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Calling a young woman by her first name seemed odd. He’d escorted the highly regarded Miss Sophronia Wannamaker to parties in Sacramento City for over a year before she’d given him permission to call her by her Christian name. That was often the case with a cultured lady of society such as Sophie, but Becky was different. This battered young woman with the warm brown eyes would become part of their family for a time, whether he liked it or not.
Becky set her fork down. “You may call me that if you’d like.”
Mutti patted Becky’s hand. “This is better. Ja? Now, I must go to bed. For some reason I cannot get enough sleep today.”
James jumped up. “I’ll get Kate’s bed moved.”
It took him no time to accomplish the task. He scooted the bed into the corner of Mutti’s room opposite hers and spied Becky’s books on the bureau between them. She’d placed a piece of ribbon in her dictionary. Curiosity compelled him to flip to the page she’d marked. A quick scan showed she must have been looking up impetuous. As he’d suspected by her furrowed forehead when he’d used the word earlier, she didn’t know the meaning. Quon, ever the teacher, would appreciate her eagerness to learn.
“Mutti wondered if—” Becky balanced a pile of bedding in her arms. She stared at the book in his hands, opened her mouth as though she intended to say something but clamped it shut.
His chest tightened, and he set the dictionary down.
Her words came out clipped. “If you’re done in here, I’d like to get the bed made up so I can help Mutti get settled for the night.”
“Of course.” He paused in the doorway and assumed an authoritative tone. “Come out when you’re finished, and we’ll talk.”
James gave Mutti a good-night kiss on the cheek, and she disappeared into her room. He knelt on the hearth and added a log to the fire. Settling into his wing-back armchair, he watched as the blaze crackled and popped, sending sparks flying. He’d seen another kind of spark in Becky’s eyes when she’d caught him snooping. You would think he’d been pocketing priceless jewels instead of looking in a dictionary that was falling to pieces. Perhaps since she had so little, she held tightly to what she did have.
He’d often wondered what possessed a woman to leave everything and everyone she knew and head West. Becky had escaped her abusive brother, which took courage. Her quiet strength would serve her well as she cared for Mutti. She could be somewhat obstinate at times. He’d doubted Becky’s abilities when he’d first met her, but it seemed she would make a good nurse, after all.
He tried to imagine Sophie in the role. The picture of her nursing Mutti was so inconceivable he nearly laughed out loud. How vastly different the two women were. Unlike unassuming Becky, Sophie oozed sophistication. No one could carry on a conversation or make people laugh the way she could. She was stunning, too, with her black hair and artistic features. He’d never felt more like a man than when she’d graced his arm at social functions. But he’d severed ties with her after the accident, sparing her the unpleasantness of further acquaintance. A woman of her social standing deserved a man others admired, not the disfigured son of struggling small-town immigrants.
Becky returned and leaned against his father’s large leather armchair, looking bone-weary. “You wanted to talk?”
“Please take a seat. I’ll be brief.”
She glanced longingly at Mutti’s rocker beside James but perched on Kate’s fancy purple chair on the far side of it, instead.
His conscience held him in its clutches. “I want to apologize for invading your privacy. It won’t happen again.”
Incredulity danced in her clear blue eyes, followed by appreciation. “I know the dictionary’s seen better days, but it’s important to me. Now please, tell me about my duties.”
Strong and forthright, too. A promising combination. “In addition to caring for Mutti, I’d hoped you could take over her chores—cooking, cleaning, laundry and so forth. She’s helped with the milking, chickens and gardening, too. I know that’s a lot, but...”
Becky nodded. “I can do everything inside, but I don’t know how to do the things outdoors. We didn’t have a garden or animals, other than the horses, of course.”
“Quon’s offered to teach you how to tend the garden, and I’ll show you how to do the rest. The milking is done early, so I’ll knock on your door in the morning if you’re not up. Any questions?”
“Will I have any free time?”
He hadn’t given that any thought. “I suppose so, when your work’s done, but you’ll need to be available to Mutti.”
“Of course. But would you mind if I read when she’s sleeping?” She glanced longingly at the books on his side table.
He loved to read, so he could understand her desire. “Not at all. Feel free to borrow any book in the house.”
“Thank you.” A smile lit her face, drawing attention to her round cheeks. He’d been so focused on the bruises marring them earlier that he hadn’t noticed the matching set of dimples. “Did you have anything else for me? If not, I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow and would like to get some rest.”
“That’s all.”
“Then good night, sir.”
“You may call me James.”
“I understand.” She rose and headed straight to Mutti’s room with her head held high.
He stared at the closed door. Becky’s show of independence surprised him. Having the spirited woman around could be interesting—and distracting.
* * *
Bacon sizzled in the skillet, and the invigorating scent of brewing coffee filled the kitchen. Becky sliced two thick slabs of bread for toasting.
A bedroom door opened promptly at five, and James appeared. “You’re up early.”
“Yes.” She’d always been an early riser, but her internal clock must still be adjusting to California time, because she’d awakened at four. Not that she minded. She’d had time to read her Bible, pray and sneak some leftovers out to the dog. The friendly fellow had been waiting for her behind the cabin where she’d bathed him. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Over medium.”
She set James’s breakfast before him in short order. He dove into the meal, not even stopping to say a blessing, and finished it in silence while she began preparations for dinner.
The moment he set his fork down, she reached for his empty plate. “Would you like more?”
“I’m fine. Thanks.” He stood and grabbed his hat. “Come with me, please. I want to show you how to do the milking before Mutti wakes.”
“I’ll be right there.” She put the dirty dishes in the tub of soapy water to soak and met him at the door.
He waited with his hand on the latch and held out a cloak. “This was Kate’s. You’ll need it. The temperature fell overnight.”
She was tempted to forgo the oversize woolen garment since it hadn’t felt cold when she’d visited the dog earlier, but it wouldn’t do to challenge James about something like this. She’d have to choose her battles wisely, because she was certain there would be some.
A short time later Becky sat on a small three-legged stool in the barn beside a large cow.
James stood behind her. “It’s quite simple, really. Grasp the back teat from the two on the left and the front one from those on the right, clamp them between your thumbs and first fingers and squeeze down, alternating the pressure between the two.”
The teats felt a lot different than she’d expected. Firmer and stiffer. She gave one of them a squeeze, but nothing happened. Adding a little pressure, she tried the other, but once again there was no stream of milk.
“Don’t be so timid. Give them a good squeeze. You won’t hurt her.”
After three more unsuccessful attempts, she sighed. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?
“Let me show you.”
She stood.
“No. Stay there.”
She sat. He reached around her and covered her hands with his own. A chill raced down her spine, and although she did her best not to, she shivered. She’d never been in a man’s arms before, and yet here she was with James’s brushing her sides and his breath warming her ear.
“Do it like this.” He squeezed her hands—hard—sending streams of milk pinging against the sides of the metal pail. He kept at it for what felt like an eternity.
She leaned forward and forced herself to ignore him, which wasn’t easy. When she could take no more of his closeness, she glanced at him. The uninjured side of his face was mere inches from hers.
My, but he was handsome. She swallowed in an attempt to moisten her throat, which had become as dry as stale bread. “You can move. I’ve got the idea.”
He shot to his feet, took several steps backward and leaned against the pen with his arms folded over his broad chest. “Let me see you do it, then.”
His high-handed manner rankled. Taking the teats in her hands, she squeezed one and then the other, shooting milk into the pail. She kept at it and silently rejoiced as the amount of frothy white liquid grew. Just as she turned to smirk at him, the cow’s tail smacked her across the face.
James chuckled. “You have to watch out for that. Buttercup likes to flick her tail when you least expect it. And be sure to keep your knees around the bucket, or she could kick it over.”
She huffed. “You don’t have to laugh at me. I’m doing my best.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa! There’s no need to get a polecat in your petticoats. It was funny. That’s all.”
“I doubt you’d be laughing if you’d just gotten a mouthful of tail.”
“You’re right, but I know to watch out for it.”
She lifted her chin. “I’ll learn.”
“You can finish up and leave the pail outside the pen. I’ll carry it in when I finish with the horses.” He sauntered off toward their stalls with his shoulders shaking.
Fine. She’d show him. She would get the milking done quickly and beat him to the house.
She’d barely resumed the milking when James returned. He stood at the back end of the cow, but Buttercup didn’t seem to care. She kept munching her breakfast. He patted her hindquarters. “There. She won’t get you again.”
He’d tied a piece of twine to the cow’s tail and secured it to the top rung of the pen. His thoughtfulness touched her. “Thank you, sir.”
“My name is James. You’re free to use it.”
“So you’ve said.” Becky dipped her head to hide her smile. She shouldn’t take pleasure in irritating him, but he could be so heavy-handed at times that she hadn’t been able to resist.
Before long her back ached and her hands screamed for relief, but she kept on.
She’d been at the milking a good fifteen minutes when James’s voice made her jump.
“Lean into her side. It helps.”
She did as he suggested and felt the cow’s bristly coat against her cheek.
To her dismay, he watched her work for a couple of minutes, and then he peered over her shoulder. “It looks like you’re done, so I’ll get that.” She rose and eased her weary body out of the way. It was a good thing she didn’t have to carry the milk, since her bruised ribs were aching.
“Let’s go.” He freed the cow’s tail and hefted the pail.
She followed him out of the barn, took one look at the orchard and came to a standstill. The sun had crested the horizon, stretching its far-reaching fingers to caress each blossom. “I thought it was beautiful yesterday, but this...” She flung her arms wide. “It’s breathtaking. Just look at all those trees with their loose petals floating in the air. It might seem silly, but I could see myself dancing in them.” He was clearly not amused, so she shoved her fanciful musings aside. “How many trees are there?”
He stood at her side. “About thirteen hundred currently bearing fruit, and five hundred more that I’ve started in the past three years.” Pride dripped from his every word. “I plan to add some more each year until I have all fifty acres planted.”
“I love the soft colors of the flowers, but I noticed yesterday when I took a short walk that some of the trees don’t have any blooms. Why is that?”
She tore her gaze from the apple trees and was rewarded with a sight sweeter than any fruit. The first rays of sunlight had illuminated James’s face, revealing a smile so filled with warmth she could bask in it.
“Those with the white flowers are Rome Beauty and Esopus Spitzenburg, my late-season apples. The pink blooms are my Winesaps. The Jonathans and Baldwins already bloomed and will be ready for harvest earlier.”
“When you’re not so busy, I’d love for you to show me which is which. I want to learn all about the apples, the trees and how you take care of them.”
His expression changed to one of wonder. Or was it disbelief? “You would?”
Disbelief, definitely. “I love apples and know very little about them. Other than how tasty they are and how to bake with them, that is.”
“You’re the first woman I’ve met besides Mutti who’s shown an interest. Neither my sister nor my—my friend...” He glanced from Becky to the house and back. “You’ll be busy with Mutti, but perhaps we could fit in a lesson now and then.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
He stared at her for several seconds, his face a study in conflicting emotions. Surprise. Curiosity. And was that admiration?
Color crept up his neck, and he shook himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare at you like that. I should, um, get this inside.” He took off in such a rush that he sloshed milk over the edge of the bucket.
She watched his retreating figure. James might be a bit brusque on occasion, but he had a softer side, too. Perhaps in time she’d figure out how to get him to reveal it more often.
Not that she’d be here any longer than necessary. Thanks to Dillon, she’d have to change locations frequently to avoid having him find her.
Even so, she welcomed this opportunity to learn all she could about the apple trees. If she happened to enjoy the company of the intriguing man who cared for them, so be it.
Chapter Five (#ulink_eeb3ec5d-dbe3-5021-9429-b3fabaac1127)
“Shh! If anyone catches us, I could get in trouble.”
The copper-colored dog nuzzled Becky’s side. She knelt and petted him. “I’ve spent way too much time out here, Spitz, but I’ll be back this afternoon. I’m fixing steaks for dinner, so I’ll have some nice bones for you.” Since Mutti had only picked at her food the past week, there were sure to be some mashed potatoes and a biscuit or two, as well.
The unmistakable squeal of the barn door rollers brought the visit to an abrupt close. She’d have to send the dog away and get back to the garden plot quickly.
Footfalls coming around the corner of the empty cabin startled her. She froze. Her gaze came to rest on the toes of two dusty leather boots. Small boots. She looked up and heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, Quon. It’s you. I was afraid it was James.”
She shot a glance at Spitz and back at Quon. “I know this handsome fellow’s not supposed to be here, but I’ll be going into town tomorrow. While I’m there, I’ll ask around to see if I can find him a home. He’s a nice dog and would make a fine pet.”
“Yes. He nice dog. Look good.” Quon dropped to one knee and ran his hand over the dog’s silky fur. “I put food in dish. He like to eat.”
“You knew about him and have been feeding him, too? But what about James? If he finds out I’ve encouraged the dog to stick around...”
Quon scanned the area, looking everywhere but at Spitz. “I not see anything.”
She was so grateful to the older man that she fought the urge to give him a daughterly hug. “Oh, Quon, I can’t thank you enough, but I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
He smiled. “It no trouble, Miss Becky. You wait. Boss will let dog stay.”
“I want to believe that, but when James makes up his mind about something, it’s hard to change it.” If she’d learned one thing the past week, it was that he had his way of doing things and didn’t take kindly to anyone questioning him.
