by Lydia Olson
“Maybe I can help with the chickens,” Jane said. “I’m no good with the pitchfork.”
Milton laughed. He removed his hands from her face, and she missed the feeling of his warm skin on hers.
Milton and Jane stood before one another. They were only inches apart from one another. If Jane leaned forward, she could brush her lips against his. She longed to. She and Milton had only kissed once, on their wedding day, and at the time she had been too nervous to enjoy it too much.
“We should get back to work,” Milton said.
He moved away from her, and she felt a bit of disappointment, but she wasn’t going to let it ruin their day together.
“Grab the pitchfork,” Milton ordered. “You’re going to learn about how to do this correctly.”
Jane wanted to argue, but she didn’t. Instead, she picked up the pitchfork and readied herself to learn. After all, if she were going to be Milton’s wife then she would have to learn how to do these things.
Maybe we will be partners after all. Jane could hope.
Chapter Ten
Milton smiled as he thought about Jane. It was something that he did a lot these days. He had tried to stay away from her. He did not want to give her false hopes of romance, but he found that he enjoyed her company so much that he wanted to spend time with her.
“Are you certain I can’t help?” Jane asked.
Milton had come inside for a small lunch. It was something that had changed in the last few weeks. One of the many things that had been upended by Jane’s presence. A part of him hated how off balance she made his previous life and routines, but it was hard to be too angry.
“I’m certain that my wife should not be herding cattle,” he told her with a small chuckle. He had started to give Jane some work around the ranch. He had not wanted to do it. He still believed that she did not need to work around the ranch. She could cook better than anyone he had ever met, and he was happy to have her do that. But Jane was stubborn.
He smiled as he thought about the first time she pitched hay. She’d gotten better over the weeks, but her farm skills were still lacking. Outside of cooking, Milton found that Jane had a way with animals. She was the only person that he trusted with his horses. He knew that she would take just as good care of them as he did.
“I want to earn my keep,” Jane said. “Everyone here has a job.” This was her newest argument.
“There’s no need to earn your keep,” Milton reminded her. “You’re my wife.”
Jane said nothing, but Milton could tell that she was frustrated. He sighed. He wasn’t sure what else he could do to make her happy. Jane had told him about the many things she had taken care of on her father’s ranch, and he understood that she was used to having much more to do, but Milton did not feel the need to overwork her. It angered him that her father had done so; that was bad enough. From what he gathered from Jane it did not seem that her sister had ever had to work.
“How are you liking lunch?” Jane asked, changing the subject
She baked a meat pie for him. It was delicious, but he could only eat a small piece. He’d made the mistake of eating a large lunch last week, and he’d barely been able to keep his eyes open in the last remnants of the fall heat.
“It’s delicious,” he said. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Thank you,” she said.
A pretty blush overtook her cheeks. Milton could be a hard man. He knew that, but he was making an effort to be more open with Jane. That included praising her. Every person who ate her dishes commented on what a wonderful cook she was.
“How would you feel about throwing a party?” Milton asked.
The idea popped into his head before he could stop it. He was trying to find a way to get Jane away from the idea that she needed to work on his land, and he wanted her to become more interested in traditionally female pastimes.
Sara had suggested taking her into town and introducing her to some ladies, but Milton didn’t think Jane would like that. She was a quiet woman. He did not wish to overwhelm her with company. Milton himself did not always care to have people in his space, and he certainty did not enjoy having parties.
“A party?”
Milton nodded. He prayed that he did not regret this idea.
“I thought it would be good for you to meet some people in town.”
“Oh,” Jane said. She pressed her napkin to her cheek. It was a nervous gesture that Milton recognized. She did that whenever Hank made a silly comment that was inappropriate to be said in front of ladies.
“We don’t have to do it if you aren’t comfortable,” Milton said. He reached across the table and touched his hand to Jane’s. Her skin was as smooth as silk. He pressed his thumb to her wrist and massaged the skin back and forth in a comforting manner.
“No,” Jane said. She tipped her chin in an almost defiant manner. “I’m happy to host some townspeople. I’ll have to speak to Sara about it. I’m afraid that this is one area where I do not have much skill.”
“No one will know,” Milton said. “They’ll take one bite of one of these pies, and they won’t care a bit about the party.”
Jane grimaced, and Milton knew that he had said the wrong thing. “What I meant to say is, that you’ll do a great job.”
Jane smiled, but it seemed forced. “I’m surprised that you want to throw have a gathering.”
“Why?” Milton asked. She wasn’t wrong. Milton’s only real friends were Hank and Sara. He respected his men, but he would not necessarily call them friends. They were employees, and he did not share his personal thoughts and feelings with them. He barely shared those things with those he considered friends.
Jane’s teeth sunk into her pink bottom lip.
“Whatever it is,” Milton said. “You won’t offend me by saying it.” Milton wasn’t easily upset by things. He knew who he was, and he was comfortable with it. At least, he was before he met Jane.
“You don’t seem the type to want to go to a party let alone want to throw one.”
Milton laughed. He was starting to think that nothing got past Jane. He had learned that she was quiet because she was always watching. Like Milton, Jane preferred to fade into the background.
“I thought it would be a nice way for you to meet the members of the town.”
Jane said nothing, but she continued biting on her lower lip, clearly contemplating his words. She’d already agreed to the party, so he couldn’t fathom what else she might want to know.
“How many people are you expecting?” she asked.
Milton sat contemplating her question. He honestly hadn’t thought too much about it. He figured that Jane would take care of all the logistics. He realized now that that was silly. Jane didn’t know anyone. She might do the cooking, but he would have to play the role of host until Jane became more familiar with the townsfolk.
“A dozen or so,” Milton said.
“A dozen?”
Milton nodded. “Sara and Hank, Sara’s sister and her husband. We’d also want some of the other ranchers to come. I don’t do a great deal of work with them, but enough to keep relations between us cordial.”
Jane nodded. Her eyes were wide as she took in the information. Milton felt badly. He wanted her to enjoy the party.
“It’ll be fine,” he told her. “You’ll be able to meet some of the wives, and I’m sure you’ll find things to talk about.”
These past few weeks, as Jane became more comfortable, he worried that her boredom would eventually drive her away. Milton wanted her to be content, and if that meant finding her some more friends, Milton would do it.
“Well,” Jane said. She got up from her space at the table and began clearing the lunch plates. “I suppose that I should start planning. I’ll talk with Sara. She’ll be a great help to me.”
“She will,” Milton said. “But I’m sure that you’d do well on your own. I have faith in you.”
Jane gave him a bright smile. “I’m glad. I hope that I’ll be
able to make you proud.”
Milton was sure that she would. Jane was everything a man could hope for in a wife, and though he did not care what the town thought of either of them, he felt a certain pride in knowing that the town would adore her. It gave him the sort of masculine pride that he had never experienced before.
“I’m going to head back to work,” Milton told her.
“Be safe,” Jane told him. It was what she always said to him when he went back to work. It made Milton feel good. He still lived for work. Running the ranch was why he got out of bed in the morning. At least it used to be. These days, Milton looked forward to coming home. He had someone there waiting for him. And if he were honest with himself, he enjoyed seeing her as well.
***
“Jane and I are throwing a dinner,” Milton said to Hank.
Hank raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“I thought it would be nice for Jane to meet some of the other ranchers and their wives. She hasn’t expressed interest in going into town, but she might if she had some female companions.”
Hank snorted. “Sara said she invited her to run errands, but Jane was more interested in taking care of the pigs.”
Milton tried not to laugh. He could imagine Sara’s incredulousness over that. Sara loved going into town. Though she never complained, both Hank and Milton knew that she missed living in the center of town. She and Hank lived in a small house on the property, and though they were not too far from town, it was far enough that Sara couldn’t go every day.
“Jane enjoys working,” Milton said. Though he did not think she needed to work, he understood the desire.
“So, what makes you think that she will enjoy throwing a dinner party?” Hank asked.
“Jane likes taking care of people. She only desires to work so much because she’s bored. She told me as much, and while I don’t mind her taking care of the horses, I don’t think she needs to learn how to herd cattle.”
Hank laughed. “I agree,” he said. “I have a strong-willed wife, but I don’t think Sara’s quite cut out for that kind of work.”
Milton said nothing. He couldn’t imagine Sara herding cattle. She was indeed strong-willed, and she could box any of their ears as if they were small children, but Sara was also not the type of woman who would be interested in hard labor. She’d grown up in town. Her father was a lawyer, so she had not been on a ranch until she married Hank.
“Jane grew up on a ranch,” Milton said. “She’s used to the work.”
“Her Pa allowed her to herd?”
Milton snorted and shook his head. “No,” he said, “but it sounded like he allowed her to do a great deal of work.”
Hank said nothing, but he did release a low whistle. It wasn’t uncommon for daughters and wives to help out with small things on the land, but generally, ranch work in Denver was for men.
“Are you coming to the party or not?” Milton asked Hank.
Hank let out a boisterous laugh. “We will be there,” he said. “I would never miss seeing you throw a party in your own home. I don’t think you’ve had anyone over since I’ve been here.”
Milton said nothing. He continued with his work. He was sure that the party was going to be successful.
Jane is much more personable than I am, he thought. I can’t imagine anyone in the town not liking her. But Milton had an odd feeling in his stomach. Almost like things would start crashing down around them. He couldn’t explain it, but he worried that his life was starting to become too good to be true.
Stop being paranoid, he thought. Everything will be fine. He had no reason to think otherwise.
Chapter Eleven
Jane was nervous. It seemed to be the theme of life these days. The moment she began to feel comfortable on the ranch, something new popped up. Tonight, she was going to be hosting the ranch’s first ever dinner party. Milton had neglected to tell her that he had never thrown a party before. Jane wasn’t surprised. Milton was not an incredibly sociable man. He barely tolerated Hank, who was one of his closest friends.
“Do you think I made enough food?” Jane asked nervously. Sara was helping her, for which Jane was eternally grateful. She did not think she would have been able to prepare for the party in time without Sara’s help. Milton was useless in the kitchen.
“I think you could feed the entire town, and the one next to us as well,” Sara teased.
Jane said nothing. She had changed her dress, and she was trying her best to ensure that the food was done without destroying her clothing. She had worn one of her best dresses. It was a pale, almost white blue. Lace trimmed the top, and she had embroidered the front. It was a secondhand dress that Kate had decided did not fit her coloring. Jane loved it, however. It was one of her favorites, and it made her feel lovely. The dress provided her with the confidence that she needed. She did not want to embarrass Milton.
“I just want everything to be perfect,” Jane said, as she tested the inside of a loaf of bread she had just finished baking. She suspected that people would be arriving soon, and she was worried that it would be too warm to serve.
“Don’t worry,” Sara said. She came close to Jane, placing her arms on her shoulders. “Everyone will adore you. They are already intrigued.”
“Why is that?” Jane asked, as she mixed the stew that she was cooking. The weather was starting to turn cooler, and she wanted something that was hearty and filling for her guests. Looking around, she was starting to think she might have made too much.
What if they think I’m a glutton? she worried. She’d made stew. There were three types of savory pies, several loaves of bread, and three fruit pies. The ranch had a small garden that yielded plenty of fruits and vegetables for the house. Jane had taken to pickling some for the winter, but she thought she’d use the rest for tonight. Now, she worried such a show might turn people off.
“Milton is well-known for shunning all the ladies of Denver. I’m sure that there are those who thought that he would never marry,” Sara said with a laugh.
Jane raised an eyebrow. “If Milton had so many ladies, why did he use a marriage agency to find a wife?” She couldn’t help the hint of jealousy that colored her voice.
Milton wasn’t always the easiest man to get along with, but Jane was finding that it didn’t matter so much. He was kind to her, and he always did his best to take care of her. She couldn’t ask for a better husband.
Though maybe I would have wanted one who didn’t ask me to throw parties, Jane thought as she wrung her hands. Her heart pounded in her chest as the time for guests to arrive drew nearer.
“Milton wanted a wife who would bring him solace, not spend all of his hard-earned money and flirt about town,” Sara said. “He wanted someone to help him run the ranch.”
I doubt that Milton wants a woman to help him run the ranch, Jane thought to herself. Milton allowed her to care for the animals and the small garden, but he did not allow her any work outside of that. It was fine by Jane, but she worried that at some point Milton would realize that she was not the type of wife he wanted.
“Stop worrying,” Sara said.
“I’m not worried,” Jane told her. She tilted her head up and smoothed a stray curl behind her ear. Her curly red hair had been smoothed back into a low bun. The style accentuated the heart shaped features of her face, but it had taken forever to slick back, and she was sure that the heat of the kitchen and her nerves were going to ruin it.
“Milton might not say it, but he adores having you here,” Sara said.
“I think Milton enjoys the company,” Jane said. Milton had said that he had been without family for some time. His father died several years ago, and from what she could gather his mother was gone sometime before that. Though her family had its problems, she was grateful that she had not been alone for so long.
“I think you may be right,” Sara whispered as Milton and Hank entered the kitchen. Jane smiled. Milton had cleaned up, and he looked absolutely dashing. He was dressed in light gr
ay pants, a crisp white shirt, with a gray vest overtop. He’d even put on a cravat which was incredibly blue.
“You look lovely,” Milton said.
Jane blushed. Milton seemed to always compliment her. It wasn’t something that she was used to, but she did appreciate it. It made her feel cherished. No one had ever told her she was beautiful before Milton.
“Thank you,” she said. “You look very handsome yourself.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Hank said, his voice booming. “I feel ridiculous.” He pulled at his own cravat as Jane tried to hide her smile. Hank always made her laugh.
“Stop fidgeting,” Sara said, slapping his hand away. “This is a nice party.”
