Texas Cinderella (3 page)

Chapter Three

C
assie Lynn pushed open the door to Mrs. Flanagan's home, her mood considerably different from the cheery one she'd had when she'd left here just one short hour ago. So much had happened in such a short period of time.

Dapple sat just inside the door, tail swishing impatiently. Seeming to sense her mood, the normally imperious tortoiseshell cat stropped against Cassie Lynn's legs with a sympathetic purr.

She bent down and stroked the animal's back. “Thanks, Dapple. You can be really sweet sometimes.”

That was apparently too much for the feline. He gave Cassie Lynn a baleful look, then turned and stalked down the hall, the very picture of affronted dignity.

With a smile, Cassie Lynn headed for the kitchen. “I'm back,” she called out as she set her shopping basket on the kitchen table. “Sorry I took so long.”

Mrs. Flanagan wheeled her chair into the kitchen. “Rather than apologizing,” the widow said acerbically, “tell me what that father of yours wanted.”

Cassie Lynn should have realized her employer had known he was there. How much should she say? “He wanted to give me some news about Verne and Dinah.”

Mrs. Flanagan raised a brow. “They're expecting a new young'un, are they?”

“No, at least not that I know of.” She started putting away the items she'd purchased at the mercantile. “But they
are
moving out and planning to set up their own place.”

There was a moment of silence, but even with her back turned, Cassie Lynn could feel the keen stare the widow had focused on her.

“I've known Alvin Vickers most of his life,” Mrs. Flanagan finally said, “so I know he didn't come all the way into town just to deliver news like that. He wants you to move back to his place and take care of him, doesn't he?”

Cassie Lynn reluctantly glanced back over her shoulder and nodded.

“You didn't agree to go, did you?”

“Not exactly.”

The widow's eyes narrowed. “What does
not exactly
mean?”

Rather than give a direct answer, she hedged. “He was very insistent.”

“You mean he tried to roll right over your objections!”

Cassie Lynn gave her a tight smile that was part grimace. “I appreciate you're concerned about me, but—”

“Ha! Who said I was concerned about you?”

When she'd first come to work here, Cassie Lynn had been taken aback by Mrs. Flanagan's vinegary tongue, but it hadn't taken her long to see behind the woman's facade to the soft heart beneath. So she didn't take offense at the words.

The woman settled back in her chair with a determined frown. “I've got a stake in that bakery business you're trying to start, remember? And you can't run it from that back-of-beyond farm.”

Cassie Lynn felt compelled to defend her father. “He's my pa. I owe him—”

Mrs. Flanagan actually wagged a finger at her. “Cassie Lynn Vickers, you're twenty-two years old, a grown woman by anyone's reckoning. You need to grow some backbone and make that father of yours listen to you.”

Cassie Lynn grimaced, then turned away. Mrs. Flanagan might not say that if she knew the whole story. “At any rate, I told him I wasn't leaving here as long as you needed my help.”

“Well, that's something.” The widow gave a decisive snort. “And I have a feeling that I may need your help for much longer than we first expected.”

Startled, Cassie Lynn shot her a quick glance. Then, making up her mind, she decided to share her plan. “I do have an idea about how I might get around this.”

Mrs. Flanagan straightened. “Well, bless my soul, you do have some gumption, after all.” She leaned back with a satisfied nod. “Let's hear it.”

Cassie Lynn took a deep breath. “It appears the only excuse my father will accept is if I was spoken for. So that's what I intend to do—find a man to marry.”

The widow's brow went up. “Just like that, you're going to go out and find yourself a suitor?”

“I didn't say it would be easy.” Cassie Lynn tried to keep the defensiveness from her tone. “And it's not as if I expect anything romantic.” She didn't have any notions of finding a fairy-tale prince who would look at her, fall instantly in love and whisk her away.

After all, she'd already contemplated a businesslike marriage with Mr. Chandler when she'd first come to town. So she'd already come to terms with that kind of arrangement.

But Mrs. Flanagan was frowning at her. “You're much too young to be giving up on love. Don't you want at least a touch of romance in your life?”

“Romance is no guarantee of happiness. And even if that was something I wanted, in this case there's no time for such schoolgirl notions. So a more practical approach is called for.”

“I see.” Mrs. Flanagan crossed her arms, clearly not in agreement with Cassie Lynn's argument, but willing to move on. “Is there a particular bachelor you've set your sights on?”

“I've been pondering on that and I have a couple of ideas. The main thing, though, is I've decided what requirements the gents need to meet.” She'd given that a lot of thought on her walk home.

“And those are?”

“Well, for one, since I want to continue pursuing my goal of opening a bakery, the candidate will need to be okay with having a wife who does more than just keep his house. And it would also require that he live here in town so I can be close to my customers, for delivery purposes.”

“Surely you also want to consider his character.”

“Of course. He should be honest, kind and God-fearing.” She didn't expect affection—after all, this would be a businesslike arrangement—but she did hope for mutual respect.

“And his appearance?”

Cassie Lynn shrugged. “That's of less importance. Though naturally, I wouldn't mind if he's pleasant to look at.” Like Mr. Walker, for example.

She shook off that thought and returned to the discussion at hand. “But none of that matters unless I can find someone who's also open to my proposal.”

“And you've thought of someone who meets this list of qualifications?”

“Two. But I don't really know the men here very well, so I was hoping that perhaps you could give me some suggestions.”

“Humph! I've always thought of matchmakers as busybodies, so I never aspired to become one.”

“Oh, I don't want a matchmaker—I intend to make up my own mind on who I marry. I'd just like to have the benefit of advice from someone who knows the townsfolk better than I do. And who has experienced what a marriage involves.”

“Well, then, much as I'm not sure I approve of this plan of yours, I don't suppose I can just let you go through it without guidance of some sort.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Flanagan. I can't tell you what a relief that is.”

“Now don't go getting all emotional on me. I said I'd help and I will. Tell me who these two gents are that you're considering.”

“The first name that occurred to me was Morris Hilburn.”

“The butcher?”

Cassie Lynn nodded. “From what I can tell, he meets most of my criteria. Of course, I won't know how he feels about having a wife who runs a bakery until I talk to him.”

“Morris Hilburn is a God-fearing man with a good heart, all right. But he is not the smartest of men and he's not much of a talker.”

“Book learning and good conversation are not requirements.”

“Think about that before you rule them out. Do you
really
want to spend the rest of your life with a man whose idea of conversation is single syllable responses?”

Cassie Lynn paused. Then she remembered the fate her father had in mind for her. “There are worse things.” She moved on before her employer could comment. “The other gentleman I thought of was Mr. Gilbert Drummond.”

“The undertaker? Well, I suppose he might be someone to look at. Then again, he strikes me as being a bit finicky.”

“There are worse qualities one could find in a man. Besides, a woman in my position doesn't have the luxury of being choosy.” More's the pity. “But I'm open to other suggestions if you have any.”

“I'll need to ponder on this awhile.”

“Unfortunately, my time is short.” She hesitated a heartbeat, then spoke up again, keeping her voice oh-so-casual. “There's actually a third candidate I'm considering.”

“And who might that be?”

“I met a newcomer to town while I was at the livery. He just arrived on today's train.”

“A newcomer? And you're just now telling me about this? You know good and well part of the reason I hired you is to have someone to bring me the latest bits of news.”

Cassie Lynn laughed. “And here I thought it was for my cooking.”

“Don't be impertinent. I want to hear everything. How did you meet him? Is he a young man or more mature? Is he handsome? Is he traveling alone.” She waved impatiently. “Come on, girl, answer me.”

She decided to respond to the last question first. “He's traveling with two children, a niece and nephew. I met the little boy first. Noah is about seven and such an endearing child—intelligent, curious, outgoing. The little girl, Pru, seems shy and quiet.” Cassie Lynn searched her memory for all the little descriptive details, relating these tidbits as vividly as she could, knowing Mrs. Flanagan loved getting these glimpses of the outside world she was missing.

After a few minutes of that, however, her employer interrupted her. “Enough of the kids,” she said with a grumpy frown. “Tell me about the uncle.”

Cassie Lynn paused a moment to pull up Mr. Walker's image in her mind. “He has hair the color of coffee with a dash of cream stirred in, and his eyes are a piercing green.” A glorious shamrock-green that she could still picture quite vividly. “He's lean but muscular, if you know what I mean, like he's used to doing hard work.”

“And his age?”

“I didn't ask.”

Mrs. Flanagan made a disapproving noise. “Don't be coy with me, Cassie Lynn. Take a guess.”

She hid her grin. “I suppose I'd put him around twenty-four or twenty-five.” Though there was something about the look in his eyes that spoke of experience beyond his years.

“How did you come to meet him?”

Cassie Lynn explained the circumstances as she crossed the room to retrieve an apron that hung on a peg near the stove.

“I can see the man has obviously impressed you.”

Cassie Lynn stopped midstep and glanced over at her employer.

“Don't look so surprised, girl, I'm no simpleton. If he hadn't caught your eye, you wouldn't have put him on your list.” Then she leaned back. “So what was it about him that made you decide after only ten minutes in his company that he might be the husband you're looking for?”

“I only said he might be worth considering.” Then, under Mrs. Flanagan's steady gaze, she shrugged. “I suppose it was the fact that he had two young children in his care—it made me think he might be a man in need of a woman's help. And it was also the way he interacted with them. He obviously cares about them.”

It made her think about her relationship with her own father. He'd never been very affectionate, but when she'd been Pru's age she felt he'd had a little more time for her.

“I agree with you there,” Mrs. Flanagan said. “A single man in charge of two young'uns sounds like a gentleman in need of a wife if there ever was one.” Dapple had wandered into the kitchen and, with a graceful motion, leaped into Mrs. Flanagan's lap. The woman stroked the cat's back, her eyes remaining fixed on Cassie Lynn. “So tell me about these newcomers. Who'd they come here to visit?”

“According to Noah, they don't know anyone in Turnabout.”

“Humph. That's strange. Not many folks come to Turnabout unless they have some purpose.”

“I'm sure they
have
a purpose, it's just not to visit someone they know.” Cassie Lynn hadn't given the reason for their visit much thought until now. She hoped that, whatever it was that had brought them to Turnabout, it would keep them here for a while. Mr. Walker
had
taken a job, after all.

“If I am to advise you, then I think it's important that I meet this young man and his charges.”

Cassie Lynn nodded in agreement, pleased that Mrs. Flanagan had given her the opening she wanted. “We could invite them to have supper with us tomorrow evening. Sort of as a neighborly gesture, welcoming them to town.”

“Excellent idea.” She stroked Dapple's head absently “In the meantime I'll think on what other men might also meet your requirements.”

Cassie Lynn smiled as she pulled the cast-iron pot from its hook above the stove. Having the Walkers over for supper would do more than give her an opportunity to get to know them better.

It had surprised her that Mrs. Flanagan never had anyone, other than Dr. Pratt or Reverend Harper, drop in to see her since her accident. The woman apparently didn't have any close friends.

Cassie Lynn had been trying to come up with a way to remedy that. But how did she invite people to come by and visit a flinty widow who'd never made any effort to make friends with her neighbors?

And now she would be able to do just that. Having Mrs. Flanagan help her find a suitor wouldn't just benefit her, it would give the widow purpose, as well.

And wouldn't it be nice if Mr. Walker turned out to be
the one
.

From a purely expedient perspective, of course.

Chapter Four

C
assie Lynn exited the Blue Bottle Sweet Shop the next afternoon with a spring in her step. Eve Dawson had sold all four fruit tarts she'd delivered to her this morning, and was very happy with her customers' reactions to them. It had been the same story with Daisy Fulton over at the restaurant. Both of them had placed additional orders for her goods.

If the worst happened and Cassie Lynn ended up back at her father's farm—though she still wasn't ready to surrender to that possibility—she would have the pleasure of knowing that folks enjoyed her baked goods well enough to pay for them.

Of course, if she was being entirely honest with herself, part of the reason for the lightness of her mood was her current destination, the livery. She was looking forward to visiting Scarlett and Duchess again, of course. But she was hoping she might also run into Mr. Walker. He was working there, after all.

When Cassie Lynn arrived at the corral she saw Scarlett and Mr. Walker's horse, River, penned there. But Duchess wasn't anywhere in sight.

Scarlett trotted over to the fence, nickered and tossed her head.

“And hello to you, too,” Cassie Lynn said as she reached into her basket for one of the carrots she'd brought for just that purpose.

To her delight, River wasn't far behind. “Well hello, boy. Ready to be friends.” She held out a carrot and the horse took it as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“So where is our friend Duchess?” she asked as she rubbed the horse's neck. “Did she get the chance to leave the livery today?”

“She did indeed.”

At the sound of the male voice, Cassie Lynn turned to see Mr. Walker leading the mare into the corral. Her pulse immediately kicked up a notch.

“She and the buckboard were rented out to a Mr. Hendricks to transport a load of lumber.” Mr. Walker gave Duchess a final pat before removing the lead and closing the gate to the corral.

Cassie Lynn smiled. “I understand you're working here now?”

“I am. A few hours a day, just to pay for River's upkeep.” He moved around to where the trough was situated, checked the water level and began working the pump. “So, do you stop by here every day?”

She nodded. “Most days, anyway. It's my favorite part of the day.” She held out another carrot as Duchess pranced up to her. “These two ladies and I are good friends.” Then she reached out to touch River's muzzle. “And I hope this handsome gent and I soon will be.”

“River likes you.” Mr. Walker sounded surprised. “He's pretty discerning when it comes to who he lets get close to him.”

“I believe the carrot might have had something to do with it,” she said drily. Then she turned to face him fully. “Actually, though, I was hoping I'd run into you.”

He raised a brow. “Were you now?”

Her cheeks warmed as she realized how that had sounded, and she rushed to clarify. “I mean, I told Mrs. Flanagan, the lady I work for, about meeting you and the children. And she thought it might be good to have the three of you over for supper, just as a neighborly gesture, you being new to town and all. Anyway, she asked me to invite you to join us this evening. If you're free and you'd like to come, that is.” Cassie Lynn mentally winced. She wasn't normally one to babble, but felt that's exactly what she'd just been doing.

He kept working the pump. “That's mighty nice of you ladies, but please don't feel obliged.”

Was he going to refuse? “We're not inviting you because we feel obliged. It's something we want to do.”

“Still, I wouldn't want to take advantage.”

Why did he seem so reluctant? “Actually, you'd be doing me a favor,” she said diffidently.

He looked up from his task. “How's that?”

“Mrs. Flanagan is currently confined to a wheelchair. That's why I'm working for her, to take care of her and do the things around the house that she can't do for herself from that chair.”

He finished pumping the water and leaned against the fence, facing her. “Sorry to hear that, but I don't understand where the favor comes in.”

“With her being confined to the house the way she is, I think it would really cheer her up to have some new folks to talk to.”

He studied her face for a long moment, as if mentally weighing some issue. Had she pressed too hard? Did he really
not
want to be their guest for some reason?

She was trying to steel herself to accept his refusal when he finally spoke up. “All right then. The kids and I would be pleased to accept your generous invitation. What time should we be there?”

Relieved, she gave him a bright smile. “We normally eat supper around six o'clock.”

His lips twisted in a wry grin. “And I guess I should also ask just where
there
is.”

Cassie Lynn gave him the directions, then looked around. “Where are Noah and Pru?”

His expression immediately closed off. “They're back at the hotel.” He straightened and gave a short nod. “If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” And with that he turned and headed toward the stable.

Cassie Lynn stared at his back for a moment, wondering at his abrupt change in mood. Had he been put off by her question?

She turned and slowly headed back to Mrs. Flanagan's, replaying the conversation in her mind. He said he'd left the children at the hotel. Were they alone? She could see why that would embarrass him. But he was new to town, so it was understandable that he hadn't found a caretaker for them. If she wasn't already committed to Mrs. Flanagan, she would have been happy to take that position herself.

But she would make a point of giving him some recommendations this evening.

Not only was she happy to help, but she wanted to do anything she could to make it easy for him to settle in here.

If that's what he wanted to do.

* * *

Riley went about his tasks at the livery automatically. It was the kind of work he knew well and was comfortable with. He didn't mind working with and around horses, even when he was asked to muck out the stalls. It was good, honest labor.

But what he really itched to do right now was saddle up River and take him out for a long run. Riding across wide-open spaces was something he craved, the way a hawk craved skimming the air currents. It made him feel free and alive. It also cleared his mind and helped him see things more clearly.

And the ability to think clearly was something he definitely needed right now.

He wasn't sure why he'd just accepted Miss Vickers's invitation. Ever since he'd taken the kids from their home in Wyoming and set out on this never-ending journey, he'd made it a practice to keep the three of them to themselves as much as possible. All things considered, it was best if they not draw any attention to themselves. It also made it easier to slip away when the time came to move on.

And it always came.

He'd had every intention of following that same course of action here by politely refusing her invitation.

But somehow, when he'd opened his mouth,
yes
came out instead of
no
. He still wasn't certain how that had happened. Maybe it was because he was getting travel-weary, or that the constant worry over whether Guy would catch up with them was wearing on him.

Because it certainly couldn't have anything to do with Miss Vickers herself. After all, in other towns, there'd been other ladies, some equally as pretty, some equally as interesting, who'd tried to claim his attention, and he'd never faltered from his course.

Then again, none had been pretty and interesting in quite the same way as Miss Vickers. A way that tugged at something inside him.

Riley gave his head a mental shake, pushing aside that totally irrational thought. It was more likely that he'd slipped up because he was just tired.

Her question about the kids had brought him up short, though. Brought him back to his senses. It was probably innocent, but he'd been put in tough spots by nosy, well-meaning folks before, folks who wanted explanations about where they'd come from, where they were going, what had happened to the kids' parents. Trust had never come easy to Riley and nothing that had happened the last couple of years had changed that.

He toyed a moment with the idea of finding a plausible excuse to cancel on her. Then he discarded it. Doing that would call as much if not more attention to themselves than if he just followed through. Besides, reneging on a promise, even one as minor as this, didn't sit well with him.

It was just one meal, after all. And once he'd fulfilled his obligation to attend, he could insert some distance, put up some walls. Which shouldn't be difficult since he and the kids weren't going to be here more than a few days anyway.

Grabbing a pitchfork, Riley headed for the hay stall, but before he could get to work, he heard someone step inside the livery from the street.

A new customer? Riley quickly looked around for Mr. Humphries, but when he didn't spot the owner, moved forward himself. “Hello. Is there something I can do for you?”

The man gave him an easy smile. “Actually, I heard Fred had hired someone new and thought I'd come around and introduce myself. I'm Ward Gleason, the sheriff around these parts.”

Riley hoped his expression didn't give anything away. “Good to meet you, Sheriff.” He pulled off his work gloves and extended his hand. “I'm Riley Walker.”

“Mr. Walker.” The lawman shook his hand and gave a short nod. Then he released it and eyed Riley with a casual glance that didn't fool him one bit. “Mind if I ask what brings you to our little town?”

He's only doing his job
, Riley told himself. Surely there wasn't anything more to it than that. “Not at all. I've got my niece and nephew with me and we're making our way to California. But since we're not in a hurry and they
are
kids, I'm making frequent stops along the way to give them a chance to get out and about and see other parts of the country.” That was true, as far as it went.

“Any particular reason you chose to stop
here
?”

Riley shrugged, keeping his demeanor open and casual. “I make it a point of never traveling more than a few days at a time. My niece was getting restless and this just happened to be a good stopping off point.”

“Just the luck of the draw, is that it?”

“I guess you could say that.” How much longer would this thinly disguised interrogation last?

But the lawman didn't seem to be in a hurry to take his leave. He crossed his arms and leaned against a support post. “So this isn't a permanent stop for you?”

“Nope.” Riley placed his hands on top of the pitchfork handle and leaned his weight against it, trying to emulate the sheriff's relaxed pose. “Don't plan to be here more than a few days.” Maybe shorter if the sheriff took too keen an interest in them.

“And where are your niece and nephew right now?”

Keep it casual.
“They're resting at your town's fine hotel.”

“Hi there, Sheriff.” Mr. Humphries's hail turned both men's heads toward the side office. “You looking to rent a buggy?”

Riley tried not to let his relief at the interruption show.

The sheriff straightened. “Hello, Fred. No, I'm just getting acquainted with Mr. Walker here.”

Fred Humphries gave Riley a smile. “Well, he's a good worker, at least so far. And he seems to know his way around horses, too.”

Uncomfortable with standing there while he was being talked about, Riley cleared his throat. “I think that's my cue to get back to work.” He nodded to both men and headed toward the hay stall once more.

Riley jabbed the pitchfork into the hay with a little more force than was necessary. Did every newcomer to town come under such scrutiny or was there something about him and the kids that had brought them to Sheriff Gleason's notice?

Now that he
had
come to the sheriff's notice, though, he'd need to be more careful than ever. Not that he'd done anything illegal, but getting certain matters untangled if they came to light could prove tricky.

It seemed the sooner he and the kids left Turnabout, the better.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Riley exited the hotel with Noah and Pru, feeling unsettled. For one thing, he hadn't had the chance to saddle up River and go for a ride as he'd hoped. Mr. Humphries had asked for his help repairing one of the stall gates and he'd felt obliged to agree. By the time that was done he'd had to get back to the hotel and check on the kids. Riley didn't like to leave them alone for more than a couple hours at a time. But they'd be boarding the train again in a few days, and he had hoped to get a lot of riding in while they were here.

The other reason for his unsettled mood was that he found himself wondering for the hundredth time why he was going through with this. He'd let down his guard when Miss Vickers looked at him with such entreaty in her gaze, thinking that one meal with her and her employer couldn't hurt anything.

But it was better to remember that he couldn't afford to have someone look too deeply into their situation, than to keep pondering over the way he felt when he was with her.

It was probably just as well that this was only a temporary stop along their unending journey.

Noah all but skipped along the sidewalk, seeming hardly able to contain his excitement. “I like Miss Vickers. She's really nice.”

Pru cut her uncle a quizzical look. “Uncle Riley must think so, too, if he's letting us go to her house.”

Riley mentally winced that his distrust of everyone they met was rubbing off on the kids. “It's only for supper,” he said, feeling strangely defensive. “Besides, she helped Noah at the livery yesterday, so it would have been impolite to turn down her invitation.”

“It doesn't matter why we're going, Pru,” Noah said. “This is gonna be a whole lot better than eating in our room or in the hotel restaurant.”