Blackstone's Bride (15 page)

“In addition to the freight office, I sometimes get work in the boardinghouse, and the mercantile. Sometimes even in the Watering Hole.”

“The saloon?” His voice rose a notch as outrage set in.

She nodded. “Just cleaning up. And only if I really need the money.”

He didn’t like the idea of her working there at all, not for any amount of money. The idea of her anywhere near those drunken cowboys with wandering hands made him mad as hell. “That’s no place for you.”

“Who do you think you are, telling me where I can or cannot earn a decent wage?”

“The saloon isn’t fit for a woman. You’d be better off on the ranch. I’ll pay you more than you’re making here in town.”

His hopes died when she stubbornly shook her head and he saw the angry glint in her eyes. “I don’t think so, Jarrod.”

“Then I guess my only alternative is to check into boarding schools.”

She sniffed. “You won’t send those kids away.”

“How do you know?”

“The look on your face when you saw them with me in the restaurant last night.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You were worried sick. I think that showed you how much you care about them. It’s a good bluff, but there’s no way on God’s green earth you’re going to send them away.”

He hated that she was right. Again. He threw up his hands. “Okay. You win. Boarding school is out of the question. Won’t you reconsider?”

“There’s no way I can work for you.”

He frowned. “What aren’t you telling me? Spit it out.”

She looked down at her boots for a moment, then met his gaze. “Have you thought about the gossip? A man and woman living under the same roof without benefit of vows? What would folks say?”

“I’d stay in the bunkhouse. Besides, since when are you so concerned about what folks say?” He decided to toss her a challenge. “Nita Gibson was willing to risk it.”

Her mouth thinned. “So hire her.”

He moved beside her, near enough to see the dark blue ring around the pupil of her eyes, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin and smell the womanly scent of her.

“Dammit, Abby, the kids don’t want her. They want you. And so do I.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, because I know how much you care about them.”

“No.” She shook her head and backed up a step as the pulse in her throat fluttered. “It’s not that simple. Here in town there are more opportunities for me to earn money. The ranch is just too far from everything.”

She wasn’t the first woman to tell him that, he thought bitterly. He should have known. Her life was in town; the ranch was too isolated. He nodded grimly and backed away.

“I’m sorry, Jarrod.”

“Forget it. I won’t bother you again.”

“You didn’t bother me.”

“Good-bye, Abby. I’m taking the kids back to the ranch.” He turned and started down the alley between the freight company and the mercantile.

“Jarrod, wait—”

He didn’t stop or look back.

Abby sat on her bed in the boardinghouse. It was way past dinnertime, but she wasn’t hungry. The sun had set several hours before, but she didn’t light the lantern on the bedside table. She just stared out her open window as the curtains moved in the cool breeze drifting through.

Tears lurked dangerously close behind her aching eyes. Jarrod had hired a wagon and left Hollister with the children.
She had waved to them on their way out of town, but only Katie waved back.

After finishing work, she’d gone straight to her room. She had done the right thing. Turning down his offer was best for everyone, especially the children. She just hadn’t realized how much saying no would hurt.

A knock sounded on her door. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, so she kept quiet.

There was another knock, louder this time. “Abby, we know you’re in there.”

We? The voice belonged to Henrietta, but who was with her?

“Abby?” That was Bea Peters. “Let us in, child. We want to talk to you.”

Abby kept quiet, hoping they would go away. A person was entitled to a little privacy. Several moments passed and she thought she heard the sound of retreating footsteps. She sat up straighter, listening carefully.

“Abigail Miller, you open this door right now.” Bea Peters’s stern voice came through the wood. Probably carried out onto Main Street too, Abby thought. “Quit pouting and open this door. If you don’t, we’ll shout through it, loud enough for everyone to hear.”

Pouting? She did
not
pout!

Abby bounced off the bed and unlocked the door. “I’m not in the mood to talk right now.” She looked up at Bea, then down at Henrietta. “Would you mind leaving me alone?”

“Yes, we would mind.” Bea brushed past her into the room and went straight to the lantern. She lit the wick, then dropped the glass chimney to protect the flame and send light dancing through the room.

Abby blinked at the brightness. “Then say what’s on your mind. I’m tired. I want to get some sleep.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re upset.”

Henrietta stepped into the room. “You didn’t come down for supper. Never known you to miss a meal.”

“What’s wrong, Abby?” Bea asked.

“You tell me. You seem to know what’s going on around here.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady,” Bea huffed. “Obviously you’re annoyed with me. Stop acting like a spoiled child and tell me what’s wrong.”

Abby put her hands on her hips. “All right. I’m angry because you’ve been meddling in my life.”

“You know about the children’s plan?”

She glared at the older woman. “They had some help, Bea. Why didn’t you tell me what they were up to?”

“It’s complicated,” she said.

“You let me walk all over this town, talking to everyone I could think of, knowing that those children wouldn’t approve of anyone.”

“They’re very fond of you, my dear,” Bea said kindly. “Did Jarrod ask you to take the job?”

“Yes. I had to turn him down.”

Henrietta sighed loudly. “I don’t understand you, Abby. Fine-lookin’ man like that offers you a good job and you turn him down flat.”

Bea pushed the spectacles up on her nose. “That’s why the children and I came up with this plot in the first place. They wanted you and were prepared to do anything to get you. I had my own reasons for helping.”

“How would it help if no one took the job?” Abby asked.

“We decided if Jarrod found out he couldn’t get anyone else, he would ask you and you would say yes.”

“And you were in on this.” She looked from one to the other. “You two are unbelievable.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Henrietta asked.

Abby sighed. “I can’t understand how you let that man turn your heads, just because his looks—”

“Wouldn’t strip paint from the side of a barn?”

Henrietta offered helpfully.

“There!” Abby pointed at her. “You can’t see anything but—”

“The way he fills out a pair of jeans?” Bea said, her eyes twinkling.

“I’m shocked at both of you,” Abby said, but now she was having trouble staying mad at these two man-hungry meddlers.

Bea stared sternly at her. “Abigail Miller, you look me straight in the eye and tell me you aren’t the least bit attracted to Jarrod Blackstone.” She wagged her finger. “Don’t you fib, young lady. I could always tell when you were fibbing.”

“Well …”

Henrietta grinned. “Tell me when you’re around him your skin doesn’t feel hot. Haven’t you ever felt that way?”

“Yes,” Abby admitted. “But I just figured it was the start of a bad case of poison oak.”

“You’re fibbing,” Bea said.

Abby threw her hands up in the air. “All right. I think he’s nice.”

“Nice?” Henrietta asked. “Earl Whittemore is nice, but he wouldn’t be my first choice for a buggy ride in the moonlight. But Jarrod …” She smiled.

“All right. You win. I did notice that he’s not hard on the eyes. But I still can’t accept the job.”

Bea’s eyes narrowed. “It’s precisely because you’re attracted to him that you won’t take it. Isn’t that right, Abby?”

“Partly, I guess. But you both know I have plans. It wouldn’t be fair to him, or the kids, for me to take the job. It would be dishonest, and they’ve been through too much for me to do that to them.”

Bea sighed. “When are you going to give up this foolish notion about finding your father? You’re not getting any younger, Abby. It’s time to get on with your life.”

“It’s not foolish. Why, just last month I got a letter from him.”

“And how long has it been since the one before that?”

Henrietta asked.

“A year. Maybe a year and a half,” Abby guessed.

“It’s been at least two and you know it.”

Abby winced. She didn’t know anyone else had noticed.
What she didn’t tell them was that she’d been just about ready to give up. That last letter had renewed her determination to find him.

“Does he have an address yet?” Bea asked.

“No. It was from San Francisco, a post office box. He said he’s still moving around and that’s the best way to contact him. He always checks his mail when he’s in town. He said he thinks this new job will work out. He’s planning to save some money. That means he’s putting down roots. When he does, we can be together again.”

“He hasn’t asked you to join him?” Bea asked.

Abby looked down. “Not yet. But he will. Things are looking up for him.”

“Child, I remember the day after he left you. You walked into my school and I knew there was something wrong. You kept saying over and over that he would come back. It’s been thirteen years. You have to face the fact that he’s gone for good.”

“Bea’s right,” Henrietta said. “It’s time to put that behind you.”

Abby knew they meant well, but that didn’t stop the anger that welled up inside her and spilled over. “It’s none of your business. Either of you,” she said, glaring at them.

Bea huffed. “I’m an old woman who cares about you.”

“Me too, child.” Henrietta met Abby’s gaze. “I mean that it’s my business because I care. Not that I’m old.”

Bea glared at the other woman. “What Hen is trying to say is that we’ll meddle whenever necessary, if we think it’s for your own good.”

It was obvious that she couldn’t stop them, and Abby let go of her irritation. “It’s over. Let’s forget about it.”

Henrietta smiled. “You must be starved. Why don’t you come down to the kitchen and I’ll fix you a plate of stew. I think there’s some biscuits left over too. ‘Less Joe got into ‘em. I swear that boy never fills up.”

Abby’s mouth watered at the mention of food. Henrietta made the best stew in the whole world.

“All right. I’ll come down.” She pointed a finger at each
of them. “I want a promise from you. No more interfering. Deal?”

“Absolutely,” Bea said.

Henrietta nodded.

“Are you looking for your temper again, Uncle Jarrod?”

Katie stood on the other side of the tub, resting her elbows on the brass rim as she regarded him solemnly.

“No, Katie. I’m not ready to look for it yet.”

Oliver stuck a soapy thumb in his mouth. He was in the bubble-filled tub. It struck Jarrod that he might as well have been in there with Oliver. He was wet from the waist up after two hair washings and one body scrubbing. He was getting ready for the second.

Oliver had taken it into his head to be a cowboy. He had wanted to help them with the branding, like Tom, and everyone had ignored him. He decided he’d just do it his way. After rustling around in the barn, he’d proceeded to brand everything in sight that he could get his hands on. With white paint.

It was in the corral and on the fence, the chickens, the horses in the barn. He was damn lucky one of the animals hadn’t hurt him. The stuff was everywhere, including Oliver. In his hair, on his face, hands, and arms, his clothes. Fortunately, he hadn’t gotten to the house before Jarrod noticed what he was up to.

It had been two weeks since Abby had refused his job offer. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he’d followed the kids to Hollister. He had to do the work of two men during the day, then take care of the kids at night. There weren’t enough hours in the day to do what needed doing when things went smoothly. Now this, he thought, slamming the sponge into the soapy water. Both children jumped and their eyes grew wide.

He had definitely lost his temper. And he wasn’t ready to look for it.

“Katie, where’s Lily?” he asked.

The little girl shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Look for her. I need her help.” When the little girl hesitated, he added, “Please.”

“I’ll help, Uncle Jarrod.”

“You’re not quite big enough for this job. You can help me by fetching Lily. Will you see if you can find her?”

She nodded and her blond curls bounced around her head. “I’ll be back.”

Jarrod looked down at Oliver. His hair was wet and slicked back. He’d soaped it twice and there was still white paint visible in the wet, dark blond strands. It might just have to grow out, he thought grimly.

Since Jarrod had discovered Oliver branding the side of the barn and hollered for him to stop, the boy hadn’t looked at him. After seeing the far-reaching effects of Oliver’s endeavor, Jarrod hadn’t trusted himself to speak. He was beginning to cool off now.

He plucked the sponge floating in the murky water. After soaping it good, he said, “Oliver, you have to take your thumb out of your mouth so I can wash your arm.”

He did, but continued to look down.

The one thing Jarrod hated about finding his temper was facing the results of his behavior after he’d lost it. He didn’t worry about it with Gib and the hired hands. It was part of the job, went with the territory. But the kids were a horse of a different color. He had a right and a responsibility to teach the kids right from wrong, to show them when they’d done something bad. But how the hell did he smooth things over without undoing the lesson?

He sure as hell couldn’t do it if he didn’t say something to the boy. “Oliver, do you know why I wouldn’t let you help with the branding?”

He shook his head.

“Did you see the fire, and how the irons in it turned red-hot?” Oliver nodded, and he continued. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, those can hurt you real bad. Gib, Dusty, Slim, and I have all been doing that for a lot of years. We work together. We know how to do the job without getting hurt. Do you understand what I’m saying?”