She smiled. “Not in the past thirty minutes, but I like hearing it.”
He pressed her hand against the steady beat of his heart and stared into her pretty gray eyes. “You were amazing with her. With both of them. There are so many forgotten Creek children living on their own out here. After the war, so many families were torn apart and parents killed. It has been hard for the Creeks to find peace again. To trust again.”
“I don’t think it matters where a child lives or what culture they’re from if they’ve lost everything and are alone. Loss is universal, and the only way to overcome it is lots of patience, understanding, and love.”
He followed his wife’s gaze as she watched Summer and Billy walk ahead of them, their new home in the distance. “Children are stronger than adults give them credit for. These two will be fine. They have each other—and now they have us.”
Once they got back home, Josiah hitched up his buckskin to the wagon and everyone piled in for the short trip to Eufaula. The mercantile was small but seemed to have everything they needed. Mia gave her list to part owner of the store, Sam Grayson, who promptly filled it. Josiah saw the children eyeing a few things and added those to their order, as well.
When everything was wrapped and loaded, they headed north to the ranch Harjo had mentioned at dinner the night before. The trip passed uneventfully, and they found themselves eating an early supper of beans and tortillas with the ranch hands and owner, Mr. Calyer, who agreed to sell Josiah six head of cattle and one steer. Thankfully, they agreed to drive the cattle down in a couple of days, which would give Josiah time to build a corral big enough for them to hold them.
On the way home, Josiah counted his blessings, although deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop. Nothing in his life had ever gone so well. Whenever good things happened, bad things usually followed. It had always been that way.
“Are you thinking about what Mr. Calyer said about the thieves?” Mia whispered, her cheek against his shoulder and her face turned up to the night sky. The lights from a million stars reflected in her beautiful eyes.
Josiah glanced over his shoulder, but both children seemed to be asleep. “I would be stupid not to be. Harjo has been following their trail, but they seem to be an elusive bunch. Part of me wonders if Summer or Billy might not know more than they’ve let on. One of the other orphans they know, Johnny, runs with the outlaws. Harjo says the boy's no good and was born that way.”
“What do you believe?”
Josiah leaned down and kissed his wife’s nose. “I don’t know what I believe anymore. Since leaving home, I’ve seen a lot of good and a lot of bad. I guess we will just have to reserve judgment until we meet Johnny ourselves, if and when we ever do.”
Chapter 6
Mia kneaded the bread, folding the dough in half, then once again. She repeated the action several more times to make sure all the flour was good and blended. She placed the large mound of dough into the bowl, covered it with a thin dishtowel, and set it on the still-warm stovetop, gently pushing the coffeepot out of the way.
She poured the last of the coffee into her cup then rinsed the pot out and placed it on the counter, knowing Josiah would want a couple of cups with his lunch, which she would need to start soon.
Glancing at the pretty brass clock sitting on the mantel above the fireplace, she realized soon was already here. The morning had sped by in a blur and it was almost noon. With a long sigh, she sat at the table and sipped her coffee. The heat seeped through her and relaxed her sore arm muscles, which still shook. She hadn’t made bread in years. The last time had been when the cook at the school had gotten sick with influenza, so she and Jessamine had taken it upon themselves to learn how.
The first couple of batches had been disasters, but by the third, both girls had thoroughly taken to the task and had actually begun to enjoy the pounding and kneading of the dough. Mia even created a sweetbread by adding sugar to the dough then, just before baking, brushing the loaves with butter and drizzling milk and sprinkling cinnamon on top. Everyone loved it.
It had been a few years since she’d thought about baking. Teaching had been paramount and had taken every minute of her day. She loved being with the children, especially at reading time. Depending on which book she chose, the students would get immersed in the story. Bringing the characters to life for them was the best part. In a way, it was like giving them an escape from their own lives for a moment in time. It was how she’d coped with her own life growing up.
“Mia?”
"Hmmm?" She glanced around to find Summer standing by the table. “Did you need something?”
“Well, I was wondering if you would teach me how to do something like that.”
Mia frowned, not understanding what the girl meant. “Something like what?”
Summer pointed at the bread bowl. “What you were doing a minute ago—with that?”
“You want to learn how to make bread?”
Summer nodded. “I want to learn how to make things to eat, for Billy.”
Tears burned behind Mia’s eyes, but she refused to let the nine-year-old see how her words affected her. She knew Summer would not appreciate the emotion. “I would love to teach you how to cook. That’s what I was thinking about when you asked. Not the cooking part, but the teaching. That’s what I did in New York. I was a teacher at an orphanage. That’s a school for children who don’t have a family to take care of them, so they live full time at the school.” She met Summer’s steady brown gaze. “It’s where I grew up, too.”
Summer’s brows twitched as if she started to frown but stopped. “You didn’t have a family?”
“No. The headmistress found me on the front steps of the orphanage in a basket with my name written on a note pinned to my blanket. My arm had been badly broken and set in a cast. I’ve lived there my entire life, and stayed to teach the new children who came to live there.
“I would like to teach you and Billy, since you aren’t in school here. Would you let me do that? You can learn how to read and write, American and world history, and anything else you might be interested in—including cooking.” She hesitated, then gave Summer a tentative smile. “Would you like that?”
“Our last teacher told me and Billy we were…dense…and could never learn much of anything.”
Mia shook her head and bit back her angry retort about the teacher’s obvious stupidity. “Everyone learns a little differently and at different stages. What is easy for one person may be difficult for another. Take me, for instance. Numbers are not easy for me, but I studied hard and after a lot of late nights, I finally memorized my multiplication tables and passed my exam. I won’t lie to you, it wasn’t easy, but I wanted to pass. The only person holding you back, Summer, isyou.”