She stopped at the law office and picked up another packet of papers for transcribing. She wasn't looking forward to going home to an empty house, but at least she would have something to keep her occupied through the lonely evening hours. Nothing in Jason's notes had said anything about the school board's decision regarding a new school, so she assumed she didn't have to pack and leave just yet. Knowing the board, it would take them the length of the summer to decide.
She considered stopping at the little restaurant beside the hotel and just ordering up a meal rather than eating alone, but that would cut into her finances, and she wasn't pleased about sitting at a table by herself in what was usually a room full of men. Maybe she could make do with some leftover biscuits and jam.
When she rode up to the house, she was startled to notice a stack of lumber piled in the school yard. Her spirits soared instantly. They were going to rebuild! Bless Jason. He might be a blind, thick-headed numskull at times, but his heart was in the right place whenever he could find it. She would have to sew him a new vest for his birthday. She was tired of that stained leather one.
She hadn't realized how worried she had been until her spirits soared at the sight of that lumber. She couldn't have felt better if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She'd had horrifying visions of Betsy returning and finding her living in the streets. Rental houses weren't readily available out here, even if she could afford one.
That called for a celebration. Maybe she would light up the stove after all. She would make a pie that would last her all week. Pies might not be real nutritious, but they kept well. She couldn't afford an icebox and didn't have a spring house. If she wanted to eat a proper meal, she should have stopped at the greengrocer's and the butcher's before coming home, and she hadn't. But she had some dried apples that would work just fine in a pie.
She had the stove heating and was humming to herself as she rolled out the crust when a knock at the door intruded. Frowning, she tried to clean off her hands on her apron before answering it. With school out, she didn't have much company from students or parents. Maybe Ellen needed something.
Opening the door to find Mulloney standing on the other side caused her to step back, speechless.
She had managed to push him out of her mind all day. She hadn't expected a powerful rich man like Peter Aloysius Mulloney to hang around long. She'd wasted her time trying to help him. He'd have lawyers from all over the country down here by daybreak if he was in trouble. She could just pretend that he didn't exist as long as she didn't have to look at him.
But she was looking at him now. He'd certainly made some major improvements since the morning. His beard was shaven to reveal a strong jaw with a cleft in the middle, and a mouth that didn't look like it turned up at the corners much. She remembered the humorless green eyes quite well and didn't need to meet them as she glanced over his shoulder for some explanation of his appearance.
"Miss Harrison?" He doffed his gray felt hat with the silver shells on the band. He'd changed into a clean white shirt and khakis and had obviously bathed, but Janice wasn't impressed. She started to close the door.
He shoved his foot inside. "Sheriff said you'd be recompensed for providing my meals while I'm working off my debt to society."
She stared. She wasn't certain she heard this right. Peter Mulloney was standing on her doorstep, asking for a prisoner's meal? The Peter Mulloney? He could have bought the restaurant and ordered them to make roast duck if he liked. She shook her head, certain that she had heard wrong.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Mulloney. What do you want?"
"Supper," he said succinctly. "I'm starved. I had beef jerky for lunch since you weren't here, but I could eat the wood off that table right now."
She did have an arrangement with the sheriff to fix meals for prisoners on a rotating basis with some of the other women in town. And this man had been a prisoner this morning. She just didn't think prisoners usually arrived at the door, hat in hand.
"You don't look like a prisoner to me, Mr. Mulloney," she reminded him, just in case he'd forgotten.
There was a suspicion of a curl to the corner of his lip. He looked her up and down in a blatantly sexual way that made Janice want to take her rolling pin to his noggin. "And you don't look like much of a cook to me, Miss Harrison. I'm just taking the sheriff's word for it. You want to talk to him?"
"I'll do more than talk to him. Nobody warned me about this arrangement. There's not a thing in the house to eat but apple pie, and that's not ready yet."
He had thick dark eyebrows that formed upside-down V's when he raised them. "You're planning on eating apple pie for supper?"
"That isn't any of your business. Since you're wandering around loose, why don't you wander down and ask the sheriff to come back here and verify your story? He'd better bring around the makings of dinner while he's at it." This time, she pushed the door so hard, he had to hastily move his foot before she crushed it.
Then she braced herself against the door and listened to the sound of his boots walking away. Peter Mulloney, a man richer than Croesus, begging at her door. She must be hallucinating. She had been working too hard and the loneliness was preying on her mind.
God might make miracles, but He didn't send gifts like that to her doorstep.
Chapter 6
Janice turned the beefsteak over in the frying pan and leaned over to check the biscuits in the oven. Her stomach felt tighter than a bowstring, and claws of something irrational ripped at her insides. She had ordered Peter Aloysius Mulloney to stay out of her house while she cooked, but the knowledge that he was outside her door kept her off balance.
She'd heard him washing up at the pump earlier. She had sneaked a peek through the curtains sometime later and seen him pacing off the charred area of the schoolhouse. The sheriff had assured her that Mulloney would rebuild the schoolhouse for her. She ought to be relieved and grateful.
Instead, she was walking on hot coals. He didn't know who she was. There was no reason in the world that one of the grand and mighty Mulloneys would recognize one of his many impoverished and ill-treated tenants. Not that she had even lived in Cutlerville these last five years for him to recognize.
But she recognized Mulloney, all right. She could remember what he and his fiancée had looked like in his polished carriage behind those matched bay horses. They had been the epitome of everything she could never have.
It hadn't broken her heart any when Daniel had come along and not only overthrown the heir apparent, but stolen his fiancée too. Evie had once tried to explain how Daniel with his crippled leg and uncertain parentage had been cast out of the Mulloney family at birth, but Janice had just scored one more point against the wealthy, greedy Mulloneys. Daniel was her friend. She had cheered with the rest of the town when he'd taken over Mulloney Enterprises. She had never given a single thought to the brother whose place he had taken. She'd left Cutlerville too soon after that to hear the details.
She didn't know what Peter had been doing all these years, but she knew Daniel would never disown his brother as his family had once disowned him. So she couldn't fathom why Peter Mulloney didn't hire a fleet of carpenters to rebuild the school if that was what he had in mind. He'd announced his name to all and sundry, so he wasn't traveling incognito. Why was the fabulously wealthy Peter Mulloney sleeping on the ground in filthy clothes not fit for a beggar?
The puzzle worried at her mind, but not as much as the thought of the man himself. The sheriff had said she would have to work with Mulloney to see the school rebuilt properly. She didn't know if she could stay in the same room with the man without killing him. Those years in Mulloney tenant houses had been pure hell. She'd like to return the favor sometime.
But she had learned to hide her feelings long ago. When supper was cooked, she called to the man kicking idly at a fallen timber. Standing with hands in pockets, silhouetted against the setting sun, he looked more lonely drifter than fancy financier. Janice didn't let her i
magination take hold. She kept her face stiff as he hurried toward the house.
Mulloney ate like a starving man, but a polite starving man. He waited for Janice to sit before taking his place al the table. He knew how to use his napkin. He cut his meal into small bites and chewed hurriedly, but thoroughly. He didn't forget to compliment his hostess on everything from her cooking to her neat kitchen. She still wanted to kill him.
It took all her willpower to keep from telling him that she knew who he was. Maybe he was planning on skipping town without rebuilding the school, saving himself a lot of money and trouble. That would be like the Mulloneys she knew. She would just hate to telegraph Daniel and tell him what kind of wretch his brother was, but that schoolhouse was her livelihood. She would do whatever she had to do.
"I'll tell you right now, Miss Harrison, I've never built anything larger than a tent before." Peter sat back in his chair, wiping his hands on his napkin. He hadn't eaten anywhere that used napkins in so long he couldn't remember the last time. He savored the lingering taste of the tender steak and looked around hopefully for the apple pie she'd been baking. He hadn't realized how starved he had been until he'd sat down at this table to a selection of fresh vegetables and tender meat. It was plain fare, far plainer than the delicacies he had eaten at home, but he couldn't remember a better meal.
"Then you'll have to rely on Jed to tell you what to do." The schoolteacher stood up and brought the pie out of the pantry.
Peter watched her cut a generous slice and felt his mouth water. He wasn't certain if it was from watching the pie or the teacher. When he'd first appeared at her door this evening, she hadn't been wearing her spectacles, and her hair had been tumbling loose from her chignon, making her look years younger than her present guise. Since then, she had jerked all that golden glory back into a knot and donned her spectacles and an apron three sizes too big for her. He wasn't fooled. Beneath that bulky cloth was a figure he'd die to hold. He could barely keep his eyes on the food for waiting for a glimpse of the real Miss Harrison.
"Does this Jed live here in town?" he asked, trying to keep up the conversation. "I suppose I ought to go over and introduce myself and get some idea of where we need to start."
She set the pie slice in front of him and he caught a whiff of some light scent that made him think of soft skin and smooth sheets. He wondered what it would take to seduce a schoolteacher. From the frozen scowl on her face, he assumed it would take an all-out assault. She no doubt thought him lower than scum. He didn't have much time to prove himself any different.
"Jed lives on the far end of Main Street, in the blue house. He's working on the livery this week, so he's in town."
She sat primly across from him, sampling the tiny sliver of pie she had cut for herself. She hadn't eaten scarcely a bite all evening, Peter realized guiltily. He'd cleaned up everything in sight. He sought for some way past her reserve. She'd taken his earlier compliments without comment. He'd never fancied himself a ladies' man. He'd never had to be. But he wished he had the facile tongue necessary to reach this goddess.
"I'll go over and see him just as soon as I help you with these dishes, Miss Harrison. This has got to be the best meal I've ever eaten."
She scowled at him as if he had told her the meat stunk. Did she hate all men or just him?
"I can clean up, Mr. Mulloney. The schoolhouse is a good deal more important."
She stood up and began cleaning off the table, deliberately turning her back on him when he rose with her. Peter carried his dishes to the dry sink and poured hot water from the stove into the basin. She went outside to fetch cold water from the pump as if he weren't there.
When he picked up the towel and started to dry the dishes she set aside to drain, she grabbed the linen and glared at him.
"Go see Jed, Mr. Mulloney. My duty is to feed the prisoners, not keep company with them."
Not an ounce of emotion touched his face as he handed her the plate and the towel. "You're quite right, Miss Harrison. Thank you for dinner. I'll see you in the morning."
He strode off without looking back. Janice watched him go with an increasing knot of indecision in her stomach. Her mind was telling her one thing and her conscience quite another. Peter Mulloney was a gentleman to the bone, even if he was a greedy bastard. A man like that could provide the best doctors for Betsy. He could ensure her daughter a life of ease so that she would never have to marry or bear the burden of grief and poverty her mother had known. For Betsy, Janice would do almost anything.
Could she set aside her hatred and pretend to respond to the blatant loneliness in Peter Mulloney's eyes to ensure her daughter's happiness?
He made it so easy for her. He showed up early the next morning, clean-shaven, hat in hand, his hair still slightly wet from washing. He didn't smile, but he complimented Janice on how fine she looked, then looked as if he had been handed heaven when she set scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him. A hungry man couldn't be wary when filling his stomach. Janice poured fresh coffee and sat down across from him.
There wasn't anything tender or soft in Peter Mulloney's face as he sipped at the coffee, but Janice had seen the desperation behind men's eyes often enough to recognize it. She didn't know what had caused it in this man. She knew nothing of the feminine wiles necessary to wheedle the knowledge out of him. She only knew what loneliness and hunger could do to a person. Reluctantly and with great caution, she plied that knowledge now.
"You eat as if you haven't seen food in a week," she murmured, pouring him a second cup of coffee.
"Longer than that, truth be told." He neatly scraped his plate clean with his fork and didn't protest when she brought him more toast and jam. "Beef jerky and train fare can't be called eating."
"Train fare? Have you traveled far to get here?"
He sat back and sipped at his coffee now that his stomach was full. He still didn't smile, but Janice could feel his appraising look. She had left her spectacles off this morning. She only needed them for reading, but they added years to her age and made an excellent preventative against unwarranted attention. For the first time in her life, she was attempting to attract a man's interest. She shuddered inwardly at the thought, but kept Betsy's pale face and sweet smile uppermost in her mind.
"I've just come in from New Mexico," he answered. "And rode up here from the station at Fort Worth.'
Janice nodded and rose to clear the table. Her stomach was so tense she feared she would have to throw up what little food she had eaten. She wasn't any good at this sort of thing. She despised this man. How was she going to catch and hold his interest without making a fool of herself?
"I understand you wanted to see Jason. Did you have a chance to talk with him before he left for Houston?"
"Only long enough to know I'd better get this school built before he gets back." Peter got up and helped her clear the table, although what he really wanted to do was sit here for the rest of the morning, sipping coffee and watching the odd shadows flit across the teacher's face She had a soft voice that he suspected could carry a note of authority when she wanted. He'd heard a hint or two of that last night. He wondered what had changed her mind about him since then that she actually condescended to speak to him.
"Everybody around here pretty much lets Jason have his way. He and his brother own the biggest ranch in these parts as well as the town bank. They're fair men but it doesn't pay to get on their wrong side."
Peter picked up the towel and started to dry the dishes that she was washing. This time, she didn't stop him. "I kind of got that figured. I'm needing to talk to them about some business, so I'll try to stay on their good side."
She nodded and handed him a cup. "I didn't think you were the one to set that fire. You worked too hard to stop it. I tried to tell them that, but I'm only a woman."
Peter heard echoes of his past in that last statement. How many times had Georgie, his ex-fiancée, told him he wouldn't listen to her because she was "only a woman"? How many times had
he actually ignored women because he though them frivolous? For the most part, they were, he supposed.
But over these last years, he'd met one or two who had taught him how to survive. He didn't think this fragile-looking schoolmarm could teach him anything about surviving, but he didn't intend to ignore her either. He had decided he needed a woman, and she was very definitely all woman.
"Women have been the cause of wars. It's not smart to ignore them," he surprised himself by saying. Georgie would choke and swallow an apple whole to hear him say that. He ought to gag on the statement himself, but he continued to dry her dishes.
She sent him a telling glance that said she wasn't fooled. "You'd better go get Jed and the others to start hauling off that debris, Mr. Mulloney. I'm perfectly capable of finishing up here."
Well, he should have figured a schoolteacher wasn't stupid. He had just hoped an old maid might be easily persuaded. Now that he thought about it, it was a trifle odd that a woman as lovely as this one hadn't been snatched up long before. He would have to be a little more cautious in his seduction. Peter set down the cup and returned the towel to the rack.
"Will you be here for lunch?" he asked.
"I'm working over at the newspaper this morning. I'll come home around noon to fix something cold. If you're still working, I'll leave it out for you."
Peter nodded and walked out, but he was already counting the hours to noon. His stomach was full, so it wasn't the thought of a meal that kept him going. It was the flicker of something almost flirtatious in the schoolmarm's eyes—rusted from disuse perhaps, but still flirtatious. He'd had enough women look at him that way to know what it meant. He almost managed a smile as he started in to town.
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