Carolyn Davidson - The Wedding Promise

Rachel wiped her palm against her skirt and offered it in his direction. “Do we have a deal, Mr. McPherson?” she asked firmly, her breath catching in her throat as she realized the enormity of this undertaking.

His lean, callused fingers grasped hers and he held them firmly. “We have a deal, Rachel.”

It took less than an hour to load their pitiful belongings into the wagon, close up the shack and be on their way. Cord harnessed the horses, admiring their plump, sleek lines, due probably to the lush grasses of his valley, he surmised with a subdued grin.

He worked rapidly, leading the team to the cabin door, where Rachel waited beside an assortment of crates and boxes. In moments, he had the wagon in place, the reins tied to a low branch of the nearest tree, lest the horses take it in their heads to return to the rich pastureland on the other side of the stream.

“How long you been here?” he asked, satisfied finally that the team was secure.

“A few weeks.” She lifted a box he deemed beyond her strength and he took it from her, their hands brushing as he eased it from her arms.

“I can get it!” Her pride glittered from blue eyes that scorned his aid.

He nodded. “I imagine you can, but there’s no need.”

She turned away, bending to lift one end of a trunk the boys were struggling to shove through the doorway. And then as she stood erect, he was there once more, close behind her.

His big hands gripped her waist and he spoke gruffly against the dark braid she’d coiled on top of her head.

“Stand back, Rachel. I’ll tend to this. The boys can help me.”

She shivered in his grasp and he heard her indrawn breath. “I’m stronger than you think,” she told him, her voice containing a faint breathlessness. And then she lowered the trunk, stepping away to retreat toward the waiting wagon.

“I’ve not underestimated you, Rachel,” he said, lifting one end of the trunk with ease. He waited till her brothers passed the doorway, then, lifting the bulk of the weight, he helped them ease their burden into the wagon.

She watched him warily and her hesitant air amused him. He had her on the run, off balance and acquiescent. Just as he’d hoped, she was going along with his plan. Now if he could keep her moving, he’d have the thing accomplished before she caught her breath.

“This won’t take long.” With a hand on each of their heads, Cord turned the two boys back toward the shack.

Willingly, they followed his lead and in minutes, the motley assortment of boxes and crates had been loaded. Her mother’s rocker and feather ticks, along with her hand-carved dresser, topped the load. Their faces alight with admiration, Jay and Henry watched as the pile was secured with a rope taken from Cord’s saddle.

“That didn’t take any time, did it, Rae?” Jay’s enthusiasm was evident, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he launched himself over the tailgate.

She shook her head, scraping up a smile for the small boy’s benefit. “No, you were a big help, Jay.”

“You want to take a look in the shack, make sure you haven’t forgotten anything?” Cord’s husky voice prompted her and Rachel nodded, hurrying toward the doorway.

It was cool inside, only a trace of sunlight slanting across the floor from the single window. She looked around, taking in the dilapidated furnishings, the dirt floor and the dust motes that filtered down from the rafters. Already, the place held a deserted air.

Another few days and the last trace of crumbs on the floor would be eaten by stray critters, the wind would whistle through the broken door at night, and it would be as if they had never been there.

She shivered at the thought and turned away. “I think we’re ready,” she said, squinting against the sunlight as she passed through the doorway.

Cord set the door in place and gave her his hand, lifting her to the wagon seat. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

Rachel lifted the reins and looked down at Henry. He’s growing, she thought. His head comes above my shoulder now. From behind her, Jay was making impatient noises, and she cast him a glance of warning.

Cord’s big gelding moved ahead of her, leading the way. She slapped the leather straps against the broad backs of her team, urging them to move out.

“He’s nice, isn’t he, Rae?” Henry’s words were soft, meant only for her ears, and she nodded her reply.

The boy reached into his pocket, lifting on one hip to snake the long licorice whip from its depths.

“You’ve still got candy left?” she asked, smiling at his frugality.

“Yeah. Want a bite?” Gnawing off a length, he offered the treat in her direction.

“No. Thanks anyway.” Perhaps he’d have more than a piece of candy now and then, once she managed to save a little money. Maybe she could afford to do better by the boys if this job panned out

She drew a deep breath, glancing up at the sky, where clouds rode in billowing herds…where the sun cast its muted rays on the earth below. And then that brilliant orb burst forth from behind a cloud bank, allowing the undiluted splendor of sunlight to wash over her surroundings.

As if it were a sign, a prediction of good things to come, she basked in its warmth. Her gaze drawn again to the man who rode before her, she smiled, admiring the straight line of his back, the easy movement of his body as he sat astride his horse.

And wondered at the shiver of delight that coursed through her body as she considered him.

“Damn dog belongs outdoors, Rachel!” Cord’s brows were lowered over stormy eyes as he confronted his new cook. The front of his shirt wore a lavish display of hot coffee, and his fingertips held the wet fabric as far away from his chest as possible, as he roared his disapproval.

Rachel’s lips were pressed tightly together and her eyes widened with dismay as she beheld her employer’s anger. “I’m so sorry, Mr. McPherson. The boys gave Buster a bath when they got up. They let him in the house so he wouldn’t roll in the dirt. I had him shut in the pantry during breakfast. He must have gotten out when I was clearing up.”

Cord’s fingers worked at the buttons of the shirt he’d donned, fresh from his drawer, only an hour ago. Undoing them and stripping the wet garment from his body, he muttered his thoughts aloud regarding the mutt who watched from behind the pantry door.

“Rules are rules, Rachel. Dogs belong outdoors.” He handed her the gray shirt and she reached to grasp it.

“Let me get some butter to put on the burn,” she offered, her gaze intent on the flexing muscles in his upper arms as he moved. “It will take out the sting.”

“A cold cloth will do as well,” he told her. She turned to the sink where a dish towel was pressed into service as she pumped water to wet it before wringing it out Rachel handed it to him, watching as he spread the cool cloth against his flesh.

He was tall, well muscled, his arms and shoulders seeming more powerful without the covering of a shirt. Her gaze was drawn by the width of his chest, her eyes fixed on the curling dark hair that centered there. He was big. There was no other word to adequately describe the man. His arms were long, thick with muscles and pale above the elbows.

She clenched her hands, fearful that the urge to touch him would somehow gain control of her, that her traitorous fingers would reach to flex against the flesh he bared to her eyes.

“Will you go up and get me a clean shirt?” He motioned to his boots, dusty from the barn. “I don’t want to track on the carpets. My room’s the one at the head of the stairs.”

She’d paid scant attention last night, once she’d put together a meal for ten. Though only nine had been around the big table in the kitchen. Cord had muttered something about Jake eating later and Rachel could only be relieved at one less to wait on.