Texas Cinderella

by Winnie Griggs

  Riley paused in the doorway. “I’ll leave this open so we can hear you call out if you need anything,” he told Pru.

  As he headed back to the kitchen it occurred to him that in less than twenty-four hours, this place had begun to feel like home.

  * * *

  Once they were finished with breakfast, Cassie Lynn opened the oven to check on the fruit tarts. Pleased with the golden color of the crust, she began carefully transferring them to the counter.

  “Those look really good,” Noah said, an appreciative gleam in his eye.

  “Thank you.” She set the last of them on the cooling rack. “But I’m afraid they aren’t for us. I baked them to sell to the lady who runs the tea shop.”

  “Oh.”

  Cassie Lynn smiled at his crestfallen expression. “Don’t worry, I plan to do some more baking this afternoon. We’ll be having pie with our supper tonight.”

  She moved to the table and began clearing the dishes.

  Mr. Walker immediately stood to help, instructing Noah to do likewise. When the last of the dishes had been transported to the sink, the man rolled up his sleeves. “Do you prefer to wash or dry?”

  Cassie Lynn started to wave away his offer, then changed her mind. He likely wanted to contribute and she was becoming accustomed to his unexpected offers to help with the housework. “Wash.”

  “While she gets started on that,” Mrs. Flanagan said to Mr. Walker, “you can push my chair into the parlor.” She turned to Noah. “If you will come along, I have something to show you.”

  As Cassie Lynn watched Mr. Walker obediently push her wheelchair from the room, she smiled. She’d been right about how having company would be good for her employer. The woman was more alert and spirited than Cassie had seen her in all the time she’d been here. And she seemed to have taken a shine to Noah especially.

  * * *

  Riley accepted a clean plate from Miss Vickers and set about drying it. “Mind if I ask what all those pies and tarts are for?”

  “I’m trying to start up a bakery business. Those have been ordered by the restaurant and the tea shop.”

  Impressive. “That’s very enterprising of you.”

  She gave him a challenging look. “Women are capable of more than housework, you know.”

  He lifted a hand as if to ward off a blow. “You’ll get no argument from me on that. I just meant with all you do around here that I’m surprised you have time to work on this, too.”

  That seemed to mollify her. “I baked the pies after everyone else went to bed last night. And while they were baking I made the filling for the tarts. This morning I just needed to make the crusts and stick them in the oven.”

  “So do you plan to go into baking full-time when your work here for Mrs. Flanagan is done?”

  He saw some emotion flash in Miss Vickers’s face. It was there and gone too quickly for him to read, but he got the distinct impression his question had touched on a sore spot for her.

  “I hope to.” Her tone gave nothing away. “But I’ll have to wait and see how things go.”

  He wondered idly why such a pretty, clever, ambitious woman didn’t have a husband or at least a beau. Was there a story there?

  Not that it was any of his business.

  “By the way,” she said, handing him another plate, “do you mind if I ask what your work schedule is?”

  “Mr. Humphries asked me to work for an hour or so in the mornings, and again in the afternoon during his busy times. I also told him I’d meet the trains when they pulled into the depot, to see if anyone needed to rent a horse or buggy.” He shrugged. “But now that the kids are sick, I’m going to talk to him about cutting back—”

  She raised a wet hand to stop him. “No need. In fact, it’s probably good for you to get out some. I just wanted to know what to expect.” She gave him an earnest look. “I’d like to make certain you and I aren’t gone at the same time, so Mrs. Flanagan isn’t left alone with the kids. I mean, she’d probably be able to handle whatever came up, but just in case—”

  It was his turn to interrupt her. “No need to say more. I agree completely.”

  “Then, if you don’t need to be at the livery right away, I’d like to deliver these baked goods as soon as we finish here. I promise it won’t take me long.”

  After she’d gone, Riley went to check on the kids. Pru was sleeping again and Noah was in the parlor playing with the cat, while Mrs. Flanagan watched them.

  Feeling at loose ends, Riley stepped out on the back porch and stared at nothing in particular. Already, this place was weaving a spell on him. It was a real honest-to-goodness home, and moreover it felt like one.

  And it was such a seductive feeling, one that made it easy to forget the danger they were in.

  Of course, if his meeting with Detective Claypool and the informant he’d tracked down actually resulted in the break they were hoping for, perhaps he and the kids would actually have a chance to lead a normal life again.

  But that was a big if.

  He bowed his head.

  Please, Father Almighty, let this meeting on Wednesday lead to something solid. I’m not certain how much more of this me and the kids can take.

  Chapter Eight

  “I take it your deliveries went well.”

  Cassie Lynn nodded in response to Mrs. Flanagan as she set her hamper on the counter. Mr. Walker had headed out the door almost as soon as she’d walked in, stating that he needed to stop at the hotel to have their things sent over before he went to work at the livery. Apparently, Pru had a book among her things that she’d been asking after.

  “Daisy put the pies on her menu,” Cassie Lynn said in answer to the question, “and Mrs. Dawson told me the choir was meeting there for tea this afternoon and she was sure they’d want the tarts.”

  Mrs. Flanagan nodded in satisfaction. “This bakery business is going to do well, just you wait and see.”

  Cassie Lynn smiled, then looked around. “Where’s Noah?”

  “With his sister. I got out my sons’ old checker game and suggested he play with her to keep her mind off of her chicken pox.”

  Cassie Lynn nodded. “That’s good. I don’t suppose he’s showing symptoms yet?”

  “Not yet. But I expect he will in the next day or so.” Then her employer turned serious. “You and I need to talk.”

  Puzzled, Cassie Lynn walked to the table and took a seat across from her. “Of course. Is there something you need me to do?”

  “What I need is to know whether or not you’re still interested in pursuing a marriage partner.”

  Cassie Lynn felt an unexpected twinge of guilt at the question. But she tamped it down. “Of course I’m still interested. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I’ve seen the way you look at Mr. Walker. It’s going to be difficult for you to find yourself a husband if you’re already smitten with another man.”

  “Smitten! That’s absurd. I hardly know Mr. Walker.” But even as she protested, she felt a flush warm her cheeks.

  Mrs. Flanagan didn’t say anything, just continued to stare pointedly at her.

  Cassie Lynn felt compelled to break the silence. “Besides, even if it were true, that doesn’t change anything. You heard Mr. Walker. He plans to leave town just as soon as Pru and Noah are well and able to travel.”

  “But that doesn’t change the fact that you are attracted to him.”

  “I barely know the man,” she protested. “And as I’ve said all along, my selection of a man to marry will have nothing to do with emotional entanglements.”

  “Easier said than done. And don’t forget, you’ll be living under the same roof with Mr. Walker and sharing your meals with him for the next two weeks.”

  “That won’t make any difference.” Cassie Lynn s
tood. “But you’re right about how busy my days are going to be for a while. Perhaps I’ll limit my search for the time being to developing a strong list of candidates and to figuring out my approach. Then, once Mr. Walker and his charges leave, I’ll be prepared to act.” Or as prepared as she could be. “After all, the goal wasn’t necessarily to be married in five weeks, just to have a committed suitor by then.”

  Cassie Lynn tied her apron behind her back. “That being said, have you thought of any additional men I should consider?”

  Mrs. Flanagan had apparently been ready for that question. “What do you think of Jarvis Edmondson?”

  “Mr. Edmondson, the blacksmith?”

  Her employer nodded. “He’s a widower, going on five years now. He and Mary Ann had a happy marriage, as far as I could tell. He lives here in town, no one’s ever complained about his honesty, and he attends church every Sunday. And Mary Ann made beautiful tatted lace that she sold to Hazel at the dress shop, so I don’t think he’d have a problem with a wife who wanted to sell baked goods. Sounds to me as if he meets all the requirements you laid out.”

  “But he must be close to fifty years old.”

  “He’s forty-eight.” Mrs. Flanagan raised a brow. “And you never mentioned having an age requirement. I thought this was to be a businesslike arrangement.”

  “Yes, of course, but...” Cassie Lynn’s voice trailed off, since she couldn’t think of a good way to end that sentence.

  “But he’s not Mr. Walker.”

  She moved to the pantry, feeling the need for action. “Mr. Edmondson sounds like a very good candidate. I’ll add him to the list along with Mr. Drummond and Mr. Morris.”

  “Have you given any thought to how you’ll approach these gentlemen? After all, it’s not very often a woman proposes to a man.”

  That, of course, was the most difficult part of her plan. “I believe the direct approach will be best. Explain my situation and how a marriage based on practicality rather than emotion could be a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  “I see. Well, I suggest you practice exactly what you plan to say before you approach one of your candidates. And if you could practice with a trusted male friend, that would be best.”

  Cassie Lynn couldn’t hold back a quick grimace. Problem was, she didn’t have any male friends, trusted or otherwise. Mr. Chandler was the closest thing, but even though he’d been in a similar situation not too long ago, she couldn’t picture herself confiding in him.

  Then, she straightened. The stakes were too high for her to let pride stand in her way. When the time came, she would do what needed to be done.

  But now was not that time. “I think I’ll go check on the children and see if I can talk Pru into another bowl of broth. The more we can get her to eat, the better.”

  Cassie Lynn walked down the hall, her mood sober. She was afraid. There, she’d admitted it. As much as she talked about just being direct and matter-of-fact, she wasn’t certain she could pull it off. She’d been praying about it, and as much as she knew she should leave this all in God’s hands, a part of her kept pulling the problem back into her own lap to worry over. The idea of approaching a man she didn’t know and laying her unorthodox plan out before him left her shaking.

  But she really didn’t have any other choice.

  Or did she?

  Before she reached the kids’ room, there was a loud buzz that indicated someone was at the front door. Cassie Lynn changed course and discovered Calvin Hendricks standing on the porch.

  The youth doffed his hat and gave her a smile. “Morning, Miss Vickers. A Mr. Walker asked me to bring these here.” He waved to a handcart at the foot of the steps that contained a trunk and a large leather satchel. “Would you like me to carry them in?”

  She nodded and stepped outside. “It looks like you might need a hand with that trunk.” Calvin stacked the satchel on top of the well-used trunk and they each grabbed an end. Within minutes they had the luggage situated in the parlor. She’d leave it there until Mr. Walker returned and decided what he wanted to do with them.

  After Calvin had gone, Cassie Lynn studied the two pieces. The trio was apparently traveling light. Was this everything they owned or had they shipped the rest of their things to their ultimate destination?

  She wondered again at this strange sort of nomadic lifestyle Mr. Walker was living with the children. He seemed to care so much about them, she would’ve thought he would want to give them more of a settled home life.

  He must have his reasons, and it really wasn’t any of her business.

  Except that she was beginning to care a great deal about these three travelers, a lot more than seemed possible for folks she’d known for such a short time.

  * * *

  When Riley returned to Mrs. Flanagan’s home at the end of his morning shift at the livery, he went around to the back without letting himself ponder why he wanted to enter through the kitchen. He paused before climbing the porch steps. Though he was anxious to check on the kids, he figured the ladies would probably appreciate it if he washed up from his work before entering the house.

  He dipped some water from the rain barrel near the back porch and quickly washed. Feeling more presentable, he climbed the steps and knocked on the screen door before stepping inside without waiting for a response.

  Miss Vickers looked up from her work at the stove and gave him a welcoming smile. “Hello. How was your morning at the livery?”

  He leaned against the doorjamb. “It was busy, but I enjoy the work. How’s Pru doing?”

  “Itchy and uncomfortable, but she’s resting right now.”

  “And Noah?”

  “He hasn’t shown signs of coming down with chicken pox yet, but it could be as long as a week or two. He and Mrs. Flanagan are in the parlor entertaining each other.”

  Riley cast a quick look in that direction, his brow furrowed. “I hope he’s not bothering her.”

  “On the contrary, I think she’s enjoying herself more than she has in quite some time.” Cassie put down her cook spoon. “Lunch will be ready in about thirty minutes, but if you’re hungry now I—”

  He held up a hand. “I can wait. I don’t expect you to go out of your way to accommodate me.” Then he straightened. “I’ll go say hello to Noah and Pru.”

  He returned a few minutes later. “Pru was sleeping when I looked in on her, so I didn’t wake her.”

  “That’s good. As long as she’s sleeping, the itching can’t bother her.” Miss Vickers closed the cabinet door. “Did you see Noah?”

  “Just for a moment. He and Mrs. Flanagan were in the middle of what appeared to be a tiebreaker game of checkers.”

  She grinned. “I told you Mrs. Flanagan would enjoy his company.”

  Riley inhaled appreciatively. “Whatever it is you’re cooking smells mighty good.”

  “Thanks. It’s lamb and vegetable stew.”

  “Sounds as good as it smells.” Then he moved to the cupboard. “Why don’t I get started on setting the table for you?”

  “Thank you. I talked Mrs. Flanagan into having lunch here in the kitchen, so we won’t need to carry the dishes very far. She’s insisted that we will have our evening meal in the dining room, though, like civilized people.”

  He smiled at Miss Vickers’s droll tone and began pulling out the dishes. “By the way, did our luggage arrive?”

  She nodded, looking up at him. “It did. But I wasn’t sure if you’d want it in the attic with you or in the room with the kids, so we set it in the parlor for now.”

  “I’ll put it away before I head back to the livery this afternoon.”

  Miss Vickers waved her hand. “There’s no rush. It’s certainly not in anyone’s way where it is.”

  She eyed him curiously. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
”

  Riley paused, glad he had his back to her. What did she want to know? There was so much he couldn’t say, so many secrets he had to keep. It was one reason he’d avoided making any kind of close friendships for the past year and a half.

  But he could hardly refuse to let her ask her question, not with all she’d done for him in the past twenty-four hours. “What did you want to know?”

  Please, God, don’t let her ask me something I can’t answer. I surely don’t want to tell her a lie.

  “I was just wondering, is that your only luggage?”

  The relief that washed over him was almost a physical thing. That was a question he could answer freely. “It is. We travel light.” He kept his tone carefully casual. There was no need to explain that they’d had to leave a large part of the kids’ belongings behind three towns ago.

  He began placing the dishes on the table.

  After a few moments of silence, she asked another question. “Do you know if Pru likes to read?”

  Her sudden change of subject surprised him, but he nodded. “She does. And she’s trying to teach Noah to read, as well.”

  Miss Vickers straightened, a concerned frown on her face. “Did Noah have trouble with reading in school?”

  Riley had said too much. How did she get under his guard that way? “Noah hasn’t been able to spend much time in school this past year.”

  “Oh?”

  He heard the question in her one-word response, but pretended not to. Her obvious concern over the children missing school chaffed at his conscience. But they’d moved around so much it just hadn’t been practical.

  After a moment, she seemed to get the message and gave him a bright, it’s-none-of-my-business smile. “Well, school starts back up in about four weeks. If you all are still around at that time, perhaps you can enroll both Noah and Pru. Turnabout has some mighty fine teachers.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Riley inserted a firmness in his tone. “But we won’t be here that long. As I mentioned before, this was a temporary stop on our trip.” Best to make sure she understood that was not going to change.