A Heart's Blessing - Linda Ford Page 0,26

at the moment but the woodbox needed to be refilled and the ladies would be needing more water by now.

Thankfully, Miss Morton didn’t forbid Kent to accompany him as he set about doing those chores. It gave him plenty of opportunity to scan their surroundings for intruders.

All the while he felt Miss Morton watching him from the kitchen window.

Delcie stared out the window. “I’m not comfortable with the way Kent has attached himself to that man.” Nor Sally either.

“All we can do is be cautious. So long as we can see the pair of them.” Laura stood beside Delcie.

“The trouble is, we can’t stand guard at the window and also do our work.”

Laura chuckled. “You can peel potatoes there. I’ll do the other stuff.”

So they worked out a system that allowed one or the other to be where they could see out the window. It wasn’t ideal when it came to getting the work done but they managed.

Mr. Remington was chopping wood.

Delcie was grateful to him for doing that task. None of the ladies were good at it nor did they make the wood fly at the rate he did.

Kent and Mr. Remington returned with their arms full. The latter dusted himself off and headed to the sickroom. Delcie had checked on the preacher several times. Still so motionless. Only once had he roused, and his protests had been weak.

She followed Mr. Remington into the sickroom and stood beside him to study the preacher. “I don’t like it. He seems to be getting worse.” She told him how she’d noted that his spells of consciousness were fewer and far between and his movements when he did come to were getting more and more feeble.

“I thought the same. Let’s pray for the man.” He bowed his head. “Our Father, who art in heaven, see this servant of Yours who has been set upon by thieves. We have done all we can, which is pitifully little. But nothing is too hard for You. We humbly ask for him to be restored to full health. Amen.”

Delcie fought an inner battle. How could this man who snuck around looking where he shouldn’t, pray so…so trustingly? He’d said talking to Sally had made him remember things he had once believed and pushed aside.

Robert had been a faithful churchgoer. But come to think of it, she couldn’t recall a single time he had prayed aloud or even suggested prayer. Could be she had thought more highly of him than he deserved.

The dining room door opened and closed. The soft shuffle of feet made her aware it wasn’t a cowboy in hard-heeled boots. “We aren’t serving breakfast.” She hurried out to inform the visitor of the fact. “Burnsie!” Was there something wrong to bring him over here so early?

“I need to talk to Ryder.”

“He’s with the preacher.” She led him to the bedroom and stood aside.

Both men glanced at her, silently dismissing her. They would have to be a lot more direct if they wanted her to leave.

Burnsie cleared his throat. “Miss, what I got to say is for Ryder’s ears only.”

The look she gave them both should have made them squirm, but they didn’t. Either they were oblivious, or she needed to work on her I’m-not-pleased look. “Humph.” She left the room, taking her time, as if her limp slowed her considerably more than it had a few minutes ago.

“They told me to leave,” she groused to Laura.

Laura looked at the door. “Can we overhear them if we’re quiet?”

They both strained that direction. But the voices were only a murmur. Delcie was half tempted to tiptoe closer but her conscience wouldn’t allow her to do so. Besides, she trusted Burnsie. So she’d have to believe that the two of them were not up to something harmful. Still, she didn’t like secrets.

Burnsie left the room, called good-bye to Laura and Delcie, and went out the dining room door.

The kitchen had grown hot with the stove belting out heat. They threw open the windows and door to let in a breeze. It also let in the noise of many animals, the rattle and creak of moving wagons, the raucous voices of men, and the snap of whips.

Delcie and Laura looked at each other and at the same time spoke their observation. “A mule train.” The arrival of a mule train toward noon usually meant a crowd for the meal. “We better get to work,” Delcie said.

They hustled about adding to the meal they had begun. The bread had