Tarah's Lessons Page 9

  Tarah gasped. She’d forgotten all about Ben. She drew in her lip, trying to decide how to proceed. She couldn’t really show up with clothing for one and not the other. She had never seen Ben but imagined he had nothing better to wear than Laney.

  She glanced down at the items still lying on the counter. One outfit each was better than what they had now. And she could come back next month and get another set.

  Snatching up one shirt and one pair of Levi’s, she walked back to the shelf containing the clothing items and selected a larger pair of jeans. Turning to Mr. Tucker, she held them up for his perusal. “Are these about the right size for Ben, do you think?”

  Squinting, he studied the items, then nodded. “Yep. I’d say so.”

  “All right.” Tarah selected a shirt she thought might be the same size Luke wore and strode with purpose back to the counter. “One outfit each will have to do, I suppose.”

  “You buying trousers for the little girl, too?”

  “Yes, Sir. I doubt I could get her to wear a dress.”

  “ ’Suppose you’re right about that.”

  “About the washtub, Mr. Tucker. . .”

  He smacked his hand down on the counter and scowled. “Now, hold on just a minute.”

  Tarah drew a breath and steeled herself for the scolding she knew was forthcoming.

  “One set of duds ain’t enough for a couple of growing young’uns. Get on back over there and pick out another set for each of ’em.”

  If he’d asked her to marry him, Tarah couldn’t have been more shocked, especially after her discussion with Anthony about Mr. Tucker’s attitude toward the children’s pa.

  “But. . .” Her face flushed hotly.

  “Go on and do as I say.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Tucker, but I only have enough money to pay for these and maybe the washtub, if it isn’t too much. You never gave me the price.”

  His scowl deepened. He marched over to the wall and grabbed the washtub, then stopped, snatching up two more sets of clothing, and flung the whole lot onto the counter. Next he moved to the rack of coats Tarah had been eyeing, chose two, and set those on the counter as well. “Now, anything else you can think of they might be needin’ to get through the winter?”

  “I–I really don’t know.” She also didn’t know how she would pay for the items piled up on the countertop. “D–do you think I could open an account?”

  “What for? Your pa already has one.”

  “No. I mean for me. In my name.”

  “I’d have to talk it over with your pa, first,” he said. “He might not like the idea of your buying things on credit.”

  “Then, Mr. Tucker, I’m afraid you’ll have to put back the coats and one set of clothing for each child.”

  With a grunt, he began to fill a wooden crate with the items, completely ignoring her protests.

  Desperately, Tarah offered him the few bills in her hand—every cent she had to her name. “Please, I’m trying to tell you I don’t have enough money for all of those things.”

  He stopped what he was doing and wagged a bony finger toward her nose. “Now, look here, Missy. I’m not takin’ one red cent from you. And that’s my final word on the matter.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s no secret I don’t have much use for a man who won’t take care of his own. That Jenkins comes around here wanting credit for tobaccy and elixir when he can’t get liquor anywhere else, and he tries to get other useless things that won’t help those young’uns of his one bit. Oh, he’ll throw in a pound of beans or an egg or two, just to make it look like he’s trying to do for his family, but I know better. And I’m not givin’ him any more credit in my store. But these shirts and such are for them youngsters, and that’s different.” Apparently finished having his say, he resumed the task of packing the crate.

  Tears pooled in Tarah’s eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Tucker. The children will be grateful.”

  His gaze darted back to hers. “Now, don’t be tellin’ anyone I wouldn’t take your money. Folks might come around lookin’ for a handout.”

  A smile tugged the corners of Tarah’s mouth. “My lips are sealed. I promise.”

  “Good. I’ll hold ya to that. Now let me carry these out to your wagon for ya.”

  Clapping a hand to her cheek, Tarah let out a groan. “I walked to school this morning.”

  “You mean you’re aimin’ to carry this stuff all the way to the Jenkins place?”

  “I–I didn’t really think about it.”

  With a shake of his head, he reached under the counter and produced a key. “Come with me.” A deep frown etched his brow, and his voice was close to a growl. “You can use my wagon, but bring it back tomorra.” He walked to the door, muttering to himself. “Gonna have to lock up the store and most likely lose customers while I hitch up the team. Women. . .”

  ❧

  With great interest and more than a little curiosity, Anthony watched Tarah and Mr. Tucker cross the road and head toward the livery. The unlikely pair stood out like a snowy day in July. Mr. Tucker carried a crate in the crook of one thin arm and a bulky washtub in the other. Matching his stride, Tarah spoke with animated gestures, her face bright and smiling. Wishing he could hear their words, Anthony’s curiosity suddenly got the better of him.

  “Amos,” he called to the smithy, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  The smithy nodded and resumed his pounding on a new pair of shoes for Anthony’s saddle horse.

  With purpose, Anthony strode the few yards to the livery and stepped inside. He found Tarah speaking pleasantly to Mr. Collins while Tucker hitched up his team.

  “Howdy, Preacher.” Mr. Collins glanced over Tarah’s shoulder and grinned. “How’s it goin’?”

  “Just fine.”

  A touch of pink tinged Tarah’s cheeks as she smiled a greeting. “What are you doing in town this time of day?”

  “My horse threw a shoe.” He jerked a thumb toward the smithy. “Amos is getting him all fixed up.”

  “All set.” Mr. Tucker grabbed the bridle of one of the horses and led his team toward the door.

  Tarah, Mr. Collins, and Anthony followed until they stood outside the livery.

  “Thank you,” Tarah said, beaming at the storekeeper. “I promise you’ll have your wagon back first thing in the morning. And thank you so much for—”

  Raising a weathered hand, Tucker gave her a stern frown. “Now, we had a deal. Don’t go blabbing.”

  Lips twitching, Tarah nodded. “I almost spilled the beans, didn’t I? I’ll have to be more careful.”

  Anthony’s jaw dropped as she raised on tiptoes and brushed her lips to Tucker’s wrinkled face. Surprise lit the older man’s eyes, then a scowl deepened the lines on his face. “I don’t know where you got your manners, going around kissin’ people without bein’ invited.”

  A beguiling flush raced to Tarah’s cheeks. Anthony’s eyes flitted to her full mouth, and he suddenly wished that the kiss had been for him.

  Mr. Collins chortled. “Probably the first time you ever been kissed in your life, Tucker. Probably be the last time, too.” He gave Tarah a teasing wink. “If I’da known the pretty teacher was passing out kisses, I’da offered to let her use my wagon.”

  With an indignant snort, Mr. Tucker scowled. “There ain’t no need to embarrass the girl, Collins. Move on outta my way so’s I can help her into the wagon and get back to my store ’fore I lose any more customers.”

  “Sure you don’t want me to help her?” Collins baited the old codger. “She might try to kiss you again.”

  Anthony’s chuckle earned him a reproving frown from Tarah, whose face now glowed red. Averting his gaze, he cleared his throat and tried to stop grinning. To no avail. He looked back at Tarah and shrugged an apology. The sight of Mr. Tucker’s outraged face was too much. Any moment, Anthony thought, the older man might call Collins out.

  Tarah finally found her voice. Her eyes sparked fire. “Gentleman
, I assure you I won’t be kissing Mr. Tucker again today. Furthermore, I am perfectly capable of getting myself into a wagon.” So saying, she hoisted herself up onto the seat and grabbed the reins. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

  With a stubborn toss of her head, she flapped the reins and maneuvered the horses onto the cutout road through town.

  “Now, see what you went and did,” Mr. Tucker shot at the liveryman. “She’s madder’n a hornet.”

  Anthony stepped forward before another argument ensued. He clapped a hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “I’ll walk you across the street. I think I see someone trying to get into the store. You’d hate to lose a paying customer.”

  “True.” He gave Mr. Collins one last look and pointed a bony finger. “Now, don’t you go blabbin’ about that kiss. No need to have folks talkin’.” Without waiting for an answer, he spun around and headed back to the mercantile.

  Anthony followed. “See you later, Mr. Collins,” he called over his shoulder. As soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to Tucker.

  “Mr. Tucker, I’ve been meaning to ask you a favor.”

  The elderly man glanced up, suspicion clouding his face. “What kind of favor, Preacher?”

  Anthony cleared his throat. “I was just thinking you might need some help around the store. With new people coming into town, I’ve noticed you’re getting busier all the time.”

  Mr. Tucker nodded. “That’s a fact. You lookin’ for another job? I heard preachin’s not goin’ too good for you.”

  Heat crept up Anthony’s neck. “The job wouldn’t be for me.”

  “Who then?”

  “There’s a young man, a schoolboy actually, who lost his father last year. The family is in dire straits, so I was thinking maybe you could hire him to work here afternoons and Saturdays.”

  “That’s a fine idea, Preacher. Fact is, I been thinkin’ of hirin’ someone to clean up the place and help stock supplies. What’s this young feller’s name?”

  Anthony averted his gaze. “Jeremiah.”

  “That Daniels boy?” Mr. Tucker regarded Anthony as though he’d suddenly lost his mind. “You know as well as I do, he’d rob me blind. That kid steals from me every time he steps through the door. If his ma wasn’t such a good woman, I’d have turned him over to the sheriff a long time ago.”

  “I know, Mr. Tucker, but maybe the boy just needs a man to look up to. A father figure of sorts.”

  Mr. Tucker let out a loud snort. “I ain’t never been no father, and I don’t need to start now.”

  “I know, but you are a good man. Just the sort of man a boy like Jeremiah can learn from.”

  The storekeeper seemed to consider it for a moment. “I’ll think on it, but I ain’t makin’ no promises.”

  “I appreciate it,” Anthony said.

  Mr. Tucker opened the door. “No tellin’ how many customers I lost while I hitched up the team for that girl,” he grumbled.

  “What’s Tarah doing with your wagon, anyway?”

  “Guess that’s her business.” Tucker gave him a sideways glance. “’Course, it might not be a good idea for her to go out to the Jenkinses’ place all by herself. That fella’s a no-account if I ever met one.”

  “Tarah’s going out to the Jenkinses’ alone?”

  “Well, I couldn’t close my store and drive her out there, now could I? I got customers countin’ on me.”

  A lump lodged in Anthony’s throat as images of a drunken Jenkins mauling Tarah invaded his mind.

  “I’m going after her.”

  “Might not be a bad idea, at that.”

  Anthony said a hurried good-bye and broke into a jog as he made his way back to the smithy, praying his horse was ready to go. Thankfully, he found Dodger tied up and waiting for him when he got there. Mounting quickly, he glanced down at the smithy. “Put it on my account, Amos. I’m in a hurry.”

  “Sure thing, Anthony.”

  Anthony nudged the horse into a trot and headed toward the Jenkinses’ place. He nearly groaned when Louisa’s high-pitched voice hailed him from the porch of her parents’ home at the edge of town. “Yoo-hoo, Anthony.”

  Knowing he couldn’t pretend not to see her, Anthony heaved a sigh. He reined in Dodger, determined not to allow Louisa to keep him talking long enough that Tarah would reach the soddy before he could catch up to her.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Louisa called from the porch.

  “Got some business out at the Jenkinses’ place.”

  Wrinkling her nose, Louisa shuddered. “That awful place! Anthony, what possible business could you have out there?”

  “Personal business.” He smiled to take the sting from his words.

  Sparks shot from her eyes, and she jerked her chin. “I don’t think that place is very sanitary. And that awful child! She deserves a good spanking, if you ask me.”

  Which he most certainly hadn’t. “I think learning about Jesus would do Laney a sight more good than a spanking.”

  As if sensing his irritation, Louisa smiled invitingly. “We don’t have to talk about her, do we? Why don’t you come down from there and join me in a nice cup of tea?” she said. “Rosa made some delicious molasses cookies earlier.”

  “I’m sorry, Louisa,” he replied, knowing she could hear the distraction in his voice. He glanced toward the direction Tarah had taken. “I really have to go. Maybe another time.”

  “Oh, come now, just one little solitary cup of tea? I’ll be so hurt if you refuse me.”

  Hesitating for only a moment at her pleading tone, Anthony shook his head. “I can’t today. I’m sorry.”

  He held his breath as her face clouded over. All he needed was for Louisa to throw a temper tantrum in public. But her angry frown cleared so quickly, Anthony wondered if he’d imagined it.

  Fingering the lace on her high-collared neckline, she gave him a pretty smile. “All right. I suppose I can wait until our picnic on Sunday to have you all to myself.”

  Anthony groaned inwardly. He’d forgotten about the picnic he’d promised her. Knowing he couldn’t back out now, he simply nodded and tipped his hat.

  “I’ll be seeing you, then.”

  “Bye, now.”

  With a relieved sigh, Anthony left her behind and urged Dodger into a full gallop.=

  Eight

  “Tarah, stop!”

  The near panic in Anthony’s voice sent Tarah’s heart racing. She halted the team and spun around in her seat to wait for him to catch up. “What on earth is the matter?”

  “Are you crazy?” he thundered, a deep frown creasing his brow.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “What were you thinking, driving out to the Jenkinses’ by yourself?”

  Taken aback by his accusatory tone, Tarah’s temper flared. “I have things to deliver for the children. Besides, why shouldn’t I go out there alone?”

  He slapped his hand against his thigh with a resounding smack. “The man’s a drunk and a ne’er-do-well, Tarah. You don’t know what he might be capable of doing.”

  “Honestly.” Tarah dismissed his words with a wave of her hand, though she had to admit, his concern thrilled her to the core. “You heard Laney say her pa sleeps the day away. He probably won’t wake up for a couple of hours yet.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “I do know if we sit here arguing all day, there’s a pretty good chance I’ll catch him awake.”

  “Let’s go, then. If he wakes up, I can speak to him about our idea to help with repairs to the homestead.”

  She cut her gaze upward and flashed a coquettish smile. “Why, Anthony, did you come all the way out here just to accompany me?” she asked in a singsong voice that would have put Louisa Thomas to shame.

  His lips twitched, and one eyebrow shot upward. “I wasn’t exactly planning to sling you over my shoulder and force you back to town.”

  Stung by his less-than-flattering response to her attempt at
flirting, Tarah tossed her head. “I’d like to see you try,” she challenged. “Besides, you needn’t have bothered. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” he drawled. “But just in case, I think I’ll tag along.”

  “Suit yourself.” She flapped the reins to nudge the horses forward.

  Astride Dodger, Anthony stayed beside the wagon. Silence hung between them like a heavy fog.

  Tarah felt like a fool for believing that just because Anthony worried about her safety, he was growing to care for her as a man cares for a woman. Louisa had set her cap for him, and obviously he had put up no resistance.

  Still, in her mind Tarah replayed the image she often conjured up these days—of Anthony realizing Louisa was not the woman for him. Of his declaring what a fool he’d been and begging Tarah to forgive him and be his wife.

  Anthony’s voice broke through. “What’s in the box?”

  Pulled from her dreams of a white gown made of silk and lace, Tarah jumped at the intrusion. “Pardon me?”

  “The box? What are you delivering to Laney and Ben?”

  “Oh. Some clothes I picked up at Tucker’s.”

  “I thought we were going to ask for donations.”

  The memory of Laney’s humiliation came rushing back, and Tarah spoke with conviction. “We did. But I didn’t want Laney to wear the other children’s cast-off clothing. I seriously doubt she would, anyway.”

  “Sounds like you are encouraging her to be prideful,” Anthony admonished.

  Tarah frowned. “I don’t mean to, Anthony. But Laney showed up at school today, and the children were horrible to her.”

  “Not Jo,” he said with a groan.

  She nodded. “Among others.”

  “I’m going to have to wear the tar out of that girl. She promised no more shenanigans.”

  “In this case, it wasn’t only Jo. Laney is rather. . .offensive in some ways.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” he said wryly.

  Tarah rose to the girl’s defense. “It isn’t her fault. She’s been raised without a mother to teach her how to bathe and dress. We can’t expect her to come by such things naturally with the pa she’s got.”

  “You’re right, of course.” He grinned. “I hope you got plenty of lye soap to go along with that washtub.”