on her own, but suddenly accepting Linc’s offer to help seemed the wisest thing in the world. It would enable her to get the garden in sooner, which was good.
When he told her about his father and brother, she sensed a man who valued his family above people’s opinions. She respected him for that.
He strode to the edge of the garden and began turning over the soil.
Robbie stood before the hole he’d dug. “You can’t touch my fort.” His expression dared anyone to do so. Sally knew he would fly into a rage if they did.
Linc leaned on the shovel, his expression serious, and pushed his hat back to reveal a white forehead. Brown dirt dusted the rest of his face, and a thin layer wrapped about his pant.
Sally smiled gently. The man could look as handsome in work-soiled clothes as in a polished and pressed suit.
He nodded toward Robbie. “I respect a man who defends his property.”
Robbie’s expression revealed confusion. “What’s that mean?”
Linc scratched his hairline and seemed to consider his answer with due seriousness. “It means I think it’s a good thing you want to protect what you’ve made.”
“It is?” Robbie suddenly stood up straighter. “I sure ’nough plan to do that.” He picked up a stick and brandished it like a weapon.
Linc held up a hand. “Now hang on a minute. Did I threaten your fort? Did I say I was going to mow it down? No. I listened to your words. No need to get physical when your words work.”
Robbie dropped his weapon.
Linc returned to digging, his back muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his faded brown shirt.
Sally stared. The McCoys had a reputation for taking things. What no one had said, perhaps had not noticed, was this McCoy had a way of giving things. He’d given Robbie the assurance his words could convey his desires. He’d given Sally a feeling of safety.
Now why had she thought such a foolish thing?
She spun around and stared at the house, as if it provided the answer to her question. Just because Linc knew what to say to Robbie to defuse his anger did not mean he offered safety. Safety meant a house. Assurance of staying in one place. Steady employment. Enough to eat.
Her heart burned within her at a rush of other unnamed, unidentifiable things that safety and security meant. She grabbed the rake and smoothed the garden soil behind Linc.
He turned. “I can do that.” His voice rang with amusement and so much more.
She stopped and considered him. Did he think she needed protecting?
No one had thought so since Father died, and a lump lodged in the back of her throat. She swallowed hard. “Is there something wrong with the way I’m doing it?” Confusion made her words sharp.
He studied her, a grin slowly wreathing his face. “Can’t say as I ever considered there might be a right or wrong way to rake.” He leaned on the shovel and contemplated the idea. “I suppose if you had the tines upward. Or tried to use the handle—”
Her tension disappeared and she laughed. “You’re teasing.”
“Seems like a good idea if it makes you laugh. You should laugh more often, don’t you think?” Without waiting for her to say anything, he turned back to digging.
She stared at his back. Didn’t she laugh often enough? Or was he saying he liked hearing the sound of her amusement? Perhaps liked making her happy? As she bent to resume raking, she tried to think how she felt about the idea. No one else seemed to care if she laughed or enjoyed life. Abe certainly didn’t. Seems all he cared about was if she kept his life orderly.
There she was again, comparing Abe to another. It didn’t escape her troubled thoughts that this time it wasn’t her father but a man hired to do chores.
She banged a clump of dirt with the rake, taking out her annoyance on the soil. She knew what she wanted and how to get it. And it wasn’t by comparing poor, unsuspecting Abe to every man she knew or met.
Linc worked steadily up the length of the garden, turning over clumps of dry hard dirt. She followed, smoothing the soil for planting. Without rain she would have to baby the plants along with rationed bits of water, the same as she did at home.
Neither spoke as they worked. Crows flapped overhead, cawing. The wind sighed through the grass and moaned around the buildings. Robbie yelled some sort of challenge to an unseen intruder. Sally paused to watch the boy.
Linc had stopped, too, and grinned at Robbie’s play. Then turned his smile toward Sally, capturing her in a shiny moment.
The amusement they shared made her eyes watery, and she turned away. The feeling was more than amusement but she refused to acknowledge it. She riveted her attention to Robbie.
He leaped out of his dirt fort and charged at the invisible foe, brandishing the same stick he had waved at Linc. He turned, saw them watching and lowered his weapon. Then determination filled his eyes and he marched toward Sally, his stick held like a sword. “You are my captive. I will take you to my fort. You will stay with me until someone rescues you.” He shot Linc a narrow-eyed look.
Sally backed away, uncertain how to respond.
Linc straightened and grew serious. “Never fear, fair maiden. I will rescue you from your wild captor.”
She giggled and allowed Robbie to shepherd her into his fort. The hole might be the right size for a five-year-old but barely accommodated her legs, so she stood awkwardly while Robbie guarded her from the solid ground of the garden. They were on eye level with each other, close enough that she saw the mixture of excitement and worry in his eyes. She understood how badly he wanted to play, yet couldn’t believe any adult would play with him. When had she ever seen Abe play with the boy? Never. When did she play with him? Almost never. Sure, she read to him. Gave him crayons and coloring books. Even helped him do jigsaw puzzles, but she had never romped with him. Why not? Father had played with her and her sisters. She could remember games of tag and hide-and-seek. He’d even taught them to play ball and croquet.
Her thoughts stalled as Linc crouched low and worked his way cautiously to the edge of the garden. “Someone has captured my fair maiden,” he murmured. “I must rescue her before she is harmed.”
Robbie pressed a hand to his mouth to silence his excitement and wriggled with delight.
Linc pretended to search behind a clump of grass. “Where can they have taken her?” Keeping low, he ran to the shed and opened the door. “Maybe they will capture me, too. I should hide.” He darted inside and pulled the door shut.
Silence followed his disappearance.
Robbie stood stock-still, seemed to consider his next move then yelled out in his fiercest voice. “Mister, I got your lady over here.”
The door cracked open. Linc peeked out, and seemed surprised to see Robbie and Sally. “The fair maiden. I will come to her rescue.” He emerged, brandishing a length of wood matching Robbie’s. He planted one hand on his hip and danced forward in some kind of fancy step while waving his wooden sword. “I challenge you to a duel. Come out and face me like a man.”
Sally chuckled softly, but her enjoyment ran much deeper than amusement. Linc made a mighty impressive swashbuckler.
Robbie, holding his sword high, stepped forward, meeting Linc at the edge of the garden. Crack. Whack. The swords crashed against each other.
Sally sat on the edge of the hole, grinning at the pair. One thing about Linc—he seemed to know how to have fun. He also knew how to talk to Robbie in such a way as to bring out the best in him. Guess she’d have to give him credit for being loyal to his family, as well. It couldn’t have been easy to bring his father back to a place where he knew he’d face censure. But he’d returned so his father could recover … die … in comfort. Her eyes stung with unshed