Chapter Twelve
Clover waved as the carriage carrying Molly, Agnes, Jonathan Clemmons, and Colin Doogan drove away. It had been only a week since the spring revel, but Jonathan and Colin were clearly eager to get down to the business of courting, without further delay. Clover was pleased that Molly and her mother were going to have a leisurely day of relaxation, but she heartily wished she could go with them. Their absence also meant that she would be completely responsible for doing the chores and preparing supper. Clover was not sure she was ready for such independence.
She was just about to return to the house when Ballard emerged from the barn and reached her side in several long strides. His dark expression made her tense with concern.
“Lass, your ma and Molly just left, didnae they?”
“Yes. Do you need them back? I am sure you can catch them if we have to.”
He shook his head. “Nay, ‘twould only be so someone could stay with ye for an hour or so, mayhapmore. One of my mares is missing. One of the fence rails got knocked down and she slipped out of her paddock. She is one of my best breeders. I will need every pair of eyes I have at hand to find her.”
“Do you want me to come too?”
“Nay, ye stay here, lass. Just keep to the house and dinnae let anyone in.”
“Ballard, do you think someone let her out on purpose?”
He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “I cannae say, love. If the mare is only roaming free, ‘tis just a petty revenge, but if she is gone or hurt, it could prove to be a costly one.” He kissed her cheek. “I dinnae think ye are in danger. I can leave Adam or your brothers here, if it will make ye feel better.”
“No. You need Adam, and the boys are only eight. They could hardly protect me if something should happen. Are you sure they will be much help to you?”
“Aye. They can look about as well as I can. Last week they found that lost pig, if ye recall.”
“Yes, of course. Go. We must not let that oaf Big Jim rule our lives with his threats. I will be fine. To tell the truth, I do not think Big Jim Wallis is clever enough to plan my deliberate abduction. He would just charge in blindly.”
Ballard laughed and nodded. “Aye, I think ye judge the mon right.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Stay in the house and I will be back as soon as I can.”
“Good luck,” she called as he loped off.
Clover watched the men ride away, her brothers sharing the horse Ballard had given them. Just as she headed back into the house, she heard an odd creaking sound, as if someone was trying to approach her unseen and unheard along the veranda. She stoodstill and listened hard, every muscle tensed. Even as she was thinking that she ought to run into the house, the Morrisey boy scrambled nimbly up and over the veranda railing.
“Oh, you gave me a fright. What are you doing here?”
“I just come to visit. Is that all right?” He edged closer and gave her a tentative smile.
“Well, ‘tis fine with me, but will you get into trouble?”
“I already be in trouble today. Thought to meself, well, you gonna get a beating anyway so why not later instead of sooner. So I decided to come a-calling.”
“Pleased to have you.” She pointed to the washing bowl set on a table near the door. “Just wash your face and hands and then you can come inside.” While he did as she asked, she studied him. “What is your name?”
“Brat,” he mumbled as he rubbed his face dry with the cloth hanging on a peg by the bowl.
“That is a horrible name. You must have another.”
“Nope. Weren’t never given no proper name and Brat’s one of the nicer ones the Morriseys call me.”
She shook her head as she ushered him inside. “I simply cannot call you by that name. Do you have another name you might like, one you might give yourself if you had a choice?”
He sat at the kitchen table, watching Clover with wide eyes as she filled a plate of food for him, and considered her suggestion. Finally he said, “Willie.”
“Willie? Why did you choose that name?” She sat down opposite him as he wolfed down the food and cider she served him. The child was fed barely enough to keep him alive.
“I just always liked it. Sorry,” he said as he tried to wipe up the crumbs that had sprayed from his mouth.
Clover smiled. “You are forgiven—this time. But if you intend to visit me often, I will have to teach you some table manners. How old are you, Willie?”
“Near as I can figure, I be about eleven, maybe twelve.”
