Gingham Mountain Read Free

widened with interest, but she never spoke. Well, he’d had ’em shy before.
    “I can see you’ll like that. I’ll start giving you riding lessons as soon as the snow lets up.” Grant ran his hand over his grizzled face. “I should have shaved and made myself more presentable for you young’uns. I reckon I’m a scary sight. But the cattle were acting up this morning. There’s a storm coming, and it makes ’em skittish. By the time I could get away, I was afraid I’d miss the train.”
    Grant took Libby’s little hand, careful not to move suddenly and frighten her, and rubbed her fingers on his whiskery face.
    She snatched her hand away, but she grinned.
    The smile transformed Libby’s face. She had eyes that had seen too much and square shoulders that had borne a lifetime of trouble. Grant vowed to himself that he’d devote himself to making her smile.
    “I’ll shave it off before I give you your first good night kiss.”
    The smile faded, and Libby looked at him with such longing Grant’s heart turned over with a father’s love for his new daughter. She’d gotten to him even faster than they usually did.
    Martha reached past Libby to rest her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And Charlie is eleven.”
    Grant pivoted a bit on his toes and looked at Charlie again. A good-looking boy, but so skinny he looked like he’d blow over in a hardwind. Grant could fix that. The boy had flyaway blond hair that needed a wash and a trim. It was the hostility in his eyes that explained why he hadn’t found a home. Grant had seen that look before many times, including in a mirror.
    As if he spoke to another man, Grant said, “Charlie, welcome to the family.”
    Charlie shrugged as if being adopted meant nothing to him. “Are we supposed to call you pa?”
    “That’d be just fine.” Grant looked back at the little girl. “Does that suit you, Libby?”
    Libby didn’t take her lonesome eyes off Grant, but she pressed herself against Martha’s leg as if she wanted to disappear into Martha’s long wool coat.
    The engineer shouted, “All aboard!” The train whistle sounded. A blast of steam shot across the platform a few feet ahead of them.
    Libby jumped and let out a little squeak of surprise. Grant noted that the little girl’s voice worked, so most likely she didn’t talk for reasons of her own, not because of an injury. He wondered if she’d seen something so terrible she couldn’t bear to speak of it.
    The boy reached his hand out for Libby. “We’ve been together for a long time, Libby. We can go together to the ranch. I’ll take care of you.”
    Libby looked at Charlie as if he were a knight in shining armor. After some hesitation, she released her death grip on Martha and caught Charlie’s hand with both of hers.
    “Did I hear you correctly?” A sharp voice asked from over Grant’s shoulder. “Are you allowing this man to adopt these children?”
    Startled, Grant stood, turned, and bumped against a soft, cranky woman. He almost knocked her onto her backside—the lady who’d been waiting at the depot. He grabbed her or she’d have fallen on the slippery wood. Grant steadied her, warm and alive in his hands.

T WO
     
    E xcuse me.” He said it even though it was all her fault he bumped into her. She’d obviously been eavesdropping. He’d thought she was pretty before. Now she just looked snippy.
    The woman looked past Grant like he was dirt under her feet and said to Martha, “You can’t put these children into a home without a mother.”
    “Don’t worry, Miss. . . Miss. . . ” Martha came to stand like a bulwark beside Grant.
    He appreciated her siding with him, especially when common sense would tell anyone that, in the normal course of things, this busybody was right.
    “I’m Hannah. . . uh. . . Cartwright. Surely there are laws against a man simply sweeping up children to take them home for laborers. If there aren’t, there should be.”
    “Laborers?” Grant went from