by Mary Burton
How long had it been since he’d had a hot meal? “No matter.”
“I wrapped them in a cloth for you to take to the range.”
He frowned down at the bundle she pushed across the table toward him. More irritated, he swallowed the last of his coffee and scooped up the bundle. He’d not grow dependent on her. “I’d best get going.”
She followed him to the door. “We’ll see you this evening.”
He shrugged on his guns and reached for his coat. “You won’t have trouble with the boys?” He couldn’t say why, but he didn’t worry about leaving Tommy and Quinn with her. She’d do right by them.
She smiled. “We’ll be fine.”
No, today wouldn’t be hard. The hard part would come later when she left. Sooner or later she’d realize how harsh this land could be and she’d leave. He resolved to have a talk with the boys. He didn’t want them getting too attached to Miss Smyth.
She held out his hat, standing so close to him that he could feel the heat of her body. Her eyes sparked with a nervous anticipation. He’d always kissed Elise goodbye before he headed out to the range. Logic reminded him that he had hired Miss Smyth for the summer—nothing more, nothing less. And still, he wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, to hold her in his arms, and feel her body nestled close to his.
What would one kiss hurt? Just to touch her once. Abruptly he stopped the train of thought and took a step back.
“You look angry,” she said. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No.” Matthias shrugged on his coat. He snatched his hat, jerked open the front door and closed it behind him.
Wind carried the brisk air across the valley churning the loosely packed snow. Tucking his head low, he headed toward the barn to milk the cow.
No matter what his body demanded, his brain understood that Miss Smyth was off limits.
Abby stared at the closed front door, wondering what she’d done wrong. She’d not expected anything from Mr. Barrington, but then his gaze had met hers. And instantly, she had seen the heat. Desire had seared her body. And she’d wanted to feel his lips against her.
But the fire in Mr. Barrington had vanished as quickly as hers had ignited. From the ashes, frustration and anger had risen.
She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. How had her life become such a complete mess so fast?
The fact that she wanted a man who didn’t want her scared her more than the wilderness. Perhaps she should consider cutting her losses as he’d suggested all along and simply leave.
She shook her head. There was no going back to San Francisco. Her uncle would have discovered the missing money by now. He’d never have her arrested, fearing a scandal, but he would see to it that no one hired her if she returned.
Then again, she didn’t have to return home. Chicago was less than a week’s ride. And there was the east.
“Mommy!” Quinn’s panicky voice sliced through her thoughts. He was still asleep, but thrashing wildly. Tommy slept next to him but it would be just a matter of seconds before he’d wake if she didn’t quiet Quinn.
Abby hurried over to the bed, stumbling around a sack of flour in the process. She sat on the edge of the bed and patted the boy on the back. “It’s all right, Quinn, Abby’s here.”
Her touch soothed the boy and soon he settled down. He put his thumb in his mouth and rolled onto his stomach.
Abby’s heart squeezed as she saw the worry lines in the boy’s face. She stroked the bangs off his forehead, studying the sprinkle of freckles there. His frown reminded her of Mr. Barrington, as did his nose. But his lighter coloring and pale blond hair were likely from his mother.
“Momma,” he mumbled, his thumb still in his mouth.
She remembered those long nights after her own mother had died. The loneliness had been crushing and there’d been no one to talk to, no one to dry her tears. Quinn was only four but his sadness was just as real.
She glanced over at Tommy, who slept on the edge of the other side of the bed. On his back, his mouth hung open. He was snoring. Tommy was so young. Likely, he barely remembered his mother.
But Quinn did remember. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the forehead. “It’s all right, Quinn. I won’t leave you.”
The front door slammed closed.
She jumped to her feet and saw Mr. Barrington standing at the front door holding a bucket of milk. Snowflakes peppered his shoulders and hat. And his expression looked murderous.
“What’s going on?” he said, his voice sharp.
She rose. “Quinn had a nightmare. He was calling for his mother,” she whispered.
Mr. Barrington’s features softened a fraction. “He’s not had those in a while. Frank’s leaving must have stirred up old dreams.”
“He’s back to sleep now. And if you keep your voice down he’ll stay that way for another hour or two. I could use the quiet to get the dishes clean.”
He strode into the kitchen and set the bucket down. He paused for a moment, then shoved out a breath and faced her. “Maybe it’s best you leave as soon as the snow melts. It’ll be a day or two at the most.”
He was looking after his children. But so was she now.
She stared at him a long moment, then nodded toward the front door. “You forgot your lunch. You best get going. We both have a lot of work to do.”
Mr. Barrington’s eyes narrowed and for a moment she thought he’d argue. But he didn’t. He turned and left. This time there was no hint of a kiss, no jolt of desire.
Abby doubted she’d ever worked so hard as she did this day. In San Francisco, her days had been filled with activity but there’d always been diversions to get her out of the kitchen. Back home, after breakfast was served, she had a quiet half hour to read and enjoy her breakfast. And the midmorning trips to the market were always time for gossip and conversation with the vendors.
But in Montana, the work never stopped. It took her nearly a half hour to scrub caked-on food from the skillet and bowls. As soon as the dishes were stacked neatly on the dish rack, she dug a few cakes of yeast and flour from the town supplies and made sourdough starter so that by week’s end there’d be bread for the table. Next, it was time to strain the milk.
She’d just begun sorting the supplies when Quinn sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes.
“I have to pee,” he said.
Hearing his brother’s voice Tommy sat up and yawned. “Me, too.”
She thought about her own early-morning trip through the snow to the outhouse. She shivered. “Well, then, get your coats and boots on. There are a couple of inches of snow on the ground out there.”
Quinn’s eyes brightened. “Snow!” He scrambled out of bed and tugged on his well-worn boots.
Tommy quickly yanked on his boots and ran up to Abby. He thrust his foot toward her. “Tie me.”
Abby knelt down. She pulled the shoe’s tongue up straight and smoothed out his socks before she tied the shoelaces. His toes bumped against the tips of the shoes. He’d need new ones soon.
Both boys grabbed their jackets from the edge of the bed where Matthias had left them last night and hurried out the front door.
“Be careful out there!” Abby said, running after them as she shrugged on her own coat.
Laughing, they ran to the outhouse. Quinn scooped up a handful of snow and hurled it at Tommy, hitting him squarely in the chest. Instead of crying, Tommy grabbed his own ball of snow and propelled it into Quinn’s head.
“That’s enough out of you two,” she schooled. “You’ve no clean clothes and I don’t want you getting wet.”
The boys’ laughter trailed through the clean morning air as they darted into the outhouse while Abby waited outside.
“Is everything all right in there?”
“Yessss,” Quinn shouted.
When she didn’t hear from Tommy, she knocked on the door. “Tommy?”
“My buttons are stuck.”
Though she’d heard enough of Cook’s bawdy
stories, she had no firsthand knowledge of the male plumbing. She could unhook buttons, but Tommy was on his own from there.
“Come out here then,” she said, opening the door. Quinn was just fastening his pants.
Tommy wiggled and shifted his feet from side to side. “Hurry.”
She wrestled with the buttons. “If you’d stop wiggling, I would.”
He held still for all of two or three seconds before he started wiggling again. Fortunately, this time she unhooked the buttons and scooted him back into the outhouse. “Quinn, stay with your brother in case he needs assistance.”
“He can do it by himself. Pa showed him.”
She thought about Tommy’s slender body falling into the outhouse hole. “Well, just stay in there anyway.”
Quinn grumbled something about babies, then shouted, “He’s spraying the walls.”
“With what?” Abby shouted.
Tommy giggled. So did Quinn.
Abby opened the door just as Tommy yanked up his pants. The smell of urine told her exactly what he’d been about. “Thomas Barrington, come out here this instant.”
She knelt down and started to fasten his pants. “No more spraying.”
The boys laughed.
Abby couldn’t help but smile. She had not the faintest idea how to raise boys, but she imagined it would be an adventure.
She hustled the children back into the warm cabin and took off her coat. As she hung her coat on the peg by the door, Quinn and Tommy shrugged theirs off and dropped them on the floor.
“Oh, no, little misters. We’ll be hanging our coats from now on.”
“But Pa doesn’t care,” Quinn said.
“I do.”
He crossed his arms. “But you ain’t our ma.”
“That is correct, but you will hang your coats, nonetheless. And the correct word is aren’t, not ain’t.” She moved a kitchen chair closer to the pegs. “Climb up now and hang those coats. We’ll wash up for breakfast and then get to work on this place.”
“Breakfast!” Tommy said. He scrambled up on the chair. “I’m hungry.”
Quinn kept his lips flat and his expression defiant, but she saw the twinkle of excitement in his eyes.
After the boys washed their hands, she served them hard tack, ham and warmed milk. Neither complained about the simple fare and each asked for seconds.
Once the breakfast dishes were scraped and cleaned, they set about the task of sorting through the supplies from town.
When the downstairs was somewhat organized she climbed the ladder to her loft. The boys followed. Together they smoothed out the blankets.
“What’s that?” Quinn said pointing to her bundle of possessions still bound in the tablecloth.
“It’s just a few things I brought from home.”
She unwrapped the tablecloth. As if they’d found a buried treasure, the boys studied the meager contents. Quinn picked up a brush and Tommy studied her black Sunday shoes, which had long lost their sheen.
“What’s that?” Quinn said pointing to a package wrapped in pink tissue paper and bound with a delicate white ribbon.
That special extra purchase she’d bought when she’d arrived in Sacramento. It was a cotton nightgown trimmed with lace and bought special for her wedding night. Less than two weeks ago she’d watched the shopkeeper gently wrap the gown in the tissue paper. She’d imagined what it would feel like to have her husband unfasten the row of tiny pearls that trailed down the middle.
Then, her husband had no face. He’d simply been words on a page.
Now, he was a flesh-and-blood man, with rawboned features and penetrating blue eyes. This time she pictured Matthias’s rough hands on the buttons and her naked flesh. A burning sensation flared in her body.
“It’s nothing of import,” she said, her voice rusty. She cleared her throat and set the bundle aside.
The gown, like her dreams, had no place in Montana.
Chapter Seven
By late afternoon the sun scorched through the clouds, revealing a vibrant blue sky. Under the warming sun, the snow thinned to reveal patches of green dotting the countryside.
Watching his herd of cattle, Matthias leaned forward in his saddle. His low-crowned Stetson blocked the bright sun from his eyes.
Last night’s snowfall had been a few inches at most. If the warm temperatures held, it would be completely gone by tomorrow and his cattle would soon be grazing. This snowfall had been an annoyance, but not a disaster like the crushing blizzards of a year ago when he’d lost half his herd.
Those had been some of the darkest days of his life. As his cattle had died, he’d been trapped in the cabin with the boys and a wife who by then didn’t have the strength to get out of bed. His life had been falling apart. He’d never felt more helpless, more out of control.
A sane man would have abandoned his land which had bled so much from him. Yet he had stayed. He’d never walked away from a fight and he hadn’t walked away from this one.
And look what it had cost him.
Anger choked his throat.
He should still cut his losses and move back to Missouri. Frank had said there’d be a place for him if he returned. He hated the idea of returning east and never would have considered the move if his choices only involved him. But he had the boys to consider.
Back east, they could go to a real school, have friends of their own and not worry each winter if this one would be the one to finally crush their tiny family.
But the idea of returning to the city where a man could barely breathe stuck in Matthias’s craw. And with the railroad scouts looking for cattle and horses, he was so close to making a fine profit.
He looked up at the cloudless sky. “I reckon you think I’m a fool, Elise. You were right when you said we should leave.” He’d taken to talking to Elise when he was out on the range. If anyone were to see him, they’d think him a damn fool, but talking to her had helped keep him sane this last year.
The whisper of the wind in the trees was his only answer.
“I reckon you know by now I hired a woman to look after the boys. She seems good with them and she’s got a kind heart. I’m certain she’ll pick up stakes by the end of the summer. I remember how much you hated it out here.”
He rubbed his forehead. He didn’t dare voice his attraction to Miss Smyth. Speaking it aloud would make it all the more tangible. The more sinful. “She’s only a hired hand,” he said with a little too much emphasis. “I made a pledge to you never to love again.”
It had been a promise he’d made as Elise lay dying. In those dark hours, he’d have bargained with the devil to save her. “And I’m going to keep my word.”
Suddenly tired, he reined his horse around and started back to the cabin. He arrived an hour before sunset, but by the time he’d finished his chores in the barn, the sun had dipped behind the horizon. Orange-red light slashed across the land and the distant mountains. This was his favorite time of day. The fading sun set the land ablaze. The beauty of it always took his breath away. There were no views like this in Missouri.
As soon as his boot hit the front step, he heard the boys yelling, “Pa!” He smiled. As tired as he was, he liked hearing the excitement in their voices.
He reached for the front door just as it jerked open. The boys piled out onto the porch. Each was jumping up and down excitedly at the threshold. He squatted, not remembering the last time he’d seen them this lively.
Tommy swept his arms wide, proudly showcasing the cabin. “Look what we did today.”
Quinn frowned, placing his small hand over Matthias’s eyes. “No! No! First you close your eyes.”
“We played games today!” Tommy said.
Matthias chuckled. “What kind of games?”
“We made laundry piles! And we put away boxes!”
Matthias nodded, marveling at the fact that Miss Smyth had turned chores into an adventure. “Miss Smyth’s games.”
“Yes,” Quinn said. “Now keep your e
yes closed and I will lead you inside.”
Matthias complied, rising slowly as each boy took a hold of his hands.
“Don’t peek, Pa,” Tommy said.
“I’m not,” he said. He moved into the main room, half expecting to trip over one of the sacks or boxes he’d hauled in last night. “When are you going to let me see?”
“Now!” Quinn said.
Matthias opened his eyes, his gaze scanning the room. Not only had the bed been made but all the supplies had been put away. Laundry piles—one dark and one light—sat neatly in the corner. The wood floor had been swept clean and the dishes in the sink had been scrubbed and stacked on the shelves.
The smell of freshly baked beans and corn cakes greeted him. He’d not realized how hungry he was until this moment, and his mouth started to water.
A rustle of skirts and the clang of pots had his gaze swinging to the kitchen. There he saw Miss Smyth, still wearing Elise’s blue-checkered apron, only now it was covered with smudges of cornmeal. Since this morning she’d coiled her braid into a tight knot at the base of her neck. To his surprise he preferred her braid loose, swinging seductively above her bottom.
She turned then and their gazes locked. As if reading his thoughts, color rose in her neck and cheeks as she looked at him. “Welcome home.”
For the first time in his life, he felt awkward with a woman. Not a wife or a lover, yet more than just a servant. He cleared his throat. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“There’s been a lot to do.” She lowered her gaze back to her pot on the stove. “Supper is ready if you’re hungry.”
“I could eat a bear.”
Quinn frowned. “We don’t have bear, Pa, only beans.”
Matthias laughed. Lord, but it felt good to laugh. “Beans will be just fine.”
“Well, have a seat at the table,” she said. “I’ll make you a plate.”
He noticed then that the kitchen table had been cleaned. Napkins were folded and tucked under the forks and a plate of biscuits set in the center. The table looked inviting. He felt like a traitor for thinking it, but for the first time in a while he was glad to be home.
