Wood turned and saw Hannah just outside the coop’s entrance.
“All right, I’m going,” Jeremy grumbled, calling out over his shoulder to Wood, “See you tomorrow.”
As soon as he was gone, Hannah turned on Wood, “You don’t need to feel sorry for us.”
“What makes you think I do?”
“I saw the look on your face when Jeremy spoke of his father.” She stiffened her shoulders. “We don’t need anyone’s pity. And especially not a man’s.”
“Every boy needs a father, Hannah,” he said gently.
“Another one of the unwritten rules of the male sex.”
“Perhaps it’s the voice of experience. I’ve been a young boy without a father.”
“And I’ve been a young girl without a mother.”
So they had more in common than she wanted to admit. She knew the pain of being without a parent, although from the set of her shoulders he could see that she didn’t want any sympathy from him.
“Why doesn’t Jeremy have a father?”
She stiffened. “He does, it’s just that the man chooses not to have a son.”
“He doesn’t want to be Jeremy’s father?”
“Bingo.” She walked away, pausing only to say, “We’ll need to start early in the morning.”
“Hannah, wait.” He followed her, grabbing her by the arm. “I’m sorry. The only reason I ask about Jeremy is because I think he’s a good kid.”
“Yes, he is,” she agreed. When she looked down at his hand on her arm, he released her.
“He misses having a father.” Wood stated simply.
“I know.” It was a muffled response that had him wanting to slide his arm around her and comfort her. He didn’t.
“There’s no chance that his father will ever return?”
She shook her head. “We met when I was eighteen. He was a hired hand who worked for my grandfather. Only here for the summer, but long enough for me to get pregnant.”
“Doesn’t he know that he has a son?”
“Oh, he knows,” she said bitterly. “When my grandfather found out I was pregnant, he hired someone to help us find him. Not that it did any good.”
“You couldn’t locate him?”
She made a sound of disgust. “We found him—in a small town in Wisconsin where he had already found someone to take my place. He didn’t care about me or the baby.”
For the first time he heard a vulnerability in Hannah’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he said compassionately, placing a hand on her arm.
Only she didn’t want his compassion. She slipped her arm out from his. “I’m not. He was a jerk.” The toughness was back in place. “So now you know about Jeremy’s father.”
“He’s a fool.” Wood shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to try to touch her.
“It doesn’t matter. Jeremy’s better off without him in his life.”
Wood didn’t contradict her.
“As far as I’m concerned, no male role model is better than a bad one,” she stated unemotionally.
“So now you hate all men,” he deduced aloud.
Her eyes flashed. “I don’t hate men.”
“No? Sure sounds that way to me.”
“I just don’t need them in my life. I know that’s not what most men want to hear. They want to think women are helpless and can’t make it without a man to take care of them. Well, this woman can take care of herself,” she said boldly, as if in warning. “You understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” He moved toward her, his eyes pinning hers. “So you can quit worrying that I’m going to try to get you out of those tight trousers.”
“I...I’m not worried,” she stammered, backing away from him.
“Yes you are. Every time you look at me you act as if I’m going to rip off your clothes. You’re more skittish than that silver Arabian in your pasture.”
“Don’t ftatter yourself, Mr. Dumler,” she said icily.
He moved closer to her until his face was only inches from hers. This time she didn’t back away. She stood her ground, challenging him, eye-to-eye. Her breath was warm against his face, her chest pressed against his, tempting him to disregard his common sense. When her lips parted in an open invitation, Wood realized that she was enjoying their confrontation. She was challenging him to kiss her.
And if he were Alfred Dumler he would have. But he was Wood Harris and he belonged in 1876, not 1998. As much as he wanted to take Hannah in his arms and kiss her until those pretty little lips swelled to a deep pink, he was not going to do it. Because kissing Hannah Davis was not going to help him get back to his old life.
“You can put your mind at rest. If I’m going to rip off any clothing, it’s going to be a skirt, not a pair of trousers.”
His comment only fueled her anger. “That’s exactly the kind of sexist remark I’d expect a man like you to make.”
Wood wondered what a sexist remark was. Obviously, it was something distasteful to Hannah by the way she looked down her pretty little nose at him.
“If you expect to work for me, Mr. Dumler, I don’t want to hear any of that macho posturing. Strut your stuff elsewhere or there will be no job, got it?”
“I believe I do,” he replied soberly, although he had no idea what she was talking about.
She spun around and marched back to the house.
“Macho posturing?” Wood repeated as he watched her walk away. What in hell was she talking about? He shook his head in bewilderment.
No wonder Gabby had sent for a mail-order groom. Wood could almost feel sony for the man who tackled the job of marrying Hannah Davis. But then he remembered how her lips had tasted.... At any rate, it wasn’t something he need be concerned about. He wasn’t Alfred Dumler and he was not going to be anyone’s mail-order groom.
“I THINK YOU SHOULD let Wood have the loft,” Gabby told Hannah early one morning as she cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast. “He’s behaved like a perfect gentleman ever since he’s been here.”
Hannah couldn’t argue with her aunt when it came to Wood’s behavior. There was no lack of manners on his part. Gallant was the word that often came to Hannah’s mind when describing him, which was the reason she figured Gabby was so fond of him.
“He seems perfectly content out in the bunkhouse,” Hannah noted.
“There are no facilities out there,” Gabby pointed out.
“Grandfather always made the hired help stay there.”
“You said you weren’t going to do things your grandfather’s way,” Gabby reminded her. “If we gave him the loft we wouldn’t even know he was in the house.”
Hannah would know. Despite her resolution to treat Wood as if he were any other hired hand, she hadn’t been able to keep her body from responding to his in a purely physical way. He was too male and too handsome, which is why she found herself thinking about him often, as if she were a schoolgirl with a crush on the captain of the football team.
It was bad enough that they had to bump elbows and rub thighs in the combine, she didn’t want to have to worry about running into him in the privacy of her own home. No, letting Wood stay in the house would only create more tension between the two of them.
“You still don’t trust him, do you,” Gabby continued to plead his case.
“I gave him the job, didn’t I?” Hannah said wearily.
“Only because you were uncertain if Barry would be coming back.”
“The point is, I did hire him even though he didn’t know the first thing about corn or soybeans.”
“You think he lied about his background?” Gabby’s tiny mouth fell open.
“What I can’t figure out is, if he has all that experience working on farms, why does he act as if he’s never harvested before? Unless he’s suffered some kind of a mental breakdown and can’t remember.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake! He’s not mentally ill!” Gabby vehemently defended him. “Is that why you won’t let him us
e the loft...because you think he’s crazy?”
“No, I don’t think he’s crazy,” Hannah answered honestly.
“Well, you shouldn’t.” Gabby was indignant on Wood’s behalf. “You talk to the man every day. He’s as normal as we are. And look at how good he is with Jeremy. You yourself said that once you show him something, he doesn’t forget, that he has a sharp mind.”
“He hasn’t got a clue when it comes to chemicals.”
“So they do things differently in the part of the country where he comes from. So what? Not everyone uses chemicals.”
Hannah understood Gabby’s defense of Wood. She wanted to think the best of him, too. She wanted to believe that she worried needlessly over his shortcomings.
“It isn’t just the chemicals,” Hannah continued. “There are times when he acts as if he doesn’t understand what we’re saying, like we’re speaking a foreign language or something. And did you see the look on his face when Jeremy pulled out his calculator and asked him for help with a math problem? You would have thought he’d never seen one before.”
“Because a man doesn’t surround himself with electronic gadgets doesn’t mean he’s a mental patient on the loose,” Gabby pointed out. “And he was able to help Jeremy with his math, without using a calculator. You saw how good he is with numbers.”
“I want to trust him, Gabby, honestly I do, but...”
“I think you should quit looking for reasons to discredit the man. He’s been a big help to us, especially with Barry not being here. And considering what we pay him, he’s quite a bargain.”
Hannah rubbed her forehead. “All right, all right,” she snapped impatiently. “You’ve made your point. He can have the loft.”
She didn’t need to worry that she had made a mistake caving in to her aunt’s pressure. When Wood came up to the house for breakfast, Gabby told him he was welcome to move his things into the house. To Hannah’s surprise, he turned down the offer.
“I appreciate you thinking of my comfort, but I think it’s best if I stay where I’m at,” Wood told the two women.
“Why is that?” Gabby asked.
He looked her straight in the eye and said, “Because it wouldn’t be proper.”
“Proper?” Hannah looked at him over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Being you are two single women,” Wood pointed out. “I wouldn’t want to dishonor you.”
Before Hannah could argue the point, Gabby gushed, “Why, how very sweet of you to worry about our reputations, Wood.”
“I wouldn’t want to make you the subjects of any gossip,” he said nobly.
“I hadn’t thought about that, had you, Hannah?” Gabby asked.
“You ought to know by now, Gabby, that I really don’t care what anyone says about me,” Hannah answered, her eyes meeting Wood’s in a challenge.
“But I do care,” Wood insisted. “I’ll not be the reason for your reputation being sullied.”
It had been a long time since any man had worried about her reputation. Hannah should have pointed out to him that the women’s movement was supposed to have freed women from the need for such a defense. To her surprise, however, she found his chivalrous attitude endearing, not irritating.
Once again he found a way to touch her emotionally, and she didn’t like it one bit. She shrugged, trying to sound indifferent as she said, “Very well. Stay in the bunkhouse.”
Wood could see that she was annoyed with his response to her invitation. When she left without him, slamming the screen door as she departed, he decided not to go after her, but to stay behind and talk with Gabby.
“I believe I’ve annoyed her,” he remarked when they were alone.
Gabby grinned. “I know. Isn’t it great?”
Puzzled, Wood asked, “You think it’s great that she was annoyed?”
“Well, sure! It means she cares what you do, and that’s a good sign, don’t you think?” There was a sparkle of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Gabby, are you deliberately talking in riddles?”
She came over and stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders in a reassuring gesture. “You don’t know Hannah the way I do. Our plan is working. She likes you, Wood.”
“She doesn’t behave as if she does.”
“That’s because she doesn’t want you to know that she’s attracted to you.”
“You think she fancies me?”
“Oh, my goodness, yes. I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one else is looking. Take my word for it, Wood. Hannah’s crazy for you,” she whispered close to his ear, then she gave him a couple of affectionate pats and retrieved the coffeepot.
Wood thought there was only one woman crazy in the Davis household and that was Gabby. What made her think she could get a man-hater like Hannah to agree to marry any man?
When she would have refilled his cup with coffee, he stopped her. “No, I’ve had plenty.”
“Okay.” She returned to her place at the table, looking as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “By the way, Vivian called from the library and said the books you wanted are in. I vouched for you so you could get the books.” She took a sip of coffee, then said, “You should have told me you were interested in local history, I’d have shown you those diaries that Jeremy’s looking at for his project.”
Wood hadn’t wanted to involve Gabby in his search for the past, not when there was the risk that he would come across information that would incriminate him in the murders of George and Mary Nelson.
“I appreciate the offer, Gabby, but you’ve already been so kind I can’t ask for such a favor.”
“Of course you can. Another place you can look is the historical society over in Creston. I could drive you there.”
Wood knew that Hannah didn’t want Gabby driving anywhere.
“And speaking of driving, has Hannah mentioned giving you lessons?” she inquired.
He shook his head. “I don’t believe she has the time.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can teach you. There’s really not much to it.”
Having ridden with Hannah in the pickup, Wood knew Gabby understated the difficulty.
“First you need to pass a written test. We can probably pick up a driver’s manual at the courthouse on our way to the historical society. And you’ll need identification.”
“What kind?”
“I imagine a birth certificate.”
Wood wondered if public records dated back to 1852, the year he was born. “I’m afraid I lost that a long time ago.”
“I’m sure there’s a way to get a copy of it. Nowadays everything’s done by computer. One phone call and—” she snapped her fingers “—it’s here. Do you know the name of the hospital where you were born?”
“I was born at home,” Wood told the truth.
“Oh! That could be a problem. I’ll call Clara over at the courthouse and find out what you need to do.” She scooted over to the telephone and was about to call when Wood stopped her.
“Gabby, I don’t want to trouble you over this.”
“It’s no trouble, Wood.” Again there was that innocence in her face.
“Learning how to drive isn’t why I’m here.”
“I know that, but you might as well do it. If you’re anxious over taking a test, don’t worry about it. Half the kids in the county drive without a license. The trick is not to get caught.” She winked at him. “I’ll take you out on the back roads and let you practice.”
“All right. You can give me a few lessons, but no license. Not yet.” Once he knew how to drive the car, he could go to the historical society on his own. He needed answers and he needed them soon. Life with the Davis women was getting much too complicated.
“WHEN YOU’VE FINISHED with that, I’d like you to sweep out the grain bins. The corn should be ready for harvest next week.”
Wood turned at the sound of Hannah’s voice and saw her approaching, her skintight trousers having their usual effect on him. If he
wasn’t already in a sweat, he would be soon. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that one look at her could make his blood pump as if he were running uphill.
“Just show me what needs to be done,” he called out, keeping his eyes on the pitchfork as he continued to sling hay over the fence.
“Did you feed Wilbur?”
He glanced across the corral and saw the pig was slowly ambling toward him. “I’ll get it as soon as I’m done here,” he answered, pausing to lean on the handle of the pitchfork. He couldn’t resist staring at the picture she made with her tight trousers and her bosom-hugging shirt. If he didn’t keep his mind focused on what needed to be done, he could easily be distracted by her beauty.
“Fine. Come over to the equipment shed when you’re finished.” Her voice was cool, making him think that Gabby had to be wrong. Hannah was not thinking of him as anything but a hired hand. “By the way, I turned on the fence so be careful,” she added, then started toward the machinery shed.
Turned on the fence? He was about to ask her what she meant when Wilbur snorted. Wood stuck the pitchfork in the bale of hay, then stepped closer to the wire fence.
“Come here, boy,” he called out to the pig. He slipped a hand through the wire and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back on the ground. Hannah’s face was over his, filled with anxiety as she cradled his prone figure in her arms.
“Wood! Talk to me! Are you all right?” she called out frantically.
“What happened?”
“You touched the electric fence. Didn’t you hear me say I had turned it on?”
He grimaced. “You’ve got electricity running through that thing?”
“Fifteen hundred volts.”
“Is that a lot?”
“Enough to give a person a good jolt, but I’ve never seen it throw anyone off his feet.”
Still stunned, he asked, “I’m not dead, am I?”
“No, you’re going to be okay. It’s just that your body’s had a shock, that’s all,” she answered sympathetically.
Wood’s body tingled, reminding him of how he had felt when he awoke after the time travel. “What year is it?”
“1998.”
Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) Page 13
