A Heart's Blessing - Linda Ford Page 0,2

The women exchanged amused smiles and the one with the children spoke again. “Taste the food and let us know if you think it’s good.”

He couldn’t go on thinking of the woman as “that one” or “the mother.” She put a bowl in front of him, the rich aroma of split-pea soup making his stomach rumble. “Thank you. It smells delicious.” He got to his feet to address her. “By the way, my name is Ryder Remington. I have opened the harness and saddlery shop next door.”

“Welcome to town. I hope you do well. My name is Miss Morton.”

Miss? How could that be? An unmarried mother? He looked at her more closely. He wouldn’t have thought she was the type.

She continued. “My friend is Miss Fisher. My children are Kent and Sally.” She turned, took a step, and then stopped and faced him again. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a church service tomorrow. I hope you’ll feel free to attend.” With that she hurried to the kitchen.

Ryder returned to his seat and took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted every bit as good as it smelled. Those around him made appreciative comments.

Church? He hadn’t attended since…well, since his troubles began. There had always been an excuse. He was too devastated by his loss. He was too tired. He couldn’t face the community that was willing to believe Cody was capable of such a thing. He was busy getting ready to head west. He was…

Disillusioned, mostly.

His soup bowl was empty. Miss Morton returned to take it and put a plate piled high with food before him. Mashed potatoes and rich brown gravy, peas and carrots, two big pork chops, a mound of applesauce. “Looks good. Thanks.”

The sound of children laughing trickled from the kitchen. Children who needed to be kept safe. “Miss Morton, your children were on my property earlier. It isn’t safe for them to be there unsupervised. Many of my tools are sharp and dangerous.”

Her eyes widened. She gave him a look that would have curled his finest piece of leather. Then she tipped her nose upward.

“I’ll be certain to keep them away.” She huffed off.

He looked around the room, saw every eye on him. Curious, sympathetic, and amused.

One old cowboy laughed. “You done offended her. Doncha know you caint speak ill of children without turnin’ their ma into a ragin’ bear?”

“I said nothing about the children.” Seemed she should be grateful for his concern.

“T’aint how she heard it.”

Ryder returned to his meal. The food was good, but his stomach sour. His only thought had been to make sure the children were safe. That didn’t seem like a hanging offense.

But when it was shy Miss Fisher who took away his empty plate and brought out a generous slice of pie, he guessed Miss Morton didn’t care for his remarks.

An overly sensitive woman would be difficult to deal with. Thankfully, they were only neighbors and wouldn’t need to have anything to do with each other.

Delcie stared at the pot of potatoes now almost empty though she had not one thought about the contents of the pot. Before that man came, the children were safe over there. She’d been aware that Sally had a little nest in the bushes against the saddlery shop where she liked to play, often taking her favorite toy—a well-worn rag doll—with her and singing to it. She hadn’t thought it mattered when no one lived there, and it was only a few feet from the kitchen where she could watch Sally as she worked.

But now she had to curtail the child’s activities. She knew enough to be wary of letting strangers around the children. Mind you, it wasn’t a stranger who had kidnapped the children back at Broadstone, Manitoba. It was a friend. A beau. A man she thought would be her ally…and more. Lesson learned. She didn’t intend to repeat it. From now on, she would make certain the children stayed in their own yard, in sight. Kent was much more responsible than his sister, but then, he was six and recalled the fear of being whisked away. But four-year-old Sally sang and danced her way through her days with no concern about dangers ahead. Delcie would leave it that way if she could. She didn’t wish Sally to become fearful. But she had to protect the children. How was she to do that and give them the kind of life she wished for them? One that reflected the sort she