She collapsed onto the settee, her strength dissipating at returning to what she had begun to consider home. “I can explain—”
“How could you do this to me, Helen?” He ran a hand through his hair, sending it standing on end. He studied her. “You aren’t even wearing a dress I obtained for you.”
“Warren, it’s not like that. Let me explain.” She looked into his eyes with a pleading gaze, although her exhaustion began to overwhelm her.
“I’m sure you believe you can. Just as you weave every tale to suit your needs.” His eyes took in her disheveled hair and exhausted state. “Is this what you’re always like when you return after a bout with a lover?”
“Warren!” she gasped. “How dare you?”
“How dare I?” His voice emerged in a low rasp as though ripped from him. “I dare because you have turned me into the laughingstock of this town. I dare because you have made it evident you desire another’s arms rather than mine.” He shook his head. “I’ve tried, Helen.”
“Have you? Have you listened to me? Have you truly discounted the vile things my mother says to you? Or do you wait, wondering when I will act in such a way to prove her correct?” She rose, as a momentary burst of energy filled her. “You tell me that I must free myself from my mother’s yoke. So must you, Warren. For she influences you as much as she does me.”
“Tell me that you weren’t at that man’s house last night. That you didn’t spend the entire night with him.”
She shook her head as disappointment filled her gaze. “I can’t. I want you to let me explain.” Her voice broke on the word explain.
He looked at her with disgust. “You never wanted me. How much pleasure you must have had in duping me.” He shook his head. “When I return from my law office this afternoon, I expect you to be gone. I want no trace that you were ever here.”
“Warren, please,” she whispered.
“No, Helen,” he rasped. “I refuse to listen to your lies.”
He stormed from the room, leaving her shaking and shattered as she sank to the settee again. After a few moments she rose, went to the guest room and changed into a clean dress. She packed the few ill-fitting dresses she owned, stuffing them into a pillowcase. After a glance around the room, she pulled the door shut and slipped from the house.
When she stood on the boardwalk, she noted the looks of those passing by. She saw Frederick’s sleigh in front of the Mercantile, and she walked in that direction. When she approached, Tobias looked up from sweeping the boardwalk in front of his store. She tried to step around him and enter his store to find Frederick, but Tobias matched her movements and used his broom to block any of her countermoves.
“Well, if it isn’t the town hussy,” he said with a delighted smile. “I expect you’ll be headed to the Boudoir soon. And this time there won’t be no big auction and no lawyer to save you.” His smile broadened as she paled.
“Please let me pass. I’m looking for someone.”
He leaned forward, causing her to back up a step. “Yes, your newest lover. Seems you aren’t the type to be satisfied with just one. The Boudoir might be too good a place for you.” He sniffed with disdain. “He ain’t here. Like you, he doesn’t know the meaning of family loyalty. Hitched the sleigh here because it was the only space at the time.” His eyes kindled with long-held resentment. “Does his shopping at the new merc across from the Boudoir now.”
Helen raised her chin and glared at Tobias. “Then Mr. Tompkins is even more astute than my brief acquaintance led me to believe.” She backed up a step as Tobias moved toward her.
“Now see here, hussy.”
“Tobias!” a woman called out, her voice irate.
Tobias stilled.
“Back away from her now, and leave her be.”
“This ain’t no concern of yours,” he said, but he unconsciously took a step backward.
“Miss Helen,” Irene Tompkins said, “I’ve missed your company. I was hoping you’d visit me today.” She looped her arm through Helen’s and towed her along beside her. After a few moments, when Helen finally matched the older woman’s stride, Irene said, “I hope you’ll forgive my nephew’s inherent meanness.”
“It’s nothing I didn’t deserve,” Helen whispered.
“Don’t be too kind to those who don’t merit such consideration,” Irene said. She pulled Helen into the café and pushed her to the back room, where Frederick sat eating a piece of pie. He smiled and then frowned at her appearance.
“Are you all right, Miss Jameson?” His sharp gaze searched her from head to toe as though looking for an injury, and he relaxed when he saw no sign of physical harm.
“I … I seem to have overstayed my welcome at Mr. Clark’s home,” she whispered as she bit her trembling bottom lip while battling tears. “I have nowhere to go.”
Frederick shared a long look with his grandparents and nodded. “I have need of a housekeeper and cook. It’s a lot to ask of one person, but you could choose the role you preferred and perhaps help out on the other chores if you had time.”
“I can’t live alone with you at your ranch,” she whispered.
“You already know you won’t be alone. There are ranch hands, and the foreman is married. You will have your own quarters, and it is perfectly respectable.” He ran a hand through his black hair. “I know I caused you this problem. I’m sorry.”
“No. My secretiveness did.” She laid her head on the table. “I’m so tired.”
Irene ran a hand down Helen’s back. “Of course you are, you poor thing.”
Helen turned her head onto her arm and looked at Frederick. “Of course I will accept your offer. It may take me a day or two before I’m at full steam as your cook. I’m a lousy housekeeper.”
Frederick laughed. “You’ll have no argument from me. The men would rather eat than find a clean house with no meals cooked for them.” He rose. “I’ll leave within the hour. Is there anything you need to gather?”
Helen kicked at the pillowcase next to her chair. “No, I have everything.”
Frederick frowned and nodded. “Fine. I’ll return for you.”
Helen ignored Irene and her husband, Harold, as they puttered around the kitchen and moved into and out of the kitchen to the adjacent café. Helen slept in fits and starts until she heard the back door to the café slam shut. “I’ll be ready in a minute,” she muttered as she tried to wake up.
“How could ye?” Sorcha hissed in a low voice. “How could ye treat Warren like this?”
Helen raised her head, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “Sorcha. I’m not up for a battle with you.”
“That man’s loved ye for years, and this is how ye treat him? With disdain and disregard?” Her light-blue eyes flashed with anger.
“You don’t understand,” Helen whispered. “No one does.”
“Ye spent the night with another man!” Sorcha snapped. “What part of that do ye think I dinna understand? Or do ye think we’re all a bunch of fools and willna worry about what ye’re doin’ because ye’re with Warren now?” She leaned forward. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll save Warren from a heartless woman like ye.”
“I’m not heartless,” Helen whispered as a tear broke free. “I was not untrue to him.”
Sorcha watched her in blatant confusion. “How do I ken ye are no’ lyin’?” She studied Helen and shook her head in frustration. “If what ye say is true, why will ye no’ explain yerself? Why will ye no’ even fight him to stay?”
“Because, whether or not you believe me, I agree with you. Warren deserves better than a woman like me.” She froze when she heard Frederick’s voice teasing his grandmother. “I must go.”
“Where are ye runnin’ to this time?” Sorcha asked. “Back to the Boudoir?”
Helen shook at the thought. “No. I hope I am never that desperate again.”
A tall figure stood in the doorway, and Sorcha glared at him. “Are ye stealin’ her?”
He laughed. “No one
is coming home with me against her will.” He looked at Helen and any humor fled. “Come, Miss Jameson. You are exhausted after last night. You can sleep beside me again in the front seat of the sleigh. Unfortunately the back seat is filled with provisions.”
“Home?” Sorcha asked. “She’s goin’ with ye?”
Frederick nodded and watched Helen go to the front of the café to speak with Irene and Harold. He met Sorcha’s irate gaze. “You should not involve yourself in what you don’t understand.”
Sorcha glared at him. “I thought ye better than this, Tompkins,” she hissed. “I thought ye were a man of honor, not someone who took advantage of the vulnerable.”
His blue eyes flared with contempt. “Don’t you dare doubt my honor, miss. You should be angry with that lawyer, not me.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “After ye had a woman at yer home for an entire evening, ye think a man shouldna be upset?”
His eyes shone with deviltry. “I’ll enjoy watching you ask me for forgiveness when you realize you’ve been mistaken. I imagine it’s not something you’re accustomed to doing.” He nodded to her. “If you will excuse me, Miss Jameson is tired, and it’s a long journey to the ranch.” He pulled on his black wide-brimmed hat. “Good day, Miss MacKinnon.” He picked up Helen’s pillowcase, joined Helen in the café and led her outside, ignoring the curious murmurs and stares of the townsfolk. After settling her in the front seat of the sleigh, wrapped in a thick layer of blankets, he set the sleigh in motion.
Warren’s head jerked upright as his law office door burst open. He bit off a snore as he came awake. “Wha—?”
“What are ye doin’? Sittin’ here, lickin’ yer wounds?” Sorcha demanded. She glared at him. “Sleepin’”? She batted him on the arm. “She’s left, ye daft man. Go after her.”
Warren ran a hand over his face, scratching at his day-old beard and then stretched. “I’m not racing after her. Not after she’s made a public fool of me. Again.”
Sorcha shut the door and sat across from him. “I admit I was irate with her when I saw her ride into town with the Tompkinses’ grandson. But I ken heartache when I see it, Warren. She was heartsick to leave yer house.”
Warren’s jaw ticked, and he glared at Sorcha. “Not nearly as much as I was when I forced her to leave.” He rose and paced behind his desk. “Do you know what it did to me to see her riding into town with another man? To know she’d spent the night with him?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I refuse to live such a life.”
Sorcha sat in silence for a while until Warren sat across from her again. “The Tompkinses are respectable. They would do nothing to jeopardize their café or their standing in this town. And yet Miss Irene came to her defense. They were pleased to see her leave with their grandson.” She shook her head. “All is not as it appears, Warren.”
“What did you say to her when you saw her?” Warren whispered.
“Oh, I screeched like the wild woman I am. Accused her of betrayin’ ye and that I’d ensure she never was with ye.” She flushed. “Then I calmed down enough to pay attention to how she was. Devastated isna a strong-enough word. She’s hurtin’. An’ it’s worse than anything done to her by her mother.”
Warren leaned forward and shook his head. “I can’t, Sorcha. I can’t chase after her anymore. Not when she’s shown me little indication that she’ll ever be interested in me.”
Sorcha’s eyes widened, and she let out a pent-up breath. “Ye truly love her.” She flushed, seeing the affirmation in Warren’s eyes. “I bellowed it at her, even though I dinna ken if it were true or not.” Her smile softened. “Ye have to go after her, Warren. Ye must determine why she would act as she did.”
Warren rubbed at his head. “No, Sorcha, not this time. I need for her to show me that she wants me. I’ve waited. I’ve helped her every way I’ve imagined she needed help. I’ve tried to show her my constancy. And she has met every action with disdain, distrust and deceit.” He closed his eyes.
“I canna say I understand. But I hope ye dinna come to regret yer stubbornness. For, if I ever loved like that, I canna imagine there is little I wouldna do to obtain it.”
Warren nodded. “I’ll remind you of this conversation when our roles are reversed.” He nodded his goodbye as Sorcha rose to return home.
Helen slept the entire ride through the valley and barely registered when strong hands and arms lifted her from the sleigh. She curled into the shoulder of the man holding her and sniffed. “Warren?” she asked groggily. “When did you change your cologne?”
She heard a chuckle and slipped back into sleep. When she woke, night was falling, and a lamp was lit in her room. She ran a hand over her dress and let out a relieved sigh to realize she was still fully clothed. She sat up with a start, as she did not recognize this room.
The white wallpaper had red flowers running through it and a window across from the four-poster bed let in the moonlight, with white curtains partially covering the windows. Upon rising, she noted the chill in the room, then closed the curtains to fully cover the windows. She poured a small amount of water from the ewer in the ceramic bowl. She sniffed at the fresh bar of soap, frowning when she inhaled the subtle scent of gardenia. She used the new soap on her face and hands. A small vanity with a brush and hand mirror was near the bureau, and she looked inside the drawers to see her dresses folded within.
A soft tap sounded at her door, and she spun to face it. “Come in.”
Frederick poked his head inside. “Good. You’re awake. There’s some dinner left for you. I wasn’t sure if you’d sleep through ’til tomorrow.”
“What am I doing here?” Helen asked, covering her mouth as she yawned.
He smiled. “You agreed to be my cook. I’m sure you’ll come to realize how desperately we need one here at the ranch. I’ve tried to make you feel as welcome as possible.”
“Thank you,” Helen whispered. “Thank you for the soap.”
He chuckled and motioned for her to follow him.
After closing the door behind her, she walked down a long hallway into a casual parlor and then into a large kitchen. It sat at the rear of the house, with windows on three sides. A large table rested along the wall with the door. “Wow,” Helen murmured. “I was too tired last night to realize how big the kitchen is.”
“It’s a big kitchen, but there are a lot of us to feed.” He frowned. “I never did think to ask if you could cook.”
She laughed. “I can cook. But I’ve never prepared meals for more than my mother, brother and me. How many work here?”
“Right now there are five of us, but the number changes as the seasons do. During the summer, there are more, but most are out on the range, with a cook preparing meals in a chuck wagon.” He motioned for her to sit, and he extracted a meal from the warming oven.
“How is Mr. Dalton?” she whispered.
Frederick froze before setting the plate in front of her. “Devastated. I wish I could say otherwise. He adored his Mary and was eager to be a father.”
“I’m so sorry.” She bowed her head and swiped away a tear, the plateful of food forgotten.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Frederick said with a frown. “You did all you could. All anyone could. The new doc refuses to come out here. He says it’s a waste of time and energy, not worth his money. And the midwife was up in the mining camp. Yet she trusts you. She’s trained you, and that was good enough for me.”
“But I couldn’t save Mary.” Helen extracted a handkerchief and swiped at her cheeks and nose.
Frederick sat with a long sigh. “Not everyone can be saved. What counts is that you tried. I’ve never seen nor heard anyone try as hard as you did. You have a tremendous skill, and I’m thankful for what you did.”
“How can you say that?” She shook her head in confusion. “I failed.”
“You showed Dalton that everything possible was done for his wife. You’ve taken away that doubt as he begins to mourn and rage against fate.
Never doubt the importance of that.” Frederick rose and pulled out a pitcher, pouring her a glass of water. “I imagine that man of yours has no idea of your talents.”
Helen hunched into herself. “Few do.”
Frederick nodded. “Seems to me a large part of the misunderstanding between the two of you would have been resolved had he known the truth.” He set down the pitcher. “Although you are our cook, if others need your help, I will never stop you from aiding them. There are those among us capable of cooking a few meals. You should never stop using your skills, as long as that is what you want.”
She swiped at her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Tompkins.”
He chuckled. “Like I said last night, call me Frederick. That’s what you bellowed when you needed something last night.” He laughed as she blushed. “Come. Eat, and then rest. You’ll find that everything will sort itself out if you are rested and not fighting hunger.”
She relaxed into his company, forcing herself to focus on his stories about his grandparents and life on the ranch as she attempted to find some enjoyment from the tales.
The following morning Helen bundled up and wandered outside to look over the ranch. The first time she had been here, she had been too busy to pay attention to her surroundings as she had focused on the childbirth. Now she glanced at the buildings and the landscape around her.
A long narrow house stood near the large barn, and she knew that was the bunkhouse for the hands. Two small houses—more like cabins—sat a little farther away with a bit of privacy near the creek. Behind the barn were paddocks, pens and a large corral. A small blacksmithing shop stood in front of the large barn, a stream of smoke coming from the fire, indicating the bellows were lit. Stacks of snow-covered logs lay beside a woodshed near the bunkhouse, with a splitting log in front. A chicken coop was between the bunkhouse and the house, and the hands were accustomed to bringing in the fresh eggs each morning.
Behind the woodhouse and a fair distance from the house stood another barn with the milking cows, goats and pigs. Helen knew from limited experience at the ranch that the water well stood on the opposite side of the house, away from the animals and the privy near the chicken coop. Another privy for the bunkhouse was behind that building.
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