Authors: Penny Richards
“That's almost five months away, but Susanna's expecting about that time, so I'll need some help.” He questioned her with a hopeful look.
“Of course.” The words came out before Marybeth could stop them. But then, she would enjoy helping a friend throw a party. A little baking, planning a few games, handmade decorations, maybe a gift exchange. “I'd love to.”
His grateful grin stirred agreeable feelings that were becoming all too familiar. Only by forcing her thoughts to Jimmy could she keep her mind in charge of her heart. More or less.
“Would you like to see the property?” His face exuded familial pride.
“Very much.” She might as well look around at what she was giving up by not marrying him.
Rand took her by the hand and led her out the front door to the wide, covered porch. To the west, the San Juan Mountains stood out starkly against a rich blue sky on this bright, cloudless day. She could envision watching glorious sunsets from the nearby rocking chairs, a restful end to a hard day of work.
He took her down the front steps onto the neatly trimmed green lawn spreading beneath the shade of four elm trees. Everything seemed to be in full bloom, including the flower beds at every corner of the large house. Marybeth inhaled a deep breath, enjoying the clean, fresh scent of country living.
“It's so beautiful, Rand.”
He beamed at her praise. “We like it.”
Northam land stretched as far as the eye could see to the north, south and east. Beyond the fence bordering the house's front lawn lay a vast field of lush uncut green grass waving in the late summer breeze.
“I never imagined the place would be this big.” Marybeth could scarcely take it all in. “What's growing in that field?”
“That's alfalfa hay.” For a moment Rand studied the field with a critical eye. “When it's ready for harvest in another month, we'll winnow it into rows, fork it into wagons and store it in the barn. It'll feed Northam horses and cattle through the winter.”
Rand explained that their drovers would herd the steers to market over the mountains, and the cattle left behind would be brood stock for the next year.
“Come autumn, this is a pretty busy place. While the men take care of the cattle and harvest the hay, the womenfolk harvest their kitchen gardens and preserve the produce. Everybody on the ranch has an important job to do.”
“So much work.” A sliver of understanding opened in Marybeth's mind as she recalled Da's complaints about how hard it had been back home in Ireland to bring sustenance out of the ground. He'd hated being a farmer.
“Yep.” Rand's fond gaze, untouched by any such complaint, took in their surroundings. “But well worth it.” His gaze remained unchanged as he turned to look at her. “It's a good life.”
What did she sense in his look and tone? Pride, with a hint of wistfulness, if that was even possible? Did he hope she would see his home and land with the same deep affection? At a moment like this she was all too close to saying she'd like to be a part of his family's “good life” here on Four Stones Ranch.
Forcing away words that would forever trap her, she considered her options. While she couldn't tell him the whole truth, she could strike a bargain with her conscience. Without telling him of her aversion to marriage, she would make sure he understood why she must postpone making plans for a shared future.
“I can't thank you enough for taking me to Del Norte yesterday.” She looped an arm in his as they walked around the corner of the house toward the back, where an enormous barn dominated the scene. “It will take some time before I can earn enough money to make the trip to Wagon Wheel Gap, but I do have to go there and search for Jimmy.” She offered him an apologetic smile. “Rand, please understand that I can't think of getting married until I find him.” She swallowed hard as sudden tears threatened to undo her. “Or find out what happened to him.”
“I do understand.” He looked ahead, his face stoic, all smiles gone. “And I hope you understand my side of things. If there was any way I could take time off and go there now, I'd do it. But my brothers have been managing the ranch without my help for over a week now, and I've got to do my share.”
“Yes, of course.” Another rush of emotion surged up inside her, choking off the words she wanted to say. Lest he misunderstand her tears, she directed her gaze toward the great barn. “What a large structure. It's almost as big as Boston's Faneuil Hall.” Not really, but still very large.
Rand's doubting frown, peppered with a healthy dose of humor, put an end to Marybeth's tears. “Faneuil Hall, eh? While that's a mighty complimentary comparison, I do think your memory is a bit off. Even after all these years, I remember how huge that place was. Three stories, isn't it?”
“Not to mention the attic and tower.”
“Which, I notice, you
did
mention.” His teasing chuckle dismissed the last of her sadness.
With him being so agreeable, why not just tell him everything? Confess it all and see how he took it. Before she could form the right words, four black-and-white dogs emerged from the barn, yapping and barking, and charged toward them. Terror gripped Marybeth and she grasped Rand's arm, thinking they would dash back to the house.
“Hey, there, you little scalawags.” Instead of sharing her fear of the dog pack, he knelt and let them clamber all over him. They licked his face, nipped at his ears and vied for the best place in his attention.
Now she could see they weren't in the least bit dangerous like the dog packs in Boston, but merely half-grown puppies. While she couldn't fully share Rand's enthusiasm, she did pet one sweet-faced dog that insisted upon including her in the melee.
“Aren't you a cute one?” She had little experience with dogs, but this one seemed to like being scratched behind the ears, much like Mrs. Foster's cat. The puppy wagged its tail and licked her hand and turned around in a circle before coming back for more, tangling itself in her skirt.
“I think you've made a friend.” Rand stood and beckoned to her. “Now that they've inspected us, I think they'll let us into their barn.”
Inside were at least a half dozen cats, maybe more, but it was the dogs that garnered Rand's attention. “Would you like one of them? Maybe as a watchdog?”
She stifled a laugh when she saw his sober frown. “Why would I need a watchdog?”
“Might be nice to have one to bark a warning when somebody comes to call.”
Somebody like Mr. Hardison? She wouldn't ask for fear it would stir up trouble. “Let me ask Mrs. Foster.”
“Good idea.” He picked up the hefty puppy that had been so friendly to her. It seemed a bit more aggressive than the others in demanding attention. “Maybe we'll just take this little gal with us when we go back to town. Once Mrs. Foster sees her, she'll say yes.”
“You don't think that's presumptuous?” Marybeth copied the way Rand scratched the dog's head and received another friendly lick in return. What fun it would be to call it her own.
“Nope. In fact, I'm sure Mrs. Foster will like her.” Rand ruffled the puppy's fur as he set her down. “She can always say no.”
“Is the puppy old enough to leave her mother?”
“Oh, sure. They've been weaned for months. The mother is up in the hills with the cattle, along with her own mother. She and her brothers were our first litter and are old enough to be working dogs now. The men are trying to train them to help with herding.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “One of my father's projects that didn't go as planned. The man he brought over from Europe to train the dogs found out about some gold strikes near Denver. He packed up and took off without a word.” Rand huffed out a sigh of disgust. “Out here a man's word is everything. If there's anything I hate, it's when somebody backs out on an agreement, even when it's just a spoken promise. This man had actually signed a contract but broke it.”
Marybeth managed to maintain an interested expression, but once again all the joy went out of her. Even though Rand didn't know it, she'd broken the agreement she'd made with his parents. Would he actually hate her when she told him the truth? It was no less than she deserved, but somehow she couldn't bear the thought of losing his friendship. To have those piercing green eyes filled with contempt for her rather than kind regard.
But was marriage the only way to keep his good opinion?
* * *
“Miss O'Brien, I am more than pleased with your work.” Mr. Means stood beside Marybeth's desk reading a letter she'd just typewritten for him. As always, his countenance was a pleasant but professional mask. “I will sign it, and you can take it to Mrs. Winsted for posting when you go out for dinner.” He turned away then back again, and she could not miss the warmth in his gaze. “I have been thinking... That is, I was wonderingâ” To her shock, he tugged at his collar and swallowed hard, almost like an awkward young boy. “May I take you to dinner at Williams's Café today?”
During her secretarial training, Marybeth had learned that some employers might attempt to take advantage of their secretaries. She could not think Mr. Means, a church deacon, would do such a thing. Still, as she and her fellow students had been taught, she kept in place a pleasant but professional facade. “Thank you, sir. I usually go home for dinner, and I should do so today so I can make sure Mrs. Foster is managing our new puppy without any difficulties.” A simple ploy and not really necessary. Her landlady had been delighted with the puppy and together they'd named her Polly.
“Ah.” Disappointment clouded his brown eyes. “Forgive me. I did not mean toâ”
In an instant she knew her mistake. He hadn't meant to make an inappropriate offer at all. “Perhaps tomorrow?”
A smile lit his entire face. “Yes. Tomorrow.” He strode away to his office with an almost jaunty gait.
Oh, dear.
The last thing she needed to do was to incite the interest of another man. What would Rand say? Yet Mr. Means was her employer, and she mustn't offend him, either.
At noon, after posting his letter, she hurried out of Winsted's general store to go home for dinner. In her haste, she bumped smack into Mr. Hardison, sending him back a pace or two. He caught her upper arms in a powerful grip and righted her before she could fall to the boardwalk or even cry out.
“There now, Miss O'Brien.” Courteous as always, he bowed and tipped his hat. “You must be in a hurry. May I be of assistance?”
“What? Oh, I mean, I don't believe so. Do forgive me for not watching where I was going.” She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his expensive cologne, and started to move on. To her chagrin, he fell into step beside her.
“If it's not an intrusion, I beg the privilege of escorting you to whatever your destination might be.”
“Please don't bother.” She gave him a quick and, she hoped, dismissive smile.
“No bother at all, dear lady. Esperanza may be a quiet town, but one never knows when outlaws will ride through and stir up trouble.”
“Very well. Thank you.” She prayed Mrs. Foster would not invite him in for dinner. That would be more than she could expect Rand to tolerate, yet if it happened, she would have a hard time keeping it from him.
“Miss O'Brien, please don't think me impertinent, but I would be honored if you would accompany me on an outing this coming Saturday. We could take a picnic out to a scenic spot I've found in the foothills.”
Had he been hiding in the bushes yesterday afternoon when Rand brought her home? He'd invited her to do the very same thing. “Thank you, sir, but I have unchangeable plans for Saturday.” Despite his nice manners, she would
not
offer to go with him another day, as she had with Mr. Means. Juggling two gentlemen was already going to be a challenge she'd never expected or ever hoped to encounter.
At the house Polly lay in a furry ball on the front porch. She perked up as they approached and bounded down the stairs. Last night the little darling had slept on Marybeth's bed, and they'd already formed a sweet bond.
“May I see you to the door?” Mr. Hardison offered his arm just as Polly grabbed his trouser leg in her teeth. “Hey, you mangy mutt. Quit that.”
Instead she tore at the cuff, growling and twisting as if she were tearing at some sort of prey. Just as Mr. Hardison reached down to strike her with a clenched fist, Marybeth snatched the puppy up, heavy as she was, and pretended to scold.
“Why, you silly little doggy. What's got into you? Don't bother the nice man.” The nice man who now wore a dreadful scowl much like Da used to wear when he was in a temper. Marybeth took a deep breath. “Why, Mr. Hardison, she's just a puppy who needs a bit of training.” Or so Rand had told her. “If she damaged your trousers, I will mend them.”
His eyes narrowed and Marybeth stepped back with another deep breath. Would he strike her instead of Polly? Her terror must be obvious, for his expression quickly relaxed. “I'm sure my trousers will need no repair, Miss O'Brien. If they do, the Chinese laundry will mend them.” Now his smile turned oily. “I wouldn't like to see those pretty hands engaged in such labors.” With another tip of his hat, he bowed away. “You and I will have our outing at another time.”
Was there an edge of a threat to his statement? Her throat closed in fear and no words emerged to contradict him. Right now she would like nothing more than to rush into Rand's strong arms for comfort.
Yet back at work, as the afternoon progressed, she convinced herself it wouldn't be wise to further prejudice him against Mr. Hardison. After all, Mr. Means's years of banking gave him more insight into people's characters than a rancher's years of chasing cattle. Her employer spoke of loaning Mr. Hardison the money to start a new business. Just because he had a temper, just because certain of his traits reminded her of Da, that didn't mean Marybeth should be afraid of him. Did it? After all, she had no plans to deepen her acquaintance with the man.