by Jane Shoup
“Nice to meet you,” she replied as she shook it, chancing a glance at Tommy. He wasn’t looking at her.
“Wood, here, is interested in becoming a part of your venture,” Emmett explained.
“Oh?” She looked at Tommy again. This time, she received a nod of confirmation. “That’s wonderful.”
“And you understand there’s no pay until we sell the first crop?” Tommy asked him.
Wood nodded. “I got it. Room, board and then ten percent of the profit.”
“That’s right,” Tommy said.
“And for that, I act as foreman, as well as general help.”
“Yes, sir,” Tommy replied, nodding once.
Wood stuck out his hand. “Sounds good to me. As long as, knowing what you do, it sounds good to you.”
Tommy sealed the agreement with a handshake.
Emmett looked highly pleased. “I told Wood that for a long time you had to have a name that rhymed with Em to work the farm,” he said, winking at her. “Ben, Em, Jim and then there’s me, T. Emmett Rice, not that I was ever much help in the manual labor department.”
“And not that Jim ever did much work,” Em added.
Wood grinned. “And I told him I’d change my name if need be. Maybe to . . . wind. I been told I have a lot of that.”
They all smiled. “Naw, hardly necessary anymore,” Emmett said. “Tommy, here, went and broke the pattern. And we’re awful glad of it, aren’t we, Emmy?”
Em was painfully aware of the heat blooming in her face. “Yes, we are,” she replied, avoiding Tommy’s gaze.
“I’ll, uh, show you around,” Tommy said to Wood. “You want to come?” he asked Em.
“No, I’m . . . doing something.”
The three men started off, although Wood quickly turned back. “Nice to meet you,” he called.
She smiled, although it felt empty. All of a sudden, she felt oddly let down. Things hadn’t seemed strange between her and Tommy; they hadn’t seemed different at all. In fact, there hadn’t been the slightest flicker of recognition about what had happened in his blue eyes. Nothing. Had it meant nothing to him? Frowning, she crossed her arms tightly.
“That’s quite a compound,” she heard Wood comment, gesturing to the bunkhouse under construction.
“It’s amazing what stubbornness and a couple pair of willing hands will get you,” Emmett teased.
“Stubborn and willing,” Wood said. “That’s me, too. I should fit in right well around here.”
“Wood’s going to start in a couple of days,” Tommy said when he came in for lunch. “As soon as he can pack his stuff and get back here.”
“That’s good,” Em replied levelly. She set bowls of soup on the table and sat carefully. She was feeling sore in a very particular way, although she tried to give no indication of it.
“It’s just what we wanted,” he said. “Someone willing to work now and take his pay later.”
He seemed uncomfortable, talking just to fill the silence. After all, Wood was not the first hire. Tommy had found two other young men and hired them under the same arrangement. One was a half-breed Indian no one else had been willing to take on and the other had an odd tick. Tommy saw beyond all that, and he’d been right. Simon ‘Hawk’ Godey and Jeffrey Redburn were hard workers and polite young men.
“Guess I’ll be moving my stuff out to the bunkhouse,” Tommy said.
Em looked up sharply.
“I wouldn’t want him thinking anything,” Tommy added quietly.
Her face heated and she looked back to her soup. The two of them busied themselves with eating, and it occurred to her that never before had it taken such complete concentration. “You weren’t too concerned about Hawk or Jeffrey thinking something,” she murmured, unable to stop herself.
“I was, too,” he disagreed. “Besides, we got the cook coming, and she’ll be sleeping in here. Right?”
Em didn’t reply. She wasn’t being fair or reasonable. What was wrong with her? What did she want him to say or do?
“When’s she getting here?” Tommy asked.
She shrugged a shoulder. “Tomorrow or the next day.” She paused. “Doll,” she reminded him.
Tommy looked up with such a shocked expression that she almost choked on her bite. She pressed a hand to her mouth and finally managed to swallow. “That’s her name.” She laughed. “Doll Summers.”
Tommy grinned. “Oh, yeah. That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“I doubt it.”
He reached for a slice of bread. “Just out of curiosity, how will you know for sure when someone’s talking to her? Somebody might say, ‘Good morning, Doll’ and just be pretending to talk to her. Or, uh, you sure look pretty today, Doll,” he continued.
“Maybe you should meet her before you start planning all these comments. Don’t you think?”
His blue eyes seemed especially penetrating as they met hers. “Nope.”
Em shook her head, but she was relieved that the strain between them had disappeared. And all it had taken was a moment of humor. She’d have to remember that.
Chapter Twenty-One
Doll Summers had a round but still attractive face and tremendous energy. She also had definite views on most all subjects, although she frequently employed the disclaimer, “Just my opinion, now, which obviously don’t count for much.” She moved into the downstairs bedroom, rearranged it and added personal items until Em didn’t even recognize it. “These are lovely,” Em commented, referring to landscapes Doll had hung.
“Thank you, darlin’. Did those myself.”
“Doll, they’re wonderful. You could sell them.”
Doll waved her hand in the air. “Go on with you, now. They’re not that good.”
“They are, too,” Em disagreed. “I’d love to have one over the mantle.”
“Well, we’ll see if we can’t do something about that,” Doll said proudly.
Tommy’s hand hovered above the doorknob to Em’s room. He wanted to go in, but what if she didn’t want him there now that Doll was downstairs? Slowly, he opened the door and saw her waiting for him. The candle flickering on the table made it easy to see her inviting expression.
He came closer, noticing that she was naked under the covers. Naked and waiting for him. He went to unbutton his shirt, but came in contact with his own flesh. He looked down and discovered he, too, was naked. He looked back up at her, astonished, but then forgot everything as she pulled the covers down. For a moment, he could only stare; then he moved on top of her. He’d been desperate for her for weeks, ever since they’d made love for the first time.
She stroked his hair as he drew her stiffened nipple into his mouth and sucked. Her sweet sigh urged him on. He put himself inside her and thrust deeply—then woke with a gasp, having ejaculated in his sleep.
Wood was snoring in the next room. Tommy stared at the ceiling and waited for his breathing to return to normal. He tried to recapture the dream, but it was already fading. He sat and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then rose and cleaned himself up. The floor was ice cold, but he walked to the window and looked out. His room faced the house, which was dark, of course, since it wasn’t quite dawn yet.
He braced his hands on either side of the window and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. His breath fogged it, but only after he’d caught a glimpse of something on the porch. He moved over to peer out a clear pane, and squinted to make sure, and then he slipped on his clothes, shoes and coat. The icy ground crunched beneath his feet as he made his way to the house.
“What are you doing awake?” Em asked quietly when he got close.
“I saw you,” he replied, keeping his voice low, so as not to disturb anyone. He climbed the steps to the porch.
She sat in a rocking chair, bundled in a coat and a blanket. “I had a dream.”
He sat in the chair next to hers. “Me, too.”
“You ever notice how bright the stars are on a night like this?” she aske
d, looking upward.
He nodded and blew into his hands. “Yeah. Pretty.” Although the sky was beginning to gray up. Morning was coming.
“Wood’s working out just fine,” she said. “Don’t you think?”
“I do. He fits right in. Doll, too.”
“Remember when we wondered if we’d get anyone else to join us?”
He nodded. Of course, if no one else had joined them, he’d still be in the house. Closer to her.
“What was your dream about?” she asked. “Was it good or bad?”
“I don’t remember exactly,” he fibbed. “Yours?”
“The usual. I was running, hiding. Someone was after me.”
“You’re safe,” he assured her. “I may be out there in the bunkhouse, but you’re safe.”
As she smiled in gratitude, he saw the first pink rays of the sunrise beyond her. When she rose and moved to the porch steps for a better view, he followed. They sat on the top step and she shared the blanket, wrapping it around his back. He held one side and appreciated her nearness.
“It’s cold,” she said. “You want to go in and have some breakfast?”
“Not yet. This is nice.”
“It is nice,” she agreed, hugging his arm.
It didn’t last long enough. Already, the colors were dissipating in the lightening sky. The door squeaked open behind them. “What in the world?” Doll scolded. “It’s freezing out there! Get on in here and let me fix ya’ll something hot to drink.”
Tommy grinned. “Good morning, Doll,” he said without turning around. Em turned her face slightly away from him. Blushing, probably. She hated when she blushed, which was funny because he loved that about her.
“Good morning, yourself,” Doll replied. “Must be frozen through.” Her voice faded as she walked away from the door. “Don’t know what’chall are thinkin’.”
Tommy stood, relinquishing the blanket.
“And good morning to you, sir,” Em said with a slight bow to her head. She was blushing.
“I’d return the greeting, but I said it first.”
Laughing quietly, she rose and walked inside and he happily followed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gregory Howerton dismounted in front of the Martin farmhouse and looked around in astonishment at the buildings that had been erected since he’d last been there. Where had the money and the manpower come from? He’d heard that Tommy, who was apparently acting as foreman, had hired a couple of ‘rejects,’ whatever that meant. Almost all current gossip reached his ear and he always listened, which didn’t mean he gave it much credence. But this was proof there was manpower, know-how and money in play. Whose, though?
He turned as the front door of the house opened and a stout, middle-aged woman stepped out on the front porch with her sleeves rolled up and her blouse and apron dotted with flour. “Morning,” she greeted. The greeting seemed wary, almost suspicious.
“Good morning,” he returned. “Is Miss Wright around?”
“Maybe she is and maybe she ain’t. Who can I say is calling, just in case she is?”
His smile was tight. “Gregory Howerton.”
“Ah. So, you’re him, are you?” She walked to the edge of the porch and extended her hand. “Doll Summers. I cook for the outfit.”
The outfit? Howerton shook her hand, although he was taken aback by the unconventionality of a woman offering a handshake.
“Em’s working in the bunkhouse,” Doll said, pointing at the newly constructed building across the way.
“And Tommy?” Howerton asked, curious about his role.
“He’s out working, of course.”
He gave a tip of his head. “It was nice to have made your acquaintance.”
“Right back at you,” Doll returned.
Howerton walked toward the bunkhouse, impressed by the quality of workmanship he saw. He crossed the wide, covered porch in the center and stepped inside a vestibule, where the scent of pine assailed his senses. The lobby showed evidence of being used and enjoyed. There were comfortable-looking settees and chairs with brightly colored pillows on them. A table for four had a deck of cards waiting, and a checkerboard sat on a coffee table. There was a half cup of coffee and a pipe on one end table and plenty of lamps and rag rugs positioned around the room.
He heard the squeak of a chair to his far right and headed toward it, passing private dormitory rooms. Some doors were closed, others were open, revealing a roughly twelve-by-twelve space with a bed, bedside table, wardrobe and chest. It was an interesting design that allowed a man his own space. “Hello?” he called out.
“Down here,” Em called back.
He crossed into an adjoining mess hall, where Em stood on a chair, hanging curtains. “Mr. Howerton,” she said, clearly surprised to see him.
“Hello,” he said, walking forward slowly as she climbed down from the chair. “I must say, I’m very impressed with what I see. You’ve been busy.” The statement was truthful, if not completely forthcoming. The fact was, he had expected the venture to quickly fail and be available for purchase. That was, if he didn’t simply marry Emeline and absorb the property.
“Thank you. Yes, we have been busy.”
“It’s an interesting setup,” he commented. “Who designed it?”
“Tommy.”
Howerton blinked in surprise. He’d always known Tommy wasn’t the idiot some assumed, but he wouldn’t have guessed he was capable of this. “How is he?” he asked casually.
“He’s well.”
“Hard worker, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.”
“I met your cook a few minutes ago. She said you have several men working for you.”
“Only four right now, but we’ll hire more in spring.”
“In time for planting, I suppose?”
“Yes.”
“Planting what?”
She hesitated. “Tobacco, mainly.”
“Is Tommy one of the four you mentioned?”
Em shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with the questioning. “Yes.”
Howerton nodded, satisfied that Tommy was merely the foreman.
“May I offer you something to drink?” Em asked.
“Thank you, but no. I won’t keep you from your work. I came to issue an invitation to my first Christmas gala.” He paused to see if she’d jump right in and accept, but she maintained both poise and control. “It’ll be next Saturday, the twenty-third.”
She gave a slight nod.
“I plan on it being an annual event. Or, actually, two events, since there is a rather formal affair inside and a more casual affair for my employees in the showroom.”
“The showroom?”
“For showing horses when we get some decent lines started. It’s just been completed.”
“How interesting.”
“I hope you’ll do me the honor of being my guest.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you.”
“Wonderful. I’ll pick you up at half past six and we’ll have dinner.” Her expression went blank and she blinked. It almost felt as if she were panicking. Why? But perhaps there was a certain amount of pressure in being seen together at such an event. It would mark them as an item in the minds of all who attended. He should have considered it. “It should be a marvelous evening,” he said with a warm smile to reassure her. He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. “Until the twenty-third.”
As Howerton walked from the room, Em swallowed hard and took a step backward. She thought he’d said guests. I hope you’ll be my guests. She’d accepted, not realizing he’d been talking about escorting her. The very last thing she wanted to do was to be with him, but how was she going to get out of it now without insulting the man?
She sank onto the chair she had been using as a ladder. Damn it! She’d thought he’d been talking about an invitation for all of them. They were neighbors, after all. Was Tommy even invited? She took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves because she was .
. . “Overreacting,” she murmured, rising again. She began pacing, her hands pressed to her stomach. It was a party, not an engagement. Yes, he was picking her up and, yes, they were having dinner beforehand, but that was all. “Oh, damn it,” she swore again. How could she get out of it with grace?
Howerton walked toward his horse, but then remembered the invitation for Tommy. He turned to go back inside to leave it with Em, but then spotted Tommy riding in. He mounted and rode out to meet him.
“Mr. Howerton,” Tommy greeted when he got close.
“Hello, Tommy. Good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you.”
“Not wanting to come back, are you? Because you’re missed at the ranch.”
Tommy smiled, but shook his head. “I appreciate you saying so, but I can’t do that.”
“No, I guess not,” Howerton agreed, glancing back at the bunkhouse. “The place looks good. Really good. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you. We’ve worked hard.”
“The reason I came by is, I’m throwing a Christmas party,” Howerton said as he reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out an envelope and handed it over. “An invitation for you and a guest, if you wish.”
Tommy took it, knowing it was the gala Colleen had asked about. And he was being invited even though he wasn’t an employee any longer. It was almost like he was an equal, which was a thrill. “Thank you.”
“See you at the party,” Howerton said as he headed out.
Tommy opened the envelope and withdrew the invitation. The party would be held in The Showroom, whatever that was. He looked up, wondering if Em would go with him, and how he should go about asking her.
Doll was the first to broach the subject at lunch by asking Em what Howerton had wanted. Tommy felt his breath catch. He hadn’t realized Howerton had seen Em.
“He’s having a Christmas party,” Em replied haltingly, staring intently into her plate.
Tommy tensed.
“And?” Doll pushed.
“And he asked me,” Em stammered with a sheepish one-shouldered shrug.
