One Heart to Win

by Johanna Lindsey

  She still didn’t know how she was going to do that, but after eating Jakes’s stew that night, which Hunter had brought to the house as promised, it became her third goal, along with ending the feud and going home. The stew had been tasteless, the bread stale. At least the butter hadn’t been rancid. But then she’d had to wash dishes again!

  Hunter actually came in to help her this time. She wished he hadn’t. Standing close to him at the sink was worse than standing near Degan, though she wasn’t sure why and was too tired to give it much thought.

  “You look a little overwhelmed,” he said by way of explanation for his help.

  What a polite way to say she looked as exhausted as she felt! She agreed, “It was more than I expected, when I accepted the job.”

  “Did I mention this is my favorite room in the house?” She gave him a sharp, skeptical look. He chuckled. “Let me rephrase that. It’s now my favorite room. You do brighten up the place, Red, you surely do. I have a feeling you’re going to find me underfoot—a lot.”

  Was he flirting with her again, or just being friendly? It was hard to tell with a man who laughed as much as he did. “Then you can hope I don’t step on you too hard.”

  He’d grinned at that rejoinder. She was too exhausted to care. She wasn’t just tired when she got upstairs, she ached from doing things she’d never before done. She would have liked to just drop into the bed, but she still had to write to her mother, and it was going to be a difficult letter to write.

  Tiffany knew if Rose were there, she would never have allowed Tiffany to undertake this deception. Yet Tiffany still felt she needed her mother’s permission—after the fact. Not for a moment did she consider lying to Rose, though she might leave out the part about Zachary’s insisting she cook, simply because she knew her mother would be indignant about it on her behalf.

  She would probably have cried if her stationery hadn’t been in her only surviving trunk, but it was. She was too tired to unpack, but a quick rummage through her trunk indicated that she’d lost all but one of her evening gowns, many of her dresses, and all of her nightgowns, which meant she’d have to sleep in her drawers and camisole. But she still had her jewelry box, not that she could wear any of her expensive jewels in her new guise. But she allowed herself a tired smirk that the most valuable trunk on that train hadn’t become a prize for the outlaws, probably because the robber who’d emptied most of the baggage car was saving the heaviest baggage for last, then ran out of time.

  With no desk or even a vanity surface to write on, she had to write on the top of her stationery box while sitting on the bed.

  Dear Mama,

  I miss you so much! I just heard a wolf howling outside my window. Someone told me about a grizzly bear that scared a young man so bad it turned his hair gray. Wild animals, Mama—I’m finding out firsthand that Montana isn’t as civilized as you told me it was. I feel so frightened and out of place, but I know you’re worried about that telegram I sent, so let me explain.

  It was so unexpected! There I was, so nervous about meeting my father that I almost didn’t get off the train, and who should show up but two members of the very family you want me to marry into. They mistook me for the housekeeper their father hired, who did happen to be on my train. But the West overwhelmed her, too. She’d already done what I wanted to do, go back home. I didn’t. I’m not forgetting my promise. But the opportunity that the Callahans presented me with was just too intriguing to ignore. They hired me to be their housekeeper. They don’t know who I really am. And don’t laugh, despite how amusing you might find their mistake to be, but I think this presents an ideal situation, however unconventional, for me to get to know my fiancé, the real Hunter Callahan, not some artificial, cleaned-up version of himself that he’d pretend to be when he courts me at my father’s house. It was your idea for me to give him a chance. But how can I if I don’t trust him to be honest and forthcoming about what he thinks about this marriage? Here, in his house, I can find out what he’s really like and what his real feelings are. And by the way, you were right. He did turn out quite handsome and he appears to be good-natured, too.

  And annoying. And too quick to jump to conclusions, but she didn’t add that. If her mother thought she might like him, then she’d be much more amenable to Tiffany’s staying right where she was for a while.

  I’m not asking to stay here the whole two months, Mama, just long enough to form an opinion of my fiancé. I don’t know how long that will take, but I don’t feel I’m ready to meet my father yet, anyway. He’s waited fifteen years to meet me, so a few more weeks won’t make a difference to him. But it will to me. I promise I won’t keep up the charade too long, not when I’m dying to see my brothers again. But this will give me a chance to get to know these people and acclimate myself to Montana as well, before I have to deal with meeting my father for the first time. And you already know how I feel about that. It was too much all at once—this frightening place, a fiancé I don’t know, a father I don’t know. Let me get through half of that at my own pace. I know what I’m doing. So please find an excuse to delay my arrival a little longer. Be vague. And, so I don’t starve in the meantime, would you please send me a few cookbooks that I can give to the Callahans’ cook? Yes, I’m exaggerating about starving, but not about needing the books. He’s a trail cook. I’m sure you can imagine how unappetizing his meals are.

  Love,

  Tiffany

  Satisfied that she’d stated all the pertinent reasons in making her case, Tiffany knew she was still going to be anxious until she heard back from her mother. The trouble was, if her mother was really against what she’d decided to do, Rose might just come to Nashart, despite her own obscure reasons for not wanting to, and drag Tiffany out of there—and straight to Franklin. Or worse, she’d simply telegraph Frank where to find her. But she was too tired to worry about that tonight. Too tired to undress, too. With her letter ready to go, she simply lay back on the bed and was asleep within minutes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  TIFFANY WOKE UP TO the sound of a cock crowing and sunshine streaming in through the bedroom windows. She felt refreshed and rested. After washing, she unpacked the few dresses she had left, her riding habit, which she doubted she’d have enough leisure time to use, all her shoes and boots, and plenty of parasols. She was relieved to find her underwear, which was made of the softest spun silk and likely irreplaceable in Nashart. She donned a pale-blue walking dress, which, thankfully, had a tailored jacket that covered up the gaps in the dress’s back that she couldn’t button up herself. The jacket flared and ended just above the bustle, which had come back into fashion recently, though not in a style as pronounced as it had once been.

  While she’d thought her day dresses would suffice for her role as a housekeeper, they wouldn’t really do in her role as a cook and dishwasher. She would have to look for a seamstress today. What if Nashart didn’t have one! But she definitely needed more serviceable dresses, ones she could don without a maid’s assistance.

  She found a blue ribbon for her hair and simply tied it back again. Maybe she could ask Anna to show her how to pin it up today when she visited her. If there was time. Her list of errands for town today was getting pretty long.

  She debated whether to knock on Mary Callahan’s door before she went downstairs. She should introduce herself to the lady of the house before she was summoned to do so. But that wasn’t going to be an easy meeting, especially if Tiffany had to tell the woman who was worried about impressing her, the real her, that the new cook didn’t know how to cook. She decided to put off that meeting until later in the day. Her only hope was to find help in town today. Someone there had to have a cookbook, and she’d be willing to pay a fortune to borrow it!

  Last night at dinner Tiffany had told Zachary she needed to go to town this morning, and Cole had said he would take her. So she was unpleasantly surprised to see Degan waiting on the porch for her instead of Cole, the borrowed wagon hitched out front.

&n
bsp; “Zachary wants me to accompany you,” Degan informed her. “He’s worried you’ll run into a Warren or two and they’ll figure out who you are and try to steal you back.”

  Sound reasoning, she supposed, but she didn’t want to be alone with him again! She didn’t budge. Being alone with him in the kitchen yesterday had been nerve-racking enough. She did not want to experience it again. “What happened to Cole?”

  “I told him I’d take you,” Hunter said from behind her as he stepped out of the house. “My brothers might fight amongst themselves, but they tend to defer to the eldest without question.”

  She turned to catch his grin—no, it was a definite smirk. He enjoyed his role as oldest brother and the advantages that gave him. She wouldn’t know how that felt. She’d grown up without her siblings. But she was relieved that he was taking her. With Degan she would have been nervous the whole trip. With Hunter, she just had to worry about getting into another shouting match.

  “Then Mr. Grant doesn’t need to—”

  “Degan tags along,” Hunter cut in. “Didn’t I mention I can’t go anywhere without the guard dog?”

  Such a derogatory term, and said with the same disgust she’d heard in his voice when he’d used it last night. She glanced quickly at the gunslinger to see if he was insulted. He didn’t appear to be. Without expression, he sauntered down the steps and mounted a palomino horse with a flaxen mane and tail, a color not often seen in the East. It had been tied to the hitching post in front of the porch.

  The one horse hitched to the wagon had a distinctive coloring. She’d only seen it once before, in a painting her mother owned of a herd of Western horses. Rose had called it a pinto, a two-colored horse with large patches of brown and white that Tiffany found quite beautiful. But with just one horse, she wondered how she was supposed to get back to the ranch.

  She could rent a horse just for today. She’d noticed at least one stable in town yesterday. But then the horse would need to be returned to Nashart, too. She could have bought one or rented one for her entire stay if she weren’t pretending to be a woman who was pinching every penny so she could get married. She enjoyed riding, had learned in Central Park before it had even been completed, though as big as that project had been, the huge park had been opened to pedestrians and riders long before the extensive landscaping was finally completed. She sighed to herself. In her guise of servant, she probably wouldn’t find time to ride anyway.

  Holding a folded parasol and a reticule containing her letter to her mother, Tiffany went down to the wagon to climb aboard. The step leading to the long wooden seat was rather high, though, designed for a man’s long legs, but she could reach it if she stretched a little. She’d just got one foot on it when she felt hands reach through her bustle to her arse and push. She gasped, “Mr. Callahan!”

  “Be quiet, Red. How else did you think you were getting up there?”

  She was standing on the step now and maneuvered herself onto the wooden perch. Hot-cheeked and her posture stiff, she gazed straight ahead, ignoring Hunter.

  “You need to unbend a little,” he said as he climbed up and sat next to her. “You’re in Montana now.”

  Oh, God, one more reason why she didn’t want to remain here. Had the hardy settlers who’d moved West left all propriety behind? Little had survived as far as she could see. Kidnapping housekeepers—very well, possible kidnapping—banditry, private wars, ruthless mine owners.

  “Why exactly are you returning to town so soon? Our pantry is well stocked.”

  He wanted to converse after what he’d just done? He’d already cracked the reins to get them moving, and now she felt his light-blue eyes on her. Lovely eyes, though she couldn’t seem to keep from getting annoyed with him long enough to gaze into them for any length of time. Nor did she try now.

  Stiffly she answered, “For a number of reasons. I have a letter to post. I need to see a seamstress since my wardrobe isn’t suited for dishwashing. I need to buy some other essentials I seem to be missing. Your father mentioned that the person who previously helped your cook quit when Ed did, so I’m going to hire a replacement if I can find one. Oh, and I’m going to have a decent meal while I’m there, breakfast or lunch, which is why we’re leaving early. I shudder to think of what Jakes served up this morning. And I’m going to visit a friend I made on the train.”

  He was looking at her incredulously. She didn’t know that until she heard, “Hellfire, woman, that’s going to take all day!”

  She turned a frown on him and tsked. “No, it won’t. I’m very efficient.”

  He snorted at her confidence. “I can take one thing off that long list. The only people looking for jobs around here are cowboys, miners, and drifters. Women tend to get snatched up real fast.”

  “You mean hired for work?”

  “Work, wife, amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”

  She disagreed, “Out here, possibly, but not where I come from.”

  “Now that simply ain’t true, unless you’re talking about rich folks.”

  Although she was gazing straight ahead at the dirt road, she could feel his eyes on her again. That was a blunder she shouldn’t have walked into. “Yes, of course,” she agreed. “I’ve known several cooks who told me their husbands married them for their skills in the kitchen.” Which wasn’t true either, but he wouldn’t know that.

  He chuckled. “A common motivator for a man. How are you at those skills?”

  She tensed. Talking about wives and cooking in the same breath, was he suddenly viewing her as a prospective wife? When he had a fiancée? Was he too impatient to wait for his fiancée to arrive? Or totally opposed to the marriage as she was? She wished she could discuss that with him, but she couldn’t until someone actually told her that Hunter was engaged.

  But he was waiting for her to answer his question. Briefly she repeated what she’d told Degan last night about his father refusing to believe she couldn’t cook. All Hunter did was laugh.

  Gritting her teeth, she returned to the subject of finding help for the kitchen. “So what you’re saying is, there is a shortage of women in the territory?”

  “You got that right. Always has been. And if you keep sashaying around town, we’re going to end up with an army of wife-hunting men beating down our door. You’re about as prime a catch as it gets.”

  Compliments didn’t usually make her blush. She wasn’t sure why that one did, unless it was because his tone got a little sharp as he said it, as if she should apologize for being pretty. But she didn’t like the damper he was putting on her finding help when she’d been counting on it. Then it occurred to her that Hunter might be basing his negative opinion on the likelihood that a woman out here would probably opt to marry rather than work for the low wages of a kitchen maid. And no doubt he was right. He just didn’t know that she would pay whatever it took to get that help. Nor could he know. Tiffany had deep pockets, Jennifer didn’t.

  But to prepare him ahead of time for her success, she drew on Jennifer’s probable experience, telling him, “I have been tasked with hiring before. I can be very persuasive.”

  “I bet you can. You could probably talk me into anything—if you tried.” Then he leaned closer to whisper, “Want to try?”

  Shivers ran down her back because of his warm breath on her neck. It wasn’t because of what he’d said to her, of course it wasn’t. But why wasn’t she outraged over what he was implying? She should be!

  She responded much more primly and properly than she guessed Jennifer would have. “I will assume that you are accustomed to indulging in meaningless flirtation. I am not. Please keep in mind that I have a fiancé.”

  “But he’s in Chicago, which might as well be on the other side of the world, while I’m here. And what sort of man would let you get away from him like this?”

  “You make it sound as if I’ve escaped him, when that isn’t the case at all. We thoroughly discussed my coming here. It was a mutual decision. We both want to save up a nest
egg before we marry.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. What’s he like?”

  Jennifer hadn’t told her anything about the man she was going to marry! All Tiffany could think to do was to describe the sort of man she hoped to marry one day. “He’s noble-hearted. Kind and sensitive. Brave and very loyal. He’s been devoted to me since the day we first met. He wouldn’t think of being unfaithful.”

  Hunter raised a brow at her. Well, she shouldn’t have mentioned that last part or made it sound like a reference—to him. But he wasn’t done criticizing her choice in men.

  “His first mistake was wanting to wait to marry you, no matter the reason. His second mistake was letting you come here alone. I’d never let my fiancée leave me. In fact, I’d marry any woman I want to stake my claim on right away, not come up with excuses to wait.”

  She was a little indignant—on Jennifer’s behalf. Hunter’s family was rich, even if they didn’t exactly live like it. He didn’t know what it was like to be of the servant class that worried constantly about money. Neither did she, but he’d finally given her an opening to ask about his own engagement, and she wasn’t passing that up to point out his opinion was biased.

  “You’re talking as if you have a fiancée. Do you?”

  Hunter mumbled something under his breath before he said, “I’ve had enough conversation for this morning. Let’s get to town. Hold on to your hat, Red.”

  He cracked the reins so hard that the horse and wagon suddenly sped up. Tiffany gritted her teeth. Why wouldn’t he admit he was engaged to her?

  Chapter Seventeen

  JUMPING DOWN FROM THE wagon the very moment he stopped it behind the freight company in town, Hunter snarled at Degan, “I need a drink. You stick to her like glue. Well, not that close, but make sure no one bothers her.”