“I’m coming,” Hyke called mumbling under his breath as he carried a heavy crate into the kitchen. “I’ll fetch the rest of the supplies.”
Cecil couldn’t help but grin at the older man’s face when he hefted the crate onto a counter top. When Mrs. August was looking, he was all smiles and civility, but the minute she turned her back, the old man stuck his tongue out at her, wheeling and hurrying outside before he could be seen.
“Urgh!” Mrs. August groaned looking down at the cat, who had finished her mouse and now sprawled contentedly in her crate with her kittens. “Look at the mess,” she reached down and lifted the remains of the mice, walking briskly to the door and throwing them outside. “Does that creature have to be in my kitchen?”
Cecil ran a hand over his face, suppressing a smile. “If you want to be rid of the mice in the kitchen, I would say yes. I’ve left the basement door open so she can come and go as she needs to,” he added. “I’m sure in time the two of you will be great friends.”
Mrs. August gave the man a sharp look, but said nothing as she poured water from a jar that had been in the crate into the coffee pot.
“I’ll go help Hyke,” Cecil said walking out of the kitchen before his laughter got the better of him. A good cup of coffee would brighten his eyes and set him to rights. There was too much to be done to be bleary eyed all day.
“Bossy old woman,” Hyke grumbled, stopping with a blush when Cecil joined him.
“I couldn’t believe it when she agreed to travel out here with us.” The younger man grinned. “I keep wondering if she wants this whole thing to fail, so we’ll turn around and go back to New York.”
“I can’t rightly say,” Hyke shifted another heavy crate full of food in his arms. “She ain’t afraid to get her hands dirty. There might be hope yet.”
Cecil grinned watching the old man walk away. With all the grumbling the two older members of the household did with each other, he thought Hyke might wish her gone, but maybe he wasn’t seeing the whole picture.
“Uncle Cecil,” Beverly, raced to her uncle. “Where’s my cat? Can I see her? Can she live in my room? What should I name her?”
Cecil chuckled. The children were certainly getting a new kind of education. “She’s in the kitchen and already doing her part to reduce the rodent population. Go in and see her, but I think for now she should stay where she is.”
“Thank you!” Beverly threw her arms around her uncle, squeezing him tight, before racing into the house.
Cecil watched the girl run into the sad old house and felt something unlock in his heart. He had cared for his niece and nephew before, doing his best to see that they were provided for, but this was different. He was coming to know them as individuals with a special place in his heart.
“Mr. Payton, are you feeling well?” Hester walked up to the back of the wagon reaching for a pail and mop. “You look rather odd.”
“I’m fine.” Cecil blinked his brain back into gear, turning to smile at Hester. “I think this is all finally starting to sink in.”
Hester offered the man a kind smile. “There is a great deal of adjustment ahead. Miss Polly sent your breakfast by the way. I think Mrs. August is getting it ready.”
Shifting the crate in his hands, Cecil headed for the front door and a future that was still unclear. Today he would tackle the most pressing jobs at the house, and let tomorrow be a fresh start.
***
“What’s that noise?” Mrs. August asked as she served an informal lunch at the kitchen table. “It sounds terrible.”
“I’ll see!” Jonas sprang from his seat, his napkin falling to the floor as he raced to the back door. “Sheep!” The boy shouted racing out onto the long back porch.
“Those aren’t sheep, those are goats.” Beverly joined her brother as she watched a man on a smoke gray horse trailing behind the bleating animals.
“Why are some smaller than others?”
“They’re babies,” Bev grinned.
“Children come back inside and eat your meal.” Hester gauged that it would take another ten minutes for the man to wrangle the slow moving animals to the house. “We’ll all go out when you finish.”
“I’m going now!” Jonas started for the stairs but Hester grasped his arm. “Lunch first,” she stated, meeting his scowl with one of her own.
“Come on,” Bev urged her brother. “We’ll eat fast.”
Lunch was over in record time, and the children stood waiting impatiently with there uncle as the rider reached the back porch.
“Hello,” Cecil greeted. “You must be the man Mr. Olson mentioned. He said you might bring sheep.”
“Hello,” the man replied pushing his hat up on his head a pitch black curls. “I’m Bruno Sparak, I live a few miles south of you.” He midnight blue eyes sparkled as the children bounced beside their uncle.
“Pleased to meet you Bruno,” Cecil said. “This is my niece Beverly and my nephew Jonas. They’ve never been around goats before.”
Bruno crossed his arms over his saddle horn, leaning forward to peer at the children while the goats spread out on the overly tall grass. “Well this lot is a pretty tame bunch. My wife likes to fuss over them you see. We keep them and a donkey to help keep the sheep out of trouble. Sheep aren’t as smart or as able to defend themselves as goats.”
“Can I pet one?” Beverly asked clasping her hands tight as she tried to contain her excitement.
“Come on over and I’ll introduce you.” Bruno swung down from his horse as the children raced forward. “Go slow now; you don’t want to startle any of them. This is Smoke,” he indicated his horse. “He’s a
