Fatima hugged Pandora tighter, worry filling her. “And we’ll have about as much chance of Ellie and Shane falling in love as...as a monkey ever flying to the moon! I’ve never failed at an assignment I set myself before, Pandora. And I’ve already come to admire and care so much for Ellie. I surely would hate for this to be the first time I failed.”
Chapter 8
Ellie at last had to admit defeat in her fight with a blinding headache when she and her men finally rode out of the ranch yard. The sun now hovered an hour above the horizon, and even with her hat brim pulled down almost to her nose, the bright light slivered stabs of pain through her brain. Pulling Cinder up, she motioned to Shorty.
“I never get headaches, Shorty, but I’ve got a horrible one this morning. I’m going back and take some powders, then lie down for a while, until it goes away. You and the men go ahead, and I’ll catch up with you later.”
“You take the whole day off iffen you need it, Miz Ellie,” her wizened second in command told her. “We can handle things.”
“I know you can,” Ellie assured him, turning Cinder toward the barn.
And honestly, Shorty and her men didn’t need her supervision. They would do their work well because they took pride in being top hands. She wouldn’t have any other kind on her ranch—no, Elvina’s ranch, she reminded herself with a sigh.
Shane had left before she and her men mounted up after breakfast, as soon as she thanked him for his help and turned down his request for her to join him for dinner in Fort Worth that evening. The headache was already stirring then, but she’d thought it only a result of her early-morning talk with Darlene and the appearance of the fairy woman and her cat. A warning that the tension of not knowing her future and worrying about her sanity was causing the pain.
Now, as she unsaddled Cinder and turned him back into the corral, she wondered if there were a physical cause for her illness. Perhaps some summer malady was making the rounds. Her stomach started hurting and nausea threatened. Losing the fight for control of the roiling, turbulent nausea, she dropped Cinder’s saddle outside the barn door and raced a few feet away to vomit up her breakfast.
“Ellie, let me help.”
Straightening, Ellie saw the fairy lady by her side, holding out a wet cloth. Her nauseating illness at the moment left no room for fright. Accepting the cloth gratefully, Ellie wiped her face and mouth, the coolness of the cloth a welcome surprise. Then Fatima placed an arm around her.
“Let me help you to the house,” Fatima said.
“The saddle....”
Fatima lifted that black stick, and the saddle floated through the air and disappeared.
“I put it in the tack room,” the fairy lady said. “That’s where it goes, right?”
Ellie nodded, and leaned heavily on Fatima as she steered her toward the house. The huge white cat padded ahead of them, leading the way.
Birdie hadn’t arrived yet. Her hours matched Elvina’s waking time, not anyone else’s, and she would get there in time to prepare a tray of coffee and rolls to carry up to Elvina’s room around ten o’clock—not before. Clutching her stomach and praying she would make it to her room before she needed to vomit again, Ellie let Fatima help her up the stairwell. At the top of the stairs, she saw Darlene’s door closed, her sister having returned to bed after her early morning rising. She was probably smiling in her sleep, dreaming of her life with Rockford.
Ellie barely noticed when Fatima conjured up a thinner, silk nightgown rather than the cotton one she always wore, insisting Ellie undress and don it before she slipped into bed. However, the new gown did feel wonderful against her flushed skin.
“What’s wrong with me?” Ellie asked around a moan. Before Fatima could answer, Ellie gagged and surged over the side of the bed. Miraculously, the chamber pot slid out from beneath the mattress, lid off, in time to catch the contents of her stomach.
When she laid back, Fatima wiped her face again, then held a glass of something bubbly to her mouth. A straw stuck up from it, and Ellie eyed it warily.
“Take a little sip, please,” Fatima insisted. “It’s only soda water to settle your stomach.”
Ellie grimaced, but right now she would probably drink anything the devil himself brewed up if he said it would help her feel better. She sipped, and the lemony tasting liquid slipped down her throat. Immediately her stomach settled.
“Thank you,” she told Fatima with honest gratitude. “It worked instantly.”
“It won’t get rid of your illness any faster, I’m afraid,” Fatima said. “You’re going to have to stay in bed and let that run its course. But the drink should make it more bearable, and I’ll be here to watch over you.”
“I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of cattle,” Ellie said with a moan. She closed her eyes, hands clutching her forehead in pain.
“Here.”
Lifting Ellie’s hands, Fatima laid a cold pouch on her forehead. Astonished, Ellie opened her eyes and felt of it.
“It feels like it has ice inside,” she said in wonder.
“It does.”
“But...but there’s no ice here—”
“I did it with magic, Ellie. Don’t worry about how it came about. Just enjoy it.”
“Oh, I will.” Closing her eyes again, she luxuriated in the icy coolness, drifting toward sleep within moments. Just before she dozed off, the mattress sank, and the huge cat nudged against her side. Its purr soothed Ellie, and she laid one hand on the cat and surrendered to slumber.
Twice she woke, tossing restlessly. Each time Fatima gave her a cool drink and replaced the ice pack on her head, and she drifted back into healing sleep. The third time she woke, although she felt a lingering weakness, her headache was gone and her stomach growled with hunger. Fatima sat in the rocking chair beside her bed, and the cat still curled by her side.
“You’re looking much better,” Fatima said when Ellie glanced at her.
“I’m feeling much better. What time is it?”
“Nearly dinner time. It’s a good thing I’m here, too,” Fatima huffed. “No one’s bothered to check on you all day!”
“I don’t imagine they even knew I was home,” Ellie said in defense of her stepmother and Darlene, although dejection stabbed her at their unintentional neglect. “I’m usually out on the range all day.”
Fatima rose to her feet and indignantly plopped her hands on her hips. “That doesn’t excuse them. Your horse is in the corral. Even that housekeeper didn’t come in here to clean your room after she arrived!”
“She doesn’t clean my room, only the rest of the house. I prefer it that way.”
“Ellie Parker, you could die and no one would miss you!” Fatima strode around the room, a red curl falling from her piled high hairdo as a result of her angry movements. “Your men would think you were taking some time off and your stepmother wouldn’t think to look for you until she needed some money to buy something! You need someone to take care of you.”
“That’s the way it is, Fatima.” Ellie closed her eyes again. “Please. I’m really not in shape right now to argue with you about this.”
Fatima hurried over to the bed. “Of course you’re not. Oh, I’m so sorry. I—”
The sound of angry voices from downstairs penetrated the air, and Fatima paused, cocking her head. “Who’s that?”
“It sounds like Elvina and Birdie,” Ellie told her. “I suppose they’re having another fight.”
“Another one?”
“They’ve never gotten along. But Birdie needs the money we pay her, and she’s a wonderful cook—at least with the things Elvina likes to eat. But Birdie has her ways about her.”
A door slammed, and Fatima hurried over to the window. “She’s out in the yard, untying that horse she rode up on earlier.”
“I done told you,” Ellie heard Birdie say, her grating voice floating through the window. “I done already fixed supper—”
The door slammed again, and Elvina’s voice cut in.
“And I told you it’s called dinner, not supper!”
“Dinner, schminner, supper, dupper!” Birdie shouted. “You shoulda told me earlier I was wastin’ my time fixin’ you something to eat. That you was goin’ inta town! I wouldn’t’ve bothered, and I could’ve gone home two hours ago!”
“You’re paid for your time whether you spend eight hours or six here, Birdie!”
“Iffen I can get my work done in six, ain’t no skin offen your nose!”
“Oh, dear,” Fatima said. “She’s on her horse.”
“I quit!” Birdie yelled. “Miz Monroe, she came over yestiday and said she’d pay me a dollar more a week iffen I’d come to work for her. I told her one of the reasons I stayed on and put up with your fussiness was ‘cause I got off early now ‘n then. Since you’re gonna get huffy ‘bout that, you can find yourself someone else to take your guff!”
“Don’t you dare ride away from me, Birdie. I’m not done—”
“And Miz Monroe likes eatin’ regular meat and ‘taters! I don’t haveta make all them stupid, fancy sauces!”
Horses hooves sounded, and Ellie saw by Fatima’s grinning face that she was enjoying the scene below. In fact, she almost sensed that Fatima felt Elvina deserved having her cook and housekeeper walk out on her in such a uproar—or was there some other explanation for the contemplation mixed in with the glee on the fairy woman’s face?
Fatima wasn’t the one who would have to find a new servant for her fussy stepmother, though. Ellie’s stomach clenched in renewed nausea. And Birdie wasn’t one to be muzzled when she got a burr up her butt. By the time she got done spreading her discontent and reasons for leaving the Leaning G all over the entire county, Ellie would be lucky to find someone she could afford.
She groaned and fell back against her pillow. “Fatima? Do you have another one of those ice packs?”
Fatima hurried over to the bed, picking up that black, silver-tipped stick from the nightstand.
“What is that thing?” Ellie asked.
“Why, that’s my magic wand,” Fatima said. “Watch.”
Holding out her free hand, she waved the wand back and forth over her palm. Gold dust sparkles showered from the silver tip and filled the air. When they cleared, a new blue pouch like the previous ones lay on Fatima’s hand. She gently placed it on Ellie’s head, and the ice inside settled in a curve around Ellie’s forehead.
“I don’t care if it is or isn’t magic,” Ellie mused, closing her eyes and sighing in absolute pleasure. “It feels completely wonderful.”
“It’s magic, Ellie. Have no doubt about that.”
Fatima’s voice faded, and Ellie looked up to see her back over by the window. She heard a murmur of voices, but this time she couldn’t make out the words. Even though Ellie didn’t ask, Fatima explained what she was seeing.
“Your sister Darlene must have gone out to the bunkhouse to get your ranch cook to hitch up the buggy, Ellie. The cook’s heading back to the cook shack, and Darlene’s driving the buggy over to the porch where Elvina’s waiting for her.”
“Elvina hardly ever goes into town,” Ellie mused. “And when she does, it’s never this late in the day. Unless there’s some performance going on in town, but there’s never anything other than the travelling circus this time of year. The heat keeps people away from our area until later in the fall.”
“Well, she and your sister are all dressed up. There they go.”
Once again horse’s hooves sounded leaving the ranch yard. Still weak from her bout with stomach sickness, Ellie drifted back to sleep.
She woke once during the night, and Fatima fed her some of the most delicious soup she had ever eaten. Tender beef chunks that melted on her tongue floated in a rich, broth along with carrots and corn. She had always heard that a person with a sour stomach should avoid everything except liquids while ill, but the soup was exactly what she needed. Stomach at peace, she drifted back to sleep.
When she opened her eyes the next morning at her usual time
—just prior to dawn—Ellie felt so well it was almost as though her illness had never been. But when she looked around for Fatima and Pandora, they weren’t in sight. For a hopeful moment she tried to tell herself she’d been so sick she imagined the fairy woman and her cat—hallucinated them. Nearly before the thought could form, she admitted lying to herself. Ellie Parker had herself a fairy godmother, and the fairy godmother wasn’t about to go away until she was diddly darned good and ready.
But why was Fatima here? Surely she wasn’t going to stay with Ellie the rest of her life. She must have some mission.
Ellie sighed and scooted out of bed. She would have to wait until Fatima appeared again to ask the fairy woman that overdue question.
She washed, the beautiful silk nightgown giving further evidence Fatima and Pandora weren’t hallucinations. Dressing in her range clothing, a split skirt and clean, white blouse, she hurried down the rear stairwell leading to the kitchen.
Suddenly the enticing smell of coffee and bacon was real, not imaginary or an odor carried on a breeze through the open windows from the bunkhouse. Had Elvina found a new housekeeper that quickly? One who didn’t mind preparing something for Ellie, so she didn’t have to eat with the men?
She wandered on into the room. Fatima stood at the stove, chatting gaily with Shane, who was eating from a piled-high plate at the table. The shock of seeing Shane calmly sitting there as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world to have a lady of the evening serve him breakfast glued Ellie’s boots to the floor.
Chapter 9
Ellie blinked, then glanced at Fatima again. Shane hadn’t seen Ellie yet, but Fatima winked, though she continued talking to Shane.
This morning Fatima wore gold. A gold dress shone and sparkled in the lanterns hanging from various pegs placed around the kitchen. As with her other dresses, the gold one plunged to a daring neckline. Today several gold chains with charms dangled around her neck; gold-tipped hairpins held her coiffure in place; gold stockings covered her legs and gold slippers barely covered her feet. Her cheeks flushed charmingly in the heat from the stove, her green eyes sparkling.
For some reason, a stab of what Ellie thought could possibly be jealousy cut through her. Surely not. What could it matter to her that a devastatingly beautiful woman in a devastatingly daring gown stood talking to Shane Morgan? Shane didn’t mean a thing to Ellie except for his promised assistance to Darlene’s future plans.
While Shane laughed at something Fatima said, the devastating woman greeted Ellie. “Good morning, Ellie. My, you’re looking much better this morning.”
“I—” She glanced at Shane, who rose to his feet in her presence. His appearance stunned the words in her throat. He wore a blue workshirt, like the ranch hands wore, but the light material would be cool even with the long sleeves buttoned around his large wrists. The sleeves barely fit around nicely muscled arms, and the shirt tapered from broad shoulders to a trim waist. A red neckerchief was knotted around his brawny throat. Instead of trousers, he wore the jeans her hands preferred, also, and they wandered endlessly, and tightly, down long, well-toned legs.
Ellie cleared her throat. “I feel fine today. Good morning, Mr. Morgan.”
“Shane,” he reminded her. “Good morning.”
Fatima hurried over to Ellie. “I’ve got breakfast ready here, Ellie, so you don’t have to eat with those burping, cursing men.”
“They don’t curse when I’m...” Ellie defended them.
But her words died in her throat when Fatima’s clothing changed in front of her eyes. And not only her clothing, but her appearance. Her red hair faded to gray, although it was still coiled nicely around her head, now in braids. Her dress changed to a long, neatly-pressed gray and white calico, with a full pink apron covering the front. No chains, and no jeweled hairpins.
Ellie glanced at Fatima’s feet, and as though sensing her curiosity, Fatima picked up her skirt hem a tiny bit so Ellie could see the sensible bla
ck shoes cladding her feet.
“This is how others will see me,” she said sotto voice and with another wink. Then more loudly, “Come on over to the table, Ellie, love. I fixed your favorites this morning. Ham and eggs and home fries. Oh, and my biscuits. If I do say so myself, my biscuits are so light, I have to cover them to keep them from floating out of the pan!”
Dazed, her words still dammed in her throat, Ellie followed Fatima over to the table. She sat down across from Shane, and Fatima placed a cup of steaming coffee, already liberally laced with cream as Ellie preferred it, in front of her. Ellie heard a thump, and looked down to find Pandora settling in the chair beside her. The cat nearly covered the seat, especially when it plopped its bottom down and raised one paw, licking it and then smoothing its fur.
Shane eyed the cat warily, but Ellie easily read the flickering emotions crossing his face. First he grimaced a little at the cat’s proximity to the breakfast table, then glanced at his plate, then at Fatima, the cat’s owner. A decisive resignation settled last on his face, as he evidently thought better of antagonizing the owner of the cat, the person responsible for the delicious meal he enjoyed.
Already in love with the cat, Ellie petted Pandora as Fatima set a plate filled to nearly overflowing in front of her. Pandora’s ears perked.
“Meow.”
With a laugh, Ellie tore off a piece of ham and held it out. Pandora accepted it daintily and arranged herself more comfortably on the chair to eat.
“You’ll spoil her,” Fatima said with a tolerant smile. “I was so lucky that Mrs. Parker agreed that I could bring Pandora with me, too, when I accepted the position of housekeeper/cook she needed to fill. But then, I wouldn’t have taken it without Pandora.”
“That’s some name for a cat,” Shane put in.
“Isn’t it?” Fatima said without further explanation. “Now, the two of you eat up. There’s more if you want it.”
“I don’t understand—” Ellie began, but the smell of ham tickled her nostrils until she cut off a large bite. The questions in her mind could wait. Neither Birdie nor Cookie had ever served a meal as delicious as this one, and Ellie chewed dreamily. The ham edges curled crispy brown, as nicely turned out as the home fries mixed with onions. The egg centers were nice and mushy in firm salt-and-peppered whites. When Ellie tore open a biscuit, steam feathered from the hot center, and the fresh-churned butter she slathered on melted at a touch. She added pear preserves and ate half of the biscuit half in one bite.
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