A Texas Legacy Christmas by DiAnn Mills Read Free Book Online

him this morning. Curly had been humiliated and defensive at the same time. How had those two managed at the orphanage or on the street?
    A woman used to pick up the laundry from the boardinghouse and return it later. He hoped that was still the procedure, considering they would be staying there until he found a home for them. God must have known what He was doing when He urged Zack to save his earnings. He also could have warned Zack about a few things regarding a pair of six-year-olds.
    At the foot of the stairs, he opened a door and inhaled tantalizing smells that tugged at his empty stomach. Another door opened to the kitchen. An old man with an apron stirred something in a bowl, and Chloe pulled plates from a cabinet. He gulped. The little girl he remembered sure had changed.
    Clearing his throat, he forged ahead. “Ah, morning.” Awkwardness for what he carried in his arms hit him like a blast of New York wind.
    Chloe swung her attention his way and smiled. “Why, good morning, Zack.” She walked his way and took the sheets from his arms, then deposited them in a heap outside the door behind him as though the problem was common place. “We’ll have these taken care of today. And I’ll remake the bed after breakfast.”
    “I’m sorry. One of the twins had an accident.” He ventured to study her face. For a moment, he thought he’d drown. An image of the little girl who always thanked him with her wide eyes and sweet smile flashed across his mind.
    “Don’t think a moment about it. What else do you need?”
    “A pitcher of water . . . for the wash basin.” What had come over him? Words had fled from his brain.
    “Certainly.” She reached into the cabinet again and pulled out a pitcher. “I’ll make sure it’s warm.”
    While she busied herself with the water, he observed an old man who poured eggs into a huge skillet. “I’m Zack Kahler.”
    The whiskered old man nodded. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Simeon, the cook. I’d shake your hand, but they’re soaked in onion and jalapeños.”
    “Sure smells good.” All this time, Zack watched Chloe from the corner of his eye. Hadn’t he decided that no woman would ever capture his attention again after Elizabeth had pierced his heart? Yet in all of her finery, Miss Elizabeth had never possessed the same beauty as his eyes feasted on this moment.
    “Here you are.” Chloe held out the pitcher and draped a cloth over it.
    “Thanks.” He took the pitcher and lingered a moment longer on her face. If not for the high cheekbones, she could have passed for the Italian women he’d seen in New York. Not that her Indian heritage bothered him. He’d seen a mix in America’s melting pot. The people of this country weren’t known for color or race but for their courage and purpose. He had no use for prejudice. No time for it. Besides, it went against God’s character.
    “Please remember I’ll take care of your room after breakfast.”
    Zack swallowed hard. “The twins refused to go to sleep last night for fear of this . . . problem. So I took a few precautions for the mattress.”
    She smiled again. “I appreciate that. What are the children’s names?”
    “Curly and Charlie. Curly is the boy, and Charlie’s the girl.” Now he sounded stupid. “Their names are Carlin and Caitlain, but they like the nicknames.”
    “I do, too. They are adorable children. All those curls and freckles.”
    “Yeah, they are special. I hope to find a house for us soon.”
    “Little ones need room to run and play.”
    “And they can be a bundle of energy. I never dreamed adoption would be so difficult.”
    Simeon cleared his throat. “Miss Chloe, your grits are going to boil over if you don’t watch ’em.”
    She blushed and hurried to the stove. Her waist-length black hair clung to her back, tied with a narrow strip of leather.
    “Thanks for the water and cloth.”
    “You’re welcome.” She pulled the pan of grits from the stove and glanced up at him.