Blackstone's Bride (5 page)

Annoyed, she walked across the hall. She went into her own room and shut the door as if demons from hell were chasing her.

Jarrod Blackstone was a dangerous man. At least he was to her. And probably to every other unattached woman within two hundred miles of here.

Why in the world had she agreed to find him a housekeeper? That meant she would have to arrange it and transport her out to his ranch. That meant she’d have to see him again soon. She shook her head. When she left here tomorrow morning, she didn’t want to set eyes on him, at least not without a whole town full of people between her and him.

Abby crawled back into bed, pulled the quilt over her head, and rolled on her side. She wanted to tell Jarrod she’d changed her mind and he’d have to come into town and find a housekeeper all by himself. But she had already promised. More than anything, she hated people who broke their word.

Abby overslept the next morning
. She had wanted to be up and gone at first light. Instead, thoughts of Jarrod had kept her awake until just before dawn. Sunlight poured through her window, but she was too tired and cross to appreciate it. Now she would have to face Jarrod Blackstone.

The gentle, patient way he’d handled his niece during the night was far too fresh in her mind. The scene brought back memories of her own father, and renewed her determination to find him. She had dreamed too long about living with her father again to let anything stand in her way. Especially her softening feelings for Jarrod Blackstone. With luck, he was off doing all those chores that kept him too busy to find his own darn housekeeper.

Using the pitcher of water and the basin on her dresser, Abby washed up. After dressing, she tried to fix her hair. Without a comb and brush, there wasn’t much she could do. Finally, she grabbed her hat from the bedpost and went downstairs. At the bottom of the steps she stopped and looked around.

Abby had fallen in love with this house the first time she’d seen it. The wooden floors and French doors in the
living room and parlor gave it an elegant, yet surprisingly cozy feel.

She remembered when the living room suite was delivered, shipping weight two hundred pounds, three dollars per pound from Chicago to Sacramento by rail, then on to Hollister by wagon. The large sofa, easy chair, and two large parlor chairs were made of three-tone green velour. They were overstuffed with hardwood frames, fancy binding, and rococo brass ornamentation. The pieces were arranged before the hearth in the front room with three beautifully carved oak tables, shipping weight sixty pounds.

Abby wondered how it would hold up with four active children. She’d never lived with furniture so fine and had no idea. Still, the kids had the land to explore. She supposed they wouldn’t spend much time inside.

With her hat in her hands, she went to the kitchen. Before she entered, she heard the sound of voices.

“But I’m hungry, Lily,” Oliver said.

“My stomach’s about wearin’ a hole in my backbone too, Lil.” Tom said pleadingly.

“Me too,” Katie added.

“What do you want me to do?” Lily asked. “I’ve already checked. There’s no food in the kitchen. Remember when Abby fixed us supper last night? She had to rummage through the bunkhouse.”

“Then let’s go down there,” Tom suggested.

“We can’t do that,” Lily answered. “It wouldn’t be right to go through other folks’ food. And don’t tell me to ask Uncle Jarrod, Katie. You know as well as I do that he’s not here.”

Abby sighed. She wanted to get on the road. But again, she couldn’t go when the children were hungry and alone.

She walked into the room. The four of them sat around the table with dispirited expressions on their faces.

“Good morning,” Abby said. “Did everyone sleep well?”

“All except Katie,” Lily answered.

“Yes, I know.” Abby rested a hand on the top of the little girl’s ladder-back chair.

“She hasn’t slept through the night since Mama died,” Lily explained.

Tom made a face at his younger sister. “She’s a baby.”

“Am not,” Katie said, thrusting her bottom lip out.

The circles beneath her eyes were darker this morning. Abby wondered what kind of shape their uncle was in after staying up with her. Instantly, an image of Jarrod Blackstone’s bare chest flashed through her mind. The memory of his broad shoulders made her insides flutter. He was definitely a man.

“Oliver’s the baby,” Katie said.

“Am not,” he piped up.

“You’re the youngest—”

“That’s enough.” Abby looked at the four faces around the table. This was all new to them; they were understandably upset. But someone had to take control before things got out of hand.

“You need some breakfast,” Abby said.

Lily nodded. “But we didn’t know if we should get some or not.”

“Of course you should.”

Just then they heard the sound of boots on the back porch. The kitchen door opened and Jarrod came inside, carrying several burlap bags. He glanced around, looking uncomfortable.

“Mornin’, everyone,” he said.

A chorus of greetings hailed him. Katie jumped up from her chair and ran to meet him. He set the bags down and stared at the little girl beside him.

“What did you bring, Uncle Jarrod?”

“Food,” he said.

“Why isn’t the kitchen stocked?” Abby wanted to know.

Jarrod’s gaze met hers. “I take my meals in the bunkhouse with the ranch hands,” he explained. “No need to stock the house too.”

He seemed pretty chipper for a man who’d sat up with a little girl for half the night. Abby wished she looked even half that good. But she noticed that a shadow of beard covered his
chin and jaw. He hadn’t shaved yet this morning, and he seemed the sort of man who would unless something had unsettled him. Finding out you were the guardian of four children could do that. Had he overslept? Abby hoped she wasn’t the only one.

“No need to stock it until now,” Abby reminded him.

“Until now,” he agreed. He slid a look to the little girl peering into the sacks, then picked the bags up and moved them to the worktable beside the iron stove. “I brought bacon, flour, sugar, coffee—”

“The children shouldn’t drink coffee,” Abby cautioned.

“I like it,” Tom said. He sent her a challenging look.

Abby met his gaze. “Maybe so, Tom. But you’re too young to have it.”

“Who’re you to tell me—”

“Hold on. That’s no way to talk to your elders, son,” Jarrod said. He looked around at all of them. “The most important thing right now is food, and lots of it.”

He’s right, Abby thought. These children needed fattening up.

“The only thing I didn’t bring is eggs,” Jarrod added as he placed the food in the cupboards. “I don’t suppose anyone would want to gather some for me.”

“I will,” Katie said.

“I wanna,” Oliver chimed in, running over to his uncle with his sister on his heels.

Both children looked up at Jarrod. He was so tall Abby wondered if they could see his face. Their heads were tipped so far back, Abby held her breath, waiting for the youngsters to topple over backward.

Jarrod hunkered down to their level. “Can you do it without breaking them?” Both children nodded solemnly. “All right, then. Go on down to the bunkhouse and ask Gib to show you where the hens are.”

“Oh, boy!” They raced out the back door, Katie first because her legs were just a little longer than her brother’s.

Suddenly the door opened again and Katie ran back inside and stopped in front of Abby. “I forgot somethin’.”

Abby bent down. “What?”

“I forgot to give you a hug.”

Abby held the little girl against her. When small arms encircled her neck, Abby didn’t mind the fingers that caught in her hair. It would take a heart of stone to resist this child’s inborn sweetness. Katie stepped back and accidentally yanked on Abby’s braid. The minor discomfort was lost in Katie’s generous show of affection. The little girl ran over to her uncle and repeated the gesture. Moved by Katie’s actions, Abby sniffled and turned away.

“You better hurry.” Jarrod’s husky voice raised goose bumps on Abby’s arms. She looked in time to see him tap Katie’s chin kindly. “Oliver will find all the eggs.”

Blond curls bounced as she shook her head. “No, he won’t.” Katie raced out the door again.

Jarrod looked at Abby uneasily, then at his oldest niece. “Lily? I hate to ask you this, but do you know how to cook?”

She nodded. “Mama taught me a long time ago. After Pa died she had to work. She needed me to take care of Tom and Katie and Oliver.”

“Don’t need takin’ care of,” Tom grumbled.

Abby’s heart went out to Lily. The girl hadn’t said a word in complaint, but Abby knew how hard things had been for her. Wanting to play, to be with girls her own age, but forced to help out at home because she was the oldest. Abby understood, as no one else could who hadn’t gone through the same thing.

A pained expression crossed Jarrod’s face at Lily’s words. “If I had known how bad things were, I’d have done something. I want you to believe that.”

Lily nodded. “I do. Mama was proud. She didn’t want charity from anyone, at least not for herself. If it was something for us—”

“I’m gonna go help find eggs,” Tom said. “We’ll starve if we have to wait for them two.”

“Those two,” Jarrod corrected.

Tom started for the door. As he passed, Abby put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

He shrugged off her hand. “Don’t touch me.”

“Why not?” she asked, surprised at his vehemence. Katie had said he didn’t like her, but the look in his gray eyes was downright hostile.

“You’re a girl,” he responded, wrinkling his nose.

“He’s definitely family,” Abby said, glancing at Jarrod as she tried to make a joke to cover her hurt feelings. “He states the obvious just like you.” Then she turned back to Tom.

“What?” he asked, his tone sullen.

“I was just going to remind you to watch out for your brother and sister.”

He stared at her for a few moments, then nodded. “Can I go now? Before those two squirts find all the eggs?”

“Git,” Jarrod said. “Don’t scare the hens,” he called out just before the door slammed. He looked at Lily. “Why don’t you go with the others?”

“I thought you wanted me to cook. I should start making biscuits. When they come back with the eggs—”

“I’ll start breakfast,” he said. “Abby will help. Right, Abby?” he asked, and glanced at her questioningly.

She’d wanted to get on the road, but how could she refuse to help? “Can’t let a man make biscuits, can we?” She smiled at Lily. “You run along.”

The young girl beamed at the two of them, then turned and ran out the door as if afraid they might change their minds. Far from doing that, Abby was more convinced than ever that she had to keep her word to Jarrod. The feelings he stirred in her were strange and unsettling, but she couldn’t take the safe path for herself and abandon these children. Especially Lily. She deserved to be a child until it was time for her to be a young woman.

As she stared outside, Abby heard a clang and crash behind her. She turned and studied the play of muscles across Jarrod’s back as he stoked the stove and stirred up the fire. He cut the slab of ham into pieces and tossed them into the cast-iron frying pan.

He glanced over his shoulder and caught Abby staring at
him. When she closed her mouth, he grinned. “You gonna stand there? Or are you gonna make those biscuits you promised?”

“I didn’t promise exactly. I said a man couldn’t be trusted to make biscuits. I really should get on back to town.”

“You can, after you eat.”

The sound of sizzling meat was followed by a delicious aroma that made her mouth water. “I shouldn’t,” she said, but the words lacked conviction. “My job is waiting for me. And it’s a long drive.”

“You must be hungry. You need to keep up your strength.”

She was starved, and the bacon smelled heavenly. She swallowed. “Not that hungry. If I could just have some jerky and hardtack, I could chew on that while I head back.”

“Stay, Abby. Breakfast won’t hold you up long.” Gray eyes met her own. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“What about?” She was weakening. Darn it. He was awfully hard to say no to.

“Things. The kids.”

He didn’t seem like the sort of man who asked for much, and that made it impossible for Abby not to give in. She sighed. “Right after breakfast I
have
to get back.”

“Is Whittemore a hard man to work for?”

She grinned. “He’d like folks to think he is, but he’s a faker.”

“How did you happen to go to work for Hollister Freight?”

Abby pulled a bowl from the cupboard, then measured flour into it. “Mr. Whittemore was a friend of my mother’s. I needed a good paying job. He did me a favor. He’s told me more than once that he didn’t think I could handle it when he hired me. But I’ve never given him cause to regret his decision.”

Jarrod knew from first-hand experience that she was tenacious. And conscientious. Not many people came to mind who would take the time to bring four kids all the way
out to the ranch, then stay because they were all alone. He hoped Abby’s kindness hadn’t jeopardized her position.

“Will Whittemore give you a hard time when you get back?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.” He jabbed a piece of ham with a fork and flipped it.

“So what about the children?” she asked, stirring the biscuit mixture.

Where did he start? In less than twenty-four hours his life had turned upside down. The welfare of four children was his responsibility, a fact that had kept him up half the night. He was tired. And not just on account of Katie.

After she had finally settled down, he’d tried to sleep. Every time he came close, a vision of Abby’s wild red hair and big blue eyes jolted him awake. He couldn’t forget the curve of her slender shoulder when her quilt had slipped down. Or her charming embarrassment when Katie had asked if she was naked under the blanket. It surprised him just how much he wanted to touch and explore what he couldn’t see. He couldn’t remember a time that a woman had tempted him this sorely. He’d spent the remainder of the night trying to push those thoughts from his mind. But it was daylight now, and he had far more important things to worry about.