Did Chicago schools teach kids more than the territory schools, or had Corinne paid better attention than he had? He looked over at a crate half filled with books. Of course. Maybe she didn’t read dime novels, but she likely read more than he’d assumed.
He’d always learned by doing. Never thought to order books on ranching, yet that had been the first thing she’d asked about.
While Spencer busily made the wooden disk whirr, Annie gestured toward the linen squares swimming in bowls. “Have any of these worked?”
“I’ve not forgotten your soap if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Of course not. And even if you did forget, I’m sure I could use whatever this is, too. Jacob does his fair share of mucking up clothes.”
“Well, I don’t hold out much hope for these. They’re mostly concoctions using pantry items—vinegar, lemon juice, oils. I have some chemicals in mind that might work if these don’t, but I have to save up for them.”
“What chemicals might those be?” Annie picked up a cloth with the long metal tweezers Corinne had used earlier, squinting at the fabric as if to inspect it.
Corinne shifted uncomfortably. “A handful of different things, but I’m not ready to share yet. They might not work either.”
With a small splash, Annie dropped the wet cloth back into its solution. “Have you ever heard of the Centennial Exhibition? The women’s pavilion?”
Corinne’s face contorted. “I don’t think so.”
“We were in Denver not too long ago.” Annie gestured between her and Jacob. “We met a woman at the telegraph office there. She was wiring her mother because she’d just been awarded a patent for a new style of washboard—told me all about it. I didn’t realize I had an inventor friend back home.”
Corinne shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would. And she told us her washboard was nothing compared to what she’d seen at the fair. Seemed they had a whole tent full of women-invented gadgets. Said some smaller fairs showed off women’s accomplishments, too.” Annie’s face brightened. “Maybe one day you’ll be there.”
“I was working on an iron with a removable handle, but a lady beat me to it.” She scurried across the room and pulled something out of a file box. “See this? It’s close to what I was imagining, but hers is better. Read it. Doesn’t it make you want one?”
Annie fingered the newspaper clipping. “I’ve seen this ad once or twice. It would be nice if it worked as claimed. Do you think it would?”
She nodded and when Annie put down the advertisement, Corinne mouthed the word “birthday” to Jacob, and the man gave her a slight nod back.
Nolan made a mental note to put that iron on the birthday list for Corinne as well…
When was her birthday? And did their relationship require the exchange of gifts?
Hopefully his birthday came before hers and he’d do whatever she did.
“Can I take the buzz saw home with me?” Spencer gave the toy another good spin. “I’ll give it back when you come next week.”
“Next week?” Corinne frowned at Annie.
“We came to ask you two to dinner. You’re my closest woman neighbor now, and I’m excited to have you over.”
“Oh, well…” She looked to Nolan.
Considering how her face had brightened, he wouldn’t have said no even if the Hendrixes were his mortal enemies. “I believe any day of the week would work for me.”
Corinne turned back to Annie, happier than he’d ever seen her—which sort of stung. “How about next Friday?”
“Great.” Annie reached out to squeeze her hand. “Since you don’t need our help, we best get back home. We’ve got a cow about to give birth and a sick cat Spencer was loath to leave.”
The women walked out side by side, discussing what Corinne would bring for dinner next week.
The Hendrixes seemed to have forgotten about him, so he leaned against the table to take the pressure off his leg.
Maybe it had been too early to put his leg back on.
Oh, who did he think he was lying to? He shouldn’t have put it on at all, let alone walked on it. He closed his eyes against the pain of what was surely his scab rubbing off.
In seconds, Corinne stomped back into the cabin and shot him a pointed look. “You shouldn’t be walking on your leg.”
“I know.”
“You’re supposed to take care of yourself, find someone to help you, not make it worse.”
Shoot. He’d been so enthralled with Corinne telling Annie about her tinkering he’d forgotten to ask Jacob about helping with his stretches. He’d just have to ride over tomorrow to ask because he wasn’t going to ask Timothy or any of his other hands to help, no matter Corinne’s suggestion. If he was going to maintain authority, no employee of his would be seeing him in his drawers.
“You need to take your leg off.”
“I will.”
“I mean now.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. Being his business partner didn’t make her his boss. “I’ll take it off at the house.”
“Or you can take it off now.” She put her hands on her hips and held his gaze.
He readjusted his stance. If she thought he looked like he was in real pain—this was nothing. “How would I get back home?”
“I’ll help you hobble out to the wagon.”
“It’s not that—”
“Are you going to make me take it off?”
He snapped his head up. “What?”
She shook her head at him, a touch of a smile on her upturned lips. “Seems to me if someone doesn’t make you obey orders, you won’t do as you ought.”
“You’re as bad as Doc Ellis.”
“So the sore is completely healed?”
He kept his mouth pressed shut.
“I think the doctor and I just know something you don’t—that you’re too stubborn for your own good.”
“Neither one of you know me well at all.”
She flinched, but her gaze quickly turned back to steel. “Regardless, I know you aren’t doing what you’re supposed to. Besides, I’m not necessarily looking out for you—I’m looking out for me. If you get gangrene and die, I won’t know how to run this place. So if you’re determined to go against medical advice, you need to stay around long enough for me to learn.”
He only harrumphed.
“You need to leave your leg here, anyway. I have an idea about a modification that might help you avoid getting a sore like that again.”
He glanced around at the gadgets and junk she had lying around. Could she improve his leg? With the knowledge she’d spouted off to Spencer, and the fact she’d unloaded the heavy things from her wagon without help…
She might need him to teach her the ins and outs of the ranch now, but it wouldn’t be long before she didn’t need him at all.
Which was a very good reason not to play around with physical fire. The more he grew attached to her, the more he’d be inclined to yearn for some “romantic nonsense”—however they chose to define it—and he didn’t want to be yearning alone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Corinne shoved the half-formed artificial leg away and hung her head in her hands. It wasn’t coming together as she’d imagined.
A few days ago, when Annie had mentioned the Centennial Fair, she’d gotten her hopes up that with the time she now had, she could make something worthy of a women’s exhibit. But she was kidding herself. Ideas could be so promising—but she hadn’t the talent.
She glanced over at the bowls of wet cloth—all of which had a grease stain that wouldn’t budge. None of these were soaking in chemicals she’d hoped to use, but she’d expected a few to have helped a little.
The cabin’s door creaked open and the cool evening air wafted in. Nolan’s unsteady gait as he tried to come through the door on crutches while carrying a lantern made her want to jump up to help, but considering how stubborn he was being about his leg, she remained seated. “You shouldn�
�t have hobbled all the way out here.”
“I was checking on you.” He got himself through the door and set the lamp down, his voice breathy. “I’d wondered if you’d fallen asleep. You worked hard earlier.”
She smiled a bit at his noticing. She’d taken over all his chores and had helped the men with the fencing—not that they had let her actually do anything with the fence, but she’d insisted on helping carry things since Nolan wasn’t available. And since she couldn’t have her bedroom light on at night to keep the men from realizing they slept in separate rooms now, she’d decided to work out here until she was ready to turn in.
“You’re not tired?”
She pulled out her timepiece and took a second look. Ten o’clock was far later than she’d been up in a long while. As if her body only needed to know the hour, a yawn overtook her. She rubbed at her eyes. “Seems I lost track of time. I’ll clean up and come in.”
“If you’re going to stay out this late, I’d feel better if you encouraged Mickey to come with you. The coyotes have gotten closer the past few weeks.”
Her heart warmed at his desire to look after her, though she wasn’t sure how much protection an old dog would be against a pack of coyotes. “I admit their singing’s making me nervous, but I figured you’d roll your eyes at me if I told you how unsettled they make me feel.”
“They’re closer than even I’d like.” He readjusted himself on his crutches. “Not worried about us much, but the animals, certainly.”
She started reorganizing her piles. How did they get so unruly in such a short amount of time?
“Are you finished with my leg yet? The sore’s healed, and I was hoping to have it back.” He reached across the table and dragged the new leg she’d been working on toward him. “Where’d you get this?”
“Made it.”
His brows rose. “You made this?”
“Out of the barrel staves.”
He picked it up and examined it. “Looks like one a man I know got from the army.”
She rubbed her eyes. Of course someone else had already made something like this. Just like Mrs. Potts’ handle-swapping iron. “Did you try it on?”
“Uh, that’s like asking to try on someone’s drawers.”
She smiled at the twinkle in his eye. His sense of humor always came as a nice surprise—though he had been more serious this past week.
“If I gave you the catalog that has an illustration of the leg, could you replicate it?”
“Maybe.” Not that building something someone had already invented would earn her a spot in a women’s exhibition. “Though it’d probably be better to just save up money enough to buy one since this leg isn’t turning out like I’d hoped.”
And there was probably some catalog out there that had a soap powder for sensitive skin Annie could order as easily as Corinne could order chemicals that may or may not work. “I should just stick to tinkering with what will benefit this ranch. Like healthier chickens and plentiful eggs.”
She handed him the sketch she’d drawn up earlier to redo the coop.
He didn’t even look. “One failed attempt does not mean you can’t do it.”
She frowned at him. “I’ve had more than one failure.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Nolan kept his gaze steady on hers. “You should invent things because you enjoy it.”
“I do, it’s just … it’s silly. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can’t imagine a woman who can replicate a Hanger leg without knowing it exists could want something silly.”
“I don’t know about that, considering I didn’t even think to ask if there was a catalog of false appendages I could peruse to see what’s available. I had thought I had an idea that might get noticed, but the hinges aren’t working. I do think I’ve improved your old one, however.” She crossed to the corner where she’d left his leg in hopes she’d be able to hand him something better.
Walking back, she pointed inside the leg’s cupped socket. “I added contoured padding. Considering the shape of your leg…” She didn’t look up at him in case he’d be embarrassed that she’d studied his leg while cleaning it. “I figured this might improve your comfort. I’d have to take a look with your leg in it to determine if there’s any more I could do.”
“Thank you.” He looked at her for a few seconds before closing his eyes. “Do you want me to put the leg on now so you can check?”
He’d let her? With how he’d gotten Jacob to agree to do his leg stretches and how he’d waited until she was asleep or out of the room to strap on or remove his leg when Matt had been there, she’d thought he wouldn’t. “Yes, if you’re willing. If there’s something that could be done to make it better, I could work on it tomorrow.”
“Or you could rest.” He set aside his crutches and shrugged one suspender strap off his shoulder. “I don’t begrudge my men their evenings. You can relax, too.”
She turned her back to give him privacy, though it seemed silly since he couldn’t cover himself up while she examined his leg. “I like to keep busy.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She rummaged through her pile to find her measuring tape. “Thank you for believing I can do something to help you.”
“Why wouldn’t I believe that?” The creak of a chair indicated he’d sat.
“Not everyone has.”
“Do you talk about the things you make with everyone?”
She chuckled. “No. When I’ve tried, most tell me I’m wasting my time. I don’t bother anymore. You ready?”
“Yes.”
She turned to find he’d taken off one pant leg and had rolled up his drawers. His arms were locked against his chest and he stared straight through her.
“I’ll just be a minute.” She took measurements, made a quick sketch, then made another once he’d slipped the leg on. “I’m done. Why don’t you wear the leg home and tell me how it feels? Give it a few days and then I can adjust things, if you’d like. Or maybe I should start making that other leg.”
Once she turned, shuffling indicated he was putting himself back together. “I’m not sure I’ll like a new one better. I got that Hanger brochure a few years ago, but decided against purchasing one. Figured I might end up spending all my money searching for the perfect leg, but end up with a closet full of disappointment. Though with all the odds and ends you keep, perhaps you would’ve found a pile of junk legs useful. Why’s that?”
“Why’s what?”
“Why do you collect so much stuff? You seemed busy at the laundry and strapped for cash. Even if most of this was free, you’ve spent a good sum on those chemicals.”
She scanned all her stuff. She’d not realized how much she’d had until she moved. She would’ve had even more if she’d not lost her last collection in the fire.
Nolan waited as if the clock hand wasn’t moving closer to an absurd time of night for them both to be up.
She shrugged. If anyone should know everything about her, it might as well be him. “My stepmother never attached herself to me, neither did my father. I don’t think he blamed me for mother’s death, but he never seemed interested in me after that.”
“Maybe you reminded him of your mother.”
She shook her head. “Actually, I think it was because I wasn’t like my mother. He always said she was sturdier stock than me.”
“If anyone’s ‘sturdy stock,’ I’d say it’s you. I know plenty of women who’d wilt under the amount of work you do.”
“Thanks, but it’s more a description of how we’re built.” She waved her thin fingers at him, wondering if her mother would have had the same hand trouble she’d had doing laundry. “Since I was skinny and sickly when Mom died, I wondered if he resented that I’d survived and she hadn’t. Whatever the reason, he lost interest in me. He was warmer toward Yvonne, but not much. The only time he seemed to talk to me was to chastise me for wasting time whenever I tinkered. So I sort of gave it up.”
“Sort of?”
&nb
sp; “I’d catch Daddy looking at Momma’s paintings and thought maybe learning to paint could get his attention, but I ended up more interested in creating colors than using them. I was also fascinated by my stepbrother’s bug collection and the iridescent blue of the dragonflies. My father was originally a pharmacist, and when he expanded into chemical supply, I had access to what he sold. I knew bug paintings likely wouldn’t endear him to me, but I wanted to replicate that metallic color.”
“Were you able to do it?”
“Almost.” She smiled at the memory of sneaking into her father’s warehouse to steal teaspoons of chemicals. The risk of punishment hadn’t diminished the excitement of being on mission. “I read through my father’s books to see which traits each chemical had, and mixing a few with the paints I owned, I got close. A lustrous color you couldn’t buy at the store. It shimmered like a dragonfly, even if it wasn’t the blue I was going for. He was astounded, and I thought my father was finally proud of me.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
Her smile died. “But he was interested in my iridescent paint—not me. He sold the formula to a company he worked with.”
“That didn’t make you happy?”
“He didn’t tell them I created it. When I got angry, he asked what did I expect. No one would believe a twelve-year-old girl had come up with it.”
“So what’s the name of your color?”
She let out a sad sigh. “Never asked. Didn’t want to know. If I found it in a store, what was I going to do? Hold it up and tell everyone I’d invented it? People would’ve thought me delusional.”
“Not all. That fair Annie mentioned—”
“Those women weren’t stupid enough to share their inventions with someone who’d sell it out from under them.”
“You weren’t stupid. If children can’t trust their father, then who should they trust?”
“We have that in common.”
Nolan furrowed his brow.
“My father took away what I’d worked hard to create. Yours, too.”
He rubbed a hand though his hair. “I’ve been thinking about that lately. Wondering if Dad may have been right. By marrying you, I’m far better off than I was. Not only do I have my ranch, but the perfect wife.”
Pretending to Wed Page 17
