Lynda Trent - The Rancher's Wife

“I’m going back to work if you don’t need me no more.” He looked at Brice as if he was going whether he was needed or not.

“Go ahead. I’ll be out as soon as I get Mrs. Parkins settled in.”

Cal nodded as he grabbed his hat and left without a word to Elizabeth.

“He’s talkative today,” Brice commented when they were alone. “I’ve spent days on the trail with him and not heard him say a word. Mary Kate is a good influence. I guess.”

“What do you know about him? He looks as if he chews bullets as a pastime.”

Brice laughed “Cal is a mystery. He has no past, no family, no ties to any place or thing. He owns only his clothes, a horse and tack. He was a drifter, and for some reason decided to settle here.”

“You don’t know anything about his past? How do you know he isn’t wanted somewhere by the law?” She couldn’t get over the foreman’s rough appearance, in spite of the gentleness he had shown with the baby.

“That’s not unusual on the frontier. A lot of people make no mention of their pasts and no questions are asked. If they’ve made some mistakes back home, they’ve come west for a new start, and that’s what they’re due.”

“But what if—” she began.

“He won’t answer any questions, so you may as well not ask him. All I know is he’s reliable and smarter than he seems. He’s pulled me through some tough times. No, don’t worry about Cal. He won’t do you any harm. More than likely he’ll ignore you altogether. That’s how he treated Celia. She never liked him but she got used to him.”

“It’s really none of my business.” She hugged the baby. “What do you feed her?”

He took her back outside to the spring house that straddled a small brook not far from the rear of the house. Elizabeth wrapped the baby beneath her wool cape as she followed him. “The cows give milk but it’s too rich for her. Consuela and I experimented until we hit upon a combination of milk and water that doesn’t upset Mary Kate’s stomach. That’s it in the crock there.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Her bottles are lined along that wall.” Brice indicated a shelf of empty whiskey bottles that had been fitted with rubber nipples. “Consuela found it easier to fill them out here than to carry the crock to the house, fill one and bring it back to the spring house.”

“This time of year I can’t see much need to keep them here. The back porch should be cool enough in the shade.”

Brice nodded. “I think so, too.” He gave her a searching look. “I’m glad you’ve come. I can’t manage all of it on my own. Not and keep the ranch running.” His voice was soft and sincere.

Elizabeth drew her cape closer around the baby. “I’ll have no trouble doing these things. We’ll get along just fine.” Mary Kate lifted her head and studied Elizabeth closely, her tiny brows furrowed in infant thoughtfulness. Elizabeth found herself smiling.

Brice was watching her. “You have a pretty smile.”

At once it disappeared. Elizabeth wasn’t used to compliments. She stepped out of the spring house and started across the gentle slope to the house.

“Did I upset you? I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You look upset.”

“Well, I’m not.” She refused to look at him, even when he held the back door open for her.

“Come upstairs. I’ll show you to your room and Mary Kate’s.” He picked up her bundle from where he had left it in the kitchen and led her through the house and up the stairs.

Elizabeth was glad to follow him. This way she could look at him without being seen. His compliment had left her feeling uncomfortable. He was newly widowed. He had no business complimenting a woman. He was still in deep mourning, even if he wasn’t wearing black. And for that matter, why wasn’t he? In Elizabeth’s opinion, no recently bereaved man should be able to smile, let alone to smile in a way that made her world rock. She had been alone too much. That had to be it.

Brice indicated the first door in the upstairs hall. “This is my room. If you ever need me in the middle of the night, all you have to do is call out.”

“Why would I need you in the middle of the night?” she asked suspiciously.

“In case the baby gets sick.”

“Of course.” She felt her cheeks warming and hoped he didn’t notice.

“Your room is here.” He opened the door to the bedroom that adjoined his own. “In the summer you can leave the veranda door open and the room will be cooler. There’s always a breeze here in the summer. We share the veranda, but you can trust me to respect your privacy. As you’ll notice the door between the rooms has been blocked shut by Celia’s armoire.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He looked around at the room as if he were deep in thought “This was Celia’s room. During her pregnancy she was ill quite often and preferred to sleep alone. But even before that she had taken this room for her own. It was the way she wanted it.”

Elizabeth gazed around the room. That explained why the wallpaper was sprigged with roses and violets and why the curtains were lace. Not one item in the room was masculine.

“This is rather delicate, but I don’t know of any other way to say it,” he began awkwardly. “Celia’s clothes are still here. I didn’t know what to do with them, and they didn’t fit Consuela. If you’d like them, you’re welcome to them. I think you’re about the same size. Otherwise, I guess I’ll have to burn them.”

“It would be a waste to burn clothing!” Elizabeth exclaimed. All the years of her marriage, she had seldom owned more than two extra dresses. The thought of burning a garment was unacceptable. Cloth was too difficult to acquire. Dresses weren’t simple to make. “I can make them over if they don’t fit. But won’t they be unpleasant reminders to you? I don’t want to offend you.”

“No, I would rather someone get some use out of them. She had some she never even wore.” He stepped back into the hall. “You can have anything in the room.” He went across the hall to a room painted in a shade of pale rose. “This is Mary Kate’s nursery.”

There was no need for him to have pointed that out. It was obvious that someone had spent hours making baby blankets, gowns and bonnets. Crib-sized quilts lay folded at the end of the baby’s bed. It didn’t escape Elizabeth that pink was the predominant color. If Mary Kate had been a boy, several baby things Celia had made would have been too feminine for his use.

As if Brice were following her thoughts, he said, “Celia’s mother sent all these things. As you can see, she was determined that the baby would be a girl. I don’t think she has much use for males. Celia came from a house full of sisters and two maiden aunts, in addition to her parents. The absence of women out here was very disturbing to her.”

“I see.”

“I had hoped she would become friends with you.”

“I hoped so, too.”

“You can change anything you like in the nursery or your room. All I ask is that you leave mine alone.”

“I’ll only go in there to clean.”

Their eyes met, and Elizabeth was aware of the intimacy of their surroundings. She stood there holding his child and speaking of his bedroom in the most ordinary of tones. She had to look away. She wasn’t entirely sure she could trust him not to take advantage of her.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asked.

“No,” she said a bit too quickly. “Why would you wonder such a thing?”

“Maybe it’s because you make me nervous as hell.” He turned and left the room without further explanation.

She stared after him.

Chapter Three

Brice tugged at the leather strap he was threading into the buggy harness. The air in the barn was still and colder than the air outside but he didn’t mind. He could use some cooling off.