Linnea nodded and set to work. She did know how to cook, no matter what Will Tucker thought. She'd cooked for her father and she'd cooked for her husband and the men with whom he rode. Cooking for more shouldn't be so difficult. After gathering eggs from the henhouse, she inquired as to where supplies were kept and sliced bacon and grated potatoes.
Maybe when the man saw how capable she was, he'd change his mind and let her stay. He had to let her stay. She had nowhere else to go. And time was running short.
Chapter Two
Will wiped lather from his face and rinsed his freshly shaven cheeks with last night's cold water. He imagined he smelled coffee, and his mouth watered. As he shrugged into a stiff, wrinkled shirt, he smelled the appealing aroma of frying bacon drifting up the stairwell. After only five hours of sleep, his weary brain could probably conjure up anything.
As if he wasn't behind enough in his work, today he had to take that presumptuous girl back to Denver. He'd lose another four days. This time he'd find a man to cook for the hands. That shouldn't be so difficult. But that still left him with the problem of Aggie.
Aggie had been a thorn in his side since he was thirteen, and things hadn't changed. His father had married her only a year after Will's mother died. Will had resented him bringing her to their home, just as he'd resented being forced to work in his demanding father's lumber mill from a young age. And Aggie hadn't helped the situation. She'd never liked him, and she'd never pretended she had. Will was Jack
Tucker's flesh-and-blood son, and she'd never given Jack children.
The older he got, the more Will realized she was afraid of him, thinking he had more influence as Jack's only son than she did as his second wife. Damned foolish thinking, because all Will had ever wanted was to get away from the mill to work with horses and cattle. At fifteen he'd had enough of his father's bullying and took off on his first cattle drive.
The first couple of years he'd gambled and whored his pay away like all the other drovers. Finally he'd considered his future and decided to save for a spread of his own. Riding herd was hard work. He'd taken a few winters off to marshal and had spent three years as an army scout during the war. He'd been breaking horses in Abilene when news of his father's death had reached him.
He'd made it to Indiana for the funeral, and he could still remember the fear and loathing on Aggie's face when he'd gone to the house. She had promptly ordered him out. "You never cared enough to show your face when your father was alive. Don't come sniffing around like a vulture now that he's gone."
Will had stayed at a hotel, attended the funeral, and tolerated Aggie's glares until the day the will was read.
Jack Tucker had left the house to Will, huge shares of railroad stock and other investments to Corinne, and the mill to another son—an illegitimate son none of them had known about.
Aggie's shock and indignation had been unleashed in a fury of bitter name-calling. She had fully expected Will to throw her out on her ear. It had been his legal right.
But he hadn't. As hateful as she'd been to him, he pitied her the scandal she had to accept. She had no way to support herself, but he was young and strong and capable. He'd signed the house over to her and returned to the cattle and horses he understood better than people.
It had taken him another ten years to earn the money for his ranch. He hadn't felt betrayed about the sawmill, because he hadn't stayed and helped his father run it. He had no right to inherit. What he felt betrayed by was the fact that the half brother he'd never known about was only two years younger than himself. He'd been born while Will's mother was still alive and had grown up in a city a hundred miles away.
Will washed shaving lather from his face and carried the bowl of dirty water downstairs. The aromatic smell of bacon struck him fully and he knew he couldn't have imagined it.
He stopped just inside the kitchen doorway and surveyed the transformed room. Every surface—even the floor—had been scrubbed. On the tabletop, steam rose from platters of bacon, grated fried potatoes and eggs fried with crispy brown edges.
Roy Jonjack hit the back door the same time that Will stopped and stared. Their eyes met over the table. It was Roy's week to cook, but he'd never put on a spread like this. His expression was as confused as Will knew his own must be.
"Is there a dinner bell?"
The timid voice came from the mousy woman in the brown dress and shawl. Will turned his puzzled gaze on her.
"I didn't know how to call everyone in to eat," she said.
"I'll do it." Roy turned for the door and whistled, an ear-piercing sound that made the little mouse cringe.
She'd done all this? Cooked breakfast, scrubbed the kitchen? Even a cozy fire burned in the fireplace, taking the morning chill from the room. Will took in the neatly organized shelves and the gleaming pans. She must have been up all night.
Aggie's cackle arrested his attention. She sat in her rocker by the crackling fire, her clothing neatly buttoned and arranged, her gray hair in an orderly bun. Will narrowed his gaze. What the hell did the woman think she was pulling? If she thought she could kill herself for one morning and get him to change his mind, she was sorely mistaken.
Boot heels hit the back porch and noisy men entered the room. One by one, as they discovered the bounteous breakfast and the blushing young woman, they quieted and doffed their hats, crowding the table for a seat.
"Mighty fine spread, ma'am."
"Best eggs I ever et."
"Don't these biscuits just melt in yer mouth, Clem?"
Will dumped his water out the back door and returned, setting the basin down with a bang on the wooden stand inside the door.
Nobody but the mouse moved, and she jumped from her position near the stove to turn and stare.
Will glared at her and took his seat.
She served him coffee, her hand trembling on the pot she held with a scorched flour sack wrapped around the handle.
Will was nobody's fool. Her attempt to sway him wasn't going to work. But this mouthwatering food was ready and he hadn't had to cook it, so he was going to make the most of it. He helped himself to the platters that were passed and savored the best meal he'd tasted in months. Even the coffee was brewed to his liking, with nary a ground in the bottom of his cup.
"Miz McConaughy's a mighty fine cook, boss," Nash said in an attempt to appease Will. "Did you try her biscuits?"
"One meal doesn't prove she'd stand up to the workload," Will replied, unmoved by the flaky golden biscuit on the edge of his heaping plate. He didn't look over at her because he didn't want to see the edge of fear in her eyes.
He did observe his men, though, and they were cutting him sidelong looks of disgust as they dug into the feast, their displeasure no secret. It was obvious they all thought a delivering angel had descended into their midst. Will knew better.
And Aggie. Damn the woman! She'd been wearing an irritating smirk and rocking smugly since he'd entered the kitchen. She loved nothing more than to see him with his tail feathers in a knot.
The men lingered over their enamelware cups of coffee longer than usual, complimenting the cook and shooting daggers in Will's direction.
"This isn't a holiday," he said finally, glowering at each sun-burnished face. "You've got work to do, and I've got a trip to make."
Nash stood. "Much obliged, Miz McConaughy."
He grabbed up his hat and exited, and the others followed, grumbling.
When they were alone, Will set down his cup. "Be ready in an hour." He jerked his head in her direction to make sure she'd heard. She was placing a pan in the tub of sudsy dishwater, her back to him. "Understood?"
She turned her face so that he could see her cheek, but so that she didn't have to meet his eyes. "An hour. Yes."
Will got to his feet, and ignoring Aggie's maddening sounds of amusement, grabbed his hat before heading out into the growing daylight.
Discouraged, Linnea hurried through the cleanup, not allowing herself time to think about he
r fate. She had promised Aggie a bath if she had enough time, and she meant to keep her promise.
She'd been heating water, but finding the tub in a room off the kitchen and filling it took another fifteen minutes. She added boiling water and after checking the temperature, gathered towels and soap and assisted Aggie to the room, out of her clothing and into the water.
The old woman was stooped and withered, her skin hanging on her bones and her spine hunched into an almost inhuman posture. Linnea couldn't help but feel sympathy for her loss of independence, but Aggie kept her dignity, issuing orders and cackling over Will's predicament, which seemed to please her to no end. Back aching, Linnea lathered Aggie's hair and scrubbed her scalp, wondering when she would next get a bath herself.
Aggie closed her eyes after a few minutes and Linnea allowed her to take her small pleasure in the luxurious feel of the hot water. "We'd better get you dried and dressed before Mr. Tucker comes back," she told her finally. "I have to be ready to leave."
She brought Aggie clean clothing from her room and helped her into it, running a comb through her wet hair and draping toweling across her shoulders to absorb the moisture.
Just as she had Aggie settled in her rocker again, the back door slammed open and Will Tucker's boots stomped across the wooden floor. "You ready?"
Linnea pointed to the small side room. "I need to empty the tub."
Will's penetrating deep-blue gaze moved across Linnea's baggy dress, darkened by wet spots, to Aggie, who sat dressed in clean clothing with her wiry gray hair drying.
"I'll do it later. Where are your things?"
With resignation, Linnea nodded to her bag beside the door.
Abruptly, he turned and picked up the bag. "Let's go."
Linnea gave Aggie a timid smile. "Bye."
The old woman's wrinkled lips pursed and she returned a weak-wristed wave. "Thank you, girl."
Legs and feet weighing like lead, Linnea followed the broad-shouldered man to the wagon that sat in the yard, two shiny dark horses hitched to the traces.
He reached for her and she sidled away instinctively. Glaring, he took a deliberate step back, giving her plenty of space. She couldn't quite reach the running board, though, so it was with reluctance that she accepted his laced fingers as a step.
Settled on the seat, she waited for him to climb up. He stared at her, but she didn't meet his eyes.
"Where's your hat?" he asked.
"I lost it."
"Lost your hat?"
She nodded. The old thing hadn't been much of a bonnet, but it had protected her head. It had disappeared weeks ago during her train excursion. She suspected a young girl who'd sat beside her between Kansas towns had taken it while Linnea slept. The girl must have needed it worse than she did, she'd told herself.
"Don't you have a scarf or something?"
She shook her head.
"Don't think I'm giving up my hat," he warned.
"I don't."
Sensing him moving away, she turned to watch him stomp toward the house. His dark hair reached beneath his hat and hung in a wave over his collar, all the way to his broad shoulders. His legs were long and he covered the ground and took the stairs in half the steps it would have taken her. When he appeared carrying a straw hat, she looked away quickly. He stopped beside her and raised his arm. "Here."
Linnea sized up the hat with skepticism. "What's that?"
"Aggie has more hats than she needs."
"Did she say that?"
"She said you could have it. So take it."
Knowing that wearing a head covering was wise, Linnea accepted the hat. Briefly, she admired the artificial daisies decorating the brim, then placed it on her head and tied the wide sash beneath her chin.
He seated himself beside her and released the brake.
"Tell Aggie thank you," she said.
Flicking the reins over the horses' backs, Will pretended not to notice Linnea wincing as the animals jerked. the wagon forward.
The little mouse said nothing. For miles she said nothing, just rode in silence, stoically gripping the side of the wooden seat for balance when the wheels hit stones or ruts. Aggie would have given him a tongue-lashing for her discomfort, and even Corinne would have kicked a time or two. But not this one. She rode with her gaze straight ahead, her lips clamped shut.
He thought about how clean the kitchen had been and wondered how early she'd gotten up to accomplish that—or if she'd ever gone to bed at all. "Just because you cleaned the kitchen and cooked breakfast and gave Aggie a bath doesn't mean I'm obliged to hire you."
She didn't flicker an eyelash, just dispassionately studied a hillside forested with cedar and pinon trees. "I know.''
He wasn't used to silent acquiescence. If she had argued with him, he'd have been able to make his point and convince her he was right. If she thought the silent treatment would make him change his mind, she was wrong about that, too. She was all wrong. Period.
She sat as far to the right as she could, trying ineffectively to keep her skirts from touching his leg. From time to time, when the wagon lurched, their elbows bumped, and each time she jerked her arm away as if his was a glowing branding iron.
Every so often, under the guise of studying the landscape, Will cast a glance at her profile. The straw bonnet shaded her face well, but he couldn't help noticing her tiredness and the circles beneath her dark-lashed eyes. She wore another baggy brown dress and the same shawl she'd worn yesterday.
He turned and glanced at their things beneath the tarpaulin in the back of the wagon, and couldn't think of a woman he'd ever known who could take a trip, let alone move to another state, with so few possessions. The provisions he'd packed for the trip occupied more space than her one small battered bag. "If you've had trunks shipped, you'll have to give me a forwarding address."
She turned her face toward him finally. "Pardon me?"
She wasn't so bad to look at, he surmised. Her features were even and her nose was small. Her eyes, beneath dark brows, were a warm golden brown. "Your things. Did you have baggage shipped separately to the train station?"
She avoided him by looking toward the purple mountains in the distance. A startled woodpecker darted from a ravine filled with wild blackberry bushes, and she watched its flight. "No. No baggage."
"You lost them, too?"
Her cheeks turned a deep pink, but she said nothing, merely shook her head.
Why the hell was he trying to talk to her? He could care less where she was going, as long as she wouldn't be a problem for him.
Shortly after noon, he pulled alongside a grove of cottonwoods flourishing beside a gurgling clear stream and climbed down. When he came around to assist her, she stared uneasily at his shoulder, so he backed away to let her manage on her own. Never had he met a woman so skittish and independent. The females he'd known loved to be catered to and pampered.
He pulled bread and cheese from a saddlebag and spread a blanket on the ground in the shade. She probably needed to rest a few minutes before going on.
He filled two tin cups and a canteen while she made a discreet trip behind a dense thicket of rabbit bush. A few minutes later, she seated herself rather awkwardly on the blanket.
Will pushed the food and drink over to her.
She glanced at it, but looked away. "I'm not hungry-"
"It's a long day and we won't stop again until dark."
Accepting the cup, she took several long deep swallows, but didn't make a move toward the meal.
"Eat the food," he ordered, looking at the top of the hat which was all she presented to him.
She didn't raise her head. "I cleaned the kitchen to pay for yesterday's meal and for the bed last night." She glanced away, further avoiding his scrutiny. "I won't have an opportunity to earn this meal."
Something unfamiliar moved in Will's chest at her words and her evasiveness. "You earned more than one meal and one night. That kitchen was filthy. You took care of Aggie, too."
; "Yes?" She raised her head and looked at him straight on finally, studied him as if to gauge his sincerity. In this light her eyes were the most unusual color. A hazel-like golden brown with a hint of green, fringed with thick, dark lashes.
He gave a single nod. "Eat."
She picked up the cheese with reverence. "Thank you."
The way she ate, a man would think she'd been given a king's fare. She chewed slowly, as though savoring each bite, and after watching her, Will slowed down his own eating. He hadn't noticed her sit down at breakfast. Had she eaten before or after the men—or had she eaten at all?
Not finishing her portion, she took a clean handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped her leftover bread and cheese, presumably for later in the afternoon. Will watched her tuck the small bundle away. The remains of her lunch disappeared into a huge pocket on her voluminous baggy skirt.
She wore a long garment, much like a man's shirt, that added to the impression of how skinny she was under all those dowdy clothes. Combined with the ever-present shawl, her clothing would appall a fashion-minded woman. What had Corinne seen in her? he couldn't help wondering.
The journey wore on into the afternoon and finally she removed the shawl and folded it into a neat square that she sat on when she thought he wasn't looking. She didn't even have enough meat on her bones to protect her skinny butt from the bludgeoning wagon seat.
Will didn't attempt conversation. He felt no need to entertain or befriend her. When the late sun glowed orange in the western sky, he glanced over to find her chin resting on her chest, her eyes closed.
Locating a wooded area protected from wind and weather and close to a stream, he stopped the wagon and unharnessed the horses. He led them to the grassy bank and stood holding the lead ropes until they'd drank. Then he staked them on a patch of grass.
The mouse had climbed down and was moving stiffly, gathering dry wood and moss. When he grew close, she jumped and looked up. "Is—is it okay to have a fire?"
"Of course." Why wouldn't it be okay to have a fire? "We have to make coffee, and it'll get chilly after the sun's been down a while."
The Tenderfoot Bride Page 2
