One Heart to Win (30 page)

He was shouting. She winced before whispering, “I know. So do I.”

“Like hell you do.”

“It’s complicated, Roy. I don’t have time to explain, but go find Sam. He knows what I’m doing and why. Just don’t tell anyone else you saw me.”

“Is this a joke?” He grabbed her hand again. “You’re coming home with me.”

She dug in her heels. “No, I am not!”

“She really isn’t,” a new voice said calmly in a deadly tone.

They both glanced to the side and saw Degan slowly walking toward them from the side yard. And he’d drawn his gun! Tiffany blanched and leapt in front of her brother, putting her back to Degan.

She told Roy in a desperate whisper, “He doesn’t know who I am, but he
will
protect me. Don’t ruin what I’m doing. Go. Find Sam. And don’t talk to anyone else about this or—or I’ll never forgive you.”

For the briefest moment he looked hurt that she’d say that, but then he gave Degan a fulminating glare before he angrily walked off. She hoped he’d talk to Sam right away. But another layer of guilt settled on her shoulders because he was so angry with her and she hadn’t been able to give him the explanation herself. But she was horrified when Degan stopped Roy from leaving. . . .

“Warren.”

Roy turned back around slowly. His chin was jutted out defiantly by the time he faced Degan. Tiffany could have throttled her brother for his bravado when he said, “You going to shoot me into silence?”

She was about to jump back in front of Roy when Degan replied, “It’s a thought . . . or I could just convince Pearl to stop seeing you. Tell me, which would you prefer?”

A number of emotions crossed Roy’s face—anger, confusion, some definite frustration—before he said, “What’s it to you?”

“Simple loyalty to my employer. Zachary has every intention of telling your father that Miss Fleming works for him. So we’re going to let him do that in his own good time. Neither elder needs to know about this incident, which would only embarrass Miss Fleming.”

Roy glanced at her again. Her entire expression was pleading with him. He might still say who she really was and was probably thinking about doing just that, he stared at her so long. She was going to have to see her father before she left the
territory, whether she wanted to or not, but damnit, not like this, not dragged home by her angry brother.

But Roy finally eased his aggressive stance and told Degan, “She’s already asked me to say nothing and I won’t—for her, not because of your threats.”

“Good enough,” Degan replied. “Don’t make me regret trusting you on this matter.”

Roy just snorted before he left. Degan holstered his gun. Now that the danger was over, Tiffany glared at the gunman. “Would you really have shot him?”

“Over a prank and when it gets sprung? Of course not.”

“Did you mean what you said, that you aren’t going to tell Zachary about this, either?”

“I’ll tell him the day he rides over to the Warren ranch to do his gloating. I’m not going to let him get egg on his face during that encounter. But for now, I don’t see much point in mentioning it.”

“You really are loyal, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer, just led her to their horses. What a complex man he was. . . . He seemed to make his own rules.

—

The rest of the week passed slowly, with her waiting to hear back from her mother when she knew it was still too soon. Pearl returned to work that week and just in time, since Tiffany had started sneezing again that very morning. But it was an unpleasant first meeting.

Pearl sauntered into the kitchen, took one look at Tiffany in her new, appalling work clothes, and said accusingly, “You stole my clothes?”

Since they were wearing the same style of skirt and blouse,
Tiffany could certainly understand the woman’s mistake. The maid was much more curvaceous than Tiffany and filled out the low-cut blouse provocatively. Tiffany didn’t doubt that Pearl wore that type of blouse because it abetted her seductions. With black hair worn loose to her shoulders and gray eyes, she was pretty in an earthy sort of way. Now that Tiffany was seeing Pearl close up, why Hunter would be tempted by her was obvious.

Tiffany quickly explained, “When I ordered new work clothes from Mrs. Martin, I didn’t specify the style. She obviously patterned mine after yours. Believe me, I would never wear anything this revealing if I had a choice.”

Tiffany had filled in the ridiculously low neckline though. It had taken her several hours in Mary’s sewing room to fashion an insert that covered her upper chest. It was fastened behind her neck and tucked into the low, loose bodice. She’d had to give up on wearing her chemise with the blouse because the straps would show due to the short, capped sleeves that hung off the shoulder.

But Pearl had picked up on the insult, intended or not, and angrily said, “Stay away from Hunter, he’s mine!”

Where that came from, Tiffany wasn’t at all sure, but she replied, “Yours?”

“He belongs in my bed.”

Aghast that she was even discussing something so personal with a stranger, Tiffany told the maid stiffly, “I have a fiancé.”

“Good, see that it stays that way.”

Embarrassed, green eyes narrowed, Tiffany said, “I’m the new cook. I’ll be making
your
food. You might want to keep that in mind.”

As retaliatory threats went, that one had been quite weak. It infuriated her that she hadn’t done better. That was the only reason she was so angry that day, she assured herself. But if Hunter had shown up before she’d calmed down, he would have gotten an earful about his paramour.

Degan did though, and Tiffany was still too angry at the time to realize she shouldn’t mention it, even to him, especially to him. But he did shed some light on a question that had been bothering her.

“She doesn’t really want Hunter, you know. What she wants is to be the lady of a house like this. That will never happen here while Mary Callahan lives, so Pearl would actually rather have a Warren for a husband. She wouldn’t even be working here if they had hired her over there. It’s Roy Warren she’s got her matrimonial sites on.”

Tiffany had feared her brother was somehow involved with the maid when Degan had used Pearl as leverage with him in town the other day. When she was out of this mess, she was going to have to warn Roy against that abrasive, conniving, two-timing woman. Would he listen, as angry as he was with Tiffany right now? Or was it already too late? It made her wonder just what Roy had been doing in town in the middle of the week, when Pearl had been there, too.

The next day, the piglet showed up at the house again, but in Jakes’s arms this time, and the trail cook was angry about it. “You never should’ve made friends with him. He’s been crying for you since he can’t get out no more.”

“You added more fence planking?”

“Had to,” Jakes had grumbled. “Never had a dang problem with the babies wandering till they got a whiff of you. Here, he’s yours now.”

He shoved the animal at her and marched off. Tiffany was surprised, but not actually displeased. She’d never owned a pet before, and this one did seem to have a calming influence on her. Of course now that the piglet was her pet, she had to name it. She decided on Maximilian, a noble name to counter its mud-loving nature. But an even greater benefit of the unexpected gift was that the piglet’s being underfoot in the kitchen all day kept Pearl out of it. The maid had some sort of aversion to the animal that had her hurrying in the opposite direction if the pig even looked as if it might approach her.

Tiffany’s cooking continued to improve that week, though it was hard to outdo that roast she’d made that everyone had thanked her for the next day. But amazingly, she actually started having fun cooking—well, not the cooking part, since the days kept getting warmer and so did the kitchen. Sweating was such an appalling new experience! But she found that experimenting with spices was fun. She just reserved the results for lunches, which most of the household didn’t ride in for. And she kept notes! Even that was fun. She was making her own recipes! And anything that tasted good got moved to the dinner menus.

Hunter didn’t go to town that next Saturday night with the rest of the men. He stayed home to teach Tiffany how to play poker, which he could have done any night, but he used the excuse that Saturday was the only time he ever played poker, so it had to be that night or never.

She hadn’t wanted to. Spending the evening with him didn’t seem like a good idea when she already saw far too much of him every day. He’d even started joining her on the porch in the evening for the sunset, sitting companionably on the swing with her and Maximilian, not always talking, but, when he did,
always making her laugh. But he cajoled her into the card game that night.

They used the poker table in the parlor. Just the two of them in that high-ceilinged room, their laughter echoing loudly, so loudly that Zachary yelled at them from the top of the stairs to quiet it down. But she couldn’t win a game no matter what decisions she made about the cards in her hand. She began to suspect Hunter was cheating. Even that was funny!

She had to stop having fun with the man. She shouldn’t be feeling so comfortable with him now that she constantly got roped in by his humor. Roped. That was another amusing memory now. She’d actually roped a cow!

It had happened the day he invited her out for a ride. He’d let her choose in which direction to ride. She wanted to see the damage the copper mine was doing to the range, so they rode east. The Callahans hadn’t been exaggerating. The grass above the gulch where the mining camp was set up was blackened with soot. The cave-in had created a large hole in the ground. They didn’t approach the edge of it until they heard the cow. Yet another one had gotten trapped in the deep hole. Luckily, this one had only fallen to a ledge about four feet down and was stuck there. It didn’t look injured, but it wasn’t getting out without help.

Hunter dismounted and grabbed the rope hooked on his saddle. When she saw that he was going to lasso the animal rather than just drop the loop down over its head, she remembered that Mary had told her she enjoyed roping stray calves, so she asked Hunter if she could try it. He was surprised she’d want to, but he showed her how. Mary had been right. It was fun once she got the hang of it and stopped wrapping the rope around herself instead of the cow’s head.

But it definitely delayed their return to the ranch. Sunset had started, and she started drifting away from Hunter as she watched it.

“Pay attention,” he told her, “or do I need to take your reins to lead you?”

She grinned at him. “I’m sorry, it’s just so beautiful out here, and the sunsets are spectacular.”

He’d laughed. “I already figured you liked them. When you’ve lived with them your whole life like me, you don’t tend to notice them as much.”

“Lucky you. In the city, with buildings all around, you never get to see the horizon. Maybe a little pale pink high in the sky before it sinks low, but nothing like this.”

A perfect end to an enjoyable day. When she had that thought, it disturbed her a little. When had she started to enjoy spending time with Hunter? She hadn’t even been here two weeks yet, though it was getting close to that. But she was no closer to finding a peaceful solution to the feud that didn’t include marriage. Hunter could—if he would.

That stayed on her mind as they left the horses in the stable. As they strolled back to the house, she actually asked him, “Have you given any thought to arranging a permanent truce with your neighbors without marrying one of them—since you said you didn’t want to?”

“Didn’t say I didn’t want to marry, just not her.”

“Even if she’s pretty? Er, that is, I’ve heard her mother is beautiful.”

“The daughter probably is, too, but it won’t matter, not when I’ve lived with this hate for that family all my life. I don’t think anything’s going to make that go away. It’s always going to be deep down, under the surface. Anything she does wrong,
it will probably burst out, and it won’t even be her fault.” He’d suddenly looked surprised. “I never mentioned that to anyone before, that particular fear.”

Tiffany hurried inside the house. She wished he hadn’t mentioned it to her, either.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

A
NOTHER SUCCESSFUL MEAL HAD
Tiffany climbing the stairs that night with a half smile on her lips. It was still early. She thought about writing letters to her friends back home. She could have someone else post them for her. She couldn’t tell her friends what she’d been up to, but she could tell them some positive things about Montana—as long as they didn’t tell her mother. Rose had to continue thinking her daughter abhorred everything about the territory.

Tiffany believed her mother had received her second letter by now. She’d half expected an immediate telegram saying simply, “Come home,” but her mother probably wanted to express her thoughts more articulately in a letter. Rose would have self-recriminations to address, apologies to make, but hopefully not an “Are you certain?” Tiffany still worried that Rose would do what Sam had done—try to convince her that she’d merely had some bad luck in witnessing so much violence in such a short time. Maybe it was bad luck, but that wasn’t changing her mind.