Her husband chuckled. “You have quite an appetite.”
She ducked her head and accepted the bottle, distracting herself by feeding the baby. No one in Boston dared comment on a woman’s eating habits. To hear Cody mention it in a nonchalant way confused her.
His hand came to rest on her shoulder. “That’s a good thing out here, Ella. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
She glanced up. Compassion radiated from his eyes. “I believe you. It might take me a little time to adjust to the forthright manner of speech in the west.”
“You’ll get there.” He cleared his throat, gruffness finding his voice again. “I’ve got to be going. See you later.” Snatching his hat, he disappeared out the door.
Ella stared after him. How could he be soft one moment and rough the next? Perhaps the gruffness was a front, a way to protect himself from further hurt. Though she had to admit that he didn’t frighten her. For that, she was thankful. Howard had always frightened her. Cody exuded a sense of safety. A bear he might be, but Cassie was right—he was more softy than grizzly.
She looked down at Addie. “I suppose if he took the three of you in, he must have a good heart. He does, doesn’t he?”
The baby gazed up at her as she drank the bottle. No sooner had she finished than Ella heard the boys moving around upstairs. She stood and placed Addie’s bottle in the sink. The pot of oatmeal sat warm on the stove, ready for the boys. Had Cody even taken the time to eat? If he had, he must have eaten even faster than her. A glance in the sink showed that he had indeed eaten his own portion of oatmeal.
Footsteps pattered down the stairs. Ella turned as Isaiah and Jonah entered the kitchen, rubbing their eyes. Isaiah stopped cold when he saw her. “What’re you still doin’ here?”
That tone didn’t sound promising. But much like Cody’s gruffness, Isaiah’s probably hid a world of hurt. Shifting Addie to her hip, Ella replied in an even tone. “I live here.” She moved to the pot. “Your Uncle Cody made oatmeal for breakfast. Sit at the table and I’ll fix you a bowl.”
Jonah moved readily to his chair.
Isaiah stood dumbstruck before an apprehensive look entered his eyes. “It ain’t yucky like the tea, is it?”
Ella spooned some oatmeal into the bowls. She sprinkled extra sugar over the top for good measure. “Not at all.” She set the bowls in front of the boys, then poured a bit of cream in each one. Her hand stung from the activity, but she tried to ignore the pain.
Jonah tucked into his meal. Isaiah stared at the bowl. He poked at the oatmeal with his spoon. Ella turned her attention to Addie. Her time educating girls in Boston had taught her that sometimes ignoring rather than engaging a child led to the desired result. She glanced over her shoulder to see Isaiah eating his food.
A smile tugged at her lips. Thank God for small victories.
Cutting work short felt strange, but Cody knew his ranch hands could carry on in his temporary absence. Now, as he stood in Mrs. Greyson’s seamstress shop, he sent up a prayer of gratitude for workers he could trust.
Ella walked quietly between rows of fabric with the children in tow. She touched various kinds of material. Cody trailed behind them, watching her curiously. How would she determine which cut of cloth to use?
Ella pointed to several bolts. Each looked practical and comfortable. She focused on him. “You need new clothes too.”
“I’m fine.”
She eyed his pants. “That fabric is nearly worn through. It won’t keep you warm when it snows.”
Mrs. Greyson nodded her approval, lopsided bun swinging with the motion. “Excellent observation, Mrs. Brooks.”
Cody shot the woman an annoyed look, which she ignored.
Ella placed a hand on his arm. “You can let others take care of you, too, Cody. This is a partnership, remember?”
The quiet words, for his ears only, softened the fight inside him. He covered her fingers with his own. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
Her smile warmed his stomach. When her hand dropped back to her side, he missed the touch. Cody’s brow furrowed. What kind of reaction was that?
Ella voice dropped to a whisper. “Can you afford it?”
He’d saved money for clothes over the years. It was a fund he didn’t touch often. “Yeah.”
She smiled, turning to the seamstress. “This one for my husband.” Ella pointed to a thick brown material. Cody peered over her shoulder, impressed. As Mrs. Greyson bundled up the fabric, he looked at his wife. “You made your decisions quickly. How’d you do that?”
A half smile formed on her lips. “I lived in Boston. Fashion is something I know well.”
Isaiah tugged at Cody’s jacket. “Can we go?” The whine in his voice, coupled with the child rubbing his eyes, told Cody the boy was tired.
