The Secret Touch of Mary Kincaid Read online

  Unable to help herself she furrowed her eyebrows. “He is.”

  “Ahhh…something is wrong.”

  Distracted by being uncomfortable with his observation, she busied herself by intertwining fingers through the horse’s mane, as if he needed soothing. “He seems to believe that I can’t make it through the winter without a…” She cleared her throat, loathe to say the word. “A husband!”

  In a hushed tone he agreed. “That seems to be the way around here, Mary. Nothing wrong with two people partnering together.”

  “I don’t want to partner with someone.”

  “It is all right to do it for survival. It helps more than just one of you. A man wants to be respected, to feel as though he is needed. Nothing wrong with Graham’s assertion.”

  Highly offended by this whole affair, she readied again to climb atop the buckboard. “Reverend Palmer, it is a good fortune that I like you.”

  He laughed softly at first, then fully robust. Oh the biddies in town will have a heyday with this scenario. She could hear them now… “That Mary Kincaid is on her way to soiling up our preacher!”

  “Think on it, Mary, as harsh as it is. I wish it were different, but it is not.”

  Once seated, she peered down at the kind man of God. “It don’t matter if I agree with you or not, Reverend. Ain’t no man around would have me.”

  With a cluck of the tongue and a light snap of the reins, she was off, leaving him to stand in her dust to accept that truth.

  *****

  Mary worked her horse harder than usual in order to get back to the farm. With the interruption of the reverend, she was afraid Millie Averson wouldn’t wait for her. Millie wasn’t the most patient person in the world, and contrary to her looking like a sweet old lady, she was the cranky sort. But with the lack of friends Mary had, or didn’t have, she couldn’t be too choosy about her standing meeting every Sunday with the widow.

  As she neared the farm she received an unwanted revelation and saw it for what is was, dilapidating, dreary and doing everything but thriving. Had she been so resistant to losing Liang that she’d refused to see things as they were? They’d always lived simply, only taking what was needed to survive. But now she saw what she called her farm to be nothing but a beaten down homestead and a barn that didn’t look like it might last another season.

  Distracting her from reality, she was grateful that Millie was just now dismounting from her mule and that she hadn’t had to wait. Stubborn Luck was the mule’s name—fitting for the pair of them.

  Mary called out a greeting, smiled and hurriedly rubbed down her horse, feeling the pressure of Millie tapping her foot in rapid succession upon her porch. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

  Millie, who decidedly had about as many friends as she did herself, roughly handed over payment. Fresh bread and strawberry-rhubarb jam. “Oh my favorite, bless you!”

  Helping herself inside the cabin, Millie headed straight toward the cot, prepared in advance. “Foot’s been giving me more grief. I wish I could make it out your way more than on a Sunday. But I got that no good son of mine shacking up with me and he ain’t no help. Instead of me livin’ out my days resting and doing mindless needlework, I gotta take care of a grown man!” Millie’s eyes narrowed in on her and for the first time suggested the unthinkable. “Why hadn’t I thought on this before? You got yourself a nice place here and no man to take care of you…”

  Mary drew herself up straight. “There is no need for you to finish that thought Millie

  Averson! You just said so yourself that he ain’t no good. Why on earth would you think I’d want him?” She placed a small pillow on the cot and calmed herself by slowly breathing in and out. “Now get yourself settled and place your foot upon the pillow like you do.”

  Although she still felt Millie’s eyes upon her, she refused another word on the offending subject. Thankfully it was not broached again, though Mary could just about hear the old woman mulling it over. She was willing to bet that she probably wished she’d never cursed her son just now.

  As Mary tugged on toes and used her thumb to dig into the ball of her foot, Millie turned to mush. She couldn’t help but smile. On occasion, she wondered how it felt. Never needing it done to herself she might not ever know. However, she took blessed pleasure in bringing others to such a lax state, her heart going out to those who worked so hard to make ends meet.

  “Mary Kincaid…I don’t care what they say about you…you…are…simply…wonderful.”

  ***

  Chapter Eight

  Come a few days later there was a chill in the air. The threat of moving to town lingered heavy over Mary just as the gray sky did. It would sure be snowing in a week’s time. Winter always arrived in a ferocious manner, never paying heed to nobody but herself, as if to say, “I’m swooping in—ready or not!” Well Mary was not ready, and although she might not live in the prettiest place on the prairie, she wasn’t prepared to let up from digging in her heels.

  She plucked the ax from the porch and made way to chop wood until she dropped. Going into the barn she took inventory. There were three whole logs wedged in the corner and she wagered she’d need a few dozen more to make it to spring. Frustration squeezed her insides. Had Liang always done so much? She carried her weight, hadn’t she? If she had money she could hire one of the Longmire boys to bring her some trees, but money was as far away from her as was heat pouring from her woodstove. She loathed asking Graham for help—he’d sooner bring her a man than a tree and that wasn’t going to happen.

  Walking up to the logs, she managed to roll one away from the other two. With all of her might, she came down with the ax. It left a small dent. Undeterred she swung again and again until a portion of the log split off from the whole.

  Heaving, she encouraged herself, “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere!”

  Two hours later she had six small logs, which she dragged through the dirt toward the stump used for butchering. Splitting wood was something she knew how to do. And just as she’d earlier told herself, she chopped until she dropped. But when she did, her porch was laden with a whole two stacks of firewood. That was about a day’s heat—she tried not to turn to discouragement.

  When she was at the end of herself physically and emotionally, she finally sat down with her Bible and spoke a prayer, something she might have thought to do before now. “Lord, I get so caught up in my independence…but I want to do Your will, not mine. Amen.”

  She looked around the farm she and Liang created over the years and it hit her how much Graham contributed to their survival. Liang had disguised it well. Perhaps he’d had his own thorn of pride to deal with, wanting her to believe they could take care of themselves. Eyeing with disdain the poorly stacked piles of wood signifying an entire day’s work, she knew she needed to seek a place at the boardinghouse. She was sure Graham would take her chickens and care for her horse. She drew in a breath. She could do this—it was only for the winter. Two things were for sure, Graham would not be footing no boardinghouse tab or making her some poor soul’s bride!

  She went through the cabin and couldn’t decide what to sell. Plagued with holding onto everything attached to a good memory, she was unable to bring herself to depart from much. All of her books were too precious. The dress she wore much to Graham’s displeasure, Liang brought home from a trip to the big city, Cheyenne. Although it was years ago, it was the loveliest thing she’d ever owned. Never would she sell it or her books. Rifling through some of his things, she decided that he had owned a good pair of overalls and had a sturdy saddle. It pained her beyond measure, but she had to pay for the room and board. Silly as it was, a touch of anger nagged at her over Liang dying in the first place. It just wasn’t fair. Adding a few more items to the small pile, she readied for town to see what Frederick might offer her for the lot.

  Bundled against the brisk wind, with eggs and pieces of her past in tow, Mary made it to the mercantile. The last thing she needed to add to her day was a r
un in with Seth Hatchett. And yet, that’s just who she saw through Frederick’s window.

  *****

  Seth made his way to Mary. Clearly she’d laid eyes on him and he had no choice but to offer his assistance while she struggled to retrieve a crate from her buckboard. “Please, allow me.” He practically nudged her aside and grabbed the sides of the crate, heaved it over the side and landed it with a thud onto the boardwalk. No way could she have done that herself. She was stubborn as a mule!

  “Where is your destination with this?” he asked, repositioning it within his grasp.

  She hesitated.

  Why so secretive? “Well?”

  “Into Frederick’s.”

  It seemed some of the fight in her had been lost. Still, he didn’t want to become entangled in anything pertaining to Mary Kincaid. He was doing his duty as a gentleman—he’d leave no woman to haul such a load, no matter what they did for a living.

  “If you could just deposit it here.” She pointed to the floor near the door. “I’ll fetch Frederick. I’m obliged for your help.”

  He was not to be dismissed, even though he had his own errands to run and supplies to gather for his uncle. To put distance between them, he could go to the postal office and tailor and return when she was gone. But he couldn’t seem to pull himself from her look of desolation, curiosity kept him within hearing range of her conversation with Frederick.

  “Would you see to Liang’s items? Anything you could use or resell, I would be obliged.”

  “You have need of money, Mary?”

  Seth cringed. The conversation was surely meant to be private and here he was lurking around. Ducking out of sight, knowing she would not have wanted him to witness the transaction. He bent down low until he was level with the bottom shelf, coming face to face with jars of pickled eggs. He disliked anything pickled and turned away from the grotesque looking eggs. Biding his time until negotiations took place and the object of his nosiness had departed the store. Before he could rise fully from the ground, a pair of boots halted in front of him. “Can I help you with anything?”

  He looked up at the mercantile owner and felt like the snake he was. “I’ll take a jar of these eggs.”

  *****

  The moment Seth arrived at the ranch he found his uncle in the training arena. “She needs money.”

  Pulling his eyes away from the wild stallion, his uncle asked, “Who is she?”

  “Mary.”

  “How do you assume to know what she needs? I take care of her needs. Do not worry yourself about her.”

  Clearly Uncle Graham was still sore at him for his previous judgments. “I don’t plan on worrying about her, but I saw what I saw. She was selling personal items to Frederick’s Mercantile.”

  Graham’s attention grew fully. “Why would she do something like that? Stubborn fool!”

  It appeared it was fine for Graham to berate Mary, but his lips had to be sealed when it came to criticizing her. Did she even realize how protected she was?

  “See that the horse is put away. I’m going to Mary’s.”

  Seth obeyed the order, then made his way back to the house, where he found Mary in the kitchen. It seemed she had found his uncle first. She was wearing that dreadful dress again, and he wanted to know why she was so attached to it. Unable to become obscure now, he could do nothing but linger, unless he was to be outright rude.

  “They’re my chickens. I only want you to care for them over the winter.” She fixed a hard gaze onto his rough and tough uncle. Seth controlled a forthcoming grin.

  “Mary, whether or not I take your chickens, I will not have you wasting away in your cabin! How can you be so daft? You needn’t sell your things, I was going to pay for the boardinghouse!”

  She cast a glance at Seth, identifying his intrusion. Was she about to cry?

  “You win, Graham. This daft little girl has already made arrangements with Mrs. Hines. She didn’t much want me, but money’s money and it seems she’ll take mine! I’ll be at the boardinghouse come next week.” She stormed past Seth. Surely she didn’t wish him to notice the tear sliding down her pink cheek—but he did and it brought compassion.

  In wonder, he looked to his uncle. What to do? Why should she evoke any emotion from him? He hardly knew her. But concern is what he felt, and when his uncle went to go after her, Seth stopped him. “Perhaps I can go?”

  Graham’s eyes softened and he nodded. “She’s only doing what I demanded of her. But blast it all, it was for her own good!”

  He stayed him by his hand upon his shoulder. “I know it is. She will come to see as well.”

  “It’s so hard on her in town, Seth. You don’t understand.”

  Outright conviction constricted in his chest. He did understand—he’d been no better than others. He followed after her.

  “Mary…Mary slow down!”

  She spun around, anger spilling hotly. “What do you want?”

  Halting before her he said, “He means well.”

  “I don’t like ultimatums!”

  He wouldn’t either. “I understand.”

  She managed to chuckle at the absurdity. “I doubt that.”

  Feeling eyes upon them he looked around. A few ranch hands gathered around the display of an emotional woman. She was not for their entertainment. “Come back inside, please.”

  “I won’t. I’ve nothing to say to your uncle.”

  “Then allow me to escort you home.”

  Warily she peered at him, most likely gauging his intentions. “There’s no need…”

  “Trust me, I am aware.”

  “So long as you are aware, then I’ll accept.”

  *****

  What had she been thinking? Mary assumed by going to Graham and releasing her chickens into his care that he would buckle and not allow her to move to town. She’d been dead wrong. Why was he so set on this husband hunting? Did he not believe in love? The only reason she was moving to town was to be in obedience to God’s will. She knew He set Graham in her life for a purpose and defying him did not appear to be the honorable thing to do, but still, she could hope he’d changed his mind along the way.

  Now, his nephew with his handsome features and kind eyes was sitting beside her—awfully close to boot—and she was horrified because he apparently knew what this ultimatum was. She knew so by the disturbed look he wore on his own face when she mentioned it. The last thing she wanted was pity. Oh it was so much easier being alone!

  ***

  Chapter Nine

  The resistance she received from not only Mrs. Hines, owner of the boardinghouse, but other boarders after she moved in was smothering. Mary was miserable—how could she deal with this? They were thick as thieves, and unless food was served to her room, she couldn’t avoid them forever. Donning her frumpiest dress, she made her way down the stairs for an inevitably staunch dinner. She was prepared for little to no conversation with the other guests. The ministry she was led to do was considered improper and she accepted that. Then the true test came for her resolved faith, the moment Liang released her to treat her first patient, Graham. He’d been flipped onto his back by an unruly, wild horse. By then Liang had trained her fingers and hands to do “good work,” he’d said.

  As she looked at the haughty and upturned noses around the dining table, she wished he’d never taught her the good work. It was easier to bear when alone in a cabin, hidden away from prying eyes and gossiping tongues. The uneasiness she felt at partaking of a meal with folks who did not desire her presence was constricting. It was all she could do to remain and eat. Though nausea had worked its way to her stomach, the rumblings of hunger overruled and she had to eat. Quietly she waited for a dish of roasted vegetables to be passed her way. A pang of longing to harvest her own vegetables settled upon her—and she had no desire to converse after all, even if someone at the table had meant to.

  *****

  The next morning proved no better, even though Graham came by after she broke the fast a
nd offered to escort her to church. Torn between being angry at him and blaming him for her current disappointment, and desiring to be amongst the sounds of hymns, she decided to go along. He appeared to regret his strong position, and his own look of misery was enough to justify her rightness.

  Although there was a light mist of dew upon the ground, they opted to walk. “Come to the ranch,” he offered quite desperately. “You don’t belong there amongst those hoity toities!”

  She hooked her arm through his and felt a rush of satisfaction at his admission. He looked at her arm but misread her gesture. He asked, “I take this as a yes?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “No. I will stay here until spring.” She freed herself and looked at him fiercely, “but I’m comin’ home come spring!”

  His brow furrowed in disagreement. “You’re sure you won’t come live at the ranch?”

  “I need to make my own way.”

  He chuckled. “It’s settled then. Your home is on the farm…when the snow thaws.”

  “That’s what I said!” she added for good measure.

  They reached the church and only a few eyes bore upon her. Not everyone was bold enough to show the displeasure of her company in front of Graham Hatchett. He didn’t attend church regularly, leaving her to their vice-like judgments more often than not, but today he was by her side and that added strength to her confidence. Decidedly, he thought to bring her to the front pew, but she dug in her heels and sent a silent plea his way.

  No, the back.

  But he wouldn’t have it. She had no choice, lest she pull even more eyes their way. She acquiesced until she saw Seth waiting for them. Her eyes landed on his attire, and although it was a brief glance, she memorized the tailored suit with pinstripes that one would only see in a Sears Roebuck catalog. But along with such a fancy suit was a set of fine cowboy boots. Her stomach knotted as Graham deposited her next to his nephew, who promptly leaned close in a friendly manner. “I’ve yet to see you out of that girlish dress.” His eyes roamed down the length of her. “I like this one.”

  Why he should like any of her clothing items was beyond her. Still, as he relayed such an innocent compliment, joy consumed her. She was wearing something from the bottom of the trunk she’d found when searching through Liang’s things. A calico dress imprinted with faint yellow daises and wildflowers. It was feminine and when she got dressed for church this morning it seemed appropriate. And she’d been right.