All along? She didn’t need a lightning bolt to strike her to know his comment had nothing to do with the puppy.
“Ewww.” Charlie laughed and held Jack at arm’s length. A wet circle stained his not-quite-white shirt.
“Set him down.” Cora dusted her hands on her apron and headed for the back of the wagon. “You can wash out your shirt after you carry in a load.”
“I’ll have to train him when to go potty.” Charlie set Jack on a patch of leaves and rubbed his hands on the grass.
The puppy bounded around chasing his tail, then smacked at the ground with his oversized paws to send the leaves flying in the air.
Cora gawked at the wagon bed. A sack of flour, a keg of nails, a bundle of rope, and another crate. A sack of sugar bulged out the top, next to a bag of coffee beans. Coffee. She hadn’t had real coffee since 1862. She’d swallowed boiled water flavored with sassafras leaves, barley, or worse in the years since, but real coffee? A rare commodity in Texas since the war. How much had Ben spent?
She reached for the crate.
“I’ll handle that.” Ben’s rich, deep tone jarred her, igniting warmth in her chest. His flannel sleeve brushed close to her arm.
“I can do it.” She stumbled over her words as she gazed into hazel orbs with gold speckles. Her cheeks heated, andshe glanced away but returned her gaze to his. If he’d used laudanum in town, would it show in his eyes?
His eyebrows quirked upward. “You have a question?”
“No.” She grabbed the nail keg.
“Here. This one is for you.” He switched the keg out for the coffee beans and handed the nails to Charlie. “I’d love a cup.”
She trailed behind him as he carried the crate in. “Coffee’s expensive, you know.”
“I noticed. And not easy to find.” He settled the crate on the kitchen table. “So we’d best limit ourselves to a cup a day, or water down the beans a bit.” He planted both hands on the oak surface, palms down, waiting.
She cradled the sack to her chest and struggled to bite back her objections. He shouldn’t spend so much on them. She’d never be able to pay him back. Obviously, he had no intention of listening. “I…we…shouldn’t?—”
“Shouldn’t stand around when there’s a wagon to unload and coffee to brew?” He cocked his eyebrows and headed out the door before she could manage a rebuttal.
She shuddered. The coffee, the puppy, all the repair work… Ben was weaving his way into their lives. What did he get out of this? How much had Jeb’s friendship meant to him that he’d go to so much trouble to help his kin?
It wasn’t as if Ben was an expert craftsman or rancher. His first attempt at fixing the palisade gate hadn’t gone well. The latch struck the plate too high. Undeterred, he’d taken the gate off and repositioned it a second time. The fact that the work didn’t come easy to him but that he was honing the skills for their sakes sent her stomach into a worse tumble.
Blowing out a breath, she unloaded sugar, baking soda, salt, a couple jars of peaches?—
Charlie lumbered in, both arms wrapped around the sack of flour. “Where should I put this?”
“In the corner by the cupboard.” She smiled.
Charlie eased the sack down on the spot. “When I finish unloading, I’m going to find Jack a blanket. There’s one in the barn?—”
“Stick with finding something in my scrap basket. Jack doesn’t need a full blanket. He’s got plenty of fur.”
“But, Cora, he’s only a puppy.” Charlie reached into the crate for the string of dried apple slices.
“Ben’s right about not babying him.” She’d sunk low, using Ben’s approval as support.
“Then he might need to come into my bed to keep warm.”
She pointed her finger at him. “No. But in a couple of days, after we get all the use out of the ham hock, I’ll let you give it to Jack.”
“Thank you.” He jumped up and down. “That’ll make his tail wag. And speaking of dinner, can Ben eat with us? I bet he’s like Jack. I don’t think he likes to eat alone.”
She jabbed a hand to her hip. “Did Ben give you that idea?”
Doe-eyed Charlie gazed up at her. “No, he didn’t say a word. But I know what it’s like to not be at the table with everyone else.”
