Uncharted Promises (The Uncharted Series Book 8) Page 8

  The overseer from Northcrest and the young man’s father stayed on either side of the bleeding scoundrel while Solo and the other overseer carried a lantern into the stable block to push the traders’ wagon out of the barn, horseless. Solo rolled the tall door closed and locked it. “I’ll be out at first light with your horses and to unload your trade.”

  “Agreed,” the older man said as he yanked his son toward the wagon. “You’re pulling it to the road by yourself, boy.”

  Eva stepped into Isaac’s line of sight, breaking his glare at the offender. “Isaac, you must know how grateful we are for what you did tonight.”

  He looked at Eva without really seeing her. It was dark. He was tired. The long day and longer evening had spent his energy. He faintly mumbled, “Good night.”

  As he sat on the edge of his bed in the bunkhouse, he couldn’t recall walking there from the stable block. He pulled off his boots and lay flat on his back on top of the covers, work clothes still on. The man in the next bunk was snoring. Half of the people on the property had no idea what had happened tonight. But it was all he could think about.

  What would Leonard say when he found out? The old fellow wasn’t much for talking, so it was hard to tell if he’d find Isaac’s actions heroic and it would help his chances of beating Eddie to secure the farm manager job. Or maybe Leonard would see him as a ruffian—just as he’d been called in school. Someone who would only stir up trouble for the inn and the family.

  No one ever listened to his side of the story when he was a boy, least of all his father.

  Surely Eva and Solo would relay their gratitude for Isaac’s actions to Leonard before the overseers could tell the young trader’s side of the story. Surely they would see his excuses were an admission of guilt. Maybe not guilt for all that appeared possible but for all that Isaac punished him for.

  Hopefully this wouldn’t hurt Isaac’s chances of getting the job permanently. He wanted it now more than ever. The fear that had gripped his gut when he’d heard the scuffle in Sybil’s room went beyond instinct or even chivalry. He didn’t stop to think about it at the time, but a much more powerful force moved him into action.

  She wasn’t just a woman who was in danger, nor simply the inn owner’s daughter. While he’d held her afterward in the hallway, the realization hit him harder than any punch. She certainly wasn’t just another woman to him. He was drawn to her—specifically her.

  Every time he passed the kitchen something pulled at him. It made him feel exposed, which was both delightful and dreadful all at once. The feeling kept him from the easy rapport he usually had with women and compelled him to wear a knitted scarf and eat extra portions.

  Well, maybe that was just the power of her cooking.

  A smile tugged at his dry lips.

  There was more here at Falls Creek for him than a job, and more to Sybil Roberts than the girl in the kitchen. And there might be more to his future than farming and perpetual bachelorhood, if he could secure this job. There was something between them. He owed it to himself—and to Sybil—to find out what.

  Chapter Seven

  Early the next morning, Sybil’s skin shivered even though each of the inn’s fireplaces had pumped the warmth of a burning gray leaf log throughout the house all night. She pulled a sweater on over her day dress before carrying her chamber lantern downstairs.

  There was still at least an hour before sunrise. Usually, she found her way in the dark and waited until she was in the kitchen to strike a match. She wasn’t taking any chances this morning.

  Somehow she’d slept soundly on the cot in Bailey’s room. Just knowing her athletic new friend had been a champion fighter in the outside world made her feel safe. But this morning, the soreness in her neck muscles reminded her of what had happened.

  Most days, she enjoyed being awake before everyone else. The quiet of the inn with no one downstairs made her feel like she was the lady of the house. She’d never wanted a house to herself, at least before last night. She’d always loved living here and longed for the day when her mother and brothers would return so the family could be together like they used to be, like they were supposed to be.

  But now, tiptoeing down the stairs and holding her lantern shakily in front of her through the dark hallway, she wondered what it would be like to have her own home. Not completely hers, of course. She would want a family—her own family—protected by a strong husband. They would lock the doors at night and not worry about strangers lurking in dark corners. A trill ran up her spine.

  At last, she reached the kitchen. All of its corners were too dark to see. She raised a match to the four wall sconces in the long room, then stepped into the hallway to light those too. That was Eva’s job. Not today.

  Once the kitchen was glowing brightly and the stove’s firebox kindled, she stepped to the window over the sink to look outside toward the chicken coop where she went every morning, rain or shine, to collect eggs for breakfast.

  With more light inside the room than outside, the only thing she saw in the window was her reflection. There wasn’t even a light burning in Claudia and Leonard’s cottage. Leonard was usually up before dawn. She truly was alone.

  She could make biscuits without eggs, but she still needed to go out the side door and down to the cellar for the milk and butter. A quick check of her neatly written menu had her tapping her fingers on the countertop in rapid thumps. She could not, however, make the sausage and cheese quiche without the eggs. Rearranging her cooking plans would throw her whole week’s menu into chaos. Fear or no fear, she had a kitchen to run.

  “Fine, I’ll go,” she said to the shadows as she walked to the end of the counter where she kept her egg basket.

  The basket was gone.

  Maybe Eva put it on a different shelf. She crossed the room and scanned them all. Plenty of bread baskets and fruit baskets but not her egg basket. Any old basket wouldn’t do. She used her egg basket every day to gather eggs; that’s why it was called an egg basket. She’d sewn the washable lining herself.

  She looked in the cupboards below the shelf. It wasn’t there either.

  Who would take an egg basket? The trader? He had found nothing valuable to steal in her room so he’d taken the first thing he could grab from the kitchen?

  That didn’t make sense either.

  She returned to the far end of the kitchen by the back entrance and scanned the empty space on the countertop. She’d definitely left the basket in its place yesterday, just as she did every day. Well, whatever had happened, it shouldn’t stop her from making breakfast. This was her kitchen and her family’s inn and she would cook what she’d planned to cook whether people stole from her or crept in her room or whatever.

  As she turned to fetch another basket from the shelf, the side door clattered open. She sucked in a breath and flattened herself against the inside kitchen wall. Whomever it was, she would see them enter the kitchen before they saw her.

  If only she could reach her heavy skillet from here!

  Footsteps, heavy with a man’s gait, tapped the hardwood floor, then they were muffled by the runner in the hallway. She stayed still, her back pressed firmly to the wall.

  The dark fabric of a thick wool sleeve moved through the doorway, a gloved hand outstretched, holding a basket by the handle. Her egg basket. With the man’s step forward, her eyes scanned from the boots up the work trousers and coat to the light blue knitted scarf.

  She left her hiding place, feeling childish. “Isaac?”

  He turned confidently. “Sybil. Sorry if I startled you.”

  “You didn’t.” Her cheeks warmed. “Well, maybe a little, but it isn’t your fault. I’m a tad jumpy this morning.”

  “That’s understandable.” He set the full egg basket on the countertop. “I didn’t want you to go outside in the dark this morning.”

  “How thoughtful of you. But truly, I’m fine.” Noise came from the upstairs hallway. Someone was up, so she lowered her voice. “Eva told me what y
ou did with the traders… accepting their trade on my behalf. Thank you.”

  He dipped his chin, the light from his eyes piercing her soul. “I did what I would have wanted someone to do for me.”

  A quick response gathered on her lips out of nervousness— a gush of admiration and some praise for him following the Golden Rule. She held it back and let his gaze lock with hers. He’d been living at Falls Creek for two weeks, and in that time she’d gone from hoping he would fall instantly in love with her to being confused by his casual attitude and lack of pursuit to being rescued by him.

  Now he was in her kitchen before dawn, bringing in the eggs, which was not his job, and was standing before her, looking as though he had something to say. A thin ring of black outlined his gray-blue irises making them even more striking. But beyond the color and beauty she felt him pleading with her. But why?

  When he’d first arrived, he could chat effortlessly and flirt casually and touched easily, but after she gave him the scarf, he’d seemed a bit reserved, bashful almost, behaving more like her nature than his. Maybe she didn’t know his true nature well enough yet to make assumptions at all.

  Or maybe it was the scarf.

  Bailey’s idea of giving him a present to test his feelings could have meant something daunting to him, something he wasn’t ready for. He’d said he didn’t want to think of the future. Sybil’s empty stomach knotted.

  Eva made falling in love with Solo look blissful. If this was love, why did Sybil feel miserable around Isaac? Perhaps it was just intrigue. Just a crush, as Bailey had called it.

  When she said nothing, he sank his hands in his coat pockets and looked down. He was probably miserable too.

  If he got the job permanently, they would be working and living near one another their whole lives. One day they might look back wistfully at this, the way Claudia and Leonard reminisced about the awkwardness of their first meeting, but for now it was just awkward.

  She couldn’t let it remain so. She’d spent her life at the inn and knew how to make people feel comfortable. It was in her blood. And she’d seen Eva breeze through awkward situations a hundred times, always with grace and a smile.

  All she had to do was imagine how Eva would respond to a man in this situation and act accordingly. Inwardly, she released Isaac from the lovely fantasies that had occupied her thoughts for weeks and offered him a friendly smile. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you go to work?”

  He shook his head. “I appreciate the offer though.”

  “Are you sure?” She crossed to the shelf and took down the canister of coffee leaves. “It’s no trouble.”

  “I should hurry to the barn so I can start on the morning chores before Eddie does.”

  “Of course. Thank you for gathering the eggs for me this morning. I don’t want you to feel you have to do that every morning because—”

  She felt a change in the room and turned from the shelf. He was standing close behind her, the pleading in his eyes more intense and his voice low. “I didn’t want you to go out there this morning.”

  She flicked a glance at the window as though she might see something other than darkness, someone perhaps. “Am I in danger?”

  He didn’t reply immediately but only looked toward the window. “No. They will leave at first light as they were told.” He returned his gaze to her. “Please, promise you’ll stay inside until they’re gone.”

  His request rattled her already shaky system. She’d been told the young man hadn’t gone into her room to hurt her and had only panicked when she came in. She’d been told she was safe now, and she wanted to believe it. She needed to believe it. “It would be so easy for me to give in to fear. To curl up in bed and never come out. But Bailey and I talked about it last night and I can’t live that way. I’m choosing to push through. I’m determined to carry on with my routine, with my life.”

  “And I admire that about you.” The intensity left his gaze and a grin curved his lips as he looked down at hers. “But I need to keep you safe and I need to keep working. I can only do both of those if you cooperate.”

  She couldn’t peel her gaze from his mouth as he spoke reassuring words. No man had stood this close this long with this look on his face. Isaac might have been charming, but he was no cad. Certainly, he felt something for her too, something real.

  The stairs creaked when someone descended them, and Isaac pulled away. They both glanced at the doorway as Philip stepped into the kitchen.

  “Excuse me, Miss Roberts.” He glanced between her and Isaac with a quizzical eye as if their relationship was as much of a mystery to him as it was to her. “I take a mug of coffee while I begin my morning devotions.”

  Sybil held up the canister. “I was about to brew a pot.” She tapped the lid as she looked at Isaac. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup?”

  “No, thank you.” He took a reluctant step back and wrapped his scarf around his neck. “Remember that promise.”

  “I will.” She made sure her voice was as chipper as possible. “See you at breakfast.”

  Isaac walked out to the kitchen’s back entrance and gave her one last look before he disappeared into darkness outside.

  Once the door closed, she measured out coffee leaves then carried her mother’s copper kettle to the sink. Philip was still standing inside the kitchen doorway nearest the dining hall, his hands folded in front of his proper waistcoat.

  She set the full kettle on the stove. “It’ll be a few minutes. You don’t have to wait here. I’ll serve it to you in the dining hall.”

  “I planned to use the reception room while it’s vacant.”

  “Very well.”

  “Excuse my intrusion, Miss Roberts.” He removed his round-framed spectacles. “I didn’t come to see you only for the coffee. I must inquire of your condition.”

  “Condition?”

  He inched farther into the kitchen, as though it were secret territory. “Because of last night’s incident.”

  How had he heard about it already? He’d been in his room when it happened. The overseers who’d gone outside with Solo and Eva must have told him. It was only natural that everyone at Falls Creek would know about it by breakfast, if they hadn’t been told already. And she would probably have to answer this question over and over today.

  Philip watched her as she fiddled with the coffee cups more than was necessary. He didn’t look as stern as he had last night when she’d been short with him after hearing he’d soon be the leader of their little community.

  He tilted his head slightly while he patiently awaited her answer. She took a second look at him and recognized his expression. “Please, don’t pity me.” The words blurted from her lips before she cared to stop them. “Last night was certainly a shock… scary to say the least. But as I just told Isaac, I’m fine. I don’t want to be pitied.”

  “It isn’t pity I feel for you, Miss Roberts. It’s genuine concern.”

  Must she deal with this all day? “No need to concern yourself with me.”

  “But there is. As the overseer of Falls Creek, all church members’ wellbeing is my concern.”

  She poured his coffee as quickly as possible. “Ah, then put your professional consideration to rest, sir. For I am quite well and must get to work.”

  He accepted the cup, though perhaps not her dismissal. “My concern for you is more than that, beyond my profession even. Any time a woman is treated the way you were last night—” He stopped his sentence short and closed his eyes as if clearing distasteful emotions from his mind. When he opened his eyes, he looked at her kindly. “I prayed for you half the night.”

  There was more to him than a dapperly dressed man starting a church, preparing to oversee a village that wasn’t yet a village. He was firm but kind, and had spent hours in prayer on her behalf. That alone warmed her heart.

  “I believe God answered your prayer graciously. Aside from a little muscle stiffness and a fear of the dark, I’m quite well this morning.”
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  “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

  “That’s very kind.” She took down a tin of yesterday’s cookies and opened the lid. “Would you like one with your coffee?”

  A grin creased the lines around his mouth. He shook his head. “Just the coffee will suffice for now.”

  * * *

  Isaac walked Chloe into her stable after spending two hours out surveying the fields with Leonard and Eddie. While he’d listened to Leonard explain the farm’s crop history, which grains grew best in which fields, and which areas near the creek were flood-prone, Eddie had frequently interrupted. Isaac’s wiry young rival for the job repeatedly cracked his boney knuckles one at a time while asking Leonard irrelevant questions like where the best fishing spots were and how come nobody else lived out here.

  Isaac could only hope Leonard was getting as annoyed with Eddie as he was.

  Finally in the peace of the stable block, he slowed his thoughts while he ran a curry comb over his chestnut mare. “I’ll bet you’re glad to be back in here, aren’t you girl?”

  She pointed her ears toward him and nudged the feed bucket with her white nose.

  “You like the oats at Falls Creek. It’s the soil here. Perfect for growing oats. I’ll raise an extra acre of them just for you if I get this job.” He lowered his voice even though no one was in the stables. “And between you and me, I think my chances are getting better every day.”

  Leonard had praised Isaac’s quick action and handling of the scoundrel in Sybil’s room, and even Frederick had mumbled his gratitude at lunch. Half of the visiting overseers had stopped Isaac at some point during his morning barn chores and said the inn was blessed to have such a man working here. And before he’d left to survey the fields, Eva had come to the stable block to inspect the trade Isaac procured for Sybil’s restitution.

  “She will leave every bit of it sitting right here,” Eva had said of Sybil. “Won’t do a thing with it.” Then she lifted her petite chin at Isaac. “But if some kind gentleman were to trade it for, say, piano music, now that she would joyfully accept.”