Читать книгу The Marshal's Promise - Rhonda Gibson - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Seth strolled out of the Millers’ store with a frown on his face. Mrs. Miller had been happy to inform him that Rebecca had moved from their residence and into Mrs. Kelly’s. She’d also given him the bill for the supplies Rebecca had had delivered to his house two hours earlier. He shook his head. Miss Ramsey had been busy, but what had he expected?

His boots kicked up dust as he walked toward his new home. That she’d be looking for the remainder of the stolen money and diamonds? He pushed the thought of stolen money and diamonds from his mind.

Would she be waiting for him when he got there? Seth’s emotions warred with his reasoning. He wanted her to be there waiting with a hot meal, and then again he didn’t want her to be there. The thought of her cooking at his stove, setting his table and smiling across it at him tugged at his heart. He reminded himself that he couldn’t get romantically involved with her. Besides, he’d killed Jesse and when she learned that she’d never forgive him.

In a quiet, firm voice, Seth spoke to himself. “I am a U.S. Marshal. I have no business thinking about her that way.” Maybe speaking the words out loud would convince his heart it was true.

He slowly climbed the steps to his house. Seth took a deep breath and opened the door. The smell of green chili stew filled his nostrils and his stomach growled its appreciation of the welcoming aroma. Expecting to find Rebecca at the stove, he squared his shoulders and entered the kitchen. Only, she wasn’t there.

Disappointment and relief washed through him. He released the air in his lungs and turned to look in the bedrooms for her. After a quick inspection, Seth realized he was alone in the small house. He followed his nose back to the kitchen.

His gaze moved around the room. She’d moved things around. A white cabinet with two drawers now sat beside the stove. A washtub sat on top of it. She’d hung a small shelf above the cabinet and several bottles containing spices set on top of that. The large cupboard now stood against the wall and held all his new dishes. The kitchen table and four chairs sat in the center of the room and in front of the cupboard. The potato bin stood beside the window on the other side of the room. Sheer curtains covered the window and the table had a crisp, clean cloth draped over the dark wood that matched the curtains. How had she done it? In just a few short hours she’d turned his kitchen into a cozy place to eat.

He picked up a bowl and walked to the stove, where a pot of stew, a skillet with a stack of homemade tortillas and a coffeepot were warming. Instinctively Seth reached to the closest drawer in the white cabinet and pulled it open. His gaze landed on a large ladle. He grabbed its handle and dipped the cupped end into the stew. The aroma of meat and green chili teased his nose.

Seth located more utensils in the cabinet and then carried his meal back to the table. He pulled out a chair and was almost seated when a knock sounded on the front door. His gaze went to the door and then back to his bowl. The desire to ignore the summons tugged at him. The knock came again. He sighed and walked to the door.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Seth, but I was wondering if I might have a few minutes of your time.”

He pulled the door open wider. “Well, sure, Reverend Griffin. Please do come in.” Seth stepped farther back into the room. It was amazing how fast the reverend had located him. “I didn’t realize you were in town.”

“Only been here a few hours.” The reverend smoothed his mustache over his top lip.

“Would you like some supper?” Seth asked, leading the way to the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I just ate over at the diner.”

Seth stopped and turned to face him. “Oh, would you rather sit in the sitting room to talk?”

“No, I don’t want to keep you from your supper. We can chat at the table.”

Seth nodded and continued on to the kitchen. He poured each of them a cup of coffee and then sat. “What brings you here?”

Reverend Griffin pulled out a chair across from him. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you tell me about you and Miss Ramsey?” He picked up his cup and held it his hands.

“There’s nothing to tell. She needed a job and I gave her one.”

The reverend looked him straight in the eyes and demanded, “Doing what?”

He took a deep breath and folded a tortilla in half. If it were any other man, he’d tell him it was none of his business, but since James Griffin was a man of God, Seth decided it would be best just to answer. “She cooks and cleans for me.”

“That’s all?” He arched an eyebrow and studied Seth over the rim of his cup.

Savory stew and spicy flavors coated Seth’s tongue. He had to swallow before answering the minister. “No, she also agreed to do my laundry once a week. Why all the questions, Reverend?”

James set his cup down. “It’s like this, son. The ladies think it isn’t decent for a young woman to be here with you alone.”

Seth sighed. “Reverend, Miss Ramsey isn’t living here with me. She’s coming in every morning, while I’m working, to cook and clean. She wasn’t here this evening when I came home. So I don’t see what they are upset about. And, if it bothers them so much, why didn’t one of them offer to be her chaperone?”

James laughed. “You better be careful what you ask for, Marshal. I can just see Mrs. Walker and her group of friends doing just that. Now, let me get this straight. You won’t be home when she’s here?”

Seth pushed his bowl back. All his interest in food was gone. “I can’t guarantee that, Reverend. There may be times we are both here.”

James frowned. “I see.”

“But I give you my word, on those occasions Miss Ramsey will be safe with me.”

The two men studied each other. Finally the minister smiled and pushed back his chair. “Then that’s good enough for me.” He walked to the door and Seth followed.

“I’ll see you on Sunday, Reverend.” Seth stopped in the doorway.

They shook hands and then the minister left.

Seth closed the door and looked about. The sitting room had been dusted and swept. Thanks to his promises, Rebecca now worked for him and the town gossips had started to spread their poison.

* * *

Rebecca gathered her basket of applesauce-oatmeal muffins and headed out the door. She stopped on the sidewalk and enjoyed the crisp morning breeze. Mr. Watson entered the newspaper office. He waved at her before shutting the door.

The sound of skipping feet caught her attention and she turned to see Grace Miller skipping toward her. “Hi, Miss Rebecca.”

“Well, good morning, Grace. Off to school this morning?” she asked.

Grace held a lunch pail in one hand and a book in another. “Yeah, Ma makes me leave early every morning. I end up there way before the other kids. Where are you going?” She tugged at the long brown braid that had landed on her shoulder when she’d stopped skipping.

Rebecca tried to remember if Grace had left early the mornings she’d been staying at the Millers’ house. After a few moments, she gave up. “I am headed to work.” Rebecca started to walk down the sidewalk. She liked the idea that she had a job now and didn’t have to rely on someone else to take care of her.

“At the marshal’s house?”

“Yes, at the marshal’s house.”

Grace walked along beside her. “Mama says you are lucky he needed someone ’cause there isn’t no work here.”

“Because there isn’t any work here,” she automatically corrected.

Grace frowned up at her. “That is what I said.”

Rebecca laughed and continued walking. She was in too good a mood to press the matter further. Grace skipped along beside her.

“Your mother is right. I feel very blessed.” Rebecca tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. If it hadn’t been for the marshal, she’d have had to go home. The last place she wanted to go.

“Can I go with you to the marshal’s house? I don’t want to go to school yet.” Grace stopped in front of the diner and looked up the hill at the school.

The smell of bacon and eggs drifted to them as the town banker opened the diner door and walked out. “Excuse me, ladies.” He tipped his hat at them and then continued on down the sidewalk.

“Yes, as long as you’re sure your mother doesn’t mind.”

Grace smiled. “She said she doesn’t mind as long as I get to school on time.”

Rebecca frowned. Had Mrs. Miller planned on Grace going with her to Seth’s house? That’s the way it sounded, but then again, children often maneuvered things around to fit what they wanted to do. Besides, what difference would it make as long as Grace got to school on time? “Well, then, let’s go.”

They arrived and Rebecca knocked on the door. Grace shifted from foot to foot as they waited. Seth opened the door. He stood before them with wet hair and stocking feet. The brown curls coiled about his white collar and Rebecca itched to reach out and touch the damp strands.

“Good morning,” she said in a soft voice.

Grace looked up at her. The young girl tilted her head as if to study Rebecca’s face further. The expression in her eyes said she knew something was wrong but wasn’t sure what.

Rebecca cleared her throat and said a little more forcefully, “Good morning, Marshal.”

He smiled at Grace. “I see you brought a chaperone this morning.”

“I’m not a chaperone. I’m Grace Miller.” The nine-year-old stood up taller as if to remind him of who she was.

“So you are.” He tugged her braid.

Rebecca pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “May we come in?”

Seth opened the door farther and Grace slid around him. He looked into Rebecca’s eyes and smiled. The dimple in his left cheek winked. “Sure, come on in.”

He inhaled as she walked past. “What’s in the basket?”

“Applesauce-oatmeal muffins. My mother’s recipe.” Rebecca walked past him and headed for the kitchen. “I thought you might like them with a hot cup of coffee for breakfast.”

“Sounds wonderful,” he answered, following close behind.

Her mother used to say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Rebecca hadn’t thought of that in a long time. She made the coffee and listened to Grace and Seth talk about school and the spelling test that Grace was dreading.

She put the muffins on the table and got down three small plates. Next, she poured herself and Seth coffee. “Would you like a glass of milk, Grace?”

“If you have it,” the little girl answered politely.

“I do. I’ll be right back.” Rebecca went out to the well and pulled on a long rope. The evening before, she’d tied a mason jar filled with milk to one end of the rope and lowered it into the cold water below.

She returned a few minutes later to find both Grace and Seth munching on the muffins.

“These are very good.” Seth indicated the muffin in his hand and then sipped his coffee.

Rebecca smiled. “Thank you. I never think they taste as good as when Mother made them.” She poured the milk for Grace and set the glass down beside her.

“Thanks, Miss Rebecca.” She picked it up and gulped it down. “Oh, it’s so cold!”

“That’s because it just came out of the well.” Rebecca sat down and picked up one of the muffins. She bit into the sweetness and sighed. They were good, but like she’d said earlier, not as good as her mother’s. The brown sugar and oatmeal topping didn’t taste as sweet.

“May I have another one, Miss Rebecca?” Grace was already reaching toward the bowl.

“Of course you can.” Rebecca licked the sugary sweetness from her lips. She looked up to see Seth watching her. Tingling heat filled her face.

He pushed his chair back. “If you ladies will excuse me, I need to get to work.”

Rebecca followed him to the door. “Is there anything special you want me to do today?” she asked as he stepped out onto the porch.

“Just do what I’m paying you to do, and don’t expect anything more from me.” He stomped off around the house. Rebecca knew the barn was behind the house and figured he was going after his horse.

Grace came to stand beside her. “What did he mean by that?”

Rebecca shook her head. “I have no idea.” The man seemed as skittish as a mother deer with a new fawn, another good reason to stay away from him. She knew opening her heart to a man like him would only lead to heartbreak.