Ben exhaled. How in the world should he answer that? “Not mad.” She was probably furious. “Just…disappointed, I’d guess.” She probably thought he was weak, insane, lower than the bottom dregs of society, a man she didn’t want to be near. Thank God, she’d allowed the boy to come up, at least. “We had a disagreement. Grownup stuff.”
Charlie shrugged. “Maybe you’d better say sorry.”
He gulped. “I did. But sometimes sorry isn’t enough.”
“You can do extra chores, or give her a gift. Or smile and say something nice.”
If only it was that simple, but the way she’d looked at him as she’d come down the stairs with her used rags and bucket, itwas as if she’d like nothing better than to rid herself of him along with the dirty water. “I plan to do more chores than you can count when I get to feeling better.” Yes, that’s what he’d do. God willing. He’d show her his worth. He’d earn back her respect.
“How many chores is that?” The boy rocked forward.
“I don’t know.” Ben sipped his lukewarm soup. “I’ll let you keep the tally because you’re going to help me.”
“I am?” He beamed. “How about hunting and fishing?”
“We’ll start with the front gate. Then the corral.” Ben discarded the spoon and lifted the bowl to his lips. “We’ll surprise your sister.” No use giving Cora something to say no to, as she had his money this afternoon. When he got better, he’d ride to town himself and buy supplies for them.
“Can we read?” Charlie hopped up and meandered toward the saddlebags.
“Bring them over here. I’ll dig out the Dickens book, and you can read me a few pages.”
“It’d sound better if you did it. Quicker too.” The boy heaved the leather satchels and wobbled over to the bed.
Ben’s throat burned from too many weeks of stomach upset. “You need the practice. I need to rest.” He set the empty bowl on the bedside table.Great Expectationsprobably wasn’t the best story for Charlie to read, but it was the only book, other thanLast of the Mohicansand his personal Bible, he’d brought with him. “The story’s about an orphan, taken care of by his sister, but Pip’s sister is nothing like yours. He wasn’t blessed with a sister like Cora who loves you dearly and would do anything to protect you.”
“Cora’s the best sister ever.” Charlie took the book. “But I miss Mama Scott. She was a real momma to me.” Charlie plopped down in the chair and fingered the embossed leaf design on the book cover.
Ben stretched out on the bunk and tugged the wool blanket up to his shoulders. “I imagine Cora is a lot like her.”
“In some ways. Not as quiet, though.” He brightened. “I bet Cora would be brave enough to fight a mountain lion.”
Ben smiled as he rolled onto his side and wedged his arm under the pillow. “I don’t doubt it. How about you read some?”
Charlie opened the cover as if it were a treasure and read the first page, tripping over the wordsPirripandblacksmith. He looked up. “The boy in the story never saw his mama. But I remember my Comanche mother.”
“You do?”
“She was a good mother too. Left me because she had to. Figured my pa’s home was the best place for me. Safer. And she was sick. That’s what Mama Scott told me.”
So that’s how he’d come to be part of the family. Mrs. Scott had taken in the child of her husband’s unfaithfulness. “I’m sure Mama Scott was right. You’re a lucky boy to have had two mamas that loved you.”
“Pa didn’t.” The words dropped like rocks.
Ben frowned. “Maybe he just didn’t like to say so.”
The boy shrugged and returned to reading about the orphan Pip. After a couple of pages, he looked up. “Ben?”
“Yes?”
“You’re going to get well, aren’t you? And stay with us?”
Ben swallowed hard as he gazed into the boy’s big gray eyes. How should he answer? “I’ll get well sooner or later.” He’d get better a whole lot sooner if he’d taken that spoonful of medicine today instead of scaring the devil out of Cora and making her think…making her think what?
“But you gotta stay. Cora said you’re like a brother to us now.” Charlie closed the book and leaned forward, waiting.
From the way Cora looked this afternoon, the brother invitation had been canceled. But Charlie had lost too many people already, been hurt too much.
A slow stream of air leaked from Ben’s lungs. He had a life in Philadelphia, his commitment to his father that he’d eventually take over management of the newspaper, and an almost-fiancée chomping at the bit for him to hurry back and make good on his proposal. “I’m not leaving anytime soon. You and I have a heap of work to do. I may even have to go find us some cattle.”
