by Linda Ford
Carly patted his arm, sending a bolus of warmth to his heart. He couldn’t decide if there was something about her touch that did that or if he had something wrong with him.
“You might discover you have more to offer than you think.”
The idea flared for the space of two seconds and then flickered out.
Her eyes sparkled as if she’d read his mind. “You might have a lot of surprises ahead of you.”
Again the idea flared with hope. He didn’t completely succeed in dowsing it. “Not too many, I hope, and none bad.”
She tossed her head, making her wheat-blond braid flip back and forth. “You’ll have to be the judge of that. Now, if we aren’t all going to starve to death, I best go make supper, though I can’t say how close to starving you’ll feel after you eat my meal.”
He followed her from the barn. Jill shinnied down the ladder and fell in behind them. “Are you warning me again that your cooking might not be real good?” he asked.
“You’ll have to see for yourself.” She laughed, a merry sound that held more than a note of teasing…or was it warning?
“It can’t be worse than my cooking.” He couldn’t keep resignation from his voice.
“Or could it?” She laughed again.
He glanced back at Jill and saw the concern in her face, though she masked it as soon as she realized he looked her way. “We’ll survive, won’t we, Jill?”
She answered with a scowl.
They reached the house and Carly hurried into the pantry, returned with a basin and gave him instruction to bring potatoes from the root cellar. Jill followed him.
Jill sank to the ground by the entranceway. “I might not like this place.”
He couldn’t say if she meant the root cellar or the Morrison Ranch but he decided it was the latter. He filled the basin with last year’s potatoes, still firm from good storage. “Doesn’t appear either of them is mean. That’s a good thing.” He considered all he’d observed. “Carly likes to laugh a lot.”
“Her pa is funny.”
“But nice.”
“I guess.”
They returned to the house with the potatoes. He sniffed. Something smelled mighty good but he wasn’t getting his hopes up. Though he was mightily tempted to open the oven and see what it held.
Carly took the potatoes and soon had them peeled and boiling. “It will be a few minutes. Why don’t you two bring in your things and get settled?”
He eyed her for a moment. Was she trying to get rid of them? But for what reason? With a start, he realized he’d immediately jumped to thinking of long-term leave-taking. But hadn’t they agreed she needed him and Jill needed her?
Jill only? a little voice questioned.
He refused to dignify it with an answer.
Carly smiled and nodded, tipped her head toward the door to encourage his cooperation.
There seemed little reason to disagree. “All right.” He and Jill tromped to the barn and he took his saddlebags and the carpetbag that held her few belongings. He’d thought about buying her more clothes but had decided her cousin was better suited for the task.
Which brought to mind her present outfit. He had to try to convince her to dress like a young lady and he faced her. “Jill, I don’t think your ma would want you to dress like a boy.”
Jill stuck out her bottom lip and glowered at him. “Ma’s dead so she don’t care.”
“Don’t you want to do what would please her?”
“I don’t care anymore. Besides, Carly dresses like a man. And you married her.”
“True.” But she’d worn a dress when he married her.
“Just ’cause she wears pants, you don’t like her?”
Well, put that way, it did seem a little unreasonable. “I guess I don’t care what she wears.” Her mode of dress had not been part of their agreement. Of course, he had no idea at the time.
“Then you can’t care what I wear.”
He sighed deeply and with a great deal of frustration. Were all females so argumentative? So adept at twisting what a fellow said? But rather than be upset at the notion, he realized he felt like smiling. Having someone other than Jill challenge him might be amusing.
They returned to the house. Carly stood at the stove, her back to the room. If he wasn’t mistaken, she grinned rather widely and hummed a little tune.
Seems she was enjoying herself just a bit too much.
Well, he’d signed up for this marriage and neither her dressing like a man nor cooking like an old cowboy was going to make him change his mind.
Besides, how bad could her cooking be?
Chapter Seven
Carly had never had so much fun preparing a meal. She could barely contain her amusement as Sawyer passed through the kitchen, his mouth set in determination. Seems he was prepared to make the best of it no matter how bad her cooking turned out to be.
She’d really had to hustle to get the pork chops browned and in the oven stewing in gravy while he went out for the potatoes. Then she mixed up biscuits and got them in the oven while he attended to getting his room organized. Everything was ready. She couldn’t wait for him to see what she’d made for their meal.
Before she called them, she put the bowls of food on the table. Everything looked perfect. Mounds of creamy mashed potatoes, tender pork chops in rich brown gravy and fluffy golden-brown biscuits. She’d heated a jar of beans from last summer.
“Come and get it,” she called. If Father wondered why she grinned so widely, he didn’t ask but he watched everyone with keen interest.
She indicated Sawyer should sit on her right, Jill on her left. Father sat across the table as usual.
As Sawyer took his place, he looked at the food on the table and his eyes widened. “You did this?”
She forced herself to stop smiling and nodded.
“It looks good. Smells good.”
“Proof is in the tasting. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
“I’ll ask the blessing,” Father said after watching them a moment without comment.
Carly was a tad surprised Father kept his opinion to himself. She held Sawyer’s gaze until the last second before she bowed her head.
At Father’s amen, she passed the potatoes to him and then Jill. Sawyer took a moderate amount, less even than Jill.
The rest of the food was passed from hand to hand and then Sawyer took up his fork.
Carly grinned at him. “Father and I are still alive, so you must know my cooking won’t kill you.”
He scooped up a forkful and lifted it to his mouth. His eyes widened and he sighed. “You have been teasing me. You’re an excellent cook.”
“Aye, she is that.” Father gave her a scolding look. “Did ye lead the poor man to think otherwise?” He shook his head at her acknowledging shrug. “And yet he still entered into this arrangement of yours. Brave man he is.”
Brave or desperate? Seems they were both a bit of each.
Both Jill and Sawyer ate with much enthusiasm. And then she brought out the chocolate cake she had baked the day before.
Jill edged forward, her eyes wide. “I love chocolate cake.” Her expression went from eager to hard in a flash and she sat back. “My mama made the best chocolate cake.”
Carly shot a quick glance at Sawyer. His hands had grown still. His face revealed nothing…or at least she guessed that’s what he hoped. But she detected a flicker of something in his eyes. Couldn’t say if it was sorrow or frustration. Perhaps both.
She turned back to Jill. “I know mine won’t be as good as your mama’s but you might enjoy a small piece.”
Jill’s gaze went from Carly to the cake. “I guess I could try it.”
Carly cut off a big enough slice that she hoped would satisfy Jill’s desire for a sweet without making her feel disloyal to her mother’s memory. She put the plate holding the cake in front of the child. Jill had her hands stuffed under her thighs and stared at the treat.
Giving the child lots of
time to fight her inner war, Carly served the others.
Sawyer took a bite and closed his eyes. A look of bliss filled his face.
Carly stared. For a man who claimed not to have any feelings left, he surely did know how to express appreciation for her baking.
His eyes opened, as blue-green as the water of a high mountain lake. Their gazes caught and held and she felt something she had never felt before. A connection or perhaps a longing for connection. He turned away and she roped in her foolish thoughts. Their agreement had no room for anything but a work arrangement.
She finished her own piece of cake without looking at any of the others, then pushed back from the table. “I’ll do up the dishes.”
Jill’s cake had disappeared, though she didn’t look at Carly or give any indication if it tasted good or not. Carly knew enough to let the girl hang on to her loyalty to her ma.
Carly scurried from table to cupboard where she had a basin of hot soapy water. She did her best to remember exactly what their agreement entailed. He needed a home for Jill. She needed a man to appease her father’s demands. Nothing more.
“We’ll help,” Sawyer said, carrying a handful of cutlery. He reached past her to drop the items in the wash water. His arm brushed against her. She felt his strength, breathed in the outdoor scent of him and immediately forgot the details of their agreement.
He turned to his little sister. “Jill, you can help, too.”
Jill’s chair scraped back and she made a sound of disagreement.
“It’s not necessary,” Carly murmured, having no desire to get on the bad side of the child.
“I think it is.” Sawyer held a towel out to Jill. “You can dry.”
Carly shifted so she could see them both. They wore identical expressions, jaws set, eyes unblinking. Not so much as a twitch from either of them.
“Well, fine.” Jill stomped over to grab the towel. Carly hurriedly started to wash dishes while Sawyer continued to clear the table.
“’Tis good to see the spirit of cooperation,” Father said.
Carly glanced at him to see if he teased but his dark eyes were full of gentleness and approval.
“’Twill be pleasant to have you finally married and you even got a little girl.”
“She ain’t my ma,” Jill said.
Carly wondered if that might be a blessing but her annoyance at Jill’s rejection lasted only a second. Of course the child wasn’t about to embrace Carly as mother. Carly wasn’t even sure she welcomed the idea. She’d only offered a home in exchange for a wedding certificate.
“Aye, child, one never forgets their mother. Just ask Carly.”
Jill’s attention jerked toward Carly but if Carly thought she saw any sign of understanding, it disappeared so fast she likely only imagined it.
As she turned back to her task, her gaze grazed Sawyer’s. The man met her eyes, his brimming with sympathy, startling her so much she let her wet hands drip at her sides. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Couldn’t think beyond the feeling of having fallen into something warm and fuzzy.
Then he blinked and his face grew impassive.
She turned back to washing dishes. But her mind whirled. She expected him to keep his feelings to himself. After all, he’d said he no longer had them. Just that little glimpse of what lay behind his mask of indifference had the power to leave her dry-mouthed. If he should open his heart up, she didn’t know what she’d do. How she’d be able to handle it.
Stop being so dramatic, she scolded herself.
Easier said than done, she discovered. She emptied the water and put away the last of the dishes. “Thanks for the help.”
Sawyer nodded. “Thanks for being a good cook.”
She promised herself she wouldn’t meet his eyes but couldn’t keep that promise and she looked at him, saw a flicker of humor. Why had she never noticed how handsome he was even unshaven?
Not that it mattered, she firmly informed herself. They each had their expectations of this arrangement and it was strictly business.
She faced the room. Father watched, a twinkle in his eyes as if knowing how uncomfortable she was. Jill plunked down on a chair and stared at the tabletop. Several times she’d studied the child, trying to assess if the lump on her head caused her any problem but she was only guessing that it wasn’t. “Jill, how is your head? Does it hurt?”
Jill drew back and gave Carly an angry look. “Nothing wrong with me.”
Father was immediately concerned. “I saw the lump on your forehead, child. What happened?”
“I fell.”
Carly understood Jill didn’t want Father to know the whole story but he needed to be aware and mindful of the need to watch Jill for a few more hours.
“She ran into the street and got knocked down by some horses.”
“I almost got run over by a wagon.” It seemed that Jill decided if the incident had to be discussed, she would make it as dramatic as possible.
Carly sketched out the details of the accident.
“Ack, child,” Father said. “’Tis a painful thing to get run over. I’m that glad you were spared.”
After a few minutes, that conversation ended.
Sawyer lounged against the cupboard, close enough she felt his presence in every pore.
What was she to do with the rest of the evening? Normally she and Father would read or talk. Or she’d go for a ride…an appealing thought. But she could hardly leave two almost-strangers in the house on their first evening.
As she mulled over possibilities, she heard an approaching wagon and hurried to the window. Not one wagon, but three.
“What is it?” Father asked and Sawyer came to her elbow to look out the window.
“Looks like we have company.” Who would visit them and why?
*
Sawyer welcomed the idea of visitors. Maybe the presence of others would ease the tension vibrating in his veins. He had married Carly solely to get a home for Jill. Not because he wanted anything on his own behalf. He was quite content being a lonely wanderer. He was quite used to spending evenings alone with no one to talk to. But now he faced the necessity of making conversation.
He felt a grin tug at his lips. He’d never enjoyed his own cooking and was prepared to endure Carly’s efforts. He certainly had no objection to learning Carly could cook a fine meal. Best he’d ever had, in fact. He barely managed to stifle a chuckle at the way she had led him to believe otherwise. Gladys never teased like that. She certainly never would perpetrate a trick. There was something strangely appealing about a woman who could pull off such a joke.
Jill had made it plain she didn’t care for the plans he and Carly had but she’d soon learn to appreciate the benefits of a good home. She might already like Mr. Morrison with his Scottish brogue and long white beard. He’d watched her as the older man told stories and had seen something in her expression she would have erased if she guessed he saw…he wasn’t sure what to call it. Perhaps yearning. That was good.
The lead wagon drew close enough for him to recognize its occupants. “Isn’t that the preacher and his wife?” Before Carly could answer, Annie held up a cowbell and rang it.
Carly made a sound of frustration. “I should never had told her how it was for Mother and Father’s wedding.”
Mr. Morrison’s chuckle seemed to come from deep inside him. “You mean the ringing of the bells?”
“Yes, Mother always said it was the happiest sound ever.” She turned to explain to Sawyer. “When they were married, the church bells all rang out. First one church and then another until the whole city rang.” She glanced out the window again. “Annie’s brothers and their wives and children are here as well.” As she spoke, the wagons drew to a halt before the house and the occupants jumped down. He counted at least a dozen people, all ringing cowbells. They circled the house and continued to ring.
“Ye best go out and greet them,” Mr. Morrison said.
Carly faced Sawyer. “What do you want to do?�
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It pleased him immensely that she asked his opinion. “Do I understand that they expect the newlyweds to go out to them?” Newlyweds? The term hardly fit them and yet their friends and neighbors had no way of knowing that.
She shrugged. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to do it.”
Did she want everyone to know the details of their arrangement? Why did it matter what she thought? And yet, strangely it did. He couldn’t explain why, but he wanted to show off the woman he had married even though these were all her friends. “I don’t mind.” He took her hand before he could think better of it and led her outside to stand on the doorstep.
The crowd gathered round and rang the bells until his ears hurt.
Carly laughed. “Enough now.”
At a signal from Annie, the ringing ceased, though it continued in his ears.
Annie rushed forward and hugged her. “I remembered the bells. How you said you hoped someone would ring bells when you were married.”
Carly pulled her hand free of Sawyer’s, leaving him adrift among strangers. She faced the crowd. “Everyone, this is Sawyer Gallagher.”
“Your new husband,” Annie added. “Or have you forgotten?”
“Haven’t had time to remember, let alone forget,” she said.
Although her answer tickled his funny bone that he thought he no longer had, it also brought him back to reality. He’d almost let himself believe she would like to be his wife. Her words reminded him of the terms of their agreement.
She turned back to the house. “Jill, come and meet everyone.”
Jill hesitated a moment, then made her way slowly to Sawyer’s side.
Carly introduced Jill, then began introducing their visitors. “These are all Marshall men, Annie’s brothers.” She went around the group, naming each one.
“Dawson and Isabelle and their daughter, Mattie, who is six years old. Logan and Sadie with their children. Beth, fourteen, Sammy, seven, and Jeannie who is three. Conner and Kate and their baby, Ellie.” Each adult shook Sawyer’s hand, welcomed him and congratulated him on his marriage to Carly. Then they extended a warm welcome to Jill.
