Texas Cinderella (11 page)

* * *

Riley stepped out on the porch that evening to find Cassie in the exact spot he'd seen her in last night. Only this time she wasn't hugging her knees. She was leaning back, with her hands grasping the edge of the step on either side of her.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

He leaned against the support post and folded his arms. “So how did your walk with Mrs. Flanagan this afternoon
really
go?”

Cassie looked up at him, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Actually, I think she enjoyed it quite a bit. We stopped in at the mercantile and she told everyone there the story about how her roguish houseguest just picked her up without so much as a by-your-leave and carried her down the steps. But even though her words were tart, I could hear the smile in her voice. ”

“Good. Then we'll try it again tomorrow afternoon. And I won't let her give me no for an answer.” Then he grimaced. “Did she really call me roguish?”

Cassie grinned. “Her exact words.”

Riley decided it was time to change the subject. “What did you do before you came to work for Mrs. Flanagan?”

“I worked at the restaurant.”

That made sense. “Baking those tasty pies of yours, no doubt.”

“Sometimes. But Daisy, the owner, is a terrific cook and she loves preparing the dishes for her customers, so I was mostly there to help with the cleanup and the serving.”

“That's a waste of a good talent.” He studied her curiously. “Will you stay here with Mrs. Flanagan when she's on her feet again, or go back to the restaurant?”

“I'm not sure.” Cassie hugged her knees, as if in need of comfort. “I mean, I won't be going back to the restaurant—Daisy only hired me because she needed help when her youngest was born. Little Danielle is nearly nine months old now and, with her family's help, Daisy seems to have things well in hand.”

Her tone had been matter-of-fact, but he detected some emotion under the surface.

“And staying with Mrs. Flanagan?”

Cassie kept her face turned away. “She's offered to help me with my bakery business, to let me live here and have the use of her kitchen, for a twenty percent share of the business.”

“Sounds like a fair offer.”

“Oh yes, more than fair.”

When she didn't continue right away, Riley gave her a conversational nudge. “But?”

“But I'm not certain there will be a bakery business.”

That surprised him. Cassie seemed so animated when she spoke of the orders she received and the new recipes she was concocting. “Have you decided it's too much work?”

“Not at all. I enjoy baking, and the idea of earning my own way doing something I truly enjoy is like a wonderful dream.” Her enthusiasm faded as quickly as it had appeared. “But not all dreams are meant to come true.”

He hadn't figured her as one to back down from a challenge. “Most good ideas start with a dream.”

She lifted her hand in an uncharacteristically fatalistic gesture. “Perhaps.”

Then she cut him a challenging look. “And if owning a horse ranch is your ultimate dream, why are you putting it off?”

He recognized that she was trying to move the attention away from herself, but he let it go. “It's definitely my long-term goal. But for the time being, I need to focus on caring for the kids and keeping them safe.”

“An admirable goal. But you say that as if you can't you do both. I'm sure the children would enjoy living on a horse ranch. And not just enjoy it, but thrive there. Noah especially, since he seems quite fond of animals. And having a permanent place to call home would do them both good.”

That again. “The timing's just not right at the moment. Maybe someday.” How had she got him talking about himself? Time to change the subject.

But before he could do so, she spoke up again.

“You know, Mrs. Flanagan was right when she said there was plenty of land around here that would be perfect for a horse ranch. And Turnabout is a very nice place for a kid to grow up in.”

Riley needed to snuff out this topic of conversation with the finality of a candle flame doused in a downpour. “I don't doubt it, but I'm afraid this is not the area of the country I aim to settle down in.”

Her brows drew down. “You have something against Turnabout?”

Was she deliberately trying to misunderstand him? He raised his hands, palms out. “Turnabout seems like a fine town, but I think I'd like something a little farther West.”

“And what can you find farther West that you can't find right here?”

“The land of opportunity.”

She wrinkled her nose. “And California is where you find that?”

“That's right. Do you have something against California?”

“I don't know enough about the area to have an opinion one way or the other. I'm just curious as to what exactly you think you'll find there.”

“Exploring a new place and learning new ways of doing things is part of the draw. And I imagine we'll see all sorts of other new and interesting sights along the way.” He hoped his tone and expression didn't betray just how tired he was of traveling—no, running—from place to place.

Riley hated seeing the disapproval in Cassie's eyes, hated not being able to explain to her why it was best for them to keep moving.

Part of him felt that she would understand, would even help him if he explained things to her. And if it was just his well-being at stake, he might have done so. But he knew he couldn't take that chance with Pru and Noah's future, no matter how tempted he was.

* * *

Cassie found Riley's words disturbing. That footloose way of life might appeal to someone with an adventurous nature and no real ties, but he had responsibilities, children who were depending on him. He appeared to care a great deal for Pru and Noah—did he really not understand how constantly moving around from town to town, without the opportunity to form any permanent connections, would affect them? For one thing, she suspected this was why Noah hadn't spent much time in a classroom.

Perhaps she'd been too hasty in forming an opinion of Riley's character. Was his concern for the children secondary to his own thirst for travel and adventure?

Land of opportunity indeed. Surely he wasn't trying to chase some pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. She hadn't figured him for the mercenary sort, but then again, how well did she really know him? But she felt a sharp stab of disappointment at the very idea that this might be true.

Later, as Cassie lay in bed, she tried to reconcile what she thought she knew about Riley with his seeming indifference to what his gallivanting about was doing to the children. A part of her refused to believe that indifference was real. Perhaps it was just her seeing what she wanted to see, but she sensed a struggle in him, a travel-weariness, whenever the subject came up.

Who was the real Riley Walker and what was his story? And why was it so important to her to find the answer?

Chapter Thirteen

R
iley was surprised when he stepped into the kitchen the next morning to find Cassie awake and up before him once again. Not only was she up, but she'd stoked the fire in the stove and gathered up the eggs. How much, or little, sleep did the woman get in a night?

When she spotted him, she offered a polite smile. “Good morning. How did it go with Pru last night?”

He shrugged. “She woke a few times whimpering about how much she itched. I did what you suggested—gave her the lotion to use, told her a few stories, tried to keep her mind off her discomfort.” He took a long swallow from his cup. “She's asleep right now, so I figured I'd slip out to get some coffee.”

Cassie nodded as she grabbed the flour. “Hopefully there will just be another day or two of this severe itching before she starts feeling better.”

Remembering her disappointment in him last evening, he studied her without further comment as she prepared the dough to make biscuits, trying to gauge her feelings this morning. But he couldn't really tell.

“I see you repaired the fence around the chicken coop,” she finally said as she placed the sheet of biscuits in the oven. “I suppose you took care of that while I was out with Mrs. Flanagan yesterday.”

He nodded, encouraged by the friendliness of her tone.

She shoved a stray hair off her forehead with one flour-dusted wrist. “Thank you.”

Was that thank-you prompted merely by gratitude for a good deed? Or had that small act been enough to sway her into letting him back into her good graces? “You're quite welcome. But there's no need to say anything to Mrs. Flanagan about it.”

“Of course not. Informing her is entirely up to you.”

Good. He really didn't want to deal with the woman's prickly pride. “Speaking of maintenance work, which of the windows is it that's stuck?”

“The one in the dining room that faces Dr. Pratt's home.”

Riley made a mental note. That would be the next chore he tackled.

Cassie placed a large bowl on the table and started cracking eggs and dumping them into it.

“After sitting up with Pru last night, I'm wondering if I should leave Mrs. Flanagan alone with her, after all,” Riley murmured.

Cassie paused and gave him a probing look, as if trying to gauge his motives. “There isn't anything in Pru's care that requires the person watching over her to stand up and walk. And Noah will be here to help.”

The same arguments Mrs. Flanagan had used last night. “Still—”

“And it isn't as if we'll be gone all day.” Cassie grabbed a whisk and began whipping the eggs. “However, if you want to tell Mrs. Flanagan that you don't think she's up to it, either because she's old, or she's in that chair, or both, then that's your right.” Her expression took on an exaggeratedly pious look. “Perhaps you won't hurt her feelings too terribly.”

He frowned at her. “You, Miss Vickers, do not play fair.”

Her only response was a saucy grin.

* * *

Cassie strolled down the sidewalk toward church feeling slightly self-conscious. She'd never had a gentleman at her side like this, at least not one who wasn't her father or a brother.

And they were drawing quite a bit of notice. Most of the looks, she was sure, were due to the fact that Riley was new to town. And since most of his time had been spent either at the livery or Mrs. Flanagan's house, not many of the townsfolk had met him yet.

The two of them stopped along the way several times to exchange greetings and for Cassie to introduce Riley.

And was it her imagination or was he getting more than one interested second glance from some of the single ladies in town?

They arrived at church just as the bells rang to indicate the service would soon begin. Riley escorted her inside and then let her choose the pew.

Cassie slipped into one near the back, not wanting to walk the gauntlet of eyes that sitting farther up would have cost her.

As they settled in their seats, she remembered Mrs. Flanagan's instructions. The widow had pulled her aside just before they left. “I know you've had your hands full since our houseguests moved in, and haven't had much time to yourself. This will be a good opportunity to look around at the bachelors in this town and see if there are any other names you want to add to your husband list.”

To be honest, Cassie was becoming more disenchanted with the whole idea of this husband-candidate list by the day. Not that her situation had changed any. Just her enthusiasm.

She spotted Mr. Edmondson seated two rows ahead of her. He was a broadly built, well-muscled man, as was fitting for a blacksmith. She could see why Mrs. Flanagan had suggested him. Though his beard sported more than a hint of gray, he seemed quite vital.

As unobtrusively as she could, Cassie glanced around the rest of the congregation while the last few stragglers took their seats. Ignoring the married men and those she considered too old or too young, she tried to identify any additional candidates she should consider for her list.

Her gaze paused when she spotted her older brother, Verne, and his wife, Dinah, across the aisle and three rows up. They had her youngest brother, Bart, with them. She was glad Dinah had taken a stand about going to church on Sunday and that Verne had supported her. After Ma died, Pa had decided going to church service was a waste of time, and allowed them to go only at Christmas and Easter.

Moving on, Cassie spotted a few men who seemed to be unattached, but who she didn't know by name. Perhaps—

“Looking for someone?”

Riley's question brought her back to her surroundings with a snap.

She shook her head as she tried unsuccessfully to hold back the warmth climbing in her cheeks. “No one in particular.”

Then, thankfully, the organist began to play and the two of them faced forward to participate in the service.

Reverend Harper's sermon was based on Colossians 3:17 this morning. As Cassie listened to him speak on doing everything in the name of the Lord, she wondered if she was truly doing that. Had she prayed for guidance on this matter of whether to return home to her father or not? Was this marriage-for-convenience's-sake that she was contemplating really what the Lord wanted for her?

Many people married for reasons other than love, but were her own strong enough to do so? Cassie couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps she had set her feet on the wrong path.

As they exited the church following the service, Reverend Harper was there to greet the members of his congregation.

“Well, hello, Cassie Lynn. It's so nice to see you here this morning. I trust Mrs. Flanagan is doing well.”

“Thank you, Reverend, and yes, she is.” She indicated Riley with a wave of her hand. “Allow me to introduce Mr. Riley Walker. He and his niece and nephew are visiting in Turnabout.”

“Mr. Walker, welcome to Turnabout. I've heard about your niece's unfortunate situation. I hope she recovers soon.”

Riley took the proffered hand and gave it a quick shake. “Thank you, Reverend. Fortunately, Miss Vickers and Mrs. Flanagan took pity on us and are helping with the nursing duties.”

“You couldn't find two finer ladies to take you in.”

After that, he turned to the next in line and Cassie and Riley moved on.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps into the churchyard when she was hailed from behind.

Turning, she saw her brothers and sister-in-law bearing down on them. Hoping they weren't going to mention anything about her father's plans for her, Cassie smiled and exchanged greetings, then introduced Riley.

Fifteen-year-old Bart seemed to be taken with a petite blond-haired girl across the way, and as soon as the introductions were complete, excused himself to join her.

Verne, however, didn't seem quite so eager to move on. He extended his hand toward Riley. “Mr. Walker, you're new to town, aren't you?”

Riley shook it firmly. “Just got here Wednesday.”

Cassie was confused. It appeared to her that the men's hands were clasped a bit too tightly and that Verne was studying Riley with an assessing, none too friendly look. What had gotten into him?

“You planning to stay long?”

“Just until my niece gets over the chicken pox.”

While Verne's tone continued to sound confrontational, Riley's had a slightly amused hint to it.

Ignoring the menfolk, Dinah linked her arm with Cassie's. “Did you hear that Verne and I are getting our own place?”

Trying to keep one ear on the other conversation, Cassie nodded and smiled. “Pa told me.” She gave Dinah's arm a squeeze. “I'm so happy for you both.”

“I'm so excited. Our own place at last.” She spent several minutes talking about the new house Verne was working on, and then she paused and gave Cassie an abashed look. “Not that I don't enjoy living at your pa's place, but—”

Cassie squeezed her arm again. “No need to explain. I moved out as quickly as I could, remember?”

Dinah's lips curved up in a shared grin, but her smile quickly faded. “I'm sorry if our good fortune means you'll have to move back.”

This time Cassie cut her off for an entirely different reason as she cast a quick glance Riley's way. “Let's not talk of that now. And no matter what, I'm still happy for you.”

She caught sight of Verne's expression just then and was alarmed by how belligerent he looked. What had they just been discussing—something about Riley's living arrangements? Mercy, was Verne playing the role of her protector?

She quickly stepped forward. “Verne, Dinah has just been telling me about the new place you are building. It sounds wonderful.”

Verne's expression immediately shifted to one of pride. “Nothing but the best for my wife.”

Time to bring this exchange to a close before anything was said that shouldn't be. “Well, it was nice seeing you all, but I need to get back to the house. I don't want to leave Mrs. Flanagan alone with the sick little girl for too long. Tell Pa and Norris and Dwayne hi for me.”

With that Cassie gave Riley a let's-go look and turned toward the sidewalk. To her relief he said his goodbyes and fell into step beside her.

“I apologize if my brother made you uncomfortable. I don't know what he was thinking.”

“He was thinking ‘who is this stranger with my little sister?' And there's no need to apologize—I would probably have done the same thing if I'd been in his shoes.”

She thought about that all the way back to Mrs. Flanagan's house.

The widow and the kids had indeed managed quite nicely on their own. When Cassie and Riley returned, they found the trio at the kitchen table, a child sitting on each side of the woman while they pored over a book with pictures of exotic animals. They seemed almost disappointed when Cassie and Riley walked in and Mrs. Flanagan said it was time to put the book away and get ready for lunch.

* * *

Riley struggled all through lunch with his decision over what to do about Wednesday's meeting. He'd held his own counsel, relied on his own resources, for so long that letting someone in at this point seemed both wrong and uncomfortable. But he couldn't let this opportunity to take care of Guy once and for all slip through his fingers out of misguided pride.

By the end of the meal he'd reached a decision. As soon as the table was cleared and the children had been sent off to take naps, he asked Cassie if they could talk out on the back porch.

She followed him out, took her customary seat on the steps, arranged her skirt and then looked up at him. “Now, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?”

Riley tugged one of his cuffs, gathering his resolve. This was it. He either trusted her enough to tell her the whole truth, or he didn't.

He looked into her concerned face and made his decision.

“I have a favor to ask of you.”