The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [70]
Now she realized her best pondering and prayer time came when she washed clothes. Something about scrubbing the dirt from her sons’ britches and shirts, rinsing out the soap and hanging them on the line to dry, seemed to bring answers to problems. But not today.
Rowdy’s barking brought Leah’s attention to the road leading back to the 5T. A lone rider headed toward the house. Lord, haven’t we had enough strangers? She gave the man a second scrutiny, and when she didn’t recognize the horse, she dropped the clothes into the basket and hurried to the porch to fetch her rifle. With all the talk of rustlers and missing cattle, she’d not hesitate to send a no-good man to meet his Maker.
Leah lifted the heavy weapon to her shoulders. Sometimes she wished she were twice her size. The man waved as though he knew her. She squinted. Surely not.
“Miss Leah.” Wirt Zimmerman rode right up to the front steps. “You’re as pretty as I remember.” The same pale gray eyes and smooth skin. A few lines had formed from the corners of his eyes, but the easy smile drew her to him.
He hadn’t changed. “Afternoon, Wirt. It’s been a long time. What brings you all the way out here?”
“Business. Parker sent me. Said you folks needed help with cattle rustlers.”
Then why did he send you? “We’ve had problems.”
Wirt pushed his hat back. “I’m not the same man, Miss Leah. I’ve worked hard with the US Marshals and learned a lot. I can imagine what you’re thinking, but I’ll not disappoint you or anyone else in this community.”
Leah had given Bert a second chance. She could give Wirt one too—at least a partial one. “Would you like some cool water?” She rested her rifle against the side of the porch.
“I would.” He dismounted, and she caught the familiar sparkle in his eyes.
She wondered about those eyes more than she cared to admit. Gray. A mix of black and white. Her daddy back in Virginia said a man with gray eyes could never be trusted—never knew whose side he was on. Of course her daddy had chased Parker and Frank off with a shotgun.
“Won’t be taking up much of your time,” Wirt said. “I need to ride on into Rocky Falls, but I was anxious to see you. How are the boys?”
“They’re fine. Growing like weeds. John’s still in charge of the ranch and doing deputy work. In fact, he’s in town working with Marshal Bob Culpepper.”
“I’m not surprised. The boy I remember must be a man now. He did have a heart for justice.”
“Would you like to come inside?”
“No thanks. I’d rather wait on the porch here. Seems more fittin'. And I do need to help bring in those cattle rustlers.”
Maybe he had grown into a US Marshal. She left the door open while she dipped a ladle of cool water into a glass. “Not sure you’d recognize the boys.”
“Five years is a long time. I was thinking John’s about twenty-three.”
“Right.”
“And that makes Evan eighteen, Aaron sixteen, Mark fourteen, and Davis is nine.”
She smiled and handed him the glass of water. “Your memory serves you well, Wirt.”
“For some things, yes.”
His tender look told her the words he’d written in his letters were still on his heart. “Have a seat. Did you visit your family?”
Wirt sat on the bench by the front door, and Leah slid onto a rocking chair. “I did. The Quaker life isn’t for me, but I respect their beliefs. And I felt a need to make some sort of reconciliation with my folks.”
“Were you well received?”
He glanced toward the barn, then back to her. “As I expected. But I tried, and that’s all God requires of me. I write them and hope they read the letters.”
Guilt assailed Leah. “Sorry I stopped writing. I was confused with what you asked, and I didn’t know for sure how I felt.”
“I understand. I was pushing you too soon after Frank had died, not thinking about the worries of raising those boys. While I’m here, I hope you’ll see my dandy days are over.”
Leah rubbed the palms of her hands together. Victor and Wirt. Good heavens. Now she knew how Ember felt.
“No need to say a word. I’ll prove myself. I’ve had five years to think about you—about your sons—and what God has purposed for me.”