Texas Cinderella (10 page)

“True. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't make the attempt.”

He didn't say anything to that, just kept looking at the fireflies with an unreadable expression on his face.

Cassie realized she was trespassing on his privacy, just as Mrs. Flanagan had done earlier, and gave him an apologetic smile. “But they're your children, and I'm sure you're doing the best you can with them.”

Then she stood and brushed at her skirt. “If you'll excuse me, I need to get my tarts out of the oven.”

He nodded. “I think I'll stay out here a little longer, if you don't mind. I'll be sure to close the house up good and tight when I go in. And I'll check on the kids one last time before I turn in.”

“Don't worry over much about the children. My room is right next to theirs, so I'll hear them if they should wake and need anything.”

Cassie opened the oven a few moments later and was pleased to see the crust on the tarts was a nice golden brown. She pulled them out and set them on the table beside the pies.

She took care of the stove, then glanced out the back door before heading to her room. All she could see was the shadowy silhouette of Riley, who now sat on the porch step. There was something achingly lonely about that sight, something that made her want to go back out there and let him know he had a friend.

Instead, she turned and headed toward the bedrooms. She walked quietly past her door and paused outside the room where the children were sleeping. She opened the door and peered into the shadowy interior. Both were turned on their sides, and neither stirred at her intrusion. All she heard was their rhythmic breathing.

She smiled softly at the sweetness of that sound. Children were such precious gifts. She supposed she couldn't blame Riley for being so protective of them.

But how could she help him understand that he and his charges were safe here, that no one intended them harm?

Chapter Eleven

A
fter Cassie went inside, Riley settled down on the spot she'd vacated. It was surprising how difficult it had been not to confide in her. He'd detected a faint note of censure in her voice and he'd found himself longing to replace it with admiration.

Which was altogether vain and totally irrelevant to the situation at hand. Because he had more than himself to worry about—he had those two kids sleeping inside counting on him.

Still, what if he could trust her with their story, tell her why things were the way they were? Being able to share that burden with someone, someone he could truly trust, would be such a gift.

But such thoughts were getting him nowhere and he'd had a long day. Riley placed his hands on his knees and levered himself up. Time to turn in.

As he stepped inside, he thought about what an unexpected turn this day had taken. From his restless night, to the unexpected invitation to move in here, to this feeling of almost being part of a family. Not that these cozy new accommodations didn't come with their own set of issues.

His first day at the livery had gone well, and Fred Humphries was an easy man to work for. And even though Riley had been worried about how Pru was doing, and whether he'd made the right choice in trusting the ladies to not get too close to their secrets, knowing that the children were being well looked after when he had to be away had brought him a measure of peace.

Trains stopped at the depot here in town twice a day, regular as clockwork, at ten in the morning and at three in the afternoon. He'd negotiated with Mr. Humphries to meet both trains each day to see if anyone needed to rent a wagon or have freight delivered. So Riley would be able to keep an eye on incoming visitors to town.

This was one of the benefits of stopping off in a small town—it was much easier to keep an eye out for his stepbrother, Guy. The disadvantage was that it was much more difficult to melt into the background and not stand out.

Riley paused at the door to the kids' room, and something in his chest tightened as he watched them sleep. Such precious little lives, and they'd been entrusted to his care. He simply could not fail them, doing so was unthinkable.

He stepped away and moved quietly to his attic room. Looking around, he smiled at the little touches that Cassie had gone to the trouble of adding at some point this afternoon. She'd placed a cloth on the crate he was using as a bedside table, and topped it with an oil lamp. There was also a braided rug next to his makeshift bed. A part of him wondered if she was just a little too good to be true. Perhaps it was cynical of him, but he'd been fooled too many times in his life to be completely trustful.

Still, it was hard to imagine there was any falseness or treachery behind the innocence he sensed in her. In fact, if it was only his own well-being at stake, he'd trust her with the whole story.

* * *

When Riley stepped into the kitchen the next morning, he was surprised to see Cassie sitting at the table hunched over a cup of coffee.

She glanced up with a smile, but he saw the circles under her eyes and the weary lines at her mouth.

He grabbed a cup, moved toward the stove and lifted the coffeepot. “Rough night?” he asked as he sat down across from her.

“I'll be fine as soon as I finish my coffee.”

“It was the kids, wasn't it?”

“It wasn't her fault—she's sick.”

“Tell me.” When it appeared Cassie would try to put him off, he gave her a stern look. “I'm not wanting to cast blame, but I
am
Pru's uncle. I need to know how she's doing so I can better help.”

Cassie nodded. “Of course. Pru's symptoms have moved deep into the itchy phase, and she was miserable.” Cassie took a small sip from her cup. “I finally sent Noah to my room and spent the night on his bed, so I could read to her and try to take her mind off her misery.”

“I'm sorry. That should have been me watching over her.”

Cassie lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Don't worry,” she said with a lopsided smile. “I have a feeling there'll be enough of these episodes to go around over the next few days.”

He smiled at her attempt at humor. But when she went to get up, he captured her hand with his. “Wait.”

She stilled as if frozen. Her gaze went to their joined hands and then shot to his own. Something passed between them, something warm that he definitely needed to explore more deeply.

He released her hand and leaned back, clearing his throat. “I think it's my turn to apologize. You go do whatever it is you need to do to get Mrs. Flanagan ready to face the day, then send Noah back to his own bed, and get some rest yourself. I can handle cooking breakfast this morning. And I'll slip down to the livery to let Mr. Humphries know I need the morning off.”

“That's very thoughtful of you, but I—”

“I insist. I only agreed to this arrangement on the condition you allow me to pull my weight in taking care of them, remember? Besides, as you said, there's going to be a lot of these episodes to go around the next few days. You won't do Pru or anyone else any good if you wear yourself out.”

Cassie was silent for a moment and he could almost see her mind processing what he'd just said. Then she nodded. “Very well. But I'm only going to take a short nap, so there's no need for you to tell Mr. Humphries anything.”

Riley made a noncommittal sound as he stood and moved around the table to help her stand.

She smiled with a raised brow. “Thank you, but I'm merely tired, not infirm.”

He waved his hands in a shooing motion. “Then get on with you—take care of whatever you need to with Mrs. Flanagan and then be off to bed.”

She gave a little curtsy. “Yes, sir.” And with a saucy smile, she headed out the door.

Smiling at her playful exit, Riley stoked the stove, then grabbed the egg basket and stepped outside. He'd have to make certain they shared the overnight duties tonight. He might not be as good at tending to sick kids as she was, but if it was just a matter of trying to soothe Pru, and read or otherwise distract her from her discomfort, he could manage that well enough.

* * *

Cassie opened her eyes and was confused by the bright sunlight streaming into the room. Then she remembered—she'd agreed to take a nap.

How long had she been asleep? She glanced at the small porcelain clock on her bedside table and saw that she had indeed slept for nearly two hours. Oh dear, she was going to be late making her deliveries.

She'd lain down fully dressed, so had only to pull her shoes back on and put her hair up again. She took care of that quickly, then hurried to the kitchen.

She entered the room to find it empty, but almost immediately the back door opened and Riley stepped inside.

“Oh, hello,” he said, sounding inordinately pleased with himself. “Up already?”

“Already? I should have gotten up an hour ago.” Then she looked around. “Where are my baked goods?”

“Delivered. I just got back.”

“Oh.” Realizing that had sounded less than grateful, she conjured up a smile. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Care for some breakfast?”

She reached for one of the two biscuits on a plate in the middle of the table. “I'll just have these and a cup of coffee.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Mrs. Flanagan appeared in the doorway, with Noah proudly pushing the wheelchair.

“Well, hello there,” the woman said. “Thought I heard you in here.”

“Where's Pru?” Riley asked with a frown.

The widow waved a hand. “Back in bed.”

“Good.” Cassie set her biscuit down as she reached for the cup of coffee Riley had poured for her. “She didn't sleep well and needs to get all the rest she can.”

“Speaking of sleep,” Riley said, turning to Mrs. Flanagan. “I have a favor to ask you.”

The widow sat up straighter, as if happy to be asked. “And just what might that be?”

“There's a tree right outside my window with a limb hanging over the house. When the wind blows, it scratches and bumps against the roof, and that makes it hard to sleep. I was wondering if you'd mind if I trimmed it off.”

Mrs. Flanagan nodded. “I suppose that would be all right. In fact, I was planning to take care of that myself before I had my accident.”

“Then if you'll just tell me where to find a ladder and a saw, I'll get it all taken care of before I turn in tonight.”

While her employer gave Riley the directions he needed, and some he didn't, Cassie smiled. She was impressed with how smoothly he'd handled that, getting the widow's permission to do one of the maintenance chores by making it sound as if she was doing him a favor.

And Cassie had noticed he'd been doing other chores, too, all without fanfare. The pantry door no longer squeaked, the cabinet door that had been sagging on its hinges was now tight, the broken slat on the porch rail had been fixed. He'd even replaced the rotten board on the old swing in the backyard with a new one.

Yep, Riley was one handy man to have around.

He glanced up and met her gaze for just a moment, and she let her smile tell him how much she appreciated his approach.

Chapter Twelve

P
ru wasn't a very demanding patient. The biggest problem Cassie encountered that morning was trying to keep her from scratching at her blisters. She applied the calamine lotion Dr. Pratt had prescribed, which did seem to provide some relief, but not enough to sooth her completely. Cassie also trimmed the girl's fingernails short enough to minimize any damage she might do if she gave in to the urge to scratch.

When delivering a bowl of broth midmorning, Cassie nodded toward Pru's doll. “What a pretty little lady. Is that Bitsy?”

The girl nodded as she clutched the doll protectively against her chest.

Cassie could see the cloth doll had been lovely at one time. But one of the button eyes was hanging by a mere thread and the other seemed loose, as well. The yarn hair was frayed and tangled. The gingham dress was soiled and worn, but it was obvious the doll was well-loved.

“Bitsy is a perfectly lovely name for a lovely little lady.”

Pru stroked the doll's hair. “My momma made it for me.”

“Then that means she's an extra special doll, because she was made with lots of love.”

The little girl moved the doll to her lap, where she studied her forlornly. “Her eye is messed up.”

“I see that. Would you like me to fix it for you?”

Pru's expression was wary but hopeful. “Can you really?”

“I certainly can. It'll take just a few minutes with a needle and thread and it'll be good as new.”

“I have something Ma made for me, too,” Noah interjected.

Giving Pru time to decide if she would entrust her precious doll's well-being to her, Cassie turned to the boy. “And what might that be?”

He scrambled off the bed and moved to the trunk. After a moment of rummaging around, he pulled out a soft leather pouch and held it up proudly for Cassie to see. “Ma made it from a deer hide. And she stitched my name on it in blue thread. See?”

“I do. It looks like a very well-made pouch, and the stitching is exquisite.”

“She said it was a special bag to hold all my treasures in.”

“And what sorts of treasures do you keep in it?”

Noah opened the bag and poured the contents out on the bed. “This rock comes from the creek where I used to go fishing with Uncle Riley. And this is the brass hook that used to hang on the front porch to hold a lantern. And this is a blue jay feather I found once when Ma took us blackberry picking.”

“What splendid treasures.” Cassie noticed he hadn't mentioned his father. Was there a story there? She was tempted to ask, but decided not to. No point putting the boy on the spot if it was a sensitive topic.

She put a finger to her chin. “You know,” she said slowly, “I imagine Mrs. Flanagan would enjoy getting a look at these fine treasures of yours.”

Noah started tucking his things back into the pouch. “I'll go show her right now.” And with that, he sprinted out of the room.

Cassie turned back to Pru. “So, shall I see about fixing Miss Bitsy's eyes for you?”

After another moment's hesitation, the little girl nodded. “Yes, please.”

Cassie stood. “Then why don't I draw you a nice warm bath and add some baking soda to it? That ought to give you at least a small bit of relief from all that itching. Would you like that?”

Pru nodded, but her expression was uncertain.

Ignoring her reservations, Cassie smiled. “Very well. You stay here while I go draw your bath, and I'll fetch you once it's ready. Then, while you're soaking in the tub, I'll work on getting Bitsy fixed up.”

Twenty minutes later, Cassie entered the parlor with the doll and her sewing box in hand.

Mrs. Flanagan sat near the sofa, an open book in her hands. Noah sat on the floor playing with a half-dozen tin soldiers, while Dapple watched him with lazily slitted eyes.

The widow glanced up and frowned. “What's that you've got there?”

Cassie explained the situation as she sat on the sofa. “Anyway, I could tell this doll means a lot to Pru and I thought it might cheer her up to have it fixed up.”

She went to work immediately, reattaching Bitsy's left eye and securing the right one more firmly for good measure. Not satisfied leaving it at that, Cassie studied the doll critically. “Her dress could do with a good washing. I just wish I had something to fashion another garment from while this one dries.”

Mrs. Flanagan straightened in her wheelchair. “I have just the thing.” Turning adroitly, she exited the room and then returned a few moments later with a colorful scarf that she held out to Cassie. “Use this.”

Cassie studied the bright yellow, flower-bedecked fabric and glanced up uncertainly. “Are you sure? I'll have to cut it.”

The widow waved a hand dismissively. “Go right ahead. I never wear the thing—yellow is not a good color for me.”

As Cassie washed the doll's original dress in the kitchen basin, she took note of the small, evenly spaced stitching. Pru's mother had taken a great deal of care when she'd stitched this for her daughter.

To fashion the new doll-sized garment, Cassie cut the scarf to a suitable length, then simply folded it in half and cut a hole at the fold large enough to fit the doll's head through. She quickly basted the sides together and then used one of her own ribbons to serve as a belt.

Then, for good measure, she worked on cleaning the doll's face and smoothing out her yarn hair.

She was quite pleased with the result and even Mrs. Flanagan called it a job well done.

Once Cassie was finished, she helped Pru dry off and dress, and then brought Bitsy to her. Pru was delighted with her changed appearance.

“Don't worry,” Cassie assured her, “as soon as the dress your mother made for Bitsy is dry, you can change her right back into it. And then you can keep this one as a spare so she doesn't have to wear the same clothes all the time.”

“Thank you.” Pru held up the doll. “And Bitsy says thank you, too. She likes having two dresses.”

Cassie was touched by the girl's simple gratitude. Perhaps, if she had some spare time, she would make the doll another proper dress.

* * *

When Riley retuned to Mrs. Flanagan's home that afternoon, he found the widow and Noah in the kitchen with Cassie. Cassie was at the table pouring a custard-like substance into a dough-lined pie dish.

He set a small sack of apples he'd picked up at the mercantile on the counter. “I had a hankering for an apple this afternoon and figured it would be rude to eat one in front of you all, so I bought enough for everyone.” He picked one up and polished it on his shirt. Then he held it out. “Any takers?”

Mrs. Flanagan and Noah each accepted one, but Cassie shook her head.

“Maybe later,” she said with a smile.

“Working on another pie, I see. Will this one be an experiment, as well?”

Mrs. Flanagan replied for Cassie. “Every dessert she makes these days is an experiment of one sort or another.”

“She said I could help if I wanted to,” Noah declared, his chest puffing out in self-importance.

“Helping is good,” Riley said mildly. Then he remarked, to no one in particular, “You folks sure do have some fine weather in these parts.”

“Better than where you came from?” Cassie asked curiously.

“It was raining there the day we left.” Then he turned back to Mrs. Flanagan. “I imagine a lady as independent as you obviously are has a hard time being confined to the house.”

The widow nodded. “I sure do miss being able to come and go as I please.”

“Then how would you like to go for a bit of a stroll this afternoon?”

She glared at him. “That is not amusing.”

“I didn't intend for it to be. In fact, I was quite serious.”

“Then you must be addled. As you can see, I'm not in any condition to be doing any strolling.”

“Perhaps I should have said how would you like to accompany Miss Vickers on a stroll.”

Mrs. Flanagan's lips pinched even tighter. “Again, given the steps, I'm confined to the house and porch.”

“Ah, but that's not strictly true. You need to use your imagination to see the possibilities.”

Her frown took on a tinge of curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, I'll show you.” Riley pushed the wheeled chair out onto the porch, inviting Cassie and Noah to follow.

Once they were all gathered there, Riley bent down and lifted the startled woman from her chair, cradling her carefully in his arms. Holding her as if she weighed nothing at all, he turned to the younger woman. “Miss Vickers, if you don't mind.”

She quickly maneuvered the chair down the stairs and settled it on the walkway.

Riley followed with his surprised-speechless burden and settled her in the chair once again. “How's that?”

Mrs. Flanagan finally found her tongue. “That, young man, was highly impertinent. I will thank you not to ever take such liberties with my person again, at least not without my permission.”

Riley schooled his expression in some semblance of contrition. “Yes, ma'am. I surely will not.”

She shifted in her chair, her back straight as a fence post and her chin tilted up imperiously. “But now that I'm down here, I might as well take advantage of it. Cassie Lynn, I have a hankering to take a turn down Main Street.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Cassie's tone was bland, but Riley noticed the amused glint in her eye as she moved behind her employer and grasped the chair's handles.

Riley caught her gaze and gave her a quick wink. Cassie had a sudden coughing fit, no doubt to cover the laugh he saw threatening to spill out of her.

Then he stepped back. “Enjoy your stroll, ladies. And don't worry, Mrs. Flanagan, I'll be here to carry you back up the steps when you return.”

With that, he nonchalantly stuck his hands in his pockets and went back inside. The fact that he'd made Cassie smile at him more favorably again had brightened his day more than it should have.

* * *

Cassie couldn't hide her smile as she began pushing the chair down the sidewalk. Who would have guessed Riley would be so good at charming her employer?

“Slow down,” Mrs. Flanagan said. “We're not running a race here.”

“Of course.” She slowed her pace. “Just let me know if there's somewhere you want to stop, or when you're ready to turn around and head back for home.”

“Of course I will,” Mrs. Flanagan said acerbically. “You know I'm not one to be afraid to speak up.”

It was nearly forty minutes later before they returned to the house. Noah was sitting on the porch, and as soon as he spotted them he sprinted inside. A few minutes later Riley stepped out, ready to carry Mrs. Flanagan up the stairs. This time, before he lifted her from her chair, he asked permission with exaggerated formality.

He was rewarded for his efforts with a glare. “Don't think you're fooling me, young man. I know impertinence when I see it.” Then she gave a regal nod. “But yes, you may carry me back up the stairs. ”

* * *

Later that afternoon, after Riley had taken care of the wayward tree branch, he paused at the back door. Looking into the kitchen, he wasn't surprised to see Cassie at the stove.

He watched as she stirred a pot, and listened to her soft humming. The domesticity of the scene tugged at him, stirred a longing in him he hadn't realized was there.

A moment later she lifted her cook spoon and took a taste of whatever was in the pot. Her gaze met his just as she swallowed. Her eyes widened and her cheeks colored prettily, as if she were embarrassed to have been caught in the act.

Hiding a grin, he opened the door and stepped inside. “Hope I didn't startle you?”

She returned his smile self-consciously. “Just a little bit.”

“Please let me make it up to you. What can I do to help?”

She shook her head. “You've been working all day. I'm sure you want to sit back and relax for a bit before supper.”

But he was having none of that. “Surely there's something I can do.”

Before she could answer, Mrs. Flanagan wheeled herself into the room, Noah at her side. “Good, you're both here. I wanted to speak to you.”

Noting that Cassie once more looked like a schoolgirl who'd been caught at something, Riley turned with a smile to his hostess. “What can we do for you, ma'am?”

“I want to make certain you are both planning to go to church service tomorrow.”

Cassie responded first. “Riley should go, by all means. But I'll stay. I can't leave you here to take care of Pru by yourself.”

But the widow didn't agree. “I won't be by myself. Noah can help me keep Pru entertained.”

Riley's nephew nodded. “Yes, ma'am. I'm real good at that.”

Riley spoke up. “No, that's mighty generous of you to offer, but the kids are my responsibility. We'll be fine here while you ladies are at church.”

Mrs. Flanagan drew herself up. “Young man, I'm not being generous, I'm being practical. As long as I'm stuck in this chair I won't be attending church service. My home's not the only building in town with porch steps that prevent me from entry on my own.

“And no,” she continued before he could speak, “I will
not
allow you to carry me up and down the church steps. You will please allow an old woman her dignity.”

She settled back in her chair. “Now, you two will go on to church, Noah and I will watch over Pru and that's that.” She eyed Riley sternly. “And don't tell me again that you aren't going. I won't be housing any heathens in my home.”

“Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am. I mean, of course I'll go. If you're sure you can handle watching the children on your own.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, I'm quite capable of watching over a sick child for a few hours. If you don't believe me, remember that I raised two boys of my own and nursed them through any number of illnesses and injuries. Besides, if there's something I can't reach or do because of this confounded chair, then, since Pru is not entirely bedridden, she'll be able to get up and help me.”