Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

" D inner's ready," Ms. Penelope called into the barn aisle at a little before sunset.

It had been a long day, and Abraham's stomach grumbled in response to the prospect of getting supper. He hadn't eaten a good dinner earlier that day because he'd been too nervous about making it to livery in Tonganoxie and meeting his new… honestly, he wasn't sure what he should call Miss Cahill. Was she his intended? The thought of that made his cheeks heat up and all the blood in his body seemed to rush to his face as his heart beat faster and harder.

How could he think of her that way? She'd said nothing of romance or even a marriage arrangement. And surely, they'd want to get to know each other for a little while before jumping into marriage vows. After their short conversation about horsemanship or the common man's lack of, she'd hardly said more than two words to him the rest of the day. Once he'd finished the work with the horses as he'd been assigned, he'd found a few things that needed tidying up around the barn and found a couple of nails so that he could fix that third rung on the hayloft ladder as well. It was about the time he was finished putting away all the tools that Ms. Penelope called into the barn.

"I'll be ready once I get this horse put away," Miss Cahill answered as she walked into the barn aisle with a buckskin pony. She'd been lunging it in the small paddock to give it exercise.

"I'll meet you at the house then," Penelope said as she turned and left the barn.

When Abraham considered all the work that he'd done today and the work that he'd seen Miss Cahill accomplish, he wondered at what she'd said earlier. Were these really all the things that she would have had to do for the day alone? If he thought it was a long day as it was, he couldn't imagine taking care of all of the stalls and feeding on his own, either. Then she drew near with a lunge whip in hand, and he offered to take it with a gesture.

She eyed him with brows raised, but then handed it to him without a word and continued leading the pony back to his stall. Abraham hung the whip up next to the others in the tack room. Then he went to close the door and put the lock on.

"You don't need to lock it all the way yet, just turn it so that it appears to be locked. After supper we'll feed and water the horses and close everything up for the night," she called as she was removing the pony's halter and then latching the stall door.

He nodded. Work in a barn often went late into the night and early into the morning as well. When he was working in the Cavalry, he got used to the fact that the hours were odd, and sometimes you lost sleep while caring for the animals. But the one thing his commanding officer taught him was that the horses couldn't care for themselves, so his responsibility was a noble, godly calling and Abraham should take pride in getting the chance to work with such splendid beasts. His shoulders ached and his muscles had a bit of soreness, but both of these feelings were good. It meant that he'd been working. It meant that they were getting stronger. It meant that he was useful again. And all of those things were very good. His step felt a little bit lighter as he made his way to the main house behind the barn.

Miss Cahill stomped her boots on the bottom porch step to knock off the excess dirt and mud, so Abraham did the same. When the got to the door, however, she took her shoes off and then turned toward him. "Aunt Penelope likes to keep a clean house, so we leave our shoes outside."

He nodded and pulled the laces free of the top of his boot and pulled out his feet. Immediately, he was struck by the fact that one of his socks had a hole in it, and his big toe was sticking out. Additionally, the faint odor of sweat came from his feet and his cheeks heated. How could he possibly go into the house in this condition? And have dinner… with two ladies? He didn't deserve to. Miss Cahill stepped forward and opened the door instead of waiting for him to. Another moment where he failed at being the gentleman… or man even.

She nodded toward his feet. "Penelope will likely want you to leave your socks so that she can mend them."

"I couldn't ask her to do that," he said with a gasp.

"She's not going to ask you." Miss Cahill huffed a laugh. "When Penelope tells you to do something, you won't have a choice or an argument. She's as stubborn as a chestnut mare and won't take no for an answer. You may as well just hand her over the socks when she demands them."

Abraham blinked as he took hold of the door over Miss Cahill's head. She looked up at him and then shyly looked away. It was the first time her green-eyed gaze wasn't piercing and looked a little unsure. He swallowed as his heart skipped a beat. But the moment was fleeting as Ms. Penelope came from the kitchen with an apron tied around her and she put out her hands. "Stop right were you both are!"

At the sound of her command, both of them froze mid step.

"Remove your socks and wash up your feet before you even come to the dining room. I've got a tub set up for you both in the wash closet. Just step in the soapy water and then towel your feet off." Then Ms. Penelope caught sight of Abraham's big toe. "Oh, my goodness, me! The state of your socks is deplorable. You'll leave those with me, of course, and I'll get you a fresh pair. How many socks do you have?"

Confused, he glanced over toward Miss Cahill who shrugged but offered no real help. He shrugged himself. "I only have the two."

Ms. Penelope shook her head. "No, silly. Not how many socks do you have on, how many pairs of socks do you have with you?"

"Oh," he said, but then shrugged again. "I only have two pairs, actually."

Shaking her head and pursing her lips in disapproval, Ms. Penelope said, "We'll have to fix that. For now, you can have my brother's socks. He has four pairs that are in excellent condition."

"What?" Miss Cahill said with a frown. "You're giving him my father's socks?"

"It's not as though Gerald is using them is it? He was buried in his favorite pair, anyway. These socks have no meaning to him."

Miss Cahill put her hands upon her hips. "You can't just go giving away my father's things."

"Why not?" Ms. Penelope said, resting her hands upon her hips as well. What Miss Cahill had said earlier was about right. Abraham could almost imagine the lady pinning her ears like a chestnut mare as she flared her nostrils. "Are you going to wear the socks?"

"I might," Miss Cahill said, and suddenly he realized that the younger Cahill had a stubborn streak in her that was probably just as difficult as her aunt's.

"They won't fit you."

"They might."

Abraham feared that the two would glare at each other so hard that something might catch fire. And he hated that they were doing it over him. "It's all right. I'll buy some of my own socks at the general store if I need to. I don't want to take something that isn't mine."

Then they both glared at him and said at the same time, "Stay out of this."

His eyes widened as he put up his hands in surrender. And he was pretty certain that was going to be the last time he tried to resolve an argument between the two Cahill ladies.

The aunt turned on her niece. "Look. It's been two years. You need to take his bible off his nightstand and read it. Treasure it. Don't let it just sit there, collecting dust."

"I know that."

"And when you marry, that bedroom will become yours."

Miss Cahill swiped at her eyes but continued to frown. "That isn't going to happen for a long time."

Glancing toward Abraham, Ms. Penelope said, "It may happen sooner than you think. Now, those socks aren't doing anyone a bit of good sitting in the drawer unworn while Abraham here tries to make do with only two pairs, and one of them is in a sorry state—who knows about the other."

Abraham didn't know whether to be offended or not, but decided that either way, it was best to keep his tongue at this moment.

"So tell me, Sadie, what should we do?"

For a long half a minute, the two just glared at each other. Then finally, the younger Miss Cahill let out a sigh and looked directly toward Abraham. "Take the socks and make good use of them."

Then she turned on her heel and raced up the stairs to the second floor. Abraham's jaw went slack as he watched her leave.

"Don't mind her. She's a bit attached to things that she shouldn't be, and it's understandable. She's had a lot of loss in her life. Her mother died of influenza when Sadie was only seven, and then her father goes off to help in the war and gets himself shot. She's of the mind that everyone leaves, so she wants to hold tight to the memories and things that remind her of those that she loves." Penelope watched the stairs wistfully with a sigh before turning again toward him. "Now go and wash up in the water closet and leave the socks next to the tub. I'll fetch you a clean pair, and then we'll have dinner. All right?"

"I really don't want to be a bother."

She shook her head. "You're no bother at all. I'm happy that you're here. Oh! And by the way, Sadie doesn't know that I put the advertisement out for a husband. She thinks you're here only in the capacity of blacksmith and farrier. So it's up to you to woo her, understand. I'm counting on you."

The blood drained from Abraham's face as the woman just turned and marched away like she hadn't just said something of importance. He was supposed to… to woo a woman? Him? And not just any woman, but that spitfire of a lady who he'd just offended by accepting her father's socks—not that he had a choice. And just how was he going to do that?

Of all the impossible tasks he'd been given in his life, this one seemed the most unreasonable, but somehow, he knew that he wouldn't be able to convince Ms. Penelope that he couldn't possibly. Part of him wanted to turn on his heel and run. Maybe he could catch the evening stagecoach. If not, maybe he could stay at the tavern and then take the first one in the morning. He could just leave this situation.

But where would he go?

What would he do?

He had no plans for his future. He had no family to turn to, no one to help him. He certainly couldn't return to the Lamb's house in St. Joseph. He'd already asked too much of them. But this was an impossible task. How could he, in his ineptitude with people, and worse with women, possibly woo a lady?

His glance dropped toward his feet, and he looked down at his bare toes. And even if he had someplace to run to, how far would he get without socks on his feet?

Ms. Penelope returned and lifted a brow before handing him a fresh pair of folded socks. Then she pointed to his left. "The wash closet is right there," she said gently.

"Thank you." Nodding, he started in the direction she'd gestured. All right. Maybe he could do this. He could at least give it a try. As he entered the washroom and found the foot tub of soapy water, he let out a breath. Would it hurt him to give it a try?

It would definitely embarrass him, he was certain.

Maybe it would even humiliate him. But hurt?

His pride might take a hit. Frowning, he shook his head. "What is impossible for man is possible with God," he whispered to himself.

What did his pride matter? What did it matter if he was humiliated or embarrassed? If he wanted to make his vision—his dream—into a reality, he'd need to do things that made him uncomfortable. And this was definitely one of those things. He let out another slow breath and then nodded to his reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite the door. If he was where God intended him to be, then he was going to succeed. If he failed, then God had other plans for him. If he could just accept that, then his pride made no matter.

Then he determined to do what God led him to in the matter of wooing Miss Sadie Cahill, and he started washing his feet.