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Authors: Pamela BAUER

Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) (9 page)

BOOK: Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)
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It was an unusual experience for her—being intimidated by a man. Normally with a couple of pointed looks and a few sharp words she could send the message that she was not a woman who wanted or needed a man’s attention. But she didn’t feel like her normal self when she was in Wood’s company. Her emotions acted like the jumping beans Jeremy had brought home from the county fair—she never knew which way they’d move.
That’s why when Gabby went upstairs to take her nap, she said to Wood, “You probably want to go back to the bunkhouse and rest.”
Wood stared at her, twirling his fork between his fingertips. “I feel rested, thank you. Gabby said I should ask you what you want me to help you do.”
There was something disturbing about the way he coolly looked her up and down as he spoke to her. She decided to take the offensive rather than let him put her on the defensive.
“Look, if you’re feeling well enough to work, then I guess you’re well enough to travel.” She didn’t want to be rude, but she wanted him out of her house.
“What about the job?” he asked.
“There is no job. Gabby should have never said that there was.” Hannah started clearing the dishes from the table to avoid looking at his eyes. “I’m sorry if it’s caused you any inconvenience, but that’s the way it is.”
He stopped playing with his fork. “This morning you told me I could stay a few days and prove that I can do the job.”
“I changed my mind.”
She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to look at him.
“I should have known this was coming. It’s because of what happened in the bath, isn’t it?”
“Hardly,” she denied vehemently. “I’ve seen naked men before, Mr. Dumler,”
“That may be, but then why is it every time your eyes meet mine your cheeks turn pink?”
She turned to face him, determined not to blush. “You think I’m embarrassed?”
“It’s understandable. Walking in on a man at a most private moment would cause any respectable lady’s cheeks to blush.” His dark eyes sparkled with amusement.
Hannah couldn’t believe her ears! He was talking to her as if she had deliberately tried to sneak a peek at his private parts.
“Only because you didn’t answer the door. I thought you might have fallen and bumped your head...or passed out or something,” she explained, her voice rising as she clanged cups and glasses together.
“I dozed off for a few minutes.”
Again, the memory of him in that tub of water flashed in her mind, and she felt her body warm. She wished she had never pulled that damn shower curtain open. But she had, and she had looked at him and as much as she wanted to deny it, she had seen
all
of Wood Dumler.
“It doesn’t matter.” She dismissed the subject, hoping that at the same time she could get rid of the image of him in that tub. She didn’t. “What we should be discussing is when you plan to leave.”
The sparkle of humor left his eyes. “Gabby warned me you might give me the heave-ho.”
“Did she also tell you that I didn’t answer your ad?”
He nodded. “She said you’re too stubborn to admit you need help. She also said something about you wanting to prove that a woman can run this farm without a man.”
“I can,” she said with a lift of her chin.
“I guess I don’t see why you wouldn’t want another strong pair of hands.”
“It’s not the hands I object to, it’s the body that goes with them,” she retorted, then carried a stack of plates over to the sink.
He got up out of his chair and followed her. “Am I supposed to take that in its literal sense?”
He wanted to make her blush and he succeeded. “You can take it any way you like.”
“Does that mean if I promise to keep my clothes on I can stay?” he asked.
Once again Hannah couldn’t believe her ears. He was flirting with her. Unwanted, came a physical response that started somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. It was a series of tremors she couldn’t locate but she knew they were there just the same. She needed to squelch it quickly.
“This has nothing to do with what happened when you were in the tub,” she stated in as dull a tone as she could muster. “I don’t need your help.”
“Because I’m a man?”
His proximity caused her pulse to flutter and she sidestepped him to collect the pots and pans from the stove. “Why is it when a woman doesn’t want or need the help of a man, you men think it’s a sexual issue?” she asked, slamming the dishes onto the cupboard with a clatter.
“Isn’t it?” His dark brown eyes didn’t waver from her face.
“No.” She plunged her hands into the soapy dishwater to keep them from trembling. “For someone who desperately wants a job, you’re not winning any points with the boss,” she warned.
He stepped even closer and her heartbeat went up another notch. “Pardon me, ma’am, if I offended you. I was merely making an observation. I apologize for any inconsiderate comments I may have made. Attribute it to my ignorance. I’ve never been on a farm run by women.”
His apology disarmed her. One minute he was flirting with her, the next he was sincerely contrite. “Maybe you’d have trouble working for a woman?”
“I don’t believe I would.”
“Have you ever worked for a woman before?”
“No, but that does not mean I would have difficulty working for you. I know this is your farm and you’re going to do things your way. I respect that. I’m a hard worker, Hannah. I could help you if you’d let me.”
When those brown eyes softened, so did her resistance. “I’m sorry, but the truth is I can’t afford to pay another hired hand.”
“All you have to give me is a roof over my head and three meals a day,” he told her. “I don’t expect any wages.”
“That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“It’s all I need for now.”
Hannah could hardly believe that she was considering saying yes. She knew little about him other than the fact that he had been beaten and now appeared to have no place to go other than her farm. Her common sense screamed not to listen to her heart that saw the plea for compassion in those compelling brown eyes.
“Let me think it over,” she heard herself say.
 
WOOD SPENT most of the afternoon watching the clock. Ever since Gabby had told him Jeremy would be home at three-thirty, he had been edgy as he waited for the boy to return from school. Gabby thought he needed more rest, but what he needed was to find a way back to his sister. Right now, Jeremy appeared to be the only one with information that could possibly help him.
“Wow. You look different,” the lad said when he saw Wood waiting for him on the porch steps.
“I had a bath.” Wood stood, feeling uneasy in his twentieth-century trousers. “The clothes don’t fit.” He tugged on the cuff of the denim shirt.
Outlaw, who had been at Jeremy’s side ever since he had hopped off the school bus, now transferred his affection to Wood, sniffing at his leg. Wood automatically reached down to scratch the dog’s ears.
“Outlaw likes you. He’s the one who found you after you got struck by lightning.”
“Is that what you think happened to me?” Wood wondered if that hadn’t been the reason why he had traveled from 1876 to 1998.
“You were next to this big old oak on the Nelson forty. Lightning ripped one of its branches right off.” His eyes widened at the memory.
“Would you take me to the tree?”
“You want to see it?”
When Wood nodded, he gestured for him to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
As they walked, Jeremy recounted in detail what had happened the afternoon of the storm. When they reached a large oak with a broken limb, he said, “There it is. Mom says it’s probably the oldest tree on the farm. Look at how fat the trunk is.”
Wood stared at the oak, trying to imagine what it had looked like one hundred and twenty-two years ago. Was this the tree from which he had hung?
Jeremy motioned for Wood to follow him. “If you come around this side you can see that it was hit by lightning one other time. It has a scar, see?”
Wood digested everything Jeremy had told him. Could this tree be the spot where his time travel had occurred? If it was, then it was possible that Jeremy’s theory that he had been struck by lightning was correct. After all, Wood could remember sitting on the horse with a noose around his neck just as a bolt of lightning flashed in the sky.
“Where was I the first time you saw me?” he asked, surveying his surroundings.
Jeremy dropped down into the tall grass and spread his arms and legs. “You were lying just like this, with that tree limb right above your head.”
Wood got down beside him, hoping to jar some memory that would answer his questions. Stretched out in the tall grass, he closed his eyes and willed his mind to recall what had happened.
“You know you’re lucky you’re not dead,” Jeremy told him, sounding very adult-like.
“Yes, I am,” Wood agreed soberly.
“Most people get killed when lightning hits ’em.”
Similar thoughts had crossed Wood’s mind. Why had he not died? It was true he had heard of instances where folks had survived being hit by the deadly bolt, but they were rare cases. So if it was lightning that had transported him forward in time, he had to question whether it would also take him back.
The more he thought about returning to 1876, the more grim the picture became. Not only would he have to worry about returning to the scene of the lynching where he could possibly die in the noose, he also had to fear that before he ever made it back in time, he could possibly be one of the not-so-lucky struck dead by lightning.
Wood racked his brain trying to think of any other means by which he could have time traveled. None came to mind. He had sat on the horse, seen the lightning bolt and then been whisked through time.
A horrible feeling of hopelessness swept over him. What were the chances that he would be struck by lightning twice? And even if he was, would it take him back in time or kill him?
When he had left Missouri all he had wanted was to find his sister. Now it appeared that was never going to happen. How was he ever going to rest not knowing what had happened to her?
The answer was he couldn’t. He would have to find a way to get back. Even if it cost him his life.
Chapter Six
“W
here’s my baby book?” Jeremy asked as he sat down for dinner that evening.
Hannah frowned. “Why do you want that?”
“Because I have to do a family tree for history and write a report about what it was like to live in Minnesota at the turn of the century. My teacher says a baby book is a good place to start. You have one for me, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure where it is,” Hannah fibbed, pulling a gallon of milk from the refrigerator. Like most mothers, she had kept a baby book, knowing that one day Jeremy might need to know the name of his paternal ancestors. Now that that day was here, though, she found it disconcerting.
“I can help you,” Gabby volunteered. “I have several old Davis family diaries dating back to the original homesteaders. What information we can’t find in my collection, we’ll go look for at the library.”
“You have a library in town?” Wood asked.
“Oh, yes. I worked there for almost forty years,” she replied proudly. “If you want to know about local history, it’s all there.”
“I think history is boring. Don’t you, Wood?” Jeremy asked.
Wood didn’t answer. “Let me get that for you, ma’am.” Wood took the plate of steaming corn on the cob from Gabby’s hands and carried it to the table. Then he held her chair as she sat down.
“Why thank you, Wood. How gentlemanly of you.” Gabby beamed.
Hannah rolled her eyes. Before Wood had a chance to help her, she pulled out a chair and sat down.
“How come you call Gabby and my mom ma’am?” Jeremy wanted to know, the subject of history quickly forgotten.
“Where I come from, men address women that way out of respect,” Wood answered.
“Is that why you hold the chair for them, too?”
“Yes.”
“Not all women appreciate being called ma’am,” Hannah said pointedly.
“She thinks it makes her sound old, but I think it’s rather sweet, Wood,” Gabby remarked, her face glowing. “A man with good manners is hard to find nowadays.”
Hannah had to admit that Wood Dumler had social graces she wouldn’t have expected for someone who arrived looking like a vagrant. It made her wonder if Gabby was right—he was simply a man down on his luck.
“Are you feeling better now that you’ve rested?” Gabby asked when Wood was seated across from her.
“I am.”
Gabby turned to Hannah and said, “Aren’t we lucky? Now that Barry’s not going to be here for a few days, Wood can take his place.”
“Why isn’t Barry going to be here?”
“He called just before you came in and said he was taking Caroline to the hospital.” For Wood’s benefit she added, “Caroline is Barry’s wife, and she’s expecting their first child.”
“But the baby isn’t due for another month!”
“That’s true, but her labor pains are five minutes apart. It looks like she’s going to have a preemie.”
Hannah felt as if someone had taken the wind out of her sails. She was counting on Barry for harvest. “That means I’ll have to do the beans without him.”
“What about Wood?” Gabby asked. “He’s a little inexperienced with the machinery, but I bet you’re a quick learner, aren’t you, Wood?”
“I’m here to assist you in any way I can,” he offered. “That is, if you want me to stay.”
“Of course she wants you to stay,” Gabby answered for her. “One woman can’t harvest 400 acres of beans.”
Hannah knew what Gabby said was true. Without Barry she had no choice. She looked up at Wood, who stared at her, waiting for an answer.
“He can stay,” Hannah stated evenly. “Only until Barry returns.”
“He’ll need coveralls,” Gabby pointed out. “I think Big Fred left a pair in that closet in the bunkhouse.”
“Forgive me for saying so, ma’am, but Big Fred wasn’t as big as you recall,” Wood interrupted. He stood and pulled the pant legs out of his boots.
The bottoms of the legs stopped short of his ankles. Wood looked like a little kid whose mother refused to buy him new britches until the old ones had holes in the knees.
“Well,” Gabby said, “I guess we need to take him to town, Hannah. He can’t work in clothes that don’t fit.”
Hannah agreed. “We’ll go tomorrow afternoon.”
“It’s not necessary. If you give me back my things, I reckon I can get by,” Wood told them.
“I did wash your clothes, Wood, but you’re going to need more than one set if you’re going to work in the fields,” Gabby assured him.
When they had finished eating, Gabby gave Wood his freshly laundered garments as well as Big Fred’s coveralls which he eagerly took to the bunkhouse. While he changed, Hannah pruned the rose bushes that grew alongside the house. At the sound of a screen door slamming, she glanced in the direction of the bunkhouse.
Wood was coming toward her, walking as if he had a wedgie. As she shaded her eyes from the setting sun, she realized he was walking funny because he could barely button the cotton shirt and the pants—well, she understood the reason for his scowl.
“What did she do to my clothes?”
“I’m sorry.”
He chuckled but it was not a humorous sound. “This is worse than those other clothes you gave me to wear....” He looked down at the shirt cuffs that stopped about an inch from his wrists.
He appeared so comical Hannah had to stifle a giggle. “You can pick out another pair of pants and a shirt at my expense.”
“You don’t have to pay for anything. I’ll work for whatever it is you give me,” he said irritably.
“But it was our mistake.”
“I told you. I don’t accept charity. I work for whatever I get,” he stated firmly.
She dusted off her hands and wiped them on her jeans. “Fair enough. We’ll go first thing in the morning. Let me put my things away, and I’ll show you where everything is on the farm.”
When she would have bent over to pick up her knee pad and her garden shears, Wood beat her to it. As he stooped, however, the sound of fabric tearing stopped him in midmotion. The crotch of his pants had come open at the seam.
Hannah’s eyes met his.
“It isn’t anything you haven’t already seen, is it?” he said with a lift of one brow, then went back inside the bunkhouse.
Again, he had successfully turned the tables on her. She was the one who blushed, not him.
When he reappeared, he wore Big Fred’s coveralls. Although they were old, she didn’t need to worry that he’d pop any buttons or split any seams.
Wood, however, didn’t look any less uncomfortable than before. “Now you look more like a farmer,” Hannah remarked, wanting to chase away the uneasiness on his face.
“I look like a man wearing another man’s clothes,” he retorted. “But I do believe I am ready to work.”
“Just about,” she told him. “Give me your arms.”
As he held them out straight, Hannah rolled back the cuffs until his forearms were bare. “There. That’s better. Now what you need is a hat. Wait here.” She went back into the house and found a brand new baseball cap one of the chemical companies had given her at a co-op meeting last spring. It was a bright yellow with the company logo emblazoned across the front in black.
“You’ll need this when the sun shines,” she told him.
Wood took it from her, eyed it curiously, then put it on, with the brim facing backward.
“Considering you’re recovering from heat stroke, it might be wise to wear it the old-fashioned way.”
He shrugged. “Jeremy wears his like this. I thought I might look more like one of the local people if I did.”
Hannah could have told him that it wouldn’t matter how he wore the hat. No one was going to mistake him for a local. When he had turned the cap around she said, “Okay, let’s get started.”
She led him around the long row of tall pines that separated their living quarters from the farm and took him through most of the farm.
As they stepped into the barn, several cats wandered over to greet them. “Here’s where most of the animals are.” For the first time all day Hannah thought Wood finally seemed at ease. “We have twelve stalls, but right now I only have six horses.” They walked through the building and out the opposite end into the pasture where the horses grazed.
Most of them were at the far end fenced area, grazing. One silvery gray Arabian, however, stood not more than fifteen feet from them. “Who’s this?” Wood asked, eyeing the horse with interest.
“His name is Bullet and I should warn you, he’s rather highly strung.”
Wood ignored her warning and approached the animal very slowly, his hand stretched out in front of him, palm down. At first the horse shied away, but Wood didn’t give up. He continued to talk to him under his breath, crooning patiently until to Hannah’s surprise, her skittish gelding allowed Wood to run his hand along his neck.
“He doesn’t normally let strangers get close.” Hannah couldn’t keep the wonder from her voice.
“He knows I’m not a threat.” His eyes pierced hers with the same message.
Wood spoke softly into the horse’s ear and Hannah could see that whatever he lacked in machinery knowledge he obviously made up for in animal handling skills. First it was Outlaw, now Bullet. Could it be that Wood was as trustworthy as Gabby wanted Hannah to believe he was?
When Bullet moved away, Wood asked, “You don’t have any work horses?”
She shook her head. “No one around here uses horses in the field. I’ve been thinking about getting a couple of draft horses, but they wouldn’t be for work, just to pull my wagons at the shows.”
Wood pushed the brim back on his hat and squinted. “What the heck is that?”
Hannah followed the direction of his gaze. “It’s a pig.”
“In with the horses?”
“What do you suggest I do with an eight hundred and fifty pound pig?” she asked dryly. “I won Wilbur at the county fair. He was just a little thing back then. I wouldn’t have kept him, but ever since Jeremy saw the movie Babe he won’t let me get rid of him.”
“He is big.”
Hannah nodded. “Jeremy made him a box but he broke out of it so we had to put him in here with the horses. He likes to rut around for bugs in the manure pile.”
“He’s going to start thinking he is a horse if you leave him out here,” Wood warned her.
“Come here, Wilbur,” Hannah called out to the pig, who snorted, then waddled over toward her. She slapped his backside and tickled the flesh behind his ears. “You’re a good pig, aren’t you, Wilbur?”
“He gets much bigger he won’t taste very good.”
“We couldn’t eat him!” Hannah exclaimed. “He’s Jeremy’s pet!”
He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “A pig for a pet?
“What’s wrong with that?” she demanded.
He simply shrugged, hiding a smile.
“What’s so amusing?” When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “Well?”
“You’re sentimental.”
“And you find that funny?” she asked, trying not to bristle.
“I find it charming.”
With one look from his dark brown eyes the atmosphere became charged with a sexual awareness. Her heart beat nervously as his eyes glittered with an emotion any woman would recognize. Desire. Not that it should have surprised her. Ever since he had first laid eyes on her there had been a flickering gleam of interest in them. And she would have had to have been blind not to notice the way his body had responded earlier today when she had rubbed liniment into his bruised muscles.
She was no stranger to sexual attraction, although it did seem to be a strange phenomenon. Why was it that she would be attracted to Wood Dumler, a man who didn’t drive, who came from who knows where and whose past included a beating by God only knows what kind of people?
Yet she was attracted to him. That’s why she was staring at his mouth and wondering what it would feel like to have those sun-parched lips on hers. Would that mustache tickle?
As if he could read her thoughts, he bent and brushed her lips with his. Surprisingly, they weren’t rough, but soft and warm, with only the slightest hint of prickliness where the sun had left its mark. She trembled at the sweet stirring of desire that erupted inside her.
When her lips parted ever so slightly, he pinned her against the fence, a hand on either side of her. Hannah discovered that his mustache didn’t tickle, but tantalized, tempting her to press her body closer to his and open her mouth to his tongue.
It had been a long time since any man had kissed her, and Hannah felt like a dieter being thrown a pound of chocolate fudge. Although kissing Wood should have been off limits, he tasted so good she couldn’t resist the temptation to enjoy every moment of the pleasure. Her lips couldn’t get enough of his and would never have left his had not Jeremy’s voice rang out.
“Mom?”
BOOK: Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)
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