“Come and get it before I throw it out.” Reed ladled out for everyone and piled his own plate high. The boy had lost weight, like Harrison had himself, over the course of the roundup. They could both use a rest.
But judging from the bottom line in the tally book, a rest was just what they weren’t going to get. Harrison had worked too hard, come too far to fall short this close to the end. As he shoveled the bland food into his mouth, he racked his brain for a way to make up the deficit.
“Be good to get back to the ranch tomorrow, huh?” Reed flopped beside Harrison. “Bet you’re looking forward to some good cooking. I thought you were crazy when you said you were sending off for a bride, but those cinnamon rolls she gave us before we left … It was enough to make me think about getting hitched myself.”
Harrison smiled. He was looking forward to getting back to Jane, but a twinge of apprehension feathered across his chest. The time was coming soon when he’d have to explain to her about his situation, about the contract with his father and all that went with it. He should’ve told her in his letter, so she would have known what she was getting into, and he certainly should’ve told her when they met, but he’d taken one look into those hazel, trusting eyes and couldn’t. If she knew about his life back east, she might start badgering him to give up the ranch and return to civilization.
“How’d the tally go? I’ve seen you scowling at that book.” Reed set his plate on the ground and stretched his boots toward the fire.
“Not as good as I’d hoped. We’ll have to find a way to make up the difference.”
“Like how?”
“Dunno. I’ll have to think on it.”
“Sure hope you come up with something. I’d hate to see you lose everything after coming this far.” Reed took his plate and Harrison’s now-empty one and headed to the creek to wash up.
Harrison’s hand clenched into a fist, and he pounded his thigh. He wasn’t going to lose this ranch. There had to be a way.
Chapter 5
Harrison paid off the three temporary hands, broke camp, and with Reed and the packhorses in tow, headed home. Finally, near midday two days later, they topped the last rise, and his ranch spread out before him. Pride of ownership, the pride of knowing he’d worked by the sweat of his brow to build something out of nothing, welled up in his chest. He was so close to fulfilling his dream.
He frowned and pulled to a halt. Something was different.
“What’s that?” Reed pointed with the hand that held the packhorse leads.
A large square of broken ground lay between the soddy and the creek. At least an acre? Gray-brown earth, tilled and harrowed smooth. Two figures bent over the dirt. Lem and Jane. He kicked his horse into a lope, leaving Reed to bring the packhorses.
Down the slope, around the soddy, and to the edge of the plowed dirt he rode, and the whole way he remembered his parting kiss and anticipated Jane’s welcome.
Jane straightened, pressed her hand to the small of her back, and leaned on her hoe handle. He swung down from the saddle and strode across the broken earth, ready to embrace her, but her expression changed from surprised relief to … something else. Something wary and … hurt? He stopped a few paces away.
She swiped the back of her wrist across her forehead. Was it his imagination, or did she look thinner? “Welcome home.”
Harrison blinked at the cold tone. Every day, several times a day, while they had been apart, he’d remembered the ardor of her embrace and looked forward to taking up where they’d left off. And now she looked every bit as self-contained and remote as the moment she’d climbed down from Cummings’s wagon.
Lem shouldered his shovel and sauntered over. “Boss. What do you think?” He waved toward the expanse of dirt. “When your wife does something, she does it thoroughly. She said she wanted a garden patch, and she’s had me digging for the past week.” He stuck his spade into the earth. “With all she’s planting, I don’t reckon you’ll need to buy much in the way of supplies this fall. You’ll probably have enough to sell at the fort.”
Jane pushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “That’s my hope.”
Why wouldn’t she look at him? Was she shy in front of Lem? Relief trickled through him. That must be it. She just didn’t want to show affection in front of an audience. Later then, when they were alone. He almost chuckled. He could wait.
Lem turned his attention up the hill where Reed plodded down with the packhorses. “I’ll go help the kid.”
As he shuffled away, Harrison stepped closer to Jane. “I missed you. You look tired. The garden is a surprise. Not that you’re planting one, but the size. Are you sure you can keep up with such a large plot?”
Her back straightened. “Don’t worry about me. I’m strong, and I can take care of a garden. How was your roundup?” She whacked her hoe blade into a stubborn dirt clod.
“Fine. Well, not as fine as I’d hoped. Not as many calves as I would’ve liked, though the herd seems to have wintered fairly well. All that extra feeding out we did helped.” A pungent odor drifted up from the dirt, and he realized she was incorporating fertilizer into the soil. She’d need it, since the dirt out here wasn’t the best for gardening.
“Are you hungry? I can leave off here for a bit and fix you something.” Chop, chop, chop. She sounded as if she didn’t care one way or the other.
Baffled by her remoteness, he shook his head, though his stomach gurgled at the thought of a decent meal. “I’d best see to my horse.”
She never looked up, just nodded and continued working the soil.
Entering the barn, Harrison shrugged. Women were indeed a mystery, though he hadn’t thought Jane the moody type.
Reed and Lem worked at the far end of the barn, slipping packs off and stowing equipment. Lem opened one of the packs. “She’s worked herself to a standstill every blessed day you all were gone.” He sorted the branding irons and hung them on hooks on the wall. “I rode over to Gareth’s and got a plow and team to turn most of that field, or I swear she’d have done it all with a hand spade. As it is, she’s hoed it over twice and planted most of it by herself. She had me ride clear into Sagebrush for seeds, too. I offered to take her with me to Gareth’s. Figured she’d want to see her sister, but she said she’d go next time, that there was too much to do before you got back from the roundup. Never seen a woman work so hard.”
Reed coiled a length of rope. “Guess she’ll fit in with the boss pretty well then. He works from dark to dark himself.”
“How was the calf crop?”
“Boss said it was fine, but his face was awful long every time he counted things up.”
Harrison cleared his throat, and they both jumped. “Be sure to give those horses a good rubdown and feed now.”
“Sure thing.” Reed got busy, but Lem limped over to Harrison.
“You got time for a little walk? There’s something I want to show you.”
Harrison removed the saddle from his mount and led him into a stall. “Let me take care of this fellow first.” He curried the animal while Lem doled out feed and made sure the water bucket was full.
“Look in here.” Lem pointed into Buttercup’s stall.
He looked over the partition into the eyes of the most perfect little jersey calf he’d ever seen. A smile tugged at his mouth. Big kneed, round-bellied, moist-nosed, the little heifer was the picture of bovine beauty.
“She came about a week after you left. Hard calving, though. Breech. Your missus helped with the birthing, though you could tell she was scared to death. Kept talking to Buttercup like the old girl could understand every word while I delivered the calf. And Jane’s been down here every day teaching the calf to drink from a bucket. She’s taken over the milking, too, though I had to teach her how.”
As he emerged from the barn, Harrison checked the garden plot, but Jane had disappeared. A wisp of smoke trickled from the soddy chimney.
“Boss, that Jane is a wonder, but I’m worried about her.”
Lem had his attention. Maybe he could give Harrison a clue as to why Jane was so distant. “She’s not ailing, is she?” Was she homesick? Missing her sisters? Maybe he could take time out to let her visit one of them. But when? Work piled up every day as it was.
“No, that’s not it. At least I don’t think it is.” He scrubbed his jaw and hitched his suspenders. “She found your city clothes and papers and things when she was cleaning out the soddy, and she started asking questions. I didn’t think much about it, since it isn’t exactly a secret, and I told her about the contract with your father. She also found a photograph of Sylvia Norwood and asked about her.”
Harrison grimaced. He’d much rather have told Jane about his past himself, and he’d very much rather she had never known about Sylvia at all. They strolled in the direction of the chicken coop.
“How did she take the news?”
“That’s just it. I thought everything was fine. She didn’t seem upset at all, just a little quiet, but considering all the work she’d put in on the house that day, her being quiet and tired made sense. But ever since that day, she’s about killed herself working. Look in here.” He opened the henhouse door.
Pristine white greeted his eyes. The roosts and nesting boxes had been scrubbed and scoured, and the dirt walls whitewashed. A layer of fresh hay covered the floor, with not a feather or dropping to be seen.
“Look at the pen.” Lem pointed to the fenced yard.
Raked clean, pans of mash and water immaculate. Even the birds looked cleaner. And fresh netting surrounded a smaller pen inside where two hens and more than a dozen chicks scratched and pecked.
“She rakes it every morning and hauls the droppings to the compost heap, and she’s treated all the birds with delousing powder. You should see those crazy chooks. The minute she steps into the coop, they all squat down to be petted. Even that old rogue Napoleon eats out of her hand and almost purrs when she picks him up.”
The rooster tilted his head and regarded them with a beady eye. His tail feathers shimmered in the sunshine as he strutted.
“And I don’t know if you noticed, but the barn’s cleaner than it’s been since we put it up. No loose hay, no tools out of place, and every last piece of leather has been soaped and polished. She had me haul the manure pile to the garden and harrow it in, and bless me if she didn’t strike out across the creek to gather cow chips, some for fuel and the rest for fertilizer. I’ve had to chase her out of the garden or the barn in the evening. If I didn’t, I think she’d work all night.”
“Why?” He scratched his head. “Not that I’m not pleased with the improvements.”
“Beats me. I thought you might know. Maybe she was just filling in time. She seemed to miss you something fierce.”
Harrison smiled. That was good to know. Her cool reception of him had set him back a bit. “Then I guess she’ll taper off now that I’m home.”
He couldn’t believe the transformation inside the soddy. Clean, organized, and homelike. Little touches that said a woman lived there—everything from curtains at the window to the pretty shams on the pillows. A couple of rag rugs covered the floor, and she’d managed a set of shelves for the books he’d never unpacked. Her own books stood beside his, and atop the dresser, a chessboard and pieces stood perfectly ranked. How long had it been since he’d indulged in a game of chess? A feeling of contentment, of knowing himself blessed, settled around his heart.
She stood at the table, kneading dough. Though he needed a shave and a bath, and he wore the marks of three weeks out on the range, he didn’t care. He needed to feel her soft skin and recapture the bond he’d felt with her the moment he’d said his vows. He needed to fill the void created when he’d ridden away from her more than three weeks ago.
“Careful.” She turned her shoulder to his offer of an embrace, punched and rounded the pale ball one last time, and set it in the pan to rise.
He pushed his hat back, contentment giving way to puzzlement. “Jane, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Lem says you’ve done nothing but work the whole time I was away. I think you could slow down for a few minutes to at least say hello.”
She took a deep breath and folded her hands at her waist. “Hello. Welcome home. Your dinner will be ready in about half an hour.”
“There something interesting about the floor?”
Her chin jerked. “What?”
Impatience at the change in her made him brusque. “You keep looking at the floor. Is there something interesting there? Most folks look at each other when they talk.”
She raised her lashes, and he found himself staring into her pretty eyes, mostly brown at the moment, and still with that hurt look in the shadows.
“Is something bothering you?” If she’d just tell him what was wrong, he’d fix it, but he wasn’t a mind reader.
“No. There’s nothing bothering me. I’ve just got work to do.” She turned away and grabbed a skillet, clanking it onto the stovetop.
He shrugged. “I’ll go clean up then.”
Women. What was a man supposed to do?
Not a word about the improvements. Jane blinked hard and sliced ham into the skillet. What good did it do to work herself to a nubbin if he didn’t even notice? Her gorge rose a bit, and she swallowed. Only halfway through the day, and already she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep, to forget for a while that her husband had only married her to spite his father.
Harrison sat up to the noon meal and tucked in to the food as if he hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks. He looked thinner, more worn. She dished out another helping of ham and beans for him and added another slice of bread.
“Are you pleased about the garden? I’ve put in beans, peas, corn, turnips, carrots, and potatoes. Oh, and onions.”
He nodded. “The garden’s fine.”
Something stirred under the bed, and he jerked around. His hand closed around the broom by the door.
“Don’t. That’s just Boadicea.” Jane rose, scraping her chair on the dirt floor.
“Boadi—who?” His forehead wrinkled.
“The cat. Actually, it’s cats now. Come and see.”
She knelt beside the bed and lifted the edge of the quilt. He followed suit, but tentative, as if he expected a cougar to leap out. Instead, over the edge of a box, two green eyes blinked, and a rumbly purr rolled out accompanied by some squeaks and mewls.
“They’re waking up. I found them one morning in the barn, and she was spitting and yowling, trying to keep a coyote away from them. I brought them into the house to keep them safe, though Lem warned me she might move them out again. But she didn’t. I think she was just starved for some attention, and she knows I won’t hurt her babies. Aren’t they sweet? There are three of them.” She reached into the box and withdrew a black kitten with four tiny white feet and a white vest. “I named the mama Boadicea. It just seemed fitting, since she was so fearless defending her babies.” The kitten curled in her hand, and she raised it to her cheek, nuzzling the fur and crooning.
“First the rooster and now the cat. Is there anything you can’t tame?” His voice rumbled in his chest like the cat’s purr and sent a shiver through her. He reached out and stroked one of the kittens in the box, and she found herself longing for him to touch her that way.
She swallowed and returned the baby to its mother. “If you don’t want her in the house, I understand. Lem said they would take them into the bunkhouse.”
“Do you want them to stay?”
She stroked Boadicea’s head. “Yes. She’s good company.”
“Then she can stay.” They returned to the table, and Harrison knew he couldn’t put things off any longer. “Jane, we need to talk.”
She rested her hands in her lap, trying to keep her composure.
“Lem says he told you about the contract between my father and me for this land.”
“Yes. It came as quite a shock. I wish you’d told me yourself.” Though she trie
d not to sound accusing, she winced at the chiding in her tone.
He pushed his plate away. “I should have. I meant to, but there never seemed to be a good time. But I don’t want you to worry. I’ll meet the contract demands if it kills me. I’ve worked too hard for this and sacrificed too much.”
“Including Sylvia Norwood?” The words were out before she could stop them. She hadn’t been going to mention Sylvia at all, but the image of the beautiful woman he could’ve married had stalked her dreams for the past three weeks. The Sylvias of the world were crystal chandeliers, while the Janes were the tallow candles. One beautiful, fragile, exquisite; the other utilitarian, ordinary, and plain.
His forehead bunched. “Sylvia? You saw her picture. Can you imagine her living out here? It would be a disaster.”
But he could imagine her, Plain Jane, living here. Jane wanted to pick up the pot of coffee and dump it on his insensitive, practical, blind-as-a-mole head.
Harrison went on. “My father might think he has the upper hand, but he’s going to get quite a shock when I write and tell him I’m married.”
I bet. He’ll be horrified when he finds out Harrison Garvey of Garvey Sewing Company married a nobody because she could work hard and survive living in a dirt house in the middle of nowhere. Somebody stupid enough to believe that her husband might come to care for her.
“What happens if you can’t meet the contract?” She was proud of herself for sounding so calm when inside she hurt more than she’d ever thought possible.
“I will.” His hand fisted on the table.
“But if you don’t.” She kept her voice firm.
“The contract stipulates that if I don’t meet the demands, I will return to Columbus and take up my position in the family business.”
Return to Columbus. Return to Sylvia? What about her, Jane? If he left Wyoming Territory, would he leave her, too? She was part of his life out here, not back east. If he returned to the world of business, power, and the company of socialites as beautiful as Sylvia, surely he wouldn’t want a wallflower like Jane holding him back. Would he seek a divorce? What about the scandal? What about her sisters?
Love Is Patient Romance Collection Page 11
