She turned, allowing the stall door to support her, since her lower limbs seemed incapable of doing so with any degree of stability. The horse’s muzzle nudged at her shoulder, and she scented again the clean animal smell of him.
“I believe you’ve lost your fear of my stud,” Tanner said, his eyes twinkling with some barely contained emotion.
“Are you laughing at me, sir?”
“No, only enjoying your blushes, Rosie. I’m not familiar with women who find themselves flustered when I appear.” His eyes flickered to the proud head of his stallion, then back to meet hers. “It does seem you’ve lost your fear of my horse. The lesser of two evils?”
“I don’t fear you, Mr. Tanner. You are my employer. I owe you respect, but unless you cease touching me, I will be hard-pressed to give you your due.”
“You mean you don’t want me kissin’ you, honey?”
The lazy drawl mocked her firm declaration and she tilted her chin, her jaw firming. “You know exactly what I mean, sir.”
From the yard beyond the wide doors, voices meshed with her words, and Tanner’s gaze left her, his attention caught by the interruption.
“Where’s that Tanner?” Mama Pearl’s distinctive accents reached where they stood, and Tanner strode quickly to the doorway.
“What brings you here?” he asked as he made his way toward her.
Her posture was regal as she perched atop the dilapidated wagon that bore her. A turban wound tightly around her head, a brilliant purple-and-orange print that only served to emphasize the proud lines of her face. She looked down at him, narrowed eyes intent on his.
“I come to stay.” There was no hesitation in her announcement, only a firm declaration of intent.
“You come to stay,” he repeated, his brow furrowing, his mouth pursing over the words.
Mama Pearl nodded emphatically. “My girl found herself a man, and there ain’t no room in that house for a mama hangin’ around. I figure you got room here for me to park my carcass, and plenty of reason for havin’ me in your house, Gabe Tanner. You can just slip me some spendin’ money once in a while and we’ll call it good.”
He was silent, digesting her words, examining the stoic expression she wore. And then he nodded, a barely noticeable incline of his head, but one she accepted with a like motion of the brilliant turban.
“I’ll be taking my belongings inside.” She lifted the reins and hesitated, glancing toward the house, then back at the man who watched her. “Where’s that young’un?”
“You mean Miss Gibson?” Tanner asked smoothly. He tilted his head to one side, his voice carrying easily to where Rosemary waited, inside the barn. “Come on out, young’un.”
Mama Pearl watched in silence as Rosemary stepped from the shadowed interior, blinking as the brilliant sunlight narrowed her eyes.
“Climb up here, girl. I’ll give you a lift back to the house, and then you can help me tote my parcels inside.”
Rosemary stepped to the wagon, holding her skirt to the side as she reached with the other hand for a grip on the wooden seat. Before her foot could seek purchase, two big hands clasped her waist and she was lifted into the air and placed beside Mama Pearl. Below her, Tanner grinned as she turned a startled look in his direction.
“Guess you got your orders, ma’am,” he announced.
The wagon lumbered toward the back door of his house and he watched it go. The two women spoke, their heads tilting together, and he wondered for a moment at the way in which women formed alliances so easily.
He’d missed such a bond in his life, had never really sought the friendship of another man. Mentally he dismissed the everyday words he exchanged with Cotton and the men who helped him run his ranch. That sort of give-and-take was easy to come by. He found it simple to speak with the men in town, the barkeep, even one or another of Laura Lee’s girls, who occasionally sidled up to him in hopes of adding him to their clientele. With them he could laugh and talk of everyday things with ease, even as he resisted their charms.
But deep inside, he felt a greater need, mostly in the long hours of darkness. He’d almost found such a bond with the Widow Courtland. There’d been times she’d drawn from him emotions he’d hidden, even from himself. Fears he’d conquered over the years, memories he’d tucked away lest they weaken him.
She’d been a good friend. Not a woman to arouse any but the most natural of his urges, and yet he’d missed her, once she’d sought security in the proposal of Hale Carpenter.
He watched as Rosemary slid easily from the wagon seat, noted with acute interest as her rising hemline exposed neat ankles and just a hint of rounded calves. Mama Pearl maneuvered the descent more slowly, and then the two women gathered bundles from the wagon bed, carrying them to the porch and into the house.
Tanner heard a peal of laughter from the older woman, caught her eye as she turned in the doorway to cast him a glance that spoke of warning, and noted that her good humor was not aimed in his direction.
He shrugged. He wouldn’t argue with her. She probably knew him inside and out, if the truth be known. At least she’d had a long-term acquaintance with the leanings of the male species. That her presence would be a deterrent to his pursuit of Rosemary Gibson was a fact.
And the truth was that Rosemary was becoming more and more of a temptation with each day she resided in his home, with each night she slept just beyond his bedroom wall. Who would have thought that the prim-and-proper preacher’s daughter held such a wealth of untapped passion within her small, rounded body?
For he’d felt it, felt the humming tension that sang between them, had sensed the unawakened yearnings she fought to subdue each time he touched her. And so, as if he could not resist the unwrapping of her latent layers of feminine need, he found himself hovering like a bee who has found a particularly sweet source of nectar and must sate himself in its depths.
Tanner shook his head, aware that he stared in rapt attention at an empty porch and a closed screen door. One hand tilted his hat lower over his eyes as he turned back to the barn, empty now, save for the big stallion that watched him over the door of his box stall.
Tanner strolled toward the animal, and his fingers tangled in the creature’s forelock. He tugged gently, then allowed his hand to brush the same pathway as had Rosemary’s only moments before. The stud nudged him, nose snuffling against his shirtfront, and Tanner laughed aloud.
“Got a problem, old fella?” He scratched beneath the stallion’s jaw, and his words were soft, spoken almost in a caressing tone. “I reckon that makes two of us.”
“Where will you stay?” Rosemary asked, her hands busily molding freshly chopped beef for a meat loaf. She’d added two large onions, blinking teary eyes as she turned the handle on the gadget that ground up the meat. Next, she’d torn up a whole loaf of bread left from the last baking day plus a double handful of oatmeal to add to the mixture. Two quarts of stewed tomatoes, and half a dozen eggs had filled the largest mixing bowl almost to the brim until she was hard put to keep the ingredients within their boundaries.
Mama Pearl peeled potatoes with slashing movements of her knife, barely watching what she did. “Right acrost the hall from your room, honey.” She put aside the potato she held, glancing to inspect it briefly, and took another in hand.
“I been watchin’ how Tanner looks at you, girl. He’s got urges like any man, and even if he thinks he’s a gentleman from the word go, he’s not above seein’ just how far he can push you.” She looked up at Rosemary and grinned.
“I saw how he came outta that barn, like he’d like to throttle whoever was causin’ an interruption to what was goin’ on out there.”
“Nothing was going on,” Rosemary said emphatically, squeezing the mixture between her fingers. It was about ready for the pan and she gave the loaf that was forming within her grasp a final pat. “We were talking, and I was looking at his horse.”
Mama Pearl nodded knowingly. “I’ll bet he was lookin’ at more than that big
stallion of his. I know a man set on stealin’ more than a kiss from a woman.”
Rosemary slid the mixing bowl toward the big baking pan, then turned out the meat loaf with a practiced move. It settled squarely in the center of the pan, and she gave it a satisfied pat. “He’s my employer, and I’ve reminded him of that fact.”
“Well, I’m here to see that he remembers it.”
Mama Pearl snatched up another potato and glanced out the window to where the sun’s rays cast a short shadow from the house against the ground. “We better be gettin’ that meat in the oven. Those men’ll be headin’ this way before it gets done if we’re not careful.”
Rosemary opened the big oven door and slid the meat inside, then closed the door quickly. She lifted a stove lid on top of the range and selected two pieces of wood, adding them to the fire that glowed within. “I’ll get the beans I cleaned yesterday. There’s time for them to cook.”
“Go get a piece of side pork to flavor ’em up good,” Mama Pearl said. She tightened her lips as she considered the younger woman. “Here I am, tellin’ you how to cook, and you been doin’ all right on your own.”
Rosemary halted halfway to the pantry. “I still have to remind myself how many men come storming through that door three times a day. This is a far cry from fixing meals for my father.”
“Well, I’m here now. And I’ll warrant that between us, we can keep these hungry men fed and get this house redd up like it oughta be.”
Rosemary cast her a grateful look. “It’s more work than I thought, and I’ll admit I’ve fallen behind. But then, it’s just bedrooms I have to keep up. Nobody has time to lollygag around in the parlor anyway. We don’t even use the dining room, and Tanner’s been trying to set his father’s office to rights most every evening after supper.”
“Well, we’ll find you some time to lollygag,” Mama Pearl promised. “You’ve been workin’ yourself to a frazzle, now that Tanner’s left it all up to you.”
“I don’t mind. I like it here,” Rosemary said, looking around the cheerful kitchen. “It’s beginning to feel like home.”
Mama Pearl’s head nodded, and her mouth curved in a smile, as if she were well pleased with the turn of events.
“…coffee, flour and a pail of lard. You got all that written down, girl?” From the pantry, Mama Pearl’s voice boomed the words, and Rosemary’s pencil scribbled rapidly on her scrap of paper.
“I think I’ll splurge on a box of tea,” she murmured, adding that item to her list. Working in tandem was becoming a habit after only a week of having Mama Pearl living in. Tea time was becoming a ritual, one she savored.
“I ought to have you to knock on the back door of the saloon and get me a new supply for my…” Mama Pearl’s musing words were interrupted by Tanner’s booming voice.
“You’re not sendin’ the preacher’s daughter to the Golden Slipper. She probably couldn’t find the back door anyway. You need a nip once in a while, old Cotton’s got a stash hid away.”
Rosemary stiffened, remembering all too well her sole venture into the back room of the saloon. The weeks spent on Gabe Tanner’s ranch had removed her far from those few days of fearful existence. “I suspect I could find most any door in town if I had to,” she said quietly. “It’s just that I…”
“Never you mind, girl,” Mama Pearl said quickly. “I know a whiskey man. I just like a little nip once in a while. Keeps my rheumatiz from actin’ up.”
“You going to town, Rosemary?” Tanner wanted to know.
She nodded. “I asked Tipper to get the buggy ready for me.”
“I’ll take you.”
She shook her head, meeting his gaze forthrightly. “I don’t want you carting me around town, Tanner. It makes folks think we’re together, like a couple. I heard remarks at church again on Sunday as it is.”
Tanner stepped from the doorway and halted beside her chair. The dratted man made her feel like a silly goose, all shaky inside, and her fingers trembled, allowing her pencil to slip from her grasp. It rolled to the table’s edge and Tanner’s hand snatched it as it fell.
He unrolled her clenched fist and placed the pencil in her palm, curling her fingers around it to hold it in place. His hand was warm, his fingers firm and agile, and she watched the movement of their hands, felt the abrasion of his callused palm against her flesh.
“Your fingers are cold, Rosie,” he murmured, bending to whisper against her ear. “You scared of me?”
Her head snapped up, eyes wide as she denied his suggestion. “Certainly not! I’m not cold. You’re just…”
His eyes narrowed and his lips curved. “Yeah, I am.”
“You ‘am’ what, Tanner?” Mama Pearl asked sharply, arms akimbo as she stood before the pantry door.
“Am sendin’ my hired help to town,” Tanner said smoothly, patting Rosemary’s hand a final time.
From the back porch, Tipper’s voice rang out. “Got the buggy all set, Miss Rosemary. It’s tied to the rail. Sure you don’t need somebody to go along and help?” His words were wistful as he peered through the screen.
“She turned me down, boy. What makes you think she’ll take you?” Tanner’s query was softly spoken, but it gained the expected result. Tipper backed from the door, stumbling from the porch and muttering beneath his breath.
“You’re mean to that boy,” Rosemary said quietly.
“That boy has eyes for you,” he told her.
Mama Pearl’s snort of laughter rang out as she slid a bucket of water onto the surface of the stove. “Ain’t you the one to talk!”
Rosemary felt squeezed between two adversaries as Tanner shot a forbidding look at the other woman. His dark eyes held hidden messages she sometimes feared to decipher, but this morning he made no secret of his meaning.
Mama Pearl had stepped on his toes.
A firm hand gripped her elbow, and Rosemary was assisted from her chair. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”
With a final glance at Mama Pearl, she headed for the door. It opened before her, Tanner’s hand holding it ajar, and she hurried across the porch, aware of the pressure he exerted on her arm.
“You can let go of me,” she said sharply. “I know how—”
“I’m very aware of what you know and what you can do, Rosemary.” His steps were long and she scampered to keep up. “If I thought it was important for me to go along with you this morning, the townsfolk and their opinions couldn’t keep me home. They can consider us a couple if they want to. That’s fine with me.” He lifted her to the buggy seat, her skirts flying, then handed her the reins.
“Being a couple involves marriage, Tanner,” she said, gripping the leather straps tightly, unwilling to meet his gaze.
“I know exactly what it means. I’ve changed my mind about that, Rosemary. I know you turned me down, and that was all right with me, then. But, things are different now.”
“Different?” She focused on the mare in front of her.
“You know what I’m talkin’ about. I don’t know how many more nights I can hear you movin’ around in the next room and not want to be in there with you, and see you in that white nightgown of yours again.”
Rosemary closed her eyes, clenching her fists abruptly. The mare backed up a step and the buggy jolted. Tanner reached to cover her hands with one of his. “Undo those fists, honey. You know I’m not fool enough to do such a thing. Not with your watchdog in there.” His head nodded toward the house.
Her fists clenched even tighter, and his wide palm curved to clasp them in its grip. A small embrace, it brought to life a mixture of urges with which she struggled to cope. The need to be held raged uppermost, and yet not by just any person. Only Tanner. And another, a dreadful compulsion to explore the lure of this masculine being, enveloped her with frightful yearnings.
“I like being your cook and keeping up your house, Tanner,” she said, aware of the blush that colored her cheeks, the breathless sound of her voice. So easily, he confused her. So thoroughly,
he managed to make her feel witless and unsure.
Her words were so softly spoken, they were but a whisper as she denied the longing of her heart. “I don’t know that I really want to be married.”
His big hand scooped behind her head, crushing the back of her black straw hat. With a force she could not deny, he pulled her toward him, his mouth covering hers in a kiss that held but a vestige of tenderness. It was hot and brief, a claiming gesture that only in the final swift second of its existence allowed their lips to soften and brush gently.
Tanner’s grip softened and he released her, stepping back. His narrowed gaze was all encompassing as he nodded his head. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Eight
Pip’s embrace was welcome, her arms strong as she clutched Rosemary. “I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered.
Rosemary leaned back, her eyes searching Pip’s face. Tears hovered, Pip’s eyes glittering with their presence, and her smile was wistful. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed having you drop by most every day.”
“I was here just…” Rosemary halted, her mind spinning back to the last trip she’d made to town. “Well, now that I think about it, it’s been over two weeks, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, it has. And I didn’t get to church the past two Sundays, what with spelling Ma in the sickroom. My little brothers both had the mumps, one at a time, and my pa right in the midst of them. He was sicker than anybody ever ought to be, and we all had to pitch in. It was a rest to come back to the store on Monday morning.”
“I hadn’t even heard,” Rosemary said ruefully, “But I’m here now.” Truth to tell, she’d scooted out of church early on Sunday, lest she find herself within a clutch of women, all bent on advising her.
Rosemary dug into her pocket, drawing forth three scraps of paper, each covered with her bold writing. “I’ve got things written down all over, enough to choke a horse.” She frowned, holding one piece sideways, then turning it over.
The Bachelor Tax Page 9
