Carolyn Davidson - The Wedding Promise

Her mouth set primly, she awaited his reply, her pride the issue now. If he thought for one minute she was too puny to be of any use, he could just…Just what? Find someone else for the job? When she so desperately needed the security of cash money in her hand and food for the table?

“Well…” He seemed to hesitate, and she urged him silently, her mouth firm, her eyes intent on his, her breath stored tightly in her lungs, as if she feared to release it before he made up his mind.

“It’s not just for me,” he told her. “There’s my brother, too. Plus four ranch hands and Sam. He’s been cookin’ for us, but I doubt he’ll ever be able to put a decent meal together to save his soul. That’s seven men to cook for. The washing is just for me and my brother, but if you wanted to earn more money, I’m sure the men would be happy to get their duds scrubbed out on a regular basis. They like clean clothes come Saturday night, usually.”

Seven men! The image was daunting, but Rachel swallowed her urge to spew the words aloud. She caught her breath, her mind in a whirl. If the ranch house was farther than an hour away, she’d spend much of the day driving the wagon back and forth and never have time to do her own work here.

And then there was the question of the boys.

“Can I bring my brothers along for the day?” she asked, her heart beating rapidly as she bargained.

His shrug was casual. “Don’t know why not They can give you a hand, maybe. Or just pitch in with the barn work.”

She glanced at the shack, where Jay had just appeared in the doorway. “They’ll need to eat, too. If I’m cooking for you, it will be for nine, not just seven.”

“Ten,” he corrected her. “I’ll expect you to share the table with us, Miss Sinclair.” His eyes lit with a glow of triumph and she noted it uneasily.

“How far from here is the house?”

“Better than an hour in a wagon,” he told her. “Little less on horseback.”

“It’ll take me a few minutes to get the boys ready and set things to rights here.” She brushed her hands against the front of her skirt. “I probably should change my clothes too.”

He cleared his throat, looking past her to where Jay stood near the shack. “Why don’t you just plan to stay on at the house, long as you’re going to be working there anyway?”

She blinked, attempting to digest his suggestion. “You want all of us to move to your house?” The thought was beyond her comprehension.

His nod of agreement stunned her. “Reckon that’s what I had in mind, ma’am. Thought you might load up your wagon and follow me back. I’ll give you a hand with your things.”

“Rae, what’cha doin’ up there?” From the shack, Jay’s reedy voice lifted on the still air.

Rachel’s head turned and she looked down at her small brother, dressed in too-short pants and a shirt he hadn’t grown into yet. His dark, stubborn hair stuck up at the crown, ignoring his efforts at the stream to plaster it against his scalp, and one bare foot rubbed against the other as he watched her.

“I’m talking to Mr. McPherson, Jay. I’ll be right there. Go get your brother out of bed.” Her words carried easily to where the child stood and he nodded agreeably as he turned back to the shack.

“You’ll go with me?” Cord asked, and she cast him a knowing glance.

“Look around you, Mr. McPherson. If you were trying to tend two boys and keep them fed and clean and had to worry about where you were going to land once you set out from here, would you turn down an offer like the one you just made me?”

He nodded, his lips parting in a smile of approval. “I see what you mean. I think you’re a smart lady, to tell the truth. Workin’ for me will give you time to figure out what you want to do next.” He grasped his horse’s reins and walked ahead of her, down the rise and across the grassy clearing.

Rachel followed in his wake. He sure as the world had it all figured out, didn’t he? Her feet dragged as she considered the man striding down the shallow slope before her.

He was taking an awful lot for granted, organizing their lives this way. Pa’s vision of claiming land farther west was still alive in her soul and if she agreed to stop here, the boys would never see the West their father had dreamed of.

“Mr. McPherson, why don’t we make this a sort of temporary thing, me working for you? Just in case I’m not satisfactory for the job.” She’d managed to halt his progress with that one, and a small sense of triumph buzzed within her as he paused in front of her.

He hesitated, just for a moment, then swung to face her, his eyes alight with an emotion akin to amusement. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll work out just fine, Miss Sinclair. I’ll give you time to learn the ropes, get your feet wet, so to speak.”

He waved expansively at the clearing ahead of them. “If you can make a home here, with nothin’ to do it with, I’ll warrant you can run rings around the help I’ve got in my kitchen now.”

The web he was weaving wrapped around her, its elusive threads beguiling her, and she made one last valiant effort to establish her ground.

“I need money, Mr. McPherson. Not just a place to stay. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll need a stake to get us where we’re going.”

He nodded slowly. “I guess that’s only fair. Why don’t we give it a year’s trial?”

“A year!” Her voice lifted, the words a squeal, and the hard-won dignity she’d managed to don like a Sunday dress fell about her feet, leaving her exposed to his dark gaze.

His nod was emphatic. “A year. You can’t head west in the autumn. Even if there were any supply trains at that time of year, it would be suicide. And any shorter time than that wouldn’t be a fair trial, would it?”

The words sounded reasonable, the way he put it, and she cleared her throat, her mind boggling at the idea of spending a year in the company of this man.

Enough that he was tall and well muscled, his shirt fitting him as if it were tailor-made to cover those broad shoulders. Add to that the very masculine presence he exuded, all tanned and well-put-together, with those dark eyes gleaming as if they knew secrets beyond her comprehension.

He almost frightened her, this benefactor who had given her the choice of eking out an existence on the edge of his property or following him to his home. He seemed kindly enough, but there was about him a power she didn’t understand, as if a magnetic field surrounded him and she was being drawn into its depths.

Now he watched her, with a patience she wouldn’t have credited him with, as if allowing her to choose. When in reality there was no choice. Behind her was Green Rapids and the sufferance of strangers. Ahead, only the uncertainty of the unknown.

And smack in the middle was Cord McPherson.

“All right, but not quite a year. Come spring, March or April, I’ll decide, soon as the first chance to go west comes in sight. I’ll have to have enough money on hand to buy a pair of oxen.”

Tom Clemons had been right, she admitted to herself. Horses weren’t sturdy enough for the rigors of the trail.

She bit at her lip, determined to give the man an honest bargain. “And if it doesn’t work out before then, if you find that I’m not suitable for the job, you’ll let me know,” she offered.

His eyes made a quick survey of her, his broad hands spread wide against his hipbones, the reins trailing from between his fingers as his horse waited patiently.

“All right.” He nodded finally, his gaze dark, his eyes holding a subdued excitement. “If you can’t make the grade, I’ll let you know.” His mouth twisted into a shadow of a grin, as if he would not allow any levity to dilute the serious aspects of their agreement.