A Heart's Blessing - Linda Ford Page 0,16
pinch if she wanted to. “You seem to be enjoying this.”
He chuckled. “It’s been interesting. Oh, not your injury. I would never find amusement in someone’s misfortune. But your reaction has been…interesting.”
“Glad I could provide you with some entertainment.”
“The children too. I’ve enjoyed them.”
“Really?”
The level of surprise and doubt drew him to a halt. They were in front of the café and he looked down at her. “What have I done to make you think otherwise?”
The children dashed inside. Miss Fisher looked from her friend to Ryder. “I think you can manage without my help.” She slipped away.
Miss Morton caught the doorframe to steady herself and removed her hand from Ryder’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m being cross at you for no reason except I find it hard to take a man’s actions at face value.”
“Someone has shattered your trust in men. Maybe in the world.”
She lowered her gaze and then slowly lifted it to him.
He stiffened at the pain that darkened her brown eyes to the color of coal.
“I guess you could say that,” she said.
“There is no medicine to recover trust once it’s broken.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s the truth.” Her look held his, full of surprise, and perhaps a touch of acknowledgment that he understood.
He wanted to look away as his own loss and shattered trust brimmed to his eye.
“You’ve experienced it too, haven’t you?” Her words were soft, full of understanding, and they tugged at his resolve to never again trust.
Kent came to the door. “You coming in?”
Ryder blinked, feeling as if he’d been saved from a disaster. “I’ll be going home.” He strode away.
Miss Morton called after him. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner.”
“Thanks, but I have things to do.” Mostly to escape before his emotions erupted.
He didn’t slow down until he was safely in his kitchen. He plunked down on a chair and stared at the table. Both he and Cody had been victims of people’s judgement. Unfounded opinions. He’d learned to guard himself against people, and yet a few hours next door and he’d almost revealed his past. He knew how that would turn out. More judgement. More criticism. More unfounded opinions.
His legs twitched and he bolted to his feet and hurried to the cupboard to stare at the contents. His bread was gone. He’d made stew a few days ago but it was long gone. All his cupboards held were canned beans and peaches. Not exactly a tempting Sunday dinner. For a moment he regretted not accepting Miss Morton’s invitation. But only for a moment.
Food was food. He took down a can, cut it open, and ate the cold beans directly from the can without returning to the table. He did the same with the peaches. Coffee would have been good, but he didn’t want to light a fire in the stove.
His meal done, he glanced out the window toward the café. Not a soul stirred. Likely they were eating sandwiches made with thick slices of the meat from yesterday and finishing the meal with the last of that lemon pudding.
He turned his back to the window. Not that the view of his barren kitchen was any better. With determined steps, he went into the workroom, propped the door open to let in fresh air, then pulled a stool up to the wide table and took the long length of leather he meant to make into a belt. Some cowboy would be willing to pay for a belt with fancy work on it. Ryder set his tools nearby. He began by polishing his swivel knife, the long smooth movement easing away his tension. Satisfied with the blade, he began to cut the outline of his pattern.
Lost in concentration, he barely managed not to jerk in surprise when Sally spoke. “Hi.”
She stood from across the table.
He glanced at the door. At least she was alone. “Does your aunt know you’re here?”
“She’s sleeping.”
“What about Miss Fisher?”
“Her’s reading.”
“I see.” So the little gal had slipped away.
“Where’s Kent?” The boy usually kept a close watch on his sister.
“Playin’.”
“What were you supposed to be doing?” He was certain Sally had been given instructions that would keep her amused at home.
“Nothin’.”
Ryder set down his knife and studied the girl. He glanced up at the sound of horses riding by then back to Sally. Should he take her back or wait for someone to come for her?
“You wanna hear my Sunday song?” she asked. Then taking his agreement for granted, she began to sing.
Well, he could hardly tell her no