The Hand-Me-Down Family (16 page)

J
ack sat on the top step of the porch, listening to the familiar night sounds while he mulled over an idea that had been taking shape in his mind for the last few hours. It seemed one good thing had come out of his discussion with Simon this morning after all. The boy's idea about rebuilding on that plot of land in town had given him the backup plan he needed.

He wasn't at all surprised when the door opened behind him. In fact, he'd been waiting for her.

“They're all tucked in.”

“Good.” He glanced up and frowned at her bonnet, pointing his knife at it.

“Aren't you forgetting something?”

He watched the play of emotion on her face. She obviously thought he was being unreasonable. And maybe he was. But he just didn't like to see her constantly imprisoning herself in those uncomfortable-looking headwraps.

Callie moved closer, leaning against one of the support posts that flanked the steps. The one with his father's carving.

With slow, deliberate movements, she removed the bonnet.
It was strangely mesmerizing to watch her unveil in the silvery moonlight.

When she was done, she raised her face to the stars and shook her head, as if to make the most of her newfound freedom. But he noticed she had positioned herself so that her “good” profile was presented to him.

He decided not to press her on that point. Not tonight.

“I dug out all of Julia and Leland's old clothes this afternoon,” she said. “I was wondering if you wanted any of Leland's things. For your own use, I mean.”

Just what he
didn't
need—more of Leland's hand-me-downs. He shaved a thick curl of wood from the block in a sharp movement. “No, thank you. I'm sure you can find some other use for them.”

“Actually, I already have.”

He glanced up, intrigued.

“Emma and Simon's wardrobes are sadly lacking,” she said, her voice rushing over the words. “I'd like to take the cloth from these garments and fashion them some new things.”

One step above a hand-me-down. Would the kids mind?

“Wouldn't it be a lot easier to just buy some new fabric and start from scratch?”

“Maybe. But that would be so wasteful when this cloth is readily available. And I can fashion the clothes so that they look like new, made for children their age. I told you, my father is a tailor. I learned quite a bit from him.”

A practical-minded woman. And once again she'd recognized a need that had slipped right by him.

He rubbed his chin, not sure if he felt admiration, jealousy or some combination of the two.

“Suit yourself,” he said, then changed the subject. “Don't forget, I plan to work on clearing out the rubble from the fire tomorrow. I'll probably be gone most of the day.”

“I'll make sure I get up earlier.”

Did she think he planned to leave without taking care of things here first? “Don't worry. I won't head out until the morning chores are done.”

“That wasn't what I meant.” She turned to face him fully, possibly forgetting she'd removed her bonnet. “What you're planning to do in town is important. And it'll be hard work. I just don't want to hold you back or add to your work.”

“Don't worry, you won't.” He rested an elbow on his thigh. Time to mention the new plan. “I'm thinking, once I get the place cleared, I might build something new there.”

“Oh?” Her unspoken question hung in the air between them.

“Yes. Simon reminded me earlier that that bit of property is his and Emma's legacy. I was thinking, if I put up a new structure, it would give you and the kids a place to go if you decided life out here was too hard.”

She crossed her arms. “That won't happen.”

“Maybe not.” He didn't want to argue with her over this. He was going to provide a safety net for her and the kids, whether she wanted one or not. Yep, by August he could head back to his old life with a clear conscience and the confidence that he'd done his duty.

But right now he'd soothe her ruffled feathers. “Even if you do decide to stay here, we could always rent the place out and have another source of income.”

She relaxed, letting her arms drop to her sides. “That makes sense. But how will Simon and Emma react to having someone else live in what they think of as their place?”

“It might be hard for them to get used to at first, especially Simon. But I'll make sure it doesn't look anything like the old place. And as long as we lease it, it'll still be there for them to do whatever they please with once they get old enough.”

She brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. “Building a new place will be a lot of work.”

“Most things worth doing are.”

“I agree. But won't it delay your departure?”

Was she disappointed or glad? He caught himself—the answer to that question was irrelevant. “It might delay things a bit. But I think in the long run this will be better for all of us.”

It would give him a clearer conscience when he left, that was certain.

 

Jack arrived in town the next morning to find three youths lined up in front of what was once his sister's home and work-place. He gave them an assessing look as he set the brake on the wagon. One of them was a big lad, probably seventeen or eighteen, and obviously used to hard work. The second was not quite as big or as old, but he still looked like a worker. The third hopeful was slimmer and not near as muscled. But if the kid was willing to work, he could probably still get some use out—

He frowned, taking a second, closer look as he neared the trio. Unless he was mistaken, the third youth was a girl dressed in boy's overalls.

Now who in tarnation had let their daughter out like that?

He stopped in front of his would-be work crew and folded his arms. “So you all want to earn a bit of money, do you?”

Three heads bobbed in unison. “Yes, sir.”

“What're your names?”

The biggest of the three spoke up first. “Calvin Lufkin.”

“You Walter Lufkin's boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Walter Lufkin was a farmer with a big place and an even bigger brood of children. The man was as honest as the day
was long and knew the meaning of hard work. Chances were, he'd passed those traits on to his son. “You'll do.”

He nodded to the second boy. “And you?”

“Albert Hanfield. I'm Charles Hanfield's son,” he added before Jack could ask.

Charles Hanfield owned a pig farm just outside of town. Albert likely knew the meaning of hard work as well. “All right, Albert, you're hired.”

Next he turned to his third candidate.

“Jessie Mills.” She offered the name before he even had a chance to ask.

“And would that be short for Jessica?”

The two boys snickered, but stopped abruptly when she flashed a glare their way.

She turned back to Jack and the tilt of her chin reminded him strongly of Callie. “Actually, it's short for Jessamine.”

“Well, Jessie, I'm afraid—”

“You didn't ask about my dad,” she said, cutting him off. “He's Joe Mills, and he runs the livery and smithy. I'm used to hard work, just ask anyone here in town.”

“I'm sure you are, but knocking these timbers down and carting them off is not only hard work, it can be dirty and dangerous, too.”

“I work around a smithy and horses that ain't been broke yet. I don't mind getting dirty and I know how to handle dangerous jobs.”

There was something about the girl, an edge of determination beneath her bravado, that kept Jack from refusing her outright. He rubbed his chin. “I tell you what. I'll hire you for just this morning and see how you do. After lunch we'll talk again.”

“Yes, sir! I promise you won't be sorry.”

Jack wasn't so sure of that—he was already second-
guessing his decision. But he'd given her his word and he'd stick by it.

He stepped back and spoke to the group as a whole. “The pay is four bits a day, and I expect you to earn every cent of it. I don't have any use for laggards and lay-abouts. I want to have every bit of this wreck dismantled and the whole lot cleared out by Thursday evening. And I want it done without anyone getting hurt in the process. Understand?”

There was a chorus of “Yes, sir”s.

“Good. Then you'll find tools in my buckboard. Calvin, I want you working with me, knocking down these timbers. Jessie and Albert, while we're working on this end, you get a wheelbarrow and start carting off everything that's just laying about down on that end. And that means shoveling the ashes as well. Make sure you keep your eyes open for jagged bits and shaky timbers.”

He grabbed a sledgehammer from the back of the wagon. “Take the bigger timbers and stack them in the middle of the back lot. We'll go through 'em later to see what can be reused and what should be tossed on someone's woodpile.” He paused. “If you happen across anything that seems salvageable—anything at all—set it aside for me to look at.”

The three nodded and set to work.

All through the morning, Jack kept an eye on Jessie. He had to admit, the girl definitely knew how to get things done. She was nimble and quick, and she didn't complain about the dirt or the work.

When he called a break at lunchtime she sauntered over with a smug smile. “Do I pass the test?”

He took a bite of the sandwich Callie had packed for him, studying her thoughtfully while he chewed.

After a moment some of her cockiness faded and she jammed her hands in the pockets of her overalls. “Well?”

He swallowed and tilted his hat back. “You'll do.”

Relief shone in her eyes. “Thanks, Mr. Tyler. I'll do you a real good job this week, you'll see.”

He watched as the girl raced off in the direction of the livery stable, wondering what her story was.

 

That evening, Jessie held back as the two boys headed home. “Mr. Tyler, I want to thank you for taking a chance on me today.”

Jack nodded. “Thank you for not disappointing me.”

She watched as he dipped his bandanna in the horse trough and washed his neck. “People say you've traveled all over the country.”

Jack laughed. “Not all over, but I've visited my share of places.”

“That's what I'm gonna do someday.” Her voice lost its hard edge. For the first time he saw something of her feminine side. “And not just this country, either,” she continued. “I'm gonna travel to Europe and Africa and all those places Mrs. Mayweather talks about in school.”

He remembered having those yearnings to see what existed outside the narrow confines of Sweetgum. “I wish you well.”

“That's why I'm working so hard. People make fun of me 'cause I'm not like other girls. I'll do most any old job to earn a few pennies, so long as it's honest labor. But it doesn't matter what they think of me. Once I leave here I can become whoever I want to be.”

He heard echoes of his own childhood in her words. His eagerness to leave Sweetgum had been tied up in his desire to be looked at differently, to become someone other than Lanny's little brother.

What was her reason?

Not that it was any of his business. He squeezed the water
from his bandanna and put his hat back on. Then he had another thought. “How would you like to earn some extra money?”

Her eyes lit up. “Just tell me what you need done.”

“This job requires someone with keen eyes who doesn't mind getting more than a little dirty.”

“Then I'm your girl.”

“I told y'all earlier to keep an eye out for anything salvageable. I know it may be a lost cause, but I'm looking for anything that survived the fire that would have some value or meaning to Emma and Simon. It'll mean digging through all the soot and ashes to see what might be buried underneath.”

If there was any piece of Emma and Simon's home or belongings that remained intact, he intended to find it.

“I'll be doing some looking myself, of course, but it would be good to have another set of eyes.”

“I think that's a mighty fine thing to do. The Carsons were always good to me and I'd be right honored to help you do something nice for their kids.”

With a nod, she headed home, whistling off key.

He watched her a moment, then climbed into the wagon, ready to get back to his family.

As the wagon passed out of town, he let the mare have her head. She knew the way home as well as he did.

Jack rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck muscles, trying to work some of the kinks out. Clearing the burned out shell of his sister's café was hard work. Demolition, of course, was his stock and trade. But this was not like his usual jobs.