His mother’s quip made Patrick laugh. “Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll go talk to her. You can come with me.”
“No. I’ll go see about her. You two stay here.”
“Maureen Langley, you are not going out in this weather. Let the boy go.”
At twenty-five, he’d grown tired of being called a boy. But he didn’t grumble much. As long as he lived with his parents, they would see him as their young son. Thankfully, the new, larger house was completed. He would be helping his parents finish moving in the next couple days and he’d stay in the current cabin. He’d finally be on his own.
After supper, Patrick took a lantern and put his still damp coat on. The full moon was high in the sky as the heavy rain persisted. At least there wasn’t thunder and lightning now. The livestock, especially the horses, would calm down.
He hesitated at the door, wondering if he should knock. Feeling silly, he pulled the door open and walked inside.
“Miss?”
There wasn’t a sound. Had the girl up and left? Patrick walked to the corner where the small stove and cot were. She sat on the cot with her arms wrapped around her legs, her head lulled to the side atop of her arms. From her shallow breathing, she’d fallen asleep.
“Of all the things,” Patrick muttered and went to the stove to shove another log into it.
He then turned to find her watching him in silence. “You should lie down. The blankets will keep you warm.”
“What do you want?”
“Ma asked me to come and check on you. She’s afraid you’ll set the barn on fire.”
Her eyes rounded, but she soon regained her bored expression. “Why the heck would I do that?”
“Don’t know.” He studied her in the glow of his lantern. She wasn’t beautiful. He’d describe her more as pretty. She possessed wide-set eyes and an average nose. Her lips, however, took his attention. They were plump and pink. Her brown hair, a disheveled mess, was dark and wavy. She watched him with the wary expression of someone expecting to be attacked.
“Tell your ma I won’t set the barn on fire. I like animals more than people and I wouldn’t want them in danger. I’ll be gone in the morning.”
He wanted to ask where she’d head, but decided against it. “I’ll bid you goodnight then.” Something about her made him want to reassure that she’d be safe. But it would be a lie. He had no idea what would happen to the woman. Her father would most likely catch up with her. Other than a beating, he didn’t figure much else was sure in her future.
“The logs I just put in should last a few hours.”
She glanced to the stove, but didn’t reply.
“Let us know if you needed anything.”
After she nodded, he walked back out. Although he didn’t know her and there was no way to know if she lied about setting a fire, he believed her.
Hopefully, it was enough to settle his mother’s mind.
In the morning, she’d be gone and he would probably not see her for a long while.
The full moon shined through Patrick’s window and across his bed. He considered getting up and closing the curtains, but something about how the light shined was too nice not to enjoy.
Not prone to being a dreamer, it struck Patrick as strange that, as of late, he’d been spending a lot of time thinking about what to do in the next few years.
He and his parents had plenty of land and their herd of cattle had multiplied that spring. However, there was more that could be done. They could farm or bring in another type of livestock.
Then there was the problem of finding a wife and settling down. He’d gone to town every Sunday and other than the wives of men in town, women of marrying age were quite scarce in the area.
A couple of new families had arrived to New Dawn Springs and his mother had roped him in to help host a dinner at the church hall, which didn’t appeal to Patrick. All the single men would be there as it was rumored each family had daughters of marrying age.
If it was true, Patrick doubted the women would find any of the single men in town, including him, desirable in the least.
At least he’d get good food and dessert out of it. Whenever there was an event, the women always seemed to compete to see who cooked the best of everything, which meant a bonanza of good eating.
He stood and looked toward the barn. The Davis’ wouldn’t be in attendance. They never participated in any social events. It was certainly a strange family the woman in the barn belonged to.
She would be gone in the morning.
Chapter 2
It was barely sunrise and already Emma’s bravery faltered as she walked toward town keeping to the side of the well-worn road. If she returned home and apologized, there was a chance her father would not beat her. She was cold, hungry and could barely walk. One of the cuts on her left foot was quite deep and every step made her wince.
The shoes Patrick had loaned her helped, but they were a bit tight. With the addition of bandaging, her feet protested continuously. She wore the nightgown under her dress, which helped keep her warm, but it wasn’t enough against the cold wind that decided to pick up.
Her hair blew sideways across her face as she stopped by a grouping of trees to take shelter. With only six dollars in her pocket, it was doubtful she’d get very far once arriving in town. But any distance was better than remaining there.
It wouldn’t matter how much she apologized or asked for forgiveness, the punishment would come in one way or another.
No, she could not go back. She would not allow her father to continue beating her for every little offense while her mother stood idly by. There was also the knowledge he meant to do more than just hit her. Something about the way he’d acted toward her as of late made the hair on the nape of her neck stand on end.
Filled with determination, she took a step forward only to stop at the sound of horses approaching.
There was nowhere to hide. Emma turned in a circle in a futile attempt to find a hiding place. Finally, she rushed to crouch behind a small bush.
Two men on horseback went past, neither seeming particularly interested in looking in her direction. She didn’t recognize either of them, not that it meant much since she rarely went anywhere past the small ranch where she lived. Dusting her clothes, she watched them with curiosity until they disappeared.
Once again, she began walking in the direction of town. It would be midday by the time she arrived, later perhaps if her feet had any say in it. Peering left and right, she wished a structure of some kind would appear and she could go ask for help. She imagined a door opening to welcome her with hot food and a warm bed. In her mind, she saw herself in a new dress, having tea and sweet cakes while chatting with other women.
Her lips twisted at the silly notions. No one in town would ever invite her to tea. And she would never have a nice dress to wear. Her clothes were crudely made as her mother took little interest in showing her how to sew. For the most part, she wore whatever Amelia gave her or discarded dresses that her mother had ruined in her attempts at making them. Emma had done her best to fix them but, in her limited experience, sometimes they ended up worse.
A crow cawed overhead and she watched as it alit on a branch along with four others and watched her with unblinking eyes. Emma shuddered. Hopefully, it wasn’t a bad omen of things to come.
Just then, the sound of a wagon approaching sent her into a panic. Too distracted by her musings, she’d not kept an ear out for anyone approaching. She swung around to see none other than Patrick Langley nearing.
“You didn’t get very far,” he called out. His green gaze moved over her obviously ridiculous outfit. “I tried to bring you breakfast and found you’d left.”
She looked to the bench beside him. “You delivering?”
“Nope. You can barely walk. Come on, I’ll take you to town.”
He climbed down and rounded the wagon to stand on the other side. “Come on, I don’t have much time. Have to get back home to get work done.”
&
nbsp; She went to him and allowed him to help her up onto the bench. Once there, he pulled a blanket from under the boards and wrapped it around her. “You must be freezing.” His voice was flat, without emotion, which suited her just fine. As it was, she was close to tears at the first ebbs of warmth from the blanket and the reprieve to her painful feet.
“Where exactly are you going anyway?” Patrick snapped the reins gently to set the horse to amble forward.
Emma considered what she would say. Although she’d plan to leave home and get as far away as possible, she’d not had time to plan exactly.
“I will find someone to take me as far as possible. I have a bit of money and am willing to work to repay any help I receive.”
Patrick snorted. “It’s a good way to end up in a brothel or worse.”
A gasp escaped her at his implication and she glared at him. “What could be worse than a brothel?”
“Dead on the side of the road.”
Emma slid a look to the ground. “I suppose you’re right. But I am smart enough to know if the situation doesn’t seem right.”
“Are you?” Patrick retorted, but then said nothing more. Instead, he turned the wagon around, back in the direction they’d come.
“What are you doing? Emma cried. “I want to go to town. Stop so I can get down.”
“Nope. You’re coming back with me. Ma and Pa are moving to the big house today, so you can stay in the cabin. No one will bother you there. Once you come up with a better plan, I will take you to wherever it is you want to go.”
“You can’t be telling me what I should and should not do. I don’t answer to you Patrick Langley.”
He kept his eyes forward, ignoring her annoyed huff.
Just a few minutes later, the cabin came into view and Emma braced herself for his parents’ reaction to her presence.
He seemed to sense her apprehension. “What’s wrong now?”
“I don’t want to see your parents. I’ll just go back to the barn if that’s all right with you.”
By his shrug, Patrick didn’t care one way or the other. He’d been helpful, in a way, as his plan made sense. As long as she could stay hidden where no one would know she was about, it could work.
Once again, she found herself back in the corner of the barn. After putting a new log into the small stove, she sat on the cot and pondered what to do about her feet. Gingerly, she removed the left shoe to find that her bandage was soaked in blood. “Dang it.”
It was best to boil water and find a way to clean out the wound to keep it from festering. Getting up, she hobbled to a bucket of water Patrick had left the night before and dipped a small pot into it. Once she placed it on the stove, she again sat on the cot.
A tear slipped down her cheek at realizing how insignificant she must appear. Nothing to her name, not even a pair of shoes or a coat. Without a brush or comb, she had to use her fingers to rake through the tangles of her waist-long hair.
Unwilling to feel sorry for herself, Emma studied the surroundings. There was plenty there in the barn to make do with. First, she’d clean up and then she’d find something to eat. Her stomach grumbled in agreement at the thought.
At midday, the sun shined brightly and Emma felt much better. Her washed dress was drying by the stove. She’d managed to soap up and rinse behind the barn, which helped her feel much better. After donning the warm, borrowed nightgown, she once again bandaged her foot and sat on the cot and untangled her hair with a brush used for horses that she’d cleaned with the soapy water.
Patrick found her cross-legged on the cot, braiding her hair, when he walked in with a bowl of food. “I brought you some reheated stew.” He eyed the now empty buckets. “I’ll fetch more water from the pump.”
“Thank you,” Emma grabbed the bowl and began to eat greedily. “I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
He seemed surprised at her words by the rising of his brows. “I’ll see about that water.”
That evening, Emma went to the doorway and peered out toward the house. The traveling between the two homes by the family and ranch hands had finally stopped. From the looks of it, everyone had gone to the new house. It was a fancy two-story, whitewashed, wooden structure, much like the houses in town.
On occasion, she’d gone nearby to look at it, marveling at how wonderful it must be on the inside. With a wide porch across the front of it, the house was welcoming. There was a second story and she wondered why the family would need so much space as they only had one son.
On the front porch were rockers. And large front windows provided a view of the fields and part of the barn.
In her opinion, the cabin was just as nice. It was well-made and sturdy. She looked to the cabin which, compared to the shack she’d lived in, was more than she ever dreamed of living in.
A goat ambled across her view, stopping to look at her with unblinking eyes. It was followed by a second and third that ignored her presence and nudged at each other. The animals had escaped their pen and were now roaming about, prancing in circles in celebration.
Emma decided she could scare them back to the pen. So she pulled on shoes and went toward the goats. They ignored her as she waved her arms and tried to guide them toward the pen with its gate wide open.
The goats seemed to think it was a game as they circled her and pranced. “Shoo! Go on now,” she called out and attempted to grab the closest one.
When the second one butted her from behind, she lost her balance and stumbled forward, almost falling.
“They escape all the time,” Patrick said, watching from the cabin door. “The best way to get them back into the pen is with food.” He held carrots in one hand and ambled to the pen and whistled.
The goats stopped paying her any mind and rushed to where Patrick stood holding out the carrots.
Instead of chastising the unruly trio, he patiently feed them the carrots making sure that each got its fair share. Emma rolled her eyes and returned to the barn. The last thing the animals deserved was a reward. Sitting on the cot, she wondered what her days would be like. Of course, she’d offer to help with chores. Somehow, she’d have to find a way to stay out of sight since his father would undoubtedly be coming to the barn.
“You’ll be staying in the cabin. There’s plenty of room.”
She’d not heard him enter. If nothing else, she really needed to work on staying alert.
“Oh. Inside?” Words evaded her for a moment as he motioned for her to follow. “Do your parents agree that I stay here?”
From behind, Emma couldn’t help but admire Patrick’s wide back and trim hips as he walked to the cabin with her following. Only a blind woman would be able to keep from admiring the handsome Irishman. Not only were his stature and physique alluring, but also his perfect features of long-lashed eyes, full lips and strong jaw.
Emma shook her head. At this rate, her musings and lack of attention to her surroundings would be her undoing. Her father had not returned yet. He probably thought her long gone or he was waiting, thinking she’d give up once she became too hungry or cold.
“I have not told my parents. Not yet.”
Chapter 3
Emma sat on a rug in front of the fireplace enjoying the warmth of it seeping into her bones. After days of being cold, she couldn’t get enough of it.
“There’s some leftover stew if you want to eat.” Patrick sat on a chair facing the fire with a bowl and began spooning it into this mouth.
The smell of food was too hard to resist. She hurried to the kitchen table to get food.
Unsure how to phrase her question, she slid a sideways glance at him. “Are you going to live here?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Common sense meant it was better to hide in the cabin since no one would think to look for her there. However, there was the obvious problem of whether Patrick would also stay there. It wasn’t proper to stay if he did. Not that propriety mattered at the moment.
“My father goes int
o the barn. So do the ranch hands. You’d be found there today, actually, as we plan to clean out the stalls.” He seemed to read her mind.
“We will stay out of each other’s ways. I’ll be gone all day and eat supper at my parents. I’ll only be here to sleep.”
It seemed Patrick had thought things out. Staying in the cabin would give her foot time to properly heal. Perhaps she could send Amelia a message with Patrick and ask for help in leaving. Surely the Banks had connections; someone who needed a maid.
“I will cook and clean until I am well enough to travel,” she offered, getting some of the stew. “Does that suit you?”
“There’s no need.” He continued eating, his attention on the fire. There was a tightening in his jaw as if he fought some sort of internal battle.
With a dish of stew and a cold biscuit in hand, she lowered in front of the hearth to sit on a rug. “Your mother is a wonderful cook.”
“Yes, she is.” They ate in silence. When Emma finished, she stood to clean her dish. Patrick began choking, his coughs rather alarming. When she moved toward him, he jumped to his feet and went to put his bowl away.
She frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“I can see through your nightgown when you stand up.”
With rounded eyes and mouth forming an “O”, she gaped up at him. “I didn’t realize...”
“I know. I shouldn’t have looked.”
A wave of heat warmed her face. “I’m sorry.”
Suddenly, his lips curved. “I should be thanking you. You’re a lovely woman.”
Once again, she gaped at him. “Now, you’re lying. I know I’m plain.”
He studied her face and shrugged. “If you say so.” He then went back to the chair, moved a lamp closer and began to read.
Surely he’d not seen more than an outline of her body. Although she itched to ask, instead she went to the kitchen, washed the dirty bowls and tidied up.
Patrick wanted to laugh at putting Emma in a predicament. He felt her gaze on him while he read. She was a lovely creature, indeed. Perhaps he’d been rash to consider her just pretty.
Patrick's Proposal (The Langley Legacy Book 2) Page 2
