Читать книгу The Hired Man - Lynna Banning, Lynna Banning - Страница 13
ОглавлениеCord knew she was watching his every move, assessing him, judging him. Eleanor resented his presence in her kitchen, rooting around in her pantry and in the cutlery drawers. But she wanted an apple pie, didn’t she? If there was one thing he’d learned in this life, it was that you don’t get something for nothing. No rooting around in a pantry, no apple pie.
He worked on, trying to ignore her, and trying to ignore the undercurrent of pleasure he felt knowing that her eyes were following every move he made. It made his chest feel as hot inside as he felt outside in the stifling kitchen with the roaring fire in the stove heating up the oven.
While the pies baked, the children drifted out the back door to play in the yard and Cord warmed up the coffee, poured two cups and carried them into the parlor, where Eleanor sat.
She looked up at him with a strange expression on her pale face. He sucked in his breath and waited.
“You’re not just a hired man, are you?” she said. “I mean, that’s not what you did before I hired you, is it?”
“I’m a hired man here,” he said carefully. “I’m not sure what I’d be somewhere else.”
She reached for his offered cup of coffee, then glanced up again. “Do you have plans for ‘somewhere else’?”
He gave her such a long look that she lowered her eyes.
“I was planning to go to California, to the gold fields.”
“What stopped you?”
He didn’t answer for a long time, just focused his gaze out the window on the apple orchard. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have stopped here if I hadn’t been so hungry, even though I’d seen your advert in town. But then I came up on that little hill and saw all those apple trees covered with lacy white blossoms. Kinda made my heart feel funny, so I stopped and...well, you know the rest.”
She paused with her cup halfway to her mouth. “How long will you stay?”
“It’s April now,” he said slowly. “I thought I’d give it five months, say ’til August, before I move on.”
“Very good. Doc Dougherty tells me I should be completely well and strong long before August.”
“Yeah? You gonna chop wood and hitch up the horse and drive that wagon to town and muck out your barn by yourself? You need some help out here, ma’am. Even if I’m not going to be here, you should have a hired man to help out.”
She gave him a half smile and sipped her coffee for a full minute before she spoke. “I chopped wood and mucked out the barn before I fell ill, Mr. Winterman. I have been on my own here for almost seven years, ever since Molly was born.”
Cord studied her. Her cheeks were getting pink. “It’s too hard for a woman alone. That’s most likely why you got sick.”
“That is pure nonsense. I got sick because I fell in the creek while I was chasing the cow and took a chill. A week later it turned into pneumonia.”
He stood up suddenly. Dammit, he didn’t want to concern himself with her well-being. He didn’t want to like her kids, and he didn’t want to like her. But he did. And he had to admit it scared the hell out of him.
“Think I’ll check on the pies,” he growled. He moved into the kitchen and bent over the oven door, and when he returned he brought the coffeepot and filled her cup. He didn’t look at her. But he did ask the question that had been niggling in the back of his mind.
“Do you and your husband own this place free and clear?”
“I own it. I removed Tom’s name from the deed when he...when he left home to go off to war. It’s been seven years now, and he is considered legally dead.”
“You said you had a hired man before you hired me.”
“Yes. Isaiah. As I told you, he didn’t do much.”
“Why’d you keep him, then?”
“He needed a place to stay and I needed someone to help about the farm. Molly was just a baby then, and Danny was too little to be much help.”
“How’d you manage after this hired man, Isaiah, left?”
“I managed,” she said in a quiet voice.
“And then you got sick,” he observed dryly.
She took a swallow of her coffee. “Well, yes I did. Doc Dougherty came, and he sent a woman out from town, Helen, I think her name was, to nurse me and take care of Molly and Daniel. She stayed until I was strong enough to get out of bed. I am growing stronger with every day that passes.”
“Mrs. Malloy. Eleanor,” he amended. “Seems to me you’re just hangin’ on by a thread. You’ve got two kids. You owe it to them to take better care of yourself. That means no more milking and no chopping wood.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line but said nothing.
Cord studied the rigid set of her shoulders and the white-knuckled grip she had on the handle of her china cup. “I get the feeling you don’t take orders too well.”
She gave him a wobbly smile. “You are most likely correct. I was a great trial to my parents.”
That made him laugh out loud. “I bet you’re still plenty stubborn when it comes to doing things your own way.”
“Oh, maybe just a little.” Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of rose.
“Maybe you’re more than a little stubborn,” he said. “Maybe a lot stubborn.”
“Oh, all right, maybe I’m a lot stubborn.” By now her cheeks were flushed scarlet. “Now that you’re here, I will take better care of myself. Especially,” she said with a little bubble of laughter, “since you can bake an apple pie. Which,” she added with an impish grin, “you have quite forgotten is still in the oven.”
Instantly he wheeled away from her and strode into the kitchen. The pies were not burned, as he had feared, just nicely baked. He grabbed potholders and lifted them out of the oven. Oh, man, they looked just right, golden brown on top with rich juice bubbling out the vents he’d slashed in the crust. They smelled wonderful! He was damn proud of them.
Eleanor followed him into the kitchen, cup and saucer still in her hand. “Who taught you to make a pie? Your mother?”
“No,” he said shortly.
She looked at him with another question in her eyes, but he ignored it. Best not to dig around in those long-past years. No good ever came from opening a wound that had healed over.
He set both pies on the open windowsill to cool and stacked the mixing bowl and the paring knives in the sink for the kids to wash up after supper. Eleanor returned to the parlor, where she curled up on the settee and gazed out the front window.
“You don’t like talking to me, do you?” she asked suddenly.
Whoa, Nelly. How’d she figure that?
“Why is that?” she pursued, her eyes on his face.
“Guess I haven’t been around many ladies lately.”
“Silence is perfectly all right with me,” she went on. “I spent years and years not being talked to.”
She closed her eyes against the late-afternoon sun’s glare, and that gave him a chance to really look at her. Her lids were purplish with blue-black smudges shadowing her eyes. She might not be sick anymore, but she was obviously exhausted.
So even if she was as stubborn as three ornery mules, now she had a hired man to help her. He drew in a long, quiet breath. For the first time in longer than he could remember he felt needed.
And that, he thought with a silent groan, made him nervous.
* * *
The kids raced through their supper of biscuits and something Eleanor called bean stew, which as near as he could figure out was last night’s baked beans with cut-up carrots and potatoes added. Tasted good, though.
His apple pie was received with oohs and aahs. Even Eleanor wanted a second piece.
“Ma, Miz Panovsky says we’re gonna have Student Night at school on Saturday.”
Eleanor looked up from the table. “Oh?”
“You gonna come? You were too sick the last time.”
“Well, yes,” she said quickly. “Of course I’m going to come, Danny. I’m much stronger now.”
Cord thought the boy looked somewhat unsettled at that.
“What about me?” Molly wailed. “When do I get to go to school?”
“As soon as you’re big enough, honey.”
“But I’m big now!”
“Molly, you’re still too young to walk three miles to town and then three miles back home, and you’re too little to ride a horse.”
Her face scrunched up. “When will I be big enough?”
Cord stood up suddenly. “How ’bout I measure you, see how tall you are? We can make a mark on the back door frame.” He sent Eleanor an inquiring look, and she nodded.
“Then later I’ll measure you again, and you can see how much you’ve grown. How about it?”
Molly’s eyes sparkled. “Can we do it right now?”
“Sure.” He caught Eleanor’s eye. “You got a tape measure handy?”
“It’s upstairs in my bedroom. But—”
“I’ll get it,” Cord said. Eleanor had looked peaked all afternoon and during supper she’d seemed short of breath. “Where is it, exactly?”
“It’s in my top dresser drawer. Molly can show you, but she’s too short to reach it.”
Cord followed the girl as she scampered up the stairs. He’d been in Eleanor’s bedroom only once, the day she’d almost fainted and he’d carried her upstairs.
Molly banged the door open and streaked toward the walnut chest standing against the far wall. “Up there.” She pointed to the top drawer.
Something about being here made him nervous. Too private, maybe? Too...female?
Carefully he pulled the drawer open. Her possessions were all neatly arranged, lacy handkerchiefs, a red knit hat and two blue silky-looking scarves. No jewelry, he noted. He wanted in the worst way to open the second drawer. Maybe he’d find some of her smallclothes, drawers or chemises, or a sheer nightgown. Nah. Eleanor wouldn’t wear a sheer nightgown.
Or would she?
Concentrate on the tape measure, man.
He gingerly laid one finger on the tumble of scarves and pushed one aside, looking for the tape. But what he uncovered instead was a framed daguerreotype. A man and a woman, apparently on their wedding day. A long veil fell below her slim shoulders. She was not smiling.
His gut clenched. What made a woman not smile on her wedding day? He wished he hadn’t seen it.
Molly danced at his side. “Didja find it?”
He pushed the photograph to one side and there underneath it lay a neatly coiled measuring tape. “Got it.” Reluctantly he pushed the drawer shut.
Molly darted out the door and down the stairs. “Measure me! Measure me!”
While Eleanor and Danny washed up the supper dishes, Cord lined Molly up against the door frame and made a pencil mark for her height. “You’re thirty-two inches tall,” he announced.
“Now do me,” Danny insisted. He dried his hands on the dish towel, marched to the back door and stood at attention. Cord dutifully marked his height and turned to Eleanor.
“How tall are you, Miz Malloy?”
“Why, I have no idea.”
“Shall I measure you?”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Aw, come on, Ma, do it!” Danny ordered.
Obediently Eleanor moved to the back door and straightened her spine against the frame. She sent him a self-conscious look and closed her eyes.
Closed her eyes? Why in hell would she close her eyes?
He snapped the length of measuring tape in his two hands, moved toward her and stopped. He couldn’t lay the tape against Eleanor’s body. He didn’t trust his hands anywhere near her. They were already shaking and he wasn’t anywhere close to her.
“You’d better hurry up, Cord,” she said. “You and Molly have to dry the dishes.”
He swallowed. “Right. Open your eyes and turn around, Eleanor. Face the door and put your nose right up against the wood.”
She obeyed, and he ran the tape from the back of her work boot, over the curve of her hip and along her upper spine to the top of her head. “Okay, now step away.”
She ducked under his hand and moved back a step while he made a pencil mark on the door frame. Next to it he inscribed her initials. E.M.
“Now you!” Danny insisted.
Before he could refuse, Eleanor snatched the tape measure out of his hand. “Stand up against the door,” she ordered.
“Front or back?” he asked. Wait a minute. The thought of her touching him anywhere near his groin was unnerving. He turned toward the door and put his back to her.
He felt her touch his ankle, felt the tape slide along the back of his jeans and then over his butt. He stopped breathing.
Then her hand skimmed up his spine to his neck, and he couldn’t help the shiver that shook him.
Suddenly she stopped. “The tape measure’s not long enough,” she announced.
Cord said a silent prayer of thanks. Her every touch was arousing. Actually, he didn’t dare turn around just yet because his groin was engorged and...well...active.
“How tall is Cord?” Molly asked.
“Over six feet,” Eleanor said.
“Golly,” Danny breathed. “Do you think I’ll be that tall when I’m all growed up?”
Eleanor wound the tape into a tight coil and slipped it into her apron pocket. “I don’t think so, Danny. Your father was...” She stopped abruptly. “Shorter than Cord,” she continued. “So chances are you will be—”
“Tall enough,” Cord interrupted. “Tall enough to be a really good rider.”
The boy’s gray-blue eyes widened. “Really honest?”
“Yeah, really honest.” He caught Eleanor’s gaze. She was shaking her head no.
“I don’t want Danny riding a horse yet. There’s been no one to teach him, and besides, he’s too young.”
Cord stepped away from the doorway and surreptitiously adjusted his jeans. “He’s not too young, Eleanor. I’ve been riding since I was five years old.”
She bit her lip. “I still don’t think—”
“Please, Ma?” Danny yelped. “I’ll do all the dishes every night for a month, I promise.”
Cord laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. Then he turned to Molly.
“Come on, Molly. I guess it’s up to us to dry the supper dishes.”
