Montana Sky: Amanda's Rancher (Kindle Worlds) (Loving A Rancher Book 1)

by Caroline Clemmons

  “And what do I do if I find something in there?”

  “Take a broom after it or sic the dog on whatever you find. If that doesn’t work, call me or one of the men. Usually, the creatures run off when humans come around.”

  Fighting a wild animal with a broom didn’t appeal to her, but she let that go for now. “Do I split the eggs with your men?”

  “Actually, they’ve gotten most of them, but now there are four of us and four of them. I guess you need to halve them unless you need more for baking.”

  “We need more hens then. I used eight eggs this morning and I’ll need more for our other meals and baking.”

  “I’ll see if I can buy some in town next time we’re in town.”

  She pulled the hem of her dress free so it fell back into place. “I’m going to be much more appreciative of eggs from now on. And chicken. I’m afraid of killing one. I’ve never killed anything larger than a fly before.”

  “Either I or one of the men can take care of that job for you. Do you know how to scald the feathers and remove them?”

  She certainly had done so enough times when her mother was alive. “I-I’ve seen it done. The smell is awful, isn’t it?”

  “Unforgettable stench, but I do love chicken, fried or baked. Fried is best, with potatoes and gravy and biscuits. If I hadn’t eaten so much at breakfast, I’d be making myself hungry.”

  His plaintive tone made her laugh and she sent him a coquettish glance. “If you were to bring me a hen this afternoon, we could have fried chicken tonight.”

  “You have a deal.” He grabbed her waist and set her on the back porch.

  She shrieked, “Careful of the eggs.”

  Chuckling, he walked away.

  Before going inside the house, she cleaned her shoes. Even being careful, she’d stepped in droppings. She wondered if the barn included a broom rake, for one was badly needed in the hen’s enclosure.

  When she entered the kitchen, she saw someone—Ben, she supposed—had left a pail of milk covered with cheese cloth. Papa Kincaid had gone and Iris played in her room. Amanda set to work tidying the kitchen before churning the butter.

  She spoke the truth when she’d told her husband this would be a good life. Her sister wouldn’t have thought so. Everything depends on what you’d had before this. Compared to where she grew up or the tiny back room she’d lived in for six years, this was paradise.

  ***

  All day Preston had straddled a furrow and guided the mule pulling the plow. Behind him, Papa planted corn. This field was for silage for the swine and cattle. Later in the week, he’d plant eating corn. He looked forward to corn on the cob this summer.

  Could Amanda learn to can vegetables? That would help their food situation considerably. He chuckled again remembering her pulling her hem between her legs to gather eggs. Fortunately, he’d already sent Monty, Rusty, and Garrett to see to the cattle and Ben was busy with the milking and other barn chores. Preston had admired the glimpse of ankles and stockings, but he didn’t want to share the view with others.

  Sweat beaded on his brow and ran down between his shoulder blades. His wife puzzled him. Usually, she walked and talked like a Southern belle, but sometimes her speech changed.

  At those times, she sounded different somehow—almost another person. Oh, her drawl was genuine, he was certain of that. He couldn’t shake the feeling she was hiding something from him. Aw, he was probably being too suspicious.

  Preston finished his final trek across the field and turned the mule. He needed a better plow. He’d read about a new kind and wondered if the blacksmith at Morgan’s Crossing could build what he wanted or if he’d have to order from back east.

  Drawing even with Papa, he halted the mule. “I’m about ready to call it a day. How about you?”

  His stopped and took out a bandana and wiped his face. “Wouldn’t mind. The planter’s drill keeps clogging. Need to work on it tonight.”

  “All right. When I finish this row, I’ll put up the mule and then come help you finish.”

  Papa stuffed the red cloth back in his pocket. “I can do this job on my own. You just take care of your part.”

  He clicked the reins to signal the mule to carry on. His father was one stubborn man, unwilling to admit he was no longer as fit as Preston. But, for a fifty-year-old man, Papa could still outwork most men half his age.

  That evening, he polished off the last bite of cobbler. “Don’t bother with breakfast in the morning. We have to irrigate the potatoes and oats tomorrow. We’ll be out of here early so at dawn we can start the water flowing.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Then I’ll be up before then so you have a good breakfast to carry you. I’ll not send men off to work on an empty stomach.”

  Papa caught his eye and smiled. “Sounds like a durn good idea to me.”

  He leaned forward, his palm flat on the table. “Do you realize you’ll have to get up at four to get breakfast ready and on the table by the time we need to leave?”

  “So, if I need to I’ll take a nap after I gather the eggs.” She picked up his plate and Papa’s and carried them to the sink. “Would you like more coffee?”

  Papa pushed back from the table. “None for me. I believe I’ll turn in.”

  Preston pushed his cup toward her. “I’d like one more cup.”

  When she poured it and set the cup in front of him, he caught her hand. “I appreciate that you’re so willing to help.”

  “You’re my husband and deserve the best I can give you. I’ll not be a lie-abed while you slave.”

  He pulled her onto his lap. “Do you truly not mind?”

  She grinned at him. “I do not. This is a nice kitchen in a pleasant home.”

  “Not the sort you’d find in Atlanta.”

  “As if that sort of home would fit out here. And where would you find the servants needed to run such a place? There’s not a line at the door asking for work.”

  Continuing, she said, “That was my old life and is dead to me. This is my new life and my future. I plan to make you proud.”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her gently. She wound her arms around his neck. Before he could stop himself, his kiss turned urgent and needy. With all his willpower, he pulled away from her luscious mouth.

  “I can’t get enough of that, Mrs. Kincaid.”

  She slid off his lap. “That’s good to hear, Mr. Kincaid. I think I can stand it for fifty or sixty years.”

  Iris slipped off her chair and stood beside him. “Daddy, are you going to kiss me again too?”

  “That I am, Princess Iris.” He lifted her onto his lap and kissed her cheek.

  “You kissed Mommy on the lips and me on the cheek.”

  “That’s right. Only a husband and wife kiss on the mouth. We kiss others on the cheek or forehead.” He demonstrated above her brow.

  Amanda drew hot water from the range reservoir. “Iris, if you’ll help me with the dishes, we’ll have time for a story before you go to sleep.”

  “Hooray, I get a story.” She climbed off her new daddy’s lap and scooted her chair near the sink. She grabbed a cup towel before climbing onto the chair.

  Preston stood and stretched, his hands brushing the ceiling. “I’ll turn in, too. It’s back breaking work so I need all my strength.”

  “I’ll set my alarm for four.”

  After her husband had gone to bed, she thought about what she could quickly prepare in the morning. She laid out enough potatoes for slicing into rounds for frying, cut thick slabs of ham but replaced them in the cool space, and laid the table. When she was certain she could do no more to prepare for the early morning, she and Iris went to the room they shared.

  She had run out of stories for her daughter. Mama had seldom had time to tell her a tale and no books to read her. Only in school did she hear a few fairy tales from one teacher who loved reading to her students. Fortunately, Iris didn’t seem to mind hearing the same stories over and over.

 
; Chapter Eight

  The next morning when her alarm rang, she wanted to turn it off and snuggle under the covers. Instead, she hastily donned her clothes in the dark and left her hair in a braid down her back. She tucked covers around Iris and left the room.

  In the kitchen, she lit the lamp and fed the range’s fire she’d banked the evening before. After the biscuits were in the oven, she sliced rounds of potatoes for frying with onions and set them to cook. In another skillet, she started ham frying. Then she cracked eggs into a bowl for scrambling.

  She heard Preston moving in the other room. He stumbled into the kitchen looking as sleepy as she was.

  He clamped on his hat, grabbed a jacket, and mumbled, “Going out back.”

  Soon, Papa followed.

  By the time the men were back inside, she had breakfast on the table. They ate quickly while discussing repairs to one of the barns.

  Before they left, Preston said, “We’ll be back by noon, muddy and hungry.”

  “See you wipe your feet, Mr. Kincaid, before you come in.”

  He grinned. “Yes, Mrs. Kincaid.”

  When they returned at noon, she had dinner ready. After the meal, Preston helped her clean the kitchen while Papa went to his room.

  “We take a nap on days like this. Irrigating just saps our strength and makes our bones feel every movement, especially our backs. So much of it is stooping.”

  She poured out the dishwater and set the pan back in the sink. “I’ll be quiet while you sleep.”

  Preston took her hand. “Amanda, I know we aren’t supposed to have marital relations until the month is up, but would you nap beside me today? We’d have our clothes on and your virtue would be safe.”

  Oh, how she wanted to lie in his arms. “I-I suppose I can, if that’s what you want. Iris will take a nap in her room.”

  He squeezed her hand and released it. “Thank you. I’ll be waiting for you on our bed.”

  She tucked Iris in for a nap then went to the room she would share with her husband. He’d turned back the quilt and lay on the blanket. Overcome by shyness and apprehension, she removed her shoes and took her place beside him.

  He pulled the quilt over them. “Don’t want us to get a chill.” He turned toward her and laid his arm across her waist.

  Stiff as a board, she didn’t believe she could rest. She stared at the ceiling, wondering what it would be like to sleep with this man as his wife in every way.

  He moved his head near hers and whispered, “Relax, Mandy. Turn your back toward me and we’ll fit together like spoons.”

  She complied and he snuggled next to her. They fit as if they’d been destined to be joined. Releasing a giant sigh, her muscles loosened. Soon, she heard his breathing change as he dropped off to sleep.

  Amanda woke cuddled in Preston’s arms with his hand on her breast. She lay still, savoring the closeness. Soon, she could awake like this every morning. She slid quietly out of bed, wondering how long she’d slept.

  Iris sat at the kitchen table eating jam and bread. Apple butter covered her face and fingers. “Everybody was asleep, but I was hungry.”

  “I’ll bet a drink would be good with that.” Amanda grabbed a glass and filled it with milk.

  “I wanted some but I can’t reach the glasses unless I stand on a chair and you told me not to do that unless you were here.”

  Amanda dropped a kiss on her daughter’s head. “Thank you for remembering what I said. You’re a very good girl.”

  Iris smiled, heedless of her jam-spotted mouth and cheeks. Amanda grabbed a cloth and wet it under the pump then cleaned the child’s face and hands.

  Preston entered, stretching his strong arms upward. “You ladies like to ride around the ranch a bit?”

  Amanda looked up. “You mean in the wagon?”

  “Horse. Think you can manage a horse, Amanda?”

  She paused a few seconds to consider riding out here. “Yes, if you give me a gentle mount. I’m a city girl, remember.”

  “Daddy, what about me?”

  “You can ride double with me, princess. When you’re older, maybe six or seven, I’ll get you your own horse.”

  “Mommy, did you hear? I’ll get my own horse someday.”

  She gave her daughter a gentle shove.“Right now, hurry to the privy while I change clothes.”

  Preston asked, “You have a split skirt? We don’t own a sidesaddle.”

  “I do and I prefer western saddles anyway. I’ll hurry.” Oh, she shouldn’t have said that. A refined Southern belle would never ride astride. Maybe he won’t think about what she’d revealed.

  Quickly, she changed into the split skirt and jacket she’d discovered. The gray serge was never intended to be worn on a western saddle traipsing across the prairie. She set the matching hat on her head, thinking she’d look ridiculous. She needed a brim to protect her face from the sun.

  Once again she was reminded of how different her sister’s life had been than the one on the ranch. She doubted her sister would have lasted a month here before Preston sent her to town to find another man. No, he was too honorable to go back on his word but both Preston and her sister would be miserable.

  While Iris waited, she clutched her doll.

  “You’ll have to leave dolly here. You can tell her about the ride when we come back.”

  Outside, Preston had saddled two horses. He said, “We won’t have time to see everything, but I wanted you to see at least a part of the ranch.”

  “I’m eager to. You might have to help me mount.”

  “Of course.” He placed her left foot in the stirrup. “Hold on to the pommel and pull yourself up and throw your right leg over. I’ll be right here to keep you from falling.”

  His touch at her waist sent tingles through her. She was proud of the fact she could climb into the saddle alone but maybe she should have leaned on him more. “Much better than sidesaddle.”

  What a silly thing to say. She’d never ridden sidesaddle. Vern Baxter had taught her to ride bareback and with a western saddle.

  “Much safer, too. Sidesaddles are dangerous.” He lifted Iris onto the horse. “There you go, princess. I’ll be your knight and protect you.” He swung up behind her daughter.

  Amanda said, “I haven’t seen Papa. Is he all right?”

  “Pretty sore. Said he planned to rest up for tomorrow but he’ll put the hens up for you.”

  “You have to irrigate more?”

  “Can’t do all the fields at once or those further down the way won’t have water. We rotate. Follow me or ride beside me. I’ll show you the crops and the cattle.”

  She rode beside him. He rocked in the saddle as if he and the horse were one. What a handsome, magnificent man. Apparently, he had no idea how appealing he was.

  Overhead, she couldn’t get over how brilliant a blue the sky was. The breeze chilled her slightly, but the day was glorious. She glanced at her daughter. The little girl appeared happy riding with her new Daddy.

  “Iris, are you warm enough?”

  “Yes, Mommy.” She held up her arm. “Remember, I had to wear my jacket.”

  Soon, Preston pointed out a field. “By 1880 when we claimed our land, we had to agree to plant some in food crops and irrigate. The idea is to reclaim desert land into farmland. Fortunately, the land Papa and I wanted bordered the river and a creek.”

  “I see the trenches. This is where you worked this morning, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, this is planted in oats. We grow enough for our stock and a bit extra in case neighbors need to buy a few bushels.”

  Iris said, “Ugh, oatmeal. Mommy said I wouldn’t have to eat oatmeal all the time once we got here.”

  “Only a little of the oats are for people, Princess Iris.”

  They rode through the cultivated portion of the ranch. He’d already planted oats, corn, beets, parsnips, carrots, onions, and potatoes.

  “Our short growing season confuses many newcomers. We can only count on June through Augus
t. Late or early snowstorms or freezes can ruin all our work.”

  “You have to work hard to have enough food. I’ve never canned but I’d like to learn. I’m sure at least one of the women in Morgan’s Crossing will know how.”

  “Likely will.” He kneed his horse forward.

  Further along the trail, he pointed to an orchard. “There are our apples. Some here planted cherry, plum, and pear trees, but they only get fruit once in every five years or so. Papa and I decided to stick with apples.”

  They rode beneath the trees, which were covered in buds.

  She touched one of the limbs. “I’ll bet these are pretty and fragrant when they’re in bloom.”

  “Nothing smells better. Good place for a picnic then.” He guided his horse closer. “Do you like picnics?”

  He was close enough to touch. His blue eyes darkened. She trembled at the message he sent, he wanted her in a carnal way. She believed she wanted him, but the problem of her virginity presented an ugly threat.

  She smiled as if she were carefree. “I’ve never been on a picnic, but I’m sure I’d enjoy sitting with you under the branches.”

  “We’ll make it a date to come for lunch one day soon when the trees are in bloom.”

  “I’ll look forward to the outing. Where are your cattle?”

  He gestured with his western hat then set it back on his head. “They’re our cattle now and they’re in the other direction. Grazing here is sparse, so we move them often to give the grass a chance to recover.”

  “This is a lovely ranch. You’ve accomplished an amazing amount in seven years.”

  She compared his life to hers. All she’d done was manage to get out of the brothel with her virtue intact and work at a menial job. Could she have done more? She couldn’t see how.

  They rode back the way they’d come. Preston said, “When Mama died, Papa was so torn up he couldn’t bear to stay in the house where they’d lived together. He got it into head to sell out and move up here.”

  “I’m sorry he went through such a painful time. You, too. Sometimes starting over is a good thing. Clean slate, new opportunities, leave all your heartaches behind. Makes sense to me.” Exactly what she was doing.