Legacy of Honor

by Renae Brumbaugh Green

  The glare Allison gave her could melt an Arctic iceberg. But Emma was no pushover, and though she was grateful for the opportunity to work, she could make $1.40 a day at the factory in town—not that she wanted to work in a sweatshop. But if she was going to put up with the likes of Allison Stratton, she would be appropriately compensated.

  Davis chose that moment to let out a piercing wail, and Allison looked like she might melt, or explode, or some messy combination of the two. “Oh, all right. But can you please start now?”

  Emma smiled in what she hoped was a gracious and humble manner. “Certainly. I’ll just need to see to my horse.”

  With a curt nod, Allison bolted toward the sound of the child’s misery. Emma made a note to thank little Davis with an extra cookie, first chance she got.

  Lost in waves of immense satisfaction, she turned toward the front entrance, only to run head-on into a wide expanse of chambray fabric, buttoned tightly at the chest. A slight tilt of her head revealed the shirt was attached to Riley Stratton.

  “Well done, Miss Monroe. Although I fear you’ll be wasting your talents working here. With your bargaining skills, you’d be better off in a boardroom somewhere. Or a courtroom. You could be the town’s first lady lawyer.”

  Emma’s face spiked with the heat of humiliation, though she had no reason to be embarrassed. She’d only done what was necessary to make sure she and Pa and Lyndel were properly cared for. Still, the idea that Riley had overheard her being so bold with his sister-in-law made her want to run and hide.

  Instead, she took a couple of steps backward. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stratton. I wasn’t aware I had an audience. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to Sugar—my horse—so I can get started.”

  To her mortification, he followed her out the front door like they were old chums. Which they were, sort of. But this wasn’t a school spelling contest or a game of stickball. She needed this job.

  “I’ll take care of your horse and buggy if you’ll talk to me for a minute.” Riley’s voice hummed close behind her.

  She lengthened her stride. “Thank you, Mr. Stratton. You’re very kind, but I can take care of Sugar myself. I don’t want to trouble you.”

  Riley moved in front of her, blocked her path. “Look, Emma. Can we just lay aside the formalities for a minute? It’s me. Riley. The fellow you love to hate.”

  That brought a little smile to her face, against her will. But she kept her eyes downcast.

  “Look at me.”

  He stood so close now, she could smell his scented shave lotion, and the musky smell made her uncomfortable in a most satisfying way. Tilting her head back, she did as he asked. Or was that a command?

  “I just want to know how you are.”

  She looked down again and moved to the side. She didn’t want to tell him how she was. Saying it out loud made it more real. “I’m doing as well as can be expected, I suppose. Breathing in. Breathing out. Then I breathe in again.”

  “I understand.”

  Yes, he did understand. She remembered all too well when Mrs. Stratton died. Riley had been just fourteen. Emma was eleven. He didn’t smile much for a whole year after it happened. But eventually, he became the same prank-pulling, mischief-making Riley, leaving a string of broken hearts in his wake. More subdued, perhaps...but time had healed his spirit some.

  The way Emma felt now, she wasn’t sure that would ever happen for her. How could her spirit—shattered in a million pieces, crushed beyond repair—ever recover?

  “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Stratton...Riley. And I know that you of all people can appreciate what I’m feeling. But I really do need this job, and if I don’t get in there soon, I’ll be here all night washing dishes.”

  He laughed, the deep belly laugh she remembered. The laugh that caused many a wide-eyed, lovestruck girl to make a fool of herself. Good thing Emma had always had the good sense to keep her feelings hidden.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” he said. “We’ve left quite a mess in there. Well, you held up your end of the bargain by talking to me, so now it’s my turn. I’ll put your horse and buggy in the carriage house and make sure Sugar is fed and watered. Then I’m off to town. Good day, Miss Monroe.”

  He bowed an overstated, sweeping dip that was more circus clown than gentleman, and moved toward the buggy.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, but he probably didn’t hear.

  She started to return the way she’d come, then thought better of it and walked around the house to the back entrance. She certainly hoped Riley Stratton would stay in town a long time. Because if the feelings churning in her gut were any indication, she’d have a hard time concentrating on any task as long as he was around. She may desperately need this job, but she needed Riley Stratton’s flirtations like she needed an abscessed tooth.

  Riley watched Emma until she turned the corner, head up, shoulders back. His heart nearly split in two. Watching her like this brought back all the memories of his own grief, as fresh as if it were yesterday and not nearly eight years ago. He felt that vice on his gut, squeezing away his appetite. That familiar anvil pressed on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

  But it was more than that. He wished he could make Emma understand...her mother had been there for him when no one else was. He grieved for Sally Monroe. Perhaps his grief wasn’t as deep as Emma’s, but it was real, just the same.

  He’d be there for Emma and her family, just as Mrs. Monroe had been there for him. The fact that Emma’s eyes were the color of new spring grass, her hair the shade of sun-kissed wheat, and her dimples could coax a smile out of a bawling calf would only make his job more pleasant.

  He climbed onto the buggy and clicked to Sugar, and his eyes fell on a lacey embroidered handkerchief. He picked it up, and the words stitched there caused his chest to tighten. “My daughter, my friend.”

  She would surely want this. It must have fallen from her pocket, or that bag thing women carried...what was it called? A reticule. He folded it neatly and tucked it into his shirt pocket, then guided the horse into the carriage house.

  Ten minutes later, he walked into the kitchen to find Emma elbow-deep in suds, with one corner of one countertop cleared. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “I thought you were going to town.” She pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, smearing bubbles in the process.

  He wanted to reach out and set her hair aright, but he didn’t dare. What was his reason for coming here? Oh, the handkerchief. He pulled the cloth from his pocket and held it out. “I found this in the buggy. I thought you might want it with you.”

  Her eyes grew large, and she reached into her pocket, only to find it empty. “Oh, my. Yes. Thank you.” She dried her hands on a nearby rag before taking the cloth and replacing it in her pocket.

  “Your mother was always special to me…”

  “Riley Stratton, I thought you left an hour ago!” Allison emerged from the shadows, and Emma jumped enough to nearly tip over the wash bucket. How long had Allison been standing there?

  “I was detained.” Riley started to thrust his hands in his pocket, but instead forced them to his sides and stood a little taller. He would not give Allison the upper hand.

  She looked at him, then at Emma, then back at him. “I see. Well, please don’t bother the help. We’re paying her a small fortune, and I for one want to make sure we get our money’s worth.”

  Riley just stood there, looking at his sister-in-law. What in the name of good sense had Colt ever seen in this woman, beyond a pretty face and form?

  Maybe that was the problem. Colt didn’t look past the surface. Well, one good thing would come of it. Riley would certainly never make that mistake. Not that Emma didn’t fit the bill in face and form. She possessed more elegance wearing an apron than Allison had in all her diamonds.

  What did it matter? Emma was a friend. Nothing more. There was no way she could become a Stratton. Emma was pure. Strattons were tainted. Emma was diamond. Stra
ttons were glass. It was the coat he wore, the mold he conformed to, like it or not.

  Other than trying to make Emma smile, other than lifting her sorrow a bit, he needed to remove her from his thoughts. A connection between them could never work.

  “Go on. Shoo.” Allison waved him away like he was a fly at a picnic. Emma went back to washing dishes as if no one else was in the room.

  Riley held up his hands in surrender and headed for his office. The trip to town could wait. He had things to do right here, right now. Number one on his list...pay a stack of bills larger than Miss Monroe’s one-year salary. Number two...attempt to forget about Miss Monroe.

  Number one turned out to be a far easier task.

  Chapter 2

  By lunchtime, Emma had made a decent dent in the kitchen—at least, she had enough cleared so she could prepare an adequate meal. Boiled potatoes with gravy, sausage, and collard greens. Oh, and a pan of cornbread.

  She quickly removed the remaining cups and saucers from the dining room and set them to soak, wiped the table and chairs, and set out fresh plates and flatware. If she’d had more time, she would have relished those dishes...with tiny pink roses and blue hyacinths painted around the border. They were the prettiest she’d ever seen. Would she ever own anything that lovely?

  Ma had touched these dishes, had washed and dried them with her own hands. That made them even lovelier. Ma...

  No. She couldn’t afford to linger in memories right now. Too much to do, and Allison watched her like a circling buzzard, waiting for her next meal.

  But Riley’s words from earlier niggled at Emma’s mind. Your mother was always special to me… Of course she would be, though Emma had never thought of it before. Ma and Mrs. Stratton were friends from childhood. During Ma’s early years in the Stratton’s employ, she was more than just a servant. She’d been a companion and confidante to Riley’s mother. After Mrs. Stratton died, Ma came home in the evenings and talked about Riley. Funny, Riley was the only one of the Strattons she ever spoke of. It was as if the others didn’t exist.

  But when Ma figured out Emma was sweet on Riley, she wasted no time setting Emma straight. You and Riley come from two different worlds. Best not go wasting your thoughts on him.

  Ma’s warnings hadn’t kept Emma from her secret dreams, though. Silly dreams. Now that Emma was older, she could see Riley for exactly who he was—a philanderer and a flirt.

  But such a handsome one…

  She couldn’t let her heart betray her sense of reason. Good-looking or not, she would never subject herself to becoming just another notch on Riley Stratton’s belt. Ma had warned her, and she would take heed.

  “Smells delicious.” Riley’s voice pulled her from her reflections.

  She pressed a palm to her chest to still her racing heart. “Riley Stratton, if you don’t stop spying on me, I’ll…”

  “You’ll what?”

  Gracious and mercy. What was she thinking, speaking to him like that in his own home? “I’m sorry, Mr. Stratton. That was out of line. I guess I was just lost in my thoughts, and you startled me.”

  He leaned against the now-clean counter, then hopped up to take a seat on it. “Would you care to share those thoughts with me?”

  “I’m afraid they’d be just as confusing to you as they are to me.”

  Riley chuckled. “If you’re not going to share your thoughts, perhaps you’ll share a morsel of whatever smells so amazing. I make a very good taste-tester.”

  “I’m sure you do, but lunch is ready. I’m not sure how to go about gathering everyone for the meal, though.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. They’ll be here in about five minutes. Dad and Colt are never late for a meal.”

  “Promptness is an admirable quality,” she said. “So is keeping appropriate boundaries.”

  Riley, who had leaned closer to her while he spoke, sat back and held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “I’ll keep my distance from you, but I make no promises about this cornbread.” He grabbed a messy hunk of crumbling bread. She swatted at his hand, but he ducked. “I always was faster than you,” he said with a naughty-school-boy expression.

  That look. It started a longing in her chest, and she pulled her gaze away from him. Through the window, she noticed several men entering a long, low building about a hundred yards behind the house. “What about all the ranch hands? I didn’t prepare for them. I probably should have asked...”

  “They live in the bunkhouse, out back. They have their own stove, their own supplies. Those fellas take care of themselves. You’ll rarely see any of them up here, unless it’s Joe, the foreman. And Joe only comes if he has business to discuss with Dad.”

  Good thing he was giving her these details. The less she had to ask Allison, the better. “Along those same lines of good boundaries, could you please move aside so I can reach behind you?”

  For a moment, Riley’s eyes sparked, as if he would challenge her. But just as quickly, he hopped down and stepped to one side. “Pardon me, Miss Monroe.”

  She moved as far to the opposite side as she could, reached for the pretty bowl of boiled potatoes, and removed the cloth that covered them. Honestly. Was he going to be under her feet every day? Hopefully the novelty would wear off soon.

  A man’s voice echoed through the hall. “Allison! What are you doing there?”

  Allison moved from the shadows in the hallway just off the kitchen. “Not a thing. Just waiting for you...”

  A spike of frustration flared in Emma’s chest. Didn’t that woman have anything better to do than spy on her all day?

  John Stratton strode into view, followed by Colt. “It looked like you were...oh. I wasn’t aware we had...company.” The elder Mr. Stratton removed his hat and smiled, but something in his eyes didn’t look pleased. “I take it you’ve hired a replacement.” He looked around the kitchen, then inhaled deeply. “Smells delicious. I’m John Stratton...head of this motley clan.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Stratton.” Emma wasn’t sure whether to bow, curtsy, or just shake the man’s hand. It was such an odd introduction, for she knew perfectly well who John Stratton was, and he knew perfectly well who she was. And he’d never given her the time of day before this moment. She nodded, offered the sweetest smile she could muster, then turned toward the gravy boat that still needed to be set out.

  “Emma will be taking her mother’s place,” Allison said in a smirkish tone weighted with false compassion. “Isn’t that...wonderful?” Funny. She didn’t sound like she thought it was wonderful at all.

  “I’ll let you know after we eat.” Colt barely acknowledged her. Soon, all four adult Strattons were seated at the dining room table, digging into the meal in the most uncivilized civility Emma had ever witnessed.

  No prayer. No conversation. Everyone’s napkins were in their laps, their forks held just so... But the emptiness in the vast room made Emma squirm with discomfort.

  She didn’t know what was expected. Should she stay in the room, waiting to serve them? Disappear into the shadows? Maybe that was the reason for their aloof nature. They weren’t used to having someone else in the room. Emma slipped into the kitchen where she continued washing dishes as quietly as she could.

  “I’m not too happy you took it upon yourself to hire someone without consulting me, Allison.” John Stratton spoke in a low tone, but not so low Emma couldn’t hear. She made note of the way the sounds bounced off the walls. She needed to be careful with every word she said in this house.

  “Especially that woman,” Mr. Stratton continued. “First Donnigan comes home with all his shameful surprises, and now this.”

  “What do you mean by that woman?” Riley’s whispered words sprung off the vaulted ceiling, directly to her ears as clearly as if he’d spoken them inches from her.

  “You know what I mean. I only kept Sally Monroe on because your mother loved her. And I figured her presence was a comfort to you after your mother died. But now that the woman’s gone,
did Allison really need to bring her spawn into this home?”

  Emma froze. Had he really just said that?

  “I must admit, I can already see I’ve made a mistake.” Allison spoke in a normal tone, not even trying to whisper. “She showed up on the doorstep this morning begging for work. I could hardly turn her away. And now she’s done nothing but swoon over Riley since she arrived.”

  “Well, she sure can cook.” Colt sounded like his mouth was full as he spoke. “And from the looks of things, she’s done a little more than swoon. This is a different place. You can actually see the tops of the furniture, Al.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Allison hissed.

  “It means, she sure has cleaned things up, and this is the best meal I’ve had in weeks. I say we give her a raise.”

  Emma didn’t know whether to burst into tears or go dump the remainder of the gravy into John Stratton’s lap. That woman? Spawn? What on earth was he talking about?

  No amount of money was worth this kind of treatment. She had her pride, and that was that. She untied her apron, hung it on the hook, and as quietly as she could, exited the back door. She made it all the way to the carriage house and was in the process of hitching Sugar to the buggy when Riley appeared in the doorway.

  He studied her for a minute, but she ignored him. “I take it you heard all that?” His voice rumbled across the aisleway.

  She sent him a glare. “Lyndel and my pa probably heard it back at my place, Riley.”

  “Oh, so now I’m Riley? You always did let your defenses down when you were angry.”

  “Of course I’m angry.” She jerked hard on the strap she was buckling. Too bad he knew her so well. “I may be in need of a job, but I’m not that desperate. You can inform your sister-in-law she can send my half-day’s wages through the post. Good day, Mr. Stratton.”

  “Emma, please. I know my family can be difficult. Believe me, I have to live with them. But Pa’s always been sensitive when it comes to your family.”