The Housekeeper's Proposal

by Barbara Goss

“Yes, certainly,” she answered. “I’d like that.”

  “Good,” Jeremy said. “Each morning we’ll discuss household matters, but after dinner, tea will be in here—with dessert—and we’ll discuss the case.”

  “You’re on,” Kate said and held out her hand to shake on the deal. Jeremy, however, took her hand and kissed the back of it instead.

  “It’s a legally binding contract now,” he said, his eyes sparkling with humor.

  “I’d like to accompany you on your ride around the property, but I don’t want to arouse suspicion we’re working together, so I won’t, but please, be careful,” he said.

  “No need to worry.” She hiked up her skirt a few inches and removed a six-shooter from her boot. “No need at all.”

  She watched Jeremy’s eyes widen. “Do you know how to use that?”

  “I can shoot as good as my brother,” she said.

  “I believe you—tuck it away, please!” he laughed. “Remind me to keep on your good side, Kate.”

  The next morning, after Jeremy had left for work, Kate planned her dinner menu, took out the necessary ingredients, and headed out to saddle a horse. She’d donned her riding skirt under her apron, and while she knew Jeremy had noticed it, he knew why she’d worn it, which made things easier than if she’d had to hide it.

  When she entered the stable she was surprised to see Griff there looking at the ropes hanging on the walls.

  “Griff! What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to match the rope that strangled Helen.”

  “You think it’s one of those?”

  “Might be,” he said. “I may need to take them back with me. According to the coroner, the rope made a distinctive pattern on Helen’s neck that will make it easy to match the rope to her murder.”

  “So what happens if one of those ropes match?”

  “Then Walker’s our man,” he said.

  “Wait—there are other people here who have access to those ropes.”

  “True, but it will sure narrow down the field, won’t it?”

  “The more I hear from his employees, the more I’m certain Jeremy is innocent, Griff.”

  “What? You were supposed to come here to help me find him guilty,” he said.

  “Yes, but I’m finding out he isn’t.”

  “I can’t believe it! You’re falling for his charm, aren’t you?” Griff asked in accusing tone.

  “That’s ridiculous. He’s been a perfect gentleman around me.”

  “He’d better be,” he said.

  “I’m not taking any of these ropes back with me. The rope marks on Helen’s neck indicated a rope with a finer pattern than these thick ones. Are there any thinner ropes around?’’

  “Not that I know of. I’ll keep my eyes open for something thinner,” she said.

  Griff cuffed her chin lightly. “Don’t let me down, sis.”

  After Griff had left, she saddled a horse and rode out to the far perimeters of the property. She didn’t see anything unusual, just fields, stones, some grazing cattle, and a few trees. Then she came upon a man bent down near the ground close to a fence. She reached down to her boot, felt for her gun, and approached him slowly. The man turned and she let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “Hello, again, Abe,” she said.

  “Howdy, Miss Kate,” he said as he stood and removed his hat.

  “I’m just out for a leisurely ride around the place,” she said. “Looks like you’re mending a fence.”

  “Yep. Not sure what keeps knocking them down—the weather, or the animals,” he said. “I seem to spend a lot of time mending them.”

  “I’ll leave you to your work. Nice talking to you, Abe.”

  He waved as she progressed across the property line marked by the very fence Abe was mending.

  She cantered to the west end of the property where she was able to vaguely see the old house where she grew up. She wondered if it could still be vacant or if someone had bought it from the bank after they’d lost it. Though she was tempted to ride out and see, she knew it was growing late and she had cooking to do; she wanted to surprise Mr. Walker with her chicken and dumplings. He appreciated her cooking and had remarked so favorably on it, that it spurred her to cook even better dishes; he was a cook’s delight.

  She’d put the chicken in the oven earlier to let it roast for a few hours before she’d shred it into her special dumpling sauce, which she had yet to make. Then she’d whip up the dumplings in no time and drop them into the chicken and sauce. She couldn’t wait to see Mr. Walker’s delight when he tasted it.

  As she trotted along the west property line, she spotted another break in the fence—a large break. Should she ride back and let Abe know about it? Would she have the time? She doubted Mr. Walker would mind if dinner was a few minutes late, so she trotted back to where she’d seen Abe.

  “Abe,” she called. He jumped as if startled by her reappearance.

  “Yes, miss,” he said.

  “I just noticed a large break in the west fence. I thought I’d report it in case you hadn’t noticed it,” she said.

  “I’ll check on it, miss. Thank you for letting me know,” he said. “Looks like I’ll be fixing that one tomorrow.”

  Her chicken and dumplings turned out perfectly, and she couldn’t wait to see Mr. Walker’s face when he tasted it. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the dining room and realized Mr. Walker was late.

  Jeremy sat in front of Horace Monroe’s desk, in need of legal advice. He’d just finished telling him the events of the other day when Helen’s body had been found.

  “I’m not sure, but it could be good news, rather than incriminating,” Monroe said. “Any number of people could vouch for your whereabouts that day, couldn’t they?”

  “Definitely. In fact, Griff’s already checked on that. Everyone saw me leave, and since I leave at just about the same time every day, it became a dead end for Griff Hammond. He’s like a dog chasing a cat—he never lets up, not even after the cat’s climbed up the tree,” Jeremy said.

  “Who do you think killed her?” Monroe asked.

  “If I knew I wouldn’t be here.”

  “I wish I could be of more help to you, but if things get worse, you may have to seek a criminal lawyer.”

  “Yes, but you know enough about the law to give me a bit of advice. Is there a criminal lawyer in Hays?”

  Monroe scratched his balding head. “No, you’d have to ride to Selena—I think they have one there. I know Kansas City has several.”

  Jeremy sighed. “That’s a long ride.”

  “How are you making out with your new housekeeper?” Monroe asked with a grin.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not in the least bit interested in her in that way. She’s a fantastic cook, and I’m definitely going to keep her,” he said. “She’s pretty scenery, though, I have to admit, but our relationship is strictly professional and I hope to keep it that way.”

  “Good luck with that,” Monroe said, giving Jeremy a knowing grin. “Do you really want her to stay on, or is your intention to put a bee in Griff’s bonnet by keeping her? I hear he’s madder than a wet hornet and that he ate at Rosie’s eating-house three times last week.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but the best swords are double-edged,” Jeremy said.

  “Speaking of her cooking, I need to get home to see what she has on the stove today. Everything she’s served so far has been simply heavenly.”

  “She’s also beautiful and the sheriff’s sister—keep that in mind, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy walked into the house, smiling when the aroma of what was cooking reached him. He washed up quickly and almost ran to the kitchen.

  “What smells so delightful?” he asked Kate who was stirring a pot on the stove. Her apron was pulled tightly around her, showing off her tiny waist. He had to steel himself from coming up behind her, putting his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. If she were his wife, th
at’s what he’d do. He shook that thought from his head. Keep it professional, Jeremy, he told himself.

  “Chicken and dumplings,” she said.

  “If it tastes half as good as it smells, I’m in for a treat,” he said, taking a seat at the table.

  He told himself all the way home that he had to stop thinking of Kate as anything but a housekeeper and cook. The two of them could never happen, for more than one reason, including his reputation, her brother, and the fact that if things didn’t go right he’d lose the best housekeeper he’d ever had. Yet the minute she walked to the table carrying his dish, his heart began to pound in his chest. Why did she always have that effect on him?

  He looked at the plate she’d set before him and his mouth nearly watered. As she walked back toward the stove, he started to shovel the chicken and dumplings into his mouth. He’d have to pinch himself to be sure he hadn’t died and gone to heaven.

  When Kate returned with a hot biscuit, he waved it off.

  “I don’t want a biscuit. I’d rather have seconds of the chicken and dumplings. Kate, you’ve outdone yourself. You should really open up an eating-house—but not too soon,” he added quickly.

  “Do you really think I could do well if I ran an eating-house? It’s a thought. After all, I don’t want to be a housekeeper all of my life. I’ll keep that in mind when I earn enough to start one.”

  Though Jeremy had promised himself he wouldn’t, he asked her anyway, “Will you join me?”

  “No, I eat with the maids, but I’ll be taking tea and dessert in the sitting room with you soon.” She walked away, leaving him wishing he’d kept his promise and hadn’t asked.

  Chapter 9

  Jeremy waited in the sitting room for Kate, thinking about the murder. It really didn’t have to end that way for poor Helen, and he felt guilty in a way. Should he have tried to make it a real marriage even though he could never love her? Would that have been fair? Or should the blame be laid at her father’s feet for having forced her into a marriage neither of them wanted?

  What could he have done differently to spare Helen that awful fate? He had told her that she could get an annulment several times, and if she had agreed, they could have filed for it together. She didn’t have to go running off like she did. The one time he’d yelled back at her happened to have been the last time he saw her, which was why he felt guilty.

  He looked up from his contemplating when Kate walked in carrying a tea tray. She set it down on the table in front of the sofa and Jeremy could only stare.

  “I couldn’t possibly eat that,” he said.

  Kate frowned. “Why not? I made it just for you. Geraldine said lemon pie was your favorite.”

  “It is, but I’m stuffed from the two helpings of my dinner, I couldn’t possibly…well, maybe just a sliver of a piece,” he said.

  Kate smiled. “Here,” she handed him the knife. “Cut the size you want.”

  “Kate,” he said, “next time I ask for seconds, please, tell me no.”

  “All right.” She laughed.

  “Can I take a large piece of this pie to work tomorrow?” he asked.

  “You can take the whole pie,” she said. “I made two. Maybe some of your employees would like some.”

  “It’s fantastic,” he said. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “My mother died young and my paternal grandmother raised Griff and I, along with my father, of course. We all lived together. I sat and watched her in the kitchen from the time I could sit on a stool by myself.”

  “I’m going to have to get more physical exercise if I’m going to continue to eat like this,” Jeremy said. “How about taking a walk with me before it gets dark?” Again, he’d broken a promise to himself. How could he be so strong at the lumberyard and so weak around Kate?

  “I also need exercise, I must admit,” Kate said, patting her flat stomach. “I’ve been overeating myself, so I’ll take you up on it. In fact, maybe we could do it each evening since it would be better to discuss the crime without anyone overhearing.”

  “Fantastic idea,” he said.

  Jeremy led Kate out the front door and together they walked toward the road.

  “I inspected your property today, and on the west end, I could actually see the house where I once lived,” Kate said. “Do you know if anyone is living there?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s walk down that way and see,” he said.

  They walked side by side without touching. Jeremy had been tempted to put his arm out for her to take but then thought better of it—no sense in tempting fate. He had to keep their relationship professional, but it got harder each day.

  The dirt road wound around a curve, and the house came into view about a half-mile away.

  “So many memories,” she said. “My father died in the sitting room and my grandmother in one of the bedrooms. I wish we could buy it back, now that you own the land next to us. Would you have allowed our sheep to drink from your creek?”

  “Of course I would have. The creek runs so close to the property you owned, the sheep wouldn’t have had to cross but a tiny corner of the property. I’d have moved the fence on an angle so the sheep could come and go as they pleased and not veer into the cattle’s grazing area at all.”

  “I wish you’d owned it then,” she said wistfully.

  “Let me tell you about my father,” he said. “Amos Walker grew into an angry, belligerent man, who took his anger out on nearly everyone by being ornery. He blamed everyone for every misfortune he had; nothing was ever his fault. I buried him a few months ago and had mixed feelings. He might have been difficult to live with, but I never hated him—the Bible clearly states that we should honor our parents…without exception.”

  “Do you read the Bible?” she asked.

  “Yes. I believe it to be the true word of God, and I try to live by it.”

  “Why do you think your father harbored so much anger?”

  “I think he was born angry, but it got worse every time misfortune hit him. According to my grandmother, it worsened the day my mother died after a horse accident. He bought a huge, wild stallion, and my mother kept telling him to get rid of it. The horse exhibited wild, frightful behavior, and no one seemed to be able to train him, but my father refused to part with him. One day, while my mother was leading another horse into the corral, somehow the stallion got out of his stall, charged, and trampled my mother.”

  “Oh, no!” Kate exclaimed, touching his arm. “How old were you?”

  “Five. I think the guilt made my father even angrier, and he got nastier as time progressed. He also carried guilt around since he couldn’t recall if he’d left the horse stall unlatched, or if someone else had. He never remarried, but he did have a…a…friend. Mrs. Carpenter, who owns the Buckhorn Saloon in town was…um…close to him.”

  Kate removed her hand from his arm, but he could see the sympathy in her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Walker.”

  “Do you think when we’re alone like this, you might possibly call me Jeremy?”

  She smiled. “I don’t see the harm in it.”

  “Jeremy, your childhood must have been sad, what with a mean father and no mother. Did your grandmother live with you to allay your father’s anger?”

  “Yes, but only until I reached the age of nine when she died of a heart seizure.”

  “Oh, no,” Kate said.

  They were now in front of the house, which looked empty to Jeremy. He walked as close as he dared with her.

  “I’m not sure if we should get any closer until we’re sure no one is living there. It wouldn’t do to trespass,” he said.

  “There’s a broken window on the side,” she said. “If someone is living there, wouldn’t they cover it?”

  “You’d think so, yes. Wait here—I’ll give it a quick check. Get ready to run,” he said with a laugh.

  He left Kate on the road in front of the house while he went around to the side to peer into the window.
He didn’t see anyone and some of the furniture looked dusty. Some of it tipped was over.

  “Hello?” he called into the house, unsure what he’d say if someone answered. He walked back to the road.

  “It’s getting dark,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll come here earlier and check inside. If no one’s here, you can walk around and unpack some memories.”

  “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I only work until noon on Saturday. My foreman keeps the yard open until five, but only for selling lumber. The mill itself is closed all weekend,” he explained.

  As Kate walked alongside Jeremy, she still felt sympathy for his rough childhood. She couldn’t imagine how he’d turned out so well. Just knowing these facts about him made her feel closer to him, and knowing his past helped her to understand him better. And he was a Bible reader—how could anyone who followed the Bible so strictly that he couldn’t hate a horribly mean father ever kill anyone?

  They walked back mostly in silence. She pictured Jeremy as a little boy who had been reared by a monster. He must have been heartbroken when his grandmother passed away. She felt the need, deep inside her, to demonstrate some type of gesture to show she cared about him. She slipped her arm through his as they walked. He looked at her in surprise but didn’t say anything, she felt him squeeze her arm closer to his side.

  “I also ran into Abe, mending a fence between the east and west ends of the property,” she said as they walked. “As I continued on, I saw a very large break in the fence on the west end, so I rode back to let him know. He said he’d fix it tomorrow.”

  “The fence needs to be replaced. Who’d believe I own a lumberyard and my wooden fence is in such a sorry state? I’ll have to see about replacing the whole thing,” he told her.

  “Have the chickens been laying better?” he asked.

  “Yes, I got ten eggs this morning.”

  “Good,” he said. “Any other problems?”

  “No. I checked Helen’s room briefly, but found nothing important. I plan to check it more thoroughly later.” She looked up at him and said with a grimace, “That was the night I ran into you in the hallway.”