Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)

by BAUER, Pamela

  Suddenly Wood had an uneasy feeling. Was this Alfred person supposed to help these two women with their financial woes? If so, his web of deceit could end up trapping him but good. What money he had was locked up in a bank in Missouri—or at least it was in 1876.

  “I’m not a man of means, Gabby,” Wood confessed soberly.

  “I know that, Wood. I picked you because of who you are, not because of how much money you have.”

  Wood was afraid he had offended her. “Of course. I didn’t mean to offend your integrity.”

  She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “All that matters is that you and Hannah hit it off. Isn’t that what’s important in situations like this?”

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed, unsure what hit it off meant.

  “First she needs to get used to having you around, then she’ll see for herself what a special man you are...” she trailed off with a dreamy look on her face. “I think you’re going to be just perfect for her.”

  Guilt punched Wood in the stomach. He had no intention of staying and becoming Hannah’s “perfect” hired hand. “I mean no disrespect, Gabby, but Hannah appears to be eager for me to leave.”

  “Oh, no, she’s not. She’s agreed to let you stay for a couple of days.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Oh, yes. And I’m hoping two days will lead to three and then four and so on and so on...” She gave him a shy expectant grin.

  Wood didn’t know how long he would need the Davises’ hospitality. Hopefully, the real Alfred Dumler wouldn’t make his presence known until Wood had traveled back to 1876.

  “And if she wants me to leave after the two days are up?” he queried.

  “That’s where it’s up to you to convince her to let you stay. Whether or not Hannah wants to admit it, she needs someone like you.”

  Wood was quite certain that Hannah wouldn’t agree, but he didn’t contradict the old lady. Right now Gabby Davis was his only ally.

  “No matter how long I stay, I want you to know that I’ll work for my keep.”

  “Until our plan works?”

  If that plan included a job, Wood couldn’t say no. “Yes, ma’am. What about Hannah? What do I do to convince her I can do the job?”

  “First thing, you need to show her that you’re smart. One thing she can’t stand is foolishness.” She wagged her finger at him. “And you have to show her you mean business. I’m warning you, it’s going to be a challenge.”

  “You sound as if you want to help me,” he said with a smile.

  “I do,” Gabby said. “But it’s going to be tough.” Gabby went on. “Hannah’s a bit hard-headed at times. You spend an hour with me and I’ll tell you what you need to know to fit in around here. But first we need to get you some clothes and a haircut.” She appraised him for several seconds and added, “Well, maybe the hair’s all right.”

  “And my mustache?”

  “It looks like it’s been there a long time.”

  Wood smiled and thought to himself. Oh, if you only knew how long.

  “WHERE IS HE?” Hannah asked as she stepped into the kitchen and saw Gabby at the stove.

  “Are you talking about Wood?” Gabby looked up from gravy she was stirring.

  “Yes, I mean Wood.” She slipped her baseball cap onto the rack near the door. “I don’t suppose we’re lucky enough to have him on the bus that left Stanleyville at ten.”

  Gabby shot her a reproving look. “He’s resting. I think by tomorrow he’ll be able to help you with the chores.”

  “I don’t want him helping me with the chores,” she retorted. “What I want is to send him packing. Oops, forgot.” She gave her aunt a contrite look. “Can’t pack when you have nothing to pack, can you?”

  Gabby made a gesture as if she might whack Hannah with her wooden spoon.

  “Just go tell him lunch is ready, will you?”

  Reluctantly, Hannah went to fetch Wood from the bunkhouse. “Okay, Wood Dumler, time to get up,” she called out, marching into the bunkhouse in a military fashion.

  When there was no answer, she mumbled to herself, “My goodness, you do sleep soundly. Wood!” she shouted.

  Still, there was no movement from the bunk area. As Hannah crossed the wooden floor, she saw him spread out on a cot, his stomach to the mattress, his torso bare. “I suppose I should be grateful he’s at least wearing pants,” she murmured as she approached the bed.

  It only took a moment for Hannah to realize why he slept on his stomach. Dark, ugly bruises covered his back. She clutched her midsection, sickened by the thought of what kind of pain had been inflicted to cause the discoloration on Wood’s back. He said he had fallen from a horse, but unless he had been dragged on the ground, she doubted any fall would produce so many contusions.

  This time when she called out his name, he awoke. He seemed surprised to see her standing there. As he rolled to his side, he grimaced, obviously in discomfort. As soon as he saw the sympathy on Hannah’s face, he tried to act as if nothing was wrong.

  “Why does your back look like a stampede of cattle crossed it?” she asked.

  “Perhaps one did.” He reached for the shirt at the foot of the bed.

  “Don’t be flip with me, Wood.”

  “Flip?”

  “I want a straight answer.”

  He stood, so that he towered over her, then leaned close and said next to her ear, “I encountered the wrong folks on my way to Minnesota.”

  If he had wanted to shock her, he succeeded. “You’ve been beaten.” Hannah shuddered as she realized that he must have been bound and gagged. It would explain why there were rope bums on his neck and wrists.

  He turned around, as if suddenly modest, to slip on his shirt.

  “You need to put some dressings on your back,” she advised him.

  He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the tube of analgesic creme she had given him that morning. “I’ve been using this.”

  “You need something stronger. Come with me.”

  “You don’t have to...” He started to protest but she hushed him.

  “Come with me,” she ordered.

  He did, following her across the yard and to the house. Gabby’s eyes twinkled as she watched Hannah drag their guest by the hand, through the kitchen, the front of his shirt partially buttoned. Up the stairs they went, this time Hannah pushing Wood in front of her as they climbed.

  Once they were in the bathroom, she had him remove his shirt while she rummaged through one of the cupboards. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for—a halfempty bottle of a yellow liquid.

  “This is a strong liniment the doctor prescribed for me when I fell off the roof last fall. I had some bruises that looked almost as bad as those.” She grimaced as she examined his back.

  “What were you doing on the roof?”

  “Trying to fix the TV antenna. It got all twisted around during a storm, and Gabby was upset because she couldn’t watch her soaps,” she said as she unscrewed the cap.

  Wood had no idea what a TV antenna was or why Gabby would want to watch soap, but he could picture Hannah on the roof, and the thought sent a chill through him. “Forgive me for sayin’ so, ma’am, but a woman should not climb a roof. That’s man’s work.”

  She poured a small puddle of the liquid into her palm and paused. “Just for the record, Wood, there is no man’s work or woman’s work here on the farm. It’s just plain old work. Not that it matters, because in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a man. I am, however, a capable woman,” she reminded him of his own words. “Now turn a bit and I’ll put this on for you.”

  She had a gentle, soothing touch that had Wood closing his eyes as she spread the liniment across his battered and bruised flesh. It was a bittersweet experience, her fingers applying the balm tenderly to the painful contusions.

  “Sorry,” she murmured when he flinched from the discomfort. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” He wanted her to
rub not only his back, but his chest as well. And his arms, his legs... He shook his head at the improper direction his thoughts were headed.

  It did no good. Hannah’s touch created a physical reaction in him that couldn’t be denied. He only hoped he could prevent her from seeing it.

  He couldn’t. As she finished his back, she craned her head around his front side to see if there were any bruises on his chest. As she did, she noticed the bulge in trousers that were already too tight for him.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to finish.” She set the bottle on the cabinet, her cheeks red, her eyes avoiding his. “You can use this wherever you have soreness. I’d better go help Gabby with lunch.”

  Without another word or a glance in his direction, she left.

  HANNAH ALWAYS CLEANED the kitchen after their noon meal, giving Gabby a chance to take her daily nap. Today she would have liked to exit the house as fast as possible. Lunch with Wood had been an unsettling experience. While Gabby had chatted with him as if he were a long-lost friend, Hannah had sat awkwardly, feeling as if she were the unwanted visitor, not he.

  It was an unusual experience for her—being intimidated by a man. Normally with a couple of pointed looks and a few sharp words she could send the message that she was not a woman who wanted or needed a man’s attention. But she didn’t feel like her normal self when she was in Wood’s company. Her emotions acted like the jumping beans Jeremy had brought home from the county fair—she never knew which way they’d move.

  That’s why when Gabby went upstairs to take her nap, she said to Wood, “You probably want to go back to the bunkhouse and rest.”

  Wood stared at her, twirling his fork between his fingertips. “I feel rested, thank you. Gabby said I should ask you what you want me to help you do.”

  There was something disturbing about the way he coolly looked her up and down as he spoke to her. She decided to take the offensive rather than let him put her on the defensive.

  “Look, if you’re feeling well enough to work, then I guess you’re well enough to travel.” She didn’t want to be rude, but she wanted him out of her house.

  “What about the job?” he asked.

  “There is no job. Gabby should have never said that there was.” Hannah started clearing the dishes from the table to avoid looking at his eyes. “I’m sorry if it’s caused you any inconvenience, but that’s the way it is.”

  He stopped playing with his fork. “This morning you told me I could stay a few days and prove that I can do the job.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to look at him.

  “I should have known this was coming. It’s because of what happened in the bath, isn’t it?”

  “Hardly,” she denied vehemently. “I’ve seen naked men before, Mr. Dumler,”

  “That may be, but then why is it every time your eyes meet mine your cheeks turn pink?”

  She turned to face him, determined not to blush. “You think I’m embarrassed?”

  “It’s understandable. Walking in on a man at a most private moment would cause any respectable lady’s cheeks to blush.” His dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

  Hannah couldn’t believe her ears! He was talking to her as if she had deliberately tried to sneak a peek at his private parts.

  “Only because you didn’t answer the door. I thought you might have fallen and bumped your head...or passed out or something,” she explained, her voice rising as she clanged cups and glasses together.

  “I dozed off for a few minutes.”

  Again, the memory of him in that tub of water flashed in her mind, and she felt her body warm. She wished she had never pulled that damn shower curtain open. But she had, and she had looked at him and as much as she wanted to deny it, she had seen all of Wood Dumler.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She dismissed the subject, hoping that at the same time she could get rid of the image of him in that tub. She didn’t. “What we should be discussing is when you plan to leave.”

  The sparkle of humor left his eyes. “Gabby warned me you might give me the heave-ho.”

  “Did she also tell you that I didn’t answer your ad?”

  He nodded. “She said you’re too stubborn to admit you need help. She also said something about you wanting to prove that a woman can run this farm without a man.”

  “I can,” she said with a lift of her chin.

  “I guess I don’t see why you wouldn’t want another strong pair of hands.”

  “It’s not the hands I object to, it’s the body that goes with them,” she retorted, then carried a stack of plates over to the sink.

  He got up out of his chair and followed her. “Am I supposed to take that in its literal sense?”

  He wanted to make her blush and he succeeded. “You can take it any way you like.”

  “Does that mean if I promise to keep my clothes on I can stay?” he asked.

  Once again Hannah couldn’t believe her ears. He was flirting with her. Unwanted, came a physical response that started somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. It was a series of tremors she couldn’t locate but she knew they were there just the same. She needed to squelch it quickly.

  “This has nothing to do with what happened when you were in the tub,” she stated in as dull a tone as she could muster. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Because I’m a man?”

  His proximity caused her pulse to flutter and she sidestepped him to collect the pots and pans from the stove. “Why is it when a woman doesn’t want or need the help of a man, you men think it’s a sexual issue?” she asked, slamming the dishes onto the cupboard with a clatter.

  “Isn’t it?” His dark brown eyes didn’t waver from her face.

  “No.” She plunged her hands into the soapy dishwater to keep them from trembling. “For someone who desperately wants a job, you’re not winning any points with the boss,” she warned.

  He stepped even closer and her heartbeat went up another notch. “Pardon me, ma’am, if I offended you. I was merely making an observation. I apologize for any inconsiderate comments I may have made. Attribute it to my ignorance. I’ve never been on a farm run by women.”

  His apology disarmed her. One minute he was flirting with her, the next he was sincerely contrite. “Maybe you’d have trouble working for a woman?”

  “I don’t believe I would.”

  “Have you ever worked for a woman before?”

  “No, but that does not mean I would have difficulty working for you. I know this is your farm and you’re going to do things your way. I respect that. I’m a hard worker, Hannah. I could help you if you’d let me.”

  When those brown eyes softened, so did her resistance. “I’m sorry, but the truth is I can’t afford to pay another hired hand.”

  “All you have to give me is a roof over my head and three meals a day,” he told her. “I don’t expect any wages.”

  “That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  “It’s all I need for now.”

  Hannah could hardly believe that she was considering saying yes. She knew little about him other than the fact that he had been beaten and now appeared to have no place to go other than her farm. Her common sense screamed not to listen to her heart that saw the plea for compassion in those compelling brown eyes.

  “Let me think it over,” she heard herself say.

  WOOD SPENT most of the afternoon watching the clock. Ever since Gabby had told him Jeremy would be home at three-thirty, he had been edgy as he waited for the boy to return from school. Gabby thought he needed more rest, but what he needed was to find a way back to his sister. Right now, Jeremy appeared to be the only one with information that could possibly help him.

  “Wow. You look different,” the lad said when he saw Wood waiting for him on the porch steps.

  “I had a bath.” Wood stood, feeling uneasy in his twentieth-century trousers. “The clothes don’t fit.” He tugged on the cuff of the denim shirt.
>
  Outlaw, who had been at Jeremy’s side ever since he had hopped off the school bus, now transferred his affection to Wood, sniffing at his leg. Wood automatically reached down to scratch the dog’s ears.

  “Outlaw likes you. He’s the one who found you after you got struck by lightning.”

  “Is that what you think happened to me?” Wood wondered if that hadn’t been the reason why he had traveled from 1876 to 1998.

  “You were next to this big old oak on the Nelson forty. Lightning ripped one of its branches right off.” His eyes widened at the memory.

  “Would you take me to the tree?”

  “You want to see it?”

  When Wood nodded, he gestured for him to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  As they walked, Jeremy recounted in detail what had happened the afternoon of the storm. When they reached a large oak with a broken limb, he said, “There it is. Mom says it’s probably the oldest tree on the farm. Look at how fat the trunk is.”

  Wood stared at the oak, trying to imagine what it had looked like one hundred and twenty-two years ago. Was this the tree from which he had hung?

  Jeremy motioned for Wood to follow him. “If you come around this side you can see that it was hit by lightning one other time. It has a scar, see?”

  Wood digested everything Jeremy had told him. Could this tree be the spot where his time travel had occurred? If it was, then it was possible that Jeremy’s theory that he had been struck by lightning was correct. After all, Wood could remember sitting on the horse with a noose around his neck just as a bolt of lightning flashed in the sky.

  “Where was I the first time you saw me?” he asked, surveying his surroundings.

  Jeremy dropped down into the tall grass and spread his arms and legs. “You were lying just like this, with that tree limb right above your head.”

  Wood got down beside him, hoping to jar some memory that would answer his questions. Stretched out in the tall grass, he closed his eyes and willed his mind to recall what had happened.

  “You know you’re lucky you’re not dead,” Jeremy told him, sounding very adult-like.