa. She’d have to discuss it with Amy…
Aaron Marks stood at his office window overlooking Baxter’s main street and reread the letter in his hand. He withdrew a match from his pocket to light his cigar. The smoke curled around his head as he once again read the last line. “I’ll be home this summer and it’ll be different this time, I promise.”
He raised both cigar and letter but changed his mind and pulled back short of lighting the paper. Walking to the cabinet where he kept his files, he reached in until he felt the false back. It moved easily under his touch, and the paper disappeared inside.
He scowled at the wall, where music suddenly sprang to life from the bar next door, and clamped the cigar tight in his teeth. The last thing he needed was music when he had to decide what move to make next. The din grew steadily louder, a little too raucous for so early in the day.
He
Silas led the boys into the barn, knowing that a talk about their conduct around the stables was in order before he set them on the back of any horse, no matter how docile.
“I’m not sleepy, Mandy, really.” The five-year-old’s argument was accompanied by a yawn, and Mandy only shook her head at her sister’s stubbornness.
“You don’t have to go to sleep, Becca, but you do have to rest,
with
your eyes closed.”
Becca gave in then with lots of sighing and turning from one side to the next. Lying next to her, Mandy was just drowsy enough not to care how much she moved as long as she could rest herself and let her mind drift.
The first place it stopped was Carrie. Poor thing. She was never sick and then to come down with something on the day of Mama’s funeral, well, it was the worst kind of luck. At least Mark Cameron hadn’t expected payment for his services. She would have hated to leave, but there just wasn’t any money so there would have been no choice.
The next face her mind conjured up was that of Ross Beckett. He was far and away the nicest man of her own age she’d ever met. He was nice looking too. He wasn’t as tall as all the Cameron men, but then not many men were. She guessed him to be about six foot, which was a good nine inches over the top of her own head. But it wasn’t his height that made him stand out in her mind, or the sandy brown hair that fell over his forehead when his hat was off. Or even the color of his eyes, such a soft blue.
No, it wasn’t any of those things. It was the way he paid attention to what you were saying. Not just heard but listened, making you feel as though what you were saying, no matter how simple or inane, was the most important thing in the world at that moment.
Mandy had watched him in the short time they talked, before Carrie came out. Especially the way he handled Levi, Clovis, and Becca. He talked to them like adults but his hand was close, even when she stood there, to help…
His hand.
“I held his hand.” Mandy spoke the words aloud. As she remembered his hand closing over hers, Mandy felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, not in embarrassment but something else, something she couldn’t define.
What a comfort it had been, she realized suddenly. Reaching and finding that big, warm hand had been exactly what she needed to get her through that moment at her mother’s grave. She would have to thank him when she saw him again.
If
she saw him again, she amended, even as she hoped she would.
So wrapped up in her thoughts, Mandy had not realized that Becca had finally fallen asleep.
“I really should get up and do something to help Amy.” But Mandy’s eyes were drifting shut; her body had other ideas.
Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was getting her mother’s papers and leaving a note for her pa. She’d have to discuss it with Amy…
Aaron Marks stood at his office window overlooking Baxter’s main street and reread the letter in his hand. He withdrew a match from his pocket to light his cigar. The smoke curled around his head as he once again read the last line. “I’ll be home this summer and it’ll be different this time, I promise.”
He raised both cigar and letter but changed his mind and pulled back short of lighting the paper. Walking to the cabinet where he kept his files, he reached in until he felt the false back. It moved easily under his touch, and the paper disappeared inside.
He scowled at the wall, where music suddenly sprang to life from the bar next door, and clamped the cigar tight in his teeth. The last thing he needed was music when he had to decide what move to make next. The din grew steadily louder, a little too raucous for so early in the day.
He
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