Read Online The Western Dare (Harlequin Heartwarming) by Roz Denny Fox - Free Book Online
Authors: Roz Denny Fox
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called to Mark, who stood nearby talking with Jared Boone.
Emily was furious that Sherry Campbell’s brother had caught her staring like a ninny. Worse, she was doing it again—feeling sorry for a man. It’d been Dave’s charming helplessness that had first ensnared her. Emily the nurturer. Vanguard to the vulnerable. A role that became oppressive when her husband’s boyish foibles had ballooned into endless affairs and lies. A shudder coursed through her. The sight of Mark loping back fueled her resolve to ignore Nolan Campbell from here on out. She pasted a smile on her face lest Mark see more than she wanted him to see. Though maybe she’d been wrong trying to keep the unpleasant side of her marriage from the kids...
“Mom...Mom! Jared brought fishing gear. He said I could buy a rod and stuff in Council Grove. His dad says we’ll be camping on the Neosho River, and that he’ll take Jared and me fishing.”
“I don’t know, Mark,” Emily said carefully. “How...how expensive is fishing gear?” After paying bills out of her last check, plus their rent in advance for the summer, she had exactly three hundred dollars in the bank for school clothes and food until she got paid again in September. Not counting the stipend Camp was paying.
Mark’s excitement died. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked a rock into the fire. It clanged against the coffeepot and ricocheted off their neighbor’s grate. “I didn’t wanna go fishing anyhow.” Brushing past his mother, he darted between the wagons.
Sighing, Emily massaged her temples. At least Nolan Campbell had disappeared. Her money woes were no one else’s business. She freshened her tea and sank onto a log bathed in silvery moonlight. A perfect setting for a mythical hero to gallop through on his white charger. The fantasy, at least, restored her sense of humor.
Megan Benton reached out of the wagon and grabbed her brother as he ran past. “Psst...Mark. Day after tomorrow in Council Grove, call Toby. He’ll let you put the fishing stuff on his credit card. Better yet, maybe he’ll come get us.”
The boy perked up, then slumped again. “Nah, Mom don’t want us callin’ them.”
“Who cares?” Megan jutted her pointed little chin. “Mona and Toby footed the bills while Dad was alive. You tell me why Mom’s suddenly so picky.”
“How do you know they paid?” he asked, turning to run smack into Camp, who’d stepped to the back of his wagon to throw out his inedible biscuits. The bacon, charred beyond recognition, he’d scraped into the fire.
The boy sucked in a deep breath. “You spying on us?”
“No, but I heard you mention fishing gear.” He tossed one of his rock-solid biscuits into the air and caught it. “These’d double as a sinker,” he said around a laugh.
Mark dug one out of the pan. “What are they?”
“They’re supposed to be biscuits like your mother’s.” Camp heaved one into the woods. It cracked against a tree. “I’ll give you ten dollars for the ones she has left.”
“No way!” Megan spoke up. “We’re toasting those for breakfast.”
“Oh. Tell you what, Mark. I’ll lend you my fishing pole in exchange for her recipe. Only...don’t mention that I want it.”
“Why not?” Suspicion laced Mark’s words. “Why not just ask your sister?”
Camp drew a hand over his jaw. “I figure she’s gone to bed,” he muttered. “It’s no biggie. You kids go ahead and turn in. Soon as I wash dishes, I’m headed for bed myself.” He fired the remaining lumps of hard dough into the trees, and walked back to the basin where he’d put the other pans to soak. In a final act of despair, he poured out the weak coffee. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d double the beans and try again.
From the corner of his eye Camp noticed that Emily sat gazing at the moon. Occasionally she sipped from a cup. If it’d been coffee, he’d have crawled over on hands and knees to beg a cup. But it was tea. He didn’t
Emily was furious that Sherry Campbell’s brother had caught her staring like a ninny. Worse, she was doing it again—feeling sorry for a man. It’d been Dave’s charming helplessness that had first ensnared her. Emily the nurturer. Vanguard to the vulnerable. A role that became oppressive when her husband’s boyish foibles had ballooned into endless affairs and lies. A shudder coursed through her. The sight of Mark loping back fueled her resolve to ignore Nolan Campbell from here on out. She pasted a smile on her face lest Mark see more than she wanted him to see. Though maybe she’d been wrong trying to keep the unpleasant side of her marriage from the kids...
“Mom...Mom! Jared brought fishing gear. He said I could buy a rod and stuff in Council Grove. His dad says we’ll be camping on the Neosho River, and that he’ll take Jared and me fishing.”
“I don’t know, Mark,” Emily said carefully. “How...how expensive is fishing gear?” After paying bills out of her last check, plus their rent in advance for the summer, she had exactly three hundred dollars in the bank for school clothes and food until she got paid again in September. Not counting the stipend Camp was paying.
Mark’s excitement died. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked a rock into the fire. It clanged against the coffeepot and ricocheted off their neighbor’s grate. “I didn’t wanna go fishing anyhow.” Brushing past his mother, he darted between the wagons.
Sighing, Emily massaged her temples. At least Nolan Campbell had disappeared. Her money woes were no one else’s business. She freshened her tea and sank onto a log bathed in silvery moonlight. A perfect setting for a mythical hero to gallop through on his white charger. The fantasy, at least, restored her sense of humor.
Megan Benton reached out of the wagon and grabbed her brother as he ran past. “Psst...Mark. Day after tomorrow in Council Grove, call Toby. He’ll let you put the fishing stuff on his credit card. Better yet, maybe he’ll come get us.”
The boy perked up, then slumped again. “Nah, Mom don’t want us callin’ them.”
“Who cares?” Megan jutted her pointed little chin. “Mona and Toby footed the bills while Dad was alive. You tell me why Mom’s suddenly so picky.”
“How do you know they paid?” he asked, turning to run smack into Camp, who’d stepped to the back of his wagon to throw out his inedible biscuits. The bacon, charred beyond recognition, he’d scraped into the fire.
The boy sucked in a deep breath. “You spying on us?”
“No, but I heard you mention fishing gear.” He tossed one of his rock-solid biscuits into the air and caught it. “These’d double as a sinker,” he said around a laugh.
Mark dug one out of the pan. “What are they?”
“They’re supposed to be biscuits like your mother’s.” Camp heaved one into the woods. It cracked against a tree. “I’ll give you ten dollars for the ones she has left.”
“No way!” Megan spoke up. “We’re toasting those for breakfast.”
“Oh. Tell you what, Mark. I’ll lend you my fishing pole in exchange for her recipe. Only...don’t mention that I want it.”
“Why not?” Suspicion laced Mark’s words. “Why not just ask your sister?”
Camp drew a hand over his jaw. “I figure she’s gone to bed,” he muttered. “It’s no biggie. You kids go ahead and turn in. Soon as I wash dishes, I’m headed for bed myself.” He fired the remaining lumps of hard dough into the trees, and walked back to the basin where he’d put the other pans to soak. In a final act of despair, he poured out the weak coffee. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d double the beans and try again.
From the corner of his eye Camp noticed that Emily sat gazing at the moon. Occasionally she sipped from a cup. If it’d been coffee, he’d have crawled over on hands and knees to beg a cup. But it was tea. He didn’t
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