Bertie (Pendleton Petticoats Book 6)

by Shanna Hatfield

  Without saying a word, Bertie walked over to where aprons hung on a peg and lifted one, sliding it over her head and tying a bow in back. Aundy glanced away from the stove and smiled.

  “We didn’t intend to wake you. Garrett worried that he probably had.” Aundy pointed toward a mug on the counter. “The coffee’s hot if you’d like a cup or there’s hot water for tea. If you’d rather, there’s fresh milk or cold water.”

  “I think I’d like a glass of milk and please don’t worry about waking me. I should have been up and ready to get to work. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

  Aundy smiled and expertly flipped several pieces of bacon. “That’s what Garrett keeps telling me. I’ll keep you plenty busy, have no doubt about that. After breakfast, I thought perhaps we should sit down and decide what you’re comfortable doing and maybe map out our day.”

  “I like that plan,” Bertie said, spying eggs in a bowl next to a skillet Aundy had moved to a hot spot on the stove. “Scrambled or fried?” she asked and lifted an egg.

  Surprised the girl jumped right in to help, Aundy grinned. “Scrambled, please.”

  The two women worked together to make breakfast and had it on the table when Garrett came in carrying a basket of eggs. He plucked a feather from his shoulder and brushed at a rip in his shirtsleeve. “I swear, honey, if you don’t make dumplings out of that stupid rooster, I’m gonna wring his neck sooner rather than later.”

  Aundy winked at Bertie before turning to her husband. “Did Napoleon sneak up on you again?”

  “How could you tell?” Garrett asked with a teasing grin. He set down the egg basket and washed his hands. “Evil little beast almost got me, too. I feel fortunate to only have a tear in my sleeve instead of my hide.”

  “You know you have to keep an eye on him or he’ll try something.” Aundy set the bacon on the table and planted a quick kiss on Garrett’s mouth in passing. He started to wrap his arms around her, noticed their new hired help watching, and instead kissed Aundy’s cheek.

  “What I know is that I’m about fed up with that obnoxious little rooster. If he didn’t do his job so well, he’d long ago have met his demise.” Garrett poured himself a cup of coffee and set it on the table. At Bertie’s widened gaze, he smiled at her reassuringly. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re armed with weaponry before we turn you loose in the chicken coop.”

  Aundy laughed and leaned near Bertie. “He’s teasing. Mostly.”

  Breakfast conversation centered on what Garrett planned to do that day. He asked Aundy to consider resting since she hadn’t done as much of it as he thought she should. He also encouraged Bertie to explore around the farm and get to know her surroundings. “If you need anything, find me or Dent, or one of the boys.”

  Bertie smiled, knowing “the boys” were the hired hands, ranging in age from twenty-two to thirty-three. Aundy had imparted that information as they prepared breakfast. With time, she hoped she could keep all their names straight. Dent, she knew, as well as Hank, George, and Lem from church. The others she’d seen around town at various events. She thought their names were Bill, Glen, and Fred.

  Garrett mentioned a new hired hand starting later that morning, but he hadn’t stated a name. Bertie was glad she wouldn’t have to cook for all the men. The realization of all she would need to do to help Aundy left her overwhelmed without the added burden of preparing meals for eight or so men.

  Once they finished eating, Garrett insisted Aundy stay seated at the table while he and Bertie cleared the dishes. Surprised he stayed in the house to help, Bertie washed while Garrett dried. She assumed his presence was the only thing keeping Aundy from jumping up to work.

  “You ladies enjoy your morning. I’ll see you for lunch.” Garrett kissed Aundy’s cheek and picked up his hat. Before he stepped outside and closed the door, he mouthed “good luck” to Bertie.

  Aundy stood and retrieved a tablet of paper and a pencil from a drawer then regained her seat at the table. “Sit down with me Bertie and let’s make a list of what your duties will be, so we both know. I’m not very good at delegating my chores to others, so this might be a learning experience for us both.”

  Bertie’s eyes held understanding when she looked at Aundy. It wasn’t difficult to figure out the woman was incredibly independent and used to doing things for herself. “Let’s figure it out and get to it. I don’t know what Garrett expects, but I like to stay busy.”

  A few hours later, Bertie realized she’d never have to worry about being bored at Nash’s Folly.

  While Aundy dusted the house, polished the mirrors, and ran a sweeper over the floors, Bertie ironed a pile of clothes. By the time she was half-finished, her hair hung in damp coils along her neck and around her face. She’d rolled the sleeves of her blouse up past her elbows and wished she could dunk her head into the ice section of the big refrigerator.

  A knock at the back door startled her. She set down the hot iron with a loud thump. When Aundy failed to rush into the room to answer the door, Bertie wiped her damp palms on her apron and pushed open the screen door.

  Riley Walsh appeared just as surprised to see her as she was to find him on the back step. “Mr. Walsh. What can I do for you?”

  “I, um… Garrett said to…” Riley stammered then seemed to gather his thoughts. “I’m starting work for Garrett today. He said to stop by the house mid-morning.”

  “He mentioned something about being down at the machinery shed until lunch. I’m sure you can find him there. If not, Dent will know where to locate him. I saw him walk into the barn not too long ago.” Bertie felt a trickle of perspiration meandering down the side of her face and fought the urge to brush it away lest she call attention to the fact she was sweating like a farm hand.

  “Much obliged,” Riley said, taking a step back. One side of his mouth quirked upward in amusement as he studied Bertie. “Don’t you work in town, at the telephone office?”

  “As of today, I’m Aundy’s left hand for the summer, since she can’t use hers. I have a feeling it will take both of my hands and quite possibly my elbows, feet, and each one of my toes to keep up with her.”

  A full smile lit Riley’s face at her statement. Bertie blew a wayward curl away from her face and offered him a teasing grin. “As for you, good luck keeping up with Garrett.”

  Riley settled his hat on his head, touched his fingers to the brim, and stepped off the enclosed back porch. The sound of his chuckle carried to her as she closed the door.

  The man was downright breathtaking when he smiled. A smile sure looked better on him than the brooding, strained appearance he most often wore. Not that she’d studied his face at any length, or thought about him every day since he drove her into town.

  Why, she’d hardly given him a second glance or consideration. Unless daydreaming about his dark, wavy hair, bright blue eyes, and kissable mouth counted for anything. She refused to admit, even to herself, how many times she’d wondered what his stubbly cheek would feel like pressed to hers or if his hands could span the width of her waist.

  Shaking her head to dislodge her thoughts, Bertie returned to ironing, hoping she wouldn’t suffocate from the heat in the kitchen before lunchtime rolled around.

  Chapter Six

  “Remember to look him in the eye and you’ll be fine,” Aundy cautioned Bertie as she handed her the egg basket.

  The past two mornings Bertie held the basket while Aundy had gathered the eggs, showing her how to feed the chickens and explaining everything she needed to know about the process. From what she understood, the most important detail was never to lose sight of the arrogant little rooster named Napoleon.

  Aundy kept one eye on him the entire time they were in the chicken coop, even as she gathered eggs with her right hand and placed them in the basket Bertie held.

  According to Garrett, the rooster had terrorized every female who’d ever dared set foot inside the pen. Aundy had warned him not to frighten Bertie. She needn’t have bother
ed because Bertie was already petrified of the rooster.

  The realization of how ridiculous it was to let one little bird have that much control bothered her. Resolved to conquering her fear of Napoleon, she insisted on gathering the eggs unassisted that morning.

  Aundy offered her an encouraging pat on the back then opened the kitchen’s screen door. “I’m going out to the barn to see Ella and Bell. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

  “I will,” Bertie said, waiting until the screen door slapped shut before releasing a long breath. “It’s just a chicken. It’s just a chicken,” she chanted as she dug into the cupboard for the lid to Aundy’s biggest cooking pot and fished a soup ladle out of a drawer. Armed with her makeshift weaponry, she looped the egg basket over her arm and headed outside.

  Briskly marching over to the chicken pen, she shuffled the items in her hands, picked up the feed bucket, opened the door, and stepped inside.

  The sound of feed hitting the ground drew the chickens out of the coop. They rushed into the pen, clucking as they greedily pecked at their breakfast. Bertie didn’t see Napoleon among them and warily entered the coop. With no chickens in sight, she hurriedly gathered the eggs into the basket still looped over her arm and rushed out of the coop.

  Halfway to the door of the pen, she heard a noise behind her. Afraid of what she’d see, she forced herself to turn around. Napoleon charged her direction, feathers puffed out and an ominous gleam in his beady eyes.

  “My stars!” she gasped. Terrified of what he would do, Bertie ran toward the door to the pen. Unexpectedly, her skirts tangled around her legs and tripped her. Twisting as she fell, she landed on her backside while eggs splattered her clothes.

  In a moment of desperation, she lifted the arm not weighed down with the egg basket and covered her head with the lid. A loud thump echoed off her improvised shield. Slowly lowering it, she gaped at Napoleon, sprawled at her feet and knocked senseless.

  A muffled sound drew her gaze to where Riley Walsh stood in the open door to the pen, trying his best not to laugh.

  He stepped inside and pulled her upright then half-carried her outside the enclosure.

  Dazed by his masculine presence, he left her every bit as discombobulated as the attack by the chicken. The touch of his hand on her arm caused tingles to race through her entire body.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked curbing his desire to rub his fingers along her smooth cheek. Somewhat reluctantly, he removed his hand from her arm and shut the door to the pen before any of the chickens escaped or Napoleon awakened and launched a second attack.

  “I don’t believe so.” Bertie glanced down. Chicken feathers coated the bodice and skirt of her dress, clinging to the smashed eggs dripping down her front.

  At Riley’s urging, she relinquished her weaponry and leaned against a nearby tree until her heartbeat settled back into a normal pace.

  Unable to hold back any longer, he burst into laughter. The soup ladle and lid Bertie had used to defend herself against Aundy’s irritable rooster greatly amused him. The more he looked at the girl with feathers stuck in her hair and egg smeared on her dress, the more he snickered.

  He hadn’t laughed like that in years and it felt so good to do so once again. To have a reason to laugh.

  Something in him broke free and he guffawed so hard, he had to bend over to catch his breath as he wiped the moisture from his eyes.

  When he finally glanced over at Bertie, irate sparks shot from her blue eyes. She looked as angry as he’d ever seen a female.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Hawkins,” Riley wheezed between chuckles. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but that was about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m so glad I could provide a humorous start to your day, Mr. Walsh.” Bertie’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Before Riley knew her intent, she grabbed one of the unbroken eggs from the basket she still held and tossed it at him. Eggshell and yolk exploded against his chest.

  “Hey! There’s no call for that. I was just…” Another egg missile caught him on the chin, splattering yolk up his nose. He snapped his mouth shut and took a menacing step toward Bertie.

  She grabbed another egg and threw it at him, hitting his ear as she ran past him to the house.

  He started to follow her but thought better of it. Instead, he bent down to pick up the lid and ladle he’d dropped.

  Aundy appeared at his side, eyes bright with humor, and motioned for him to follow her to the barn.

  She worked the handle of the pump while he washed off his face and neck then wiped the sticky egg remnants from his shirt.

  “How much did you see?” Riley asked as he accepted the towel she handed him and dried his face.

  “I was on my way back to the house when I heard the thump of Napoleon hitting the pan lid.” Aundy’s mirth spilled over and she started to giggle, setting Riley off all over again. When Garrett approached them a few minutes later, they both leaned against the side of the barn, trying to curtail their hilarity at Bertie’s expense.

  Aundy relayed the story to Garrett and he grinned. “I wish I’d seen that and her tossing eggs at you, Riley. It seems Bertie isn’t quite as mild-tempered as she might appear.”

  “There’s definitely a temper under all that pretty, curly hair,” Riley said. At the curious look Aundy and Garrett gave him, he wished he’d kept his thoughts to himself. He straightened and cleared his throat. “Guess I’ll get to work.”

  Riley hurried away from the couple, still smiling.

  Hours later, the mere thought of the look on Bertie’s face as she raised the lid to ward off Aundy’s little rooster sent him into another round of chuckles.

  He hadn’t meant to hurt Bertie’s feelings or insult her, though. There wasn’t anything in the world that would make him intentionally hurt her. Despite her outward beauty, he could sense something about Bertie, something inside her, was fragile and broken. Intimately familiar with carrying on day after day burdened down by unspoken pain, he didn’t aim to add to her distress.

  Remorseful, yet still amused, he decided it was probably best to stay as far away from her as possible.

  He didn’t know what it was about the girl, but he felt drawn to her in ways that defied logic or sense. His attraction to her was precisely the reason he needed to leave her alone.

  Nevertheless, it did seem odd the first female to catch his eye in years was the very one Garrett Nash hired to help his wife for the summer. Even more strange was the fact they both started work at Nash’s Folly on the same day.

  Lost in his musings, Riley finished riding the fence line at the far end of the property and headed back toward Aundy and Garrett’s house. He stopped to let Mud get a drink from the creek and noticed a patch of daisies growing in a sunny spot a few feet away.

  Without giving a thought to his intentions, Riley gathered a bouquet of the flowers. He removed his neckerchief and dunked it in the creek, then wrapped the stems in the wet cloth to keep them from wilting on the way back to the house.

  When he returned, he rode up to the house and left Mud outside the gate of the side yard. He stepped onto the back porch and tapped on the kitchen’s screen door.

  No one answered so he tapped again and waited. Finally concluding no one was home, he stepped inside and left the daisies on the counter by the sink then hurried back to his horse.

  After joining the hands at the bunkhouse for dinner, he rode out, tipping his head and politely touching the brim of his hat to Aundy and Bertie as they sat in chairs on the front porch, enjoying the evening breeze.

  “Have a nice night, Riley,” Aundy called, waving as he rode away.

  He hadn’t missed the vase of daisies sitting next to Bertie as she ran a needle and thread through a piece of pink calico fabric. She’d found the flowers and, from all appearances, liked them.

  The following morning, he’d barely stepped out of the saddle in front of Garrett’s barn when he heard footsteps behind him He glanced over his s
houlder as Bertie approached him.

  “Morning, Miss Hawkins,” Riley said, distracted by the sight of her. Sunlight danced through the pile of curls on top of her head. The golden glow of the sunrise highlighted the creamy perfection of her skin and the entirely kissable state of her pink lips. Warmth and a spark of liveliness danced in her deep blue eyes.

  Rather than surrender to his irrational yearning to hold her, he worked the cinch loose on his saddle.

  “I, um…” Bertie stopped a few feet away and scuffed the toe of her shoe in the dirt, stirring up little puffs of dust. “I owe you an apology, Mr. Walsh.”

  Riley stopped fussing with Mud’s saddle and stared at Bertie. “For what?”

  “It was completely inappropriate for me to throw eggs at you yesterday. In addition, I failed to thank you for coming to my rescue. Left to my own defenses, I might still be sitting in the pen, surrounded by demented chickens intent on inflicting harm.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I think you would have been just fine without my help.” His eyes trailed over her from head to toe then settled on her face. “I’m sorry I laughed, Miss Hawkins. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  Bertie didn’t know what to say to his sincere apology. She could tell it was earnest by the humble look on his face and the kindness in his eyes. “You’re forgiven, this time.” Bertie smiled and held out a square of fabric to him. “Unless I’m mistaken, this belongs to you.”

  As he took his neckerchief from her hand, his fingers brushed across her open palm. They both drew in a startled breath at the jolt the touch created. Bertie raised her gaze to his. Her eyes were wide and luminous as surprise and something Riley refused to acknowledge shined in their depths.

  Hastily, he stuffed the square into his pocket and nodded his head. “Thank you for returning it. Did you find the flowers?”

  “I did. Daisies are my favorite.” Bertie took a step back, too aware of her interest in Riley Walsh. Too unsettled by what his handsome features and resonant voice did to her sensibilities. Around him, she felt like a tongue-tied ninny. Yet, at the same time, her thoughts lingered on how much she’d like to be held in his arms, taste his kisses. It was positively… indecent how frequently he’d invaded her thoughts in the last week.