Just like Pamela’s.
As she caught her friend's proud smile, Elizabeth felt her face crinkle in a lighthearted grin. Rubbing the back of her wrist across her forehead, she realized she'd just added a white streak to her already flour-smudged face. She shrugged and grimaced ruefully at her friend.
"Shall we sit down and have a cup of tea?" Pamela asked.
"Yes, let's." Elizabeth smoothed the berry-and-dough stained apron she wore over her pink calico dress. "I'm exhausted. You didn't tell me baking was such hard work."
Pamela lifted the copper teakettle from the stove. Elizabeth took down two teacups and saucers from the cabinet and set them on the table.
"It'll get easier with practice," Pamela said in a practical tone of voice.
"Practice!"
"Yes, practice. You can't fool me, Elizabeth. I know you enjoyed making that pie."
Elizabeth laughed. "You're right, I did. I never realized the satisfaction one could achieve from baking something. It reminds me of ... packing mission boxes for charity. Except that was for strangers, not someone ... people I care about." Warmth crept into her cheeks. Care for Nick? Well, of course. He saved my life. I’ll be forever grateful.
Pamela didn't seem to notice Elizabeth's slip. "There's nothing like using your efforts for something you know will bring others pleasure."
Elizabeth hurried away from her feelings for Nick. "I enjoyed the experience. You're a good teacher, Pamela." She twisted her right hand to examine the pink burn on her smooth skin. "In spite of everything that went wrong." She shook her head, then collapsed onto the chair at the end of the table. "Baking's a hazardous occupation."
"Life's a hazardous occupation." Pamela poured the tea, set the teapot back on the stove, and sat down at Elizabeth's right.
Elizabeth pushed several straggling wisps of hair away from her eyes. "You made everything look so effortless, while I was all thumbs."
"You'll have plenty more opportunities while the saskatoons are in season."
Elizabeth sipped her tea and then smiled at her friend. "You win. I admit I'm pleased with myself. Although there were some moments when I was about to give up." She gestured toward the flour-dusted sideboard.
Pamela nodded. "I could tell."
"Eggshells in the bowl. Nearly adding salt instead of sugar. Good thing you stopped me." She pushed her hair back again. "In Boston, they'd never believe what I've experienced in the last few days. She shook her head. "I don't dare write them either."
They both laughed.
"You never wrote me what your life in Montana was really like."
"It's not always like this, Beth. But, I didn't think you'd understand."
Elizabeth started to protest, then stopped. Pamela was right. "I wouldn't have. I'd just have worried." She reached across the table and clasped her friend's hand. "But now we can share everything." She thought of her confused feelings for Nick. Well, perhaps not everything.
Quick footsteps sounded on the steps. "Annie," Nick called, before peering around the partly opened outer door. "Oh. Hello, ladies." He pulled off his hat and stepped into the room. "Is that saskatoon pie I smell?"
"Yes, it is," Pamela said.
Elizabeth couldn't help it--she beamed at him.
Nick's gaze lingered on her disheveled appearance.
Heat rushed into her cheeks. Anticipation started a drumroll in her heart.
He cocked an inquiring eyebrow. A pleased smile started in one corner of his mouth and spread across his face. "It appears, Miss Hamilton," he drawled, "that you've been bakin'."
His twinkling green eyes sent a happy flush to her face.
"I made it for you, Nick. For rescuing me yesterday."
It was his turn to flush. "You baked a pie for me?"
She proudly lifted her chin. "I did."
"I'm much obliged, Elizabeth."
His slip-up of her name went unremarked by both of them.
Pamela stood up. "Why don't you join us for tea, Nick." She walked over to the cupboard to get him a cup and saucer.
"Actually, I came to see if Annie had the liniment bottle; it's missing from the barn." He glanced around the kitchen. "I don't see it around here."
Pamela frowned. "Maybe it's in John's study. I'll go look." She left the room.
"Please stay to tea, Nick," Elizabeth coaxed. "I'll slice you a piece."
He rocked back on his heels, smiled in agreement, and walked around the table to pull out the chair opposite Elizabeth. "Can't rightly pass up an offer like that."
Elizabeth jumped up to make him a cup of tea, then served him a slice.
Nick's appreciative smile sent quivers down to her toes. With great ceremony, he took his first bite. He chewed for several long moments, his face deadpan. Then his grin burst forth. "Best pie I've ever tasted."
Elizabeth's heart swelled with pride. Footsteps tapped in the hall behind her. "He likes it, Pamela," she called without turning around.
Caleb Livingston's voice sounded behind her. "I'm afraid I'm not Mrs. Carter."
Elizabeth froze in dismay.
A thundercloud crossed Nick's face.
She whirled around. "Caleb!"
He was immaculately dressed in a tan suit, a sharp contrast to her own appearance, and carrying a bouquet of lilacs.
Embarrassment flooded her. Dropping the knife on the table, she futilely tried to smooth back her hair, then untied her apron, balled the material up, and tossed it onto her chair. "I didn't expect you."
His eyebrows rose as he surveyed the scene before him. "I thought I'd surprise you. I knocked, and Sara answered. She said I'd find you in the kitchen." His tone sounded carefully neutral. "You have flour on your face."
Elizabeth wanted to run to her room. Composure, show composure, she told herself. She walked to the sink, picked up the dishtowel, wet an end, and rubbed her face. Using a dry section of the towel, she blotted her face. "Better?"
Caleb nodded, he handed her the bouquet.
"Thank you, Caleb. They're beautiful." She took a fragrant sniff, then placed the flowers into a vase, filled it with water from the pump, and set it on the table.
Caleb glanced from Nick to her--puzzlement in his eyes. "Elizabeth, what are you doing in the kitchen?"
He sounds like he caught me playing in the pigsty, Elizabeth thought resentfully. Then she reminded herself that a few weeks ago, except to give orders to the cook, she'd rarely been in a kitchen.
"Pamela taught me how to bake." She pointed to her pie. "That one's mine. We'd just finished and were having a cup of tea."
Nick stood up. "Mrs. Carter makes the best saskatoon pies around. Miss Hamilton's is just as good, if not better. If you taste it, I'm sure you'll be proud of her."
Caleb ignored Nick, directing a pointed look at Elizabeth. "Menial labor will ruin your hands."
She looked down at her hands, then curled her fingers to avoid exposing the purple berry stains around her nails, but that only made her burn evident. She twisted her hand to hide it.
Too late.
Caleb stepped forward, gently clasping her hand. His thumb brushed around her burn, careful not to touch the tender skin. "You're injured yourself. From now on you must avoid the kitchen. Leave the cooking to others."
Nick's voice was edged with steel. "You're making a mistake, Livingston. Taste that pie, man, and you'll change your mind."
"Miss Hamilton has no need to bake."
"Caleb," Elizabeth said, verbally stepping between them. "I can assure you that I'll never bake you a pie."
His face relaxed.
Pamela walked into the room holding out the bottle of liniment in front of her. "Here you go, Nick. It took me forever to find." She became aware of the banker's presence. "Why, Mr. Livingston, I didn't know you were here."
"I thought I'd surprise Miss Hamilton with a midweek visit."
Pamela's rueful gaze swept the room. "I'm afraid you haven't caught us at our best."
He lifted an eyebrow.
"I'm aware of that. Perhaps I'd better leave."
Elizabeth gave him a coaxing smile. "Caleb, don't be silly. I'm delighted you've come to visit me." I just wish I’d known in advance. "Why don't you wait in the parlor while I freshen up."
Nick held out his hand to Pamela for the liniment bottle. "I'd better head back to the barn." His tone sounded clipped. He replaced his hat. "Thank you for the pie, Miss Hamilton." His green gaze met hers in support and understanding. "It was delicious. I'd like another piece, later."
"Thank you, Nick." Elizabeth gave him a strained smile before turning to Pamela. "Could you send Dawn up to help me change?" She touched Caleb's arm. "I'll be down in a few minutes."
His face softened. He took her hand, his finger brushing her palm. As always, she melted at his special signal. He lifted it to brush his lips next to the burn. "I hate to see this beautiful skin marred in any way."
Still embarrassed by his scrutiny of her hand, she slipped her fingers out of his grasp. "The burn will heal in a few days. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go tidy up." She paused to pick up the vase of lilacs. "I'll take these to my room." She hurried from the kitchen.
Lifting her skirts, she rushed upstairs to her room. Her stomach churned, and her mind raced with the changes she needed to make. She set the vase on her dressing table, and yanked hairpins from her hair, wincing when she pulled some strands in the process.
Dawn opened the door and came to her rescue, pressing Elizabeth into the chair before the dressing table and efficiently extracting the rest of the hairpins. With a few swift strokes, the shining blond tresses lay smooth on Elizabeth's shoulders.
The Indian girl's calm penetrated through to Elizabeth, and she took some deep breaths. Relax, she told herself. It shouldn't matter that Caleb had found her at a disadvantage. After all, he'd still given her their special signal. That must mean everything's all right.
Actually, there'd been times with Richard when she'd been in an equally bedraggled state. Once they were caught in a sudden rainstorm without an umbrella. Her new red hat had drooped, leaking dye in rosy streaks across her face. Trying to wipe them away had resulted in red marks on her gloves. Richard had just laughed and kissed her. For days afterwards, he'd called her his rosy-cheeked maiden.
Then there were all those times when he'd found her painting at the shore, wearing an old dress liberally dabbed with paint, her hair tossed by the breeze. Richard always loved those moments. They certainly provided him with fodder with which to tease her.
But Caleb didn't seem to have Richard's sense of humor? Or maybe he needed to be better acquainted with her before he'd relax and allow that facet of himself to show.
Would Richard have cared if she'd baked a pie? He would have laughed and joked about it, but he probably wouldn't have approved her continuing to spend time in the kitchen. After all, that's what was what cooks were for. At least for the wealthy in Boston...
She reached out to touch a lavender petal. Richard had often brought her lilacs in the springtime. Their sweet scent always made her happy.
She smiled at her memories and let go of the last of her worries. Surely Caleb would be the same. Perhaps not today, but sometime soon, they'd laugh about the day he paid her an unexpected visit and found her with a flour-smudged face and berry-stained hands.
#
Like a locomotive at full speed, Nick barreled straight for his rock. Angry thoughts roiled in his head. His heart beat to the pounding of his stride, and he could almost feel steam blasting out his ears. Dropping the liniment bottle on the nearest clump of grass lest he throw it at the rock, Nick envisioned shattering it over Livingston's head. Better yet, a punch in the nose to wipe that haughty look off the banker's face. A broken nose could only improve the man's countenance.
Vaulting the pasture fence, he didn't even acknowledge the horses that shied away from his agitated movement. He scrambled up the rock, then sat panting, trying to rein in his outrage. How dare the man treat Elizabeth that way! Nick didn't care what Livingston said to him. He was riled up that the man would imply to Elizabeth, who was a lady no matter what menial tasks she did, that baking was beneath her. Good thing Livingston didn't know about her shooting, berry picking, or the bear attack.
If Livingston won her, he'd keep Elizabeth in a cage like a gilded bird, and never let her blossom into the vibrant person she really was. Nick shook his head in disbelief. How could that man want to clip her wings? Elizabeth had glowed with pride at her achievement. Her blue eyes had sparkled with pleasure. Beneath the dusting of flour her cheeks had been pink. For the first time she'd been totally relaxed with him. Despite her disheveled appearance, Nick had never seen her look happier, nor more beautiful.
Then, with Livingston's arrival, her body had stiffened, the glow fading from her eyes. A few words of praise from that man would have brought the light back to her face. Instead he'd squelched her spirit. And even worse, Elizabeth had accepted his criticisms.
Nick's anger drained away, only to have frustration take its place. He leaned his head back against the rock. The brilliant blue sky arched overhead, a few small puffy clouds floating into different shapes. He tried to slow his breathing to match the languid movement of the clouds, a calming trick he'd learned when he was younger.
Underneath the frustration, helplessness churned. Even when he'd been enraged with the men who'd abused Outlaw, he'd been able to do something. But Elizabeth was a person, not a horse. She controlled her own destiny, and he was powerless to stop her, even if he knew she teetered on the edge of making a mistake.
Breathe with the cloud, he reminded himself. Charging around like an angry bull would only make things worse. There had to be something he could do; he needed to think things through. He wished Miz Carter heard what Livingston had said to Elizabeth. Knowing Miz Carter, she'd have given the man what for.
With a sigh of relief, Nick realized the time would come when Livingston would again reveal his feelings about inappropriate female behavior. Then, Nick would put his foot down about Livingston's attitude. Hopefully Elizabeth would listen to him. Even better, Nick hoped the man would reveal himself in front of the Carters. That would set off fireworks.
Nick grinned. He could imagine how John would react to Livingston's implications about his beloved wife. He grinned at the thought. Regardless of future financial consequences, the banker would be ordered off the ranch at gunpoint. And Nick would be right at John's side, Colt in hand.
Meanwhile, the next time he saw Elizabeth he'd renew his praise and admiration, and not just for her baking, but for every other new thing she tried.
Before she chose to step into Livingston's gilded cage, he wanted her first to experience flying free.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A tap at the door woke Elizabeth. She rose on an elbow to glance out the window. Early morning sun streamed through the curtains deliberately left open to give her an awareness of the weather. She relaxed back against the pillows in relief. A beautiful day. "Come in," she called.
Dawn entered, carrying a silver tray with tea and toast. The normally solemn-faced girl's eyes sparkled, and pink brightened her tanned cheeks.
"Mornin', Miss Hamilton."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise. Usually Dawn went about her duties without a word. This was the first time she'd ever given Elizabeth a morning salutation.
Elizabeth sat up. "Good morning, Dawn. Is Miss Lizzy up?"
"Hoppin' around like a grasshopper." Dawn handed Elizabeth the tray.
Elizabeth smiled and took a sip of the tea. Little grasshopper, indeed. Well, every girl had a right to be excited on her birthday.
"Just set out my blue calico dress and my straw hat. I've too much work to do. Later I'll wear the rose silk. It'll need pressing."
She took a bite of her toast and chewed, reviewing her list of tasks for the day. Pamela planned on overseeing the food and set-up for the party, while Elizabeth needed to arrange the flower decorations and make sure the children looke
d their best. "You'll have your hands full keeping those children clean and neat."
Dawn rolled her eyes and nodded.
"I don't know how well Sara's hair will stay curled. You'd better keep her curl papers in until just before the party." She took another sip. "Thank goodness Lizzy's hair curls naturally."
Elizabeth slid out of bed and set the tray on her dressing table. She slipped her nightgown over her head and motioned for Dawn to help her dress. In between donning her undergarments and her dress, she finished her toast.
With a few strokes, Dawn drew the brush through her hair and twisted it into a simple bun. Elizabeth dropped a faded blue gardening apron of Pamela's over her dress, tying it behind her back. She grabbed her hat off the bed, hurried down the stairs, and found Pamela and the children in the dining room.
"You must take a few bites of toast, Lizzy," Pamela said with exasperation.
Elizabeth grinned. She could remember Pamela's mother using that exact tone of voice.
"Good morning." The words came out in a warble. "How's the birthday girl?"
Lizzy's beatific smile answered her.
"Morning, Aunt Elizabeth," chorused the children.
She set her hat on an empty chair and walked over to place a hand on each of Lizzy's cheeks. She briefly studied the delicate little face. Blue eyes bright, translucent skin tinged peach with pleasure. "Happy birthday, my dearest Goddaughter." She dropped a kiss on the child's forehead, then flashed a triumphant glance at Pamela. "Four years old!"
Her friend's eyes echoed Elizabeth's emotion, but her words sounded tart. "A four-year-old who won't eat her breakfast."
"I remember another little girl who couldn't eat when she became too excited."
"Beth," Pamela warned.
"I think your daughter comes by it naturally."
Mark grinned. "Was Mama really like that, Aunt Elizabeth?"
Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) Page 18
