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Authors: Pamela BAUER

Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) (12 page)

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“I’m glad Gabby and you did that ad in the newspaper thing.”

Wood smiled. It was nice to know this young man liked him even if his mother didn’t. “Thanks, Jeremy.”

“Have you ever been married, Wood?”

“Once.”

“Was it like being in prison?”

“No. Why would you ask that?”

“Cuz that’s what Mom calls it.”

Wood wondered what kind of relationship Hannah had had with Jeremy’s father that she would describe their marriage as a prison.

“Then how come you’re not married now?” Jeremy continued to question him.

“My wife didn’t like living in what she called the wilderness. She liked living in the big cities out East.”

“At least that won’t be a problem with Mom, will it.” He gave Wood a knowing grin.

Wood frowned. What was the kid talking about?

“You know, I think Mom’s beginning to like you. I heard her tell Gabby that you have possibility. Maybe she’s going to like this whole mail-order groom idea.”

Mail-order groom?

The words echoed like thunder. What was Jeremy talking about?

Fragments of conversations with Gabby Davis replayed in Wood’s memory. “Hannah needs a man” not “Hannah needs a hired hand.” “You’re going to be perfect for each other” not “You’re going to work well together.”

Wood could feel moisture beading on his brow. Could it be that this Alfred Dumler hadn’t come looking for work, but to marry Hannah Davis?

“Jeremy, you said you know the true reason why I’m here.”

The boy nodded.

“Would you tell me?”

He gave Wood a puzzled look, then said, “You’re going to marry my Mom. Well, you will if you can convince her this mail-order groom thing isn’t a bad idea.”

Chapter Eight

Marry his mother.

G
abby had placed an ad for a man—not to be hired help, but to marry Hannah. Alfred Dumler was a mail-order groom. And Wood was pretending to be Alfred Dumler—which meant Gabby expected him to marry her niece.

He shook his head and wondered if all folks in the twentieth century had such crazy notions. He had heard of mail-order brides, but women advertising for men? He shuddered. He supposed it went along with women not wanting men to protect them. What had happened in the last hundred and twenty-two years? Could it be there was a shortage of men?

Certainly Hannah didn’t lack suitors. Wood would bet money that the sheriff would fill that position in a minute given the opportunity. So why had Gabby done such a thing? And without Hannah’s knowledge?

“Wood?” Jeremy tugged on his sleeve, interrupting his musings. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What was that?”

“Do you want to help me collect eggs tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Good.” Jeremy went on to explain that the chickens were his business, his college money. He even showed Wood the list of his customers and the prices he charged. It was a needed distraction for Wood, who now found himself faced with not only being stuck in the wrong century but expected to enter an arranged marriage.

From Jeremy, Wood received a lesson in economics as he discovered inflation had made the little bit of money he owned nearly worthless. Why, Jeremy possessed greater wealth than he did.

“Can I ask you one more question?” Jeremy asked as he stood in the entrance to the chicken coop, finished with his chores.

“Okay, one more,” Wood agreed, expecting it would be on the topic of the mail-order groom. It wasn’t.

“Do you have any kids?”

“No.”

“That’s good. People who get divorced shouldn’t have kids.”

Wood detected a glimmer of sadness in the boy’s eyes. Despite his stoic attitude, he was still a boy without a father. Wood’s voice softened as he asked, “Do you miss your father, Jeremy?”

“No. I don’t need him. I can take care of myself.”

It was said with the same toughness Wood often heard in Hannah’s voice. Like mother, like son, Wood thought, causing him to wonder if Jeremy’s father could be the reason that Hannah didn’t want men around. Or perhaps it was a twentieth-century thing. It was possible that women of 1998 disliked men. Possible, but scientifically unlikely. It was, however, a frightening thought.

“Jeremy, you need to finish your homework.”

Wood turned and saw Hannah just outside the coop’s entrance.

“All right, I’m going,” Jeremy grumbled, calling out over his shoulder to Wood, “See you tomorrow.”

As soon as he was gone, Hannah turned on Wood, “You don’t need to feel sorry for us.”

“What makes you think I do?”

“I saw the look on your face when Jeremy spoke of his father.” She stiffened her shoulders. “We don’t need anyone’s pity. And especially not a man’s.”

“Every boy needs a father, Hannah,” he said gently.

“Another one of the unwritten rules of the male sex.”

“Perhaps it’s the voice of experience. I’ve been a young boy without a father.”

“And I’ve been a young girl without a mother.”

So they had more in common than she wanted to admit. She knew the pain of being without a parent, although from the set of her shoulders he could see that she didn’t want any sympathy from him.

“Why doesn’t Jeremy have a father?”

She stiffened. “He does, it’s just that the man chooses not to have a son.”

“He doesn’t want to be Jeremy’s father?”

“Bingo.” She walked away, pausing only to say, “We’ll need to start early in the morning.”

“Hannah, wait.” He followed her, grabbing her by the arm. “I’m sorry. The only reason I ask about Jeremy is because I think he’s a good kid.”

“Yes, he is,” she agreed. When she looked down at his hand on her arm, he released her.

“He misses having a father.” Wood stated simply.

“I know.” It was a muffled response that had him wanting to slide his arm around her and comfort her. He didn’t.

“There’s no chance that his father will ever return?”

She shook her head. “We met when I was eighteen. He was a hired hand who worked for my grandfather. Only here for the summer, but long enough for me to get pregnant.”

“Doesn’t he know that he has a son?”

“Oh, he knows,” she said bitterly. “When my grandfather found out I was pregnant, he hired someone to help us find him. Not that it did any good.”

“You couldn’t locate him?”

She made a sound of disgust. “We found him—in a small town in Wisconsin where he had already found someone to take my place. He didn’t care about me or the baby.”

For the first time he heard a vulnerability in Hannah’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he said compassionately, placing a hand on her arm.

Only she didn’t want his compassion. She slipped her arm out from his. “I’m not. He was a jerk.” The toughness was back in place. “So now you know about Jeremy’s father.”

“He’s a fool.” Wood shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to try to touch her.

“It doesn’t matter. Jeremy’s better off without him in his life.”

Wood didn’t contradict her.

“As far as I’m concerned, no male role model is better than a bad one,” she stated unemotionally.

“So now you hate all men,” he deduced aloud.

Her eyes flashed. “I don’t hate men.”

“No? Sure sounds that way to me.”

“I just don’t need them in my life. I know that’s not what most men want to hear. They want to think women are helpless and can’t make it without a man to take care of them. Well, this woman can take care of herself,” she said boldly, as if in warning. “You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” He moved toward her, his eyes pinning hers. “So you can quit worrying that I’m going to try to get you out of those tight trousers.”

“I...I’m not worried,” she stammered, backing away from him.

“Yes you are. Every time you look at me you act as if I’m going to rip off your clothes. You’re more skittish than that silver Arabian in your pasture.”

“Don’t ftatter yourself, Mr. Dumler,” she said icily.

He moved closer to her until his face was only inches from hers. This time she didn’t back away. She stood her ground, challenging him, eye-to-eye. Her breath was warm against his face, her chest pressed against his, tempting him to disregard his common sense. When her lips parted in an open invitation, Wood realized that she was enjoying their confrontation. She was challenging him to kiss her.

And if he were Alfred Dumler he would have. But he was Wood Harris and he belonged in 1876, not 1998. As much as he wanted to take Hannah in his arms and kiss her until those pretty little lips swelled to a deep pink, he was not going to do it. Because kissing Hannah Davis was not going to help him get back to his old life.

“You can put your mind at rest. If I’m going to rip off any clothing, it’s going to be a skirt, not a pair of trousers.”

His comment only fueled her anger. “That’s exactly the kind of sexist remark I’d expect a man like you to make.”

Wood wondered what a sexist remark was. Obviously, it was something distasteful to Hannah by the way she looked down her pretty little nose at him.

“If you expect to work for me, Mr. Dumler, I don’t want to hear any of that macho posturing. Strut your stuff elsewhere or there will be no job, got it?”

“I believe I do,” he replied soberly, although he had no idea what she was talking about.

She spun around and marched back to the house.

“Macho posturing?” Wood repeated as he watched her walk away. What in hell was she talking about? He shook his head in bewilderment.

No wonder Gabby had sent for a mail-order groom. Wood could almost feel sony for the man who tackled the job of marrying Hannah Davis. But then he remembered how her lips had tasted.... At any rate, it wasn’t something he need be concerned about. He wasn’t Alfred Dumler and he was not going to be anyone’s mail-order groom.

“I THINK YOU SHOULD let Wood have the loft,” Gabby told Hannah early one morning as she cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast. “He’s behaved like a perfect gentleman ever since he’s been here.”

Hannah couldn’t argue with her aunt when it came to Wood’s behavior. There was no lack of manners on his part.
Gallant
was the word that often came to Hannah’s mind when describing him, which was the reason she figured Gabby was so fond of him.

“He seems perfectly content out in the bunkhouse,” Hannah noted.

“There are no facilities out there,” Gabby pointed out.

“Grandfather always made the hired help stay there.”

“You said you weren’t going to do things your grandfather’s way,” Gabby reminded her. “If we gave him the loft we wouldn’t even know he was in the house.”

Hannah would know. Despite her resolution to treat Wood as if he were any other hired hand, she hadn’t been able to keep her body from responding to his in a purely physical way. He was too male and too handsome, which is why she found herself thinking about him often, as if she were a schoolgirl with a crush on the captain of the football team.

It was bad enough that they had to bump elbows and rub thighs in the combine, she didn’t want to have to worry about running into him in the privacy of her own home. No, letting Wood stay in the house would only create more tension between the two of them.

“You still don’t trust him, do you,” Gabby continued to plead his case.

“I gave him the job, didn’t I?” Hannah said wearily.

“Only because you were uncertain if Barry would be coming back.”

“The point is, I did hire him even though he didn’t know the first thing about corn or soybeans.”

“You think he lied about his background?” Gabby’s tiny mouth fell open.

“What I can’t figure out is, if he has all that experience working on farms, why does he act as if he’s never harvested before? Unless he’s suffered some kind of a mental breakdown and can’t remember.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! He’s not mentally ill!” Gabby vehemently defended him. “Is that why you won’t let him use the loft...because you think he’s crazy?”

“No, I don’t think he’s crazy,” Hannah answered honestly.

“Well, you shouldn’t.” Gabby was indignant on Wood’s behalf. “You talk to the man every day. He’s as normal as we are. And look at how good he is with Jeremy. You yourself said that once you show him something, he doesn’t forget, that he has a sharp mind.”

“He hasn’t got a clue when it comes to chemicals.”

“So they do things differently in the part of the country where he comes from. So what? Not everyone uses chemicals.”

Hannah understood Gabby’s defense of Wood. She wanted to think the best of him, too. She wanted to believe that she worried needlessly over his shortcomings.

“It isn’t just the chemicals,” Hannah continued. “There are times when he acts as if he doesn’t understand what we’re saying, like we’re speaking a foreign language or something. And did you see the look on his face when Jeremy pulled out his calculator and asked him for help with a math problem? You would have thought he’d never seen one before.”

“Because a man doesn’t surround himself with electronic gadgets doesn’t mean he’s a mental patient on the loose,” Gabby pointed out. “And he was able to help Jeremy with his math, without using a calculator. You saw how good he is with numbers.”

“I want to trust him, Gabby, honestly I do, but...”

“I think you should quit looking for reasons to discredit the man. He’s been a big help to us, especially with Barry not being here. And considering what we pay him, he’s quite a bargain.”

Hannah rubbed her forehead. “All right, all right,” she snapped impatiently. “You’ve made your point. He can have the loft.”

She didn’t need to worry that she had made a mistake caving in to her aunt’s pressure. When Wood came up to the house for breakfast, Gabby told him he was welcome to move his things into the house. To Hannah’s surprise, he turned down the offer.

“I appreciate you thinking of my comfort, but I think it’s best if I stay where I’m at,” Wood told the two women.

“Why is that?” Gabby asked.

He looked her straight in the eye and said, “Because it wouldn’t be proper.”

“Proper?” Hannah looked at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

“Being you are two single women,” Wood pointed out. “I wouldn’t want to dishonor you.”

BOOK: Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)

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