Mischief danced in Laura’s eyes. “I’m sure in her own way she was.”
“How so?” He took a bite of the still-warm meat and chewed.
Laura nibbled at edge of her cookie. “Well, have you ever met her?”
He swallowed. “I’m not sure.”
A giggle escaped her lips. “I think you would remember her if you had. She’s about your height, wears men’s clothes and spits.”
He choked on his bite of potato. “What? She spits?”
Laura snickered. “Yes, she spits. Just like a man, and she did it on Camelia’s clean porch.”
His eyes widened. “Please tell me she didn’t do this in front of Camelia.”
A big grin split Laura’s face as she nodded. “She did.”
Clint chuckled. “How long did it take for her to tell Mrs. Green she wasn’t the kind of woman we were looking for?”
“Not long, especially after she said she’d teach Grace to shoot a gun. You should have seen Camelia’s face.” She took a bite of her cookie and tried not to laugh around it.
“I can just imagine. She hates guns and the thought of Grace holding one...well, if she hadn’t run her off, I would have.” He looked up at Laura with a grin to show he wasn’t angry, simply stating a fact.
“Well, that’s more or less what I told her.”
Curiosity filled his voice. “What exactly did you tell her?”
She grinned across at him. “I said that if you want Grace to learn how to shoot a gun, you’ll be the one to teach her.”
“You handled that quite nicely.” Clint finished his bread and pushed the empty plate to the side.
Laura handed him her uneaten cookie. She pushed away from the table. “Thank you. Now I’m off to see if I can sleep.” She yawned but covered her mouth with her hand to hide the action.
Clint took his plate to the washtub and laid it inside the shallow water. Camelia always left a little water in the tub so that in the morning whatever sauce or gravy that might still be on the plate wouldn’t harden and make washing it more difficult. He looked to Laura. “Have a good night.”
“You, too.” Then she was gone.
He grinned as he thought of her tale of the nanny. It was obvious that Laura had enjoyed Camelia’s reactions to the other woman. Laura had a sense of humor that he enjoyed. It was too bad that soon she’d be back in town and he’d miss her. Grace would miss her, too. He hoped the change in nannies wouldn’t bother his daughter too much.
* * *
Laura gasped as the smallest of the three boys began falling from the top rail of the corral.
Their mother glanced their way and yelled, “Boys! Get off that fence!” Mrs. Lindy Crock turned her attention back to Laura and Camelia. “As you can see, I have experience with children.”
Laura watched as two of the boys headed for the barn. The littlest one was making another attempt at staying on the top rail of the fence. She could see that Mrs. Crock was ignoring her children. Laura wasn’t sure if that qualified as experience in raising them.
“Did you just move here, Mrs. Crock? I don’t believe I’ve seen your boys in school.” Laura watched the little one straddle the top rail and then his gaze moved about the yard. He was probably looking for something else to get into.
“Not recently. We’ve been on the Jones place for a couple of years now. The boys are taught by me at home, Mrs. Lee. I understand you are the schoolteacher.” Her words dripped with sweetness, but Laura sensed there was vinegar in the mix.
“I am.”
“Then I will be replacing you as the child’s nanny.” She tilted her head up and proceeded to look down her nose at Laura.
From this angle, Laura decided the other woman reminded her of a horse. Her face was long and her hair hung to the side like a horse’s mane. Did she always wear it down? Or had the boys just been so active she hadn’t had time to fix it before coming out to apply for the job of being Grace’s nanny?
“Yes, I will resume teaching at the end of summer.” Laura watched as the little boy began climbing back down. With his brothers not there, she assumed he no longer felt the need to prove he could get on the top rail and stay there.
“Precisely what I thought.” With a nod of her head, Mrs. Crock turned her attention and focused all her energy on Camelia. “My husband and I are hoping to add a little girl to our family someday. Being a nanny for Grace will give me experience in how to raise a little girl.” She smiled and took a sip from the tea that Camelia had served moments earlier.
Camelia frowned. “If you are married, how are you going to take care of Grace, your husband and teach three boys what they will need to know when they grow up?”
Mrs. Crock waved her hand as if the words Camelia had just uttered were nonsense. “Oh, I’ll arrive in the morning with the boys. We will expect to eat breakfast with Grace. My husband may stop by around lunchtime, then he’ll return to the farm and take care of things until supper. Of course, I’ll head home and fix my family’s final meal of the day.”
The boys came screaming out of the barn with Richard behind them. His voice carried to the porch. “You kids stay out of this barn and away from the stallion. You’re fortunate he didn’t hurt you both.” He shook his pitchfork at them.
“Boys! Leave the nice man alone!” Mrs. Crock didn’t even bother to turn around to see if they were obeying.
Laura shook her head. Those boys were sure to get hurt or cause someone else to be hurt, if they didn’t settle down. “Mrs. Crock. Watching Grace is a full-time job. I’m afraid having other children distracting you might be a problem.” The thought of those three boys coming to her school caused her to cringe. Not that she couldn’t handle them, but they were going to be a handful if their mother ever decided to send them to school.
Mrs. Crock looked down her regal nose at Laura once more. “Am I mistaken, or don’t you also have a child that you have here every day with you?”
Laura gave tit for tat. She raised her head, looked the other woman in the eye and replied, “I do, but Hope is a quiet little girl. Not three rowdy boys.”
The chickens began to squawk and cackle as the boys explored the henhouse. They chased the hens out into the chicken pen and flapped their arms. Feathers filled the air as the chickens raced to get away from the boys. One of them grabbed a hen by the wing and proceeded to swing it around in a circle. The other two were still in hot pursuit of the other hens.
Camelia jumped to her feet. “Mrs. Crock, get control of your children!”
Mrs. Crock turned to see what they were doing. She huffed and then walked regally toward the henhouse as if nothing were out of the ordinary. When she got within hearing distance of the ruckus, the woman waved her arms and screamed, “Boys! Boys! Stop! Boys, stop!” Mrs. Crock stopped outside the fence and continued yelling at her children.
The boys ignored their mother and proceeded with their mischief. The littlest one slipped and fell. The other boy leaped over him and spotted one of the roosters. The youngest began to wail his unhappiness at being on the ground.
The rooster refused to act like a hen and run. He faced the older boy with spurs at the ready. The third continued to torment the hen he still hung on to and swung about. Mrs. Crock screamed their names over and over. “Logan! Bradley! Billy! Boys, stop that this instant!”
Laura had had enough. She walked from the porch and calmly entered the chicken yard. Grabbing the ear of the boy who still swung the hen about, she twisted it and ordered, “Let it go.” She knew she wasn’t hurting him, he’d just be startled.
The boy yelped and released the injured chicken.
Without freeing the boy’s ear, she proceeded to the baby. Pulling him up by his belt loop, again as a schoolteacher, Laura knew she wasn’t hurting the child. Sheordered, “Go to your mother and stay there.”
The boy she still held on
to yelled. “Let go! Let go! Let go!”
Laura tugged him closer to her. “You be quiet or I might just pull this ear off.” She gave it a warning tug. He hushed and the baby went running to his mother.
The other boy and the rooster were having a standoff. The rooster made deep, grumbling warning sounds as he faced the boy who by now wasn’t so sure he was up to this fight. Laura used his moment of indecision to grab his ear with her free hand.
The rooster gave a crow of triumph. Laura ordered the rooster, “You behave yourself or I’ll see you reach the bottom of a cooking pot tonight.” The rooster unfluffed his feathers and moved to check on his flock.
Then, with both boys firmly in hand, Laura marched them back to where their mother stood. She’d had all she could take of this family. It was bad enough that her children were undisciplined, but the woman had actually forgotten about the two older boys in her rush to comfort the youngest.
Mrs. Crock had gathered the baby to her and was fawning over him. “Oh, my poor baby, did those bad ole chickens hurt you?” Using her apron, she wiped at the dirty tears on his face.
Disgusted with them all, Laura pulled the boys through the gate and ordered the one nearest to close it. He did as she said with a whimper. Still holding both boys in place, Laura turned to their mother. “Mrs. Crock, I believe this interview is over. Mrs. Murphy and Mr. Shepard will decide on the position soon. If you don’t hear from them, you may assume you didn’t get the job.” She released the two boys, who hurried to their mother’s side, rubbing their red ears.
The woman gathered her children about her and hurried them to the wagon that she’d arrived on. She climbed up on the seat and looked down at Laura. “I don’t believe I want the position any longer, Mrs. Lee. This place is too dangerous for my boys.”
Laura nodded. “I’ll let Mrs. Murphy and Mr. Shepard know you are pulling your application.”
Mrs. Crock huffed, slapped the reins over the poor horse’s back and turned the wagon toward town. She pressed the baby against her side while the older boys scuffled about in the wagon bed.
Laura walked over to the chicken pen. The little hen that the boy had swung about stood by the fence with her head down and her broken wing touching the ground. Careful not to spook the chicken, Laura entered the gate. The animal raised its head and gave out a small cry. Her heart went out to it.
Camelia walked from the porch with a grin. “You sure took that situation in hand. No wonder the school board wants you to return in the fall.”
Laura gently picked the little hen up. “Have you ever set a wing before, Camelia?”
“No, and I’m not going to start now. Richard can take care of her in a few minutes, and we’ll make dumplings for dinner.” Camelia frowned. “But it’s a shame. That’s one of our best layers.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer not to kill the poor little thing. It’s not her fault those boys are a menace to everyone and everything around them.” Laura smoothed the little hen’s feathers. She was amazed that the chicken seemed to understand her actions and leaned her body more fully into Laura’s.
Camelia shook her head. “I don’t really want to clean a chicken anyway. But the final say will come from Clint.” She turned around and walked to the house.
Laura stood there holding the chicken. She’d left the girls in their room playing when Mrs. Crook had arrived. Now she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t stand out here in the hen yard all day, but she couldn’t let the chicken continue to be in pain either.
Richard stepped out of the barn. He tsked and shook his head. “What are you going to do with her? Want me to put it out of its misery?”
She couldn’t do it. The hen hadn’t asked to be injured. Laura looked at Richard. “Would you mind keeping her in one of the empty stalls until Clint gets back from the field?”
“Naw, don’t reckon I do.” He held his big hands out for the chicken.
Laura handed it over. It squawked weakly. “Be careful with her.”
“I’ll do my best, ma’am.” Richard cradled the injured bird in the crook of his arm.
She heard him mutter as he walked away, “Women ask the strangest things. If it were up to me, we’d be having chicken soup tonight.”
Walking back to the house, Laura wondered if Clint felt the same as Camelia and Richard. Would he want to kill the hen and eat her? Or would he side with her and fix the injured wing?
For reasons she couldn’t explain, Laura prayed he’d side with her. If he didn’t, she knew her feelings would be hurt, and she’d be skipping supper tonight.
Chapter Fifteen
Clint frowned. “You want me to set the chicken’s wing?”
Laura nodded. She handed Grace a hot roll. “It’s not her fault she got hurt.”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to make chicken pie?” He looked to Hope, who was playing in her potatoes. His daughter sat across from him, tearing the bread into little clumps and making them into balls.
Her eyes searched his face. “Not for me. Look, I know this is a ranch and you raise animals for food, but that little hen isn’t going to die. She just needs her wing set.” As if grasping for straws, she continued. “Camelia says she’s our best laying hen.”
Camelia buttered a roll and nodded. “She is at that.”
Clint heard her but could only focus on the word our. Laura had used the word our as if she were a part of the family. He looked deeply into her eyes. Something told him this wasn’t just about the hen. It was as if she were waiting for something. Something from him. But what?
Her cheeks turned pink under his watchful eyes. “I know I’m being silly, but I feel bad for the hen.” She turned her back on him and began gathering up the little balls of bread from around Grace’s plate. “Sweetie, we don’t play with our food, we eat it.” She patted the top of Grace’s head.
Clint sighed and looked down at his supper plate. “After the girls are in bed, we’ll go to the barn and see what we can do for your chicken,” Clint said. He didn’t know why he’d given in, but there was something in Laura’s manner that told him it was the right thing to do.
Her soft reply sent his heart to pumping. “Thank you.”
He looked from Camelia to Laura. “How did the hen get a broken wing?”
Camelia told the tale. She chuckled when she told about Laura grabbing those boys by their ears and forcing them to walk to their mother. Pride shone in her face when she looked at Laura.
“So that’s two nannies who didn’t work out,” he said. He’d known the moment that Camelia had mentioned that the woman was Lindy Crock that she wouldn’t work as a nanny for Grace.
Everyone in town knew the woman and her raucous boys. Lindy Crock liked for everyone to think she knew what she was doing. Unfortunately, even if she was good at some things, raising a houseful of boys wasn’t one of them. They were wild and disrespectful. It amazed him that she was unaware of how her youngest acted. Of the three boys, he seemed to be the worst of the lot.
Clint sighed. Thankfully, he hadn’t had to deal with the woman or her children. It probably wasn’t fair that he’d turned the hiring of a nanny over to Camelia. So far, she’d had to deal with one rude woman and another with a pack of wild boys. Neither were good candidates for a nanny.
“Come along, girls.” Laura helped both Grace and Hope from their chairs.
He pushed back from the table. Clint noticed that Camelia had already started clearing it and was stacking the dishes in the washtub. His gaze followed Laura and the girls as they left the room.
“She did good today,” Camelia said as she picked up his plate.
Clint felt guilty that Laura and Camelia had had to deal with the strange events of the day. “Maybe I should start interviewing the women myself.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m the one that is going to be stuck with her
all day while you are out working. I should get to choose the best fit for Grace and myself.” Camelia put his plate in the tub and began washing the dishes.
He had to admit that she was right. Clint walked over and stood beside Camelia. “What do you think about setting a hen’s wing?”
Camelia grinned at him. “I think it’s fine. If it were her leg the boy had broken, we’d have no choice. I’m not sure why, but for some reason Laura has become attached to the little chicken. It would break her heart if you killed it.”
He nodded. “Thanks.” Clint went into the sitting room where Laura and the girls had retired.
Laura sat with her sewing box by her side while the girls played with their rag dolls and blocks. It was a nice scene and one that he’d grown to love.
Clint went to his chair that sat beside the fireplace and picked up the big family Bible. He searched the chapters for something fun to read to the little girls. The book of Daniel opened before him, and he began to read about Daniel in the lion’s den.
Camelia entered a few minutes later and went to her favorite rocking chair. She picked up her mending and was soon rocking and working the needle back and forth through the cloth of one of his shirts.
His gaze moved to Laura, who had her head bent close to a square of blue fabric. He recognized the pattern on the blue square and grinned. It was from one of his papa’s old shirts. Laura hadn’t asked if she could use the other clothes in the chest, but he didn’t mind that she had.
Grace dropped her doll and went to sit at his feet. Hope followed but hung on to her baby doll. She tucked her finger in her mouth and looked up at him expectantly.
Laura smiled at the girls. Love shone in her eyes. She cared for the children, and from the look on her face, Laura loved them like a mother.
Did she realize how hard it was going to be for her when she left the ranch and Grace? And how was Grace going to react at the loss of her nanny? He’d thought at first it would be easy to replace Laura; now he wasn’t so sure. Would they ever find a nanny like Laura? Clint snuck a quick look at her. She was more than a nanny to him and Grace. And he knew there’d never be anyone like Laura Lee.
Baby On Her Doorstep Page 11
