Page 214 of Conveniently Wed
Mrs. Kinsley stepped into the hall. “Her leg will have to be splinted, and she’ll have to stay off it for several weeks. Six at least. Given her age, it will likely take longer.”
Six weeks or more. They’d be at their destination before she was better. Somehow, he’d have to do all the camp chores, take care of Aunt Mary and tend the animals as well. Plus keep his aunt comfortable. He’d be sure and stock up on medical supplies, including laudanum.
He followed Mrs. Kinsley back into the kitchen. The long wooden table had been set with white china plates, reminding him of Aunt Mary’s home and what she’d been forced to give up. A big steaming pot sat in the middle of the table alongside a platter piled high with golden biscuits. The aroma filledhis nostrils. His stomach growled loudly. Donny giggled, and Blossom gave a Bruce a shy smile.
Bruce shifted his gaze to their mother, who studied him with what he perceived to be warning, though why she should feel a need to warn him, and of what, was a mystery.
A tall man with graying brown hair and piercing gray eyes entered the house and smiled at the others. His gaze rested on Bruce.
Mrs. Kinsley drew the man forward. “Jacob, this is Mr. Reynolds. He’s brought his aunt who has burns and a broken leg. I’ll need some splints.” She turned to Bruce. “My husband, the preacher.”
Bruce had known this was the preacher’s house. But now, seeing the man face to face, knowing without a doubt he was a man who wouldn’t abide careless living, his insides grew brittle, even though he’d done nothing to earn this man’s judgment.
But then, he’d done nothing to earn judgment of the preacher back home either, and it hadn’t made any difference.
The preacher smiled. “Welcome. Glad you found us.”
Bruce’s tension eased a bit, and they shook hands. The preacher then returned his attention to his wife. “Do I need to get the splints immediately?”
“No, Miss Rivers is resting at the moment. After dinner will be soon enough. Mr. Reynolds, please join us.” She indicated a chair at the table, and, with a word of thanks, he sat.
The preacher washed his hands then sat at Bruce’s left. “Is this all that will be joining us for the meal?”
Mrs. Kinsley sat at her husband’s left. “Mrs. Andrews and her girls rented a wagon and have gone north to see if they can locate her husband.”
Mrs. Norwood sat across from Bruce with her children on either side of her. Again, that warning look. Reminiscent of the many judging looks back in Kansas, it was enough to makehim squirm. Why was Mrs. Norwood so ready to judge him? Thankfully, the preacher announced he would ask the blessing, and Bruce bowed his head.
“Amen.”
He’d not heard a word of the prayer. Hopefully the preacher wouldn’t know that.
“Stew?” The preacher held a ladle full over Bruce’s plate. His noisy stomach growled again.
The preacher chuckled. “I think that means yes.”
It was all Bruce could do to wait for everyone to be served before he began to eat. The flavors of tender venison and fresh vegetables exploded in his mouth. “This is good. Thank you to the cook.”
“That would be Stella,” the preacher said. “She’s a great cook. She made the biscuits too.”
Bruce had just taken a bite of one, and it practically melted in his mouth. “I’d say she was an excellent cook.” He knew his eyes brimmed with approval. Enough to make her dip her head.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He again sensed her disapproval, though he could not guess as to its cause.
“So, young Mr. Reynolds.” The preacher’s voice drew Bruce’s attention. “Tell us about yourself. Where are you from, and what brings you to the little town of Glory, Montana Territory?”
“He comed in a wagon,” Blossom said, favoring him with a bright smile.
Everyone chuckled at her innocent cleverness, then Bruce felt all eyes upon him. “I’m on my way to Washington Territory.” How could he explain why he was going without giving people reason to question his character?
“You won’t be able to travel now.” Mrs. Kinsley seemed quite certain of the fact. “Your aunt will need to recover.”
“I thought…” He swallowed hard, aware of three adults watching him. “Well, I have my wagon. She’ll be comfortable in that.” He spoke more out of hope than assurance. There was no way he could prevent her from jostling about as they navigated the rough terrain.
“People certainly have traveled with broken limbs.” Mrs. Kinsley’s voice was gentle, but Bruce wondered if there was steel behind them. “However, given her age and the fact she has burns as well, I would caution you against putting her in those conditions. Let her rest until she’s healed is my advice. Normally, I would invite you to stay here, but we are full.”
He stared at this empty plate. “I have only my wagon.”
