The Hand-Me-Down Family Read online

  He nodded to the second boy. “And you?”

  “Albert Hanfield. I’m Charles Hanfield’s son,” he added before Jack could ask.

  Charles Hanfield owned a pig farm just outside of town. Albert likely knew the meaning of hard work as well. “All right, Albert, you’re hired.”

  Next he turned to his third candidate.

  “Jessie Mills.” She offered the name before he even had a chance to ask.

  “And would that be short for Jessica?”

  The two boys snickered, but stopped abruptly when she flashed a glare their way.

  She turned back to Jack and the tilt of her chin reminded him strongly of Callie. “Actually, it’s short for Jessamine.”

  “Well, Jessie, I’m afraid—”

  “You didn’t ask about my dad,” she said, cutting him off. “He’s Joe Mills, and he runs the livery and smithy. I’m used to hard work, just ask anyone here in town.”

  “I’m sure you are, but knocking these timbers down and carting them off is not only hard work, it can be dirty and dangerous, too.”

  “I work around a smithy and horses that ain’t been broke yet. I don’t mind getting dirty and I know how to handle dangerous jobs.”

  There was something about the girl, an edge of determination beneath her bravado, that kept Jack from refusing her outright. He rubbed his chin. “I tell you what. I’ll hire you for just this morning and see how you do. After lunch we’ll talk again.”

  “Yes, sir! I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  Jack wasn’t so sure of that—he was already second-guessing his decision. But he’d given her his word and he’d stick by it.

  He stepped back and spoke to the group as a whole. “The pay is four bits a day, and I expect you to earn every cent of it. I don’t have any use for laggards and lay-abouts. I want to have every bit of this wreck dismantled and the whole lot cleared out by Thursday evening. And I want it done without anyone getting hurt in the process. Understand?”

  There was a chorus of “Yes, sir”s.

  “Good. Then you’ll find tools in my buckboard. Calvin, I want you working with me, knocking down these timbers. Jessie and Albert, while we’re working on this end, you get a wheelbarrow and start carting off everything that’s just laying about down on that end. And that means shoveling the ashes as well. Make sure you keep your eyes open for jagged bits and shaky timbers.”

  He grabbed a sledgehammer from the back of the wagon. “Take the bigger timbers and stack them in the middle of the back lot. We’ll go through ’em later to see what can be reused and what should be tossed on someone’s woodpile.” He paused. “If you happen across anything that seems salvageable—anything at all—set it aside for me to look at.”

  The three nodded and set to work.

  All through the morning, Jack kept an eye on Jessie. He had to admit, the girl definitely knew how to get things done. She was nimble and quick, and she didn’t complain about the dirt or the work.

  When he called a break at lunchtime she sauntered over with a smug smile. “Do I pass the test?”

  He took a bite of the sandwich Callie had packed for him, studying her thoughtfully while he chewed.

  After a moment some of her cockiness faded and she jammed her hands in the pockets of her overalls. “Well?”

  He swallowed and tilted his hat back. “You’ll do.”

  Relief shone in her eyes. “Thanks, Mr. Tyler. I’ll do you a real good job this week, you’ll see.”

  He watched as the girl raced off in the direction of the livery stable, wondering what her story was.

  That evening, Jessie held back as the two boys headed home. “Mr. Tyler, I want to thank you for taking a chance on me today.”

  Jack nodded. “Thank you for not disappointing me.”

  She watched as he dipped his bandanna in the horse trough and washed his neck. “People say you’ve traveled all over the country.”

  Jack laughed. “Not all over, but I’ve visited my share of places.”

  “That’s what I’m gonna do someday.” Her voice lost its hard edge. For the first time he saw something of her feminine side. “And not just this country, either,” she continued. “I’m gonna travel to Europe and Africa and all those places Mrs. Mayweather talks about in school.”

  He remembered having those yearnings to see what existed outside the narrow confines of Sweetgum. “I wish you well.”

  “That’s why I’m working so hard. People make fun of me ’cause I’m not like other girls. I’ll do most any old job to earn a few pennies, so long as it’s honest labor. But it doesn’t matter what they think of me. Once I leave here I can become whoever I want to be.”

  He heard echoes of his own childhood in her words. His eagerness to leave Sweetgum had been tied up in his desire to be looked at differently, to become someone other than Lanny’s little brother.

  What was her reason?

  Not that it was any of his business. He squeezed the water from his bandanna and put his hat back on. Then he had another thought. “How would you like to earn some extra money?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Just tell me what you need done.”

  “This job requires someone with keen eyes who doesn’t mind getting more than a little dirty.”

  “Then I’m your girl.”

  “I told y’all earlier to keep an eye out for anything salvageable. I know it may be a lost cause, but I’m looking for anything that survived the fire that would have some value or meaning to Emma and Simon. It’ll mean digging through all the soot and ashes to see what might be buried underneath.”

  If there was any piece of Emma and Simon’s home or belongings that remained intact, he intended to find it.

  “I’ll be doing some looking myself, of course, but it would be good to have another set of eyes.”

  “I think that’s a mighty fine thing to do. The Carsons were always good to me and I’d be right honored to help you do something nice for their kids.”

  With a nod, she headed home, whistling off key.

  He watched her a moment, then climbed into the wagon, ready to get back to his family.

  As the wagon passed out of town, he let the mare have her head. She knew the way home as well as he did.

  Jack rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck muscles, trying to work some of the kinks out. Clearing the burned out shell of his sister’s café was hard work. Demolition, of course, was his stock and trade. But this was not like his usual jobs.

  Making sure he got those scorched walls and timbers down without allowing the whole thing to collapse in on him and his young crew made it much trickier.

  Despite that, they’d made a lot of progress today. But they’d have to keep up the pace to meet his deadline.

  Jessie, especially, had surprised him. The girl was a hard worker with a lot of grit and determination. She had big dreams and wasn’t content to just sit back and hope they came true—she was doing everything in her power to make them come true.

  Had she learned that from her parents—both the dreaming big and the working hard? What would his nieces and nephew learn from him? He wouldn’t be around much, but when he was, he’d have to make sure he took his role as father figure seriously.

  Of course, they had Callie to look to. And he’d challenge anyone to find a better example for a child to follow, especially when it came to a willingness to dig in and get the job done.

  Remembering the way she’d tackled the farm chores these past few days brought a smile to his lips.

  But only for a minute.

  His shoulders slumped at the thought of tending to evening chores when he got back to the farm. It was like having two jobs at once. But it was only for about five weeks, give or take.

  At least he’d have a home-cooked meal waiting for him when he finished up, something that was hit or miss at camp. One thing Callie could do well was cook.

  The sun hadn’t quite set when the horse turned into the familiar lane and Jack pulled her up short.
Surprise washed away his fatigue. Callie and the kids were herding the cows into the barnyard.

  Seems he’d underestimated the woman once again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jack stepped out on the porch and drew his shoulders back, watching the fireflies play hide and seek in the front yard.

  Callie was putting the children to bed, but he knew she’d be out to join him soon. It had become routine.

  When he’d arrived home this evening, she’d only allowed him to take care of the horse and buggy, insisting that she and the kids could handle the rest of the chores while he went inside and washed all the soot and grime away before supper. There’d even been a kettle of water already warming on the firebox for him in the washroom.

  A man could get used to that kind of treatment.

  He stopped himself once again. It wouldn’t do for him to get too used to it. He couldn’t afford any ties that would make it harder on him or them when the time came for him to go.

  He moved toward his usual seat on the top step, then paused.

  Maybe he could repay the favor, even if only in a small way. After all, he didn’t like being beholden to anyone.

  If Callie was going to join him out here every night…

  Acting on impulse, he grabbed the bench from its place by the door and moved it up against the porch rail. He studied it a moment, then slid it slightly to the left.

  There.

  She’d have a place to sit if she wanted to, but could still stand at the rail if that was her preference.

  He stared at the bench, rubbing the back of his neck. What if Callie read something into the gesture he hadn’t intended?

  Maybe he should just put things back the way they’d been.

  He bent over the bench and then halted, a self-mocking smile curving his lips. For a man who prided himself on being decisive, he was certainly acting like a waffley whelp.

  Jack left the bench where he’d placed it and pulled out his pocketknife.

  Five minutes later, Callie finally stepped out on the porch.

  Jack studiously sliced another curl of wood to add to the pile of shavings at his feet. He felt rather than saw her pause a moment before stepping forward. But she took a seat on the bench without comment.

  “How did the work go today?” she asked.

  He looked up and attempted to hide his surprise. For once, he hadn’t had to prompt her to remove her bonnet.

  A good sign.

  “Better than expected. Three able-bodied workers showed up to help this morning.” He resumed his whittling, watching her from the corner of his eye. “One of them’s a girl.”

  She raised a brow. “How did that come about?”

  “Jessie Mills is the blacksmith’s daughter. She’s got a burning desire to earn enough money to travel around the world.”

  “So, a soul mate of sorts.”

  He shrugged. “Let’s just say I sympathize with her dreams. But she’s earning her pay every bit as much as the two guys.”

  Callie merely smiled that wise-woman smile of hers.

  Jack shaved another long curl of wood from the block. “I think we’ll get everything cleared out by Thursday evening.”

  “You’re doing a good thing for the children,” Callie said, worry in her voice, “but don’t push yourself too hard in the process.”

  “It’s just for a few days—I know what I’m doing.” He changed the subject. “So how did your day go?”

  “We did all right. Today was ironing day, of course, so that took up a big part of the morning. While I worked on that, I had Simon and the girls drag the rugs out to give them a good beating.”

  “Sounds like you kept busy.” He found himself wondering if they missed having him around at all.

  “Oh, it wasn’t all work. The girls had a tea party after lunch. And Ida Lee’s son Gil came over to deliver some of her peach preserves. He stayed and spent some time with Simon.”

  “Good. Having a kid around here to spend time with might help Simon lose that chip on his shoulder.”

  Callie leaned back against the porch rail. Her neck looked longer, leaner without that bonnet.

  “I overheard Simon telling him about the story we’ve been reading. They spent most of the afternoon playing shipwreck.” She glanced over at him. “I’m afraid Cookie and Pepper were drafted to play the part of the goats,” she said dryly.

  He laughed, then pointed the wood at her. “I suppose you went ahead and read the latest chapter without me.”

  “Sorry, but I’m afraid so.”

  “An apology won’t do it,” he said with mock-sternness. “You’ll have to fill me in on what I missed.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. You don’t think you can abandon me in the middle of the adventure do you?”

  Jack half-listened while she launched into a summary of the latest trials and triumphs of the shipwrecked family.

  Yes, if he wasn’t careful, a man could definitely get used to treatment like this.

  Callie drew the brush through her hair, relishing the soothing, rhythmic movements.

  She’d enjoyed reciting the high points of the latest chapter of Swiss Family Robinson to Jack tonight. His request meant he was enjoying the story, which in turn meant they did have a shared interest or two after all.

  A promising sign.

  Even more promising was the fact that he’d gone to the trouble of moving that bench for her this evening. Giving her a place to sit while they chatted was an unexpectedly thoughtful gesture. Was he beginning to enjoy those quiet moments together as much as she?

  If only he didn’t insist she remove her bonnet every evening. Callie stared at her reflection in the mirror, facing the ugliness head-on, something she rarely did. At least outside in the fading light her birthmark wasn’t quite so obvious. Maybe that’s why he was insistent about the whole thing. In the twilight it must look like more of a shadow than anything else. So he could at least pretend she looked okay.

  Yes, that must be it. Having her sit there without her bonnet in the moonlight while they discussed the day’s events probably lent a sense of normalcy to what—to him at least—must be an uncomfortable situation.

  She set the brush down and reached back to separate her hair into three thick ropes. But before she could begin braiding, the door opened behind her.

  “Aunt Callie?”

  She turned to see Annabeth peeking through the doorway.

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  The little girl stepped inside the room. “I had a dream about Daddy.”

  Callie held out her arms, which was all the incentive the child needed. Annabeth rushed forward and snuggled into her lap. Callie picked up her brush and drew the bristles through the child’s sunny curls. “Was it a good dream?”

  “Uh-huh. He was leading me around on Cinnamon like he used to, and telling me how pretty I was, that I looked just like Mommy.”

  “That sounds very nice.”

  “It was. But then I woke up and I remembered he wasn’t here anymore.”

  “And that made you sad?”

  Annabeth nodded.

  “It’s okay to be sad, you know. My own mommy died when I was fourteen, and I was very sad, too. But do you want to know a secret?”

  Annabeth nodded again.

  “I was sad for me because I missed her so much. But I was also very happy for her.”

  The little girl’s eyes widened. “You were?”

  “Yes. Because I knew she was in heaven, and heaven is such a wonderful place, more wonderful than we can even imagine. I knew Mother was happy there and that nothing could hurt her or make her cry ever again.”

  “Oh.” Annabeth thought about that a minute. “And that’s where my daddy and mommy are, too.”

  Callie heard the question in her statement. “That’s right. They’re both there together. And your Aunt Nell and Uncle Jed are with them.”

  “And your mommy, too?”

  “That’s right.
And you know, they’re probably watching us right now.”

  Annabeth snuggled deeper into her lap. “That’s nice.”

  “So even though it’s okay to miss them, we can also be very happy for them.”

  “Okay.” The word ended on a yawn.

  “Now, it’s time for you to get back to bed, young lady.” Callie set the brush down and allowed Annabeth to slide from her lap. “Would you like me to tuck you in again?”

  Annabeth nodded and slipped her hand in Callie’s.

  Callie led her down the hall to her room. The child was already rubbing her eyes as Callie pulled the covers up to her chin. Callie leaned down and kissed her forehead. Before she could rise again, Annabeth lifted a hand and stroked Callie’s left cheek. “I don’t care what Simon says,” she said sleepily. “I like your angel kiss.”

  Callie stood, feeling both warmed and chilled by the artlessly uttered words.

  What had Simon been saying?

  Careful not to waken the still-sleeping Emma, Callie glided from the room and quietly closed the door behind her. She turned to find Jack standing at the top of the stairs, staring at her with a strange look in his eyes.

  He stepped forward, his expression changing to concern. “Is something wrong with one of the girls?”

  He spoke in a stage whisper, his voice oddly husky.

  “No.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Annabeth was troubled by a dream she had, but I think she’s okay now.”

  “Good.” He cleared his throat. “Well then, I guess I’ll say good-night. Again.”

  “Good-night.” Callie, feeling as nervous as a schoolgirl under his peculiar stare, hurried across the hall and into the sanctuary of her room.

  Jack closed the door to his chamber. Now why had he just reacted so strongly to the unexpected encounter? Even if he and Callie hadn’t been married, there’d been nothing the least bit improper or suggestive in her appearance. In fact, that prim, buttoned-to-the-chin wrapper she had on would have looked at home in an elderly spinster’s wardrobe.

  He supposed it was the sight of those waves of unbound hair. Every other time he’d seen her without her bonnet she’d had her hair up in a tight bun or a braided coronet. He’d had no idea it was so long and fluid. She appeared to be a whole different person with her hair down—softer, more feminine.