The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [9]
John marveled at how he could predict her words. “I did learn from the best.”
She wiggled her nose at him. “Mamas do have other uses besides feeding and clothing their babies.”
“You’re right, and I love you for it.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “Shall I fix him a plate of food?” John’s stomach growled at the smell of ham and fresh peas.
“I think so. Not too much. As thin as he is, I don’t want to make him sick.”
“Mama, can we have the berry cobbler on the windowsill?” Mark said from the kitchen.
“No sir. It’s for supper. If you’re needing something sweet, grab another piece of cornbread and ladle some honey on it.”
John headed for the door to get a plate of food for Bert and then himself. “What are you going to do when you don’t have all of us to feed?”
“Rest. Read. And rock my grandbabies on the porch.”
“That’s a long time off.”
She smiled down at Bert, then up at him. “You’re old enough to be married, John. All we need to do is add another room onto the house or help you build your own home. I suppose the latter would suit you the most.”
When would he have time for a wife? He didn’t even have time to look for one. “There isn’t a girl around who has my heart like you do.”
She frowned and wagged a finger at him. “Then you haven’t been looking at all the girls trying to catch your eye.”
“The only females snatching up my attention are heifers and mares.” Only to himself would he dream about a different life. But dreaming was all it would amount to.
CHAPTER 5
John stole a look toward the back of the barn where Bert had dumped another load of manure right where he’d instructed. The pile was growing, and the stalls were getting cleaned. The kid worked hard, and John hadn’t heard any whining, even when Aaron and Mark teased him, which they were very good at.
Five days had passed since John brought Bert home. The notion of why the kid refused to give his full name or why he’d run away from home remained a mystery. Too much left unsaid meant a mountain of trouble. Marshal Culpepper hadn’t turned up a thing, which worried John even more. He considered wiring his Uncle Parker, who represented this area of Colorado in the Denver legislature. Maybe an advertisement in the Rocky Mountain News might turn up something, especially if a family was looking for Bert.
John wiped the sweat from his brow and watched the boy tote the wheelbarrow back to the barn. From the kid’s condition, he’d been on his own for a long while. Surprisingly, he’d survived. He ate poorly for a growing boy and looked peaked and frail. Maybe John shouldn’t give him so much to do. Ease up and let him get stronger. Poor kid. He must have had a tough life.
You have too much to worry about without frettin’ over a kid. But God said to look after strangers. The kid looked tired and hot. John made his way over to where Bert maneuvered the wheelbarrow back into the barn. “Here, let me give you a hand.”
“I can do it.” Bert heaved with the empty wheelbarrow.
John took over pushing it back to a far stall. “I know, but I don’t want you fainting in a pile of manure.”
“Hadn’t thought about that.”
John chuckled. “I did. And I don’t like the idea of lifting you out of it.”
John helped him load up two more times before the boy asked to finish the job by himself. For a skinny kid, he was strong and didn’t complain about the work.
What would happen to the boy once he worked off his debt? He needed a home, a place where folks would love him and teach him how to be a man.
But not at the Timmons ranch. John had enough responsibilities without another mouth to feed and another future to consider.
Bert picked up another shovelful of horse manure and dumped it onto the pile in the wheelbarrow. At this rate, she might finish today. John had had her start at sunrise before breakfast, and now at mid-afternoon, she could see real progress. Her shoulders ached, but she’d not complain. Each time she lifted the shovel and toted the wheelbarrow to the edge of the barn, she saw more of her debt paid.
She’d never eaten this good