“Well, I appreciate you sparing the floors,” Bailey said as she stepped over to a small closet and pulled out two folding chairs.
“These will do,” she said as she set them up. One on each side of the rug, so the men could sit to take off their boots.
Soon, the door was shut against the cold and two pairs of men’s boots were sitting on the top of the rug.
A few minutes more and all four of them—Bailey, Rosie, Mark and Josh—were seated at the old red Formica table in the kitchen with cups of hot chocolate in front of them. Eli had installed a bright light over that table and Bailey was grateful for it. The rest of the kitchen was in shadows now.
“I hope you’ll stay and eat with us,” Bailey said to Josh after they’d finished the cocoa. “We have enough enchiladas and Mexican rice to feed an army.”
“I’d be happy to...” he replied, hesitating for a moment and then continuing. “The fact is that I came over to ask if you’d want to take me on as a hired hand again. I know the job and the cows know me. I would save you training someone else. And, if you check around, you know I put in a good day’s work at whatever I set my hand to doing.”
“I’d certainly vouch for him,” Mark added when there was a pause.
“There’s no question about you being a good hand,” Bailey said. “I’m just not sure about paying someone—”
“You could owe me until the will is figured out,” Josh said. “Give me room and board and I’m happy to wait for the full amount.”
“Well, then, welcome back,” Bailey said with a grin. “I hated looking at that bunkhouse when I knew it was empty. Oh,” she suddenly realized. “That place must be as dusty as anything. It’s been months since anyone has even swept the floor out there. And the sheets!” Bailey started to rise. “I’ll need to wash the sheets for two of the bunks. Or does one of you want to stay in the foreman’s suite?”
Bailey had almost forgotten the large room and private bath that were traditionally set aside for the man who used to direct a large number of hired hands. If she remembered right, there was a small refrigerator and galley kitchen with it. There might still be a couple of rocking chairs and a small sofa.
“You just sit tight,” Mark said as he stood up. “I’ll go gather up the sheets and bring them in here. We’ll wash them while we eat.”
“I’ll go help, too,” Rosie declared as she slid down from her chair.
“It’s too cold,” Bailey protested. “And dark.”
“Markie can take me,” Rosie insisted.
“I will if you can hang around my neck like you’re riding a horse,” Mark said. “You’ll have to put your legs around my middle and hold on tight. I have to use my one arm for the cane.”
“There’s no need for that,” Josh said as he stood up. “I can go over and get the sheets.”
“No, no,” Mark said. “You stay here and keep Bailey company. Tell her how those cows are missing the home place.”
There was that expression on Mark’s face again, Bailey thought. She couldn’t imagine what he was plotting though unless... That’s it, she thought. He’s worried about me walking on the snow when I’m this pregnant. Well, he did have a point.
It didn’t take long for Rosie to be hanging on Mark’s neck with his coat covering them both and buttoned up. She saw Rosie lay her head down on the back of Mark’s shoulder and smile quietly to herself. Before she knew it, the two of them were out the door and stepping into the darkness. She stood there for a moment and heard a fake horse’s neigh and a girlish giggle when they were a few yards away from the house.
She closed the door and went to the refrigerator to pull out what she would warm up for dinner. As she worked, putting everything into the oven, Josh dutifully told her about the cows who wanted to come home. She was only half listening because it had occurred to her as she brought out some broccoli salad that Rosie was in danger of becoming too attached to her Markie.
Fortunately, she forgot about her concerns when Mark brought an armload of sheets back and needed instructions on how to use the washing machine.
“Honestly, I’m happy to do it,” Bailey said after her second trip to the mudroom off the kitchen.
“No, I can do it,” Mark said as he studied the buttons. “I just need to know what to push when.”
After the sheets were ready to take back to the bunkhouse and dinner was over, everyone decided to make it an early night. Josh and Mark left.
Bailey was grateful as she took Rosie to her room and started to get her ready for bed.
“Mommy,” Rosie said as she put her arms through her nightgown.
“Yes, sweetie,” Bailey said.
“What do daddies do?” Rosie turned as she pulled the nightgown down and looked at Bailey.
Bailey wasn’t prepared for that. She supposed she should have been.
“Why do you ask?” she said, keeping her voice calm.
“Do they give their kids horsie rides?” Rosie asked.
“Sometimes,” Bailey said. “And sometimes they read a bedtime story. Or they make sure their child has brushed their teeth before they go to bed.”
Bailey was keenly aware that Junior had done none of those things.
“But mommies can do all those things, too,” Bailey said, keeping her voice positive. “A little girl doesn’t need a daddy for those things.”
“Oh,” Rosie said, thinking a moment, and then climbing into her bed.
“Do you want a bedtime story?” Bailey asked, feeling like she should give her daughter more. She pulled the covers up and tucked them in so Rosie was warm.
She shook her head. “I’ll just go to sleep.”
“Okay, sweetie,” Bailey said as she stood up and went to the door.
Bailey turned off the light in Rosie’s room and went back into the kitchen. That room was still warm and held the sense of people having just left.
She walked over to the window over the sink and saw the light burning in the bunkhouse. She had a feeling she and Rosie were both going to have a hard time with Mark being here. They needed him, no question about that. But he might only stay for a few months. It wouldn’t do to get too close. She didn’t want Rosie hurt. Bailey decided she should talk to Mark tomorrow after church.
She suddenly wondered if he would even go to church. He never had once he’d become a teenager and Eli gave him a choice. She guessed she’d find out. She would need to share her own faith with him soon. Now that he was back at the ranch, it would be natural to tell him everything that had happened to her.
Chapter Four
Clouds filled the east as the sun fought to break through, sending streaks of golden pink across the rim of the sky. It was seven fifteen in the morning and Mark stood at the front door of the ranch house. Dressed in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday, he was warm enough. He looked down and noted that the tip of his cane was covered in mud. Yesterday’s snow had started to melt. It was going to be a cold, wet day, but likely it wouldn’t be freezing.
“Bailey,” he called out softly. She had told him to come over about now to make coffee if he wanted an early cup. He reached out, putting his hand on the doorknob. Bailey said the house would be unlocked, but it held firm.
Mark rubbed his face and felt his whiskers. He intended to shave before he put on a clean shirt, but he didn’t have a razor. Of course, he didn’t have a clean shirt either. Josh had said last night that past hired hands had left an assortment of shaving kits and shirts around. The bunkhouse was pretty empty, but Josh said some of those things were probably stored in the closet off the laundry room next to the kitchen.
Mark heard a door close inside the house so he knocked lightly. He didn’t hear anything else and he was beginning to think no one had heard him. He raised his hand to try again when he saw the curtains on a side window move.
Rosie’s little face app
eared for a moment. Then the curtains fell back into place. She must have raced to the door because the lock disengaged and she opened the door much sooner than he expected.
“Markie!” she cooed in delight. She wore pink pajamas with gray elephants all over them. “It’s you.”
She made it sound like he was the grand prize of the day.
“What are you doing up with nothing on your feet?” Mark asked as he stepped inside the living room. He didn’t want to scold her, but the alternative was to stand there grinning like a fool. No one had ever thought he was a prize before.
“I lost my socks,” she replied cheerfully.
“Aren’t your toes cold?” Mark said as he closed the door.
Rosie looked down at her feet and nodded. Then she lifted her arms up to him. “Carry me.”
“I’m colder than the floor,” Mark said as he leaned on his cane to slide his wet boots off. “And damp all over. Maybe I can set you in a chair and put a blanket around you.” Mark grabbed a knitted afghan from the nearby sofa. He’d put on thick socks when he’d dressed earlier and he was grateful for them as he walked back to the girl.
He scooped Rosie up in one arm and carried her to the kitchen, setting her on a chair and wrapping the cover around her until she was snug. Looking around in the morning light, he saw the walls were a faded yellow. Last night they had looked beige. The red Formica table was the same though. It was bare except for a pair of salt and pepper shakers. The side wall had a tractor calendar and the old rounded refrigerator by the sink had a dozen magnets on it. This was a working ranch kitchen. The only thing missing was a coffeepot.
“Is your mother up?” Mark whispered.
Rosie nodded vigorously and spoke softly. “She said a bad word.” Rosie paused and then added primly. “I’m not supposed to hear bad words.”
Mark heard the indignant gasp before he turned and saw Bailey standing in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen. She had a hairbrush in one hand and she was wearing an old blue-and-gray flannel robe with a tie closure caught in her other hand. Her green eyes were snapping and her auburn hair was flying all around. Mark thought she was beautiful.
“I have not been saying any bad words,” Bailey announced firmly.
Mark put his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
But Rosie looked at her mother and wrapped the afghan around her ears. “It’s okay—I don’t hear.”
“I said I look a mess,” Bailey continued, eyeing her daughter. “That’s not a bad word.”
Rosie studied her mother and then dropped the cover away from her ears, but Mark didn’t think she was convinced.
“When I’m a mess you say it’s bad,” Rosie argued.
“Well, no one likes a mess,” Bailey admitted. “But it still is not a bad word.”
Rosie didn’t say anything.
Mark reminded himself to watch his language around the little girl. She was sharp.
He noticed that Bailey looked over at him and cinched the robe tighter above her stomach.
“I thought I’d be up by now and have some breakfast ready for you,” she said to him. “I always try to fix a hot breakfast before we head out to church. That way we can concentrate better on the sermon. If you just give me a minute, I’ll—”
“Don’t rush on my account,” Mark said. “I’m perfectly able to fix breakfast and I’m not planning to go to church. I haven’t been in ten years.”
“Oh,” Bailey said.
She suddenly looked so tired that Mark rushed to pull out a chair from the table. “Here.”
Bailey sat down.
Rosie crawled down from her chair and went to lean her head against her mother’s shoulder. “You’re not a mess—you’re my mama.”
Bailey reached out an arm to embrace her daughter. “Thank you, sweetie.”
Then she looked down at her daughter. “Where’s your socks?”
Rosie shrugged. “I lost them in my bed.”
“Well, you can’t be walking around on these chilly floors in your bare feet,” Bailey said.
“Markie can be my horse,” Rosie offered hopefully.
“Absolutely not,” Bailey said. She turned and glared at Mark like he wanted to be a horse. “You’re not to encourage her. She’s got two good legs and she can use them.”
Mark grinned. Bailey was looking more like her normal self now. “I’ll just set her back on her chair and tuck that afghan around her. No horsie, I promise.”
Bailey nodded. Then she braced her hands on the table like she was going to get up. “I’ll get the coffee going.”
“You just sit tight,” Mark said as he plucked Rosie up and set her on her chair. “I can find my way around the kitchen if you point me in the right direction. I’ll get the coffee going. Then maybe I’ll make us a bunch of pancakes and some scrambled eggs.”
Bailey opened her mouth and Mark thought she was going to protest, but she finally closed it. “I don’t know when the last time was that someone made breakfast for me.”
“I’m surprised Junior didn’t do it,” Mark said until he thought a moment and realized the other man would never do that. “Anyway, I’m glad to do it.”
“We usually have the flakes,” Rosie said from her chair. “With milk.”
“Sometimes I make oatmeal,” Bailey added and then hung her head. “That’s what Eli likes—I mean liked. Oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar.”
Mark was thankful he knew how to make pancakes and eggs. He thought Bailey was on the verge of tears. “Just sit there and rest a bit more. You’ll need your strength for going to church.”
Bailey obeyed for once.
“I suppose they have coffee at the church like they used to.” Mark realized he was chatting away, hoping to keep Bailey’s mind off Eli. Everything was silent for a minute and then he heard a deep sigh.
“You’re right,” Bailey said. “Everyone at church will know about the will by now. Even Mr. Clemens will know and he says he won’t go inside that church even if someone pays him a million dollars.”
“So how’s he going to hear about the will?” Mark asked as he opened a cabinet door. He didn’t know any Mr. Clemens.
“Someone always talks,” Bailey said, looking even more discouraged than before. “And people stop at the Clemens house to complain about his pit bull. He’s got it fenced in, but it’s scary and the fence isn’t that good.”
Mark reached up to a top shelf and pulled the coffeepot down. “I don’t see what it matters if people know about the will anyway—oh,” he stopped. “You’re worried they’re going to know about Emma.”
“Of course,” Bailey said, almost glaring at him. “And they’re going to know that Eli wasn’t any too sure that my baby is really Junior’s child. For one thing, Gabe has a standing invitation to come here for Sunday dinner. He’ll be at church. He’ll spread the word.”
“And come here afterward?”
Bailey nodded with a bleak look on her face. “He’s family.”
Mark took another look around the homey kitchen. Like he’d noticed earlier, it wasn’t a showcase place; ranchers and their families had lived in this house for over eighty years. It had its share of nicks and scars. But he’d guess that more than one problem had been solved around the table where Bailey and Rosie sat.
“Maybe you should stay home this morning,” Mark said as he began to fill the coffeepot with water. “I’m sure everyone will understand. I think Josh is going to the services. He can tell folks that you’re tired.”
“But I have to go,” Bailey said as she stood up. “I’d rather answer the gossip today than let it go for next week.”
Mark watched as she took a minute to find her balance. She was one brave woman. “I guess I’ll go then, too.”
He had no choice, he told himself. He’d go into battle with any of his troops who w
ere facing enemy fire. Bailey needed him. He wondered if she went to both Sunday school and church services. He hadn’t been in either since he was twelve years old and Eli said he could decide about going. He hoped the church would remain intact and not be struck by lightning just because he showed up. He remembered some of those Old Testament stories from Sunday school. Fire and brimstone were the norm. He wondered if there was any hope God might not recognize him. His looks had changed a lot since he’d been twelve.
* * *
Bailey twisted the black choir robe around her as she hung up her old ranch coat in the foyer. Josh had driven in earlier with his pickup and was likely already seated in a pew. She, Rosie and Mark were late and she hadn’t had time to stop at the café and pick up her suitcase. She knew it would be waiting at the back door of the eatery when church was over. She could hear Doris June start to play the piano inside the sanctuary so everyone was probably getting settled.
“It’s time,” Bailey said softly as she reached down and took Rosie’s hand. Then she looked up at Mark. “Thanks for coming.”
He gave her a curt nod and she knew he was nervous. He’d shaved after breakfast and had found a white shirt in that closet off the laundry room. She thought it had belonged to a ranch hand that had left years ago. Mark had ironed the shirt, but it was tight on him and still looked like a thrift store special.
“You look good,” Bailey said as he offered her his arm. He’d taken care to pick a white shirt, after all. That had style even if the garment didn’t have any starch to it and was missing several buttons. She saw one safety pin put to good use.
“I’ll need to get a few new shirts,” he admitted. “Next week.”
She nodded.
Mark opened the door to the sanctuary and the three of them walked midway down the aisle to a pew that had room for all of them. A hymn was called and the singing of it helped calm Bailey. She loved being in church with her spiritual brothers and sisters, even on a day like today when she felt they might not understand her situation.
The words of the sermon soothed her, but she could feel Mark fidget beside her.
His Dry Creek Inheritance Page 5
