A Timeless Romance Anthology: Old West Collection

by Carla Kelly

  “I am quite certain that will not be the case.”

  For a man in such a state of dinginess, who lived from one odd job to the next, he spoke with a decidedly educated accent.

  He pulled down the ladder and carried it toward the barn. Helene remained on the porch, watching him go. Everything about his appearance and situation ought to have inspired at least a little wariness. Why was it, then, that she felt pulled to him instead? There was something almost familiar about him. He’d not indicated that he knew her, and she was certain she didn’t know him.

  The question spun about in her mind as she dished out a bowl of soup and spread a layer of butter on two thick slices of bread. It was not a fancy meal, but it would be filling for him. She stepped back through the door to bring it to him just as he stepped onto the porch.

  She held the soup bowl and plate of bread out to him. “I would normally invite you to take your meal in the kitchen, but I’ve not yet worked out how to appease my mother’s emotions should she catch sight of you.”

  He nodded his understanding. “I am sorry I don’t have anything else to wear. I truly do not wish to cause you or your mother any distress.”

  As quick as a flash of lightning, Helene had an idea. “Wait here a moment,” she said and spun about, moving swiftly back into the house. She hurried up the stairs and to the trapdoor in the attic floor, then opened it and climbed the ladder that led up. She swatted at the swirls of dust twisting in the air all around her and crossed to a small trunk pushed into the corner.

  The hinges protested as she lifted the lid. She’d bought the trunk and all of its contents at a rail station three years earlier. It had been abandoned, and the station manager had been happy to be rid of it for a pittance. She’d hoped the odds and ends would be useful as scrap fabric or for making a quilt. Fortunately, she and her mother had not yet cut down the man’s shirt and pair of men’s trousers inside.

  She pulled them out, flicking them unfolded. A quick survey told her they’d likely be a bit too large for Gregory. But too big was far preferable to too small. They were nothing fine nor fashionable, but she felt absolutely certain he would appreciate them just the same.

  Helene tucked the garments under her arm and closed the lid of the trunk once more. She had the attic shut up in no time and quickly made her way toward the stairs. She stopped in the hallway and pulled open the linen closet. She took a towel and washcloth from the shelves, then bent low to pull a cake of soap from the small bucket of them kept in the corner.

  Her hands and arms full, Helene returned to the back porch. Gregory didn’t see her when she first arrived, too intent as he was on eating his soup and bread. Her heart ached at the obvious hunger in his posture. How long had he gone without a true meal?

  “I have a few things,” she said, stepping over to where he sat on the back step.

  His eyes met hers then dropped to the various bundles she carried.

  “Please do not take this amiss, but I’ve brought you some soap.” She sat on the step. “I thought you could use a bath.”

  Far from being offended, he laughed, and the sound was deep and rumbling. She couldn’t stop herself from grinning. He had a wonderful, joyous laugh.

  “I am not at all offended,” he said, his tone light and amused. “Believe me, I am well aware of how bad I smell.”

  She set the soap, towel and cloth on the porch, then laid the clothes across her lap. “These are some old clothes we happen to have inherited. I am positive they will be too large for you, but it is a change of clothes, and that must be a welcome thing.”

  “I haven’t worked enough to have earned a change of clothes,” he protested.

  “Then consider them a loan,” she said, though she fully intended to find a way of making him keep them.

  “You would do all of this for a stranger?” It was not shock nor accusation that colored his words, but an unmistakable, tender degree of approval.

  She could feel her cheeks heat. Fair skin never was good at keeping secrets. Unable to account for the feelings this particular stranger inspired in her, she covered the confusion with a lighthearted reply. “I am doing it for myself, if you must know. These items mean I no longer have to endure the smell of you nor the sight of your raggedy attire.”

  He laughed again, just as she’d hoped he would. “I am happy to oblige. When next you see me, you’ll hardly recognize me, I’ll be so clean.”

  “I look forward to not recognizing you.”

  Gregory finished his bowl of soup, sighing contentedly. “I don’t think I worked hard enough to deserve such a good meal, Miss Helene, but I assure you, I’ll work that much harder tomorrow.”

  “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you simply because you told me a sob story about not having even a change of clothes. I mean to work you hard this summer. You’ll be so tired of laboring in the fields that you’ll be begging for another line of work.”

  “I look forward to begging,” he said, echoing her earlier quip.

  She watched him walk back to the barn. Something about him had awakened in her a sense of longing, as though she’d known him before and had lost him, only to have him return to her again. He intended to spend the evening cleaning himself up. She intended to spend as much of the night as possible straightening out her own jumbled feelings.

  Chapter Three

  You should have told her who you really are.

  He’d had a few opportunities. She’d sat beside him as he’d eaten dinner. She’d spoken with him for a time before that. But both times, his tongue had been tied. He was continually struck by how very pretty she was, which was a bit intimidating on its own. But to know who she was, to have been granted a glimpse of her character through two years’ worth of letters, made the situation overwhelming.

  Gregory had washed himself in the creek, even taking time to shave. He hadn’t cleaned his appearance in a few weeks, so his beard had been scraggly and thick. He could use a haircut but knew his limitations too well to attempt to give himself one.

  The clothes Helene had given him were a bit large, as she’d predicted. They were also a far sight cleaner than what he’d been wearing since the war ended. He transferred the suspenders from his uniform trousers to the pair he had on now, grateful he wouldn’t find himself with his pants puddled about his ankles at an inopportune moment.

  He carried his shaving kit, towel, soap, blanket, and folded uniform back to the dim barn. He’d slept in his share of barns over the past eight weeks, most of which had smelled far worse than this one. Helene must have worked herself to the bone day in and day out to keep up with the running of an entire farm with only her mother to help. She’d managed to keep up with the mucking and caring for the animals.

  “You’re Mr. Gregory?” a voice asked, which sounded like a child’s.

  Gregory scanned the barn but didn’t spot the source. “I am,” he answered. “And who might you be?”

  A blond head popped up over the side of the horse stall. By the look of the boy, he was somewhere near twelve or thirteen. “I’m Liam Milner.”

  “Do you live near here?” If Helene had a child living out of her barn but wasn’t aware of it, he intended to let her know.

  “I live in the house,” Liam said. “With Mrs. Bowen and Miss Helene and my sister.”

  “Are you kin to them?”

  “My sister and I only have each other for kin, but the ladies took us in when our folks died.”

  Gregory didn’t think Helene had written anything about that to Josiah. “How long ago was that?”

  “I ain’t gotta answer all your questions,” the boy insisted. “How long are you staying around to work?”

  “If you don’t have to answer my questions, why do I have to answer yours?” Gregory set his armful on a nearby stool.

  “Because I’m the man of the house around here.” Liam stepped out of the stall. “I won’t have you sniffin’ about the place if you’re a no-good, low-down snake.”

  The bo
y had gumption; he’d give him that. “In exchange for your honesty, I’ll give you a straight answer. I don’t know how long I’ll be here helping around the place, but I’ll work for as long as Miss Helene needs me to.”

  Liam strutted right up to Gregory, eying him with unflinching confidence. Gregory liked the boy all the better for it. An orphan with a sister to look after needed to be tough and sure of himself.

  “Have you got ideas where Miss Helene is concerned?” Liam asked. “’Cause she’s not the kind of woman who goes about kissing every hired hand who comes around.”

  “That is a good thing,” Gregory answered, “because I am not the kind of hired hand who goes about kissing every woman he works for.”

  Liam was unimpressed with the witty turn of phrase. “I’ve half a mind to believe you, Mister. But don’t think that means I like you being here.”

  “I was thinking when I came in to the barn just now that whoever looks after it does a fine job,” Gregory said. “Is that you?”

  Liam’s chest puffed out with pride. “Miss Helene says she doesn’t know what she’d do without me.”

  That was likely part of the reason the boy disliked Gregory’s being there. “I’d wager this entire farm would fall apart without your help. You be sure to let me know if Miss Helene gives me a job to do that you feel ought to fall to you. I’m not familiar with running the place like you are.”

  Liam nodded. “That’d work. I can tell you what we need you to do.”

  He’d smoothed Liam’s ruffled feathers a bit. Somehow, over the time Gregory would have in Nebraska, he needed to find a way to make his case to Helene, something that would not be nearly so easy.

  Chapter Four

  “That blasted, no good soldier.” Liam slammed the kitchen door behind him.

  He usually returned from his morning chores in a quiet mood. She knew she oughtn’t find his irritation amusing, but she couldn’t help a small smile.

  “Firstly, do not slam doors,” Helene said. “Secondly, you told me just last night that you had decided that Mr. Gregory wasn’t such a terrible person after all. What did he do to change your mind so entirely?”

  “He milked my cow!” Liam tossed himself into a chair, absolutely fuming. “I told him last night that I do a fine job with my chores. That I’m a hard worker and don’t need him doing my work. And he said he believed me.” Liam shook his head, lips pulled in tight. “But then he went and did my milkin’ like I’m a laze-about little child. And he’s gathering eggs, meaning Bianca ain’t gonna have nothing to do neither.”

  Helene sat in the chair near him. “I would wager he simply doesn’t understand that doing your chores is so important to you.” She didn’t entirely understand why Liam clung to that so much. “I’m certain that once he realizes as much, he’ll not take over your chores again.” She would insist he didn’t.

  As if fate meant to force the conversation, the kitchen door opened. It could be no one but Gregory. Helene steeled her resolve— he must be made to understand Liam’s concerns— and looked up in the direction of the door.

  It was, indeed, Gregory, but quite a different Gregory than the one who’d worked about the place the day before. He looked like an entirely different person. His clothes were clean, though ill fitting. The dirt and raggedness was gone. And he’d shaved. Heavens, without the scruffy beard, he looked years and years younger. Bianca had predicted he was a prince beneath his whiskers. Prince or not, he was shockingly handsome.

  Only with effort did she tear her eyes away, her gaze settling instead on Liam. He folded his arms across his chest and refused to look in Gregory’s direction. Helene had been too young when her brother was that age to know if unrelenting petulance was a normal thing for a twelve-year-old boy.

  “Good morning, Miss Helene,” Gregory said, setting the bucket and basket on the countertop.

  Helene rose from her seat. “If you have a moment, I would like to have a word with you.”

  Her abrupt and stern request didn’t faze him in the least. It spoke well for him. She’d known any number of men who wouldn’t abide a woman confronting him with any degree of self-assurance.

  “Of course, Miss Helene. Would you mind, though, if I speak briefly with Liam first?”

  Her eyes darted from Gregory to Liam and back again. She sensed nothing at all threatening in Gregory’s bearing. Liam even seemed the tiniest bit intrigued. And allowing Liam to sort out his own difficulties would serve him well in the future.

  “Certainly,” she said and motioned for him to do so.

  He turned to Liam. “I realized as you left the barn a moment ago that by milking the cow, I had inadvertently stepped on your toes. I ought to have realized that the chore was yours, or at least have asked. My presence here is meant to be helpful, not disruptive. If you have some time later this morning, I’d appreciate your letting me know which jobs are yours so I don’t make the same mistake again.”

  Liam gave him a begrudging look of acceptance. “What about Bianca?”

  “Your sister?”

  Liam nodded. “She has chores too.”

  “As I said, I’m here to help in whatever way is welcome. I won’t take over any of Bianca’s work if she’d rather I didn’t. And I’m certain Miss Helene has plenty of odd jobs for me to do.” He looked over his shoulder in her direction with a smile equal parts camaraderie and uncertainty.

  In that moment, she felt an odd sort of kinship with this man she hardly knew. Gregory’s patience with Liam and his willingness to do what he could to smooth the boy’s ruffled feathers spoke to his kindness.

  “There is always work to be done,” she told Gregory. “I’d wager you’ll be sorry you offered to do it all after I put my list together.”

  His eyes twinkled with merriment. “I’m not afraid of hard work, Miss Helene. Never have been.”

  “Glad to hear it.” She most certainly was glad— more so than she would have expected to be. Wariness had been her characteristic response to most strangers of the male variety. Oddly, almost miraculously, Gregory— Good heavens! She didn’t even know his surname!— didn’t inspire even a drop of worry.

  She told herself she’d be quite careful. “Just wait until the fields need constant work,” she warned him amusedly. “We planted a larger crop than usual this year. You’ll be quite busy.”

  His eyes held hers for a long moment, neither of them looking away. She’d always been rather partial to dark eyes. “Well, I’d say between Liam and me, you’ll have quite a bit of help.”

  She smiled, both at the promise of his help and at his understanding that Liam needed the recognition. “I don’t know what I would have done these past months without Liam and Bianca.”

  Much of the seriousness melted from Gregory’s expression. “I haven’t met Miss Bianca yet, or your mother. I hope to have that privilege at some point.”

  “You’ll be joining us for dinner tonight, here in the house. You’ll meet them then.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked. “I don’t wish to be a bother.”

  “No bother at all,” she insisted. “Now that you’re not in uniform, Mother will be far less likely to fall to pieces at the sight of you.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Is that your way of saying I clean up nicely?”

  “That wasn’t what I’d meant, but it’s true just the same.”

  He chuckled, and the sound echoed around the room in waves of warmth. “I do believe that is the finest compliment I’ve been paid in years, Miss Helene.”

  As he crossed the kitchen and pulled open the door, he whistled a jaunty tune. He glanced over at Liam. “Don’t forget to come find me to let me know about those chores of yours,” he said, then stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him.

  Helene stood rooted to the spot, watching the now-empty doorway. If Gregory was always so pleasant in the morning, he would be a joy to have around until harvest.

  “I know what that look in your eyes means,” L
iam said.

  She shook off her distraction and turned her gaze to the boy, who was watching her from the table.

  “You’re goin’ moony on him, ain’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation so much as an amused declaration.

  “I’ve no idea what you mean.” She turned quickly to the basket of eggs, intent on losing herself in making breakfast.

  The sound of chair legs scraping the floor told her that Liam was on the move. “I’ll find out everything I can about him then let you know if he’s a blackguard or a lay-about man or anythin’ like that.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but—”

  “Don’t go saying you’re not sighing over Mr. Gregory. I’ve got eyes, haven’t I?”

  “I hardly know him.” She set her cast-iron skillet on the stovetop. “He seems nice, I will grant him that, but there is nothing beyond that.”

  Liam didn’t answer. After a moment, his silence pulled her eyes toward him once again. His eyes narrowed. She set a hand on one hip and dared him to contradict her.

  But issuing a dare to a twelve-year-old boy is not always a wise thing to do.

  “I knew it,” he said firmly. “I’ll let you know if he ain’t worthy of you, Miss Helene.”

  “You are getting mighty far ahead of things, Liam.”

  He shook his head. “The way you two’re looking at each other, I’d say I’m just in time.”

  Chapter Five

  The way you two are looking at each other. Helene mulled Liam’s words over all through dinner that night. You two. Though she had no intention of confessing to a twelve-year-old boy that she was inexplicably drawn to this stranger who’d come to work for her, Helene knew it was the truth. But Liam seemed to think that Gregory was nursing a similar instant attraction.

  Was that reason to feel flattered or worried?

  She watched Gregory throughout the evening. He was quiet during their meal but grew more talkative in the parlor afterward; Mother had insisted he join them there. Bianca was rather in awe of him, watching his every move, hanging on his every word— a common affliction for almost eleven-year-old girls when faced with a decidedly handsome man. But Gregory was kind to Bianca, offering praise when he learned that Bianca had prepared the string beans.