With a shrug, Trace added, “I’ve decided his fur is made to withstand winter. But it looks like he can’t withstand not being with Maddie Sue.”
Deb thought Trace looked a little . . . betrayed. Like a kid who found out his best friend was playing with someone else.
Then she remembered her manners. “Thank you all for giving up your beds last night.” She looked back at Trace. “Would you like me to get a meal on for all of you?”
Trace froze for a minute, as if her words had overwhelmed him, then perked up at the offer. And what man didn’t perk up for food? “None of us is a hand at cooking, Deb. We get by eatin’ mighty plain. You cooking would be a fine thing.”
The men all crowded in and pushed Trace over the doorstep. “I’d be pleased to get a meal on if you’ll tell me what food supplies you have and where I can get wood to build up the fire.”
There had been a small stack of wood by the fireplace, but she’d used it up trying to keep the little cabin warm. It was impossible with the wind whistling straight through the many cracks in the walls.
One of the men stepped back so fast he bumped into someone else, then almost shouted, “I’ll get wood.” He then vanished around the side of the cabin.
Well, she couldn’t really say he vanished because she saw him through the wall. The logs were so uneven, and so poorly chinked, she could see right through.
“We have chickens, ma’am. I’ll fetch eggs,” a gray-haired man offered with a grin. “The cow needs milking before we can eat.” The man was far enough inside he caught sight of a bucket sitting by the wall near the front door. He grabbed it and rushed off.
Gwen finished. Maddie Sue hopped off Ronnie and dove at the dog.
Ronnie burst into loud wailing tears and cried, “Want my mama!”
Cooing and whispering, Gwen picked up Ronnie, who kicked and thrashed in her arms. Gwen held him close, trying to comfort him.
“Mama, Mama.”
Maddie Sue had heard the little one cry plenty of times, it seemed, because she ignored him and tugged on the dog’s ears.
Ronnie’s crying got even louder. “Mama!”
“Poor little guy.” Trace brushed past Deb.
She’d expected him to run off with the other men. But now that the diapering was finished, he might stay. She swung the door shut.
“Mama!”
Trace reached for the toddler and pulled him into his arms.
“Papa?” Ronnie broke off the crying.
“Hush, little one, don’t cry. I lost my papa and mama, too.” Trace held him and, for no reason Deb could understand, the struggling and kicking stopped. The boy wrapped his chubby arms around Trace’s neck and cried softly now. Trace held him and patted him, murmuring things she couldn’t quite make out. Deb did hear Trace say, “The voice of one crying in the wilderness.”
He’d said that yesterday, and she’d been amused by it because it really fit Ronnie, and yet it missed the meaning of the Bible verse completely. As she was sure Trace knew.
Anything else Trace said was too softly spoken and meant only for Ronnie’s ears. The two swayed slowly, gently side to side.
Maddie Sue happily tormented the poor, patient wolf-dog. While the dog seemed to be content, Deb intervened to protect the poor critter and sat on the floor with Maddie Sue on her lap.
“Gentle touches, Maddie Sue. Be gentle with the nice dog.” She tried to teach the girl.
The crying eased until finally Ronnie lifted his face from Trace’s chest and looked down at the floor. Ronnie pointed down and said, “Dog.”
The storm had passed.
Trace lowered him to where Maddie Sue sat on the floor. Ronnie dropped down beside her, and Maddie Sue made a very precious effort to teach Ronnie how to be gentle with a wolf.
Gwen moved to block the fireplace. The boy tended to toddle straight toward whatever was most dangerous.
“I’ll go get some bacon and flour,” Trace said. “There are plenty of supplies in the root cellar. If one of you comes along, I can show you the place so you can help yourselves. I really appreciate that you’re cooking for us.”
Deb took a second to try to remember her pa ever once thanking her for anything.
“Deb, you go. I’ll watch the youngsters.”
Deb wondered at Trace’s courage when the others had run. She didn’t really blame them—they weren’t used to children, but neither was Trace as far as she knew.
As they walked outside, the sun was just barely easing the sky from black to gray. Deb looked around. Neither of the hired hands was in sight, although she did hear wood being chopped. She was tempted to shout that Ronnie was all done being diapered. But she figured the men would risk returning eventually. In the meantime, she followed Trace to a door covering a hole in the ground.
Trace held open the door and let Deb walk down the stone steps to his cellar. At the bottom he lit a lantern that he kept down here.
“There’s milk and eggs. The men could’ve waited until after breakfast to do chores.” She gave Trace a grin.
“That diaperin’ is enough to run off a man.” Trace smiled back. “What all do you need? I’ve got flour and a side of bacon. Sourdough starter that Adam knew how to make.”
He started picking up whatever he thought they’d need. “Utah and Adam haven’t been around little ones much. Sorry they ran off. But I don’t blame them one speck.”
“Let me help.” Deb reached out, and Trace handed
