Wild Lilly (4 page)

She arched her brows and grinned. “More than a bit,” she replied, peeking out the window at the run down barn and corral. “Do you know anyone who could help?”

The man laughed and knuckled his mustache. “I have two strong boys that wouldn’t mind comin’ over and givin’ you a hand with your farm.”

A genuine smile lit her face for the first time since the horrible incident this morning. “That would be lovely. When can they start?”

“I’ll have to clear it with their mother, but I think they can come by tomorrow morning if that works for you, ma’am. Their names are Jess and Brian.”

“Wonderful. I look forward to meeting them.”

The porter hesitated and smoothed his mustache. “I don’t know if it’s your first time out west, ma’am, but you need to be careful. Close and bolt the shutters at night and secure yer barn.”

Lilly smoothed her hands on her dress and glanced at the rifle above the fireplace. “Is there something I should be worried about?” The first thing that came to her mind was those three ruffians on the street, and the foul-mouthed but utterly handsome Mr. McGregor, with his wide and sensual lips.

“Oh, just the animals. Uh, we ain’t had any Indian problems for a long time,” he continued quickly. “Well, ma’am, I have to get goin’. It was a pleasure meetin’ you, Miss Brooks.”

She nodded absently, her mind already spinning with where to start the cleaning. With a sigh, she opened one of her trunks and withdrew a brown gingham dress and apron. She untied the shawl and tried to ignore the memory of the fear she’d felt in the alley.

Cleaning this place couldn’t be that hard. Lilly and her sisters had always helped with the light housework. Her mother believed it would help them run their own households when they got married.

A soft smile lit her face as she spied a dusty picture on the wall. Using her gloves, she gently brushed the layer of grunge from the surface. It was one of her Grand-mère’s paintings, a beautiful seascape that showed the ocean in winter. Homesickness filled her heart for the crash of the pounding surf and the smell of salty air.

With a weary sigh, she unpinned her bonnet and began to search for a bucket.

Two hours later, Lilly was up to her elbows in greasy foam as she scrubbed the crusty cast-iron stove. There wasn’t a decent cleaning rag, mop, or anything of the sort to be found anywhere in the cabin. Once she’d chipped away the rust, the well pump at the sink spat out a thick stream of equally rusty water. Another five minutes of pumping and clear water finally spilled out in a rush.

The biggest disappointment was the initial search for a bathroom. After opening every door in the house, she resigned herself to the fact that there was no indoor plumbing. She found the outhouse, with its half-moon cutout on the door, behind the barn. A bucket of sawdust and lime was still half-full inside. Holding her nose against the musty smell, Lilly grumped as she imagined what it was going to be like exposing her nether bits to the winter air.

Back in the house, all the windows and doors were open, allowing the cabin to air out. Lilly had identified the source of the stink. A sack of potatoes in the cellar had long ago gone to rot and turned into a nasty black sludge. The pile of dirty dishes sat soaking in the sink, and the dusty stoneware she lugged from the cupboards stood waiting for its turn. The back of her dress was soaked with sweat, and she kept promising herself a dip in the creek as a reward before bed. She couldn’t believe how difficult it was just to get the baked-on food off the stove. How in the world did the maids do it at home?

The sound of wagon wheels pulling up to the house caught her attention. Peeking out through the kitchen window, she caught the tail end of a wagonette pulling around to the back.

“Hello, Miss Brooks—are you here?” A woman’s voice yelled from the front yard.

“Oh, goodness,” she murmured as she wiped her hands on her apron and attempted to smooth back her hair. She hoped she didn’t smell like rotting potatoes.

Out front, three women were climbing down from their conveyance. The first was a large woman with bright red hair and a large body. She wasn’t fat, just strong, and sturdy like a blacksmith. The second was an equally large woman, with the same broad face, but her hair was light brown. Hauling a bucket from the back of the wagon was a young girl with strawberry- blonde hair done in braids, and the same broad face as the older women.

“There you are! I am sorry to drop by unannounced, but I thought you might need a hand settling in. I am Mrs. Beechum, the mayor’s wife. This is my daughter, Maggie.” The girl smiled shyly from behind her mother.

“I am Mrs. Kerns,” the brunette woman introduced herself as she hefted a pile of rags and a mop from the wagon. “Mrs. Beechum’s sister.”

“I am so pleased to meet you. I apologize for the state of my home. I wasn’t expecting visitors yet,” Lilly apologized as a blush heated her cheeks. In the back of her mind, she kept on thinking of her mother’s hysterical reaction if she knew Lilly was entertaining the mayor’s wife in a sweat-soaked dress with black grease beneath her nails.

Mrs. Beechum marched up the creaky steps with purpose, her kind brown eyes doing an inspection from the beams to the wood floor in one sweep.

“Honestly, it’s better than I thought. Mostly dust and neglect. The roof still looks sound and I don’t see any animal droppings. You’re lucky your uncle kept the house so well sealed while he was gone.” Mrs. Beechum clucked her tongue. “Where are my manners? I am so sorry for your loss, dear. Jackson was a rogue, but he always kept his word and didn’t cause my husband any trouble.”

Mrs. Kerns began to wet a rag in the sink and poured some baking soda on it. “Mr. Brooks did me a good service one winter. My husband was brought low by an illness. Mr. Brooks gathered together a group of men and cut us enough wood to get us through the cold season.”

Lilly watched the women move about like an efficient cleaning army. She grabbed the horse brush from the bucket of grimy water and began to scrub off the stove again before one of the women beat her to it. “Thank you for your kind words, ladies. I admired my uncle very much. Every month he used to send my grandmother a letter, and we would read it together. I dreamed for days about what Uncle Jackson described in such vivid detail.”

Lilly smiled fondly through the open bedroom door at the splendid brass bed with its feather tick mattress. Uncle Jackson had caused quite a stir when he brought the bed into town. It came from a store in Kansas City, already assembled, and gleamed in the sun as Jackson drove it down the main street to the cabin in the back of his wagon. He wrote about the envious stares from the women and the grumbles from their husbands as they asked where they might purchase such a fine bed.

“Please don’t think I’m being rude, but my husband mentioned your run-in this morning down by the saloons.” Mrs. Beechum paused as she cleaned the globe of an oil lamp with vinegar. The sharp scent carried on the breeze from the windows.

Lilly groaned and almost covered her face with her grease and soot covered hands. “I didn’t know where I was. I’ve never been in a saloon district before.”

“Yes, well, I thought I might let you know the fashion of dress you were wearing is...a bit scandalous for this area of the country.” Mrs. Beechum set the lamp back down and moved on to the windows. “Please don’t think I’m being rude. I’m sure your dress is the height of fashion on the east coast. We just tend to be a bit more conservative in our everyday dress. Thank goodness Mr. McGregor was there to save you.”

Lilly clenched her jaw and plunged the brush into the bucket of water. Their Mr. McGregor was an utter rogue. Who knew how long he’d been staring at her before telling her that her bosom was falling out of her corset. To make matters worse, those faded blue eyes made her insides tighten just as much as her nipples. Everything about his rough demeanor attracted her, and he was beyond handsome in his Stetson. She might have given him a chance if he hadn’t called her a whore. Still, the thought of those firm lips going where his gaze had lingered made the seam of her bloomers rub against her in a most uncomfortable fashion.

Before she could tell Mrs. Beechum just what kind of scoundrel she thought Mr. McGregor to be, Mrs. Kerns chimed in.

“Oh yes, Mr. McGregor is a gentleman. Well, maybe not a total gentleman. He does have a fondness for the ladies.” The older women laughed while Maggie watched them with a curious expression on her plain face. “Did you know he’s also your neighbor?”

Lilly scrubbed the stove in stiff, jerking motions. “No, I was unaware of that.”
Wonderful
. All she needed was that man’s eyes stripping her of her clothing again when they passed on the road. Her mind wandered and she imagined how his tight butt would look on the seat of a horse with those strong hands holding the reins. Cursing her libido, she scrubbed the stove hard enough to send dirty suds flying in the air.

“Mr. McGregor’s ranch, the Tilted V, is two miles down the road to your east.” Mrs. Beechum gave her a curious glance as a clot of black foam landed in Lilly’s hair.

Maggie spoke for the first time since she’d arrived, her voice soft and sweet. “I didn’t notice a horse in your corral, Miss Brooks. If you need one, you should go to the McGregor Ranch. They breed the best horses in this area.”

Lilly sighed and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Maybe it was best if she confronted the devil and made him apologize for being such a beast. He had saved her from those filthy men, and possessed divinely broad shoulders.

Mrs. Beechum smiled fondly at her daughter. “Maggie loves horses, but she’s right, you’ll need a proper horse and carriage. It’s a four-mile walk from your home to the school. You don’t want to make that walk in the winter.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent exchanging gossip about the town, and Lilly telling the women about her family back east. Mrs. Beechum and Mrs. Kerns were at the clothesline beside the cabin, beating rugs, when once again, the creak of wagon wheels came from the road.

Lilly groaned in dismay at her appearance. Now she was sweaty, dirty, and had a large mustard stain on her collar from the delicious lunch the ladies had brought with them. A handsome barouche, drawn by two matching black horses, rounded the side of the cabin. Other than the size of the wheels, it wouldn’t have been out of place during a Sunday ride through the park in Hartford. The body of the barouche was a glossy black, and gold embellishments adorned the sides.

Lilly wet her hands in the sink and tried to smooth back her wild curls as much as possible. Maggie stared out the window, and dashed out the back door with her braids flying behind her. Giving the retreating figure a puzzled glance, Lilly went to greet her visitors.

An older silver-haired man with a long white mustache, dressed in a smart blue suit with a silver watch at his waist, swiveled to watch her come down the steps. On his head perched a tan hat with a wide leather band, and a pearl-handled gun gleamed from his belt. Next to him crouched a small sable-haired woman in a high-necked grey gown and pearl earrings. Much younger than her husband, she had a delicate beauty marred by a fading bruise on one cheek. She did not look up from her clasped hands as the barouche slowed down.

“Hello there! You must be Miss Brooks, the new schoolmarm,” the man said in a loud and jolly voice.

“I am Miss Brooks.” Lilly lifted the edge of her dress and walked down the steps, avoiding the dishes drying in the sun.

“My name is Lee Krisp, and this is my wife, Eunice. We’re your neighbors, on the other side of Willow Creek.”

The quiet woman next to him peeked from the edge of her bonnet for a second. Eunice’s eyes were a deep grey and they flitted over Lilly’s face before returning to her hands. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Brooks,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Krisp’s smile dropped from his face. It returned after a second with all its glory, his white mustache making his teeth appear a dull yellow. Lilly’s father used to say that you had to watch out for a man who smiled that much. It usually meant he was hiding something.

“Really? I thought Mr. McGregor was my only neighbor.” Lilly paused at the bottom step and looked up at Mr. Krisp.

This time the smile fell off his face entirely. “No, McGregor isn’t the only one around here that has land adjacent to yours. Speaking of which, I’d like to talk to you about what you intend to do with that land.”

That must be the real reason he was here. His dark eyes focused on her, as sharp as a hawk searching for its prey. Well, Lilly didn’t spend every summer helping at her father’s store without learning something about values and negotiation. As long as he was going to underestimate her, she’d likely find out more if she continued to play the ignorant socialite.

“Oh, I haven’t decided yet, but I might keep it,” she replied with a bright, empty smile. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with the land yet, but she did know that she wasn’t going to sell it off to the first person that asked.

Mr. Krisp stared at her in disbelief, apparently flabbergasted. “Keep it? What in the world is a young lady like you going to do with all that land? It’s not good for much.”

“Really, Mr. Krisp? Is that why you’ve been trying to buy it for the past fifteen years?” Mrs. Beechum called from the porch. She made a rather imposing figure with her arms crossed over her broad chest. Behind her stood Mrs. Kerns and Maggie, also giving Mr. Krisp disapproving glares.