Page 21 of Her Gentle Protector
Petunia snorted. “Well, he better like the smell of swamp.” Sliding her slingshot in her pocket, she turned and sauntered out of the barn.
Baxter turned back to Midge. “Now about that cat...”
“Will they stay out here?” she asked.
“Are you afraid of a cat?”
Midge nodded slowly. “Afraid of what they might eat. I have nothing to feed them.”
He pointed out the barn to the field. “There is a whole hunting ground out there for them. In fact, this might be a cat paradise.”
“Can I go with you? When you get the kittens?” Berry asked. “I wanna see them.”
Baxter leaned down and looked at her freckled-coated face. “Not this time, sweetheart. I can’t risk you getting sick, but I promise I’ll take you there soon and you can see all the animals.” Straightening up, he looked around. “Where’s the oldest boy?”
“Peter?” Midge looked at the children’s faces. “He disappeared over to the Picketts’.”
“He shouldn’t be anywhere with the fever going around. In fact, he should help around here. Where’s your wheelbarrow?”
“We don’t have one. Don’t be so hard on Peter,” Midge pleaded. “This has been very hard on him.”
“Looks like it has been hard on everyone.” Baxter’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across so harshly. It’s just frustrating to see an able-body young man doing nothing.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Midge put her hand on his arm. “I promise.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” Looking once more at the barn, he sighed. “I can’t do anything else here, so I might as well head home. I’ll bring the kittens over tomorrow and some tools. We can get started then.”
“Thank you,” she said with a small smile.
With a nod, Baxter turned and walked out of the barn. As he made his way to his horse, he couldn’t help but wonder why Midge let Peter get away with so much. When Baxter was his age, he was working from dawn till dusk on his father’s farm, doing whatever he could to help his family survive.Maybe there was something he was missing.
As Daisy pulled the wagon down the road, he couldn’t help but think about the feisty Petunia and her aversion to bathing. Chuckling to himself, he knew that at some point she’d take a liking to a young man, and she’d want to get rid of her buckskins and that horrible raccoon cap. He had to give her credit, though. She had what Ma would call gumption.
Few women would go out hunting to put food on the table. He was proud of her for getting two birds, if only for the look on Marmee’s face when Petunia tossed them on the pristine leather bench.
As he neared the split in the road which divided the Hartman land from the Chapman land, he saw Petunia emerge from the corn, waving her hand. “Hey, Mr. Hartman!”
Baxter pulled back on the reins, bringing the wagon to a halt. “Petunia? What are you doing down here?”
“The quail is in the corn. It’s easy pickings if you know how to find ‘em.” She gave him a grin and scratched her belly beneath the buckskin jacket. “You headed home?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna go get the stuff to fix the barn and the roof.”
“Can I go with you? I promise I won’t be much of a bother.”
Baxter rubbed his cheek, curling his lips slightly. “Not much, huh?”
She lifted her hand, crossing her chest, then her eyes. “Hope to die...”
Guffawing, Baxter shook his shoulders. “Don’t even say that.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Climb in the back, and don’t touch my pillows.”
“I don’t get to ride up front?”
“Not until you take a bath.”
Petunia put one foot on the wheel and hoisted herself over the side of the wagon. “You got any trapping supplies?”
“Yah.” He tapped Daisy, and the wagon lurched forward. “I have a few. What are you looking for, and why do you want them?”
