Whirlwind Baby
Whirlwind Baby
Debra Cowan
Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesIn fleeing her past, she found a future…Jake Ross’s life changes in a day when he finds a baby on his doorstep! Then he’s thrown into a spin by the quiet beauty he hires to look after his unexpected delivery.On the wild Texas frontier, everyone has something to hide – and Emma York is no exception. Jake can see that she has secrets, but the sexy rancher’s sure he can take care of her…if he can only find out what she needs protection from!
Praise for Debra Cowan
‘Cowan’s stories have the charm, tenderness and
sensuality that captivate and enchant.’
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
‘WHIRLWIND GROOM is a book not to be missed.’
—Romance Junkies
‘The third Whirlwind western romance is a fabulous historical…Debra Cowan provides a delightful Texas late-nineteenth-century romance.’ —The Best Reviews
‘Cowan takes the qualities of an Americana western,
adds the grit of a chase, and writes a tale that also has
deep family ties, pulsing sexual tension and the harsh
reality of the West. This is a solid western with an
added poignancy that truly tugs at the heart.’
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
‘WHIRLWIND BRIDE is an utterly delightful kick-off
for what promises to be a great mini-series.’
—Reader To Reader
She’d been so careful. He couldn’t have found them yet. Please, not yet.
“What do you think they wanted?” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake still at the outside door, his gaze riveted on her. Her hair. Could he tell that this nut-brown wasn’t her natural colour? That it was a dye made from walnut leaves and husks?
It hit her then that her hair was down, plaited into a braid that lay over her shoulder and against her dress. That all she had on was her nightrail and wrapper. And that all he had on were…denims.
There was a fluttery sensation in her stomach that she didn’t understand. She forced herself to look away from his chest, but she could feel his gaze traveling slowly down her body…
Like many writers, Debra Cowan made up stories in her head as a child. Her BA in English was obtained with the intention of following family tradition and becoming a schoolteacher, but after she wrote her first novel there was no looking back. An avid history buff, Debra writes both historical and contemporary romances. Born in the foothills of the Kiamichi Mountains, Debra still lives in her native Oklahoma with her husband. Debra invites her readers to contact her at PO Box 30123, Coffee Creek Station, Edmond, OK, USA, 73003-0003, or visit her website at: http://www.debracowan.net
WHIRLWIND BABY
Debra Cowan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my aunt, Sue Warren Green
Chapter One
West Texas, 1885
Jake Ross would rather eat barbed wire than have anything to do with a kid, but thanks to the supposed “dying woman” who’d left a baby at his door three days ago, he was interviewing applicants for a baby nurse and housekeeper.
On this hot August afternoon, everyone except his cousin, Georgia, had taken off faster than a six-legged jackrabbit. She and Jake were in the large front room of the ranch house. Georgia sat in one of the wide leather chairs at the end of the deer-hide sofa as Jake spoke to a tall woman with a British accent. Miz Alma Halvorson was the first person to respond to the ads that he and his uncle had posted in Whirlwind after determining no one there could or would take the infant.
Jake let Georgia keep an eye on the little girl sleeping on the bearskin rug in front of the rock fireplace while he asked questions. Which was a chore because he could barely think past the hammering in his head. He’d spent Saturday afternoon in a bottle, just as he did every other Saturday and he was still feelin’ the misery a day and a half later. The pounding in his head only throbbed harder every time he looked at that kid.
After church yesterday, he had asked around the small nearby town of Whirlwind about a family for Molly. Riley and Susannah Holt couldn’t take her because they’d just had another baby. Riley’s cousin, Jericho Blue, and his wife, Catherine, couldn’t take in the little girl because they’d just learned they were expecting. And Jake hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask Davis Lee and Josie Holt. They had just lost a baby and asking them to take Molly so soon after hadn’t seemed right.
After speaking to several other families, he’d driven out to Fort Greer and spoken to Dr. Butler about possibilities. No luck there, either. He’d wired two doctors in Abilene and the marshal about families who might take the child, but no one could help right now. Nor had any of the doctors treated a dying woman who’d been of the age to have an infant.
Jake needed to find some help today. Because, if he didn’t, he’d be stuck taking care of it and he just wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Of course, with only one good arm, Georgia couldn’t, either. His uncle and brother might not mind caring for the child, but they did have a ranch to run.
“Whose baby is that?” the persimmon-faced candidate asked.
“I don’t know.” Jake looked down at the blond-haired infant, his heart squeezing. After fussing and crying most of the last three nights and on the trip into town yesterday, she had finally fallen asleep on the ride home. “I thought I told you I found her at the door last Friday night.”
“No, I meant—” She cleared her throat as her gaze skipped away from his. “Does she belong to you? Is she your illegitimate—”
“No, she isn’t,” Jake said sharply, “and what difference does it make if she is?”
She was an innocent child. Jake might not want her, but he didn’t think she deserved to be thrown away. No kid should be left at someone’s door like last week’s laundry.
He still couldn’t believe someone could actually abandon a child. As if the baby picked up on his dark thoughts, she began to cry.
Jake gritted his teeth and walked over to pick her up, handling her just as awkwardly as he had since she’d arrived. She’d been left in one of their wash tubs along with a blanket, some flannels for changing her, a nightdress and two day dresses. A paper had been pinned to the gown she’d worn, with a letter written on the front and feeding instructions on the back.
After reading the thing at least twenty times, Jake didn’t have to pull the paper out of his trouser pocket and look at it to recall the words.
I am a poor friendless woman dying in a strange town. I have no close family or husband and I noticed your kindness to a lost little boy in town. The only way I can bear to part from this life is to leave my Molly with you, not at a baby asylum or foundling hospital. You seem the kind of man who would not let a child starve or be sold. She will be a year old on October 7. I leave her in your care and pray God will forgive me.
The mother had chosen him. Who the hell was she? Had he seen her and not noticed? Her words made him feel responsible for the baby, responsible for yet another person, and Jake didn’t like it.
But he knew how it felt to be abandoned and he wouldn’t do that to anyone. He’d advertised for the right family, but in the meantime, the kid was stuck here. The baby’s crying didn’t stop even though he held her. The throb in his head worked down his neck. He had to find a baby nurse and double fast.
Miz Halvorson’s gray hair was pulled into a bun so tight it made her scarecrow-thin features look even more stern. She stared haughtily at him as he tried to find a position for the baby that wasn’t awkward.
“She’ll never learn to stop that if you give in to her.”
From the corner of his eye, Jake saw Georgia look up from her chair with a frown. His gaze leveled on the older woman. “Are you saying we should let her cry?”
“Unless you teach her how to behave, she’ll never learn to settle down,” the woman said in a tone that clearly intimated he was witless. “She’ll cry every time she wants something.”
Letting her cry sounded mean to Jake. From the tight line of his cousin’s lips, he could tell she felt the same.
“Well, she can’t talk!” Jake carefully settled the kid into Georgia’s good arm, understanding her look that said she didn’t like Miz Halvorson any better than he did. “How else is she supposed to tell anybody what she wants?”
The woman started to say something, only to be interupted by a knock on the door. Jake hoped it was another applicant. There had to be someone better than Miz Halvorson.
Baby Molly cried louder and Georgia patted her back with her unwithered hand, just as she had been doing when the baby had finally given out last night from sheer exhaustion. But this time it wasn’t working. The knock came again and Jake started across the planked pine floor toward the heavy front door. “Thanks for coming out, Miz Halvorson. We’ll let you know if we have any further questions.”
She huffed, following him.
“Goodbye, ma’am.” He opened the door and got his first pleasant surprise in more than two days.
Framed in the soft amber light of the setting sun was a young woman. Her brown hair was up and she wore spectacles. She was petite and a trifle skinny, but she had skin like cream. Lady, please open that pretty mouth and tell me you’ve come about the ad. Unless she was lost, she had to be here for that. He hadn’t had a woman at the Circle R since Delia had passed. Neither had his uncle or brother or the ranch hands.
“I’ve come about the ad—” She broke off, looking stricken as her solemn gaze landed on the British woman. “Have you already filled the position?”
“Not yet,” Jake said quickly.
Miz Halvorson swept past him and out the door, then stopped to say in a low voice to the new arrival, “They don’t know anything about raising children and don’t believe in discipline.”
Holding on to the porch railing, she stepped onto the ground and stomped to her buggy, which sat between the house and barn. The younger woman turned to Jake with uncertainty on her face.
He noted slender curves beneath a blue-gingham bodice and bustled skirt. “I’m Jake Ross. Come in, Miz…”
“York. Emma York.” She cast one last look over her shoulder at the departing Miz Halvorson, then stepped inside, watching carefully as he shut the door.
As she followed him to the center of the room, her gaze went to the baby. Molly still fussed and Georgia bounced her gently on her shoulder. Jake gestured to the woman with dark, silver-threaded hair. “This is my cousin, Georgia Ross.”
Georgia rose and nodded, since she was unable to extend her hand. “Hello.”
Jake gestured to the deer-hide sofa, special made to accommodate any of the Ross men stretched out full-length. “Please have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand, if—if that’s all right,” she said softly, as if afraid he might take exception.
“Of course.” He backed up against the sofa and eased down. She was a pretty thing, with more of a fullness to her breasts than he’d originally thought. And, behind those spectacles, he could tell she had green eyes. Pretty green eyes.
Though, it would suit him just fine if Emma York were ugly. He hadn’t noticed much about a woman’s looks since his wife had died five years ago.
From her spot in front of the fireplace, Georgia asked, “What’s your feeling about babies crying?”
“Ma’am?” Miz York glanced from the woman to Jake, looking confused.
“Before you got here,” he said, “Miz Halvorson was giving us her views on what to do when a baby cries. What would you do?”
Emma York’s fingers twined in the folds of her skirt. “I’d check to see if something was wrong, if she was hungry or needed to be changed.”
The baby twisted and squirmed in Georgia’s arms, and she spoke in a low voice, trying to calm the child.
“And you’d pick her up?” Georgia prompted.
“I imagine so.” She searched Jake’s face as if trying to guess the answer he wanted.
Still wiggling, the baby cried out. “I guess since you found your way here, you know this is the Circle R,” Jake said. “Someone left this baby at our door last Friday night and, until I find a place for her to go, I need a nurse. Right up front I should tell you we also need a housekeeper, someone who’ll cook and clean. Ours was gone Saturday when we returned from Abilene.”
As if Jake’s biweekly visit to his brother-in-law weren’t hellish enough, he’d gotten home to find his housekeeper had taken off and left this baby with Georgia.
“I can do both,” Miz York said with quiet determination.
“Are you sure?” Jake thought she barely looked sturdy enough to fend for herself, much less another person. And cook for all of them.
Georgia gently bounced Molly on one arm. “I would do more, but as you can see, my left arm is crippled.”
“I’m sure I can do the job.” Understanding and compassion darkened her eyes before her anxious gaze settled on the child and softened. “If I may ask, why did your housekeeper leave?”
“She ran off and got married. I don’t think the baby had anything to do with her decision.” Jake tried to keep the tightness out of his voice. It wasn’t Miz York’s fault that Louisa had chosen to leave at the worst possible time. “I’ve advertised about getting a family for Molly. I don’t want to send her to Buckner Orphans Home in Dallas or anyplace like that.”
The baby’s face screwed up and turned red; she let out a scream and Jake moved away, wishing she’d be quiet.
Miz York frowned. “You’re planning to give her away again?”
Jake’s eyes narrowed at the words. Said that way, they sounded hard and ugly. He grunted, seeing no reason to answer to a woman who might soon be in his employ.
She seemed to realize her place and changed the subject. “What kind of food do you all like?”
“Biscuits, gravy, ham. Sweets.” So far, the lady didn’t seem put off. He spoke loudly enough to be heard above the baby’s cries. “Nothing too fancy, but something that sticks with you.”
“So you’d want me to cook and clean? Laundry, too?”
That wasn’t all he’d like. Surprise shot through him at the fleeting thought. He hadn’t wanted to do anything like that with a real lady, in years. Women didn’t distract him, even when he’d been a long time without one. There hadn’t been a woman since his wife, who had insinuated herself into his thoughts.
He jerked a thumb toward the squalling baby in his cousin’s arms. “Yes, and take care of her. We’ll give you room and board. You’d need to live at the ranch. Will that be a problem?”
She twined her fingers nervously and, for the first time, he saw the dull gold band on her left hand. He was stunned to feel a prick of disappointment. Why did he care? He wasn’t getting involved with her. Or any other woman, for that matter. “I guess you’ll want to talk to your husband about that, first.”
“No,” she said quickly, glancing at the distressed baby. “I mean, it won’t be necessary. He isn’t with me.”
Jake didn’t like the instant relief that jabbed at him. He also didn’t examine it. The baby lurched toward him and he took her reluctantly. Her sobs grew louder as she twisted to look at Miz York. Jake juggled the infant from one shoulder to the other in an attempt to shush her.
“But your husband will be here?” Jake asked.
“I’m…I’m a widow.” She pulled her gaze from Molly, raising her voice to be heard over the child. “That’s why I need the work.”
He wanted to ask how her husband had died and how long she’d been alone, but those things had nothing to do with whether or not she could do this job. “Where you from?”
Her knuckles showed white as she gripped her purse strings tighter. “Up north.”
That could mean anywhere. “Up north?”
“Illinois.”
“And you wouldn’t have a problem living at the ranch?”
She glanced at the child as she pushed the spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “No.”
The baby jabbered something he couldn’t understand, trying to lunge out of his arms. “Whoa, there. You’re a slippery one.”
The woman stepped around the sofa and closed the distance between her and him, moving so quietly, with such still grace that the air didn’t seem to stir. Even her skirts didn’t make a sound against the floor. She held out her arms. “May I try?”
Jake didn’t need any urging. He did little more than lean toward the woman and Molly went willingly, looping her chubby arms around the lady’s neck and burying her face there. That kid hadn’t taken to anyone in his family like that. After a couple of gulping sobs, she drew in a deep shuddering breath then hiccuped. The sudden silence was startling.
“What the— How did you do that?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” She hugged the baby close, speaking to her in a low voice and looking…relieved? “What’s her name?”
“Molly.” Jake glanced over his shoulder at Georgia, who nodded. Yes. “Name your price.”
“Wh-What?”
He stepped forward. “You’re hired, Miz York.”
“But…you don’t even know if I can cook.” As the baby grabbed for her spectacles, the woman shifted the little girl to her other hip.
“I guess we don’t. So, can you cook?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re interested in the job? Caring for the kid, the house and cooking in exchange for room and board and a decent wage.” He named an amount he thought was fair.Judging by the flash of surprise in her eyes, so did she.
“That’s very generous.”
“I would ask if you have experience, but it’s plain that you do.”
She looked at him then at his cousin. “Are you just going to take my word that I can cook?”
“Yes,” Jake said, thinking how soft her hair looked. “You don’t strike me as someone who would misrepresent herself. Besides, I’m sure we’ll like your grub.”
Georgia murmured agreement. “And it will be nice to have another woman around.”
Miz York rubbed the baby’s back and he noted that her fingernails were short and ragged. “How many will I be cooking for?”
“Sometimes a couple of the hands might eat here at the house, but usually it’s just Georgia, my uncle Ike, my brother Bram and myself.”
After a moment, she nodded. “All right.”
He realized she hadn’t smiled once since she’d arrived. And, still, she was more pleasant than Miz Halvorson. “We need you to start pretty quick.”
“Now?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, good.” The relief he felt was mixed with an unidentifiable emotion. But the baby liked her and so did Georgia, whose spells of tiredness were getting more frequent. “Did you bring your luggage?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t have much.”
“I’ll fetch your things and Georgia can show you to your room.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze moved to his cousin.
“We’re glad to have you.” Georgia motioned for her to follow as she crossed the big room toward the dining area.
As Jake moved toward the front door, Emma asked, “Where will the baby sleep? With me?”
He stopped, frowning. “We hadn’t much considered that, but, if it’s okay with you, that would probably be best.”
“Oh, yes.” The tightness in her voice eased for the first time since her arrival. “That would be fine.”
Jake nodded, struck by the solemn look on her face. He watched her follow Georgia past one long side of the heavy dining table and stop in the doorway on the right.
“This is Louisa’s old room,” Georgia said. “You’ll be directly across from the kitchen.”
Miz York glanced over her shoulder, looking past the table and chairs to the room beyond.
“We sleep upstairs,” his cousin said. “You’ll want to take a look in the larder to see what you need.”
“Shall I cook tonight?”
“We’d be obliged.”
She nodded, stepping inside the room.
Jake noticed again how carefully she moved. Almost as if she could make herself become part of her surroundings.
That baby was quiet now and still stuck to the brunette like a cocklebur, her little eyes closing occasionally.
Jake’s gaze traveled slowly over the nurse, from her hair down the delicate line of her spine and gentle flare of her hips.
Impatient with himself, he turned for the door. He didn’t want to notice Emma York. All he wanted was to hire someone to care for the baby and he had.
Emma could barely keep from sinking to the floor in relief. She’d done it. She’d gotten the job.
The slightly plump older woman stepped aside so Emma could go into her new room.
“Take a minute to settle in and let us know if we can get you anything.” Her brown eyes were kind. “When you’re ready, you can have a look at the kitchen.”
“All right.”
“Would you like me to take the baby while you unpack?”
Emma could tell the other woman was tired and that had to affect the strength in her good arm. “That’s all right. We’ll need to start getting used to each other.”
Muted red light filtered into the room as the sun sank lower in the sky. This room had two glass-paned windows, one looking north and the other looking west. A large wardrobe covered the length of the west wall from the window to the corner. A wash stand with a cream pitcher and bowl sat on the opposite wall, a rocking chair between it and the north window. A blue, yellow and white quilt covered the bed that looked almost as fluffy as the one Emma had back home.
Jake Ross appeared in the doorway, holding her valise and small satchel, which he set just inside the door. “Is this all you have?”
She nodded.
“I’ll take care of your horse.”
“Thank you.” If either he or his cousin thought it odd that Emma had ridden rather than driven a buggy, they didn’t let on.
During the interview, she’d been too anxious to notice much more than Mr. Ross’s size, but it hit her now that he was handsome. He was the size of a mountain with pure black hair and eyes that were just as dark.
He pulled a piece of paper out of his trouser pocket. “Here’s the note that came with the baby. It says how old she is and what she can eat. And some things about her ma.”
“There were some flannels for changing her and a couple of dresses,” Georgia added.
Mr. Ross muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse. Did he not like the baby or was his dislike over the fact that someone had abandoned the child?
The little girl looked well and fit. Still balancing Molly on her left hip, Emma took the note with an unsteady hand and glanced at it.
Jake gestured toward the heavy bureau with two deep drawers along the bottom and a pair of doors that closed to conceal hanging clothes and shoes. “If you want, we can make one of those bottom drawers into a bed until the kid’s arrives. One of them would be plenty big enough for her.”
“You ordered her a bed?”
At the surprise in her voice, his gaze shot to hers. “Yes, in town today.”
The town he referred to was Whirlwind, a small community several miles west of Abilene where the stage had brought her. “She needs a place to sleep, after all.”
“Yes,” she murmured. How sweet.
“It was Georgia’s idea.”
Oh. “The drawer will do just fine. I can make a little pallet in there.”
“Looks like you’re set, then,” he said brusquely. He walked away and Georgia followed, smiling at Emma as she left.
Still holding the child, Emma shut the door then backed up against it, closing her eyes.
The baby gurgled, tugging on Emma’s lower lip. She opened her eyes and smiled. After shaking out the little girl’s blanket, she spread it on the floor and sat Molly there so she could watch Emma unpack.
The weight of the derringer in her skirt pocket provided a small sense of security. For the first time in the two weeks since she’d fled Kansas, Emma thought she might be able to escape the hell of home.
With the uncertainty of getting the job—this job—behind her, she suddenly felt light-headed. Clutching the night rail she’d just pulled from her valise, she sank down on the edge of the bed, her legs shaking.
Intending to be the only applicant, she’d gathered up every flyer Jake Ross and another man had posted in Whirlwind. Or thought she had. Finding that other woman here had nearly caused her to faint. If Miss Halvorson had gotten this job, Emma’s plan would’ve been ruined.
You don’t strike me as someone who would misrepresent herself.
Jake Ross’s words echoed in her head.
Misrepresent herself? Emma had flat-out lied. She wasn’t a widow. She’d never been married. Her last name wasn’t York; it was Douglas. And she wasn’t a baby nurse.
She was Molly’s half sister and she was the one who had left the baby at the rancher’s door.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Emma stood just inside the kitchen door and tried not to bite her nails. It was a bad habit she had thought broken long ago, but she’d had to stop herself more than once last night, too. And during the days before she’d been hired and fretted about what Jake Ross would do with Molly; about what she herself had done with the baby.
The Ross family sat at the large dining table, Jake on the end closest to her, his brother opposite him. His uncle sat between them with his back to her and Georgia sat across the table. Behind Jake, the pink of early morning light filtered through the large glass-paned window that looked into the dining room and front room to the staircase beyond.
The men wolfed down the eggs, biscuits and ham Emma had set out so she took that to mean they liked the food all right. But they ate breakfast as fast as they had eaten supper. The meal could’ve been boots and gravy, and she doubted they would’ve noticed.
Last night she had dreamed that Jake Ross had changed his mind about hiring her. That he’d found out nearly everything she’d told him was a lie.
Just because he acted as if things were fine this morning, she’d lived long enough with her stepfather to know that a man’s temper was as unpredictable as a twister and could come up just as fast.
So she watched her new employer carefully, looking for a sign, a change in his temperament that so far seemed quiet and even. If she had to leave in order to protect Molly, she would. While it would be inconvenient, it wouldn’t pain her. Certainly not like what had happened two weeks ago when she had found their mother dead. Murdered.
Emma had no proof, had witnessed nothing, but she knew it was murder. And she knew who’d done it. Her stepfather had abused her mother since their marriage two years ago, especially when Nola had put herself between his fists and Emma. When Nola became pregnant with Molly, she knew she had to get the baby and Emma away from Orson. Despite endless threats from Orson to use any means necessary to stop his wife from leaving him, Emma’s mother had prepared, anyway.
After Molly turned six months old, Emma and her mother began to carefully make plans to leave Topeka and Emma’s stepfather. A month ago, he found a stash of money and assumed, rightly, that his wife intended to use it for her and her daughters’ escape.
Orson Douglas didn’t take any action at the time. Probably due to the risk that, just before an election, he might have to answer questions about what had happened to his wife and eight-month-old baby. Most people admired the politician, looked up to him. But not his stepdaughter. Senator Orson Douglas scared Emma witless.
And one afternoon two weeks later, she returned from the seamstress in Topeka and found her mother dead. Mama lay in her bed with Orson standing over her crying that it must have happened because Nola had taken too much of the laudanum she used for relief from a back injury due to a recent fall. A fall caused by her husband.
Horrified and frightened, Emma’d managed to give away nothing, but she knew Orson Douglas had killed his wife. And she knew what Nola would want her to do. Two days later, as people filled their grand house after the funeral, Emma had used the excuse of putting her half sister down for a nap, then had slipped out with the child.
Jake Ross turned his head then, his black gaze locking on her. She straightened, her fingers curling in the hem of the worn white apron she’d found.
His uncle Ike, as tall as Jake and lanky, picked up his cup of coffee as he looked over his shoulder. “We sure lucked out when Jake found you, Miz York.”
She doubted he would think so if he knew she’d found them. After reaching Abilene by train, she had seen Jake Ross there. Emma would’ve noticed him, anyway, because of his size and rugged good looks, but what had her deciding he was right for Molly was the patience and kindness he’d shown a lost little boy. No one else had paid a whit of attention to the child except to order him out of the way, but Jake had helped him find his mother.
Emma had included that in the note, hoping the mention of it would make the rancher less inclined to send Molly somewhere else. “So everything’s to your liking?”
“Everything’s wonderful.” Ike nodded.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bram declared.
“Especially the coffee.” Georgia smiled.
The older woman had told Emma that Bram and Jake had been raised by their uncle. Though both were dark haired and strapping, Bram’s eyes were blue rather than black like Jake’s.
Jake glanced over, making her stomach flutter the way it had when she’d first seen him last evening.
“Yeah, the coffee’s real good,” he said gruffly.
Bram took another biscuit, split it and slathered butter on it. “These biscuits are better than Pearl’s.”
At her frown, Jake explained, “She’s a lady in Whirlwind who owns the Pearl Restaurant.”
The relief that moved through Emma was so strong it made her chest ache. Thank goodness they liked the food.
The elder Ross squinted at her. “Did you sleep all right?”
“Yes, very well.”
“And the baby?” Georgia asked. “Did she keep you awake?”
“No. She slept, too.”
Her employer looked surprised, but said nothing.
“Is she up yet?” Bram asked.
“Yes.” She inclined her head toward the kitchen. “She’s in there.”
“She sure is quiet,” he said.
“She’s a good baby,” Emma said mildly.
“So she hasn’t scared you off yet?” Jake’s voice was flat.
“No, not at all.” The way everyone’s gazes went to him then immediately skipped away had her wondering again if he disliked the baby. “I was going to make flapjacks, but wasn’t sure how many.”
“None for me.” Bram grinned, reaching for the platter of biscuits and bacon. “I’ve got all the food I need right here.”
“What he’s got is plenty for everyone, Miz York,” Ike said dryly.
Jake said nothing.
She smiled. “All right, then.”
“Aren’t you going to join us?” Georgia patted the empty place next to her.
The invitation took Emma by surprise. If circumstances had been different, she would’ve liked getting to know them, making friends, but leaving was going to be hard enough when the time came. She should do her job and keep to herself. “Thank you, but I’ve eaten.”
“I’ll share the biscuits with you,” Bram cajoled with a charming grin that revealed a deep set of dimples.
Aware of the sharp look Jake threw him, she turned for the kitchen. Mr. Ross obviously didn’t like his family being friendly with the help, which was fine with Emma. “If you’re sure you don’t want the flapjacks, I’ll start cleaning the dishes and I’ll bring more coffee.”
“But—” Bram began.
She fetched the coffee then returned, using the skirt of her apron to hold the hot handle. After pouring a cup for the elder Ross, she moved to Jake.
He passed her his cup and when she returned it to him, their fingers brushed. She pulled away quickly.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
Her gaze caught on his and she felt heat creep into her cheeks. She stepped behind Ike to go to Bram, wishing she weren’t so aware of the way Jake’s pale gray shirt molded shoulders that were as wide as the door. Of his dark hair and black eyes. He was handsome in a rugged, rough way that made a woman think he could protect her. Well, Emma knew better than to trust such sentiments.
As she moved around the table to Georgia, he didn’t look at her. And yet she felt his attention on her. Weighing, considering. Her guard immediately went up. She wished she could disappear.
As she stepped into the kitchen, she surreptitiously cast one more glance over her shoulder and her gaze crashed into his.
Their new housekeeper acted nervous, Jake thought. Because of him? He didn’t mean to make her nervous, but, well, he couldn’t stop looking at her.
Bram looked at Jake. “She acted worried that we wouldn’t like her cooking.”
“I think she was.”
“She’s every bit as good a cook as Louisa. Don’t scare her off.”
Jake glared at his brother and shoved a biscuit in his mouth. Something about Emma York compelled his attention and it wasn’t that she was taking care of that kid. He’d woken several times last night thinking about her. Not hot, sweaty-type thoughts, but curious, bothered-type thoughts.
He’d decided that was on account of all the alcohol working its way out of his system. He drank to forget and she was a much more pleasant image to contemplate than the reason he’d been drinking. Quentin. Thoughts of his brother-in-law—former brother-in-law—made Jake angry and uncomfortable and chute crazy. The quicker he finished breakfast, the sooner he could get some space.
Under the table, something grabbed the left leg of his jeans, startling him out of his thoughts. He registered a tiny hand just in time to stop himself from shoving his chair back. Knowing what he would find and knowing it was inevitable that he would sometimes have to be around her, he bent and looked under the table.
The baby stared back at him with big gray-green eyes. She grinned, revealing two teeth. Clutching his knee, she pulled herself to her feet.
Dammit.
“What is it? The baby?” Bram ducked his head to get a look.
Jake wanted out of this chair right now, but, if he rose, the baby would fall. She took a lurching step forward into the vee between his legs and latched on to him to keep her balance. One chubby little hand hit his thigh, the other one his man parts.
He didn’t want to hold her, but he didn’t want her looking at him with those big eyes, either. Easing his chair back, he sent a pleading look to his brother, who was occupied with scraping his plate clean.
Jake picked her up, holding her stiffly out in front of him. He had every intention of handing her off to Georgia or his uncle when Molly grabbed his face between her hands and jabbered something. Her sweet baby scent drifted around him, pricking at memories he kept ruthlessly tucked away.
Sheer reflex had him surging to his feet and thrusting her toward Ike. Before the older man could take her, Miz York eased the baby out of his hold.
“I’m sorry.” She sent Jake an apologetic look. “I didn’t know she’d gotten away from me.”
Heat searing his nerves, he stepped behind his chair, putting some distance between them. The knowing look in his uncle’s eyes had him dragging a hand across his nape.
Puzzlement slid across the nurse’s fine-boned features.
“We don’t know much about babies—” Bram stood, drawing her attention “—but we like ’em.”
Her uncertain gaze darted to Jake then fixed on his brother. “I’ll try to keep her out of your way.”
“She’s not in our way,” Ike said jovially as he rose from his chair. “We like having her around.”
Jake caught the flash of skepticism on Emma York’s face and knew he should try to reassure her, but he couldn’t do it. Her light soap scent joined with the baby’s and he felt as if his chest were being crushed.
“We didn’t hire you so you’d keep her away from us,” Ike said. “We just need some help taking care of her.”
Jake wanted to say he had definitely hired Miz York to keep the baby away from him. That he was the one who made the final decisions around here, but he wasn’t. And he didn’t want to be responsible for that baby. Fine with him if Uncle Ike wanted to raise the orphan the same way he’d raised his nephews. That didn’t mean Jake had to.
“It’s just that some of us are better with little ones than others of us are,” Bram explained.
Miz York nodded, her face pale as she cuddled the baby.
“That was an excellent breakfast, Miz York.” Georgia folded her napkin and set it beside her plate.
“Yes. If we don’t watch it,” her father said, “you’ll have us all fatter than peach-orchard boars in no time.”
Her lips curved in the closest thing to a real smile that Jake had seen since she’d arrived. “Thank you.”
The way her face lit up put a strange tightness in Jake’s chest. But, when her gaze shifted to him, her smile faded and a wariness moved into her eyes. She turned and walked into the kitchen.
Dammit. Compelled to make an effort at reassuring her, he asked, “Is there anything we can do for you before we leave? Anything you need?”
Her voice drifted from the kitchen. “I need to do the laundry. If you could just show me the washtub—”
“We’ll haul the water for you,” Bram volunteered.
“And start the fire,” Jake added.
Coming back to the doorway with the baby on her hip, she looked at Bram, not Jake. “Thank you, but—”
“I’ll get the basket Louisa used to carry the laundry.” His brother went into a small alcove between the housekeeper’s room and the outside wall, returning with a large round basket. After setting it in Jake’s chair, he moved toward the door. “That was a fine meal, Miz York.”
“I’ll start the fire on my way out,” Jake said.
“That’s not necessary,” she said stiffly. “You did hire me to do the job, after all.”
He looked at her. Did they all make her uncomfortable or was it just him? “It won’t take a minute for me to get it burning.”
“I can do it.”
“We can gather up our clothes for you,” Bram insisted.
“I’m supposed to be here to help you—” she looked ill at ease “—not the other way around.”
“All right.” Bram grinned. “You can gather the clothes, but we’ll haul the tubs and the water.”
“And rig up the clothesline,” Ike added.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, though she acted more uneasy than pleased about it.
Bram went outside and Jake started to follow. Now that he was getting some space from her, he could breathe just fine. “We’ll be riding in the west pasture today. If you need anything, for any reason, there’s a gun behind the front door. And there’s a bell hanging right outside the kitchen door and the barn. We can hear both for quite a ways.”
“Do you expect trouble?” Her eyes went wide with worry.
“No, not at all. But we’re not expecting visitors, either.” He’d mentioned the weapon and the bell to reassure her, but it obviously hadn’t. “I wanted you to know about the gun for protection and how to signal us if you needed to.”
“All right, thank you.” She studied him as if she were trying to determine how he was put together.
“Is there anything particular you’d like for supper?” she asked tentatively.
“Whatever you fix will be fine.” He needed to get outside, now. “If we get held up, don’t wait on us. You and Georgia eat while it’s hot.”
She nodded as Georgia came around the table. Emma and his cousin followed him to the door, and Jake could feel the nurse’s anxious gaze locked on him.
Just looking at her pale face made his chest tight. That baby and Emma York made him feel responsible for their welfare. The minute he’d seen the brunette, something inside him had gone still. He didn’t know why. He didn’t care to know.
He was sick to death of feeling responsible for everyone, dead and alive. He’d done the right thing by not dumping that baby on someone else, done the right thing by hiring Emma York. He didn’t need to do anything else, but, for some reason, right didn’t seem like enough this time.
Jake Ross had buzzed in Emma’s thoughts all day like a pesky insect. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the hard look on his face when he’d held Molly that morning at breakfast or because of the quiet way he had studied Emma. As if he knew more than she’d told him. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen him again today. He and the two other men hadn’t returned until late tonight, well after supper and after Emma had gone to bed.
Now it was past midnight and she stood in the kitchen over the stove. Soft amber light from the lone kerosene lamp behind her pooled on the floor. Molly had been fussy since supper and nothing Emma did had helped. She had finally decided the little girl’s stomach hurt and come to the kitchen to make the onion tea that her mother had sworn was the best remedy for upset tummies or a mixed-up sleeping schedule.
As she added another pinch of finely chopped onion to the heating water, Emma couldn’t help recalling the look on Jake Ross’s face this morning when he’d picked up her sister. It hadn’t been disgust or blatant dislike, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it had been. Did he dislike the baby? Everyone in his family had given him odd looks, but she hadn’t been able to decipher those, either.
Had she made a mistake by choosing him, by coming here? The rest of his family seemed to like the little girl just fine, but Emma wouldn’t leave her sister in a household where she wasn’t welcome by everyone. Still, Emma had no money to take her sister and go farther west. Until she did, she would have to stay here and try to help the Ross family become attached to Molly.
When the onion-and-water mixture began to boil, Emma turned to take a folded cloth from the long counter to her right. And gasped. Jake Ross stood in the doorway, wrapped in shadows. In the shift of gray light, she could see he was shirtless. His denims were unbuttoned and he held a gun. How long had he been standing there?
“Shh.” He put a finger to his lips, lamplight slanting across the strong angle of his jaw. “I heard something outside.”
She swallowed hard, nodding to let him know she’d keep quiet.
“I’m going to check. Don’t go anywhere.”
She couldn’t have moved, anyway. Her legs felt like water. He walked past her and silently opened the door on the opposite wall that led outside.
Emma’s heart thundered. He’d startled her, but that wasn’t why her pulse spiked. Gracious, the man was…impressive. His shoulders and chest were hard, solid muscle, only a shade lighter than his face and arms, making it obvious that he worked outside frequently without a shirt. Dark hair on his chest narrowed to a thin line below his navel.
As he went out the door, Emma stared. She couldn’t help it. She’d never seen a man’s bare back. Or bare chest. Or bare anything. One time, she’d seen her stepfather in shirtsleeves, but she’d never laid eyes on a half-naked man.
A funny feeling clenched her stomach. He looked so huge. Intimidating.
She wasn’t sure how long she waited. Realizing she was without her spectacles, Emma slipped them from the pocket of her wrapper and slid them on. Very carefully so as not to make any noise, she reached again for the cloth and lifted the boiling pot from the stove, setting it on the long counter.
After several minutes, the kitchen door opened and Jake moved back inside. He shook his head as he quietly closed the door. “Someone’s been out there, but they’re long gone. Found footprints, but no other sign.”
Though she cautioned herself not to jump to conclusions, Emma’s shoulders tensed up. There was no reason to think that whoever had been out there had been looking for her, but she couldn’t help it. There was no doubt her stepfather would’ve already assigned one of his men, probably Sharpton, to start searching for her and Molly. Orson wouldn’t risk hiring a reputable detective agency like the Pinkertons because he’d be afraid Emma would tell the lawmen about his violent behavior. And she would, if she had the chance. No, Orson had to be discreet and that meant sending one of his own men to find her and the baby.
She’d been so careful. He couldn’t have found them yet. Please, not yet.
“What do you think they wanted?” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake still at the outside door, his gaze riveted on her. Her hair. Could he tell that this nut-brown wasn’t her natural color? That it was a dye made from walnut leaves and husks?
It hit her then that her hair was down, plaited into a braid that lay over her shoulder and against her breast. That all she had on was her night rail and wrapper. That all he had on were…denims. His trousers were unbuttoned enough that she could tell the skin below his waistband was lighter than his chest, like the color of an acorn.
The night pulsed around them and Emma realized she was staring, too. She wrapped her arms around her waist. A muscle clenched in Jake’s jaw and he jerkily barred the door then moved past her, heading toward the dining room. The scent of man and soap and the outdoors teased her.
“There’s no telling what they wanted.” He turned in the doorway. “All the livestock we put up in the barn were there and I didn’t hear any cattle bawling like they would be if someone had stirred them up.”
She heard his words, tried to pay attention to what he said. But what she was thinking was what beautiful eyes he had and how, in the softer light, his mouth didn’t seem harsh at all.
“Could’ve just been someone passing through, but I doubt it,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take another look in the morning when it’s light out.”
She nodded, fighting the urge to bite her nails. There was a fluttery sensation in her stomach that she didn’t understand. All because of him? She forced herself to look away from his chest, but she could feel his gaze traveling slowly down her body from her breasts to her bare toes peeking out from under her nightdress.
He cleared his throat. “What are you doing up? Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes. I’m making onion tea.” She eagerly latched on to the question. “The baby’s been fussy and I think she has a stomachache. My mother used to make onion tea for that.”
At the mention of her mother, unexpected tears burned Emma’s throat and she swallowed hard.
Something unreadable and raw flared in Jake’s dark eyes and she was swept with the sudden ridiculous urge to go to him.
He seemed to sense her upset or perhaps he could see it on her face. “You’re gonna give a baby tea made from an onion?”
The look of distaste on his face had her smiling. “I’ll add sugar. She’ll think it tastes good.”
“Will it really settle her stomach?”
She nodded. “Sometimes it’s also used to help babies with their sleeping schedule so they aren’t awake while everyone else is trying to sleep.”
“Sounds like you know your stuff.” He backed up a step. “No one’s out there so you don’t need to worry. But, if you need to use the privy in the middle of the night, you should take the rifle. It’s—”
“Behind the door, I know.” She smiled in an effort to reassure him, to get him to leave.
But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. “Yeah, behind the door,” he repeated in a raspy voice.
Something passed between them, something Emma had never felt for a man and it scared her. Hands shaking, she turned away and reached above the counter for a cup sitting on the shelf.
“Good night, then.”
“Good night.” She felt him leave, listened hard for the near-silent pad of his feet across the floor of the front room, then the slight creak of the stairs as he went up.
A breath shuddered out of her. She told herself she was shaking because someone had been outside. Someone who might’ve come for her, but Emma knew that wasn’t it at all.
It was because of Jake Ross. Oh, lands.
Stubbornly, she focused on adding a couple of teaspoons of sugar to the onion liquid. She was being fanciful. He’d startled her, first with his presence then by saying someone had been outside.
That was what it was. That was all it was. Still, she decided it would probably be wise to keep out of his way.
The next morning, Emma managed to stay clear of Jake Ross before and during breakfast, and finally he left with the other men for the day. On the back porch, Molly played with a doll Emma had fashioned from a piece of old linen. Emma gathered yesterday’s laundry from the clothesline a few feet away. It was strung between the porch and the henhouse. A roller wringer that squeezed water from clothes sat at the corner of the porch.
Georgia sat in a rocking chair, also keeping an eye on the baby as she shelled peas with one hand. Emma was amazed how much the other woman could do with just one hand and how well she did it. The climate was arid here, just like back in Kansas, although hotter. The breeze came too infrequently, but she wasn’t nearly as hot today as she had been yesterday while doing the wash.
Pushing her spectacles up for the tenth time, she gathered clothes, folding them and putting them into the basket Bram had fetched for her yesterday. Emma’s thoughts seemed stuck on Jake Ross. Just because she hadn’t spoken to him this morning didn’t mean she was unaware of him.
After seeing him half-dressed last night, Emma didn’t think she would ever be unaware of him. Just the memory of his hard, bare chest was enough to make her stomach dip. She hadn’t been able to look at him while serving breakfast and, thankfully, he hadn’t seemed inclined to look at her, although she felt a carefulness in his manner that made her think he remembered last night, too.
The look he’d given her, almost reluctantly it seemed, had been heated and hungry. Her skin had gone tight. No man had ever affected her that way. Emma might not have much experience with men or flirting, but she knew what happened between men and women. Her mother had told her during those weeks her stepfather had pressed her to marry Albert Crocker.
Albert had tried to kiss her once and she had pulled away. He’d been angry enough to raise his hand to her, though he hadn’t hit her. She’d refused the railroad baron’s son, not because she feared sharing his bed, but because Albert seemed to be as cruel as her stepfather. And her refusal had earned the burn scars on her back, one of the few times her mother had been unable to shield her from Orson Douglas’s wrath.
Jake Ross was a big man, with big hands, like her stepfather. Maybe it was those things that made her nervous rather than some annoying awareness of him. Emma reached the end of the clothesline and pulled down the last sheet. After giving it a snap, she folded it.
As she bent down to place the linen on top of the other laundry, she got the sense she had missed something. She hadn’t been paying strict attention to her task so she wasn’t sure. She knelt and dug through the pile of clothes that would need to be ironed. She couldn’t find her corset. Even though she knew she’d taken everything from the clothesline, she looked over her shoulder.
It wasn’t there. She was positive she’d washed it and hung it out to dry because she didn’t have it on beneath her gray work dress. And it was the only one she’d brought. Four days of hard riding to Baxter Springs to catch the train through Indian Territory into Texas had required that she and Molly travel light.
Getting a funny feeling in her stomach, Emma looked through the basket again, but didn’t find it. She stood, walking the length of the clothesline. Maybe it had blown away? But, if so, why hadn’t anything else? There were several things lighter than her stays and they had all managed to remain on the line.
“Emma, I’m taking in these peas,” Georgia called as she rose from the rocking chair. “Would you like me to get you anything?”
“No, thank you.” She thought about asking Georgia if she’d taken the corset, but why on earth would the other woman take it? Why would anyone? Besides, she and the other woman were nowhere close in size.
Emma was the one who’d been out here with the wash, yesterday and today. She was the one who should know whether or not she had everything. Last night, her employer had heard a noise. Could it have been a thief? A thief who’d stolen a corset? That was ridiculous. Emma couldn’t even fathom it.
A quick glance showed that Molly was still playing happily on her blanket, so Emma turned and walked the length of the clothesline again. She went into the henhouse, thinking that perhaps the undergarment had fallen and one of the birds had taken it. To use for a nest maybe? But, aside from straw, feathers and the eye-watering smell of ammonia, she found nothing.
Growing more perplexed and a little irritated, she came out, latching the door behind her. Keeping the baby in sight, Emma searched the side of the house, under the porch, shaded her eyes to look out over the knee-high golden-green prairie grass. She saw nothing. She had to find it. It was the only one she had. She couldn’t go around without a corset. It was improper, immodest. Brazen.
Reaching the porch, she grabbed the basket and set it in the rocking chair to dig through the pile of laundry again. Her search yielded nothing. Maybe a wild animal had taken off with it. Knowing that she might not find it made her suddenly, uncomfortably aware of her skin against the soft cotton of her chemise, the unbound freedom of her breasts. And that brought back the reminder of how Jake Ross had seen her in nothing but her nightclothes. How he’d looked at her. Oh, goodness. She had to find her corset.
She stepped off the porch, intent on searching every inch of ground. She circled the henhouse, made a wide sweep through the prairie grass behind it, but found nothing.
Muttering under her breath, she spun toward the house and came to a complete stop. Jake Ross stood at the corner of the porch with his head tilted and a quizzical look on his face. His holster hung low on his hips. How long had he been there? Good lands, he was a quiet-moving man. Heat flamed her cheeks. “You startled me.”
“Sorry. My horse threw a shoe so I came back for another one. Thought I heard someone back here. Is everything all right, Miz York?”
“Yes, certainly.” She adjusted her glasses.
His black eyes narrowed slightly. “You sure? You seem bothered.”
It would bother her more if she had to tell him. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t have to, did she? Nothing of his had been taken.
“You lose something?”
“No.” That wasn’t a lie. She knew exactly where she’d put it. It just wasn’t there.
He took a few steps toward her, his cowboy hat shading his eyes. “Is something missing?”
Why did he have to be back, anyway? she thought grumpily. Yesterday, he’d stayed gone until after dark.
He frowned. “Seeing as how I heard a noise out here last night, I’m starting to get concerned.”
And her not answering his questions was only making him more determined. “Did… Did you take anything off the clothesline last night or this morning?”
“Did someone make off with the laundry? If any of my property’s gone, Miz York, you’d best tell me.”
She shifted from one foot to the other. If she had another corset, she wouldn’t say anything about it. But she didn’t have another one. And she felt half-naked right now standing here talking to him without it.
“Listen, lady.” He took a step toward her, his gaze leveling into hers. “We had some outlaws making merry around Whirlwind not a year ago. They were known to steal clothes off lines—”
“Something’s gone, yes, but it isn’t yours.”
“Then whose? Yours?”
Embarrassment seared every inch of her, but she nodded.
“What’s gone?” Before she could answer, a slow awareness lit his eyes and his gaze slowly lowered to her breasts before returning to her face. His compelling features cautious, he cleared his throat, gesturing in her general direction. “Is it your…um, an undergarment?”
Before she could stop herself, her surprised gaze flew to his then away. How had he guessed that? She didn’t know what she would wear until she got another corset, but she would have to figure out something. She certainly had no money to buy one right now. Georgia might be willing to lend her one, but it would be too big. Even laced as tight as it would go.
Face burning, she started for the porch. His long legs covered the distance between them in two steps and he blocked her way. She stopped abruptly, stiffening.
“Miz York, I know it vexes you to talk about this. It sure as hell isn’t what I want to talk about, but you need to tell me.”
“I—I can’t.” She kept her gaze on his dusty boots.
For a moment, he didn’t speak, then he said in a gruff voice, “I sometimes serve as a deputy for the sheriff in Whirlwind.”
Emma’s stomach plummeted. A deputy? She thought she’d been so careful to avoid the law and now she was living with a sometime-lawman. What had she done?
This wasn’t the place for Molly. No, Emma corrected, quickly calming herself. It wasn’t the place for her, but it might be good for her sister. Mr. Ross’s being a lawman would be perfect for Molly.
“Over the last few months, there’s been a rash of thefts,” he said. “Farm equipment, jewelry, tools. And, lately, some things have been stolen off clotheslines. Women’s…things. Corsets.”
The word sounded rough on his tongue and a shiver rippled up her spine. Could he tell she wasn’t wearing one? She couldn’t bear the thought.
“Several women have had their…those stolen. I don’t know if the thefts are being committed by the same person, but you need to tell the sheriff.”
“Oh, no!” Her gaze flew to his. “I couldn’t! I can’t.”
It wasn’t just the humiliation of telling another man that her corset had been stolen. It was also that she needed to stay as far from Whirlwind’s sheriff as possible. If her stepfather or one of his men showed up looking for her, the sheriff would be their first stop.
Jake Ross studied the ground then glanced up. “I know it’s embarrassing for you, but we need to tell Davis Lee.” At her frown, he added, “Sheriff Holt.”
She could see he wasn’t going to let this go.
“He needs to know there’s been another theft.”
And now that Jake Ross knew, Emma would suffer anxiety every time she saw him.
She couldn’t believe she was discussing undergarments with a man. A man she’d just met. To whom she’d been lying since setting foot on his doorstep.
“Davis Lee’s discreet. You won’t need to worry about anyone finding out.”
That was slightly reassuring. “Has this happened before?”
“Not out here!”
“Are you going to tell—”
“I won’t say anything,” he said quickly. “To anyone.”
She believed him. “Thank you.”
After a moment, he said, “We should probably go today.”
We? “I’m sure I can manage the trip. I rode out here alone, after all.”
His eyes flashed hotly. “You’re not going alone. I don’t know where that thief is or if he’ll do something besides steal a woman’s—” He shifted uncomfortably as if his boots were too small. “I’m not sure if he’d do something more dangerous than steal.”
“But—”
“I’ll have the wagon ready after lunch.”
She nodded, knowing she couldn’t protest further. He’d certainly start to wonder why she was hesitant to face the sheriff. Drat it all!
He moved aside so she could step onto the porch. She bent to pick up the baby, aware that behind her he headed toward the clothesline.
As if it weren’t nerve-racking enough to talk to the sheriff, now she’d have to spend the rest of the day with Jake Ross.
Chapter Three
They reached town a couple of hours after lunch. Being without her corset made Emma uneasy enough, but the possibility that Whirlwind’s sheriff might have already gotten information on her had her palms sweating and a hard lump wedging under her ribs. Mr. Ross guided the wagon down Whirlwind’s wide Main Street and reined to a stop in front of a weathered pine building. Several steps led up to a door with a sign hanging overhead that said Jail. She did not want to go in there.
Their ride had been mostly silent, broken occasionally by some polite, inconsequential talk that Emma felt both of them thought awkward. And, of course, none of it had been about the baby. Jake Ross appeared not to know Molly was even there.
The impression Emma had of the small West Texas town was that of a dusty, but neat community. The jail sat between the Pearl Restaurant, which Mr. Ross had told her about yesterday, and the blacksmithy. A hammer struck metal and Emma glanced over to see a large black man inside a frame shop working over an anvil. He nodded politely, and she nodded back.
The low rumble of people’s voices was broken by the clop of horses’ hooves. She managed to get down out of the wagon and pick up the baby from the seat before Mr. Ross rounded the horse. Across the street behind her, she noted Haskell’s General Store, a livery and a saloon.
She mounted the steps with her employer, pushing the glasses up her nose and tightening her hold on Molly. Despite the late August heat, Emma had worn a light shawl in an effort to make it less noticeable that she wasn’t wearing a corset.
Mr. Ross opened the door then followed her inside. The smells of pine and soap mixed with the clean male scent of the man who’d insisted she come. A handsome dark-haired man wearing a badge rose from behind a wide oak desk. A glass-front cabinet behind him held four shotguns. The lawman gave her a friendly smile, his blue eyes twinkling. “Howdy, ma’am. Jake.”
“Davis Lee Holt.” Mr. Ross took off his hat, gesturing toward Emma. “This is Miz York. She’s the lady we hired to care for the baby.”
“Miz York.” The sheriff smiled at Molly, who turned her head shyly into Emma’s neck.
The man seemed friendly and not the least suspicious, but that didn’t ease the tightness across Emma’s chest. Or keep her from mentally checking the derringer in her skirt pocket. On the wall behind him hung two Wanted posters and a notice about a circuit judge. Nothing about a runaway or kidnapped daughter. Which didn’t mean the sheriff was ignorant about her, just that there was nothing on that wall. Being on her guard, almost paranoid, was becoming second nature.
“Little Molly looks good.”
Emma wondered how the sheriff knew the child’s name, then recalled that Jake Ross had stopped by the jail the day he and his uncle had brought Molly to town to post flyers advertising for the position of baby nurse.
The rancher stepped up beside Emma, his big body surrounding her like a wall, close enough that she could feel the sun’s heat from his shirt. She wished this were over, wished she’d never had to come. If Mr. Ross hadn’t found her searching for her corset, she wouldn’t have mentioned a thing about it.
“What brings you two to town today?” The sheriff, who was two or three inches taller than the other man, eased down on the corner of his desk.
Mr. Ross glanced at Emma and said in a low voice, “If you’d rather speak to the sheriff alone, I can wait outside.”
“No,” she said quickly. The thought of him leaving her alone in the jail tied her stomach in a knot. Which just went to show how nervous she was about being face-to-face with the sheriff if she felt safer with Mr. Ross staying in here.
The baby grabbed at Emma’s glasses, yanking them across her nose. She pulled her half sister’s hand away, trying to decide how to delicately report what had been stolen.
Mr. Ross didn’t wait on her. “There was a theft at my ranch last night. One of those thefts.”
The sheriff politely kept his gaze on the rancher, but Emma was aware that the lawman’s attention sharpened. “Same piece as what was taken a week or so ago?”
“Yes.”
Heat flushed Emma’s cheeks and she held Molly tighter to her breasts, feeling practically naked.
Behind her, the door flew open and a feminine voice exclaimed, “Davis Lee, there’s been another one! Oh.”
A broad grin spread across the sheriff’s face. “Hello, wife.”
Emma looked over her shoulder to see a petite brunette move into the room beaming at Sheriff Holt. She tore her gaze from him to look at Mr. Ross. “Hello, Jake.”
“Miz Josie.”
Her warm green gaze lit on Emma and she stuck out a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Josie Holt.”
“Emma York.” She shook hands, thinking she would probably like the sheriff’s wife if given a chance to know her.
“Oh, I should’ve been quicker with an introduction,” Mr. Ross apologized.
“It’s all right.” The other woman smiled then looked at her husband. “I’m sorry. I can see I’ve interrupted.”
He nodded, an indulgent and amused look on his handsome features. As his wife reached out to touch Molly’s blond hair, a look of painful longing flitted across her pretty features. “What a darling baby. This is the little girl someone left at your house, Jake?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said stiffly.
It didn’t escape Emma’s notice that his voice had changed the instant the baby was mentioned. Nor did she miss the fleeting glances that both the sheriff and his wife gave the man, looks that appeared to be compassion. Emma turned her head to prevent the baby from grabbing her spectacles. If anyone should get their compassion, it should be Molly, especially if the man who’d taken her in didn’t want her.
“Hi there, little one.” Josie Holt bent, looking into the baby’s eyes as she stroked her cheek. “Would you let me hold you?”
Emma didn’t think her half sister would go, but, when the sheriff’s wife opened her arms, Molly studied her soberly then went. Without her sibling’s tiny body covering her chest, Emma felt it was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a corset. She drew the light shawl tighter around herself and made herself very still, the way she did when her stepfather went into one of his tempers.
“Aren’t you a beauty?” Josie murmured, fingering Molly’s fine blond curls. Her voice cracked. “Isn’t she pretty, Davis Lee?”
“Yes.” His gaze touched briefly on the child, then riveted on his wife, and the tender look on his face had Emma’s heart clenching.
Molly grasped a button on Mrs. Holt’s blue gingham bodice and the woman touched the baby’s nose. “You did just fine by finding yourself at Jake’s, little one.”
Emma wondered if the woman would still think so if she knew how quickly the rancher had removed himself from the baby yesterday morning. The sheriff’s wife brushed a light kiss against Molly’s temple before returning her to Emma. From the corner of her eye, Emma could tell that Jake Ross was looking away.
Josie walked over to her husband and said in a low voice, “When you’re finished, would you come to the shop? There’s been another one.”
Beside Emma, her employer snapped to attention. “Beggin’your pardon, Miz Josie, but do you mean another theft? Of…you know?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Emma caught the look Mr. Ross shared with Sheriff Holt, who reached out and took his wife’s hand. “I’ll come as soon as I’ve finished talking to Miz York.”
It was a bit of a relief to know that Mrs. Holt had also been a victim of the embarrassing theft. And, if Josie Holt stayed, maybe Emma wouldn’t have to say much.
“You may as well stay, Mrs. Holt,” she offered tentatively. “That’s why I’m here, too.”
“No!” Josie’s gaze shot to Emma and she whispered, “A…corset?”
The sheriff chuckled. “Honey, we can hear you.”
Smiling, she swatted at him, looking to Emma for an answer.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Last night?”
Emma nodded, adjusting her spectacles.
“Oh, my stars.” Josie clutched at her husband’s hand. “Davis Lee, you’ve got to do something. This can’t go on.”
“I’m doing the best I can, Josie. There are those other thefts I have to worry about, too.”
“I thought the only garments being stolen were ones I’d made, but this most recent theft—the two most recent thefts—those pieces weren’t made by me. You have to do something.”
The lawman looked at Emma. “When did you first notice it was gone?”
“A few hours ago.” So, Mrs. Holt was a seamstress. The sheriff’s blue gaze was steady and probing, making Emma feel he might know she didn’t need these glasses, that her eyesight was just fine.
The possibility that he might find out who she was, why she was in Whirlwind had her skin prickling. “I did the wash yesterday and left everything on the line to dry overnight.”
Mr. Ross’s deep voice rumbled out, “Late last night, I heard a noise outside, but when I looked around, I couldn’t find any sign of anyone. Didn’t realize then that Miz York’s cors—” A dull flush colored his neck. “That anything had been taken off the line.”
“What time was that?”
“I’d say just after midnight.”
“Was it one of your finer garments?” Josie asked Emma, her gaze lingering on the baby.
“Yes.”
Jake Ross didn’t look at Emma or do anything that might indicate he was thinking about their meeting half-dressed in the kitchen after midnight. But she felt a tension stretch between them and she knew he was thinking about it. Because she was.
Josie Holt nodded. “Pearl said hers was taken after dark last night. She discovered it when she went to the clothesline before bed.”
“Pearl Anderson owns the Pearl Restaurant,” Mr. Ross reminded Emma.
“Did she hear anything?” the sheriff asked his wife.
“She said no.”
Sheriff Holt rose and moved behind his desk, opening a drawer in the middle and pulling out a leather-covered book. He flipped through a couple of pages then glanced at his sometime-deputy. “You made note when the last theft like this was reported.”
“Yeah. It was Susannah’s.” Jake stepped around Emma to confer with the lawman. “If I recollect, it was just a little over a week ago.”
As the men discussed dates of the other thefts, Josie eased up to Emma and said quietly, “Susannah is married to Davis Lee’s brother.”
Emma nodded.
“If you need another dress corset, I want you to come by my shop and get one.”
Emma needed a corset, period. But she didn’t have the money to buy one.
The seamstress seemed to sense why she hesitated and said kindly, “I want to give it to you. This is no kind of welcome to a new town.”
Touched, Emma was speechless for a moment. The woman didn’t even know her. “I can’t, but thank you. Really.”
“You can put it on account.”
Emma couldn’t do that, either. What if she and Molly had to run in the middle of the night? Emma wouldn’t be able to pay on the account for a long while and that would be a reminder of her to these people. A reminder she couldn’t afford if her stepfather or his man came looking for her. “I can come in after I get my first wages.”
Josie looked as if she might insist, then smiled warmly. “All right then.”
Behind them, the door opened. Emma turned to see a tall, red-haired girl who looked to be a few years younger than her.
“Mrs. Holt,” the newcomer said. “I locked up the shop and I’m taking lunch to Zeke, if that’s all right.”
“Of course, Zoe. Thanks for letting me know.”
“I won’t be long.”
“All right.” Josie smiled. As the other woman backed out of the office and closed the door, Josie’s attention came back to Emma. “That’s Zoe Keeler. She works for me. Zeke is her younger brother.”
Emma nodded.
Closing the book, the sheriff said to the other man, “I’m gonna come out to the Circle R later on and look around.”
“I figured you would.”
Emma’s heartbeat sped up.
“Can you think of anything else that might be helpful?”
“No.” Her boss looked at Emma with the same question in his eyes.
“I don’t think so,” she said. She hoped the sheriff wouldn’t ask for a description of the garment.
“All right then.” Davis Lee looked thoughtful. “This is the first time this thief has struck twice in one night. I wonder why.”
“I wish he or she would quit it!” his wife burst out. “People are going to stop buying clothing from me.”
“Honey, they know it isn’t your fault.”
“Oh, fiddle, people don’t give a fig about whose fault it is.” She paced in front of her husband, her skirts swooshing against the wood floor. “They just know that things I make are being stolen and they won’t buy anything because they’re afraid it’ll be stolen, too.”
He chuckled, catching her hand and stilling her.
“I hope you’re wrong, Miz Josie,” Jake said. “Because that’s just plain silly.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled as he turned to open the door. “We’ll be on our way, then. See you later, Davis Lee.”
“Yeah.”
Emma said goodbye then preceded Mr. Ross out the door, noticing how the baby watched him. Emma glanced back before starting down the steps and saw the sheriff pull his wife into his lap. Taken by the sight, Emma paused.
Josie put her arms around her husband’s neck and laid her head on his shoulder. Davis Lee Holt was every bit as broad as Jake Ross and taller, but Josie Holt didn’t act one bit afraid of him. Emma wondered what it would be like to be that at ease with a man. Just one.
About halfway down the steps, Mr. Ross stopped. “I forgot to tell Davis Lee something. I’ll be right back.”
“All right.”
As she waited, she talked to Molly, pointing out the livery across the way then a hotel just beyond that looked almost finished. A sign across the front of the two-story stone building said New Owners. Construction to Resume Soon.
So far, the sheriff didn’t appear to have any information about a senator’s missing stepdaughter and daughter. The relief that moved through Emma was so strong it made her light-headed, as if she’d been out in the sun too long.
The heavy thud of boots sounded on the steps behind her and Jake Ross joined her. As they stepped into the dusty street, she started for the wagon, but he halted.
“Miz York, would you like something to drink before we head back?”
She hesitated, wondering if he realized the baby would have to come, too.
“Do you like lemonade? Pearl makes a good one.”
“Lemonade?” she asked in surprise. She loved lemonade, thought longingly of her mother’s. “Yes, I like it.”
“I’m thirsty and you probably are, too. Let’s have us a glass before we head back to the ranch.”
She supposed she could refuse and wait for him in the wagon, but lemonade… “All right.”
He gave a sharp nod and gestured to the right.
As they walked to the Pearl Restaurant, Emma wondered what his feelings toward the baby really were. She didn’t think she’d misread him, but she needed to be sure. She was no good at coaxing information out of people, but she wanted—needed—to know if Jake Ross was the one who should raise Molly.
As they stepped up on the plank walk in front of the restaurant, he stopped abruptly, calling out to a sturdy, red-haired man walking toward them. “Hoot!”
Emma halted beside Jake, keeping her head bent toward the baby. The fewer people who got a good look at her, the better.
The man stopped several inches away. “Jake. Ma’am.” He extended his hand. “Hoot Eckert.”
“This is Miz York, the baby’s nurse.”
“Hello,” she murmured, shaking his hand.
Eckert’s face was as round as his body and the red mustache and long sideburns gave him a jovial look. He peered at Molly. “So, this is the little girl you found.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “I was wondering if you’d had any replies to that ad yet.”
Emma’s spine went to steel. This man ran the newspaper and Jake Ross was asking if a family had been found for Molly. Anger hummed through her.
“No, not yet. If I hear anything, I’ll come out to the Circle R or send Chesterene.”
“I’d appreciate it.” Jake shook hands with the man, who tipped his hat to her and walked on.
Emma didn’t know who Chesterene was and she didn’t care. All she cared about was the disappointment in Jake Ross’s taut voice that he was still responsible for Molly. Emma had to keep her mouth shut—the baby was supposed to be only a job to her.
The lanky rancher held open the door to the Pearl, his expression neutral until she passed in front of him with the baby. Then his face closed up like a coffin.
His reaction to the little girl was so obvious that Emma was unable to stop a flare of temper. “If you hadn’t found someone for the job, would you have sent Molly to that orphanage?”
Surprise flashed through his eyes before they went hard. Emma braced herself. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything in front of these people. And, if he tried, she had her derringer in her skirt pocket.
Jaw clenched tight, he stood in the doorway of the restaurant, looking away. “I would’ve figured something out.”
What did that mean? Emma was afraid she knew. As much as she wanted to stay out of Jake Ross’s way, she had to find out if this was the place for her to leave her half sister. She had to learn as much about him as she could. Without giving away anything about herself.
If you hadn’t found someone for the job, would you have sent Molly to that orphanage? Damn if it was any of her business.
They’d left Whirlwind about an hour ago and that question had been sawing at Jake ever since. He wouldn’t have been able to send the kid there. Still, he didn’t like Emma York asking questions like that. She worked for him. She didn’t need to know any more than that.
But there was something about her. He couldn’t stop staring at her, though he’d managed to keep from it in Davis Lee’s office. The Pearl had been another matter. He’d ordered their lemonade and been surprised by Miz York’s reaction. She didn’t just like the sweet drink; she loved it. The first true smile he’d seen from her spread across her face and chased away the shadows in her eyes. And, just like that, Jake was staring again.
She wore a pink calico dress that hung a little loosely on her slender frame. Her long, dark hair was up today, not down as he’d seen it last night. As the wagon rocked along the hard-packed road toward the ranch, his mind seemed stuck on their meeting in the kitchen. The lamplight had gilded her hair with amber. He had wanted to touch the silky thickness. Because he still did, he tightened his grip on the reins.
Still, thinking about Emma York was a sight better than thinking about his brother-in-law, whom he’d glimpsed as they’d left town. Quentin hadn’t seen Jake and Jake hadn’t stopped to remedy that. He didn’t want to think about his brother-in-law so he turned his thoughts to the visit he’d paid to the sheriff.
He’d been planning to let Miz York go in alone to see Davis Lee, but she’d been trembling. There had been as much apprehension on her face as there had been embarrassment. As difficult as it had been for her to tell Jake about the theft of her corset, it had to be at least that hard to tell another man. No one at the ranch knew why he and the baby nurse had gone to Whirlwind. He didn’t see any reason to deepen her embarrassment by telling his family, who couldn’t do anything about it, anyway.
Knowing her corset had been stolen and observing how tightly she wrapped that shawl around herself had Jake figuring she didn’t have on a corset. Just as she hadn’t last night.
Coming upon her in the kitchen had torched something inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a lot of years. Bathed in the soft amber light, Emma York had looked like an angel. He hadn’t been able to see anything bare save her dainty feet, although that hadn’t stopped him wishing he had.
“The sheriff and his wife are good friends of yours?”
He sliced a look at her. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left town. Or, well, since they’d stopped a half mile back to make a pallet in the wagon bed for the baby, who’d fallen asleep. Miz York had held the child all day.
“Yeah, I’ve known Davis Lee my whole life. He and his brother, Riley. Miz Josie moved here only last fall. She’s a real nice lady.”
“Did she come here to marry the sheriff?”
Jake chuckled. “No. Those two danced around each other for a while on account of Miz Josie coming here to kill one of Davis Lee’s prisoners.”
“What?” The nurse’s jaw dropped.
Jake wasn’t much of a storyteller, but he seemed to hold her attention as he told her about Ian McDougal, the outlaw who had murdered Josie’s parents and fiancé. “He was part of a gang of brothers. They also killed a man from Whirlwind and nearly did in a Ranger when they murdered his partner. When Ian was finally caught, he was put in Whirlwind’s jail to wait for his trial.”
“Goodness,” she breathed. “So did he have a trial? What happened? Did Mrs. Holt kill him?”
“Not in the end, but she had a chance to. He hit me upside the head and escaped from the jail.”
Miz York frowned as she glanced at him. “How badly were you hurt?”
“Just had a big knot on my head. And my pride stung a little. Miz Josie and the sheriff both took off after McDougal, but she wound up letting him escape so she could bring Davis Lee back here because he got shot. The McDougals also killed our stage driver. That man’s brother-in-law ended up being the one to bring in the outlaw. Ian McDougal was tried and hanged not long after. Which he should’ve been, but Loren Barnes had to suffer for his part in it.”
“Why?”
“He made an attempt on McDougal’s life while the man was in jail here. Loren went to prison, but a lot of people, including the sheriff, didn’t think that was right. Davis Lee and his cousin, Jericho Blue, a Texas Ranger, were able to convince the judge to reduce the sentence to nine months. Loren’s supposed to get out next month. His sister, Cora, still lives here so I figure he’ll be coming back.”
“Aren’t people afraid?”
“Of Loren? Naw.” If they had to talk, Jake would much rather talk about this than anything about himself. He hadn’t spoken this long at a stretch since his school days when he’d been required to read aloud from McGuffey’sReader every single day. “He was only trying to get justice for his widowed sister.”
“Whirlwind seems like such a quiet place.”
“It generally is.” He glanced over, catching a whiff of her soft scent and the flowers that grew in wild patches across the prairie. “What about where you’re from?”
“What do you mean?”
She looked as if he’d caught her sneaking around in the dark. “You come from a big town in Illinois?”
“A little bigger than Whirlwind,” she said quietly.
“You got people back there?”
She looked over her shoulder to check on the baby, but Jake got the impression she did it to avoid giving him her full attention. “Like who?”
“Your husband’s family or yours, I guess.”
“My mother and father are both there. Do you have any family besides the people at the ranch?”
Even now, five years later, it hurt like blue blazes to think about the wife and child he’d lost. “That’s it.”
“Georgia said Mr. Bram hasn’t been here all that long.”
Why was Miz York so all-fired interested in his family? Or was it only Bram? “He’s a drover.”
“Drives cattle?”
He nodded, dark thoughts creeping in. Of his resentment over Delia leaving him the way she had, of her brother, whom Jake didn’t want to feel responsible for anymore. “A lot of ranchers are sending their cattle to market and slaughter by train so work on the cattle drives is drying up. Bram came home about five months ago to work with me and Uncle Ike.”
“How long have your uncle and Georgia lived with you?”
“Always.” His jaw tightened. His whole family lived at the ranch and Jake liked it. Being cast off by their own mother, it was the only home he and Bram had ever known.
For a few short years after marrying, Jake had had all he’d ever wanted except a child with Delia. He’d wanted that more than anything and that desire had killed his wife. Now she was gone and so was his hope of having a family. Pretty much his interest in having one, too.
Jake hoped Miz York would shut up now. He was talked out. She sure did ask a lot of questions for someone who wasn’t all that free with information about herself. He didn’t mind answering some questions, but when she ventured into territory that made him think about his wife, he’d had enough.
They were less than a mile from the Circle R when a slow shrieking noise split the air. At the same instant Jake realized what it meant, a sharp crack sounded. The wagon hit the ground hard on Miz York’s side, the right front wheel splintering.
Before he could grab her, she pitched out of the wagon into the tall grass. She cried out, her skirts flying up to reveal the hem of a petticoat and a flash of white stockings. The crash jolted the baby and she screamed then began to sob. The horse drew up abruptly.
With a sick feeling in his gut, Jake half slid, half scrambled out of the wagon to check the little girl. Though he didn’t want to, he moved his hands over her. She was carrying on as if her tail were on fire, but she didn’t appear to be hurt. No blood, no scratches, no immediately visible broken bones.
He turned, looking for the baby nurse. Where was she? There, yards away, her pink calico dress almost hidden by the tall grass. He strode toward her. “Miz York!”
He told himself to remain calm, but as he moved, a black rage began to build. Knowing that wheel was weak, he’d told Waylon two days ago to fix it after he and Uncle Ike had returned from Whirlwind. Now Miz York might be hurt. The baby could’ve been, too.
Jake reached the slight woman just as she pushed herself to a sitting position. Her glasses were gone, tendrils of brown hair escaping from her chignon.
“Are you all right?” He knelt, but she got quickly to her feet, swaying slightly then steadying herself.
“The baby! Where’s the baby?”
“She’s still in the wagon.” He stood.
The nurse rushed past him.
“She’s okay. Are you?” A glitter in the grass caught his eye and he picked up her spectacles just before stepping on them. They were scratched, but not broken.
“Did you just leave her there?” Her voice trembled with anger. “Did you check on her at all?”
“Of course I did!” he snapped as he followed her to the wagon. What did she think he was, a coldhearted SOB? “She wasn’t bleeding, she wasn’t scratched, she didn’t appear to be hurt, but I wasn’t so sure about you. I’m still not. Did you bust anything?”
“I think I’m fine.” Reaching over the side of the wagon, she gathered the sobbing infant to her, cuddling her close and murmuring to her.
He sure couldn’t fault her care or concern for that child. As she turned toward him, Jake saw a cut over her left eyebrow and a scratch along the line of her jaw. Fury exploded inside him. His fist closed, nearly crushing her glasses. He ripped off his hat and started toward her.
Her eyes went wide and she backed up so fast she hit the side of the wagon. Her arm came up as if to ward off a blow. “Stay away! Stay back.”
“What?” Jake frowned, his gaze skipping over her, looking for further injuries. Maybe she’d taken a hit to the head. Waylon was going to answer for this.
“Stop! Don’t come any closer.” Holding the baby with one arm, she fumbled at her skirt pocket.
It registered then, how her voice shook, how the color had drained from her face. And Jake understood. She thought he was coming after her. She thought he was going to hit her!
That stopped him cold in his tracks a few feet away from her, cooling the rage pumping through his blood. A deep pain sliced at him. “You think I would hurt you? I would never—”
“Please, please stop.” She kept her hand in her pocket.
He realized he had taken another step toward her. He halted, reeling with disbelief and realization. Someone had hit her before. That made Jake angry all over again, but he struggled to keep it from showing.
“I’ll back up,” he said as he did it. The woman was terrified, her green eyes huge in her pale face. The distrust on her face twisted his gut. “I’m not coming closer, see? I’ll stay right here.”
After long seconds, she nodded, her pretty eyes full of turmoil.
Crushing his hat in his fist, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
The wariness in her eyes was so deep, so dark that he wanted to gather her to him and soothe her until she knew there was no need to fear him. But that would probably scare her spitless. “Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said tautly, her arms wrapped so tightly around the baby that the little girl protested with a loud noise.
“You have a cut above your eye. Your left one.”
She reached up to touch it, looking surprised at the blood on her fingers. “I’m all right.”
She was as frightened and defensive as a wounded animal. He could see she wasn’t going to let him get any closer and they needed to get home before dark. “I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna unhitch the mare. I’ll walk and you and the…baby can ride back to the ranch.”
She looked at the horse, then the damaged wagon. “I’ll walk, instead,” she said quickly.
He started to insist she ride then realized he would have to help her mount. She didn’t want him putting his hands on her.
Agreeing to let her walk went against everything his uncle had taught him about how to treat a lady, but Ike hadn’t seen the pure-dee terror in Emma York’s face when she’d thought Jake was going to hit her. “Are you sure you won’t ride—”
“I’m sure.”
The unsteadiness of her voice told him she was still afraid. He didn’t blame her. She didn’t know him well enough to know that she didn’t need to fear him. “If you’re in pain or hurt anywhere else,” he said gruffly, “I can carry her.”
“I’ll do it.”
He knew the relief was plain on his face when her mouth tightened. After placing her glasses carefully on the corner of the lopsided wagon, he walked around the mare’s head to the other side. Letting Emma York know she had plenty of room.
Jake jammed his hat on his head. After making sure the mare was uninjured, he unhitched her and looped the wagon reins into one hand. Letting his nurse walk to the ranch, especially carrying the baby, grated hard on him. “You tell me if you need to stop or if something starts hurting.”
“I will.”
With one last look back at her, he started walking. But she didn’t. After a long moment, he finally caught her movement out of the corner of his eye.
Someone—some man—had obviously hit her before. Who? When? Was that why she was here? Was she running from someone?
Jake didn’t want any trouble, didn’t need to get involved in someone else’s trouble. He was involved in plenty of his own.
But he couldn’t forget the paralyzing fear he’d seen in her face, her eyes. Jake cursed under his breath. He could shine it up any way he wanted, but he was involved.
Chapter Four
Well after dark that night, Emma’s nerves were still jumping and it wasn’t so much from the wagon accident as it was from the man who now believed she was afraid of him.
The incredulous look in Jake’s dark eyes when she’d cowered from him was burned in her brain. He’d quickly masked it, but he had been wounded by her reaction.
She was in the kitchen, where she’d stayed as much as possible since Sheriff Holt’s arrival shortly after supper. He and Jake had remained outside until the sun had set.
Georgia had offered to help Emma clean up, but she’d waved off the older woman’s assistance. So, Georgia had kept Ike and Molly company in the front room until the older two had brought Emma the baby and gone up to bed a few moments ago. Jake’s uncle and cousin seemed to really like the little girl. Everyone did, except Jake.
Emma sang softly to Molly as she swayed back and forth, putting the little girl to sleep. The buttery scent of corn bread and savory meat still lingered in the room. She waited until she could no longer hear the retreating hoof-beats of the sheriff’s horse before she stepped out of the kitchen. With Molly asleep on her shoulder, she scanned the spacious living area for any sign of Jake or his brother.
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced over, toward her room. Jake stood in the doorway, his wide shoulders filling the space.
Emma started in surprise. She hadn’t heard him come in, let alone make his way to her room.
He looked startled, too, as if he were surprised to see her.
“Oh. There you are,” he said gruffly as he moved to the dining table, staying on the opposite side. “I just wanted to let you know that Davis Lee didn’t find anything to help us with that thief, but we’ll keep looking. Not just for your, uh—” His gaze skipped away. “You know.”
She realized he was trying not to look at her chest. Her corsetless chest. Oh, lands.
“Okay,” she said in a half whisper, her own gaze dropping. Heat moved up her neck and into her cheeks. She needed to think of a way to make do until she could get another corset. Maybe two chemises? That sounded miserable in this hot weather.
Hugging the baby close, she moved over to the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace and gently laid down the little girl. The mingled scents of man and horse and outdoors drifted from her boss. When Emma straightened, she saw Jake’s big hands curl over the back of a heavy dining-room chair, his knuckles white against the dark bronze of his hands. As if he was trying to keep himself from moving.
And he was, she realized. He was trying to keep some space between them. Again, regret rolled through her. She wanted to apologize for reacting the way she had after the accident, but it was better this way, wasn’t it? The less comfortable she became with him—with his family—the easier it would be when she had to leave.
“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get your clothes back,” he said tautly.
She nodded, returning to the table as she adjusted her spectacles. They’d gotten scratched when she’d flown out of the wagon and Jake had picked them up. Which was good, because Emma had forgotten she was supposed to wear them.
Releasing the chair, he stepped away as he gestured at her. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said quietly. Her jaw was sore and scratched and the cut above her left eyebrow stung, but it could’ve been worse. The baby could’ve been hurt, too. Georgia had tended Emma, saying the wound wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. Thank goodness.
“I’m glad you’re all right.” The lantern light behind him stretched his shadow across the ceiling and far wall. His dark gaze burned into hers, causing a quiver in her belly. “It never should’ve happened.”
She managed a small smile, her body humming with a low vibration she didn’t understand. And a heightened awareness that she and Jake were the only two down here.
The front door opened and they both turned toward the sound. Bram came in, pulling off his dirty cowboy hat and hanging it on the rack behind the door. Red dust floated from his dark hair and rugged work clothes to the floor as he backed into the wall, toeing off one boot then the other.
Jake took a step toward the other man. “Any luck?”
Bram nodded, his gaze going to Emma. “Hi, Miz York.”
“Hello. I was just fixing a plate for you. I’ll get it.”
“Thanks.” His voice was gritty with fatigue. “I’m so hungry I could eat my saddle blanket.”
She walked the few steps into the kitchen, able to hear their low murmurs and catch a few words. She appreciated that they were keeping their voices down so as not to wake the baby.
Jake had told her earlier that Bram had gone out today with a group of ranchers, all riding fence to check on their cattle. In the last two weeks, the Circle R had lost four prime steers to a rustler. Jake had mentioned that a neighboring spread, the Rocking H, and the nearby Triple B ranch had also lost some prime beef. The Rocking H belonged to Sheriff Holt’s brother, Riley, but Emma couldn’t remember the name of the other owner. She knew they were both friends of the Ross family.
“We found an old camp and three ash piles.” Bram’s voice was scratchy with fatigue. “Riley and I figure it’s from the fire they used to heat their own brands and change ours.”
“A running iron?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re modifying our brand, Holt’s, the Baldwins.”
“Yeah, and right now we don’t know what mark they’re using. Could be a bar, a circle. We just don’t know.”
“You got a brand book?” Jake asked.
“The last one issued by the livestock association and a copy of The PrairieCaller for double-checkin’. There may be some new brands in the paper’s latest edition.”
Emma knew The Prairie Caller was the newspaper in Whirlwind. The newspaper in which Jake had run an ad hoping to get a family for Molly.
“At least the book will show us what’s legitimate,” Jake said. “Maybe help us figure out the brands that aren’t.”
The men’s voices dropped so low that Emma couldn’t hear any more. She uncovered the plate of corn bread and ham she’d put aside for Bram. After removing a cloth from the earthen pitcher of buttermilk, she filled a real glass, then carried it with the plate to the dining-room table. She set down the food, glancing toward the brothers.
Jake’s gaze flickered over her, his jaw locking, his eyes flashing. Apprehension had her going still. Why was he looking at her like that? What were they talking about?
“Well?” Bram leveled a look at his brother.
Jake turned away and started for the stairs. Over his shoulder, he said, “Good night, Miz York.”
“Good night.”
Bram gave a derisive snort and came to the table. Emma looked from him to Jake, who was already halfway up the stairs. What was going on?
Bram slid into his chair. “This looks really good, ma’am. You’re a good cook.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ross.”
“You’d better call me Bram.” His blue eyes twinkled. “You’ll talk yourself dizzy calling all three of us Mr. Ross.”
“All right.” She turned for the kitchen. “I’ll be in here, finishing up. If you need anything, let me know.”
He nodded, already digging in. Giving one last look to make sure Molly still slept, Emma went back into the kitchen and pumped water into the deep sink. Back in Topeka, her mother’s house had boasted an indoor pump and a bathing tub. Emma had been pleasantly surprised to find those conveniences here, too. There was even an oblong bathing tub in her room. Jake Ross and his family must do very well with their ranch.
She washed the bread pans, the griddle, the egg beater and the good china Georgia said had been her mother’s, setting everything on the wide counter to the side to hand-dry when she finished rinsing.
As she worked, her mind went again to the wagon accident. Once they’d arrived home, Jake had gotten her and Molly into the house. His jaw had been set, his features cold and intimidating, but he hadn’t yelled or punched or threatened the way Emma’s stepfather did when he was angry. He had simply said, in a voice vibrating with quiet fury, that he was going back for that busted wheel then would be in the barn fixing it.
Georgia had told her a ranch hand named Waylon was the one who had neglected to fix the wheel when Jake had told him to do so, and he’d been fired. There were enough dangers on a ranch without making their own by being remiss.
“That hit the spot, Miz York,” Bram said as he walked into the kitchen.
Jerked out of her thoughts, she smiled over her shoulder at him. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“The baby’s sleeping real good. I just checked.”
“Thank you.” She turned and took his plate, their fingers brushing. Emma thought back to when her fingers had touched Jake’s yesterday morning at breakfast. His touch had sent heat streaking up her arm and into other places of her body. But she felt nothing like that at his brother’s touch.
Bram moved to her other side, snagging a clean dish towel from the rack on the wall beside the sink. “I’ll help you dry.”
“Oh, no! That’s not—”
“Do I smell too much like dirt and cattle?”
He did smell of those things, but Emma didn’t find it unpleasant. She was more worried that someone—Jake—might think she wasn’t doing her job if everyone kept helping her all the time. With the back of her hand, she pushed her eyeglasses up. “You look worn out.”
“No offense, but so do you. If we work together, we can both turn in sooner.”
“Wouldn’t you rather eat the last of the apple pie?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “I thought I might sneak that upstairs.”
She laughed as he picked up the skillet and began drying. He glanced over at her. “Jake told me there was a wagon accident today.”
She tensed, wondering if his brother had told him why they’d been in the wagon to start with. It was bad enough that Jake knew she wasn’t wearing a corset; she would be mortified if he’d told his brother about the theft.
But the other man acted as if he had no idea about her missing undergarment. “It’s good the baby’s okay, but Jake said you got banged up a bit.”
“Just a scrape or two.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”
“Me, too.”
“A busted wheel can be dangerous. Scary.”
“Yes. And loud.” She smiled at him, relieved to think that Jake had told his brother only about the wagon accident.
“Did he see anyone in town besides Hoot—”
He broke off abruptly and her gaze swung to his. So, he knew Jake had asked the newspaper man, Mr. Eckert, about the ad regarding Molly.
Bram chewed the inside of his cheek, looking as if he wished he hadn’t said that. After a long pause, he continued, “Did he talk to anyone named Quentin?”
“No, only the man from the newspaper.” The thought made her mad all over again and she couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. She rinsed the coffeepot and began drying. “He just had to know if anyone had responded to his ad about a family for Molly.”
This time, it was Bram’s gaze slicing to her and Emma winced inwardly. She had to watch what she said. Comments like that could anger these men. Any time she had expressed her opinion at home had certainly made her stepfather angry.
But, when Bram spoke, he sounded thoughtful, reassuring. “I don’t look for him to find a family. Not one that’s suitable, anyway. He won’t let her go with anyone if he isn’t a hundred percent sure.”
Emma didn’t see why Jake had to try and give Molly away, at all. She put the clean coffeepot back on the stove, asking softly, “Do you want to give her away, too?”
“No, but I haven’t been through what he’s—”
Emma glanced up, waiting.
Bram peered hard at the skillet he dried. “He’ll come around. He’s a tough nut to crack sometimes.”
She wanted to believe Bram; he certainly knew his brother better than she did. But what had he meant about Jake? What had he been through?
Before she could ponder too long, the big man beside her stacked the now-clean pans and placed them up on the long shelf that ran the length of the wall behind the sink. He hung the damp towel on the rack.
“Thanks for your help.” She dried her hands on her apron.
“You’re welcome. You should get some shut-eye. You’ve had a rough day.”
She doused the lantern, then followed him out of the kitchen.
He took care of the lantern at the foot of the stairs then started up, his piece of pie wrapped in a cloth. Pale yellow light washed down the stairs from a hall lamp by the bedrooms. “Good night.”
“Good night.” She bent and picked up Molly, soothing the little girl when she stirred. In the few steps it took to reach their room, the baby was again deeply asleep.
Emma moved to the bed, noticing a plain brown wrapped package at the foot of the mattress.
Last night, in the middle of the night, the little girl had climbed out and toddled over to Emma. She’d wanted to play and, when Emma had finally gotten Molly back to sleep, she’d kept the baby in bed with her. She couldn’t have her sister wandering about at night.
She settled the little girl into the fat mattress, where she would sleep until her bed arrived. Emma folded the blanket to the foot of the bed and left only the top sheet. The nights were too hot for more than one layer. She picked up the package and walked to the washstand against the far wall to turn up the lamp a bit. Amber light flickered on the floor as she sank down into the rocking chair that sat near the window. Tired and sore, Emma took off her glasses and placed them on the washstand. She closed her eyes for a second before unknotting the twine around the package and opening it. She gaped.
A corset!
As her fingers skimmed over the pale colored sateen-weave cotton and cream lace trim at the top, she wavered between embarrassment and pleasure. But, when she touched the satin ribbon threaded through the lace, the embarrassment faded. Jake had gotten her a corset. It had to have been him; no one else knew. How had he done it? When?
The package hadn’t been in the wagon; it would’ve flown out during the accident and Emma would’ve seen it. She lifted the undergarment, taking note of the fine whalebone, the steel busk at the center front where it hooked together. It was a “spoon busk,” curved in at the waist and widened into a pear shape at the bottom. That was what gave it smooth, slim lines, what every fashionable woman wore.
The garment was much finer than Emma’s stolen one. She held it up by the side seams to check the width. It would fit. It looked perfect. Her throat tightened.
Jake Ross had gotten her a corset.
She stared in amazement. She had to thank him.
It wouldn’t suit to ignore the gesture, regardless of the gift being so intimate. She pushed out of the rocking chair, clasping the undergarment tight as she hurried out of her room. She stopped outside of the door.
Everyone was asleep. Jake probably wouldn’t be coming back down here tonight and Emma certainly couldn’t go up there. Slowly, she turned and went back into her room, so overwhelmed she felt as if her chest might burst.
Believing her to be afraid, he had kept a marked distance from her ever since they’d reached the ranch. The smart thing to do would be to keep her distance, as well. It was best for her and Molly’s safety. But Emma couldn’t ignore the gift. She just couldn’t. The first time they had a moment alone, she would thank him.
Emma had been wearing her new corset for the last two days and she knew Jake was aware. Three times she had caught his heated gaze on her. But she still hadn’t had a single opportunity to thank him alone.
She wanted it done. Maybe then she could stop thinking about him in her room, touching her corset.
It was midafternoon and Georgia had gone into town for a Saturday meeting with the library committee. The men were out stringing fence. Emma had heard more talk last night as they’d tried to decide how to set a trap for the cattle rustlers.
About a half hour ago, Emma had put the baby down for her nap then swept and dusted the rooms upstairs. Now she surveyed the freshly scrubbed kitchen floor and fanned herself with one hand. Perspiration trickled between her breasts and down her spine, and she plucked the light cotton dress away from her skin. Pushing back the hair that had come loose from her braid, she undid the top two buttons on her bodice.
Since it appeared she wasn’t ever going to be able to talk to Jake alone, she would write him a thank-you note. She walked across the room to the big oak desk that sat in a space off the living area. A quill pen and ink well rested on the far corner, but Emma saw no paper.
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Debra Cowan
Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesIn fleeing her past, she found a future…Jake Ross’s life changes in a day when he finds a baby on his doorstep! Then he’s thrown into a spin by the quiet beauty he hires to look after his unexpected delivery.On the wild Texas frontier, everyone has something to hide – and Emma York is no exception. Jake can see that she has secrets, but the sexy rancher’s sure he can take care of her…if he can only find out what she needs protection from!
Praise for Debra Cowan
‘Cowan’s stories have the charm, tenderness and
sensuality that captivate and enchant.’
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
‘WHIRLWIND GROOM is a book not to be missed.’
—Romance Junkies
‘The third Whirlwind western romance is a fabulous historical…Debra Cowan provides a delightful Texas late-nineteenth-century romance.’ —The Best Reviews
‘Cowan takes the qualities of an Americana western,
adds the grit of a chase, and writes a tale that also has
deep family ties, pulsing sexual tension and the harsh
reality of the West. This is a solid western with an
added poignancy that truly tugs at the heart.’
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
‘WHIRLWIND BRIDE is an utterly delightful kick-off
for what promises to be a great mini-series.’
—Reader To Reader
She’d been so careful. He couldn’t have found them yet. Please, not yet.
“What do you think they wanted?” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake still at the outside door, his gaze riveted on her. Her hair. Could he tell that this nut-brown wasn’t her natural colour? That it was a dye made from walnut leaves and husks?
It hit her then that her hair was down, plaited into a braid that lay over her shoulder and against her dress. That all she had on was her nightrail and wrapper. And that all he had on were…denims.
There was a fluttery sensation in her stomach that she didn’t understand. She forced herself to look away from his chest, but she could feel his gaze traveling slowly down her body…
Like many writers, Debra Cowan made up stories in her head as a child. Her BA in English was obtained with the intention of following family tradition and becoming a schoolteacher, but after she wrote her first novel there was no looking back. An avid history buff, Debra writes both historical and contemporary romances. Born in the foothills of the Kiamichi Mountains, Debra still lives in her native Oklahoma with her husband. Debra invites her readers to contact her at PO Box 30123, Coffee Creek Station, Edmond, OK, USA, 73003-0003, or visit her website at: http://www.debracowan.net
WHIRLWIND BABY
Debra Cowan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my aunt, Sue Warren Green
Chapter One
West Texas, 1885
Jake Ross would rather eat barbed wire than have anything to do with a kid, but thanks to the supposed “dying woman” who’d left a baby at his door three days ago, he was interviewing applicants for a baby nurse and housekeeper.
On this hot August afternoon, everyone except his cousin, Georgia, had taken off faster than a six-legged jackrabbit. She and Jake were in the large front room of the ranch house. Georgia sat in one of the wide leather chairs at the end of the deer-hide sofa as Jake spoke to a tall woman with a British accent. Miz Alma Halvorson was the first person to respond to the ads that he and his uncle had posted in Whirlwind after determining no one there could or would take the infant.
Jake let Georgia keep an eye on the little girl sleeping on the bearskin rug in front of the rock fireplace while he asked questions. Which was a chore because he could barely think past the hammering in his head. He’d spent Saturday afternoon in a bottle, just as he did every other Saturday and he was still feelin’ the misery a day and a half later. The pounding in his head only throbbed harder every time he looked at that kid.
After church yesterday, he had asked around the small nearby town of Whirlwind about a family for Molly. Riley and Susannah Holt couldn’t take her because they’d just had another baby. Riley’s cousin, Jericho Blue, and his wife, Catherine, couldn’t take in the little girl because they’d just learned they were expecting. And Jake hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask Davis Lee and Josie Holt. They had just lost a baby and asking them to take Molly so soon after hadn’t seemed right.
After speaking to several other families, he’d driven out to Fort Greer and spoken to Dr. Butler about possibilities. No luck there, either. He’d wired two doctors in Abilene and the marshal about families who might take the child, but no one could help right now. Nor had any of the doctors treated a dying woman who’d been of the age to have an infant.
Jake needed to find some help today. Because, if he didn’t, he’d be stuck taking care of it and he just wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Of course, with only one good arm, Georgia couldn’t, either. His uncle and brother might not mind caring for the child, but they did have a ranch to run.
“Whose baby is that?” the persimmon-faced candidate asked.
“I don’t know.” Jake looked down at the blond-haired infant, his heart squeezing. After fussing and crying most of the last three nights and on the trip into town yesterday, she had finally fallen asleep on the ride home. “I thought I told you I found her at the door last Friday night.”
“No, I meant—” She cleared her throat as her gaze skipped away from his. “Does she belong to you? Is she your illegitimate—”
“No, she isn’t,” Jake said sharply, “and what difference does it make if she is?”
She was an innocent child. Jake might not want her, but he didn’t think she deserved to be thrown away. No kid should be left at someone’s door like last week’s laundry.
He still couldn’t believe someone could actually abandon a child. As if the baby picked up on his dark thoughts, she began to cry.
Jake gritted his teeth and walked over to pick her up, handling her just as awkwardly as he had since she’d arrived. She’d been left in one of their wash tubs along with a blanket, some flannels for changing her, a nightdress and two day dresses. A paper had been pinned to the gown she’d worn, with a letter written on the front and feeding instructions on the back.
After reading the thing at least twenty times, Jake didn’t have to pull the paper out of his trouser pocket and look at it to recall the words.
I am a poor friendless woman dying in a strange town. I have no close family or husband and I noticed your kindness to a lost little boy in town. The only way I can bear to part from this life is to leave my Molly with you, not at a baby asylum or foundling hospital. You seem the kind of man who would not let a child starve or be sold. She will be a year old on October 7. I leave her in your care and pray God will forgive me.
The mother had chosen him. Who the hell was she? Had he seen her and not noticed? Her words made him feel responsible for the baby, responsible for yet another person, and Jake didn’t like it.
But he knew how it felt to be abandoned and he wouldn’t do that to anyone. He’d advertised for the right family, but in the meantime, the kid was stuck here. The baby’s crying didn’t stop even though he held her. The throb in his head worked down his neck. He had to find a baby nurse and double fast.
Miz Halvorson’s gray hair was pulled into a bun so tight it made her scarecrow-thin features look even more stern. She stared haughtily at him as he tried to find a position for the baby that wasn’t awkward.
“She’ll never learn to stop that if you give in to her.”
From the corner of his eye, Jake saw Georgia look up from her chair with a frown. His gaze leveled on the older woman. “Are you saying we should let her cry?”
“Unless you teach her how to behave, she’ll never learn to settle down,” the woman said in a tone that clearly intimated he was witless. “She’ll cry every time she wants something.”
Letting her cry sounded mean to Jake. From the tight line of his cousin’s lips, he could tell she felt the same.
“Well, she can’t talk!” Jake carefully settled the kid into Georgia’s good arm, understanding her look that said she didn’t like Miz Halvorson any better than he did. “How else is she supposed to tell anybody what she wants?”
The woman started to say something, only to be interupted by a knock on the door. Jake hoped it was another applicant. There had to be someone better than Miz Halvorson.
Baby Molly cried louder and Georgia patted her back with her unwithered hand, just as she had been doing when the baby had finally given out last night from sheer exhaustion. But this time it wasn’t working. The knock came again and Jake started across the planked pine floor toward the heavy front door. “Thanks for coming out, Miz Halvorson. We’ll let you know if we have any further questions.”
She huffed, following him.
“Goodbye, ma’am.” He opened the door and got his first pleasant surprise in more than two days.
Framed in the soft amber light of the setting sun was a young woman. Her brown hair was up and she wore spectacles. She was petite and a trifle skinny, but she had skin like cream. Lady, please open that pretty mouth and tell me you’ve come about the ad. Unless she was lost, she had to be here for that. He hadn’t had a woman at the Circle R since Delia had passed. Neither had his uncle or brother or the ranch hands.
“I’ve come about the ad—” She broke off, looking stricken as her solemn gaze landed on the British woman. “Have you already filled the position?”
“Not yet,” Jake said quickly.
Miz Halvorson swept past him and out the door, then stopped to say in a low voice to the new arrival, “They don’t know anything about raising children and don’t believe in discipline.”
Holding on to the porch railing, she stepped onto the ground and stomped to her buggy, which sat between the house and barn. The younger woman turned to Jake with uncertainty on her face.
He noted slender curves beneath a blue-gingham bodice and bustled skirt. “I’m Jake Ross. Come in, Miz…”
“York. Emma York.” She cast one last look over her shoulder at the departing Miz Halvorson, then stepped inside, watching carefully as he shut the door.
As she followed him to the center of the room, her gaze went to the baby. Molly still fussed and Georgia bounced her gently on her shoulder. Jake gestured to the woman with dark, silver-threaded hair. “This is my cousin, Georgia Ross.”
Georgia rose and nodded, since she was unable to extend her hand. “Hello.”
Jake gestured to the deer-hide sofa, special made to accommodate any of the Ross men stretched out full-length. “Please have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand, if—if that’s all right,” she said softly, as if afraid he might take exception.
“Of course.” He backed up against the sofa and eased down. She was a pretty thing, with more of a fullness to her breasts than he’d originally thought. And, behind those spectacles, he could tell she had green eyes. Pretty green eyes.
Though, it would suit him just fine if Emma York were ugly. He hadn’t noticed much about a woman’s looks since his wife had died five years ago.
From her spot in front of the fireplace, Georgia asked, “What’s your feeling about babies crying?”
“Ma’am?” Miz York glanced from the woman to Jake, looking confused.
“Before you got here,” he said, “Miz Halvorson was giving us her views on what to do when a baby cries. What would you do?”
Emma York’s fingers twined in the folds of her skirt. “I’d check to see if something was wrong, if she was hungry or needed to be changed.”
The baby twisted and squirmed in Georgia’s arms, and she spoke in a low voice, trying to calm the child.
“And you’d pick her up?” Georgia prompted.
“I imagine so.” She searched Jake’s face as if trying to guess the answer he wanted.
Still wiggling, the baby cried out. “I guess since you found your way here, you know this is the Circle R,” Jake said. “Someone left this baby at our door last Friday night and, until I find a place for her to go, I need a nurse. Right up front I should tell you we also need a housekeeper, someone who’ll cook and clean. Ours was gone Saturday when we returned from Abilene.”
As if Jake’s biweekly visit to his brother-in-law weren’t hellish enough, he’d gotten home to find his housekeeper had taken off and left this baby with Georgia.
“I can do both,” Miz York said with quiet determination.
“Are you sure?” Jake thought she barely looked sturdy enough to fend for herself, much less another person. And cook for all of them.
Georgia gently bounced Molly on one arm. “I would do more, but as you can see, my left arm is crippled.”
“I’m sure I can do the job.” Understanding and compassion darkened her eyes before her anxious gaze settled on the child and softened. “If I may ask, why did your housekeeper leave?”
“She ran off and got married. I don’t think the baby had anything to do with her decision.” Jake tried to keep the tightness out of his voice. It wasn’t Miz York’s fault that Louisa had chosen to leave at the worst possible time. “I’ve advertised about getting a family for Molly. I don’t want to send her to Buckner Orphans Home in Dallas or anyplace like that.”
The baby’s face screwed up and turned red; she let out a scream and Jake moved away, wishing she’d be quiet.
Miz York frowned. “You’re planning to give her away again?”
Jake’s eyes narrowed at the words. Said that way, they sounded hard and ugly. He grunted, seeing no reason to answer to a woman who might soon be in his employ.
She seemed to realize her place and changed the subject. “What kind of food do you all like?”
“Biscuits, gravy, ham. Sweets.” So far, the lady didn’t seem put off. He spoke loudly enough to be heard above the baby’s cries. “Nothing too fancy, but something that sticks with you.”
“So you’d want me to cook and clean? Laundry, too?”
That wasn’t all he’d like. Surprise shot through him at the fleeting thought. He hadn’t wanted to do anything like that with a real lady, in years. Women didn’t distract him, even when he’d been a long time without one. There hadn’t been a woman since his wife, who had insinuated herself into his thoughts.
He jerked a thumb toward the squalling baby in his cousin’s arms. “Yes, and take care of her. We’ll give you room and board. You’d need to live at the ranch. Will that be a problem?”
She twined her fingers nervously and, for the first time, he saw the dull gold band on her left hand. He was stunned to feel a prick of disappointment. Why did he care? He wasn’t getting involved with her. Or any other woman, for that matter. “I guess you’ll want to talk to your husband about that, first.”
“No,” she said quickly, glancing at the distressed baby. “I mean, it won’t be necessary. He isn’t with me.”
Jake didn’t like the instant relief that jabbed at him. He also didn’t examine it. The baby lurched toward him and he took her reluctantly. Her sobs grew louder as she twisted to look at Miz York. Jake juggled the infant from one shoulder to the other in an attempt to shush her.
“But your husband will be here?” Jake asked.
“I’m…I’m a widow.” She pulled her gaze from Molly, raising her voice to be heard over the child. “That’s why I need the work.”
He wanted to ask how her husband had died and how long she’d been alone, but those things had nothing to do with whether or not she could do this job. “Where you from?”
Her knuckles showed white as she gripped her purse strings tighter. “Up north.”
That could mean anywhere. “Up north?”
“Illinois.”
“And you wouldn’t have a problem living at the ranch?”
She glanced at the child as she pushed the spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “No.”
The baby jabbered something he couldn’t understand, trying to lunge out of his arms. “Whoa, there. You’re a slippery one.”
The woman stepped around the sofa and closed the distance between her and him, moving so quietly, with such still grace that the air didn’t seem to stir. Even her skirts didn’t make a sound against the floor. She held out her arms. “May I try?”
Jake didn’t need any urging. He did little more than lean toward the woman and Molly went willingly, looping her chubby arms around the lady’s neck and burying her face there. That kid hadn’t taken to anyone in his family like that. After a couple of gulping sobs, she drew in a deep shuddering breath then hiccuped. The sudden silence was startling.
“What the— How did you do that?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” She hugged the baby close, speaking to her in a low voice and looking…relieved? “What’s her name?”
“Molly.” Jake glanced over his shoulder at Georgia, who nodded. Yes. “Name your price.”
“Wh-What?”
He stepped forward. “You’re hired, Miz York.”
“But…you don’t even know if I can cook.” As the baby grabbed for her spectacles, the woman shifted the little girl to her other hip.
“I guess we don’t. So, can you cook?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re interested in the job? Caring for the kid, the house and cooking in exchange for room and board and a decent wage.” He named an amount he thought was fair.Judging by the flash of surprise in her eyes, so did she.
“That’s very generous.”
“I would ask if you have experience, but it’s plain that you do.”
She looked at him then at his cousin. “Are you just going to take my word that I can cook?”
“Yes,” Jake said, thinking how soft her hair looked. “You don’t strike me as someone who would misrepresent herself. Besides, I’m sure we’ll like your grub.”
Georgia murmured agreement. “And it will be nice to have another woman around.”
Miz York rubbed the baby’s back and he noted that her fingernails were short and ragged. “How many will I be cooking for?”
“Sometimes a couple of the hands might eat here at the house, but usually it’s just Georgia, my uncle Ike, my brother Bram and myself.”
After a moment, she nodded. “All right.”
He realized she hadn’t smiled once since she’d arrived. And, still, she was more pleasant than Miz Halvorson. “We need you to start pretty quick.”
“Now?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, good.” The relief he felt was mixed with an unidentifiable emotion. But the baby liked her and so did Georgia, whose spells of tiredness were getting more frequent. “Did you bring your luggage?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t have much.”
“I’ll fetch your things and Georgia can show you to your room.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze moved to his cousin.
“We’re glad to have you.” Georgia motioned for her to follow as she crossed the big room toward the dining area.
As Jake moved toward the front door, Emma asked, “Where will the baby sleep? With me?”
He stopped, frowning. “We hadn’t much considered that, but, if it’s okay with you, that would probably be best.”
“Oh, yes.” The tightness in her voice eased for the first time since her arrival. “That would be fine.”
Jake nodded, struck by the solemn look on her face. He watched her follow Georgia past one long side of the heavy dining table and stop in the doorway on the right.
“This is Louisa’s old room,” Georgia said. “You’ll be directly across from the kitchen.”
Miz York glanced over her shoulder, looking past the table and chairs to the room beyond.
“We sleep upstairs,” his cousin said. “You’ll want to take a look in the larder to see what you need.”
“Shall I cook tonight?”
“We’d be obliged.”
She nodded, stepping inside the room.
Jake noticed again how carefully she moved. Almost as if she could make herself become part of her surroundings.
That baby was quiet now and still stuck to the brunette like a cocklebur, her little eyes closing occasionally.
Jake’s gaze traveled slowly over the nurse, from her hair down the delicate line of her spine and gentle flare of her hips.
Impatient with himself, he turned for the door. He didn’t want to notice Emma York. All he wanted was to hire someone to care for the baby and he had.
Emma could barely keep from sinking to the floor in relief. She’d done it. She’d gotten the job.
The slightly plump older woman stepped aside so Emma could go into her new room.
“Take a minute to settle in and let us know if we can get you anything.” Her brown eyes were kind. “When you’re ready, you can have a look at the kitchen.”
“All right.”
“Would you like me to take the baby while you unpack?”
Emma could tell the other woman was tired and that had to affect the strength in her good arm. “That’s all right. We’ll need to start getting used to each other.”
Muted red light filtered into the room as the sun sank lower in the sky. This room had two glass-paned windows, one looking north and the other looking west. A large wardrobe covered the length of the west wall from the window to the corner. A wash stand with a cream pitcher and bowl sat on the opposite wall, a rocking chair between it and the north window. A blue, yellow and white quilt covered the bed that looked almost as fluffy as the one Emma had back home.
Jake Ross appeared in the doorway, holding her valise and small satchel, which he set just inside the door. “Is this all you have?”
She nodded.
“I’ll take care of your horse.”
“Thank you.” If either he or his cousin thought it odd that Emma had ridden rather than driven a buggy, they didn’t let on.
During the interview, she’d been too anxious to notice much more than Mr. Ross’s size, but it hit her now that he was handsome. He was the size of a mountain with pure black hair and eyes that were just as dark.
He pulled a piece of paper out of his trouser pocket. “Here’s the note that came with the baby. It says how old she is and what she can eat. And some things about her ma.”
“There were some flannels for changing her and a couple of dresses,” Georgia added.
Mr. Ross muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse. Did he not like the baby or was his dislike over the fact that someone had abandoned the child?
The little girl looked well and fit. Still balancing Molly on her left hip, Emma took the note with an unsteady hand and glanced at it.
Jake gestured toward the heavy bureau with two deep drawers along the bottom and a pair of doors that closed to conceal hanging clothes and shoes. “If you want, we can make one of those bottom drawers into a bed until the kid’s arrives. One of them would be plenty big enough for her.”
“You ordered her a bed?”
At the surprise in her voice, his gaze shot to hers. “Yes, in town today.”
The town he referred to was Whirlwind, a small community several miles west of Abilene where the stage had brought her. “She needs a place to sleep, after all.”
“Yes,” she murmured. How sweet.
“It was Georgia’s idea.”
Oh. “The drawer will do just fine. I can make a little pallet in there.”
“Looks like you’re set, then,” he said brusquely. He walked away and Georgia followed, smiling at Emma as she left.
Still holding the child, Emma shut the door then backed up against it, closing her eyes.
The baby gurgled, tugging on Emma’s lower lip. She opened her eyes and smiled. After shaking out the little girl’s blanket, she spread it on the floor and sat Molly there so she could watch Emma unpack.
The weight of the derringer in her skirt pocket provided a small sense of security. For the first time in the two weeks since she’d fled Kansas, Emma thought she might be able to escape the hell of home.
With the uncertainty of getting the job—this job—behind her, she suddenly felt light-headed. Clutching the night rail she’d just pulled from her valise, she sank down on the edge of the bed, her legs shaking.
Intending to be the only applicant, she’d gathered up every flyer Jake Ross and another man had posted in Whirlwind. Or thought she had. Finding that other woman here had nearly caused her to faint. If Miss Halvorson had gotten this job, Emma’s plan would’ve been ruined.
You don’t strike me as someone who would misrepresent herself.
Jake Ross’s words echoed in her head.
Misrepresent herself? Emma had flat-out lied. She wasn’t a widow. She’d never been married. Her last name wasn’t York; it was Douglas. And she wasn’t a baby nurse.
She was Molly’s half sister and she was the one who had left the baby at the rancher’s door.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Emma stood just inside the kitchen door and tried not to bite her nails. It was a bad habit she had thought broken long ago, but she’d had to stop herself more than once last night, too. And during the days before she’d been hired and fretted about what Jake Ross would do with Molly; about what she herself had done with the baby.
The Ross family sat at the large dining table, Jake on the end closest to her, his brother opposite him. His uncle sat between them with his back to her and Georgia sat across the table. Behind Jake, the pink of early morning light filtered through the large glass-paned window that looked into the dining room and front room to the staircase beyond.
The men wolfed down the eggs, biscuits and ham Emma had set out so she took that to mean they liked the food all right. But they ate breakfast as fast as they had eaten supper. The meal could’ve been boots and gravy, and she doubted they would’ve noticed.
Last night she had dreamed that Jake Ross had changed his mind about hiring her. That he’d found out nearly everything she’d told him was a lie.
Just because he acted as if things were fine this morning, she’d lived long enough with her stepfather to know that a man’s temper was as unpredictable as a twister and could come up just as fast.
So she watched her new employer carefully, looking for a sign, a change in his temperament that so far seemed quiet and even. If she had to leave in order to protect Molly, she would. While it would be inconvenient, it wouldn’t pain her. Certainly not like what had happened two weeks ago when she had found their mother dead. Murdered.
Emma had no proof, had witnessed nothing, but she knew it was murder. And she knew who’d done it. Her stepfather had abused her mother since their marriage two years ago, especially when Nola had put herself between his fists and Emma. When Nola became pregnant with Molly, she knew she had to get the baby and Emma away from Orson. Despite endless threats from Orson to use any means necessary to stop his wife from leaving him, Emma’s mother had prepared, anyway.
After Molly turned six months old, Emma and her mother began to carefully make plans to leave Topeka and Emma’s stepfather. A month ago, he found a stash of money and assumed, rightly, that his wife intended to use it for her and her daughters’ escape.
Orson Douglas didn’t take any action at the time. Probably due to the risk that, just before an election, he might have to answer questions about what had happened to his wife and eight-month-old baby. Most people admired the politician, looked up to him. But not his stepdaughter. Senator Orson Douglas scared Emma witless.
And one afternoon two weeks later, she returned from the seamstress in Topeka and found her mother dead. Mama lay in her bed with Orson standing over her crying that it must have happened because Nola had taken too much of the laudanum she used for relief from a back injury due to a recent fall. A fall caused by her husband.
Horrified and frightened, Emma’d managed to give away nothing, but she knew Orson Douglas had killed his wife. And she knew what Nola would want her to do. Two days later, as people filled their grand house after the funeral, Emma had used the excuse of putting her half sister down for a nap, then had slipped out with the child.
Jake Ross turned his head then, his black gaze locking on her. She straightened, her fingers curling in the hem of the worn white apron she’d found.
His uncle Ike, as tall as Jake and lanky, picked up his cup of coffee as he looked over his shoulder. “We sure lucked out when Jake found you, Miz York.”
She doubted he would think so if he knew she’d found them. After reaching Abilene by train, she had seen Jake Ross there. Emma would’ve noticed him, anyway, because of his size and rugged good looks, but what had her deciding he was right for Molly was the patience and kindness he’d shown a lost little boy. No one else had paid a whit of attention to the child except to order him out of the way, but Jake had helped him find his mother.
Emma had included that in the note, hoping the mention of it would make the rancher less inclined to send Molly somewhere else. “So everything’s to your liking?”
“Everything’s wonderful.” Ike nodded.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bram declared.
“Especially the coffee.” Georgia smiled.
The older woman had told Emma that Bram and Jake had been raised by their uncle. Though both were dark haired and strapping, Bram’s eyes were blue rather than black like Jake’s.
Jake glanced over, making her stomach flutter the way it had when she’d first seen him last evening.
“Yeah, the coffee’s real good,” he said gruffly.
Bram took another biscuit, split it and slathered butter on it. “These biscuits are better than Pearl’s.”
At her frown, Jake explained, “She’s a lady in Whirlwind who owns the Pearl Restaurant.”
The relief that moved through Emma was so strong it made her chest ache. Thank goodness they liked the food.
The elder Ross squinted at her. “Did you sleep all right?”
“Yes, very well.”
“And the baby?” Georgia asked. “Did she keep you awake?”
“No. She slept, too.”
Her employer looked surprised, but said nothing.
“Is she up yet?” Bram asked.
“Yes.” She inclined her head toward the kitchen. “She’s in there.”
“She sure is quiet,” he said.
“She’s a good baby,” Emma said mildly.
“So she hasn’t scared you off yet?” Jake’s voice was flat.
“No, not at all.” The way everyone’s gazes went to him then immediately skipped away had her wondering again if he disliked the baby. “I was going to make flapjacks, but wasn’t sure how many.”
“None for me.” Bram grinned, reaching for the platter of biscuits and bacon. “I’ve got all the food I need right here.”
“What he’s got is plenty for everyone, Miz York,” Ike said dryly.
Jake said nothing.
She smiled. “All right, then.”
“Aren’t you going to join us?” Georgia patted the empty place next to her.
The invitation took Emma by surprise. If circumstances had been different, she would’ve liked getting to know them, making friends, but leaving was going to be hard enough when the time came. She should do her job and keep to herself. “Thank you, but I’ve eaten.”
“I’ll share the biscuits with you,” Bram cajoled with a charming grin that revealed a deep set of dimples.
Aware of the sharp look Jake threw him, she turned for the kitchen. Mr. Ross obviously didn’t like his family being friendly with the help, which was fine with Emma. “If you’re sure you don’t want the flapjacks, I’ll start cleaning the dishes and I’ll bring more coffee.”
“But—” Bram began.
She fetched the coffee then returned, using the skirt of her apron to hold the hot handle. After pouring a cup for the elder Ross, she moved to Jake.
He passed her his cup and when she returned it to him, their fingers brushed. She pulled away quickly.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
Her gaze caught on his and she felt heat creep into her cheeks. She stepped behind Ike to go to Bram, wishing she weren’t so aware of the way Jake’s pale gray shirt molded shoulders that were as wide as the door. Of his dark hair and black eyes. He was handsome in a rugged, rough way that made a woman think he could protect her. Well, Emma knew better than to trust such sentiments.
As she moved around the table to Georgia, he didn’t look at her. And yet she felt his attention on her. Weighing, considering. Her guard immediately went up. She wished she could disappear.
As she stepped into the kitchen, she surreptitiously cast one more glance over her shoulder and her gaze crashed into his.
Their new housekeeper acted nervous, Jake thought. Because of him? He didn’t mean to make her nervous, but, well, he couldn’t stop looking at her.
Bram looked at Jake. “She acted worried that we wouldn’t like her cooking.”
“I think she was.”
“She’s every bit as good a cook as Louisa. Don’t scare her off.”
Jake glared at his brother and shoved a biscuit in his mouth. Something about Emma York compelled his attention and it wasn’t that she was taking care of that kid. He’d woken several times last night thinking about her. Not hot, sweaty-type thoughts, but curious, bothered-type thoughts.
He’d decided that was on account of all the alcohol working its way out of his system. He drank to forget and she was a much more pleasant image to contemplate than the reason he’d been drinking. Quentin. Thoughts of his brother-in-law—former brother-in-law—made Jake angry and uncomfortable and chute crazy. The quicker he finished breakfast, the sooner he could get some space.
Under the table, something grabbed the left leg of his jeans, startling him out of his thoughts. He registered a tiny hand just in time to stop himself from shoving his chair back. Knowing what he would find and knowing it was inevitable that he would sometimes have to be around her, he bent and looked under the table.
The baby stared back at him with big gray-green eyes. She grinned, revealing two teeth. Clutching his knee, she pulled herself to her feet.
Dammit.
“What is it? The baby?” Bram ducked his head to get a look.
Jake wanted out of this chair right now, but, if he rose, the baby would fall. She took a lurching step forward into the vee between his legs and latched on to him to keep her balance. One chubby little hand hit his thigh, the other one his man parts.
He didn’t want to hold her, but he didn’t want her looking at him with those big eyes, either. Easing his chair back, he sent a pleading look to his brother, who was occupied with scraping his plate clean.
Jake picked her up, holding her stiffly out in front of him. He had every intention of handing her off to Georgia or his uncle when Molly grabbed his face between her hands and jabbered something. Her sweet baby scent drifted around him, pricking at memories he kept ruthlessly tucked away.
Sheer reflex had him surging to his feet and thrusting her toward Ike. Before the older man could take her, Miz York eased the baby out of his hold.
“I’m sorry.” She sent Jake an apologetic look. “I didn’t know she’d gotten away from me.”
Heat searing his nerves, he stepped behind his chair, putting some distance between them. The knowing look in his uncle’s eyes had him dragging a hand across his nape.
Puzzlement slid across the nurse’s fine-boned features.
“We don’t know much about babies—” Bram stood, drawing her attention “—but we like ’em.”
Her uncertain gaze darted to Jake then fixed on his brother. “I’ll try to keep her out of your way.”
“She’s not in our way,” Ike said jovially as he rose from his chair. “We like having her around.”
Jake caught the flash of skepticism on Emma York’s face and knew he should try to reassure her, but he couldn’t do it. Her light soap scent joined with the baby’s and he felt as if his chest were being crushed.
“We didn’t hire you so you’d keep her away from us,” Ike said. “We just need some help taking care of her.”
Jake wanted to say he had definitely hired Miz York to keep the baby away from him. That he was the one who made the final decisions around here, but he wasn’t. And he didn’t want to be responsible for that baby. Fine with him if Uncle Ike wanted to raise the orphan the same way he’d raised his nephews. That didn’t mean Jake had to.
“It’s just that some of us are better with little ones than others of us are,” Bram explained.
Miz York nodded, her face pale as she cuddled the baby.
“That was an excellent breakfast, Miz York.” Georgia folded her napkin and set it beside her plate.
“Yes. If we don’t watch it,” her father said, “you’ll have us all fatter than peach-orchard boars in no time.”
Her lips curved in the closest thing to a real smile that Jake had seen since she’d arrived. “Thank you.”
The way her face lit up put a strange tightness in Jake’s chest. But, when her gaze shifted to him, her smile faded and a wariness moved into her eyes. She turned and walked into the kitchen.
Dammit. Compelled to make an effort at reassuring her, he asked, “Is there anything we can do for you before we leave? Anything you need?”
Her voice drifted from the kitchen. “I need to do the laundry. If you could just show me the washtub—”
“We’ll haul the water for you,” Bram volunteered.
“And start the fire,” Jake added.
Coming back to the doorway with the baby on her hip, she looked at Bram, not Jake. “Thank you, but—”
“I’ll get the basket Louisa used to carry the laundry.” His brother went into a small alcove between the housekeeper’s room and the outside wall, returning with a large round basket. After setting it in Jake’s chair, he moved toward the door. “That was a fine meal, Miz York.”
“I’ll start the fire on my way out,” Jake said.
“That’s not necessary,” she said stiffly. “You did hire me to do the job, after all.”
He looked at her. Did they all make her uncomfortable or was it just him? “It won’t take a minute for me to get it burning.”
“I can do it.”
“We can gather up our clothes for you,” Bram insisted.
“I’m supposed to be here to help you—” she looked ill at ease “—not the other way around.”
“All right.” Bram grinned. “You can gather the clothes, but we’ll haul the tubs and the water.”
“And rig up the clothesline,” Ike added.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, though she acted more uneasy than pleased about it.
Bram went outside and Jake started to follow. Now that he was getting some space from her, he could breathe just fine. “We’ll be riding in the west pasture today. If you need anything, for any reason, there’s a gun behind the front door. And there’s a bell hanging right outside the kitchen door and the barn. We can hear both for quite a ways.”
“Do you expect trouble?” Her eyes went wide with worry.
“No, not at all. But we’re not expecting visitors, either.” He’d mentioned the weapon and the bell to reassure her, but it obviously hadn’t. “I wanted you to know about the gun for protection and how to signal us if you needed to.”
“All right, thank you.” She studied him as if she were trying to determine how he was put together.
“Is there anything particular you’d like for supper?” she asked tentatively.
“Whatever you fix will be fine.” He needed to get outside, now. “If we get held up, don’t wait on us. You and Georgia eat while it’s hot.”
She nodded as Georgia came around the table. Emma and his cousin followed him to the door, and Jake could feel the nurse’s anxious gaze locked on him.
Just looking at her pale face made his chest tight. That baby and Emma York made him feel responsible for their welfare. The minute he’d seen the brunette, something inside him had gone still. He didn’t know why. He didn’t care to know.
He was sick to death of feeling responsible for everyone, dead and alive. He’d done the right thing by not dumping that baby on someone else, done the right thing by hiring Emma York. He didn’t need to do anything else, but, for some reason, right didn’t seem like enough this time.
Jake Ross had buzzed in Emma’s thoughts all day like a pesky insect. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the hard look on his face when he’d held Molly that morning at breakfast or because of the quiet way he had studied Emma. As if he knew more than she’d told him. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen him again today. He and the two other men hadn’t returned until late tonight, well after supper and after Emma had gone to bed.
Now it was past midnight and she stood in the kitchen over the stove. Soft amber light from the lone kerosene lamp behind her pooled on the floor. Molly had been fussy since supper and nothing Emma did had helped. She had finally decided the little girl’s stomach hurt and come to the kitchen to make the onion tea that her mother had sworn was the best remedy for upset tummies or a mixed-up sleeping schedule.
As she added another pinch of finely chopped onion to the heating water, Emma couldn’t help recalling the look on Jake Ross’s face this morning when he’d picked up her sister. It hadn’t been disgust or blatant dislike, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it had been. Did he dislike the baby? Everyone in his family had given him odd looks, but she hadn’t been able to decipher those, either.
Had she made a mistake by choosing him, by coming here? The rest of his family seemed to like the little girl just fine, but Emma wouldn’t leave her sister in a household where she wasn’t welcome by everyone. Still, Emma had no money to take her sister and go farther west. Until she did, she would have to stay here and try to help the Ross family become attached to Molly.
When the onion-and-water mixture began to boil, Emma turned to take a folded cloth from the long counter to her right. And gasped. Jake Ross stood in the doorway, wrapped in shadows. In the shift of gray light, she could see he was shirtless. His denims were unbuttoned and he held a gun. How long had he been standing there?
“Shh.” He put a finger to his lips, lamplight slanting across the strong angle of his jaw. “I heard something outside.”
She swallowed hard, nodding to let him know she’d keep quiet.
“I’m going to check. Don’t go anywhere.”
She couldn’t have moved, anyway. Her legs felt like water. He walked past her and silently opened the door on the opposite wall that led outside.
Emma’s heart thundered. He’d startled her, but that wasn’t why her pulse spiked. Gracious, the man was…impressive. His shoulders and chest were hard, solid muscle, only a shade lighter than his face and arms, making it obvious that he worked outside frequently without a shirt. Dark hair on his chest narrowed to a thin line below his navel.
As he went out the door, Emma stared. She couldn’t help it. She’d never seen a man’s bare back. Or bare chest. Or bare anything. One time, she’d seen her stepfather in shirtsleeves, but she’d never laid eyes on a half-naked man.
A funny feeling clenched her stomach. He looked so huge. Intimidating.
She wasn’t sure how long she waited. Realizing she was without her spectacles, Emma slipped them from the pocket of her wrapper and slid them on. Very carefully so as not to make any noise, she reached again for the cloth and lifted the boiling pot from the stove, setting it on the long counter.
After several minutes, the kitchen door opened and Jake moved back inside. He shook his head as he quietly closed the door. “Someone’s been out there, but they’re long gone. Found footprints, but no other sign.”
Though she cautioned herself not to jump to conclusions, Emma’s shoulders tensed up. There was no reason to think that whoever had been out there had been looking for her, but she couldn’t help it. There was no doubt her stepfather would’ve already assigned one of his men, probably Sharpton, to start searching for her and Molly. Orson wouldn’t risk hiring a reputable detective agency like the Pinkertons because he’d be afraid Emma would tell the lawmen about his violent behavior. And she would, if she had the chance. No, Orson had to be discreet and that meant sending one of his own men to find her and the baby.
She’d been so careful. He couldn’t have found them yet. Please, not yet.
“What do you think they wanted?” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake still at the outside door, his gaze riveted on her. Her hair. Could he tell that this nut-brown wasn’t her natural color? That it was a dye made from walnut leaves and husks?
It hit her then that her hair was down, plaited into a braid that lay over her shoulder and against her breast. That all she had on was her night rail and wrapper. That all he had on were…denims. His trousers were unbuttoned enough that she could tell the skin below his waistband was lighter than his chest, like the color of an acorn.
The night pulsed around them and Emma realized she was staring, too. She wrapped her arms around her waist. A muscle clenched in Jake’s jaw and he jerkily barred the door then moved past her, heading toward the dining room. The scent of man and soap and the outdoors teased her.
“There’s no telling what they wanted.” He turned in the doorway. “All the livestock we put up in the barn were there and I didn’t hear any cattle bawling like they would be if someone had stirred them up.”
She heard his words, tried to pay attention to what he said. But what she was thinking was what beautiful eyes he had and how, in the softer light, his mouth didn’t seem harsh at all.
“Could’ve just been someone passing through, but I doubt it,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take another look in the morning when it’s light out.”
She nodded, fighting the urge to bite her nails. There was a fluttery sensation in her stomach that she didn’t understand. All because of him? She forced herself to look away from his chest, but she could feel his gaze traveling slowly down her body from her breasts to her bare toes peeking out from under her nightdress.
He cleared his throat. “What are you doing up? Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes. I’m making onion tea.” She eagerly latched on to the question. “The baby’s been fussy and I think she has a stomachache. My mother used to make onion tea for that.”
At the mention of her mother, unexpected tears burned Emma’s throat and she swallowed hard.
Something unreadable and raw flared in Jake’s dark eyes and she was swept with the sudden ridiculous urge to go to him.
He seemed to sense her upset or perhaps he could see it on her face. “You’re gonna give a baby tea made from an onion?”
The look of distaste on his face had her smiling. “I’ll add sugar. She’ll think it tastes good.”
“Will it really settle her stomach?”
She nodded. “Sometimes it’s also used to help babies with their sleeping schedule so they aren’t awake while everyone else is trying to sleep.”
“Sounds like you know your stuff.” He backed up a step. “No one’s out there so you don’t need to worry. But, if you need to use the privy in the middle of the night, you should take the rifle. It’s—”
“Behind the door, I know.” She smiled in an effort to reassure him, to get him to leave.
But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. “Yeah, behind the door,” he repeated in a raspy voice.
Something passed between them, something Emma had never felt for a man and it scared her. Hands shaking, she turned away and reached above the counter for a cup sitting on the shelf.
“Good night, then.”
“Good night.” She felt him leave, listened hard for the near-silent pad of his feet across the floor of the front room, then the slight creak of the stairs as he went up.
A breath shuddered out of her. She told herself she was shaking because someone had been outside. Someone who might’ve come for her, but Emma knew that wasn’t it at all.
It was because of Jake Ross. Oh, lands.
Stubbornly, she focused on adding a couple of teaspoons of sugar to the onion liquid. She was being fanciful. He’d startled her, first with his presence then by saying someone had been outside.
That was what it was. That was all it was. Still, she decided it would probably be wise to keep out of his way.
The next morning, Emma managed to stay clear of Jake Ross before and during breakfast, and finally he left with the other men for the day. On the back porch, Molly played with a doll Emma had fashioned from a piece of old linen. Emma gathered yesterday’s laundry from the clothesline a few feet away. It was strung between the porch and the henhouse. A roller wringer that squeezed water from clothes sat at the corner of the porch.
Georgia sat in a rocking chair, also keeping an eye on the baby as she shelled peas with one hand. Emma was amazed how much the other woman could do with just one hand and how well she did it. The climate was arid here, just like back in Kansas, although hotter. The breeze came too infrequently, but she wasn’t nearly as hot today as she had been yesterday while doing the wash.
Pushing her spectacles up for the tenth time, she gathered clothes, folding them and putting them into the basket Bram had fetched for her yesterday. Emma’s thoughts seemed stuck on Jake Ross. Just because she hadn’t spoken to him this morning didn’t mean she was unaware of him.
After seeing him half-dressed last night, Emma didn’t think she would ever be unaware of him. Just the memory of his hard, bare chest was enough to make her stomach dip. She hadn’t been able to look at him while serving breakfast and, thankfully, he hadn’t seemed inclined to look at her, although she felt a carefulness in his manner that made her think he remembered last night, too.
The look he’d given her, almost reluctantly it seemed, had been heated and hungry. Her skin had gone tight. No man had ever affected her that way. Emma might not have much experience with men or flirting, but she knew what happened between men and women. Her mother had told her during those weeks her stepfather had pressed her to marry Albert Crocker.
Albert had tried to kiss her once and she had pulled away. He’d been angry enough to raise his hand to her, though he hadn’t hit her. She’d refused the railroad baron’s son, not because she feared sharing his bed, but because Albert seemed to be as cruel as her stepfather. And her refusal had earned the burn scars on her back, one of the few times her mother had been unable to shield her from Orson Douglas’s wrath.
Jake Ross was a big man, with big hands, like her stepfather. Maybe it was those things that made her nervous rather than some annoying awareness of him. Emma reached the end of the clothesline and pulled down the last sheet. After giving it a snap, she folded it.
As she bent down to place the linen on top of the other laundry, she got the sense she had missed something. She hadn’t been paying strict attention to her task so she wasn’t sure. She knelt and dug through the pile of clothes that would need to be ironed. She couldn’t find her corset. Even though she knew she’d taken everything from the clothesline, she looked over her shoulder.
It wasn’t there. She was positive she’d washed it and hung it out to dry because she didn’t have it on beneath her gray work dress. And it was the only one she’d brought. Four days of hard riding to Baxter Springs to catch the train through Indian Territory into Texas had required that she and Molly travel light.
Getting a funny feeling in her stomach, Emma looked through the basket again, but didn’t find it. She stood, walking the length of the clothesline. Maybe it had blown away? But, if so, why hadn’t anything else? There were several things lighter than her stays and they had all managed to remain on the line.
“Emma, I’m taking in these peas,” Georgia called as she rose from the rocking chair. “Would you like me to get you anything?”
“No, thank you.” She thought about asking Georgia if she’d taken the corset, but why on earth would the other woman take it? Why would anyone? Besides, she and the other woman were nowhere close in size.
Emma was the one who’d been out here with the wash, yesterday and today. She was the one who should know whether or not she had everything. Last night, her employer had heard a noise. Could it have been a thief? A thief who’d stolen a corset? That was ridiculous. Emma couldn’t even fathom it.
A quick glance showed that Molly was still playing happily on her blanket, so Emma turned and walked the length of the clothesline again. She went into the henhouse, thinking that perhaps the undergarment had fallen and one of the birds had taken it. To use for a nest maybe? But, aside from straw, feathers and the eye-watering smell of ammonia, she found nothing.
Growing more perplexed and a little irritated, she came out, latching the door behind her. Keeping the baby in sight, Emma searched the side of the house, under the porch, shaded her eyes to look out over the knee-high golden-green prairie grass. She saw nothing. She had to find it. It was the only one she had. She couldn’t go around without a corset. It was improper, immodest. Brazen.
Reaching the porch, she grabbed the basket and set it in the rocking chair to dig through the pile of laundry again. Her search yielded nothing. Maybe a wild animal had taken off with it. Knowing that she might not find it made her suddenly, uncomfortably aware of her skin against the soft cotton of her chemise, the unbound freedom of her breasts. And that brought back the reminder of how Jake Ross had seen her in nothing but her nightclothes. How he’d looked at her. Oh, goodness. She had to find her corset.
She stepped off the porch, intent on searching every inch of ground. She circled the henhouse, made a wide sweep through the prairie grass behind it, but found nothing.
Muttering under her breath, she spun toward the house and came to a complete stop. Jake Ross stood at the corner of the porch with his head tilted and a quizzical look on his face. His holster hung low on his hips. How long had he been there? Good lands, he was a quiet-moving man. Heat flamed her cheeks. “You startled me.”
“Sorry. My horse threw a shoe so I came back for another one. Thought I heard someone back here. Is everything all right, Miz York?”
“Yes, certainly.” She adjusted her glasses.
His black eyes narrowed slightly. “You sure? You seem bothered.”
It would bother her more if she had to tell him. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t have to, did she? Nothing of his had been taken.
“You lose something?”
“No.” That wasn’t a lie. She knew exactly where she’d put it. It just wasn’t there.
He took a few steps toward her, his cowboy hat shading his eyes. “Is something missing?”
Why did he have to be back, anyway? she thought grumpily. Yesterday, he’d stayed gone until after dark.
He frowned. “Seeing as how I heard a noise out here last night, I’m starting to get concerned.”
And her not answering his questions was only making him more determined. “Did… Did you take anything off the clothesline last night or this morning?”
“Did someone make off with the laundry? If any of my property’s gone, Miz York, you’d best tell me.”
She shifted from one foot to the other. If she had another corset, she wouldn’t say anything about it. But she didn’t have another one. And she felt half-naked right now standing here talking to him without it.
“Listen, lady.” He took a step toward her, his gaze leveling into hers. “We had some outlaws making merry around Whirlwind not a year ago. They were known to steal clothes off lines—”
“Something’s gone, yes, but it isn’t yours.”
“Then whose? Yours?”
Embarrassment seared every inch of her, but she nodded.
“What’s gone?” Before she could answer, a slow awareness lit his eyes and his gaze slowly lowered to her breasts before returning to her face. His compelling features cautious, he cleared his throat, gesturing in her general direction. “Is it your…um, an undergarment?”
Before she could stop herself, her surprised gaze flew to his then away. How had he guessed that? She didn’t know what she would wear until she got another corset, but she would have to figure out something. She certainly had no money to buy one right now. Georgia might be willing to lend her one, but it would be too big. Even laced as tight as it would go.
Face burning, she started for the porch. His long legs covered the distance between them in two steps and he blocked her way. She stopped abruptly, stiffening.
“Miz York, I know it vexes you to talk about this. It sure as hell isn’t what I want to talk about, but you need to tell me.”
“I—I can’t.” She kept her gaze on his dusty boots.
For a moment, he didn’t speak, then he said in a gruff voice, “I sometimes serve as a deputy for the sheriff in Whirlwind.”
Emma’s stomach plummeted. A deputy? She thought she’d been so careful to avoid the law and now she was living with a sometime-lawman. What had she done?
This wasn’t the place for Molly. No, Emma corrected, quickly calming herself. It wasn’t the place for her, but it might be good for her sister. Mr. Ross’s being a lawman would be perfect for Molly.
“Over the last few months, there’s been a rash of thefts,” he said. “Farm equipment, jewelry, tools. And, lately, some things have been stolen off clotheslines. Women’s…things. Corsets.”
The word sounded rough on his tongue and a shiver rippled up her spine. Could he tell she wasn’t wearing one? She couldn’t bear the thought.
“Several women have had their…those stolen. I don’t know if the thefts are being committed by the same person, but you need to tell the sheriff.”
“Oh, no!” Her gaze flew to his. “I couldn’t! I can’t.”
It wasn’t just the humiliation of telling another man that her corset had been stolen. It was also that she needed to stay as far from Whirlwind’s sheriff as possible. If her stepfather or one of his men showed up looking for her, the sheriff would be their first stop.
Jake Ross studied the ground then glanced up. “I know it’s embarrassing for you, but we need to tell Davis Lee.” At her frown, he added, “Sheriff Holt.”
She could see he wasn’t going to let this go.
“He needs to know there’s been another theft.”
And now that Jake Ross knew, Emma would suffer anxiety every time she saw him.
She couldn’t believe she was discussing undergarments with a man. A man she’d just met. To whom she’d been lying since setting foot on his doorstep.
“Davis Lee’s discreet. You won’t need to worry about anyone finding out.”
That was slightly reassuring. “Has this happened before?”
“Not out here!”
“Are you going to tell—”
“I won’t say anything,” he said quickly. “To anyone.”
She believed him. “Thank you.”
After a moment, he said, “We should probably go today.”
We? “I’m sure I can manage the trip. I rode out here alone, after all.”
His eyes flashed hotly. “You’re not going alone. I don’t know where that thief is or if he’ll do something besides steal a woman’s—” He shifted uncomfortably as if his boots were too small. “I’m not sure if he’d do something more dangerous than steal.”
“But—”
“I’ll have the wagon ready after lunch.”
She nodded, knowing she couldn’t protest further. He’d certainly start to wonder why she was hesitant to face the sheriff. Drat it all!
He moved aside so she could step onto the porch. She bent to pick up the baby, aware that behind her he headed toward the clothesline.
As if it weren’t nerve-racking enough to talk to the sheriff, now she’d have to spend the rest of the day with Jake Ross.
Chapter Three
They reached town a couple of hours after lunch. Being without her corset made Emma uneasy enough, but the possibility that Whirlwind’s sheriff might have already gotten information on her had her palms sweating and a hard lump wedging under her ribs. Mr. Ross guided the wagon down Whirlwind’s wide Main Street and reined to a stop in front of a weathered pine building. Several steps led up to a door with a sign hanging overhead that said Jail. She did not want to go in there.
Their ride had been mostly silent, broken occasionally by some polite, inconsequential talk that Emma felt both of them thought awkward. And, of course, none of it had been about the baby. Jake Ross appeared not to know Molly was even there.
The impression Emma had of the small West Texas town was that of a dusty, but neat community. The jail sat between the Pearl Restaurant, which Mr. Ross had told her about yesterday, and the blacksmithy. A hammer struck metal and Emma glanced over to see a large black man inside a frame shop working over an anvil. He nodded politely, and she nodded back.
The low rumble of people’s voices was broken by the clop of horses’ hooves. She managed to get down out of the wagon and pick up the baby from the seat before Mr. Ross rounded the horse. Across the street behind her, she noted Haskell’s General Store, a livery and a saloon.
She mounted the steps with her employer, pushing the glasses up her nose and tightening her hold on Molly. Despite the late August heat, Emma had worn a light shawl in an effort to make it less noticeable that she wasn’t wearing a corset.
Mr. Ross opened the door then followed her inside. The smells of pine and soap mixed with the clean male scent of the man who’d insisted she come. A handsome dark-haired man wearing a badge rose from behind a wide oak desk. A glass-front cabinet behind him held four shotguns. The lawman gave her a friendly smile, his blue eyes twinkling. “Howdy, ma’am. Jake.”
“Davis Lee Holt.” Mr. Ross took off his hat, gesturing toward Emma. “This is Miz York. She’s the lady we hired to care for the baby.”
“Miz York.” The sheriff smiled at Molly, who turned her head shyly into Emma’s neck.
The man seemed friendly and not the least suspicious, but that didn’t ease the tightness across Emma’s chest. Or keep her from mentally checking the derringer in her skirt pocket. On the wall behind him hung two Wanted posters and a notice about a circuit judge. Nothing about a runaway or kidnapped daughter. Which didn’t mean the sheriff was ignorant about her, just that there was nothing on that wall. Being on her guard, almost paranoid, was becoming second nature.
“Little Molly looks good.”
Emma wondered how the sheriff knew the child’s name, then recalled that Jake Ross had stopped by the jail the day he and his uncle had brought Molly to town to post flyers advertising for the position of baby nurse.
The rancher stepped up beside Emma, his big body surrounding her like a wall, close enough that she could feel the sun’s heat from his shirt. She wished this were over, wished she’d never had to come. If Mr. Ross hadn’t found her searching for her corset, she wouldn’t have mentioned a thing about it.
“What brings you two to town today?” The sheriff, who was two or three inches taller than the other man, eased down on the corner of his desk.
Mr. Ross glanced at Emma and said in a low voice, “If you’d rather speak to the sheriff alone, I can wait outside.”
“No,” she said quickly. The thought of him leaving her alone in the jail tied her stomach in a knot. Which just went to show how nervous she was about being face-to-face with the sheriff if she felt safer with Mr. Ross staying in here.
The baby grabbed at Emma’s glasses, yanking them across her nose. She pulled her half sister’s hand away, trying to decide how to delicately report what had been stolen.
Mr. Ross didn’t wait on her. “There was a theft at my ranch last night. One of those thefts.”
The sheriff politely kept his gaze on the rancher, but Emma was aware that the lawman’s attention sharpened. “Same piece as what was taken a week or so ago?”
“Yes.”
Heat flushed Emma’s cheeks and she held Molly tighter to her breasts, feeling practically naked.
Behind her, the door flew open and a feminine voice exclaimed, “Davis Lee, there’s been another one! Oh.”
A broad grin spread across the sheriff’s face. “Hello, wife.”
Emma looked over her shoulder to see a petite brunette move into the room beaming at Sheriff Holt. She tore her gaze from him to look at Mr. Ross. “Hello, Jake.”
“Miz Josie.”
Her warm green gaze lit on Emma and she stuck out a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Josie Holt.”
“Emma York.” She shook hands, thinking she would probably like the sheriff’s wife if given a chance to know her.
“Oh, I should’ve been quicker with an introduction,” Mr. Ross apologized.
“It’s all right.” The other woman smiled then looked at her husband. “I’m sorry. I can see I’ve interrupted.”
He nodded, an indulgent and amused look on his handsome features. As his wife reached out to touch Molly’s blond hair, a look of painful longing flitted across her pretty features. “What a darling baby. This is the little girl someone left at your house, Jake?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said stiffly.
It didn’t escape Emma’s notice that his voice had changed the instant the baby was mentioned. Nor did she miss the fleeting glances that both the sheriff and his wife gave the man, looks that appeared to be compassion. Emma turned her head to prevent the baby from grabbing her spectacles. If anyone should get their compassion, it should be Molly, especially if the man who’d taken her in didn’t want her.
“Hi there, little one.” Josie Holt bent, looking into the baby’s eyes as she stroked her cheek. “Would you let me hold you?”
Emma didn’t think her half sister would go, but, when the sheriff’s wife opened her arms, Molly studied her soberly then went. Without her sibling’s tiny body covering her chest, Emma felt it was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a corset. She drew the light shawl tighter around herself and made herself very still, the way she did when her stepfather went into one of his tempers.
“Aren’t you a beauty?” Josie murmured, fingering Molly’s fine blond curls. Her voice cracked. “Isn’t she pretty, Davis Lee?”
“Yes.” His gaze touched briefly on the child, then riveted on his wife, and the tender look on his face had Emma’s heart clenching.
Molly grasped a button on Mrs. Holt’s blue gingham bodice and the woman touched the baby’s nose. “You did just fine by finding yourself at Jake’s, little one.”
Emma wondered if the woman would still think so if she knew how quickly the rancher had removed himself from the baby yesterday morning. The sheriff’s wife brushed a light kiss against Molly’s temple before returning her to Emma. From the corner of her eye, Emma could tell that Jake Ross was looking away.
Josie walked over to her husband and said in a low voice, “When you’re finished, would you come to the shop? There’s been another one.”
Beside Emma, her employer snapped to attention. “Beggin’your pardon, Miz Josie, but do you mean another theft? Of…you know?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Emma caught the look Mr. Ross shared with Sheriff Holt, who reached out and took his wife’s hand. “I’ll come as soon as I’ve finished talking to Miz York.”
It was a bit of a relief to know that Mrs. Holt had also been a victim of the embarrassing theft. And, if Josie Holt stayed, maybe Emma wouldn’t have to say much.
“You may as well stay, Mrs. Holt,” she offered tentatively. “That’s why I’m here, too.”
“No!” Josie’s gaze shot to Emma and she whispered, “A…corset?”
The sheriff chuckled. “Honey, we can hear you.”
Smiling, she swatted at him, looking to Emma for an answer.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Last night?”
Emma nodded, adjusting her spectacles.
“Oh, my stars.” Josie clutched at her husband’s hand. “Davis Lee, you’ve got to do something. This can’t go on.”
“I’m doing the best I can, Josie. There are those other thefts I have to worry about, too.”
“I thought the only garments being stolen were ones I’d made, but this most recent theft—the two most recent thefts—those pieces weren’t made by me. You have to do something.”
The lawman looked at Emma. “When did you first notice it was gone?”
“A few hours ago.” So, Mrs. Holt was a seamstress. The sheriff’s blue gaze was steady and probing, making Emma feel he might know she didn’t need these glasses, that her eyesight was just fine.
The possibility that he might find out who she was, why she was in Whirlwind had her skin prickling. “I did the wash yesterday and left everything on the line to dry overnight.”
Mr. Ross’s deep voice rumbled out, “Late last night, I heard a noise outside, but when I looked around, I couldn’t find any sign of anyone. Didn’t realize then that Miz York’s cors—” A dull flush colored his neck. “That anything had been taken off the line.”
“What time was that?”
“I’d say just after midnight.”
“Was it one of your finer garments?” Josie asked Emma, her gaze lingering on the baby.
“Yes.”
Jake Ross didn’t look at Emma or do anything that might indicate he was thinking about their meeting half-dressed in the kitchen after midnight. But she felt a tension stretch between them and she knew he was thinking about it. Because she was.
Josie Holt nodded. “Pearl said hers was taken after dark last night. She discovered it when she went to the clothesline before bed.”
“Pearl Anderson owns the Pearl Restaurant,” Mr. Ross reminded Emma.
“Did she hear anything?” the sheriff asked his wife.
“She said no.”
Sheriff Holt rose and moved behind his desk, opening a drawer in the middle and pulling out a leather-covered book. He flipped through a couple of pages then glanced at his sometime-deputy. “You made note when the last theft like this was reported.”
“Yeah. It was Susannah’s.” Jake stepped around Emma to confer with the lawman. “If I recollect, it was just a little over a week ago.”
As the men discussed dates of the other thefts, Josie eased up to Emma and said quietly, “Susannah is married to Davis Lee’s brother.”
Emma nodded.
“If you need another dress corset, I want you to come by my shop and get one.”
Emma needed a corset, period. But she didn’t have the money to buy one.
The seamstress seemed to sense why she hesitated and said kindly, “I want to give it to you. This is no kind of welcome to a new town.”
Touched, Emma was speechless for a moment. The woman didn’t even know her. “I can’t, but thank you. Really.”
“You can put it on account.”
Emma couldn’t do that, either. What if she and Molly had to run in the middle of the night? Emma wouldn’t be able to pay on the account for a long while and that would be a reminder of her to these people. A reminder she couldn’t afford if her stepfather or his man came looking for her. “I can come in after I get my first wages.”
Josie looked as if she might insist, then smiled warmly. “All right then.”
Behind them, the door opened. Emma turned to see a tall, red-haired girl who looked to be a few years younger than her.
“Mrs. Holt,” the newcomer said. “I locked up the shop and I’m taking lunch to Zeke, if that’s all right.”
“Of course, Zoe. Thanks for letting me know.”
“I won’t be long.”
“All right.” Josie smiled. As the other woman backed out of the office and closed the door, Josie’s attention came back to Emma. “That’s Zoe Keeler. She works for me. Zeke is her younger brother.”
Emma nodded.
Closing the book, the sheriff said to the other man, “I’m gonna come out to the Circle R later on and look around.”
“I figured you would.”
Emma’s heartbeat sped up.
“Can you think of anything else that might be helpful?”
“No.” Her boss looked at Emma with the same question in his eyes.
“I don’t think so,” she said. She hoped the sheriff wouldn’t ask for a description of the garment.
“All right then.” Davis Lee looked thoughtful. “This is the first time this thief has struck twice in one night. I wonder why.”
“I wish he or she would quit it!” his wife burst out. “People are going to stop buying clothing from me.”
“Honey, they know it isn’t your fault.”
“Oh, fiddle, people don’t give a fig about whose fault it is.” She paced in front of her husband, her skirts swooshing against the wood floor. “They just know that things I make are being stolen and they won’t buy anything because they’re afraid it’ll be stolen, too.”
He chuckled, catching her hand and stilling her.
“I hope you’re wrong, Miz Josie,” Jake said. “Because that’s just plain silly.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled as he turned to open the door. “We’ll be on our way, then. See you later, Davis Lee.”
“Yeah.”
Emma said goodbye then preceded Mr. Ross out the door, noticing how the baby watched him. Emma glanced back before starting down the steps and saw the sheriff pull his wife into his lap. Taken by the sight, Emma paused.
Josie put her arms around her husband’s neck and laid her head on his shoulder. Davis Lee Holt was every bit as broad as Jake Ross and taller, but Josie Holt didn’t act one bit afraid of him. Emma wondered what it would be like to be that at ease with a man. Just one.
About halfway down the steps, Mr. Ross stopped. “I forgot to tell Davis Lee something. I’ll be right back.”
“All right.”
As she waited, she talked to Molly, pointing out the livery across the way then a hotel just beyond that looked almost finished. A sign across the front of the two-story stone building said New Owners. Construction to Resume Soon.
So far, the sheriff didn’t appear to have any information about a senator’s missing stepdaughter and daughter. The relief that moved through Emma was so strong it made her light-headed, as if she’d been out in the sun too long.
The heavy thud of boots sounded on the steps behind her and Jake Ross joined her. As they stepped into the dusty street, she started for the wagon, but he halted.
“Miz York, would you like something to drink before we head back?”
She hesitated, wondering if he realized the baby would have to come, too.
“Do you like lemonade? Pearl makes a good one.”
“Lemonade?” she asked in surprise. She loved lemonade, thought longingly of her mother’s. “Yes, I like it.”
“I’m thirsty and you probably are, too. Let’s have us a glass before we head back to the ranch.”
She supposed she could refuse and wait for him in the wagon, but lemonade… “All right.”
He gave a sharp nod and gestured to the right.
As they walked to the Pearl Restaurant, Emma wondered what his feelings toward the baby really were. She didn’t think she’d misread him, but she needed to be sure. She was no good at coaxing information out of people, but she wanted—needed—to know if Jake Ross was the one who should raise Molly.
As they stepped up on the plank walk in front of the restaurant, he stopped abruptly, calling out to a sturdy, red-haired man walking toward them. “Hoot!”
Emma halted beside Jake, keeping her head bent toward the baby. The fewer people who got a good look at her, the better.
The man stopped several inches away. “Jake. Ma’am.” He extended his hand. “Hoot Eckert.”
“This is Miz York, the baby’s nurse.”
“Hello,” she murmured, shaking his hand.
Eckert’s face was as round as his body and the red mustache and long sideburns gave him a jovial look. He peered at Molly. “So, this is the little girl you found.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “I was wondering if you’d had any replies to that ad yet.”
Emma’s spine went to steel. This man ran the newspaper and Jake Ross was asking if a family had been found for Molly. Anger hummed through her.
“No, not yet. If I hear anything, I’ll come out to the Circle R or send Chesterene.”
“I’d appreciate it.” Jake shook hands with the man, who tipped his hat to her and walked on.
Emma didn’t know who Chesterene was and she didn’t care. All she cared about was the disappointment in Jake Ross’s taut voice that he was still responsible for Molly. Emma had to keep her mouth shut—the baby was supposed to be only a job to her.
The lanky rancher held open the door to the Pearl, his expression neutral until she passed in front of him with the baby. Then his face closed up like a coffin.
His reaction to the little girl was so obvious that Emma was unable to stop a flare of temper. “If you hadn’t found someone for the job, would you have sent Molly to that orphanage?”
Surprise flashed through his eyes before they went hard. Emma braced herself. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything in front of these people. And, if he tried, she had her derringer in her skirt pocket.
Jaw clenched tight, he stood in the doorway of the restaurant, looking away. “I would’ve figured something out.”
What did that mean? Emma was afraid she knew. As much as she wanted to stay out of Jake Ross’s way, she had to find out if this was the place for her to leave her half sister. She had to learn as much about him as she could. Without giving away anything about herself.
If you hadn’t found someone for the job, would you have sent Molly to that orphanage? Damn if it was any of her business.
They’d left Whirlwind about an hour ago and that question had been sawing at Jake ever since. He wouldn’t have been able to send the kid there. Still, he didn’t like Emma York asking questions like that. She worked for him. She didn’t need to know any more than that.
But there was something about her. He couldn’t stop staring at her, though he’d managed to keep from it in Davis Lee’s office. The Pearl had been another matter. He’d ordered their lemonade and been surprised by Miz York’s reaction. She didn’t just like the sweet drink; she loved it. The first true smile he’d seen from her spread across her face and chased away the shadows in her eyes. And, just like that, Jake was staring again.
She wore a pink calico dress that hung a little loosely on her slender frame. Her long, dark hair was up today, not down as he’d seen it last night. As the wagon rocked along the hard-packed road toward the ranch, his mind seemed stuck on their meeting in the kitchen. The lamplight had gilded her hair with amber. He had wanted to touch the silky thickness. Because he still did, he tightened his grip on the reins.
Still, thinking about Emma York was a sight better than thinking about his brother-in-law, whom he’d glimpsed as they’d left town. Quentin hadn’t seen Jake and Jake hadn’t stopped to remedy that. He didn’t want to think about his brother-in-law so he turned his thoughts to the visit he’d paid to the sheriff.
He’d been planning to let Miz York go in alone to see Davis Lee, but she’d been trembling. There had been as much apprehension on her face as there had been embarrassment. As difficult as it had been for her to tell Jake about the theft of her corset, it had to be at least that hard to tell another man. No one at the ranch knew why he and the baby nurse had gone to Whirlwind. He didn’t see any reason to deepen her embarrassment by telling his family, who couldn’t do anything about it, anyway.
Knowing her corset had been stolen and observing how tightly she wrapped that shawl around herself had Jake figuring she didn’t have on a corset. Just as she hadn’t last night.
Coming upon her in the kitchen had torched something inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a lot of years. Bathed in the soft amber light, Emma York had looked like an angel. He hadn’t been able to see anything bare save her dainty feet, although that hadn’t stopped him wishing he had.
“The sheriff and his wife are good friends of yours?”
He sliced a look at her. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left town. Or, well, since they’d stopped a half mile back to make a pallet in the wagon bed for the baby, who’d fallen asleep. Miz York had held the child all day.
“Yeah, I’ve known Davis Lee my whole life. He and his brother, Riley. Miz Josie moved here only last fall. She’s a real nice lady.”
“Did she come here to marry the sheriff?”
Jake chuckled. “No. Those two danced around each other for a while on account of Miz Josie coming here to kill one of Davis Lee’s prisoners.”
“What?” The nurse’s jaw dropped.
Jake wasn’t much of a storyteller, but he seemed to hold her attention as he told her about Ian McDougal, the outlaw who had murdered Josie’s parents and fiancé. “He was part of a gang of brothers. They also killed a man from Whirlwind and nearly did in a Ranger when they murdered his partner. When Ian was finally caught, he was put in Whirlwind’s jail to wait for his trial.”
“Goodness,” she breathed. “So did he have a trial? What happened? Did Mrs. Holt kill him?”
“Not in the end, but she had a chance to. He hit me upside the head and escaped from the jail.”
Miz York frowned as she glanced at him. “How badly were you hurt?”
“Just had a big knot on my head. And my pride stung a little. Miz Josie and the sheriff both took off after McDougal, but she wound up letting him escape so she could bring Davis Lee back here because he got shot. The McDougals also killed our stage driver. That man’s brother-in-law ended up being the one to bring in the outlaw. Ian McDougal was tried and hanged not long after. Which he should’ve been, but Loren Barnes had to suffer for his part in it.”
“Why?”
“He made an attempt on McDougal’s life while the man was in jail here. Loren went to prison, but a lot of people, including the sheriff, didn’t think that was right. Davis Lee and his cousin, Jericho Blue, a Texas Ranger, were able to convince the judge to reduce the sentence to nine months. Loren’s supposed to get out next month. His sister, Cora, still lives here so I figure he’ll be coming back.”
“Aren’t people afraid?”
“Of Loren? Naw.” If they had to talk, Jake would much rather talk about this than anything about himself. He hadn’t spoken this long at a stretch since his school days when he’d been required to read aloud from McGuffey’sReader every single day. “He was only trying to get justice for his widowed sister.”
“Whirlwind seems like such a quiet place.”
“It generally is.” He glanced over, catching a whiff of her soft scent and the flowers that grew in wild patches across the prairie. “What about where you’re from?”
“What do you mean?”
She looked as if he’d caught her sneaking around in the dark. “You come from a big town in Illinois?”
“A little bigger than Whirlwind,” she said quietly.
“You got people back there?”
She looked over her shoulder to check on the baby, but Jake got the impression she did it to avoid giving him her full attention. “Like who?”
“Your husband’s family or yours, I guess.”
“My mother and father are both there. Do you have any family besides the people at the ranch?”
Even now, five years later, it hurt like blue blazes to think about the wife and child he’d lost. “That’s it.”
“Georgia said Mr. Bram hasn’t been here all that long.”
Why was Miz York so all-fired interested in his family? Or was it only Bram? “He’s a drover.”
“Drives cattle?”
He nodded, dark thoughts creeping in. Of his resentment over Delia leaving him the way she had, of her brother, whom Jake didn’t want to feel responsible for anymore. “A lot of ranchers are sending their cattle to market and slaughter by train so work on the cattle drives is drying up. Bram came home about five months ago to work with me and Uncle Ike.”
“How long have your uncle and Georgia lived with you?”
“Always.” His jaw tightened. His whole family lived at the ranch and Jake liked it. Being cast off by their own mother, it was the only home he and Bram had ever known.
For a few short years after marrying, Jake had had all he’d ever wanted except a child with Delia. He’d wanted that more than anything and that desire had killed his wife. Now she was gone and so was his hope of having a family. Pretty much his interest in having one, too.
Jake hoped Miz York would shut up now. He was talked out. She sure did ask a lot of questions for someone who wasn’t all that free with information about herself. He didn’t mind answering some questions, but when she ventured into territory that made him think about his wife, he’d had enough.
They were less than a mile from the Circle R when a slow shrieking noise split the air. At the same instant Jake realized what it meant, a sharp crack sounded. The wagon hit the ground hard on Miz York’s side, the right front wheel splintering.
Before he could grab her, she pitched out of the wagon into the tall grass. She cried out, her skirts flying up to reveal the hem of a petticoat and a flash of white stockings. The crash jolted the baby and she screamed then began to sob. The horse drew up abruptly.
With a sick feeling in his gut, Jake half slid, half scrambled out of the wagon to check the little girl. Though he didn’t want to, he moved his hands over her. She was carrying on as if her tail were on fire, but she didn’t appear to be hurt. No blood, no scratches, no immediately visible broken bones.
He turned, looking for the baby nurse. Where was she? There, yards away, her pink calico dress almost hidden by the tall grass. He strode toward her. “Miz York!”
He told himself to remain calm, but as he moved, a black rage began to build. Knowing that wheel was weak, he’d told Waylon two days ago to fix it after he and Uncle Ike had returned from Whirlwind. Now Miz York might be hurt. The baby could’ve been, too.
Jake reached the slight woman just as she pushed herself to a sitting position. Her glasses were gone, tendrils of brown hair escaping from her chignon.
“Are you all right?” He knelt, but she got quickly to her feet, swaying slightly then steadying herself.
“The baby! Where’s the baby?”
“She’s still in the wagon.” He stood.
The nurse rushed past him.
“She’s okay. Are you?” A glitter in the grass caught his eye and he picked up her spectacles just before stepping on them. They were scratched, but not broken.
“Did you just leave her there?” Her voice trembled with anger. “Did you check on her at all?”
“Of course I did!” he snapped as he followed her to the wagon. What did she think he was, a coldhearted SOB? “She wasn’t bleeding, she wasn’t scratched, she didn’t appear to be hurt, but I wasn’t so sure about you. I’m still not. Did you bust anything?”
“I think I’m fine.” Reaching over the side of the wagon, she gathered the sobbing infant to her, cuddling her close and murmuring to her.
He sure couldn’t fault her care or concern for that child. As she turned toward him, Jake saw a cut over her left eyebrow and a scratch along the line of her jaw. Fury exploded inside him. His fist closed, nearly crushing her glasses. He ripped off his hat and started toward her.
Her eyes went wide and she backed up so fast she hit the side of the wagon. Her arm came up as if to ward off a blow. “Stay away! Stay back.”
“What?” Jake frowned, his gaze skipping over her, looking for further injuries. Maybe she’d taken a hit to the head. Waylon was going to answer for this.
“Stop! Don’t come any closer.” Holding the baby with one arm, she fumbled at her skirt pocket.
It registered then, how her voice shook, how the color had drained from her face. And Jake understood. She thought he was coming after her. She thought he was going to hit her!
That stopped him cold in his tracks a few feet away from her, cooling the rage pumping through his blood. A deep pain sliced at him. “You think I would hurt you? I would never—”
“Please, please stop.” She kept her hand in her pocket.
He realized he had taken another step toward her. He halted, reeling with disbelief and realization. Someone had hit her before. That made Jake angry all over again, but he struggled to keep it from showing.
“I’ll back up,” he said as he did it. The woman was terrified, her green eyes huge in her pale face. The distrust on her face twisted his gut. “I’m not coming closer, see? I’ll stay right here.”
After long seconds, she nodded, her pretty eyes full of turmoil.
Crushing his hat in his fist, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
The wariness in her eyes was so deep, so dark that he wanted to gather her to him and soothe her until she knew there was no need to fear him. But that would probably scare her spitless. “Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said tautly, her arms wrapped so tightly around the baby that the little girl protested with a loud noise.
“You have a cut above your eye. Your left one.”
She reached up to touch it, looking surprised at the blood on her fingers. “I’m all right.”
She was as frightened and defensive as a wounded animal. He could see she wasn’t going to let him get any closer and they needed to get home before dark. “I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna unhitch the mare. I’ll walk and you and the…baby can ride back to the ranch.”
She looked at the horse, then the damaged wagon. “I’ll walk, instead,” she said quickly.
He started to insist she ride then realized he would have to help her mount. She didn’t want him putting his hands on her.
Agreeing to let her walk went against everything his uncle had taught him about how to treat a lady, but Ike hadn’t seen the pure-dee terror in Emma York’s face when she’d thought Jake was going to hit her. “Are you sure you won’t ride—”
“I’m sure.”
The unsteadiness of her voice told him she was still afraid. He didn’t blame her. She didn’t know him well enough to know that she didn’t need to fear him. “If you’re in pain or hurt anywhere else,” he said gruffly, “I can carry her.”
“I’ll do it.”
He knew the relief was plain on his face when her mouth tightened. After placing her glasses carefully on the corner of the lopsided wagon, he walked around the mare’s head to the other side. Letting Emma York know she had plenty of room.
Jake jammed his hat on his head. After making sure the mare was uninjured, he unhitched her and looped the wagon reins into one hand. Letting his nurse walk to the ranch, especially carrying the baby, grated hard on him. “You tell me if you need to stop or if something starts hurting.”
“I will.”
With one last look back at her, he started walking. But she didn’t. After a long moment, he finally caught her movement out of the corner of his eye.
Someone—some man—had obviously hit her before. Who? When? Was that why she was here? Was she running from someone?
Jake didn’t want any trouble, didn’t need to get involved in someone else’s trouble. He was involved in plenty of his own.
But he couldn’t forget the paralyzing fear he’d seen in her face, her eyes. Jake cursed under his breath. He could shine it up any way he wanted, but he was involved.
Chapter Four
Well after dark that night, Emma’s nerves were still jumping and it wasn’t so much from the wagon accident as it was from the man who now believed she was afraid of him.
The incredulous look in Jake’s dark eyes when she’d cowered from him was burned in her brain. He’d quickly masked it, but he had been wounded by her reaction.
She was in the kitchen, where she’d stayed as much as possible since Sheriff Holt’s arrival shortly after supper. He and Jake had remained outside until the sun had set.
Georgia had offered to help Emma clean up, but she’d waved off the older woman’s assistance. So, Georgia had kept Ike and Molly company in the front room until the older two had brought Emma the baby and gone up to bed a few moments ago. Jake’s uncle and cousin seemed to really like the little girl. Everyone did, except Jake.
Emma sang softly to Molly as she swayed back and forth, putting the little girl to sleep. The buttery scent of corn bread and savory meat still lingered in the room. She waited until she could no longer hear the retreating hoof-beats of the sheriff’s horse before she stepped out of the kitchen. With Molly asleep on her shoulder, she scanned the spacious living area for any sign of Jake or his brother.
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced over, toward her room. Jake stood in the doorway, his wide shoulders filling the space.
Emma started in surprise. She hadn’t heard him come in, let alone make his way to her room.
He looked startled, too, as if he were surprised to see her.
“Oh. There you are,” he said gruffly as he moved to the dining table, staying on the opposite side. “I just wanted to let you know that Davis Lee didn’t find anything to help us with that thief, but we’ll keep looking. Not just for your, uh—” His gaze skipped away. “You know.”
She realized he was trying not to look at her chest. Her corsetless chest. Oh, lands.
“Okay,” she said in a half whisper, her own gaze dropping. Heat moved up her neck and into her cheeks. She needed to think of a way to make do until she could get another corset. Maybe two chemises? That sounded miserable in this hot weather.
Hugging the baby close, she moved over to the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace and gently laid down the little girl. The mingled scents of man and horse and outdoors drifted from her boss. When Emma straightened, she saw Jake’s big hands curl over the back of a heavy dining-room chair, his knuckles white against the dark bronze of his hands. As if he was trying to keep himself from moving.
And he was, she realized. He was trying to keep some space between them. Again, regret rolled through her. She wanted to apologize for reacting the way she had after the accident, but it was better this way, wasn’t it? The less comfortable she became with him—with his family—the easier it would be when she had to leave.
“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get your clothes back,” he said tautly.
She nodded, returning to the table as she adjusted her spectacles. They’d gotten scratched when she’d flown out of the wagon and Jake had picked them up. Which was good, because Emma had forgotten she was supposed to wear them.
Releasing the chair, he stepped away as he gestured at her. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said quietly. Her jaw was sore and scratched and the cut above her left eyebrow stung, but it could’ve been worse. The baby could’ve been hurt, too. Georgia had tended Emma, saying the wound wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. Thank goodness.
“I’m glad you’re all right.” The lantern light behind him stretched his shadow across the ceiling and far wall. His dark gaze burned into hers, causing a quiver in her belly. “It never should’ve happened.”
She managed a small smile, her body humming with a low vibration she didn’t understand. And a heightened awareness that she and Jake were the only two down here.
The front door opened and they both turned toward the sound. Bram came in, pulling off his dirty cowboy hat and hanging it on the rack behind the door. Red dust floated from his dark hair and rugged work clothes to the floor as he backed into the wall, toeing off one boot then the other.
Jake took a step toward the other man. “Any luck?”
Bram nodded, his gaze going to Emma. “Hi, Miz York.”
“Hello. I was just fixing a plate for you. I’ll get it.”
“Thanks.” His voice was gritty with fatigue. “I’m so hungry I could eat my saddle blanket.”
She walked the few steps into the kitchen, able to hear their low murmurs and catch a few words. She appreciated that they were keeping their voices down so as not to wake the baby.
Jake had told her earlier that Bram had gone out today with a group of ranchers, all riding fence to check on their cattle. In the last two weeks, the Circle R had lost four prime steers to a rustler. Jake had mentioned that a neighboring spread, the Rocking H, and the nearby Triple B ranch had also lost some prime beef. The Rocking H belonged to Sheriff Holt’s brother, Riley, but Emma couldn’t remember the name of the other owner. She knew they were both friends of the Ross family.
“We found an old camp and three ash piles.” Bram’s voice was scratchy with fatigue. “Riley and I figure it’s from the fire they used to heat their own brands and change ours.”
“A running iron?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re modifying our brand, Holt’s, the Baldwins.”
“Yeah, and right now we don’t know what mark they’re using. Could be a bar, a circle. We just don’t know.”
“You got a brand book?” Jake asked.
“The last one issued by the livestock association and a copy of The PrairieCaller for double-checkin’. There may be some new brands in the paper’s latest edition.”
Emma knew The Prairie Caller was the newspaper in Whirlwind. The newspaper in which Jake had run an ad hoping to get a family for Molly.
“At least the book will show us what’s legitimate,” Jake said. “Maybe help us figure out the brands that aren’t.”
The men’s voices dropped so low that Emma couldn’t hear any more. She uncovered the plate of corn bread and ham she’d put aside for Bram. After removing a cloth from the earthen pitcher of buttermilk, she filled a real glass, then carried it with the plate to the dining-room table. She set down the food, glancing toward the brothers.
Jake’s gaze flickered over her, his jaw locking, his eyes flashing. Apprehension had her going still. Why was he looking at her like that? What were they talking about?
“Well?” Bram leveled a look at his brother.
Jake turned away and started for the stairs. Over his shoulder, he said, “Good night, Miz York.”
“Good night.”
Bram gave a derisive snort and came to the table. Emma looked from him to Jake, who was already halfway up the stairs. What was going on?
Bram slid into his chair. “This looks really good, ma’am. You’re a good cook.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ross.”
“You’d better call me Bram.” His blue eyes twinkled. “You’ll talk yourself dizzy calling all three of us Mr. Ross.”
“All right.” She turned for the kitchen. “I’ll be in here, finishing up. If you need anything, let me know.”
He nodded, already digging in. Giving one last look to make sure Molly still slept, Emma went back into the kitchen and pumped water into the deep sink. Back in Topeka, her mother’s house had boasted an indoor pump and a bathing tub. Emma had been pleasantly surprised to find those conveniences here, too. There was even an oblong bathing tub in her room. Jake Ross and his family must do very well with their ranch.
She washed the bread pans, the griddle, the egg beater and the good china Georgia said had been her mother’s, setting everything on the wide counter to the side to hand-dry when she finished rinsing.
As she worked, her mind went again to the wagon accident. Once they’d arrived home, Jake had gotten her and Molly into the house. His jaw had been set, his features cold and intimidating, but he hadn’t yelled or punched or threatened the way Emma’s stepfather did when he was angry. He had simply said, in a voice vibrating with quiet fury, that he was going back for that busted wheel then would be in the barn fixing it.
Georgia had told her a ranch hand named Waylon was the one who had neglected to fix the wheel when Jake had told him to do so, and he’d been fired. There were enough dangers on a ranch without making their own by being remiss.
“That hit the spot, Miz York,” Bram said as he walked into the kitchen.
Jerked out of her thoughts, she smiled over her shoulder at him. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“The baby’s sleeping real good. I just checked.”
“Thank you.” She turned and took his plate, their fingers brushing. Emma thought back to when her fingers had touched Jake’s yesterday morning at breakfast. His touch had sent heat streaking up her arm and into other places of her body. But she felt nothing like that at his brother’s touch.
Bram moved to her other side, snagging a clean dish towel from the rack on the wall beside the sink. “I’ll help you dry.”
“Oh, no! That’s not—”
“Do I smell too much like dirt and cattle?”
He did smell of those things, but Emma didn’t find it unpleasant. She was more worried that someone—Jake—might think she wasn’t doing her job if everyone kept helping her all the time. With the back of her hand, she pushed her eyeglasses up. “You look worn out.”
“No offense, but so do you. If we work together, we can both turn in sooner.”
“Wouldn’t you rather eat the last of the apple pie?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “I thought I might sneak that upstairs.”
She laughed as he picked up the skillet and began drying. He glanced over at her. “Jake told me there was a wagon accident today.”
She tensed, wondering if his brother had told him why they’d been in the wagon to start with. It was bad enough that Jake knew she wasn’t wearing a corset; she would be mortified if he’d told his brother about the theft.
But the other man acted as if he had no idea about her missing undergarment. “It’s good the baby’s okay, but Jake said you got banged up a bit.”
“Just a scrape or two.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”
“Me, too.”
“A busted wheel can be dangerous. Scary.”
“Yes. And loud.” She smiled at him, relieved to think that Jake had told his brother only about the wagon accident.
“Did he see anyone in town besides Hoot—”
He broke off abruptly and her gaze swung to his. So, he knew Jake had asked the newspaper man, Mr. Eckert, about the ad regarding Molly.
Bram chewed the inside of his cheek, looking as if he wished he hadn’t said that. After a long pause, he continued, “Did he talk to anyone named Quentin?”
“No, only the man from the newspaper.” The thought made her mad all over again and she couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. She rinsed the coffeepot and began drying. “He just had to know if anyone had responded to his ad about a family for Molly.”
This time, it was Bram’s gaze slicing to her and Emma winced inwardly. She had to watch what she said. Comments like that could anger these men. Any time she had expressed her opinion at home had certainly made her stepfather angry.
But, when Bram spoke, he sounded thoughtful, reassuring. “I don’t look for him to find a family. Not one that’s suitable, anyway. He won’t let her go with anyone if he isn’t a hundred percent sure.”
Emma didn’t see why Jake had to try and give Molly away, at all. She put the clean coffeepot back on the stove, asking softly, “Do you want to give her away, too?”
“No, but I haven’t been through what he’s—”
Emma glanced up, waiting.
Bram peered hard at the skillet he dried. “He’ll come around. He’s a tough nut to crack sometimes.”
She wanted to believe Bram; he certainly knew his brother better than she did. But what had he meant about Jake? What had he been through?
Before she could ponder too long, the big man beside her stacked the now-clean pans and placed them up on the long shelf that ran the length of the wall behind the sink. He hung the damp towel on the rack.
“Thanks for your help.” She dried her hands on her apron.
“You’re welcome. You should get some shut-eye. You’ve had a rough day.”
She doused the lantern, then followed him out of the kitchen.
He took care of the lantern at the foot of the stairs then started up, his piece of pie wrapped in a cloth. Pale yellow light washed down the stairs from a hall lamp by the bedrooms. “Good night.”
“Good night.” She bent and picked up Molly, soothing the little girl when she stirred. In the few steps it took to reach their room, the baby was again deeply asleep.
Emma moved to the bed, noticing a plain brown wrapped package at the foot of the mattress.
Last night, in the middle of the night, the little girl had climbed out and toddled over to Emma. She’d wanted to play and, when Emma had finally gotten Molly back to sleep, she’d kept the baby in bed with her. She couldn’t have her sister wandering about at night.
She settled the little girl into the fat mattress, where she would sleep until her bed arrived. Emma folded the blanket to the foot of the bed and left only the top sheet. The nights were too hot for more than one layer. She picked up the package and walked to the washstand against the far wall to turn up the lamp a bit. Amber light flickered on the floor as she sank down into the rocking chair that sat near the window. Tired and sore, Emma took off her glasses and placed them on the washstand. She closed her eyes for a second before unknotting the twine around the package and opening it. She gaped.
A corset!
As her fingers skimmed over the pale colored sateen-weave cotton and cream lace trim at the top, she wavered between embarrassment and pleasure. But, when she touched the satin ribbon threaded through the lace, the embarrassment faded. Jake had gotten her a corset. It had to have been him; no one else knew. How had he done it? When?
The package hadn’t been in the wagon; it would’ve flown out during the accident and Emma would’ve seen it. She lifted the undergarment, taking note of the fine whalebone, the steel busk at the center front where it hooked together. It was a “spoon busk,” curved in at the waist and widened into a pear shape at the bottom. That was what gave it smooth, slim lines, what every fashionable woman wore.
The garment was much finer than Emma’s stolen one. She held it up by the side seams to check the width. It would fit. It looked perfect. Her throat tightened.
Jake Ross had gotten her a corset.
She stared in amazement. She had to thank him.
It wouldn’t suit to ignore the gesture, regardless of the gift being so intimate. She pushed out of the rocking chair, clasping the undergarment tight as she hurried out of her room. She stopped outside of the door.
Everyone was asleep. Jake probably wouldn’t be coming back down here tonight and Emma certainly couldn’t go up there. Slowly, she turned and went back into her room, so overwhelmed she felt as if her chest might burst.
Believing her to be afraid, he had kept a marked distance from her ever since they’d reached the ranch. The smart thing to do would be to keep her distance, as well. It was best for her and Molly’s safety. But Emma couldn’t ignore the gift. She just couldn’t. The first time they had a moment alone, she would thank him.
Emma had been wearing her new corset for the last two days and she knew Jake was aware. Three times she had caught his heated gaze on her. But she still hadn’t had a single opportunity to thank him alone.
She wanted it done. Maybe then she could stop thinking about him in her room, touching her corset.
It was midafternoon and Georgia had gone into town for a Saturday meeting with the library committee. The men were out stringing fence. Emma had heard more talk last night as they’d tried to decide how to set a trap for the cattle rustlers.
About a half hour ago, Emma had put the baby down for her nap then swept and dusted the rooms upstairs. Now she surveyed the freshly scrubbed kitchen floor and fanned herself with one hand. Perspiration trickled between her breasts and down her spine, and she plucked the light cotton dress away from her skin. Pushing back the hair that had come loose from her braid, she undid the top two buttons on her bodice.
Since it appeared she wasn’t ever going to be able to talk to Jake alone, she would write him a thank-you note. She walked across the room to the big oak desk that sat in a space off the living area. A quill pen and ink well rested on the far corner, but Emma saw no paper.
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Debra Cowan
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Стоимость: 463.26 ₽
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesIn fleeing her past, she found a future…Jake Ross’s life changes in a day when he finds a baby on his doorstep! Then he’s thrown into a spin by the quiet beauty he hires to look after his unexpected delivery.On the wild Texas frontier, everyone has something to hide – and Emma York is no exception. Jake can see that she has secrets, but the sexy rancher’s sure he can take care of her…if he can only find out what she needs protection from!