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“Can I help you, ma’am?”
Rachel looked up quickly as the clerk approached, her eyes widening at his elegance. Pomade slicked his hair back neatly, a heavily starched collar clenched his throat and his shirtsleeves were buttoned firmly at the wrist. A genial smile curled his mouth and his eyes were faintly admiring as he nodded a greeting.
“Yes,” she answered, fumbling in her pocket for the list she’d written. As if she needed prompting to remember the few items she’d scribbled on the brown scrap of paper: sugar—a pound or two, depending on the price, a bag of cornmeal, a pound or so of lard and perhaps some eggs. Maybe even cans of milk for the boys’ oatmeal.
She’d yearned for weeks for the taste of a fried egg. Not that she could afford that luxury. These, if they weren’t too dear, would be used for baking. Jay and Henry had responded to the bribe of a cake, should they do their chores and carry water without complaining.
They’d been more than compliant, she realized, once they were settled in and ready to call the tumbledown cabin their dwelling. They’d followed her lead, straightening and settling in, making a home of the place they’d found.
“We got some new dimity in from St. Louis just the other day,” the clerk said, recalling Rachel from her thoughts.
He probably thought she could use a new dress. And he was right. Her smile was grim as she shook her head. “No, we just need a few items today. Some cornmeal to start with.”
She read off her short list and watched as the clerk moved efficiently behind the gleaming wooden counter. He filled a cloth sack with her sugar, surely more than a pound, she thought, her eyes narrowing as she watched his deft movements. The lard was next, dealt with quickly, then three cans of evaporated milk.
Finally, wrapping four eggs individually in brown paper, he placed them carefully inside the bag of cornmeal. “That’ll keep ‘em from breaking if they get jostled,” he explained, tying the neck of the bag once more.
He rested both palms on the counter, leaning just a bit in her direction, his smile more eager now. “What else will you have today?”
Rachel’s mind moved quickly, counting up her spending against the coins she’d brought with her. Such strict rationing of money was a burden, but one she was willing to assume, given the alternative. There was no way she would give over the care of her brothers to strangers, no matter how well off they might be.
“How much is a small bag of tea?” she asked.
He turned from her without reply, opening a tin on the shelf behind him. From within rose a pungent aroma as he turned with it to face her. His smile was inviting as he scooped out a generous portion into a metal box.
“I don’t think I can afford that much,” Rachel protested as he closed the lid tightly on the enameled container. Covered with painted roses and green leaves, intertwined over the top and down the sides, it beckoned her, silently tempting her.
“Well, why don’t we just call it a welcome present from Green Rapids, ma’am. You’re a stranger here, and we like to make newcomers feel at home.”
As a gesture of friendship, it was more than she had expected. But from the look in his eyes and the ready grin he bestowed upon her, she suspected he’d taken a shine to her.
“I don’t know you, sir,” she said quietly, aware of the silence of her brothers as they flanked her in a silent show of support.
“Conrad Carson, proprietor, ma’am,” he announced, offering his hand politely. “At your service.”
His bow spoke of old-world manners and good upbringing and Rachel was mollified. Her hand felt cool as she placed it against his smooth palm for a moment Clean, with well-kept nails, it touched hers with assurance.
She was reminded suddenly of the hand she’d taken hold of just two days ago. That hard, callused hand that had held hers with care. A far cry from this storekeeper’s.
“Thank you, Mr. Carson,” Rachel said, withdrawing her palm from his touch. She fumbled in her pocket for her small change purse and drew it forth. “How much do I owe you?”
“Well, let’s see now.” Quickly, he scratched out figures on a piece of brown paper and told her the total of her purchases before he wrapped the bits and pieces together in the heavy paper.
Rachel counted out her coins and breathed a sigh of relief. She had enough and a bit left over. Recklessly, she handed each boy a penny. “You can buy a piece of candy, if you like,” she told them beneath her breath.
“Really, Rae?” squeaked Jay.
“Can we afford it?” Henry whispered, standing tiptoe to speak closer to her ear.
She nodded and smiled at the two of them, these dear boys she would defend with her very life if need be. And then she watched as they marched quickly to the glass case that held jars of assorted candies.
He’d give her a week, he’d decided, riding back to the ranch house. He’d let her eke out an existence in the shack, living on fish and rabbits and whatever else she had stowed in that pitiful excuse for a house. And then he’d go back. She’d be ripe by then for another offer.
He lasted three days.
Thoughts of her filled his waking hours. Dreams of that womanly body haunted his sleep, and the pure imaginings of his mind were the impetus that sent him on his way early on Monday morning.
Surely he hadn’t been so long without the companionship of a female that he couldn’t control his own needs.
Certainly he was capable of running his ranch, tending to his stock and overseeing the men working for him without allowing the memory of a slender woman to take precedence over the operation he was heading.
Derisively, Cord shook his head at his own folly. The slim creature he’d been obsessed with for three days would be merely an ordinary woman when he saw her again. No more and no less than any other he’d run across in his life.
Once he set eyes on her again, he’d be able to vanquish the assortment of urges he’d been fighting for three days.
The miles were long beneath the reaching strides of his gelding. The far corners of his ranch had never seemed so distant before. Maybe he shouldn’t have left her alone out here. What if someone had come upon the small family and taken advantage of their pitiful situation?
His heels dug into the sides of his mount and he searched the horizon for the line of trees that rimmed the uppermost ridge of the small valley he sought.
The best approach would be to offer her a job. Not just a couple of days a week, as he’d suggested the other day, but a full-time, everyday job that would necessitate moving her and her brothers, bag and baggage, to his place.
And then there would really be fireworks to deal with, once Jake had his routine disturbed.
He’d have to depend on Sam Bostwick to keep Jake in line and away from Rachel. No sense in scaring her off first thing. The thought of his brother brought a frown and a deep-felt sigh.
Jake wouldn’t take well to a female around the place.
The Circle M employed five ranch hands, none of whom was capable of putting a decent meal on the table, as far as Cord was concerned. Finding help had become almost a farce in the past year. The gold strike was a thing of the distant past, but there were always the hopeful ones making their way west
The fact was, getting decent ranch hands here in Kansas, and keeping them, depended in good part upon the food you put in their bellies.
The gradual rise before him was a sea of wildflowers, topped by a ridge of trees. The sun was brilliant against the horizon. A hawk skimmed the treetops, a silent hunter against the cloudless sky.
And there, kneeling beneath the freshly born leaves of a maple sapling was the slender woman who’d occupied his thoughts for the past three days.
She lifted her head, her eyes wide as she watched him approach. As his horse came to a halt just feet away, she stood. Her dress showed the effects of many wash days, its color nondescript, with faint images of flowers against a faded pink background.
It was too short, even though the hem had been let down, and he felt a quick surge of gladness at that fact, his gaze pausing on the slim ankles and bare feet she made no attempt to conceal.
“Mr. McPherson.”
It was a greeting of sorts, accompanied by a slow nod of her head, her eyes wary as he slid from his horse to stand before her.
“Miss Sinclair.” He stopped abruptly. Then, as if his senses had deserted him, his tongue refused to speak.
She was watching him in a grave, sober fashion that was not encouraging to his proposal. What he wanted to say would be insulting to a lady, and she deserved that designation.
How could he ask her to gather up her family and come home with him? He could offer no chaperon, no other woman to protect her name while she occupied his home. And yet the desire to be in her company had not eased with the passing of time. His best bet was to put it on a business basis, he decided.
She’d thought about him for three days. And now he was here, appearing at the crest of the long slope, atop his big horse, making his way to where she stood.
“I came out to see if you were needing anything, ma’am.”
Rachel considered the man standing before her. He’d been studying her with a penetrating eye, all the way up the hill, as if he could somehow see beneath the wash dress she wore. And then he’d offered a neighborly suggestion.
Did she need anything? Here she stood, fresh from praying upon the highest spot available in the valley, as if the height of the small hill could somehow make her more noticeable to heaven’s eye. She’d just asked God’s help in stretching her pitiful supply of money. There was about enough left to feed her brothers for another week or so, but not much longer.
With the oatmeal about done for and the flour gone weevily when she made biscuits this morning, she’d had to face the facts. She’d shuddered as she sifted the small brown bugs from her measuring cup, and cast them out the door of the shack. She’d manage to feed the boys a while longer, but even after the trip to town, the end of her supplies was in sight.
And so was the bottom of her small cache of coins.
Now here, as if he bore a message from the Almighty, came the man who’d not been far from her thoughts since Thursday, when he’d announced his ownership of the very spot they’d taken over as their own.
“Do we need anything?” She repeated his words and her voice was alive with wry incredulity. “I suppose I should be polite and tell you that my brothers and I have everything under control, Mr. McPherson.”
Vainly, she tried to smile, but the worry of the long night hours had left her without a trace of good humor.
Cord McPherson swept his wide-brimmed hat from his head and slapped it against his thigh. “I’m not looking for niceties from you, ma’am. I’d take the truth over a polite denial any day of the week.”
“We can survive for a while,” she said finally, her breath escaping in a sigh. “We had enough food to last a month or so, when we got here, with fresh meat and fish to fill in. But we’ve about reached the bottom of the barrel, and I don’t know how many more trips to the store in Green Rapids we can afford.”
“Green Rapids? You’ve been there?”
She nodded. “I wasn’t sure I could find the way back there, to tell the truth, but we made it.”
He nodded. “Any problems in town?”
“No.” She smiled, remembering the welcome they’d received. “The shopkeeper was pleasant. He gave me a tin of tea as a gift.”
His brow lifted in disbelief. “Conrad?”
“He seemed very nice,” she said primly, her eyes lowered, her cheeks flushing, unable to meet his gaze.
“I’ll just bet he did.” His words were gruff, and he settled his hands against his hips.
“I didn’t expect you back,” she said finally.
“I told you I’d come.”
Her shrug was answer enough, he decided. She’d probably hoped he wouldn’t show up, if he knew anything about it.
“Anybody give you any trouble here?” He looked beyond her to where the shack huddled in the small valley, the two horses tethered on the other side of the stream, the empty wagon under a tree.
“No.” She shook her head. “A man rode up yesterday and looked things over. But he left after a few minutes.”
“Probably Moses havin’ a look-see. I told him if he got a chance, to check on you.”
“Moses?” She rolled the name on her tongue, her quick mind nudging her dormant sense of humor. “Do you suppose he thought he’d discovered the promised land?” The wave of her slender hand encompassed the shack and its surroundings.
His chuckle warmed her. “And here I thought you didn’t have a lick of jocularity to your name.”
She caught a glimpse of white teeth beneath his dark mustache when he smiled. She’d had little to brighten her days lately, other than meeting Conrad Carson. And even that small bit of pleasure had not been enough to lift her spirits for long.
In fact, until this very minute, she’d about decided life had reached rock bottom.
The small valley had seemed an Eden of sorts for a while. Only when the store of supplies began running out had she faced facts. Eden would soon pale once the cornmeal and sugar sacks were emptied.
“You asked me to come to your place and do your washing, Mr. McPherson. Does the offer still hold?” Unbidden, the words rushed from her lips and she hesitated, her cheeks flushing with her own temerity as she waited his reply.
His fingers gripped the dented top of his hat and he swept it from his head. “Matter of fact, that’s the very reason I came out here this morning,” he said politely.
Her heart skipped a beat and she felt a rush of warmth flow through her veins. That her prayer should be answered so quickly was surely a sign.
“You want me to go back with you and work on your laundry?” she asked, her mind already speeding ahead to the preparations she must make, were that the case.
His mouth quirked at one corner, and she wondered if he were mocking her eagerness. And then he grinned outright, a smile that carried a welcome message. “More than that, I want you to take on some cooking chores, if you will.”
“If there’s any great amount of washing to do, it may take the rest of the day,” she countered. “I might not have much time left over to spend cooking a big meal for you.”
He ran long fingers through his hair, scratching a spot at the crown, as if he pondered her words. Then the big hat went back in place over his dark hair and he set his jaw, as if he had reached a decision and would not be swayed.
“I’d thought you might be persuaded to take on the ranch kitchen. Just to see if you could handle it. It’s probably too much of a job for a girl like you to cope with, but—”
“I’m far from a young girl, Mr. McPherson,” she said sharply, interrupting him. “I’ve been cooking and scrubbing out the washing on a board for several months now. I’m sure I can handle cooking for a man and doing his clothes without much effort at all.”
Her mouth set primly, she awaited his reply, her pride the issue now. If he thought for one minute she was too puny to be of any use, he could just…Just what? Find someone else for the job? When she so desperately needed the security of cash money in her hand and food for the table?
“Well…” He seemed to hesitate, and she urged him silently, her mouth firm, her eyes intent on his, her breath stored tightly in her lungs, as if she feared to release it before he made up his mind.
“It’s not just for me,” he told her. “There’s my brother, too. Plus four ranch hands and Sam. He’s been cookin’ for us, but I doubt he’ll ever be able to put a decent meal together to save his soul. That’s seven men to cook for. The washing is just for me and my brother, but if you wanted to earn more money, I’m sure the men would be happy to get their duds scrubbed out on a regular basis. They like clean clothes come Saturday night, usually.”
Seven men! The image was daunting, but Rachel swallowed her urge to spew the words aloud. She caught her breath, her mind in a whirl. If the ranch house was farther than an hour away, she’d spend much of the day driving the wagon back and forth and never have time to do her own work here.
And then there was the question of the boys.
“Can I bring my brothers along for the day?” she asked, her heart beating rapidly as she bargained.
His shrug was casual. “Don’t know why not They can give you a hand, maybe. Or just pitch in with the barn work.”
She glanced at the shack, where Jay had just appeared in the doorway. “They’ll need to eat, too. If I’m cooking for you, it will be for nine, not just seven.”
“Ten,” he corrected her. “I’ll expect you to share the table with us, Miss Sinclair.” His eyes lit with a glow of triumph and she noted it uneasily.
“How far from here is the house?”
“Better than an hour in a wagon,” he told her. “Little less on horseback.”
“It’ll take me a few minutes to get the boys ready and set things to rights here.” She brushed her hands against the front of her skirt. “I probably should change my clothes too.”
