Love Inspired Historical January 2015 Box Set: Wolf Creek Father\Cowboy Seeks a Bride\Falling for the Enemy\Accidental Fiancee (40 page)

“Hello, Rand.” Mrs. Foster emerged from the house wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Will you stay for supper?”

“No, thank you, ma'am. I need to get back to the ranch.” He brushed a kiss over Marybeth's cheek. “And I need to speak to the reverend on my way out of town. Why don't I deliver his supper to him?”

Disappointed to see their conversation end, Marybeth had no choice but to let him go. The rest of her story would have to wait for another day. Maybe. She'd never spoken so honestly with anyone before, and she wasn't sure she'd have the courage to take that last step of truthfulness and confess she'd never really planned to marry Rand. It was one piece of information Colonel Northam wouldn't have found out because she'd never told anyone. What would the Northams think of her then? What would Rand think of her?

* * *

After washing the supper dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, Marybeth sat at Mrs. Foster's piano and practiced a few of her favorite hymns. She also tried some new ones. Her landlady sat nearby in an overstuffed chair, busy with her knitting. On the top of the piano, Pepper, the black-and-white cat, lounged indifferently, his eyes occasionally straying in Polly's direction. From her spot on the floor by Mrs. Foster, Polly also eyed the cat. The moment the puppy had entered the house, she'd made it clear she expected to be in charge. Pepper, being a rather docile feline, had objected to the idea only briefly before realizing his ability to climb out of reach made him impervious to Polly's aggression. Marybeth thought for certain she saw a smirk on the cat's face.

After only a week and a few days of living here, she'd come to love this homey scene each evening. With the added amusement of the animals, she thought she could live this way forever. That was, after she found Jimmy. Of course she wouldn't mind visits from Rand, and the more the better. But she wouldn't keep him from courting other girls once she told him of her determination to remain unattached. The thought caused a stew in her stomach that had nothing to do with Mrs. Foster's fine cooking.

She turned the pages of the hymnal and found a song she didn't know so she could practice her sight reading. Before her fingers touched the keys, a knock sounded on the front door.

“I'll go.” If it was Mr. Hardison, she'd simply have to tell him she would prefer not to receive him. If he truly was a gentleman, he would accept her decision.

Through the etched-glass window in the door, she made out the figure of Mr. Means. Even though the porch was deeply shadowed, Marybeth could see a bouquet of red roses in one hand, his hat in the other, and her heart sank. She had to let him in. How could she refuse to see him and still keep her job? Opening the door, she pasted on her most professional smile, though this clearly was not a business call.

“Good evening, Mr. Means. What a surprise.” She stood back so he could enter. “Do come in.”

“Thank you, Miss O'Brien.” As he had earlier, he seemed a bit awkward, almost charmingly so. How could a wealthy, nice-looking young man be so unsure of himself? “I hope you will not mind my calling at this hour, but my gardener just cut these roses, and I thought of you.”

“Oh, how nice. But you shouldn't have.” Really, really shouldn't have. He knew she'd come to Esperanza as Rand's supposed bride. Had he seen her reticence to set a date and decided to court her himself?

Polly ambled over and sniffed Mr. Means's shoes and pant legs, causing Marybeth no end of concern. But the gentleman reached down and let her sniff his hand.

“Hey, there, little boy. What a fine little fellow you are.” He ruffled her fur and patted her head.

Unfazed by his mistake regarding her gender, Polly licked his hand.

“Please join us in the parlor.” Marybeth waved a hand in that direction. “I'll get us some tea. Or coffee, if you prefer.”

“Tea, please.” He hung his hat on the hall tree and followed her into the room.

Mrs. Foster bustled over to greet him, even as she questioned Marybeth with a look. “I'll get a vase and the tea. You youngsters sit down.” She took the roses and disappeared through the dining room door.

Marybeth chose a chair rather than the settee, and Polly settled on the floor beside her. “It was very thoughtful of you to bring the roses. Their fragrance will fill the house.”

“Yes, it will.” He tugged at his collar and glanced around the room as if looking for something to talk about. “When did you get the dog?”

“Rand gave her to me yesterday.”

“Rand. Of course. And it is a female. My mistake.” He smiled at Polly and said no more.

Marybeth knew it was her place to keep the conversation going, but what on earth should she say to him? Mrs. Foster rescued them both by coming back with the tea tray.

“Now, dear,” she said to Marybeth, “while you pour, I'll put the roses in a vase.”

After she returned and placed the filled vase on the coffee table, she managed to coax some conversation from Mr. Means by telling him of Anna's improvement on the piano in her last lesson.

“Thank you.” He shrugged in a self-conscious way. “We all know how important such accomplishments are for a young lady if she is ever to fit into society and make a suitable marriage. It is difficult enough to rear my sister out here in the West when the only examples she has are cowgirls such as the Eberly sisters.” He grimaced as he glanced at Marybeth and Mrs. Foster, almost as though he expected them to voice their agreement to his obvious distaste. When they remained silent, he went on. “So of course when you arrived, Miss O'Brien, I saw immediately hope for Anna. Would I be too forward if I asked you to give her lessons in deportment? I shall pay you, of course, beyond what you earn at the bank.”

“I, well...” Marybeth almost bit her tongue to keep from rejecting his request out of hand. No, indeed. This was entirely fortuitous. More pay meant her trip to Wagon Wheel Gap would happen sooner than she ever could have dreamed. And if this was the only reason for Mr. Means's visit tonight, his only reason for asking her to dinner earlier in the day, she had nothing to worry about. “I'd be delighted, sir. When would you like for me to begin?”

“I would be honored if you would come to our house for supper Saturday evening so you and Anna can get better acquainted.” His broad smile and warm gaze seemed a tiny bit more familiar than before, though not inappropriately so.

“Of course. I would like that.”

Only after she saw him out the door did she recall her plans to go on a Saturday picnic with Rand. Now what was she supposed to do?

* * *

Gripping a picnic basket in one hand, Rand held Marybeth's hand with the other as they inched across a fallen log over Cat Creek. The day couldn't be more beautiful. Except for a few little white clouds over the San Juan range, the sun shone with its usual brilliance, and just the right amount of breeze kept everybody cool. Of course it never got too hot here in the foothills, so he hoped she would be comfortable. At least physically comfortable.

She hadn't seemed relaxed with him since last Monday evening, even though he'd done his best to show her that a background in poverty was nothing to be ashamed of. Yet for the rest of the week when he walked her home, she'd been fidgety and didn't ask him to stay and chat. When he asked if Hardison had bothered her again, she assured him she hadn't seen the man other than when he came into the bank to speak to Mr. Means.

Not that he'd been too worried about the gunslinger. Reverend Thomas had promised to keep an eye on Marybeth as she walked to work in the mornings and during her dinner break travels. For a man of God, the preacher was no sissy, so that set Rand's mind at ease.

Once they'd crossed the creek, Rand glanced back to be sure the rest of their party made it across. Tolley, three of the Eberly sisters and Reverend Thomas each took a turn balancing on the makeshift bridge without any problems. Maybe the preacher could figure out whether Rand was doing anything to annoy Marybeth, because he sure couldn't figure it out himself.

“What a beautiful view.” A bit breathless, Marybeth gazed out across the San Luis Valley.

“You doing all right?” Rand set down the basket and studied her face.

“Very well, thank you.” She inhaled deeply. “I'm still getting used to the altitude. I never understood what people meant when they said mountain air is thin. Now I know.”

“Well, you just sit down.” Rand hurried to lay out the blanket Beryl had brought. “We'll pass out the fixings.” Maybe all this week she'd been reacting to the air, not to him. She'd just needed her rest after working all day.

“Do let me help.” She resisted his attempt to seat her.

“Let her help, Rand.” Grace, the second oldest of the Eberly sisters, set down her own basket. “She'll be fine. A little work never hurt anybody.”

If anyone would know, it was these sisters, who'd done men's work all of their young lives. “All right, then.”

“Say, when do we eat?” Tolley, always hungry, eyed the baskets with interest.

“Just hold your horses, cowboy.” Laurie had carried three leather rifle sheaths from the buckboard. “Let's have our shooting competition first.” She set the sheaths on a large flat rock, unsnapped them and pulled out the firearms. “Who's first?”

Rand had forgotten all about this part of their plans. He shot a quick look at Marybeth and was relieved to see the interest in her eyes. While the others decided the order in which they'd shoot, she sidled up to him, and his pulse kicked into a gallop.

“I'd like to learn how to shoot.” She blinked those pretty hazel eyes at him, and he found his own breathing a bit difficult.

“Since when, Miss City Gal?” He somehow managed to inject a note of teasing into the question.

“Since two weeks ago when we had an encounter with a rattlesnake.” She answered in the same tone, which tickled him to no end.

While the Eberly sisters sent approving looks her way, Rand and the other men laughed. They quit laughing when she pulled a Remington double-barreled Derringer from her reticule.

“I bought this yesterday. Will you show me how to use it?”

“Yes, ma'am. I'd be happy to.” Pride swelled in his chest over Marybeth's determination to fit into Western life. She'd make a mighty fine helpmeet if he could just win her heart. Of course he'd feel a little better about it if she'd sought his help in choosing the pocket pistol, but he'd have to let that pass. She was pretty independent and he didn't want to discourage that quality in her.

Using pinecones, rocks and empty tin cans they'd brought along, the party spent the next hour or so in competition. At the end of it all, Grace and Rand tied, with not a single miss, no matter what they shot at. Marybeth didn't join their contest, but Rand was pleased that she did learn to keep her eye on the target and not flinch when she pulled the trigger of her tiny firearm.

Later as they finished off their picnic with rhubarb pie smothered in fresh cream, Rand pondered how to keep the party going. With Marybeth looking to him for her shooting lessons, maybe he could teach her his favorite game for winter evenings.

“How about we head back to the ranch and play checkers? We can have supper there.”

For some reason, Marybeth gave a little start and bit her lower lip. Before he could ask why, Beryl piped up.

“Aw, you just want to show off, Rand. Everybody knows you can even beat the Colonel at checkers.”

“I'd sure like to come, Rand,” the preacher said, “but I still have a few things to do in preparation for church tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Rand,” said Grace. “We have chores to do. Maybe another time.”

At that, Marybeth sighed with obvious relief.

Which gave Rand something more to ponder. Was she getting tired of his company? Or did she have other plans? Neither idea made him the least bit happy.

* * *

Marybeth had never faced such a dilemma. After a pleasant Saturday evening with Mr. Means and Anna, she felt obligated to sit with them in church the next morning. Yet while she and Rand passed out the hymnals, guilt caused a dull ache in her chest. She should tell him about the previous evening, but the words wouldn't come. Now, if her employer invited her to join him and his sister, what would Rand think? Would he still help her find Jimmy, or would he decide she was fickle and have no more to do with her? Above all, she didn't want the two men to see each other as rivals for her interest when she was trying very hard not to care too much for Rand.

As if she could see Marybeth's predicament, Susanna came to her rescue, just as she had last Sunday with Mr. Hardison. Accompanied by Lizzy, who flung herself into Marybeth's arms and insisted upon being picked up, Susanna put a hand on her waist and directed her to the pew near the front where Rand and his brothers were seated.

“You must come out to the ranch for dinner again today,” Susanna whispered just as Reverend Thomas stood to speak.

With the entire service to decide how to answer, Marybeth settled on the excuse that Mrs. Foster could not do without her. In truth, the older lady had decided to make two more bedrooms available for boarders. With Marybeth gone the day before, this Sunday afternoon was the only time she could help her landlady. She would wait to tell Rand her Saturdays would also be taken from now on, for that was when Anna would have her lessons in deportment.

After the service ended Rand and Tolley hovered around her like mother birds, undoubtedly to keep Mr. Hardison away. They needn't have worried. The well-dressed businessman stood just beyond the churchyard chatting with Lucy from the diner. Marybeth found the pairing rather odd due to his well-spoken ways and Lucy's less-than-ladylike flirting. Surely there was no accounting for tastes.

* * *

When Marybeth told Rand about her plans for the day, he couldn't hide his disappointment. While it was admirable for her to help Mrs. Foster, he renewed his suspicion that she was hiding something. On the other hand, even if she was, he had a secret of his own, and fair was fair.