"What about the horses? They can't stay cooped inside the barn all the time."
"I'll exercise them during the night. I'll start rebuilding the corral as soon as it's dark. Stop worrying."
"What can I do to help?"
"Get stronger."
She would have argued with him if Parker hadn't demanded her attention.
Cooking wasn't one of Douglas 's talents, and so he sliced the ham and bread Trudy Simpson had sent, and opened a jar of pickled beets he'd stolen from the general store. He gave Isabel a full glass of milk. She wanted to save it and would have insisted if he hadn't told her he could easily get more.
She returned to the main room an hour later with Parker up against her shoulder and watched Douglas repair a chair while she paced with the fretful baby. Douglas noticed how exhausted she looked and decided to leave the other chairs until tomorrow night. He washed his hands and then took the baby from her.
"I'll walk with him."
"I don't know what's wrong with him. He's been fed and changed and burped, but he still won't go to sleep."
"He's just being ornery."
She started to turn away, then changed her mind. "I'll sit up with you and-"
"You don't need to," he said. "If I get into trouble, I know where to find you."
"You're certain nothing's wrong with him?"
"I'm certain."
"Good night then."
Douglas sat down in the rocker and began to gently pat the baby's back. He remembered how he used to rock his sister, and Lord, how fast time had moved. Soon now Mary Rose would be rocking her own son or daughter. Douglas used to talk things over with his sister while he rocked her, and he did the same thing now with Parker. The vibration of his voice had calmed Mary Rose, or bored her, into sleep. The reason really didn't matter; the result was always the same. Parker settled down within minutes and was snoring like an old man.
It was dark now and time for Douglas to get some work done. He braced himself for the anger he would feel the second he stepped out the door. Sure as certain, he got mad, because he was again reminded that the cabin was sitting in the center of the flood line. He couldn't seem to move past that appalling realization. It didn't matter to him that her dead husband might not have built the cabin, or that he might have moved his pregnant wife into the quarters as a temporary home while he built a cabin on higher ground. The man had still put Isabel in danger. Why in God's name had he done it? Didn't he care?
Grant's incompetence didn't stop there. He'd built a corral-at least that was what Douglas thought it was supposed to be-but apparently the first strong wind had knocked half of it down. He was pretty certain Pegasus had sustained his leg injury by accidentally brushing up against one of its exposed nails. If that was true, the risk of serious infection increased considerably. Douglas had to find out as soon as possible, so that he could change the salve he was applying to Pegasus if he needed to, but he decided to wait until morning and let Isabel get as much sleep as possible.
It was a little after dawn when she joined him at the table. She had Parker snuggled in her arms.
A fire crackled in the hearth and gave the room a nice warm glow. Douglas stood up and pulled a chair out for her.
She noticed the lumpy oatmeal and the burned toast he'd again prepared.
He noticed how her hair was shining in the light coming from the fire. She wore it in a long braid down her back. Curly red strands had escaped the binding and framed the sides of her face, and damn but she was a fine-looking woman. Motherhood agreed with her.
She realized he was staring at her and grew selfconscious in no time at all. "Parker won't burp." It was all she could think of to say to take his mind off her unkempt appearance.
He threw a clean towel up against his shoulder and took the baby from her. "Can you sit at the table?"
"Yes. I'm feeling better now."
Douglas stood over her while he gently patted the baby's back. Isabel didn't want to hurt his feelings by refusing to eat the unappealing food, and so she forced half of it down with big gulps of water. She wanted to save the rest of the milk for supper.
"You should be drinking milk with every meal. I'll bring more back next Monday."
"We did have two milking cows several months ago."
"What happened to them?"
"I'm not sure. They were here one morning, and gone the next."
"Do you think Boyle stole them?"
She shrugged. "Parker didn't seem to be overly upset about it, and he refused to talk about it much. I think he might have forgotten to close the stall doors. He was a bit absentminded."
"Are you telling me they might have wandered away?"
"The barn door might have been left open too," she said, staring down at the table. She seemed embarrassed, and for that reason, he let the topic go. He turned away from her so she wouldn't see his astonishment. Honest to God, her husband hadn't been worth the price of air.
"What about the cabin? Parker didn't build it, did he?"
"No, he didn't. How did you know that?" It was well-constructed, and that was how he knew her husband couldn't have built it. He didn't answer her question for fear of upsetting her though, and asked another one instead. "Was he building a home for you up on higher ground?"
"No. What an odd question to ask. We moved in here."
She tried to get up from the table then, but he put his hand on her shoulder to make her stay. "Finish your breakfast. You need to regain your strength. Tell me, how did Pegasus get hurt?"
"Some of Boyle's men were shooting their guns in the air, and Pegasus reared up against the barn door."
"Was it an exposed nail that cut him?"
"No, it wasn't."
The baby drew their attention with a belch worthy of an outlaw. Isabel's smile made Douglas think she believed her son had just accomplished an amazing feat.
"I really can't eat another bite," she protested. "I'll save the food for later." She stood up before he could argue with her. "I'd like to prepare supper tonight. I just love to cook," she exaggerated. "It's… soothing. Yes, it's soothing."
He wasn't buying her lie. He burst into laughter and shook his head at her. "The oatmeal's that bad?"
Her eyes sparkled with devilment. "It tastes like cement."
They stared into one another's eyes for what seemed an eternity, and neither one of them wanted to look away.
"You've really got to stop doing that."
The huskiness in his voice made her feel warm all over. "Doing what?" she asked in a breathless whisper.
"Getting prettier every day."
"Oh." She sighed the word.
He realized what was happening before she did. He was also staring at her freckles again and quickly forced himself to look out the window instead. A movement near the tree line suddenly caught his attention. He froze. There was a shadow slowly moving down the path toward the field. He was still too far away for Douglas to see his face, but Douglas knew who was coming. The lone rider had to be Boyle. Dr. Simpson had warned him that the predator liked to look in on the woman he was terrorizing. Oh, yes, it was Boyle all right.
Douglas 's first concern was that Isabel not panic. She'd wake up the baby then, and Boyle would move his men in. Douglas continued to stare at the shadow and made his voice sound as mild as Parker's snore when he spoke to her. "Isabel, will the baby sleep for a while?"
"Oh, yes. He was up most of the night. He has to catch up on his sleep today."
She took the baby away from him and headed for the bedroom. He followed her, waited until Parker was all tucked in, and then calmly told her company was coming.
Isabel didn't panic. She began to undress instead. "How much time do I have?" she asked. She threw her robe on the bed and started unbuttoning her nightgown.