The Preacher’s Daughter Page 13

  “Don’t reckon I’ve heard. You might ask Ellie. Not hungry?”

  She glanced over. “Not so much.”

  He could see she was itchin’ to get out on that dance floor. He could really go for a cup of coffee and a piece of cake, but first things first. He wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Want to dance?”

  Lorabeth turned to him. “Oh, yes!”

  He took her by the hand and led her into the throng of couples moving to the lively strains of a song she’d never heard. She glanced at the others beside them, then tried to move the same way they were.

  “Don’t think about your feet so much,” Benjamin told her, holding his elbows out and his back straight. “We’ll just do an easy count. Think about moving toward the side and then back this way. One two three four, one two three four.”

  It only took a few minutes for her to fall into the pattern and feel comfortable dancing. Benjamin’s patience and gentle guidance touched her. One by one he was giving her experiences that had been out of her reach. Lorabeth felt part of this community for the first time. No longer was she the preacher’s invisible daughter. She wished Simon could be here.

  By the next song, she laughed and spared glances at the other dancers and the musicians. Fiddle under his chin, Flynn grinned at her as his fingers flew, and he wielded the bow with expertise she hadn’t imagined he possessed.

  “How did your brother learn to play like that?”

  “Caleb’s dad first taught him to pick, and then Ellie got lessons for him. He’s quite the fiddle player, isn’t he? Look there.” He nodded in the direction he wanted her to turn.

  A row of schoolgirls with ribbons tied at the end of their braids stood beside the platform, some talking behind their hands, others swaying to the music. When Flynn played a particularly difficult sequence of notes, they clapped and cheered.

  Lorabeth met Benjamin’s amused gaze with a laugh.

  “It’s just as you said!”

  His expression was warm as he studied his brother.

  “He’s gonna be a fine man. Caleb and Matthew have been good influences.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “You’re closer to him than anyone, aren’t you?”

  His bright blue eyes seemed to darken somewhat at her comment. “He’ll grow up better’n me.”

  “I don’t know that there are any men finer than you, Benjamin.”

  His gaze locked on hers. “I’ve never enjoyed myself at one of these the way I am tonight,” he told her.

  The music slowed, and a few of the dancers left the floor, but Benjamin placed his arm behind her back and gave her a reassuring smile. She could smell the starch in his shirt, feel the controlled strength of his arms, and her heart beat as fast as it had when he’d kissed her. She could remain like this forever and never tire of his arms around her.

  A couple of songs later he said, “I know you could probably do this all evenin’, but I need somethin’ to drink.”

  “I’m thirsty, too.”

  He poured her a jar of lemonade and sweetened a cup of coffee for himself. Caleb and Ellie were sitting side by side, the baby on Ellie’s lap, watching the dancers when Benjamin and Lorabeth approached.

  “I’ll hold Madeline for a while,” she told Ellie. “You two go dance.”

  “This is your night, Lorabeth,” Ellie objected.

  “And I’m having a wonderful time,” she said. “But we’re going to rest and have our refreshments, so you two take some time for yourselves.”

  Ellie handed Madeline over with a grateful smile, and the two of them threaded their way onto the floor.

  Madeline was awake, and had probably just nursed, because she looked sleepy-eyed and content. She blinked up at Lorabeth and the side of her tiny wet mouth slid into a grin. Lorabeth kissed her soft warm head and placed her over her shoulder, snuggled in the blanket. The baby smelled like fresh laundry, warm milk and possessed a sweet fragrance all her own. Her slight weight was a welcome presence against Lorabeth’s breast.

  Benjamin sipped his coffee and looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher. Someone had placed two slices of layered white cake with a berry filling in front of them.

  “You going to try that?” she asked.

  “What about your pumpkin pie?”

  “I can make you one anytime. You may never get to try this again.”

  He picked up a fork and took a piece of cake, but instead of eating it, he held the bite toward her. “You first.”

  She opened her mouth and took his offering, sweet and delicious with a mouthwatering raspberry bite. “Mmm.” She chewed slowly and swallowed. “Delicious.”

  “More?”

  She nodded.

  He fed her several more bites before trying the cake himself, then started on the second slice. “Are you having a good time?” he asked.

  “I am.” A couple caught her attention. “Look.”

  He turned his head.

  Carrie and Ida were dancing together, laughing as though they were schoolgirls. Parker and Zeta worked their way through the crowd to find a spot beside them. Lorabeth was glad Benjamin hadn’t wanted to play their silly games tonight. She was delighted to have him all to herself.

  Someone moved up beside Benjamin then, and she glanced up at Carter. “Care to dance, Lorabeth?” he asked.

  She looked from Carter’s boyish face to Benjamin’s. She’d been content right here, but she didn’t want to be rude.

  Benjamin’s expression was unreadable, but he reached for Madeline and cradled the baby in the crook of his left arm as capably as you please. “Go ahead. I’ll stay here until Ellie comes back.”

  Madeline gazed up at him with a little furrow between her brows, then sleepily closed her eyes. Obviously content, she moved her lips in an endearing little sucking motion.

  With a puzzled look at Benjamin, Lorabeth stood and followed Carter to the dance floor. Just as they reached an opening, the music changed to a slow song, and Carter took one of her hands and placed his other at her waist.

  Lorabeth tried to peer around his shoulder to see Benjamin.

  “Are you and the doc exclusive?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Has he voiced any intentions? Asked you not to accept offers from other men?”

  She shook her head with regret. “No.”

  “So I still have a chance, huh?”

  She glanced up at him. “A chance to what?”

  “Win you. Be in your favor. You know.”

  She didn’t know. She’d never been in a position to accept dance offers or invitations of any sort. If there was some kind of unspoken protocol, she wasn’t aware of it. “Exactly what does being in my favor involve?” she asked.

  Carter’s complexion reddened. “Why, courting, Lorabeth.”

  She blinked. “Courting?”

  She knew what it meant. A gentleman sought out a lady’s favor by spending time with her. A few of the books Benjamin brought for her had been fictional novels with story lines where the gentlemen romanced their intended wives.

  “What does courting involve, exactly?” she asked.

  “Invitations to dances and socials. Gifts. Kissing, of course.”

  “Everyone is kissing at the home socials,” she thought aloud. “It hardly seems special in that setting.”

  “I would have to agree,” he answered. “But kissing is different in private.”

  Indeed it was. “If a gentleman kisses a lady in private, is he courting her?”

  “Quite likely,” he replied.

  Lorabeth fell into the steps of the dance, turning at every opportunity to seek out Benjamin. Occasionally they moved his direction, and the crowd parted enough so she could spot him where she’d left him, the baby nestled on his arm.

  He’d kissed her more than once. Was that courting?

  The music ended, and she moved away from Carter and headed back to the table. She reached for Madeline, but Benjamin said, “She�
�s fine.”

  Hobie came by and handed Benjamin a jar filled with dark liquid and foam on the surface.

  Lorabeth glanced at his retreating back, then at the jar. “What is it?”

  “Beer.” He turned and set it untouched on the table behind him. Then he met her gaze, apparently reading her curiosity. “Wanna try it?”

  “May I?”

  He picked up the jar and handed it to her.

  She raised it to her lips and the pungent yeasty aroma met her nostrils. She drew her head away and blinked. Determined to taste it, she held her breath and took a sip. The unpleasant taste made her shudder.

  Benjamin grinned and pointed to her mouth.

  “Oh.” She flicked her tongue across her upper lip.

  “Like it?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not especially.”

  She glanced from his face toward the crowd and back. He was studying her. Their gazes locked. His fell to her mouth. Embarrassed, she looked away.

  Zeta came by with a tray and handed Lorabeth a jar of lemonade.

  “Thank you. This is more like it.” She’d worked up a thirst, and the beer was awful. She took a long drink. “Oh!”

  “Spiked?” Benjamin asked with a raised brow.

  “Uh-huh.” She set it on the table. “These people enjoy their strong spirits, don’t they?”

  Caleb and Ellie returned, and Caleb took Madeline from Benjamin.

  “Oh, that looks good,” Ellie said, spotting the full glass of lemonade. “May I?” She reached for it and took a deep swallow before Lorabeth could say anything. Her eyes watered, and she fanned herself with a hand. “Oh, my.”

  Benjamin laughed. “That’s what Lorabeth said.”

  She quickly set the glass back down. “Go on, you two,” Ellie said, waving. “Have fun.”

  Benjamin took Lorabeth’s hand, and they made their way back out. After dancing to a few brisk tunes, the music slowed again. She loved the way Benjamin’s hand rested at her waist, the way she could smell his hair and clothing and feel the warmth of his body. “I don’t want to dance with anyone but you,” she said.

  “Good.” He studied her, his gaze touching her hair, her eyes. “I don’t want you to dance with anyone but me.”

  Was this what Carter had asked about? “Benjamin?”

  “Yes.”

  She wanted to know about exclusiveness and courting, but she couldn’t form words to ask.

  In the split second while the strains of a song dwindled away and dancers parted and headed toward the sides of the room, Benjamin’s demeanor changed. His body stiffened and his face looked pinched.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

  He took her hand and led her toward the chairs. “Nothing.”

  She studied him, but he avoided her eyes. She turned her attention to the others in the room, but couldn’t figure out why he’d suddenly become tense and withdrawn.

  Ellie came to stand beside Benjamin then, and the two of them looked at each other, then at the crowd of dancers.

  “Is something wrong?” Lorabeth asked again.

  “No.” Ellie turned away and joined a gathering of women that included Miss Kirkpatrick.

  Benjamin seemed to be studying someone, but Lorabeth couldn’t figure out who or what had changed his mood.

  With a sick feeling growing in his belly, Ben watched Wes Evans escort his wife from the dance floor toward the side, where several youngsters greeted them. Two were blond-haired girls around ten or twelve with braids and calico dresses, another a dark-haired boy of maybe fourteen or fifteen who resembled Suzanne.

  A startling realization flooded over him. Uneasiness riled his nerve endings and set his heart racing. A few of those children in that gathering obviously belonged to Wes and Suzanne.

  Ben had siblings he hadn’t known about.

  One of the girls elbowed the other, and they laughed. Wes leaned forward and said something to the young man, resting his hand on his shoulder as he did so.

  At the sight of the Evans family’s interaction, Ben turned away. Those children led normal, happy lives, were well fed and had nice clothing. Their parents treated them lovingly. No doubt they had a decent house and attended school.

  Ben couldn’t bear the overwhelming envy and sadness that enveloped him. He drew a breath and gathered his composure.

  “Do you want to leave?” Lorabeth asked from beside him.

  He glanced at her concerned expression and nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Ben found Lorabeth’s wrap draped over the back of a chair and nestled it around her shoulders. “We’re headin’ out,” he said to Caleb.

  His brother-in-law nodded.

  The crisp night air held the scent of fall.

  “That was fun,” Lorabeth said.

  Ben helped her up to the buggy seat. “Glad you had a good time.”

  “Where are you spending the night? I mean, at which house?”

  “I like to spend Saturday night in town. I’m closer for church in the mornin’ that way, but I really need to go check on the animals tonight, so I might as well stay out there.”

  “I’d enjoy riding along if you want to go tend to them now, then come back to town.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “All right, then.” He headed the horse toward the outskirts of Newton. “There’s a lap blanket back here,” he said, reaching under the seat and pulling out a Hudson Bay blanket. “Air’s nippy tonight.” He wondered what Evans did for a living.

  She covered herself. “Look at all the stars.”

  He scanned the expanse of dark heavens with its winking lights. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  Ben couldn’t think much past Wes Evans’s appearance at the harvest dance. Had the man attended local dances before? Had he recently moved to Newton from Florence? Ben had been born in Florence, and he didn’t remember seeing the man before now. Suzanne would have spotted Ben sooner had they been at the same activities. Ellie would have recognized Wes. Or would she?

  His head spun with questions, and for once Lorabeth was silent and contemplative.

  The picture of those youngsters was burned into his mind. Half brothers and sisters? As close in blood relation to him as Ellie and Flynn. Did they know about him? Of course not. Wes hadn’t known about him, and Ben was sure the man hadn’t hurried home to tell them he had an illegitimate son.

  How could Ben go on living in this community if that man and his entire brood were going to show up unannounced every time he turned around?

  They reached Ben’s property, and he pulled the buggy up in front of the barn. He must have been sitting with the reins in his hands and the night closing around them for a few minutes before Lorabeth spoke, startling him out of his reverie.

  “Are you all right, Benjamin?”

  He glanced at the reins and tied them. “Yeah. Just tired, I reckon. Come inside the barn with me. I’ll light the stove there and you can keep warm while I check the animals.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble,” she told him. “You don’t need to light a fire just for me.”

  He helped her down and escorted her through the side door where the familiar scents of hay and animals enveloped them.

  Delilah bleated from her pen.

  “What’s that?” Lorabeth asked.

  “That’s Delilah.” He let out the goat, and it sniffed Lorabeth’s skirt and shoes, then tried to nibble the hem of her skirt.

  Lorabeth squealed and tugged the fabric away. “What’s she doing?”

  “Bein’ nosy. Delilah, leave Lorabeth’s dress alone.”

  Ben checked the occupied cages along the inside wall, made sure each of the animals had food and water, and examined a few healing wounds. A pigeon ruffled its feathers and pecked at the grain in its dish.

  “What’s wrong with the dog?” Lorabeth asked.

  “That’s Hoover, Marshal Vidlak’s huntin’ hound
. Got his hind leg caught in a trap. It’s nearly healed now.”

  Hoover stood with his black nose against the wire door, his tail wagging.

  “What about her?” She pointed to a calico cat with a gold and black face.

  “Him. Almira Wheeler found him in the alley behind her shop. He was skin and bones, pretty scraped up.”

  Lorabeth placed her hand on the front wire of the cage, and the cat backed into the rear corner. “Are you afraid, kitty?”

  “He doesn’t even let me pet him, and I’ve been feedin’ him for a couple of weeks.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Doesn’t have one. He’s a stray.”

  She bent to peer into the cage. “You look like a Mittens to me. Your paws are all a different color fur than the rest of you.”

  “Not a very manly name for a tom,” he commented.

  “He likes it.”

  Ben came to stand beside her and studied the animal. “How can you tell?”

  “His ears stood up when I said it. Watch. Mittens?”

  Sure enough the feline twitched his notched ears and gave her a superior green-eyed stare.

  “What will you do with him?”

  “Let him go, I guess. There are already half a dozen barn cats around here. Another won’t hurt. Takes care of the mice.”

  He was standing close enough behind her to detect the soft floral scent of her hair. Instead of the braid she wore during the week, she had fashioned her hair so that it hung in rippling waves down her back. Every time his hand had brushed it that evening he’d experienced a twinge of longing.

  “Your hair is so soft and shiny,” he told her.

  She straightened and turned so that she was looking at him over her shoulder. “I had it trimmed this week. And Ellie helped me do an egg treatment.”

  “Eggs? Really? What do eggs do?”

  She smiled. “Make it shiny, I guess.”

  They stood that way for a moment.

  “You can touch it if you like.”

  He didn’t need an engraved invitation. Ben reached tentatively and took a tress between his fingers and thumb, noticing the cool, silky texture. Then he threaded all five fingers into the mass and brought it to his nose. He touched the satin smoothness to his lips.

  Lorabeth turned so that she was facing him and watched his expression, obviously not caring if her hair was mussed.