The Nanny Solution (10 page)

“We should leave, children. Good day, ladies.” Mitchell touched the brim of his Stetson first to Rachel, then to Victoria. Then he took Mary's and Ralph's hands.

The doors to the house were once more pushed open and the same maid—Victoria really needed to learn the girl's name—stepped out. “Miss Rachel, Miss Victoria? This man is here for Mr. MacLeod.”

A young man stepped onto the terrace, his Stetson in his hand and an anxious look on his face. He focused on Mitchell.

Mitchell released his children's hands. “Jake, what is it?”

“The men you sent me to, Mitch. All of them. Roberts and the Miller brothers, they say they can't buy your heifers. There ain't a buyer in the county, Mitch. No one wants your stock.”

Chapter Thirteen

I
t felt like a punch in his gut. Mitch took a step toward Jake, whose own deep concern mirrored his. “They
can't
buy them, or they
won't
buy them?”

“Both, Mitch. Roberts said he couldn't, but one of the Miller brothers said he won't. He said he'll get new heifers someplace else. I asked him why, but he wouldn't say.”

Mitch tightened his mouth. He had a pretty good idea. This was his fault. He should have kept his mouth shut at the train depot yesterday when he mentioned to Walter Smith that he planned to sell some heifers. He knew it wouldn't have taken too long to figure out which of local ranchers wanted to buy them.

Frustration swelled in his gut. What was he supposed to do now? Fighting irritability, he took up Ralph's hand and the basket, and gathered the other children.

He glanced at Victoria. It was best he leave now, mostly to figure out his next step, but also to put some space and time between him and this house.

He needed to get away from Victoria, too. She'd already judged his children. He'd seen her disgusted look when she'd stared down at the baby. He had better leave. She was distracting him from figuring out how to counter her uncle's wily tricks.

Walter Smith would do anything to gain Mitch's mineral rights and the way to that end was forcing him to default on his mortgage payment.

Refusing to walk through the grand rooms with the expensive wallpaper and fussy furniture, Mitch stalked around the house, leading the children. Reaching the long, wide drive, he eased up on his rushing steps.

“Mitchell!”

He heard her call out but he would not turn. Her question and her disgust pricked his pride.

Victoria hurried up to stop him, racing around in front of him with concern etched into her face. “Are you all right?”

The baby cried a bit, and he automatically took the basket and rocked it gently. Then, after thinking a moment, he turned to Matthew. “Take your brothers and Mary to the wagon. I'll be right along.”

With those wide eyes and cautious expression, Matthew obeyed. He was such a great boy. Mitch knew he needed to spend more time with him, but with the list of chores growing each day, and now this setback, he wasn't sure when that would happen.

“Mitchell,” Victoria began again after the children were out of earshot. “This sounds serious. Is there anything I can do?”

He cocked his head. “Yeah, you can buy all my heifers.”

She recoiled, ever so slightly, for her fine manners and polite concern had been able to temper her shock at his biting remark.

“I—I'm sorry.” She looked away, blood rising into her cheeks. “Y-you know I can't do that.”

He pulled a face and relaxed slightly. “I was being sarcastic, Victoria. I know you can't buy my heifers.”

The flush deepened, spreading to her neck and contrasting brilliantly with the white lace of her high collar. Mitch's gut hurt. Why did he have to say that? Victoria was proud, an heiress fallen on hard times for a reason that was none of his business. Her mother had foisted her upon wealthier relatives. He didn't need, nor did he really want, to make her feel any more miserable. He knew the feeling well. It didn't need to be spread around.

All the more reason to get out of there. Mitch walked around her. As he took that first step, she caught his arm.

He looked down at her hand, then into her face. That moment in the train car when it had lurched forward suddenly returned to him, when he'd found himself falling on her. Her scent had been...what? Lavender like today? Automatically, he inhaled, only to be rewarded with another head full of fine, soft perfume.

“There must be something I can do, Mitchell. What about the children? Whatever this is, it will affect them, and you need help—”

He pulled back his arm. “I don't need any help, thank you.” He leaned toward her. “And what can you do, anyway? You have only ever fed Emily once. After that, you pawned her off on another woman.”

“I could help—”

“Victoria, listen to yourself.” He flicked his gaze up to the big, stately home behind her. The fine rhyolite facade was only just catching the late-morning sun, its curious tans and pinks glittering as the rough surface played with the oblique rays. It was a ridiculously opulent mansion. Too fine a home for him. “You can't help. We both know that. Honestly, do you even know where the kitchen is in this place? Could you lead me directly to it?”

She opened her mouth. Then shut it.

“Do you know how to start a fire in a cold stove, or how long bread takes to bake? Or how much water oatmeal needs?” he added. “All these things are part of the help I need. The other is to sell my heifers. You can't do either of them.”

Her stricken expression intensified. Though Mitch's tone was gentle, he knew his words stung. He hated them, but they needed to be said.

“We were talking about selling my heifers,” he continued. He noticed her slight frown. “Do you even know what a heifer is?”

She swallowed. And for a moment, he'd hoped that she would know that much, but no. He could read her expression. She didn't.

He shook his head, berating himself for his behavior. For a man who didn't want to hurt a lady, he was doing a pretty poor job of sticking to that promise. She may not be the silly socialite with irritating ideals that he'd thought her to be—no, she was gentle and kind—but that didn't mean she could help him. She cared, yes, but she knew nothing of the regular things that regular people did in the course of a day. If she did, he would have honestly considered her offer of help.

No.
He wouldn't allow her to make a fool of herself, and he didn't want her to sweep into his and his children's lives only to realize later that she couldn't handle it and then leave. It would hurt his children too much.

And you, too?

No.

Abruptly, he turned and stalked away, and this time, thankfully, Victoria let him go.

* * *

Victoria blinked back the wellspring of tears that threatened to burst forth from her eyes. All she could do was watch, uselessly, as Mitchell climbed aboard his wagon and flicked the reins with a bit too much harshness. As the horses responded, the children turned their heads. Mary lifted her small hand to wave a sad goodbye.

Mitchell was right. She
was
useless. She'd wanted to tell him she knew exactly where the kitchen was in this mansion, but it wasn't her Boston brownstone, with its layout as simple as it was elegant, with the garden level having the kitchen, the parlor level, the receiving room and library, and two more levels above. Victoria turned and viewed the expansive home in front of her. It was so wide and sprawling, the kitchen in this home could be anywhere in the back.

This wasn't fair. She'd only arrived last night, and refused her evening meal because of the silly, confusing emotions she'd felt when she'd learned that Mitchell could not have fathered Emily. She'd had no chance to learn the layout of this grand house.

But how hard could it be to figure it out? Mitchell had walked around to the tradesman's entrance, and it would be by the scullery, which obviously would lead to the kitchen. That way, the only thing workmen saw were a few drying dishes.

So somewhere down there lay the kitchen, but Victoria knew she would not be able to walk straight to it with confidence. The house had too many closed doors.

A man strode around from the back of the house, equally anxious to be gone. It was Jake. He tipped his hat to her as he passed, heading toward the horse tied up at the end corner of the fence. When it was clear he wasn't going to stop, she called to him. He turned.

“Do you work for Mitchell?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am. I'm his ranch hand.”

“Did he give you heifers to sell?”

“No, ma'am, he just wanted me to make the final arrangements for pickup and collection of the money. Mitch had already arranged the sale and would have done this all himself, but he needed to get some food, plus his young-uns wanted to return that box and see you.” He smiled suddenly. “I can see why.”

She flushed. He reddened, also. “Sorry, ma'am. What I meant to say was that you gave those kids the rest of your treats. Of course, they'd want to come by. They knew you would.”

“Jake, why did the sale of those heifers really fall through?”

“Well,” he began slowly, as if reluctant to speak. “I don't quite know the full reason. Two of the men said they couldn't buy them, but I figure that they're too scared.”

“Of what?”

Jake's gaze darted to the house, but when Victoria glanced over her shoulder, she saw nothing amiss. Not even a servant peeking out a window. “Ranchers around here owe the bank in Proud Bend. It ain't right, but they need to stay on the bank's good side.”

Oh, so that was why he glanced back at the house. Uncle Walter. She should have known, especially after Aunt Louise's blunt admission last night. She knew she'd married a cad. Was that why she tolerated Rachel's late nights? Because she felt guilty for giving the woman an unsavory father? Victoria blew out a heavy sigh. “There must be something that can be done for Mitchell.”

“I wish there was, ma'am. Mitch needs the money. And these heifers were older and have been bred. They're good stock, too. It's a shame, really. I'd best go catch up with him.” He tipped his hat and moved away toward his horse.

Victoria stood there, biting her lip and fighting frustration. Again, she was proving that she wasn't meant for this frontier, as they used to call Colorado. Before she left Boston, she'd read one of Ovando Hollister's books. He felt this state was still a frontier. Regardless, she couldn't possibly find her place here. Out here, no one wanted a socialite whose greatest skill was small talk.

“That's quite a pickle he's in.”

Victoria turned as Rachel walked up to her. “How much did you hear?” Victoria asked her cousin.

“Enough. And I know how it works in town. Father is a tough banker, as is his partner. I expect some of those mortgages are up for renewal. Those ranchers have the right to be nervous.”

“Uncle Walter should be ashamed of himself.”

“Yes, he should, but owning the only bank in Proud Bend does that to a person.” She shrugged. “He'll try getting his own way with you, too.”

“How so?”

“He's expecting you to marry Clyde.”

Victoria swallowed hard and Rachel smiled. “That was my reaction, too, when he said that to me.”

“He wanted you to marry Clyde?”

Rachel nodded. “For several years, when I was younger, until I told him a flat-out no. He was furious for a long time, rarely speaking to me, but he got over it. Then he learned you were coming.”

Victoria turned away, spying Mitchell's wagon far down the street by the general store.

There was a pause before Rachel added, “Do you want to help Mitch?”

“I do.” Victoria looked back at Rachel. “If I had the money, I would buy those heifers, and then sell them quietly to those men at the same price.”

“An interesting idea.” Rachel was smiling as she spoke.

“It's the logical thing to do. They can't buy the heifers from Mitchell, but they could buy them from someone else. If I had money, I'd buy them because I don't have a mortgage at your father's bank.”

“But you
do
owe him.”

The blood drained from Victoria's face.

The older woman laughed and reached out to squeeze her hands with her own calloused ones. Victoria looked down at them. Why did Rachel not care for them? Where had those hands been? Why, Victoria hadn't even touched reins or a bridle without gloves, let alone anything else that could harden her skin.

“Now, how about you and I go into the heifer business together?” Rachel asked. “I have the money, and I can give it to you. You buy the heifers from Jake, then sell them right away to those other ranchers. When the men give you the money, you return it to me.”

“Why don't you just do it?”

Rachel smiled. “And not allow you the opportunity to help?”

Victoria's mind churned. Was Rachel looking for a way to punish her father or did she want Victoria to share in the chance to help Mitchell?

“You have that kind of money?” Victoria asked. “And you'd go against your father?”

“Yes, I have the money, and let's just say I have gone against my father before. Allow me to worry about him.”

Victoria paled. Then hesitated. She'd already leaped into a situation she hadn't fully appreciated when she'd accepted Mitchell's offer of a job. She shouldn't be doing the same now, especially where money was concerned, and these heifers, whatever they were, sounded expensive.

But what would happen to Mitchell if she didn't do something?

Rachel leaned forward. “If you like, I'll make all the arrangements.”

“Why are you offering this?”

“Because there's a need.” Her smile faltering a bit, she led Victoria back around the house. “I'll send the errand boy to bring Jake back. We'll sort out the details over breakfast. Do you have any more questions?”

Victoria stalled her steps. “Yes, just one. What on earth is a heifer?”