Читать книгу Whirlwind Baby - Debra Cowan - Страница 8

Chapter Two

The next morning, Emma stood just inside the kitchen door and tried not to bite her nails. It was a bad habit she had thought broken long ago, but she’d had to stop herself more than once last night, too. And during the days before she’d been hired and fretted about what Jake Ross would do with Molly; about what she herself had done with the baby.

The Ross family sat at the large dining table, Jake on the end closest to her, his brother opposite him. His uncle sat between them with his back to her and Georgia sat across the table. Behind Jake, the pink of early morning light filtered through the large glass-paned window that looked into the dining room and front room to the staircase beyond.

The men wolfed down the eggs, biscuits and ham Emma had set out so she took that to mean they liked the food all right. But they ate breakfast as fast as they had eaten supper. The meal could’ve been boots and gravy, and she doubted they would’ve noticed.

Last night she had dreamed that Jake Ross had changed his mind about hiring her. That he’d found out nearly everything she’d told him was a lie.

Just because he acted as if things were fine this morning, she’d lived long enough with her stepfather to know that a man’s temper was as unpredictable as a twister and could come up just as fast.

So she watched her new employer carefully, looking for a sign, a change in his temperament that so far seemed quiet and even. If she had to leave in order to protect Molly, she would. While it would be inconvenient, it wouldn’t pain her. Certainly not like what had happened two weeks ago when she had found their mother dead. Murdered.

Emma had no proof, had witnessed nothing, but she knew it was murder. And she knew who’d done it. Her stepfather had abused her mother since their marriage two years ago, especially when Nola had put herself between his fists and Emma. When Nola became pregnant with Molly, she knew she had to get the baby and Emma away from Orson. Despite endless threats from Orson to use any means necessary to stop his wife from leaving him, Emma’s mother had prepared, anyway.

After Molly turned six months old, Emma and her mother began to carefully make plans to leave Topeka and Emma’s stepfather. A month ago, he found a stash of money and assumed, rightly, that his wife intended to use it for her and her daughters’ escape.

Orson Douglas didn’t take any action at the time. Probably due to the risk that, just before an election, he might have to answer questions about what had happened to his wife and eight-month-old baby. Most people admired the politician, looked up to him. But not his stepdaughter. Senator Orson Douglas scared Emma witless.

And one afternoon two weeks later, she returned from the seamstress in Topeka and found her mother dead. Mama lay in her bed with Orson standing over her crying that it must have happened because Nola had taken too much of the laudanum she used for relief from a back injury due to a recent fall. A fall caused by her husband.

Horrified and frightened, Emma’d managed to give away nothing, but she knew Orson Douglas had killed his wife. And she knew what Nola would want her to do. Two days later, as people filled their grand house after the funeral, Emma had used the excuse of putting her half sister down for a nap, then had slipped out with the child.

Jake Ross turned his head then, his black gaze locking on her. She straightened, her fingers curling in the hem of the worn white apron she’d found.

His uncle Ike, as tall as Jake and lanky, picked up his cup of coffee as he looked over his shoulder. “We sure lucked out when Jake found you, Miz York.”

She doubted he would think so if he knew she’d found them. After reaching Abilene by train, she had seen Jake Ross there. Emma would’ve noticed him, anyway, because of his size and rugged good looks, but what had her deciding he was right for Molly was the patience and kindness he’d shown a lost little boy. No one else had paid a whit of attention to the child except to order him out of the way, but Jake had helped him find his mother.

Emma had included that in the note, hoping the mention of it would make the rancher less inclined to send Molly somewhere else. “So everything’s to your liking?”

“Everything’s wonderful.” Ike nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bram declared.

“Especially the coffee.” Georgia smiled.

The older woman had told Emma that Bram and Jake had been raised by their uncle. Though both were dark haired and strapping, Bram’s eyes were blue rather than black like Jake’s.

Jake glanced over, making her stomach flutter the way it had when she’d first seen him last evening.

“Yeah, the coffee’s real good,” he said gruffly.

Bram took another biscuit, split it and slathered butter on it. “These biscuits are better than Pearl’s.”

At her frown, Jake explained, “She’s a lady in Whirlwind who owns the Pearl Restaurant.”

The relief that moved through Emma was so strong it made her chest ache. Thank goodness they liked the food.

The elder Ross squinted at her. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Yes, very well.”

“And the baby?” Georgia asked. “Did she keep you awake?”

“No. She slept, too.”

Her employer looked surprised, but said nothing.

“Is she up yet?” Bram asked.

“Yes.” She inclined her head toward the kitchen. “She’s in there.”

“She sure is quiet,” he said.

“She’s a good baby,” Emma said mildly.

“So she hasn’t scared you off yet?” Jake’s voice was flat.

“No, not at all.” The way everyone’s gazes went to him then immediately skipped away had her wondering again if he disliked the baby. “I was going to make flapjacks, but wasn’t sure how many.”

“None for me.” Bram grinned, reaching for the platter of biscuits and bacon. “I’ve got all the food I need right here.”

“What he’s got is plenty for everyone, Miz York,” Ike said dryly.

Jake said nothing.

She smiled. “All right, then.”

“Aren’t you going to join us?” Georgia patted the empty place next to her.

The invitation took Emma by surprise. If circumstances had been different, she would’ve liked getting to know them, making friends, but leaving was going to be hard enough when the time came. She should do her job and keep to herself. “Thank you, but I’ve eaten.”

“I’ll share the biscuits with you,” Bram cajoled with a charming grin that revealed a deep set of dimples.

Aware of the sharp look Jake threw him, she turned for the kitchen. Mr. Ross obviously didn’t like his family being friendly with the help, which was fine with Emma. “If you’re sure you don’t want the flapjacks, I’ll start cleaning the dishes and I’ll bring more coffee.”

“But—” Bram began.

She fetched the coffee then returned, using the skirt of her apron to hold the hot handle. After pouring a cup for the elder Ross, she moved to Jake.

He passed her his cup and when she returned it to him, their fingers brushed. She pulled away quickly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Her gaze caught on his and she felt heat creep into her cheeks. She stepped behind Ike to go to Bram, wishing she weren’t so aware of the way Jake’s pale gray shirt molded shoulders that were as wide as the door. Of his dark hair and black eyes. He was handsome in a rugged, rough way that made a woman think he could protect her. Well, Emma knew better than to trust such sentiments.

As she moved around the table to Georgia, he didn’t look at her. And yet she felt his attention on her. Weighing, considering. Her guard immediately went up. She wished she could disappear.

As she stepped into the kitchen, she surreptitiously cast one more glance over her shoulder and her gaze crashed into his.

Their new housekeeper acted nervous, Jake thought. Because of him? He didn’t mean to make her nervous, but, well, he couldn’t stop looking at her.

Bram looked at Jake. “She acted worried that we wouldn’t like her cooking.”

“I think she was.”

“She’s every bit as good a cook as Louisa. Don’t scare her off.”

Jake glared at his brother and shoved a biscuit in his mouth. Something about Emma York compelled his attention and it wasn’t that she was taking care of that kid. He’d woken several times last night thinking about her. Not hot, sweaty-type thoughts, but curious, bothered-type thoughts.

He’d decided that was on account of all the alcohol working its way out of his system. He drank to forget and she was a much more pleasant image to contemplate than the reason he’d been drinking. Quentin. Thoughts of his brother-in-law—former brother-in-law—made Jake angry and uncomfortable and chute crazy. The quicker he finished breakfast, the sooner he could get some space.

Under the table, something grabbed the left leg of his jeans, startling him out of his thoughts. He registered a tiny hand just in time to stop himself from shoving his chair back. Knowing what he would find and knowing it was inevitable that he would sometimes have to be around her, he bent and looked under the table.

The baby stared back at him with big gray-green eyes. She grinned, revealing two teeth. Clutching his knee, she pulled herself to her feet.

Dammit.

“What is it? The baby?” Bram ducked his head to get a look.

Jake wanted out of this chair right now, but, if he rose, the baby would fall. She took a lurching step forward into the vee between his legs and latched on to him to keep her balance. One chubby little hand hit his thigh, the other one his man parts.

He didn’t want to hold her, but he didn’t want her looking at him with those big eyes, either. Easing his chair back, he sent a pleading look to his brother, who was occupied with scraping his plate clean.

Jake picked her up, holding her stiffly out in front of him. He had every intention of handing her off to Georgia or his uncle when Molly grabbed his face between her hands and jabbered something. Her sweet baby scent drifted around him, pricking at memories he kept ruthlessly tucked away.

Sheer reflex had him surging to his feet and thrusting her toward Ike. Before the older man could take her, Miz York eased the baby out of his hold.

“I’m sorry.” She sent Jake an apologetic look. “I didn’t know she’d gotten away from me.”

Heat searing his nerves, he stepped behind his chair, putting some distance between them. The knowing look in his uncle’s eyes had him dragging a hand across his nape.

Puzzlement slid across the nurse’s fine-boned features.

“We don’t know much about babies—” Bram stood, drawing her attention “—but we like ’em.”

Her uncertain gaze darted to Jake then fixed on his brother. “I’ll try to keep her out of your way.”

“She’s not in our way,” Ike said jovially as he rose from his chair. “We like having her around.”

Jake caught the flash of skepticism on Emma York’s face and knew he should try to reassure her, but he couldn’t do it. Her light soap scent joined with the baby’s and he felt as if his chest were being crushed.

“We didn’t hire you so you’d keep her away from us,” Ike said. “We just need some help taking care of her.”

Jake wanted to say he had definitely hired Miz York to keep the baby away from him. That he was the one who made the final decisions around here, but he wasn’t. And he didn’t want to be responsible for that baby. Fine with him if Uncle Ike wanted to raise the orphan the same way he’d raised his nephews. That didn’t mean Jake had to.

“It’s just that some of us are better with little ones than others of us are,” Bram explained.

Miz York nodded, her face pale as she cuddled the baby.

“That was an excellent breakfast, Miz York.” Georgia folded her napkin and set it beside her plate.

“Yes. If we don’t watch it,” her father said, “you’ll have us all fatter than peach-orchard boars in no time.”

Her lips curved in the closest thing to a real smile that Jake had seen since she’d arrived. “Thank you.”

The way her face lit up put a strange tightness in Jake’s chest. But, when her gaze shifted to him, her smile faded and a wariness moved into her eyes. She turned and walked into the kitchen.

Dammit. Compelled to make an effort at reassuring her, he asked, “Is there anything we can do for you before we leave? Anything you need?”

Her voice drifted from the kitchen. “I need to do the laundry. If you could just show me the washtub—”

“We’ll haul the water for you,” Bram volunteered.

“And start the fire,” Jake added.

Coming back to the doorway with the baby on her hip, she looked at Bram, not Jake. “Thank you, but—”

“I’ll get the basket Louisa used to carry the laundry.” His brother went into a small alcove between the housekeeper’s room and the outside wall, returning with a large round basket. After setting it in Jake’s chair, he moved toward the door. “That was a fine meal, Miz York.”

“I’ll start the fire on my way out,” Jake said.

“That’s not necessary,” she said stiffly. “You did hire me to do the job, after all.”

He looked at her. Did they all make her uncomfortable or was it just him? “It won’t take a minute for me to get it burning.”

“I can do it.”

“We can gather up our clothes for you,” Bram insisted.

“I’m supposed to be here to help you—” she looked ill at ease “—not the other way around.”

“All right.” Bram grinned. “You can gather the clothes, but we’ll haul the tubs and the water.”

“And rig up the clothesline,” Ike added.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, though she acted more uneasy than pleased about it.

Bram went outside and Jake started to follow. Now that he was getting some space from her, he could breathe just fine. “We’ll be riding in the west pasture today. If you need anything, for any reason, there’s a gun behind the front door. And there’s a bell hanging right outside the kitchen door and the barn. We can hear both for quite a ways.”

“Do you expect trouble?” Her eyes went wide with worry.

“No, not at all. But we’re not expecting visitors, either.” He’d mentioned the weapon and the bell to reassure her, but it obviously hadn’t. “I wanted you to know about the gun for protection and how to signal us if you needed to.”

“All right, thank you.” She studied him as if she were trying to determine how he was put together.

“Is there anything particular you’d like for supper?” she asked tentatively.

“Whatever you fix will be fine.” He needed to get outside, now. “If we get held up, don’t wait on us. You and Georgia eat while it’s hot.”

She nodded as Georgia came around the table. Emma and his cousin followed him to the door, and Jake could feel the nurse’s anxious gaze locked on him.

Just looking at her pale face made his chest tight. That baby and Emma York made him feel responsible for their welfare. The minute he’d seen the brunette, something inside him had gone still. He didn’t know why. He didn’t care to know.

He was sick to death of feeling responsible for everyone, dead and alive. He’d done the right thing by not dumping that baby on someone else, done the right thing by hiring Emma York. He didn’t need to do anything else, but, for some reason, right didn’t seem like enough this time.

Jake Ross had buzzed in Emma’s thoughts all day like a pesky insect. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the hard look on his face when he’d held Molly that morning at breakfast or because of the quiet way he had studied Emma. As if he knew more than she’d told him. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen him again today. He and the two other men hadn’t returned until late tonight, well after supper and after Emma had gone to bed.

Now it was past midnight and she stood in the kitchen over the stove. Soft amber light from the lone kerosene lamp behind her pooled on the floor. Molly had been fussy since supper and nothing Emma did had helped. She had finally decided the little girl’s stomach hurt and come to the kitchen to make the onion tea that her mother had sworn was the best remedy for upset tummies or a mixed-up sleeping schedule.

As she added another pinch of finely chopped onion to the heating water, Emma couldn’t help recalling the look on Jake Ross’s face this morning when he’d picked up her sister. It hadn’t been disgust or blatant dislike, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it had been. Did he dislike the baby? Everyone in his family had given him odd looks, but she hadn’t been able to decipher those, either.

Had she made a mistake by choosing him, by coming here? The rest of his family seemed to like the little girl just fine, but Emma wouldn’t leave her sister in a household where she wasn’t welcome by everyone. Still, Emma had no money to take her sister and go farther west. Until she did, she would have to stay here and try to help the Ross family become attached to Molly.

When the onion-and-water mixture began to boil, Emma turned to take a folded cloth from the long counter to her right. And gasped. Jake Ross stood in the doorway, wrapped in shadows. In the shift of gray light, she could see he was shirtless. His denims were unbuttoned and he held a gun. How long had he been standing there?

“Shh.” He put a finger to his lips, lamplight slanting across the strong angle of his jaw. “I heard something outside.”

She swallowed hard, nodding to let him know she’d keep quiet.

“I’m going to check. Don’t go anywhere.”

She couldn’t have moved, anyway. Her legs felt like water. He walked past her and silently opened the door on the opposite wall that led outside.

Emma’s heart thundered. He’d startled her, but that wasn’t why her pulse spiked. Gracious, the man was…impressive. His shoulders and chest were hard, solid muscle, only a shade lighter than his face and arms, making it obvious that he worked outside frequently without a shirt. Dark hair on his chest narrowed to a thin line below his navel.

As he went out the door, Emma stared. She couldn’t help it. She’d never seen a man’s bare back. Or bare chest. Or bare anything. One time, she’d seen her stepfather in shirtsleeves, but she’d never laid eyes on a half-naked man.

A funny feeling clenched her stomach. He looked so huge. Intimidating.

She wasn’t sure how long she waited. Realizing she was without her spectacles, Emma slipped them from the pocket of her wrapper and slid them on. Very carefully so as not to make any noise, she reached again for the cloth and lifted the boiling pot from the stove, setting it on the long counter.

After several minutes, the kitchen door opened and Jake moved back inside. He shook his head as he quietly closed the door. “Someone’s been out there, but they’re long gone. Found footprints, but no other sign.”

Though she cautioned herself not to jump to conclusions, Emma’s shoulders tensed up. There was no reason to think that whoever had been out there had been looking for her, but she couldn’t help it. There was no doubt her stepfather would’ve already assigned one of his men, probably Sharpton, to start searching for her and Molly. Orson wouldn’t risk hiring a reputable detective agency like the Pinkertons because he’d be afraid Emma would tell the lawmen about his violent behavior. And she would, if she had the chance. No, Orson had to be discreet and that meant sending one of his own men to find her and the baby.

She’d been so careful. He couldn’t have found them yet. Please, not yet.

“What do you think they wanted?” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake still at the outside door, his gaze riveted on her. Her hair. Could he tell that this nut-brown wasn’t her natural color? That it was a dye made from walnut leaves and husks?

It hit her then that her hair was down, plaited into a braid that lay over her shoulder and against her breast. That all she had on was her night rail and wrapper. That all he had on were…denims. His trousers were unbuttoned enough that she could tell the skin below his waistband was lighter than his chest, like the color of an acorn.

The night pulsed around them and Emma realized she was staring, too. She wrapped her arms around her waist. A muscle clenched in Jake’s jaw and he jerkily barred the door then moved past her, heading toward the dining room. The scent of man and soap and the outdoors teased her.

“There’s no telling what they wanted.” He turned in the doorway. “All the livestock we put up in the barn were there and I didn’t hear any cattle bawling like they would be if someone had stirred them up.”

She heard his words, tried to pay attention to what he said. But what she was thinking was what beautiful eyes he had and how, in the softer light, his mouth didn’t seem harsh at all.

“Could’ve just been someone passing through, but I doubt it,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take another look in the morning when it’s light out.”

She nodded, fighting the urge to bite her nails. There was a fluttery sensation in her stomach that she didn’t understand. All because of him? She forced herself to look away from his chest, but she could feel his gaze traveling slowly down her body from her breasts to her bare toes peeking out from under her nightdress.

He cleared his throat. “What are you doing up? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes. I’m making onion tea.” She eagerly latched on to the question. “The baby’s been fussy and I think she has a stomachache. My mother used to make onion tea for that.”

At the mention of her mother, unexpected tears burned Emma’s throat and she swallowed hard.

Something unreadable and raw flared in Jake’s dark eyes and she was swept with the sudden ridiculous urge to go to him.

He seemed to sense her upset or perhaps he could see it on her face. “You’re gonna give a baby tea made from an onion?”

The look of distaste on his face had her smiling. “I’ll add sugar. She’ll think it tastes good.”

“Will it really settle her stomach?”

She nodded. “Sometimes it’s also used to help babies with their sleeping schedule so they aren’t awake while everyone else is trying to sleep.”

“Sounds like you know your stuff.” He backed up a step. “No one’s out there so you don’t need to worry. But, if you need to use the privy in the middle of the night, you should take the rifle. It’s—”

“Behind the door, I know.” She smiled in an effort to reassure him, to get him to leave.

But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. “Yeah, behind the door,” he repeated in a raspy voice.

Something passed between them, something Emma had never felt for a man and it scared her. Hands shaking, she turned away and reached above the counter for a cup sitting on the shelf.

“Good night, then.”

“Good night.” She felt him leave, listened hard for the near-silent pad of his feet across the floor of the front room, then the slight creak of the stairs as he went up.

A breath shuddered out of her. She told herself she was shaking because someone had been outside. Someone who might’ve come for her, but Emma knew that wasn’t it at all.

It was because of Jake Ross. Oh, lands.

Stubbornly, she focused on adding a couple of teaspoons of sugar to the onion liquid. She was being fanciful. He’d startled her, first with his presence then by saying someone had been outside.

That was what it was. That was all it was. Still, she decided it would probably be wise to keep out of his way.

The next morning, Emma managed to stay clear of Jake Ross before and during breakfast, and finally he left with the other men for the day. On the back porch, Molly played with a doll Emma had fashioned from a piece of old linen. Emma gathered yesterday’s laundry from the clothesline a few feet away. It was strung between the porch and the henhouse. A roller wringer that squeezed water from clothes sat at the corner of the porch.

Georgia sat in a rocking chair, also keeping an eye on the baby as she shelled peas with one hand. Emma was amazed how much the other woman could do with just one hand and how well she did it. The climate was arid here, just like back in Kansas, although hotter. The breeze came too infrequently, but she wasn’t nearly as hot today as she had been yesterday while doing the wash.

Pushing her spectacles up for the tenth time, she gathered clothes, folding them and putting them into the basket Bram had fetched for her yesterday. Emma’s thoughts seemed stuck on Jake Ross. Just because she hadn’t spoken to him this morning didn’t mean she was unaware of him.

After seeing him half-dressed last night, Emma didn’t think she would ever be unaware of him. Just the memory of his hard, bare chest was enough to make her stomach dip. She hadn’t been able to look at him while serving breakfast and, thankfully, he hadn’t seemed inclined to look at her, although she felt a carefulness in his manner that made her think he remembered last night, too.

The look he’d given her, almost reluctantly it seemed, had been heated and hungry. Her skin had gone tight. No man had ever affected her that way. Emma might not have much experience with men or flirting, but she knew what happened between men and women. Her mother had told her during those weeks her stepfather had pressed her to marry Albert Crocker.

Albert had tried to kiss her once and she had pulled away. He’d been angry enough to raise his hand to her, though he hadn’t hit her. She’d refused the railroad baron’s son, not because she feared sharing his bed, but because Albert seemed to be as cruel as her stepfather. And her refusal had earned the burn scars on her back, one of the few times her mother had been unable to shield her from Orson Douglas’s wrath.

Jake Ross was a big man, with big hands, like her stepfather. Maybe it was those things that made her nervous rather than some annoying awareness of him. Emma reached the end of the clothesline and pulled down the last sheet. After giving it a snap, she folded it.

As she bent down to place the linen on top of the other laundry, she got the sense she had missed something. She hadn’t been paying strict attention to her task so she wasn’t sure. She knelt and dug through the pile of clothes that would need to be ironed. She couldn’t find her corset. Even though she knew she’d taken everything from the clothesline, she looked over her shoulder.

It wasn’t there. She was positive she’d washed it and hung it out to dry because she didn’t have it on beneath her gray work dress. And it was the only one she’d brought. Four days of hard riding to Baxter Springs to catch the train through Indian Territory into Texas had required that she and Molly travel light.

Getting a funny feeling in her stomach, Emma looked through the basket again, but didn’t find it. She stood, walking the length of the clothesline. Maybe it had blown away? But, if so, why hadn’t anything else? There were several things lighter than her stays and they had all managed to remain on the line.

“Emma, I’m taking in these peas,” Georgia called as she rose from the rocking chair. “Would you like me to get you anything?”

“No, thank you.” She thought about asking Georgia if she’d taken the corset, but why on earth would the other woman take it? Why would anyone? Besides, she and the other woman were nowhere close in size.

Emma was the one who’d been out here with the wash, yesterday and today. She was the one who should know whether or not she had everything. Last night, her employer had heard a noise. Could it have been a thief? A thief who’d stolen a corset? That was ridiculous. Emma couldn’t even fathom it.

A quick glance showed that Molly was still playing happily on her blanket, so Emma turned and walked the length of the clothesline again. She went into the henhouse, thinking that perhaps the undergarment had fallen and one of the birds had taken it. To use for a nest maybe? But, aside from straw, feathers and the eye-watering smell of ammonia, she found nothing.

Growing more perplexed and a little irritated, she came out, latching the door behind her. Keeping the baby in sight, Emma searched the side of the house, under the porch, shaded her eyes to look out over the knee-high golden-green prairie grass. She saw nothing. She had to find it. It was the only one she had. She couldn’t go around without a corset. It was improper, immodest. Brazen.

Reaching the porch, she grabbed the basket and set it in the rocking chair to dig through the pile of laundry again. Her search yielded nothing. Maybe a wild animal had taken off with it. Knowing that she might not find it made her suddenly, uncomfortably aware of her skin against the soft cotton of her chemise, the unbound freedom of her breasts. And that brought back the reminder of how Jake Ross had seen her in nothing but her nightclothes. How he’d looked at her. Oh, goodness. She had to find her corset.

She stepped off the porch, intent on searching every inch of ground. She circled the henhouse, made a wide sweep through the prairie grass behind it, but found nothing.

Muttering under her breath, she spun toward the house and came to a complete stop. Jake Ross stood at the corner of the porch with his head tilted and a quizzical look on his face. His holster hung low on his hips. How long had he been there? Good lands, he was a quiet-moving man. Heat flamed her cheeks. “You startled me.”

“Sorry. My horse threw a shoe so I came back for another one. Thought I heard someone back here. Is everything all right, Miz York?”

“Yes, certainly.” She adjusted her glasses.

His black eyes narrowed slightly. “You sure? You seem bothered.”

It would bother her more if she had to tell him. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t have to, did she? Nothing of his had been taken.

“You lose something?”

“No.” That wasn’t a lie. She knew exactly where she’d put it. It just wasn’t there.

He took a few steps toward her, his cowboy hat shading his eyes. “Is something missing?”

Why did he have to be back, anyway? she thought grumpily. Yesterday, he’d stayed gone until after dark.

He frowned. “Seeing as how I heard a noise out here last night, I’m starting to get concerned.”

And her not answering his questions was only making him more determined. “Did… Did you take anything off the clothesline last night or this morning?”

“Did someone make off with the laundry? If any of my property’s gone, Miz York, you’d best tell me.”

She shifted from one foot to the other. If she had another corset, she wouldn’t say anything about it. But she didn’t have another one. And she felt half-naked right now standing here talking to him without it.

“Listen, lady.” He took a step toward her, his gaze leveling into hers. “We had some outlaws making merry around Whirlwind not a year ago. They were known to steal clothes off lines—”

“Something’s gone, yes, but it isn’t yours.”

“Then whose? Yours?”

Embarrassment seared every inch of her, but she nodded.

“What’s gone?” Before she could answer, a slow awareness lit his eyes and his gaze slowly lowered to her breasts before returning to her face. His compelling features cautious, he cleared his throat, gesturing in her general direction. “Is it your…um, an undergarment?”

Before she could stop herself, her surprised gaze flew to his then away. How had he guessed that? She didn’t know what she would wear until she got another corset, but she would have to figure out something. She certainly had no money to buy one right now. Georgia might be willing to lend her one, but it would be too big. Even laced as tight as it would go.

Face burning, she started for the porch. His long legs covered the distance between them in two steps and he blocked her way. She stopped abruptly, stiffening.

“Miz York, I know it vexes you to talk about this. It sure as hell isn’t what I want to talk about, but you need to tell me.”

“I—I can’t.” She kept her gaze on his dusty boots.

For a moment, he didn’t speak, then he said in a gruff voice, “I sometimes serve as a deputy for the sheriff in Whirlwind.”

Emma’s stomach plummeted. A deputy? She thought she’d been so careful to avoid the law and now she was living with a sometime-lawman. What had she done?

This wasn’t the place for Molly. No, Emma corrected, quickly calming herself. It wasn’t the place for her, but it might be good for her sister. Mr. Ross’s being a lawman would be perfect for Molly.

“Over the last few months, there’s been a rash of thefts,” he said. “Farm equipment, jewelry, tools. And, lately, some things have been stolen off clotheslines. Women’s…things. Corsets.”

The word sounded rough on his tongue and a shiver rippled up her spine. Could he tell she wasn’t wearing one? She couldn’t bear the thought.

“Several women have had their…those stolen. I don’t know if the thefts are being committed by the same person, but you need to tell the sheriff.”

“Oh, no!” Her gaze flew to his. “I couldn’t! I can’t.”

It wasn’t just the humiliation of telling another man that her corset had been stolen. It was also that she needed to stay as far from Whirlwind’s sheriff as possible. If her stepfather or one of his men showed up looking for her, the sheriff would be their first stop.

Jake Ross studied the ground then glanced up. “I know it’s embarrassing for you, but we need to tell Davis Lee.” At her frown, he added, “Sheriff Holt.”

She could see he wasn’t going to let this go.

“He needs to know there’s been another theft.”

And now that Jake Ross knew, Emma would suffer anxiety every time she saw him.

She couldn’t believe she was discussing undergarments with a man. A man she’d just met. To whom she’d been lying since setting foot on his doorstep.

“Davis Lee’s discreet. You won’t need to worry about anyone finding out.”

That was slightly reassuring. “Has this happened before?”

“Not out here!”

“Are you going to tell—”

“I won’t say anything,” he said quickly. “To anyone.”

She believed him. “Thank you.”

After a moment, he said, “We should probably go today.”

We? “I’m sure I can manage the trip. I rode out here alone, after all.”

His eyes flashed hotly. “You’re not going alone. I don’t know where that thief is or if he’ll do something besides steal a woman’s—” He shifted uncomfortably as if his boots were too small. “I’m not sure if he’d do something more dangerous than steal.”

“But—”

“I’ll have the wagon ready after lunch.”

She nodded, knowing she couldn’t protest further. He’d certainly start to wonder why she was hesitant to face the sheriff. Drat it all!

He moved aside so she could step onto the porch. She bent to pick up the baby, aware that behind her he headed toward the clothesline.

As if it weren’t nerve-racking enough to talk to the sheriff, now she’d have to spend the rest of the day with Jake Ross.