“Damn,” he mumbled. He had wanted to interview his new housekeeper. The baby had been in her sole care for two days, and he didn’t know anything about her. Hiring her had been a spur-of-the-moment decision necessitated by desperation.
By now she could have dug through every crook and cranny in the house looking for valuables to steal. Hell, he thought, as dark as the house was, she could be long gone, leaving the baby to fend for himself.
At the thought of his infant son being alone, possibly for hours, Jim rushed his steps, entering the house through the front door. He took the stairs two at a time, his spurs clinking against the wood.
The door to the baby’s room was cracked open and he pushed it violently, making it bang noisily against the wall. Startled whimpering from the crib drew a sigh of relief from Jim, as he moved more quietly into the room. He gently patted his son’s back until the baby slept once again.
There was no sign of March in the room, but the evidence of the child sleeping quietly told him that she hadn’t left during the day, which meant that she could still be around somewhere.
When a quick search of the upper floor didn’t produce the girl, Jim made his way downstairs. The light from the coals in the fireplace illuminated the kitchen enough to show her sitting at the table, her head resting on her folded arms.
March heard him behind her and dread filled her as she slowly raised her head. Wetting her suddenly dry lips, she gathered together her trembling courage. “I know you’ll want me out of here. If you’ll allow it, I’ll wait until Jamie is settled in the morning, and then leave.”
“Jamie? Leave?” Jim stopped at the end of the table and looked down at her.
“Jamie, your son.” March had never felt as guilty as she did when her eyes came to rest on the empty can sitting accusingly in front of her.
“Who named him that?”
“You … me … us …” Shrugging, she pushed her hair from her face. Freed from its usual bun at the nape of her neck, it hung in a cascade of living gold around her shoulders and down her back. “Yesterday, when I asked his name and you said he didn’t have one . .
Fascinated by the firelight playing through her hair, Jim forced his attention back to his housekeeper. “Why do you want to leave?”
“I don’t want to leave! You don’t understand. When I tell you what I did, you’ll demand that I pack up and get out.”
Eyes narrowed, Jim reassessed her. “What did you steal? Most of my money is in the bank in town, but there’s always some around for emergencies. Did you find Melanie’s jewelry? I suggest you admit to your crime and return everything to me. It’ll save us both embarrassment, when the sheriff gets here.”
“Steal? Steal! I wouldn’t steal from you or anyone else. I may be a nobody who owns nothing, but I don’t take things that aren’t mine.” She moaned as her gaze moved to the empty can. “Well, I mean … I don’t take valuables … I mean I wouldn’t take your money . . . “
Jim crossed his arms over his chest, his blue eyes icy as he stared down at her. “Don’t think that because you’re female that I’ll let you just walk out of this house with my money. I’ll strip you buck-naked and search every inch of you until I find it.”
“I didn’t steal your money!” March jumped to her feet and began to pace. “I wish I had, because then I could just lay it on the table and be done with it.”
Her long hair moved like something with life of its own, flowing with gossamer tendrils with each agitated step. Jim noticed that the dress she wore was the same one that had caught his attention yesterday. It was too short, too tight. . . too enticing.
“What did you take, girl?” His steely voice demanded an answer.
“Well … that is … ah, you see . .
“Spit it out!”
“Peaches!”
“Peaches?” Prepared for nearly anything, Jim was stunned by her revelation.
Her shoulders bowed with guilt, March nodded slowly. “I fed Jamie and put him to bed. And I went to bed myself, only I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see that can of peaches. I found them when I was exploring the kitchen.” She raised her head and looked beseechingly at him. “I didn’t nose through the rest of the house, just the kitchen, because I couldn’t cook without knowing where things are, and I had to open the cabinets and drawers to see where everything was and . . . “
Jim nearly smiled at her hurried reassurance. Her honesty stood out as clearly as the gold hair webbing around her shoulders. He didn’t know how she could be so ethical with her father as an example, but he didn’t doubt that she had her own measure of morals.
“The peaches?” he encouraged her to continue her story March closed her eyes, but the picture of what she had done was so clear that she decided it was better to see him than the peaches. “I came down to the kitchen, and they were sitting on the shelf where I’d found them earlier. At first I just sat at the table, holding them and looking at the picture.
“I don’t even remember getting up or searching for the punch for the can. Suddenly it was in my hand, and I was poking it through the lid. When it was open, they smelled so good! And I thought since it was opened, it wouldn’t hurt if I just tasted the juice … just a sip of the juice.” A smile lingering deep in his eyes, Jim picked up the empty can and turned it upside down. “Just a sip?”
“I ate them.” March looked down at her hands. “I ate every bite. Once I got started, I couldn’t seem to stop. And then I drank every bit of the juice.”
Squaring her shoulders, she raised her gaze to him. “I know what I did was unforgivable, peaches are so valuable. If you’ll give me a little time, I’ll manage to earn the money somehow and repay you. I’ll get a job in town cleaning houses or something.”
Shaking his head, he set the can back on the table. If this little girl went to town looking for work, there was only one kind of job she’d be offered, flat on her back. He didn’t think he could stand knowing that he’d been the one to send her there.
“It’s just a can of peaches.”
“Please, I’d feel better if you’d yell at me … or hit me.”
“Hit you?” She couldn’t be serious, he thought, but one look at her face convinced him that she was deadly serious. She was such a tiny little thing that one blow from his fist would probably kill her. “March, I would never, ever hit you or any other woman.”
Remembering the rippling muscles that corded his back and shoulders, March released a silent sigh of relief. The blows from her father’s fists had been staggering, and had left bruises that lasted for weeks. And Papa’s strength was feeble in comparison to this man.
“Thank you for that. If you’ve no objection, I’d like to stay the night. When I have Jamie settled in the morning, I’ll be on my way. If you’ll trust me, and I realize that you have no reason to, but if you will, I’ll send you the money for the peaches as soon as I have it.”
“March, it was just a can of peaches. I can’t expect you to work here without eating.”
“But peaches!”
“Did you enjoy them?” he asked softly.
“Oh, they were wonderful! I felt so guilty every- time I took a bite, but they were wonderful!” Jim couldn’t help but wonder what her childhood had been like, what deprivations she had suffered that a simple can of peaches became a priceless treasure.
“If it’s in the house, and it’s edible, and you want to eat it, then eat it. When something is gone, make a list, and when one of the men goes to town, he’ll replace it.”
March’s eyes grew wide with amazement. “You’re not mad?”
Jim slowly shook his head. Reaching for the matches, he lit the lamp and set it on the table. “No, honey, I’m not mad. Is there another can?” At her nod, Jim instructed her to get it. “I think I’m in the mood for a peach.”
March dug through the cabinet, searching for the other can she remembered seeing there this morning. When she found it, she handed it and the punch to him. Licking her
lips, she swore that she could still taste a lingering sweetness from the juice. Her eyes remained glued to the can as he opened it, reached in, and pulled out a piece of the fruit. Plopping it into his mouth, he licked the juice from his fingers.
“You’re right, wonderful.” His eyes twinkled as he held the can out to her. “Here, have one.”
“Oh, no … no, I couldn’t.” March put her hands behind her back to help avoid temptation.
Her eyes were huge, filled with more longing than he’d ever seen on a human face. “Sure you can,” he said, holding up another piece of fruit and sucking it into his mouth. “Better hurry or I’ll eat them all.”
Jim held the can under her nose, teasing her with the delectable fragrance. March raised her eyes to him, and he chuckled at her expression. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” he encouraged softly. Slowly, giving him plenty of time to change his mind, she reached into the can and dug out a piece of fruit. Raising it to her mouth, she nibbled off the tiniest piece, savoring the flavor that burst onto her tongue.
Leaning his hip against the table, Jim watched her eat the peach, marveling at the look of delight on her face. She didn’t gulp it down as he had done, rather she relished one tiny bite at a time, her eyes closed. He had never known that anyone could make the act of eating an experience in sensuality.
She did. She held it to her mouth and just the pink tip of her tongue came out to taste. Then her lips parted and her white teeth sank into the succulent flesh, biting a piece free. The muscles in her throat rippled as she swallowed, and her lips glistened from the juice. Jim found himself longing to lick the sweetness from her lips, to taste the flavor of the fruit from her mouth.
Swallowing back a need like none he’d ever experienced before, he held the can out, offering her the last peach.
“Are you sure?” she asked as her fingers dove into the can to snag the fruit. When she finally finished, she delicately licked each finger, her unknowingly erotic actions driving an arrow of desire through Jim’s body.
For God’s sake, she’s here to take care of your kid, his guilt-riddled conscious reminded him, as he handed her the can and watched her drink the juice. She’s only a kid herself. You should be shot for the things you’re thinking. But God, in another couple of years she was going to a beauty. Hell, she was already a beauty, standing there in her too small dress with her hair trailing down her back.
“That was … was . .
“Wonderful?” he asked in a husky voice.
March nodded, breaking into a smile that lit the room. “Even better than the first can.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t feel guilty.”
“You ate the other can of peaches, but didn’t enjoy them?”
“Oh, I enjoyed them, but I felt so guilty because I knew I shouldn’t be eating them. I guess I can resist anything but temptation,” she admitted.
Temptation, Jim thought. Girl, you don’t know what temptation is … but I do. Temptation is being alone in the dark with a beautiful woman-child and knowing that if I decided to make her mine, she wouldn’t have the strength to force me to stop. Temptation is watching her smile so sweetly, and knowing that the taste of her would be sweeter than any fruit. Temptation is wanting her as a man wants a woman, and knowing that she is far too young.
“We need to talk.”
“About the peaches?” she asked hesitantly. Perhaps she had misunderstood him, maybe he was displeased that she’d eaten them.
“No, not about peaches.” Running fingers through his dark hair, Jim looked at her standing in front of him like a child prepared to accept whatever discipline he cared to administer. “March, you are welcome to eat anything in this house. You do not have to ask permission, and you don’t have to feel guilty. If there is something special you’d like to have and they stock it in the mercantile, just add it to the list and it’ll be purchased. Do you understand?”
Yes, sir,” she replied meekly.
“Good, now that that’s settled, let’s go to my office and get better acquainted.” He turned and headed down the hall, assuming that she would follow.
March grabbed the lamp and slowly trailed behind him. Hesitant to intrude even at his invitation, she stopped at the doorway to his book- lined office. A lamp burned brightly on the corner of his desk, and she watched as he struck a match and lit the stack of kindling waiting in the fireplace.
When it was burning merrily, he stood and stretched, trying to work a few of the kinks out of his tired back. His spurs jingled as he unbuckled them, throwing them carelessly onto the top of his desk. With a sigh, he lowered himself into the massive chair behind the desk.
“Come on in, girl. Don’t just stand there like you’re afraid that something in the room will bite.”
Setting the lamp down on a table, March sat on the edge of a wing-backed, leather chair, her hands folded primly in her lap.
“Had any problems with the boy?” Jim asked. “None, he’s such a good baby, complaining only when he’s hungry or needs his towel changed.”
“Good. I guess you’ve had some experience with babies, if that crowd of kids I saw were any indication.” .
“Quite a bit.” March’s voice trailed off as she waited for his next question.
Jim was reluctant to ask about her health, feeling that a woman’s time was her personal business, but he needed to know that she was capable physically of taking care of the baby.
“You’re … ah, recovered?”
Blushing at the memory of her bloody dress, March nodded. “I’m much improved. I still get tired easily, but it’s only been a week. I should be nearly normal by this time next week.”
A week! Good lord, he thought, how long does her time last each month? The only woman he’d ever been around on a regular basis had been Melanie, but she always recovered in less than a week. He had never thought that it might be different for each woman, and that for some the process was much longer.
“Well, just take it easy, no need to push.” Jim noticed her reddened cheeks and felt his own face flush with warmth.
“I rode past the line shack this afternoon,” he said quietly, anxious to change the subject, but wondering how she’d accept the news that her family was gone.
“They’ve packed up and left,” March supplied before he could continue.
Jim nodded confirmation. Sighing, she pleated the fabric of her dress. “Papa had heard about gold being discovered in Brodie. He’d been talking about heading there for months.”
“He won’t find anything but trouble. Brodie was played out a couple of years ago. The big strike was in ‘78, and ‘bout the only thing there now is a couple of hurdy-gurdy halls and some old-timers who are too tired to move on.”
“It doesn’t matter, gold mining is hard work, and Papa isn’t going to stick with anything that involves work. He’ll hang around awhile and then move on.” March looked toward the lamp and watched the flickering flame. “I just wished he would realize how hard it is on Mama and the little ones, always having to pack up and move when he gets a spur under his blanket.”
“I know you’ll miss them.”
“Not Pa.” Realizing that she shouldn’t degrade her father, March looked at her employer. “Pa was … well, he was ornery on his good days and just plain mean the rest of the time. And I can’t say that I’ll miss Jan and Feb, they’re too much like him, even though they were never mean to me. I never saw them do anything illegal, but I have a feeling when they’re away from home they don’t remember some of the lessons Ma tried to teach them. But I’ll miss Ma and the little ones.”
“I appreciate your honesty, and I hope it will continue,” Jim said quietly, recognizing her discomfort.
“Mama always said it was better to tell the truth. When you lie, you have to remember who you told what, and it can get you in real trouble.”
“Your mother sounds like a remarkable woman.”
“She is.” Her voice lowered and filled with pain. “No matter wh
at Pa did to her, she never forgot that she was raised a lady. No matter where we lived, she expected certain standards of behavior. We lived in a cave one winter up in Colorado, and every time we’d come in from outside she’d make us wipe our feet, so that we didn’t track in snow.”
Even though March held the memory as a fond one, Jim shivered at the thought of living through a Colorado winter in a cave. March was well spoken, far above a lot of people who had never suffered as she had done. He knew that she owed that to her mother.
“Do you think you’ll be happy working here for me, or would you rather search for a job in town?”
“Oh, no, I like it here. This house is like a castle, and Jamie is an angel.”
Remembering the nights he had walked the floor carrying the crying child, Jim decided that her definition of an angel vastly differed from his.
“Your duties will be those pertaining to the house. I expect you to cook my meals when I’m here. When I’m on the range, I’ll eat at the chuck wagon. There will be several nights when I won’t get back, but Hank and Woods are always available, if you have a problem while I’m gone. They also take care of preparing meals for the wranglers. You’re to keep the house clean, do the washing and ironing, and any other domestic chore that arises. But mostly you are to see to the care of the baby.
“In exchange you’ll be provided with room and board and ten dollars a month, paid at the end of the month.”
“Ten dollars?” March’s eyes widened incredulously. She had never had more than a couple of pennies in her life, and those she had carefully hidden from her father.
“It’s yours to spend or save; it doesn’t make a difference to me. I can’t offer you a day off as I do the wranglers, since there’s no one to care for the boy, but I’ll take you to town once a month and let you spend your money if you want.”
March had only been to town a few times lately, but she remembered the reactions she had received. “That’s not necessary. I’ll be content to just stay here.”
“No, I insist, it’s only fair.” Jim leaned back, propped his feet up on the edge of the desk, and crossed his hands over his stomach. “I spend most evenings here in my office reading or doing paper work. You’re welcome to join me. After a day spent with the boy, you’ll probably need to see and talk to another adult. Bring your sewing or make free with my books. They’re here to be read.”
Desert Angel Page 7
