The Homesteader's Sweetheart (13 page)

He didn’t know. This confusion and insecurity didn’t sit well with him. He liked things ordered. Liked his quiet, homesteader’s life.

And yet, he couldn’t be disappointed that Penny had come into his life, even if the disruption was temporary.

Dishes done, he looked over his shoulder. It had grown awfully quiet in the other room, where Penny had been playing parlor games with the children to keep them busy while they were stuck inside. Last he’d checked, Walt had fallen asleep in the rocker near the fire, amidst all the noise.

Jonas felt a little isolated in the kitchen away from the laughter and shouts, but he was the one who had insisted on it after lunch. He’d needed the space to catch his breath and try to figure things out. Not that it had done him much good. He was still as confused as he’d been before.

A peek through the doorway revealed Breanna curled up next to Penny on the sofa, head on the woman’s lap, fast asleep. Maxwell was the only boy left in the room and sat against the wall facing Penny.

Jonas suspected Davy and Ricky had snuck out to the barn to check on a new foal and the others had probably retired to their rooms for a rainy-day nap, a luxury they rarely got.

“She’s a real sweet gal. Helps her folks with their store, and keeps her little sisters.”

Jonas realized Maxwell was talking about a girl. His son had never expressed an interest in the fairer sex, at least not to Jonas, but this certainly sounded like admiration.

“She sounds sweet. Do you know her, Jonas?” Penny asked, bringing him into the conversation though he wasn’t aware she’d even noticed him standing in the doorway.

Maxwell looked up from his spot on the floor. Jonas stepped into the room, hoping his son wouldn’t shut down because of his presence. Maxwell still kept some things private, even from his adoptive father.

Maxwell cleared his throat, face reddening. “We’re talking about Emily Sands.”

“I didn’t know you were sweet on her.” Jonas sat on the end of one of the benches, close enough to be part of their conversation without having to speak loudly and possibly wake Breanna.

“I ain’t really said anything to anyone, because…” Maxwell looked down and fiddled with his pants leg. “Well…she’s really somethin’ special and I’m…”

Jonas held his breath. Would Maxwell share about his past? He was remarkably closed-mouthed about it, even to Jonas, who only knew bits and pieces.

Penny reached out, stretched a little, and ruffled Maxwell’s curly black mop of hair. “You’re something special, too.”

His son looked up, his face open, hopeful. Yearning for Penny’s approval to be real.

Jonas knew exactly what Maxwell was feeling. His stomach had tightened into a knot as he waited to see what she would say to his son. He wanted her approval for Maxwell.

He tried not to think about what it would feel like to have Penny’s approving gaze rest on him.

Penny moved her hand to rest on Max’s shoulder. Jonas saw the boy tense before he relaxed at the simple touch.

“You work hard to help your father on this homestead. I’ve seen you with Oscar and the horses. You’re a smart fellow.”

Maxwell’s face was still pink under his tan. He looked down again. “I cain’t read,” he said, his voice barely audible. “And I’m too old to go to school anymore.”

Jonas’s breath caught again. He’d known the boy couldn’t read, but not that it bothered him this much. Jonas himself couldn’t read, could only work a few sums, enough to make sure he didn’t get taken at the general store, but he’d grown used to it. Oscar and Davy could read well, and the other boys continued their schooling in the winter months. With only his kids on the homestead, reading wasn’t a skill Jonas needed often.

But if it bothered his son, he would find a way to help Maxwell.

“Just because you can’t go to school, doesn’t mean you can’t learn,” Penny said, her hand still on Maxwell’s shoulder. “If your father agrees, we could borrow a primer from one of your brothers and practice your reading in the evenings, when you’re done with chores for the day.”

Maxwell looked up. “You’d teach me to read?”

“Of course.”

His eyes started to shine, but then his brows creased. “But what if…could you…I know you gave Oscar some advice about wooing Sally. I ain’t…I cain’t talk to girls. Maybe you could…you could…help me?”

Jonas couldn’t imagine what it had cost the boy to admit both to the fact that he couldn’t read, and also his painful shyness.

“We can do some lessons on that subject, as well. If your father agrees.”

Maxwell looked to Jonas, dark eyes shining, face full of hope. How could Jonas say no?

“It’s fine with me, if Miss Penny doesn’t think she’ll be too tired after supper. And if Walt doesn’t need you,” he qualified.

“Thank you.” When Penny looked at him, her eyes were shining, too.

He was a little surprised she’d agreed, but less so than when he’d first begun getting to know her. Penny had a compassionate heart and she was sensitive to the needs of his children. No doubt she had heard some of the things Maxwell hadn’t said and had responded to his needs.

“Is it all right if I go out and check on Ricky and Davy? Make sure they aren’t getting into trouble?”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Those two had a knack for getting into scrapes.

Jonas watched him troop through the kitchen and disappear out the back door. For a moment while he had the portal open, the sound of rain intensified, then faded again to just the sound of drops hitting the plank roof.

When Jonas turned to face Penny again, she was staring at where Maxwell had disappeared. He became conscious that they were alone for the first time since the corral. Well, alone except for the sleeping Breanna and Walt.

“Your sons are…interesting.”

Jonas bristled. No one insulted his family—

“Oh,” Penny said, her eyes on him now. “No, I didn’t mean anything bad. Just that each one has his own character. They are all so different.”

Jonas’s tension flowed away.

She clucked, a funny sound, and shook her head. “And none of them have a clue about women. Girls.”

“You’re probably right. Maybe Ricky. His ma raised him in a bordello before she died.”

Penny’s open mouth conveyed her surprise. “That’s—” She looked as if she couldn’t find a word strong enough.

Jonas shrugged. “She did the best she could by him. Some parents would’ve just abandoned him.” Like Jonas’s had.

“I’ve been wondering where all the boys came from. That seems like such a crude way to say it. Where did you find them?”

“Met Oscar on the train out of Boston. I guess to be correct I should say he was being thrown off the train. He’d snuck on board without a ticket.”

Her wide blue eyes showed what she thought of that. He was sure she’d never contemplated doing something so improper.

“Why was he alone?”

Jonas looked away, looked down so she wouldn’t see anything in his face if he revealed too much. “His parents died. Uncle took him in for a while but it wasn’t a good situation.” To say the least. “His uncle was pretty mean.”

Penny seemed to understand what Jonas wasn’t saying; her eyes darkened with compassion.

“And the rest?”

Her gentle reaction made it easier for him to tell the boys’ stories.

“I paid for a ticket so Oscar could come West with me and Breanna. By the time we’d reached Ohio, I’d talked him into staying with us. He’s the one who found Seb when we disembarked the train in Denver. The little tyke was grubby, sitting on the street, wailing. No one around knew him or who his parents were. No one seemed to want him, thought maybe he was sick because of his crying.

“When anyone would have been able to see he was just hungry, if they’d just looked. I picked him up and he clung to my neck and I couldn’t leave him…” Jonas still remembered the tearing feeling in his gut when he’d picked up the small boy who obviously hadn’t had a meal in days and had clung to him like a vine. “Finally, we discovered his parents had died days before. A judge put him in my custody.”

“You settled a homestead with a teen, a toddler and an infant?”

Jonas didn’t know what to think at the amazement in her voice. He ran his hand along the length of the finely sanded table. “I did what I had to. Couldn’t leave them behind. Your grandmama was a big help. Peg taught me to cook, helped when Breanna got a fever and I didn’t know what to do.”

“She was a great cook.” Penny’s smile held a touch of nostalgia. He imagined she missed Peg, a wonderful lady with a heart of gold. “But how did you do it?”

He shrugged. “There were a lot of days where I did chores with Breanna bundled in a sling across my back, with Seb following along behind me and chattering to her. Oscar was easy. He wanted to earn his way and I could understand that. He was more help than anything else.”

She shook her head gently, one hand resting on Breanna’s brown curls. He continued his story because she’d asked.

“Edgar came to us next. He’d been on an orphan train and was the only boy not taken. Someone had told the train lady I might take him.

“Looking at his sad blue eyes, I knew what he was thinking.” That no one wanted him. “He stayed.

“Stumbled on Davy and Ricky camping next to the creek a ways up.” He remembered the smell of a too-smoky fire and the two hungry boys who’d looked so guilty and so afraid when he’d come upon them. “They’d run away. Wouldn’t tell me where they were from, only that they weren’t going back.

“Then Matty… His family lived a few miles from here. They’d settled a homestead but his parents got sick and passed away. The preacher brought him to me.”

She must’ve been counting, because when he paused and tried to decide the best way to tell Maxwell’s story, she asked softly, “And Max?”

Jonas exhaled hard. “I don’t think he ever knew his dad. His ma was…unkind to him. She’d passed on by the time I met him. I’d taken Breanna down to Cheyenne to see the doctor there. Maxwell was in the street, scrapping with some bigger, older boys. It was clear he’d been on his own for a while—and he was losing the fight. I stepped in, but instead of thanking me, he turned on me.”

Jonas shook his head at the remembrance of the gangly boy with too much anger inside. “I told him I’d take him home with me if he wanted, and where Breanna and I were staying, but I didn’t hold out much hope that he’d come. But he did. Showed up the next morning next to our wagon, bruised and with a black eye and came with us. By the next town, Breanna had won him over.

“Took me longer.”

“Of course. You had to earn his trust. It’s clear that he thinks of you like a father now. All of them do.”

Jonas allowed himself a moment of pride for his sons. He’d taken each of them in with a lot of prayer, and so far they’d been blessings to his life.

Oh, he expected them to be boys. They could rustle up mischief in a matter of seconds. But he loved them all, and thought they probably loved him back.

He’d made his own family, and it was something special.

And then Penny asked the question he most assuredly didn’t want to hear. “And what about your background, Jonas? You’ve told me all about the boys, but I’d like to know your story, too.”

* * *

Penny watched Jonas’s face, so open and full of affection while he’d spoken about his boys, shutter and close off. The only clue she had that she’d asked something she shouldn’t have was the muscle fluttering in his now-clenched jaw.

“Of course you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” she offered. “I think I’ve guessed part of it, anyway.”

He stared into the fire. Was he going to ignore her query, or was he gathering his thoughts?

“You grew up without your parents, didn’t you?” she prodded gently.

His expression darkened. “What do you mean?”

“Just…some of the things you’ve said…makes me think they weren’t around.” Things like how he could relate to how the different boys felt…

He grimaced. “I guess you could say that. In a manner of speaking.” He paused and she thought that would be all he was going to say. She resolved not to push him anymore. She didn’t want to ruin their friendship by prying where she wasn’t wanted.

“My ma left when I was real little. I barely remember her at all. And my pa walked away when I was five. Left me on a street corner without so much as a goodbye.”

He spoke the words dispassionately, as if it didn’t hurt to say them, but Penny knew it must. “Oh, Jonas,” she breathed.

She wanted to touch him, to reach out to him in comfort, but with Breanna asleep across her lap, she didn’t dare move.

He shrugged again, an offhand movement, but his face hadn’t cleared. Was there more to his story than just parents who had abandoned him?

“I grew up mostly on the streets. Did a stint in an orphanage around my tenth birthday, but I hated it. The other boys were cruel, and there were too many of us.”

She remembered his comment about Breanna and how he didn’t want an orphanage for her. Of course he would feel that way after living in one himself, especially an overcrowded one.

“But how did you survive?” she asked, curiosity erasing her determination not to ask more. “After only two winters in Philadelphia, I can’t imagine how you kept warm.”