Beauty for Ashes Page 0,66
mercantile. I’m out of everything, and the boys are ravenous.”
He laughed. “Reminds me of myself at that age. I could eat half a dozen eggs for breakfast without blinking an eye.”
“Carrie!” Caleb shouted as Joe let out a scream. “Joe fell off the fence.”
Carrie and Griff rushed across the yard. Joe was sitting up, but a deep gash had opened on his forehead. Blood trickled into his eye. He was gasping, trying not to cry.
“I wanted to ride Majestic,” he said. “I stood on the fence to jump into the saddle, but I missed.”
“Here.” Griff knelt beside Joe and pressed his clean white handkerchief to the gash. “Hold it there for a minute, son, and the bleeding will stop.”
“It hurts.”
“I know it does, but you’ll feel better soon. I promise.”
Carrie rubbed the bony spot on her wrist and watched a red blob form on Griff’s pristine handkerchief. How much trouble could two small boys generate? Why did Joe have to get hurt when there was still so much to do? She’d cry too if it would do any good.
Griff lifted Joe and carried him to the porch swing. “You sit right here, my friend, and your brother will fetch you a drink of water. Won’t you, Caleb?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be glad to.” Caleb headed inside.
Carrie blinked. Was this the same rude, rebellious child who defied her at every turn? Griff Rutledge evidently had a way with boys as well as with horses.
Griff checked the gash on Joe’s head. “There now. The bleeding’s just about stopped. You’ll live, my man.”
Joe grinned.
Griff folded his handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket. “If you’ll make up a list, Carrie, I’ll be glad to fetch your supplies from town.”
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“No trouble at all. I’m glad to be of service.”
“Thank you. I would hate to leave with both Joe and Mary feeling unwell.”
She went inside for pencil and paper and a few minutes later handed Griff a long list. “Ask Mr. Pruitt to put these things on my bill.”
“Back before dark.” He swung into the saddle.
“You’ll stay for supper?” Carrie asked. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Appreciate the offer, but I doubt your sister-in-law would be pleased to see me. I sure would like to take you to supper at the inn sometime, though.”
Filled with heat and an inexplicable lightness, Carrie nodded. But then reality intruded. Her future spooled out in front of her, an endless procession of dreary days that left no time for even the simplest pleasures.
Would she ever have a life of her own?
TWENTY-ONE
The smell of baking bread and the spill of bright October sunshine coming through the kitchen window brought Carrie a rare moment of contentment. Until she remembered the reason for the three loaves of bread just coming out of the oven. A frown creased her brow.
“What’s the matter?” Mary shuffled from her bedroom to the kitchen, one hand pressed to the small of her back, and sat down heavily at the table. “You look like you’re angry at the whole world.”
Carrie set the last of the loaves on the windowsill and tossed her towel onto the counter.
“I told you. We’re almost broke. Another week, and the cupboards will be bare again. And I hate asking Mr. Pruitt for more credit.”
“I thought Mr. Chastain paid you to work in the bookshop. Surely you haven’t squandered it all.”
“Paying rent at the Verandah took nearly everything I had.”
“Well, that was foolish of you, wasn’t it? To pay rent to live in that rat’s nest when you had a perfectly good home right here.”
Carrie removed the loaves of bread from the pans. “You know full well why I didn’t stay.”
“Because of the boys and that silly snake?”
“It went a lot deeper than that.” Carrie took off her apron and hung it on the peg beside the door. “Is there anything you need, Mary? I must get ready and take this bread into town.”
“A fool’s errand, if you ask me. Do you really think you’ll sell it, with the bakery standing right there in the middle of town?”
“Two of the loaves are promised to Mrs. Whitcomb. She says my bread is much better than the bakery’s. I’m planning to give the other one away.”
“Give it away? When we’re down to our last dollar? What kind of sense does that make?”
“Race Day is coming up in two weeks. Jasper Pruitt is planning on making up lunchboxes to sell from the mercantile. If he likes this bread, maybe he’ll place an order.”
“Which