he did could be lacking in intelligence. If his impressive book collection was any indication, he was well read. The shelves on either side of the parlor fireplace were filled with titles that ranged from F. H. Bradley’s The Principles of Logic to treatises on successful farming. There were many poetry and art-related books, no doubt Emily’s. Abby tried to envision the creative Emily sharing her views on art and literature with her husband.
“I suppose you miss those discussions with Emily,” Abby said, partly to keep the conversation going and partly because she was curious about his relationship with his dead wife.
“Emily and I had few common interests,” he told her in a tone that said that line of conversation had ended.
“So,” she asked after a few uncomfortable moments, “what shall we talk about?”
“You.”
“Me?” She choked back a laugh. “There isn’t much to tell, I assure you. You’d be very bored.”
“That remains to be seen. From what you said the other day, your husband valued your comments and opinions, so I admit that I’m curious to hear some of them.” He slanted a wry look her way and added, “A bit taken aback by your forwardness, but curious nonetheless. I’m also interested as to why you agreed to help me with Betsy.”
“That’s simple,” she said with her customary bluntness. “Money.”
He shot her a shocked look. “Rachel never led me to believe you were the avaricious type.”
Again, Abby berated herself for speaking without thinking. This man was not William, and should not be answered with flippancy. “Oh, I’m not. Not really. I have little use for money for its sake, but we were forced to borrow against the farm, and the wages you’ve agreed to pay me will help me get caught up at the bank.”
Caleb frowned. “I thought you bought your place outright.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Ah. Gossip?” she challenged.
This time there was no denying his dry smile or the hint of color that crept into his lean cheeks. “The good old Wolf Creek grapevine,” he acknowledged with a nod.
“The good old Wolf Creek grapevine had it right,” she told him. “When my parents died, William and I used the money from the sale of their home to buy the farm and the equipment we’d need to farm it. And if you’ve heard that much gossip, you also know that he was a teacher, not a farmer. He had to borrow against the land.”
“I know he took a job with the Southwestern Arkansas and Indian Territory Railroad Company.”
“Yes,” Abby said quietly. Neither mentioned that William Carter had been killed a short time after his daughter’s birth while trying to connect two lumber-loaded railcars headed for an out-of-state market. Neither did Abby mention to Caleb that a few days before the accident, he had confided with an air of excitement that he had a potential buyer for the farm and he was thinking of taking the offer and moving them back to Springfield, Missouri, to be near his brother and his family.
Unfortunately, William was killed before anything could come of the deal, and Abby had no idea who the prospective buyer was.
“He should never have borrowed against the land,” Caleb said into the gathering silence.
“That’s an easy thing for someone like you to say,” she told him, the memories bringing past heartache to the surface.
“Someone like me? What does that mean?” he asked, his tone mirroring his irritation.
“Someone who has money, has always had money and who never has to worry about how to buy feed for their livestock, or put food on the table or buy shoes for their children. Someone who has options.”
Caleb didn’t comment for long moments. When he turned his head to look at her, there was genuine concern in his eyes, but Abby, who was looking out over the dew-drenched fields, didn’t see it. “So you did decide to take the job because of the money...because you had no other option.”
Her gaze flew to his. “Oh! You make it sound so mercenary. Yes, I needed the money, but I wanted to help, too. Believe it or not, I do not pull wings off butterflies, nor am I greedy and avaricious.”
Confusion filled his eyes. “I never thought you were. How have you managed these past months?”
Sensing that he was not angry, she gave a little shake of her head. “Though I hate to admit it, I’ve sold nearly everything I had that would bring a decent price.” When he made no comment, she added, “Your offer was the answer to my prayers.”
“Really?” he asked with an arched eyebrow of his own. “What took Him so long?”
“I beg your pardon,” Abby said, not following or understanding the sarcasm in his voice.
“God. What took Him so long to answer your prayers? Why didn’t He provide some sort of help sooner? Where was He when your husband died?”
Abby looked at him, taken aback. “It isn’t for us to question His plan for us,” she told him in an even tone. “Through faith, we believe that all will work out the way He wants it to, and for our benefit. And as for where He was when William died, I would imagine God was where He was when His son died.”
Caleb had the grace to look bowled over by that answer. Though he wanted to ask if she dealt with William’s loss by trusting that everything would come out all right and that something better was around the corner, he was silent.
“Surely you believe in God.” The statement was simple and to the point.
“I suppose so,” he said with a negligent lift of broad shoulders. “It’s just that my brother and I were taught to rely on ourselves, so I haven’t had many dealings with God.”
“On the contrary,” she argued, wondering how he’d lost his mother. “You deal with Him many times a day. Every day. Just look around you! It’s beautiful!” Abby spread her arms wide, encouraging him to look at the world around him, to see and acknowledge the glory of it all.
But Caleb wasn’t looking at the fallow fields or the red and gold of the changing leaves. He was looking at Abby. Bonnet-free, she had thrown back her head and lifted her face to the soft shine of the sun. A capricious breeze had tugged tendrils of blond hair from the coil at the nape of her neck and whipped delicate rose color into her cheeks. For the first time, he realized that Abigail Carter was a very pretty woman.
Caleb forced his eyes back to the road. “Yes. It is beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.
Abby glanced at him, saw the set of his jaw and decided that she’d said enough on the subject for the moment. She knew from past experience that the best way to teach was by example. There would be plenty of time to show him in small ways that God was present and working in his life.
* * *
Almost a week had gone by since she and Caleb had made the trip to her place. The intervening days had passed quickly, and things had been going as well as could be expected. Abby’s new routine had taken on a familiar rhythm as she grew accustomed to her new station in life and her new home. So far, neither Ben nor Laura had done anything else to antagonize the prickly Mr. Gentry.
As was her custom, Abby spent thirty minutes each night with Ben in Bible study. On two separate occasions, she had looked up and seen Caleb leaning against the doorjamb of his study, arms folded across his chest, listening as she read or questioned Ben about certain verses. He never commented, and on both occasions, he had quickly shut the door, bade them good-night and headed for the bunkhouse.
Today he was going into town for some feed and to pick up some pantry items Abby needed. When he came into the kitchen to tell her he was leaving, she said, “If you have time, I was wondering if you’d deliver a message for me.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he only nodded. “I’d be glad to.”
“I’m