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Authors: Pamela BAUER

Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) (8 page)

BOOK: Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)
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“Even if we do get a place, you know you can always count on me if you’re in a bind.”
Hannah swallowed back the lump in her throat. She knew that if Barry had his own crops, there would be no time for him to help her. “That won’t be necessary, Barry. We’ll find someone to take your place. It’s just not going to be this particular someone.”
“Why? What’s wrong with him?” he asked.
Before Hannah could answer, Gabby told Barry about Wood. “He has lots of farming experience,” she ended. “I’m sure he’ll be a big help during harvest.”
“So where is this mystery man?” Barry asked.
“I thought he’d be down by now. Maybe you should go check on him,” Gabby said to Hannah.
“I’m sure he’ll be down in a few minutes.” Hannah remained at the table.
Gabby wiped her hands on her apron saying, “Well, if you’re not going to go, I will. He might have passed out again.”
Hannah shoved back her chair. “All right, I’ll do it.” She rolled her eyes at Barry before leaving the room. She took her time on the stairs, dreading having to see the man again. The bathroom door was shut when she arrived. She took a deep breath, then knocked.
“Wood, breakfast is ready. Are you coming down?”
There was no answer.
She knocked again. “Wood. It’s Hannah. Are you okay?”
Still, there was no reply.
Hannah began to wonder if something had happened to him. Maybe he had collapsed in the shower. She remembered how they had found him passed out on the ground last night.
She opened the door and was greeted by a wall of hot air. At least there was no body stretched out on the tile. Then she glanced at the tub. The shower curtain was pulled. “Wood?” Still, no response.
Cautiously, she pulled back the edge of the shower curtain. A small shriek escaped her lips at the sight of Wood immersed to his chest in a tub full of water.
His eyes were shut, his head sagging against the wall. Hannah didn’t know if he was sleeping or unconscious. She tried to focus her attention on his head and not the rest of his naked body which was in full view. “Wood!”
Suddenly his eyes flew open. When they saw Hannah, they were just as startled as hers. He grabbed the washcloth and covered as much of himself as it was possible to hide with an eight-inch square of cloth.
Not that it mattered, for Hannah had whipped the shower curtain shut with so much force it whooshed. She crossed the tiny bathroom floor as fast as her feet would carry her. From the doorway she called out, “Breakfast is ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
By the time she returned to the kitchen she was certain that her cheeks were still flaming. However, no one looked at her any differently than they had when she had left. Gabby simply inquired about Wood.
“Is he coming down?”
“In a few minutes.” Hannah steadied her trembling hands by shoving them into her jeans pockets.
“Well, at least he’s okay,” Gabby placed a lid over the stack of pancakes.
“Yup. He’s fine.”
Hannah sat down at the table and gave her attention to Barry, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget the sight of Wood naked in the water. It had been a shock to her system, seeing a stranger in all his glory, his knees bent so that his long legs could fit in the tub, the whiteness of his body a sharp contrast to the sunburned skin on his face and hands. With one quick glance, she had seen more of him than she wanted to see of any man.
She forced the memory from her mind and vowed she would act as though she hadn’t seen him at such a private moment. However, a few minutes later when he entered the kitchen, her entire body warmed.
Although he now wore a chambray shirt and a pair of faded twill work pants, she couldn’t forget that only minutes ago he had been naked. She didn’t want to stare at him, but she couldn’t help be a bit bewildered by the transformation he had made. She could hardly believe what a difference a bath and a razor made in his appearance. Gone was the stubble that had darkened his jaw, leaving a neat mustache. Shampoo had put some life back into hair that had clung to his skull as if it had been painted on his head. Hannah could see why Gabby had been impressed by a photograph of the neat and clean Wood. He was a handsome man.
But it was his eyes that captured her attention. There was something compelling in their dark sparkle, something besides the fact that they shared a secret with her, one which he found amusing but she found embarrassing. Despite her attempt to not allow him to intimidate her, she was the first one to look away.
“Why, look at you!” Gabby gushed enthusiastically. “Now you look like the man I expected. Come and meet Barry.” She ushered him over to the table where he sat down across from the younger man.
Gabby introduced the two men who both sized each other up with a critical eye. Hannah thought that next to Wood Dumler, Barry looked like a Boy Scout. Even after a bath and a shave Wood still looked rough around the edges.
“I hear you’ve come looking for a job,” Barry said amiably as Gabby set a stack of pancakes in front of Wood.
“Gabby thinks there’s enough work to warrant having another pair of hands around this place,” he answered.
“We can always use that, but I have to admit, Hannah does a pretty good job of running the place on her own.” Barry gave Hannah a smile of admiration.
“I expect she does,” Wood agreed. “She looks like a capable woman.”
Hannah’s head jerked in his direction. Capable? What was that supposed to mean? That she was sturdy looking? “You two don’t need to talk as if I’m not here,” she snapped.
“The boys could use coffee,” Gabby pointed out to Hannah, who welcomed the opportunity to get up from the table. Just because she had seen Wood Dumler in the all together didn’t mean she should act as if he were a man whose opinion mattered.
Because it didn’t. He was a stranger and one she didn’t plan to hire. It didn’t matter what he thought about her as a farmer or as a woman, and she needed to remind herself of that fact.
She retrieved the glass carafe from the coffeemaker, aware that Wood’s eyes followed her movement. As she leaned over his shoulder to fill his cup, she could smell the fresh scent of soap, and again the memory of him in the bathtub flashed in her mind.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Wood said softly, his eyes meeting hers.
She quickly looked away and moved over to Barry who appeared to be intrigued by Wood.
“So what made you want to come all the way from Nebraska to work in Minnesota?”
Wood exchanged glances with Gabby who answered for him, “He wanted to try something different, didn’t you, Wood?”
Wood nodded.
Barry pressed onward. “You ever harvest corns and soybeans?”
“I’ve never worked a farm this big,” Wood replied.
“And you won’t be working this one until you’re well.” Gabby set a bottle of syrup in front of Wood’s plate. It was apparent by the way she fluttered around Wood that she had become his champion. “Are you feeling any stronger?”
“I expect I will be once I eat these cakes.”
“Help yourself to butter and syrup, Wood,” Gabby instructed.
Wood set his fork down and reached for the plastic bottle. He studied it for several seconds before Gabby said, “That’s a pop top. You just push up.”
Long fingers fumbled with the top and finally managed to open the bottle. He poured a liberal serving over the pancakes.
Hannah couldn’t help but notice the size of his hands. They were large, but they weren’t callused nor did they appear to be hardened from doing physical labor. They looked more like the hands of a surgeon than a farm hand.
“You forgot to give Wood a knife,” Gabby observed and went over to the drawer to get him one.
Hannah tried to make eye contact with her aunt, wanting to discourage her from giving Wood the utensil. Gabby, however, seemed oblivious to Hannah’s efforts. She plunked a stainless steel knife down next to Wood’s place with a satisfied, “There you go.”
Wood didn’t miss the apprehensive look Hannah cast in her aunt’s direction. Hannah Davis didn’t trust him. Nor did her hired hand. That much was certain.
Wood didn’t know what he could say to earn their trust, or if it even mattered. If he could figure out how to time travel back to 1876, he wouldn’t need to pretend to be this Alfred person. If not, he’d have to rely on Gabby to help him play the part.
“Maybe you want to come out with me this morning,” Barry suggested. “I could use some help sweeping out the bins, and you could get an idea of how things work around this place.”
“He needs to rest this morning,” Gabby responded before he could. “And if he’s feeling better this afternoon, I’m going to take him to town to get a few things.”
“You aren’t supposed to drive until you get your new glasses,” Hannah reminded her.
“I can see fine.” Gabby dismissed her concern with a flap of her hand.
“Not distance,” Hannah retorted.
“No one has to take me.” Wood spoke up. He looked at Hannah and said, “If you let me take one of your horses, I expect I can get to town on my own.”
Hannah exchanged looks with Barry and Gabby. It was Gabby who finally said, “No one rides a horse to town in these parts, Wood. Hannah probably wouldn’t mind if you borrowed the old pickup in the garage.”
“Only if you have a valid driver’s license,” Hannah added.
Wood felt three pairs of eyes on him. What in the world were they talking about?
When he didn’t say anything, Hannah repeated, “Do you have a driver’s license, Wood?”
He knew there was no point in pretending he did. “No. It’s not necessary where I come from.”
The way the three of them were staring at him Wood would have thought he had an extra eye on his head. Was there some law in Minnesota that required farmers to have a license to drive their horses?
Gabby broke the uneasy silence. “You really don’t need a license here on the farm, either. No one’s going to check.”
Hannah disagreed. “Wait a minute. I’m not going to let an unlicensed driver on any of my equipment.”
“You’ve been taking that stuff out since you were a kid,” Gabby reminded her.
“Yes, but I had an adult with me most of the time. Driving a beat-up old pickup is one thing. The combine is another. It’s too expensive to leave in the hands of someone who’s not experienced.”
Wood felt as if he had fallen into a sink hole. He was beginning to think the smartest thing to do would be to admit that he wasn’t Alfred Dumler and that he hadn’t come for a job. Then he looked at Hannah and thought about the insane asylum. He kept silent.
“My wife’s cousin runs a driving school over in Harmony. He could probably take lessons there,” Barry suggested.
“There you go. That problem is solved,” Gabby said cheerfully.
Hannah did not look as if she liked the solution one bit. She pushed back her chair and stood. “We need to get to work.” She looked at Barry, who finished his coffee, then rose to his feet.
Wood watched Hannah walk over to a pegged rack on the wall, reach for a cap and slip it over her blond curls. “We’ll be back around noon,” she told Gabby. To Wood she said, “You have this morning to get your act together.”
Then she stomped out the back door leaving Wood to wonder what it meant to get an act together. Did she think he was a stage performer?
“Don’t-worry about it, Wood.” Gabby patted his hand reassuringly. “She’ll show you how to run the equipment. Once she gets to know you, everything will be just fine.”
Wood nodded in agreement, although he should have said the only way things would be
just fine
would be if he could figure out a way to get back to 1876. Right now he wanted no part of running any equipment—whatever it might be.
He needed to go back to his old life. He hadn’t died by the noose, and he sure as hell didn’t want his old life to be dead. It didn’t matter how pretty Hannah Davis was. He wasn’t going to live the rest of his life as a twentieth-century farmer.
Chapter Five
“A
re you sure you’re feeling all right?” Gabby asked Wood as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. “Yoo-hoo, Wood?” She waved a hand in front of his face.
Wood looked at her. “What is it, Gabby?”
“You’ve been staring at that clock on the wall for so long now I thought you might have fallen asleep with your eyes open.”
Wood knew what she said was true. He had been staring at the clock, waiting for each movement of the large hand. He found it amazing that a hundred and twenty-two years had passed in barely the blink of an eye, yet now each minute seemed to take an eternity to tick away.
In the strangeness of his surroundings, the clock was the only thing in the room which had any significance for him. Why or how he had traveled through time, he didn’t know, but he wished he could find the answers in the timepiece hanging on the wall.
“Have you ever lost track of time, Gabby?”
“Sure. Hasn’t everyone?”
“Perhaps,” he answered. Only he hadn’t lost track of time. It had lost track of him. If time had simply passed, he’d be one hundred and fifty-six years old. He looked down at his hands. They were the hands of a thirty-four-year-old man, as was the face that had stared at him in the mirror this morning.
His bewilderment must have shown on his face for Gabby said, “Maybe you ought to lie down?”
Wood wondered if she would be this concerned for his health if she knew that he was not the prospective hired hand, Alfred Dumler, but a man who had been about to be hanged? It wasn’t likely.
“I doubt rest is going to cure the jumbled mess I’m in,” Wood said cryptically.
“What is it, Wood? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
The concern on her face tugged at his conscience. He didn’t want to deceive her, yet what choice did he have? With no place to call home, he needed her help if he was going to find a way back to his previous life.
“I can’t remember how I arrived here, Gabby. It’s as if one minute it was Tuesday and then all of a sudden it was Thursday and whatever happened in between is gone from my memory,” he said honestly.
“That’s because you’ve been sick, Wood. From the heat. I’m guessing that you might have had to hitchhike part of the way in the hot sun and—”
“Hitchhike?” he interrupted.
She nodded. “I know you had planned to come on the bus, but maybe for some reason you couldn’t take the bus and you ended up hitchhiking. Maybe you got as far as the interstate and had to walk the rest of the way with your suitcase. Spending hours in the sun dressed in heavy clothing could have brought on exhaustion.”
Although he knew that wasn’t the case, he nodded all the same. “It’s important to me that I recollect how I came to be in your cornfield,” he told her. “Who was the first person to find me?”
“That was Jeremy. I was waiting for you at the house in case you called. You were late, but then so was the bus.”
“Perhaps then Jeremy can help me. It is possible that my memory could return if I were to visit the place where he found me. Do you think he could be persuaded to accompany me to that particular location?”
“You mean the Nelson forty?”
Wood nodded.
“Jeremy’s in school until three, but as soon as he comes home I’ll have him take you there.”
“I would appreciate that.” He reached out to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “You are a kind woman, Gabby Davis.”
She leaned closer to him and looked him straight in the eye. “I want you to be honest with me, Wood. You’re not supposed to be in a psychiatric ward of some hospital right now, are you?”
“No, I’m not crazy, Gabby. You believe that, don’t you?”
“I do,” she said sincerely. “I wouldn’t have brought you here for Hannah if I thought you weren’t right, up here.” She tapped a bony finger to her forehead. “And I thank you for not telling Hannah that I was the one who wrote to you.”
“Are you certain this is the best plan for your situation?”
“Oh, yes,” she said anxiously. “Hannah needs a man. It all comes down to the same thing. M-o-n-e-y,” she spelled out.
Suddenly Wood had an uneasy feeling. Was this Alfred person supposed to help these two women with their financial woes? If so, his web of deceit could end up trapping him but good. What money he had was locked up in a bank in Missouri—or at least it was in 1876.
“I’m not a man of means, Gabby,” Wood confessed soberly.
“I know that, Wood. I picked you because of who you are, not because of how much money you have.”
Wood was afraid he had offended her. “Of course. I didn’t mean to offend your integrity.”
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “All that matters is that you and Hannah hit it off. Isn’t that what’s important in situations like this?”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, unsure what
hit it off
meant.
“First she needs to get used to having you around, then she’ll see for herself what a special man you are...” she trailed off with a dreamy look on her face. “I think you’re going to be just perfect for her.”
Guilt punched Wood in the stomach. He had no intention of staying and becoming Hannah’s “perfect” hired hand. “I mean no disrespect, Gabby, but Hannah appears to be eager for me to leave.”
“Oh, no, she’s not. She’s agreed to let you stay for a couple of days.”
“She told you that?”
“Oh, yes. And I’m hoping two days will lead to three and then four and so on and so on...” She gave him a shy expectant grin.
Wood didn’t know how long he would need the Davises’ hospitality. Hopefully, the real Alfred Dumler wouldn’t make his presence known until Wood had traveled back to 1876.
“And if she wants me to leave after the two days are up?” he queried.
“That’s where it’s up to you to convince her to let you stay. Whether or not Hannah wants to admit it, she needs someone like you.”
Wood was quite certain that Hannah wouldn’t agree, but he didn’t contradict the old lady. Right now Gabby Davis was his only ally.
“No matter how long I stay, I want you to know that I’ll work for my keep.”
“Until our plan works?”
If that plan included a job, Wood couldn’t say no. “Yes, ma’am. What about Hannah? What do I do to convince her I can do the job?”
“First thing, you need to show her that you’re smart. One thing she can’t stand is foolishness.” She wagged her finger at him. “And you have to show her you mean business. I’m warning you, it’s going to be a challenge.”
“You sound as if you want to help me,” he said with a smile.
“I do,” Gabby said. “But it’s going to be tough.” Gabby went on. “Hannah’s a bit hard-headed at times. You spend an hour with me and I’ll tell you what you need to know to fit in around here. But first we need to get you some clothes and a haircut.” She appraised him for several seconds and added, “Well, maybe the hair’s all right.”
“And my mustache?”
“It looks like it’s been there a long time.”
Wood smiled and thought to himself. Oh, if you only knew how long.
 
“WHERE IS HE?” Hannah asked as she stepped into the kitchen and saw Gabby at the stove.
“Are you talking about Wood?” Gabby looked up from gravy she was stirring.
“Yes, I mean Wood.” She slipped her baseball cap onto the rack near the door. “I don’t suppose we’re lucky enough to have him on the bus that left Stanleyville at ten.”
Gabby shot her a reproving look. “He’s resting. I think by tomorrow he’ll be able to help you with the chores.”
“I don’t want him helping me with the chores,” she retorted. “What I want is to send him packing. Oops, forgot.” She gave her aunt a contrite look. “Can’t pack when you have nothing to pack, can you?”
Gabby made a gesture as if she might whack Hannah with her wooden spoon.
“Just go tell him lunch is ready, will you?”
Reluctantly, Hannah went to fetch Wood from the bunkhouse. “Okay, Wood Dumler, time to get up,” she called out, marching into the bunkhouse in a military fashion.
When there was no answer, she mumbled to herself, “My goodness, you do sleep soundly. Wood!” she shouted.
Still, there was no movement from the bunk area. As Hannah crossed the wooden floor, she saw him spread out on a cot, his stomach to the mattress, his torso bare. “I suppose I should be grateful he’s at least wearing pants,” she murmured as she approached the bed.
It only took a moment for Hannah to realize why he slept on his stomach. Dark, ugly bruises covered his back. She clutched her midsection, sickened by the thought of what kind of pain had been inflicted to cause the discoloration on Wood’s back. He said he had fallen from a horse, but unless he had been dragged on the ground, she doubted any fall would produce so many contusions.
This time when she called out his name, he awoke. He seemed surprised to see her standing there. As he rolled to his side, he grimaced, obviously in discomfort. As soon as he saw the sympathy on Hannah’s face, he tried to act as if nothing was wrong.
“Why does your back look like a stampede of cattle crossed it?” she asked.
“Perhaps one did.” He reached for the shirt at the foot of the bed.
“Don’t be flip with me, Wood.”
“Flip?”
“I want a straight answer.”
He stood, so that he towered over her, then leaned close and said next to her ear, “I encountered the wrong folks on my way to Minnesota.”
If he had wanted to shock her, he succeeded. “You’ve been beaten.” Hannah shuddered as she realized that he must have been bound and gagged. It would explain why there were rope bums on his neck and wrists.
He turned around, as if suddenly modest, to slip on his shirt.
“You need to put some dressings on your back,” she advised him.
He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the tube of analgesic creme she had given him that morning. “I’ve been using this.”
“You need something stronger. Come with me.”
“You don’t have to...” He started to protest but she hushed him.
“Come with me,” she ordered.
He did, following her across the yard and to the house. Gabby’s eyes twinkled as she watched Hannah drag their guest by the hand, through the kitchen, the front of his shirt partially buttoned. Up the stairs they went, this time Hannah pushing Wood in front of her as they climbed.
Once they were in the bathroom, she had him remove his shirt while she rummaged through one of the cupboards. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for—a halfempty bottle of a yellow liquid.
“This is a strong liniment the doctor prescribed for me when I fell off the roof last fall. I had some bruises that looked almost as bad as those.” She grimaced as she examined his back.
“What were you doing on the roof?”
“Trying to fix the TV antenna. It got all twisted around during a storm, and Gabby was upset because she couldn’t watch her soaps,” she said as she unscrewed the cap.
Wood had no idea what a TV antenna was or why Gabby would want to watch soap, but he could picture Hannah on the roof, and the thought sent a chill through him. “Forgive me for sayin’ so, ma’am, but a woman should not climb a roof. That’s man’s work.”
She poured a small puddle of the liquid into her palm and paused. “Just for the record, Wood, there is no man’s work or woman’s work here on the farm. It’s just plain old work. Not that it matters, because in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a man. I am, however, a
capable
woman,” she reminded him of his own words. “Now turn a bit and I’ll put this on for you.”
She had a gentle, soothing touch that had Wood closing his eyes as she spread the liniment across his battered and bruised flesh. It was a bittersweet experience, her fingers applying the balm tenderly to the painful contusions.
“Sorry,” she murmured when he flinched from the discomfort. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” He wanted her to rub not only his back, but his chest as well. And his arms, his legs... He shook his head at the improper direction his thoughts were headed.
It did no good. Hannah’s touch created a physical reaction in him that couldn’t be denied. He only hoped he could prevent her from seeing it.
He couldn’t. As she finished his back, she craned her head around his front side to see if there were any bruises on his chest. As she did, she noticed the bulge in trousers that were already too tight for him.
“Well, I’ll leave you to finish.” She set the bottle on the cabinet, her cheeks red, her eyes avoiding his. “You can use this wherever you have soreness. I’d better go help Gabby with lunch.”
Without another word or a glance in his direction, she left.
 
HANNAH ALWAYS CLEANED the kitchen after their noon meal, giving Gabby a chance to take her daily nap. Today she would have liked to exit the house as fast as possible. Lunch with Wood had been an unsettling experience. While Gabby had chatted with him as if he were a long-lost friend, Hannah had sat awkwardly, feeling as if she were the unwanted visitor, not he.
BOOK: Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)
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