Clara and the girls were how.
And he would pay a stiff price for letting them worm their way into his life.
Maybe if he took them to the ranch, Clara would see that it was a far better place than here to wait for...whoever she waited for. He’d ask her when he went for supper.
As soon as it was a reasonable time to show up for supper, he left the church and made his way to the Mortons’ house. He stepped inside and looked about. Clara and the girls weren’t there yet. Was he that early?
Bonnie noticed his surprise. “Clara has been busy all day. She washed clothes over at the shack. I said she could do it here, but she insisted she could manage, though goodness knows how she did with only a small pan to work in. Then she bathed the girls and washed their hair. She said their hair is still wet, and she didn’t want to take them out in the cold, so she took food over there to eat.” Bonnie came up for air. “Sit.”
He did. How was he to ask Clara to go to the ranch if she didn’t come for supper?
He had no choice but to go to the shack. Never mind what Miss Foot would say. He wouldn’t go inside, so if Miss Foot watched, she would see that.
Bonnie rattled on about all the people who had come to town. Claude added a comment or two, but Blue just listened.
Finally, the meal ended. Blue thanked Bonnie and Claude and hurried from the house. He crossed to the shack. From outside the door he heard murmured voices from inside, but he couldn’t make out what was said.
He stepped forward and knocked.
Instant silence greeted him.
He wanted to slap his forehead. Knowing how she feared someone, he should have called out a warning.
“It’s me. Blue. I need to ask you something.”
“Wait a minute.”
He heard sounds from inside, like something being shoved across the floor and shuffling. Had she pushed boxes against the door to stop someone from entering uninvited? The thought made his nerves twitch.
He leaned against the door frame and waited.
When she opened the door, her cheeks were pink as if from exertion. “Yes?”
He glanced past her. The girls stood by the stove dressed in white nightgowns, their hair hanging down their backs. The homey scene touched a lonesome spot in his heart.
He shifted his gaze, not welcoming the reminder of what he had lost and buried two years ago.
“Yes?” she said again.
“Everything okay here?” That wasn’t what he’d come to ask, but it was what he wanted to know.
“Yes, fine.” She backed up as if preparing to close the door. “Thank you.” The words were uncertain. Spoken, no doubt, out of politeness when she really would rather have told him to leave her alone.
“Wait. I wanted to ask you something.”
She glanced over her shoulder, then stepped outside and closed the door.
He swallowed a protest. Did she think he meant to say or do something that would hurt the girls? Why, he’d do all he could to keep them safe if she’d let him. He quickly amended his thought. He might if he hadn’t promised himself he would never again care deeply enough about anyone to risk having his heart broken. He meant to keep that promise.
He cleared his throat and his thoughts. “Tomorrow is Sunday. Everyone at the ranch gathers for church at the cookhouse. It’s a simple, informal gathering, but it’s good.” Seemed a poor way of describing it. “Refreshing.” Still not what he meant. “Encouraging.” Now satisfied, he plunged onward. “I wondered if you wanted to go. I could rent a wagon and take you and the girls.”
Her eyes brightened. She opened her mouth as if she meant to accept his invitation. Then hardness overtook her face.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I have some things I need to tend to. But thank you.” She hurried inside and closed the door, leaving him staring at it.
How odd. He was certain she liked the idea, then had refused it anyway.
Didn’t she realize she’d be safer on the ranch than here in town? What he wouldn’t give to know who she feared. Then he’d find that person and warn them to stop making life miserable for Clara and the girls.
Or what?
He didn’t answer his question because he didn’t have the answer. What could he do to protect them without involving his heart?