Montana Bride By Christmas. Linda Ford
eye. “Good. Then you shall have it. I’ll make pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans and lots and lots of gravy.” She’d found a generously stocked pantry with jars of canned vegetables and several items of baked goods. Two loaves of bread that appeared to be freshly made. Mrs. Ross had done a good job caring for the preacher. Annie was confident she could do just as well.
She brought out one of the loaves and set it on a cutting board. “How thick do you like your bread?” She placed the knife to indicate a very thin slice. When Evan gave no response, she moved it slightly. Still no response. She widened it so the cut would result in a slice two inches thick.
Evan’s gaze came to hers.
She smiled. Despite whatever had happened to the boy, he wasn’t beyond interest in the things around him. “Too big?” She brought the knife closer to the end of the loaf and paused at a generously thick slice but nothing out of the ordinary. The knife hovered.
Evan watched and she knew it was where he wanted the bread cut. She did so.
“One slice or two?”
Evan’s gaze returned to the loaf and she understood he wanted two.
She chuckled at the way they’d been able to communicate. “You and I will do just fine, won’t we?”
His gaze held hers a second then he ducked his head. He had his father’s dark eyes and dark hair and would no doubt grow into a man as handsome as Hugh. Right now it was hard to see past the shaggy hair, the guarded eyes and the need for a good wash.
Annie turned her attention back to supper preparations, more than a little pleased with the way things had gone so far. Given time she had every expectation that Evan would become a happy, normal little boy. Four weeks would be plenty enough time to make Hugh see that he and Evan needed her. She’d gain her own home and family.
She hummed as she finished meal preparations and set the table but paused as she chose the plates.
Four places? Or did Hugh allow Evan to take his meals sitting in the corner? It wasn’t right. There was no need to continue treating him like an animal and she carried four plates to the table.
“Supper is almost ready.” She put down one plate. “For Grandfather.” She put down the second one. “For me.” Then the third plate. “For your papa.” She set the fourth plate down on the side closest to where Evan huddled but before she could say it was for him, he made a noise half grunt, half growl and kicked out one leg, catching Annie behind her knee. Her leg buckled. She caught at the back of the chair but it slipped from her grasp and banged to the floor.
Evan continued to swing his legs at her, making feral noises.
She fought for balance, trying to get out of his reach.
Hugh strode into the room, scooped his son into his arms and held him tight, restraining the flailing limbs. “Evan, you’re okay. No one is going to hurt you. I won’t let them.” He sent Annie a look of accusation.
She lifted her chin. She would not defend herself, would not say she had done nothing to Evan. The attack had been entirely unprovoked though she realized her expectation that he sit at the table had been a little hasty.
Evan continued to struggle in Hugh’s arms but Hugh held him firmly. “I won’t let you go until you stop kicking and hitting.”
The boy bared his teeth.
Hugh held Evan’s head immobile. “You can’t bite. You aren’t an animal.”
Again Hugh’s gaze hit Annie’s with the force of accusation. Did he think she would judge the child? She shook her head. “It’s my fault. I set a fourth plate on the table and he knew I meant for him to sit at the table. It’s too soon.”
She tore her gaze from Hugh’s and looked at the boy in his arms. “Evan?” She waited, hoping he would acknowledge her but he continued to struggle. “I understand you aren’t ready to join us at the table. That’s okay. When you are, you can sit with us like a little boy who belongs in a family.”
He began to calm.
She continued. There were so many things she wanted him to understand. “This is your home, your papa.”
Hugh sucked in air like he had forgotten to breathe the last few minutes. “I will never let you go again.” His voice broke on the words.
Annie knew from what the preacher had said in the months since he came to Bella Creek that his wife had disappeared along with their son. Knew he’d discovered his wife had died and his son was missing. She wondered about the details. Did he let her go? Why? Or had she left because of something he did?
So many questions. So few answers. Would knowing the facts help her deal with Evan? Or did she want to know because she wondered why Hugh was so set on a businesslike marriage? One would think with him being a preacher he would insist on love being present in such a relationship. But despite the questions flooding her mind she couldn’t imagine asking him about his wife.
Was this one of those secrets they had agreed could exist?
“Supper is ready.” She turned back to the stove, put the food in serving bowls and set them on the table.
Meanwhile, Hugh lowered Evan to the floor where the boy crowded into the corner.
Tears stung Annie’s eyes at the fear on Evan’s face and she vowed she would prove to him that he was safe and life could be fun.
She found a tin bowl and put the two slices of bread in it, drowning them in gravy. She cut the bread into small pieces, put a spoon in the bowl and set it on the floor close enough Evan could reach it but not so close he would feel threatened and lash out again.
Hugh watched her every move. Prepared, she supposed, to intervene.
Grandfather had wakened at the ruckus and observed the whole time.
Annie knew he would not hesitate to give his opinion and wondered what it would be. She stood by the table waiting for Hugh to take the lead. He waited, perhaps for the same reason.
“Shall we eat?” she said.
“By all means. Where would you like me to sit?”
She stood behind the chair closest to the stove and indicated the one across the table for Hugh. Grandfather sat at the spot closest to his armchair and across from where Evan sat on the floor.
Hugh stared at his plate, the picture of despair.
Annie wished she could offer some encouragement to him but she wasn’t sure a touch would be welcome and there seemed no adequate words.
“I’ll ask the blessing,” he said and Annie bowed her head, silently praying her own words. Gratitude for the food, and for the chance to earn her own home, but more than that, a request for God’s healing love to fill their hearts.
Grandfather waited until the food had been passed around and everyone had a good start on eating before he voiced his opinion. “We have our job cut out for us with that one.” He tipped his head toward Evan who had pulled the bowl close and turned his back to them.
There was no clang of the metal spoon against the metal dish and Annie knew the boy ate with his fingers. At the moment it seemed the least of their worries. But Grandfather’s words encouraged her. He had made it clear he meant to ally himself with her and Hugh in winning this boy’s trust and cooperation.
Hugh put his fork down as if he’d lost interest in the meal. “Any suggestions?”
Grandfather also lowered his fork to the table and considered his words. “I once knew an old Indian so weathered and wrinkled you could get lost in the crevasses of his face. He and I worked for the same outfit back before I got married.” He paused and grew somber as he always did when he thought about his long-dead wife. “I knew him several weeks before I heard him utter a word. When I asked him about it he said he never had anything to say until then.” Grandfather’s gaze went to Evan. “I expect