teach you,” Jack promised.
Reggie gave Jack’s shoulders a light squeeze then stepped back and dropped her hands. “You go along and help Ira put away the fishing gear. Then see if Mrs. Peavy needs any kindling brought in.”
She turned to the others. “I’m afraid we live a pretty simple life out here. Not much to offer you in the way of fancy amenities, and everyone pitches in to help with the chores. There’s a place around back where you can feed and tend to your horses. Then you can get washed up down by the lake if you’ve a mind to.”
“I’ll take care of the horses and the buggy,” Mr. Parker volunteered.
Adam straightened. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of Trib myself.”
“Come along then,” Ira instructed. “Jack and I’ll show you where we keep the feed.”
Reggie watched them disappear around the corner, then turned to her two remaining guests. “You’ll find some buckets on the other side of the porch. I’d appreciate it if you’d each grab one and go down to the lake to fetch some fresh water. We’ll be needing it to clean the dishes and the like later.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Chance immediately stood and reached for his still-damp boot.
Mr. Fulton didn’t respond right away, but at her unblinking stare, he finally gave a short, mocking bow and turned to grab the bucket.
As the two headed down the trail, Reggie found herself alone for the first time since the men had swooped into her life like hounds on the scent of game.
Feeling suddenly tired beyond reckoning, she sagged down on the porch step and put her chin on her knees.
It wasn’t fair! The pieces of her life had just started to fall into place. With Lemuel’s passing, God rest his soul, she was independent, answerable to no one for the first time in her twenty-three years. Her grandfather had known how restricted she felt living in her brother-in-law’s household, and how she’d only stayed there to be close to Jack.
Now, to have that sweet, newfound freedom snatched away before she’d had time to truly savor it was more than cruel. It was downright spiteful.
Grandfather, why did you do this to me?
Chapter Five
As Adam followed Ira and Jack around the cabin, he studied the older man, trying to sort through the jumble of contradictory impressions he presented.
Though nearly bald and sporting a chin full of gray whiskers, the housekeeper’s husband was as spry as a schoolboy. His leathery skin and crow’s feet were offset by eyes that shone as blue and clear as a newborn’s.
Slightly built and a head shorter than Adam, he had a puckish quality about him. Maybe it had something to do with that glint of a gold tooth Adam had spotted earlier, or with the abundance of laugh lines bracketing his mouth.
A flash of color distracted Adam from his musings.
What in the world...
He stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the exotic contraption perched beside the small feed crib.
It was a wagon, he finally decided. But he’d never seen its like outside of a circus parade. To call it gaudy was doing it a kindness.
From this angle, only the back and part of one side was visible, but it was enough. More than enough. Not only was the caravan-style conveyance painted in garish shades of green, maroon and gold, but it was constructed in an overblown design, complete with exuberant scrollwork and elaborately carved panels.
“What kind of rig is that?”
Adam tore his gaze away from the flamboyant sight long enough to glance at Mitchell over his shoulder. The man wore a bemused, dumbfounded expression. Adam realized his own was probably similar.
“Looks like a circus wagon,” he said, stroking Trib’s nose. “Though what it’s doing out here—”
Ira, dusting his hands after sliding the fishing poles up under the eaves of the crib, grinned. “I see you spied Reggie’s photography wagon. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”
Photography wagon? Adam led Trib forward with a click of his tongue. “Did she inherit it from her father?”
The balding leprechaun cackled. “You didn’t know Reggie’s daddy, did you? Warren Nash would never have been caught driving such a fanciful contraption as this. Plain and simple was more his style.”
Ira Peavy patted the wagon as if it were an old friend. “No, Reggie designed this herself after one of them traveling circuses passed through here.”
She’d actually intended it to look like this? Miss Nash was either as bereft of taste as she was of singing ability, or she had a wicked sense of humor.
“It’s the fanciest wagon in all of Turnabout,” Jack announced proudly. “Everyone stops to stare when we pass by.”
“That I’ll believe,” Mitchell muttered.
“So, your aunt’s a photographer, is she?” Adam asked Jack.
“Yes, sir. Photographs people mostly. But she does plants and animals, too. Some of ’em turn out real pretty.” He gave Adam a big smile. “I’ll bet she’d be glad to take a picture of you and your friends if you wanted.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Adam responded noncommittally. He knew her father had been a photographer, and Judge Madison had mentioned something about her following in her father’s footsteps. But Adam had assumed it was a slightly eccentric pastime of hers, something she toyed with when she was bored, the way other women did with watercolors or the piano.
But if she’d gone to the trouble of designing her own wagon...
“You’ll find feed for the horses over here,” Ira said, interrupting Adam’s thoughts. “You can water them down by the lake and there’s lots of good grazing there as well. I’m afraid the lean-to is only big enough for our two horses, so you’ll have to tether yours under the trees tonight. Weather’s fair, though, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Mitchell set to work unhitching the horse from the buggy. “We appreciate your hospitality,” he said over his shoulder.
Before Adam could unsaddle Trib, he found Jack at his elbow. “Mighty fine-looking horse you got there, mister.”
The youngster’s words might mimic something he’d heard an adult say, but the look on his face was pure wide-eyed, little-boy awe.
“Thanks.” Adam offered Jack a friendly smile. Winning the boy’s trust was important right now. It might make things easier on both of them later on if this marriage scheme fell apart. “Maybe I’ll let you ride him sometime before I head back to Philadelphia,” he added.
Jack’s face split in a wide grin. “Jiminy! Did you hear that, Ira? Dewey Jenkins is gonna be toad-green jealous when he sees me riding this horse.”
“I heard,” Ira answered. “But don’t forget you’ve got to get your Aunt Reggie to agree first.”
Adam frowned, studying Ira’s expression. Had he said that because Miss Nash was overly cautious where her nephew was concerned? Or had the older man picked up on the fact that she distrusted Adam and wouldn’t think highly of any plan he put forward that involved Jack?
Jack, however, seemed unworried. “Aw, Aunt Reggie won’t mind. She was talking the other day about how I was the man of the family now and all.”
Ira squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll see.” Then he gave the boy a mild swat on the seat of his pants. “Now off with you and fetch that kindling like your aunt asked. Don’t want to be holding up supper.”
With a nod and a wave, Jack headed for the wood stacked near the cabin’s back door.
Ira