Читать книгу Montana Mail-Order Wife - Charlotte Douglas - Страница 13

Rachel accompanied Ursula through the broad central hall of the house. Doors to adjoining rooms opened on either side, and a wide staircase rose to the second floor, but she paid little attention to her surroundings, beyond the walls’ chinked-log construction, polished hardwood floors, spaciousness created by high ceilings, and the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon in the air.

Ursula stepped through a door at the end of the hall and preceded Rachel into a bright, oversize kitchen. Cheery yellow-checkered curtains flanked the ample windows, and a monstrous, black wood-burning stove with logs stacked beside it dominated one end of the room.

The logs reminded Rachel of Wade’s timber. “The forest fire—did it do much damage?”

From a hook behind the door, Ursula removed a gingham apron, a twin to the one she wore, and handed it to Rachel. Her pleasant features darkened. “Enough to take a bite out of Wade’s timber profits this year.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rachel recalled the agony on Wade’s face when he realized the blaze was on his land. After the kindness he had shown her, losing his timber didn’t seem fair.

The housekeeper gave her a peeler and indicated a small mountain of potatoes on the well-scrubbed wooden table. “Wade planned to use the money from that timber to buy more land this year.”

“Can’t he use the income from his cattle?” As Rachel hefted a potato and fumbled with the unfamiliar feel of the peeler, the rudeness of her question struck her. “Sorry, it’s really none of my—”

“Course it’s your business. You’re going to be his partner, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” She glanced at her hands to conceal her blushing and avoid the housekeeper’s probing look.

“Cattle business ain’t what it used to be,” Ursula grumbled as she filled a pot the size of a washtub with water and set it on the massive stove, “but Wade’s better at raising beef than anyone else in this part of the state.”

If Rachel entertained the slightest inclination toward accepting Wade’s strange proposal, she’d need all the information she could gather. Encouraged by Ursula’s openness, she posed another question. “Doesn’t it take a lot of money to operate a huge ranch like this?”

Ursula picked up a paring knife and attacked the skin of a potato. “Wade’s a good manager. When cattle prices are up, he sets something aside for leaner years. His timber’s always been icing on the cake. Investing the money from those sales has made him the wealthiest man in the valley.”

Ursula had already peeled two potatoes to Rachel’s one, assaulting the spuds as if they were enemies. Rachel marveled at the swiftness of the weathered hands, misshapen by arthritis. If Wade expected her to replace this paragon of domesticity, she had a lot to learn.

“This year’s timber’s gone,” Ursula said, “but because of Wade’s investments, he won’t ever have to break the promise he made his daddy.”

“What promise was that?” Rachel wiped the finger she’d nicked with the peeler on her apron.

“Never to sell off part of Longhorn Valley Ranch. A real estate agent from Great Falls has been hovering around here like a buzzard, offering to buy the land along the river for an outrageous price.”

“If the ranch’s profits are variable, why would someone else offer outrageous money for just a strip of it?”

“The Realtor wants to subdivide it into ‘estates’ for all them wealthy folks moving from California to escape crime.” Ursula spoke as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

Rachel shrugged. “If the land’s standing empty, why doesn’t Wade sell and invest the profit?”

“You got a lot to learn about Wade Garrett, girl. He never breaks a promise.” Ursula laughed with sardonic humor. “You got a lot to learn about working a ranch, too. If he sold that land, he’d lose his water rights.”

Rachel glanced at the faucets on the sink. “But you have water.”

“Without the river, Wade couldn’t water his cattle or the tree seedlings he’ll be planting soon. So without the river frontage, he might as well sell the whole kit and caboodle.”

“Is Dad gonna sell the ranch?” a high, thin voice behind Ursula asked. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

Ursula swiveled in her chair, allowing Rachel a view of a small boy standing in the doorway, his eyes red and swollen and his sooty cheeks tracked with tears. Even if she hadn’t known who he was, she would have recognized Jordan as a startling miniature of his father, less muscular and self-assured, but with the same heart-stopping good looks that would one day drive women wild.

For now, he was a very frightened and unhappy little boy. Despite her act of bravado over her lost memory, Rachel knew exactly how he felt.

“Come in and meet Rachel,” Ursula said.

The boy hunched his thin shoulder to wipe his face on the sleeve of his T-shirt, and approached Rachel as if he had lead in his sneakers. The loneliness in his big brown eyes stabbed at her heart and mirrored her own.

“Hello, Jordan. Your daddy’s told me lots about you.”

“He did?” His gamin face brightened at the mention of Wade.

“You bet,” Rachel said. “From what I can tell, you’re the most important person in your daddy’s whole world.”

A transforming smile filled with the innocence and hope of childhood swept across his face before the sadness returned. “Not anymore. Not after today.”

“Everybody makes mistakes, Jordan. Even if your father is angry at what you’ve done, he still loves you.” Rachel reached out and grasped his shoulders lightly.

For one small instant, the boy looked as if he’d like to throw himself into her arms. Then his expression hardened, and he jerked from her grasp. “He just wants me to stay out of trouble and out of his way.”

Across the table, Ursula raised her eyebrows and flashed Rachel a knowing look that said, See what you’re in for?

Rachel understood loneliness and fear. She’d had her fill of both the last two weeks. But she was an adult and, even without memories, more equipped to deal with life than this small boy, trying so hard to be brave. Her heart ached for him.

He headed toward the door, then turned back with a suspicious glare. “Are you going to live here?”

“I don’t know.” She told the truth, not only because he deserved it, but because he’d know if she lied. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Guess you don’t want to be around a kid who causes so much trouble.” His narrowed eyes and the aggressive jut of his chin dared her to disagree.

She rose to the bait with honesty. “If I do stay, you’ll be the main reason.”

“Me?” Astonishment replaced his pugnacious look.

“You.” The smile of warmth and approval she gave him originated deep inside. “I think I’m going to like you very much.”

Grinning as if she’d given him a priceless gift, Jordan turned and rushed out the door.

A FEW HOURS LATER, with Band-Aids plastered on her cuts from the potato peeler, Rachel crossed the grassy back lawn and followed a dirt track toward the barn. The Forest Service firefighters and volunteers had already gathered at makeshift picnic tables on the side lawn and helped themselves to Ursula’s grilled steaks, mashed potatoes and fresh-picked salad. When she and Ursula had served the apple pies and Wade still hadn’t appeared, Rachel had gone in search of him.

She found him at a large washtub beside the barn, stripped to the waist.

He dunked his head into the water just as she approached, and the broad, smooth muscles of his back glinted golden in the last rays of the sun as it dropped behind the mountains. He pulled his head from the water and whipped his streaming hair back from his face, radiating strength and virility like the sun projects light.

At the sight of him, she wondered anew why every unattached female in the county wasn’t set on marrying him. He’d said he wouldn’t marry a local girl because of Maggie’s memory, but had refused to elaborate. His unspoken anger at the mention of Maggie’s name suggested his reluctance had nothing to do with honoring Maggie’s memory. But what else it could be was a mystery. If Wade wouldn’t tell her, maybe Ursula would.

Still, it was a shame some woman couldn’t wake up every morning to those seductive brown eyes, closed now as he groped along the bench beside the tub for his towel.

She scurried forward and grabbed the cloth, which had fallen into the dirt. Flicking it clean, she thrust it into his hands. He dried his face before opening his eyes.

“Thanks.” He toweled his hair, seeming unsurprised to find her there.

She averted her eyes from his bare chest and muscled arms and gazed instead over the adjacent field of tall grass that stretched toward the river. But looking away didn’t prevent the scent of spicy soap and a faint whiff of wood smoke from reminding her of his presence.

His deal with her was only business, she reminded her mutinous senses.

“You had supper?” he asked.

“The others are almost finished, but I was waiting for you.”

“Why?”

At the surprise in his tone, she wheeled to face him. “I want to talk to you about Jordan.”

He shrugged into a clean denim shirt and began fastening the buttons. “What about him?”

She’d spent a half hour with the boy while he picked at his supper and cast anxious glances toward the barn in anticipation of his father’s return. “He’s scared to death.”

Finished with his buttons, Wade turned his back, a small concession to modesty, unzipped his jeans and tucked in his shirt. The intimacy of standing with a man she barely knew as he bathed and dressed in the gathering twilight would have unnerved her more if she hadn’t been so concerned for the boy.

He zipped his jeans and swiveled to face her. “Jordan doesn’t have anything to be scared of.”

She wanted to shake Wade as, without a clue to his son’s torment, he calmly rolled up his sleeves. “He’s scared to death of you.”

He flinched as if she’d struck him. “Me? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” She had learned a lot from the boy in her short interval with him. “When did you last spend any time with him?”

“I can’t be everywhere. I’ve been at the hospital with you for almost two weeks.”

Lucky for him, a trace of guilt filtered through the defensiveness in his voice, or her anger would have exploded. “And before that?”

He stopped and thought. “Week before last, when final report cards came out. I set him straight about his C in language arts.”

“What were his other grades?”

He shrugged. “A’s and B’s.”

Common sense told her to back off from the man who was offering her the hospitality of his home, but the terror she’d witnessed in Jordan’s face prodded her on. “What did you say about his good grades?”

He combed his damp hair with his fingers. “What was there to say? They were fine.”

When he set off toward the house, she took three strides to his one to keep pace. “Wade Garrett, if you want me to honor the promise I made before my accident, you’d better stop right now and hear me out.”

“We’re not married yet, Rachel girl.” He stopped and faced her. A muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth in an insinuation of a grin. “It’s a little early for you to start bossing me around.”

“Bossing…?” She held her breath and counted silently to ten while he stared with a provocative half smile on his too-darned-handsome face. She exhaled, calmer, and broached the reason for her confrontation. “Jordan’s terrified you’ll punish him for starting the fire.”

A rock-hard grimness replaced the half smile. “He should be punished.”

Her stomach churned with frustration. “Punished for trying to get his daddy’s attention by doing something you’d be proud of?”

The harsh line of his mouth remained taut. “I don’t recall anybody handing out prizes to firebugs. The boy’s got to learn the difference between right and wrong.”

“He knows the difference. What Jordan needs to learn is that his father loves him.” If Wade hadn’t been so huge, with a build like a boulder, she’d have jostled him till his teeth rattled. “He didn’t set that fire on purpose. You should know him better than that.”

Wade lifted one dark eyebrow in question, but his mouth remained stern.

Undeterred, Rachel plowed ahead. “From the short time I’ve been around him, I can tell Jordan’s not a troublemaker.”

“He could’ve fooled me.” Wade lowered his face to within inches of hers and heaved a frustrated sigh. “I could make a list as long as my arm of the trouble that kid’s been in, just in the last month.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “And it never occurred to you to wonder why?”

“Because he doesn’t have a mother to keep him in line, that’s why. That’s where you come in.” His slow grin sent shivers of delight coursing down her back.

But she refused to be distracted. “Jordan wants you to notice him.”

Wade regarded her with a look half quizzical, half amused. “What are you, a psychologist?”

She gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t take a psychologist, or a rocket scientist, to see Jordan needs your attention. Today he was trying, all by himself, to fulfill the requirements for a camping award.”

“What?” At least Wade had the grace to look bewildered.

“You didn’t know he was working on the project?”

He flung his arms wide and rolled his eyes. “That’s Ursula’s job.”

Her temper rising, Rachel scowled. “Your attitude explains why the poor kid’s been struggling on his own to master camping skills.”

“A camping award isn’t worth burning down my timber,” Wade said, but he sounded less sure of himself than before.

“He didn’t intend to burn your timber! He was teaching himself to start a fire without matches.”

Wade massaged the back of his neck as if he had a pain. “Judging from ten acres of ashes, I’d say he’s mastered the technique.”

Rachel rammed her fists on her hips and lifted her chin to meet Wade’s mellow gaze. “The wind picked up and blew sparks into dry grass. Jordan tried to stomp it out. When that didn’t work, he attempted to beat it out with his shirt. You’re lucky your son wasn’t burned alive trying to save your precious timber.”

Wade shook his head in disbelief. “All over a camping award?”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? Your son could have been burned to a crisp, a part of those ashes you’re complaining about.”

For a moment, when his assured expression slipped and doubt glinted in his eyes, she thought she’d made her point.

Then he broke into a grin. “Now that you’re here, you can keep him safe.”

“Aargh!”

Rachel wheeled and hurried toward the house, leaving him alone in the driveway. She shouldn’t have bothered explaining. Despite the compassion Wade had shown her after the train wreck, he was as ignorant as a mule where Jordan was concerned.

Recalling the boy’s tear-streaked face, Rachel whirled and returned to Wade.

“Why can’t you get it through your thick head it’s his father’s approval, not some award, that’s important to Jordan?” She poked her finger against the hard muscles of his chest. “The poor kid believes he has to win a medal, just so his own father will love him.”

She snatched her finger away and clenched her trembling hands at her side, astonished by the strong maternal urge that had overwhelmed her, infusing her with an unfamiliar courage. Either some repressed memory had activated her response, or the skinny little kid had worked some kind of spell on her.

A glance at Wade made her rethink her last assumption. His eyes, alight with growing awareness, gleamed in the twilight like polished stones. She squirmed beneath his rapt gaze.

Maybe it wasn’t Jordan who had cast a spell.

Horrified at her boldness, she raced across the dew-wet grass toward the house, fleeing Wade’s probing scrutiny and the corresponding quiver in her heart.

WADE WATCHED HER GO. He’d wanted a mother for Jordan, so why wasn’t he delighted when Rachel acted like one?

Because she’s pointing out your faults.

He ignored the twinge of conscience. He’d done his best with Jordan, raising the boy as his own dad had raised him, with an iron hand, strict rules and swift and speedy punishment for misbehavior. And he, Wade, had turned out all right, hadn’t he? True, he’d always had more fear than fondness for his father, but the ornery old cuss had taught him right from wrong and how to run a ranch. Passing on those values was more important than love, wasn’t it?

Besides, Wade had to instill in Jordan a strong moral fiber, so he wouldn’t grow up to be like his mother.

The memory of Rachel’s green eyes reproached him, and he attempted to relieve his guilty conscience with more excuses, but he was too bone-tired to argue, even with himself. He’d spent hours helping the firefighters hose down hot spots. All he wanted now was a hot meal and a good night’s sleep.