UNBROKEN PROMISE

~41~ What do they want? 🧐

Oma hurried down the hallway, her hands clenched tightly around the cleaning rags she had picked up from the kitchen. Her mind swirled with thoughts of her uncle and aunt. Their sudden arrival, Ezra’s comments, and the sly undertone of his so-called “personal business” had left her stomach tied in knots. She tried to focus on the task at hand, clearing out the guest room to give herself something to do—anything to distract her from the unease that sat heavily in her chest.

As she stepped into the room, Megan appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed and a frown etched across her face. “Alright, spill it, Oma. What’s goin’ on with them two?”

Oma paused, placing a stack of fresh linens on the bed. “I... I don’t know exactly,” she admitted, her voice soft. “Uncle Ezra said he wants to talk about some personal business, but he didn’t say much more than that. And...” She hesitated, her throat tightening as she thought of his condescending tone. “I think they’re here to meddle.”

Megan’s frown deepened. “Well, I don’t like ‘em,” she said bluntly. “Not one bit. Somethin’ about the way they look at you... it don’t sit right.”

Oma gave her a weak smile, shrugging as she began dusting the room. “They’re family,” she said quietly. “What can I do?”

“You can tell ‘em to get lost,” Megan said flatly, stepping further into the room. “Ain’t like they’ve done much for you before now. Why’re they even here, anyway? After all this time?”

Oma sighed, setting the duster down and meeting Megan’s eyes. “I don’t know, Megan. But they’re stayin’, and I’ve got to deal with it.”

Megan opened her mouth to argue, but she caught the weary look in Oma’s eyes and thought better of it. Instead, she huffed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play nice with ‘em,” she muttered.

Oma let out a small, dry chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

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Once the guest room was prepared, Oma showed Ezra and Clara to their quarters. The room was simple but tidy, with freshly laundered sheets and a small vase of wildflowers Oma had placed on the bedside table in an attempt to make it more welcoming.

“This will do, I suppose,” Clara said, eyeing the room critically as she fanned herself.

Ezra nodded, his expression unreadable. “Thank you, Caro—I mean, Oma,” he said, his tone cliped.

Logan stood in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space as he watched the exchange. “Your stagecoach can stay in the ranch hand quarters,” he said gruffly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Ezra gave him a tight smile. “Much obliged,” he said smoothly, though the tension between the two men was very much evident .

Oma glanced at Logan, her heart sinking at the guarded expression on his face. She knew he was keeping his emotions in check, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t trust Ezra any more than she did.

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Meanwhile, upstairs in Caleb’s room, Megan sat on the edge of the bed, a bowl of herb-laden soup in her hands. Caleb’s fever had finally started to break, and his little cheeks were flushed pink, but he was alert and smiling weakly as he leaned against the pillows. Cookie lay at his side, his nose resting on Caleb’s leg as if keeping watch.

“Alright, baby boy,” Megan said softly, holding a spoonful of soup to his lips. “Eat up, now. You need this to get your strength back.”

Caleb obediently opened his mouth, swallowing the soup with a small smile. “It tastes good, Mama,” he murmured.