Groom Wanted

by Debra Ullrick

  “Just a minute, okay? Don’t go anywhere.” He released the Jersey into the corral, where she’d stay until he finished milking the rest of them, then he’d shoo them back out into the pasture.

  He haltered another one and moved the cow where the other one had been.

  Leah stood on the cow’s left, staring at the animal with inquisitive eyes. “This is going to sound strange, but I’ve never milked a cow before. I always wanted to, but my brothers always did it. Would you mind showing me how it’s done?”

  Jake looked at her clean yet simple dress. “You might get dirty.”

  “So?” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if I do. This dress is old. I wear it when I help Mother and Veronique around the house. Besides, I’ll change before I head into town so no need to worry about soiling it.” She glanced at the cow and then back at him. “What do you say? Would you be willing to show me how it’s done?”

  Was he? Sure. Why not? Could be fun even. He gave a quick nod, grabbed the brim of his hat and lowered it back into place. “Come around to this side. Make sure you walk out and back far enough that she can’t kick you.”

  She did as she was instructed to. Farther than necessary, even.

  “Okay. Sit down.” He motioned for her to sit on the stool.

  She tucked her skirt under her and sat with her shoulder against the cow’s right side.

  He placed the bucket underneath the udder, squatted down next to her and rested his weight on the heel of his boot. “Okay. Here’s what you do. Reach under here and grab the...um...grab the...uh...” Heat rose up the back of his neck. From the corner of his eye, he peeked at Leah. Her face reminded him of a ripened tomato.

  God, help me out here, okay?

  He roped some courage to himself and after a deep breath, he said, “Wrap your hand around...um...this right here.” Jake demonstrated where she should place her hand. “Keep it close to the...um...” He cleared his throat. “The udder. Then squeeze.” A stream of milk landed in the pail. “Okay. Now you do it.”

  He avoided looking at her face but watched as she did just as he’d told her to. Nothing came out.

  She turned toward him with concern. “What did I do wrong?”

  “Don’t know. Try it again.”

  She did, and again nothing happened.

  “You squeezing hard enough?”

  “I don’t want to hurt her.” She blinked wide eyes at him as if what he’d said was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard.

  Jake chuckled. “You won’t hurt her. Here. Let me show you how much pressure to apply.” He laid his hand on top of hers. Her small hand disappeared under his larger one. Gently, he guided her hand with his and the milk spurted out. A couple of tries later, he removed his hand. Milk continued to splatter into the bucket.

  “I did it.” The sound in her voice and the look on her face reminded him of a child who’d just learned to catch a ball for the first time.

  “You sure did.” He watched as she continued to milk the cow and even managed to get most of it into the bucket. “Hey, you’re not doing too bad for a girl.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She cocked her head the way she did so often.

  “You said your brothers never let you milk a cow. Figured they didn’t ’cause you were a girl.”

  “Don’t see what being a girl has to do with anything. Lots of women milk cows.”

  He noticed her emphasis on girl and women. Her way of letting him know she wasn’t a girl but a woman. No need for her to point that out to him. That detail definitely hadn’t skipped his notice. “Prissy little women like yourself don’t,” he teased.

  “Prissy? Me?”

  Just then drops of milk hit the top of his cheekbone.

  She giggled.

  “Hey.” He jumped up, raised his hat and ran the back of his sleeve over his face.

  Another round of drops splattered against his neck. She chuckled again.

  “What is wrong with you, woman?” He grabbed the ratty handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans and wiped off his neck.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me.” She sent him a cheeky grin, then dipped her fingertips in the milk bucket again and flicked the liquid toward him. This time it landed near his mouth. After a quick swipe to remove the splatters, before she could hit him again, he dropped to a squat, dipped his hand in the bucket and tossed it at her. The milk landed in her hair.

  She squealed, then nailed him again in the ear with a handful before he had a chance to block it.

  He scooped another handful, and this time the milk landed on her cheek.

  She shrieked and started to shove the stool out of the way, but one of the three legs caught on the dirt floor, and the stool tipped over. Her arms shot out in front of her. He tried to catch them but couldn’t. She landed on her rump, then her back, and ended up with her legs draped up and over the stool.

  “What’s going on in here?” Michael strode in the barn door and right up to them, where he put his hands on his hips to survey the mess.

  In one fluid motion, Jake rose and helped Leah up. He faced Michael, expecting to see anger but instead saw a face spiked with humor. Jake knew what Michael was thinking, but he needed to set that right and fast.

  Leah wiped her soiled hand on her skirt and brushed the dust and hay particles from her dress. Stems of hay hung in her hair, but he wasn’t going to remove them and give Michael any more wrong ideas to speculate over. He quickly used his handkerchief to wipe the milk from his hand.

  “Uh. Hi, Michael,” she said before Jake got anything out. “I, um, I asked Jake to show me how to milk a cow.”

  “Oh. Is that what you were doing?” Michael rubbed his chin.

  “Yes.” Leah slammed her hands on her slender hips. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but you would never teach me how. So I asked Jake to. And I’m pretty good at it, too.” Leah gave her brother a smug look filled with pride.

  “Yes, real good.” Michael peered into the nearly empty pail and then at the two of them. “Looks like you got more on yourselves than in the bucket.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have something better to do? Seems to me you’ve been leaving Selina a lot more often lately. You sure that’s wise?”

  Michael shrugged as Jake assessed Leah out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t dare do more. “Abby’s there. And I don’t leave her for long periods. Besides, they were all sound asleep when I left.” He frowned at Leah. “What are you doing here so early?” Michael eyed Jake and Leah suspiciously.

  “If you must know, Mother asked me to come get the milk.” She looked over at Jake. “May I have those two?”

  Jake snatched up the two cloth-covered buckets sitting on high shelves off of the dirty floor. “I’ll carry these up to the house for you.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can get them. But thanks anyway.” She reached for the buckets, but Jake refused to hand them over to her. They were heavier than they looked.

  “I said I would carry them for you.” He sent her a look that left no room for argument, then turned his focus onto Michael. “Did you come down here for a reason?”

  “Yes.” Michael looked at Leah. “Would you excuse us for a minute?”

  She glanced at Jake and the pails.

  “I’ll bring them up to the house in a minute, okay?”

  Leah nodded, then picked up the milk pail he and Leah had dipped their hands in. “I’ll take this and give it to the pigs.” She left the barn with a quick glance over her shoulder.

  Jake faced Michael and waited.

  “I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Leah posted an advertisement in the New York paper for a husband.” Michael stared at Jake, waiting for his reaction, no doubt.

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Yep.” And that was all he was going to say about it.

  Michael’s mouth twisted. “W
ell, some man answered it and he’s coming out here in a couple of days. I... We... That is, Haydon, Jess and I were wondering if you’d take Leah into town to pick him up. Jess and Haydon can’t, and I don’t want to leave Selina that long. Would you mind? We’d feel a whole lot better if we knew you were with her.”

  Jake wanted to ask why they’d feel better about him being with her, but he didn’t. He would do it to protect her and keep an eye on her—and to meet this dandy who was about to take his place. His place. Listen to him—as if he had a place in Leah’s life. “Be happy to.”

  “Thanks, Jake.” Michael laid his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’ll be there.”

  So would he. So would he.

  * * *

  Leah paced the kitchen floor, wondering where Jake was and what was taking him so long. She couldn’t wait to get the milk. The sooner she did, the sooner she could take care of it so they could head to town.

  “Leah, would you sit down? You’re going to wear a path in the floor. Pacing isn’t going to get that milk here any faster.” Mother added another uniformly diced potato into the large cooking pot filled with cool water. She wanted to have everything ready for when they got back from town to fix pyttipanna, better known in America as Swedish hash.

  Veronique normally did most of the cooking, but with all the extra housecleaning she had to do, Leah and Mother would take care of the cooking and baking for the next couple of days.

  The sound of heavy boots climbing up the steps to the kitchen stopped Leah’s fretting. She darted toward the door and swung it open.

  “Where do you want these?” Jake had a bucket in each hand.

  “On the table will be fine.”

  “Good morning, Katherine.” Jake’s muscles bulged beneath his shirt when he hoisted the pails onto the table. The man sure had nice muscular arms.

  “Good morning to you, too, Jake.”

  He smiled then looked at Leah. “When you’re ready to head into town just let me know and I’ll get the buggy ready.”

  “Thanks, Jake.” Leah watched the broad-shouldered man walk out the door and down the steps. Jake was the sweetest, gentlest man she knew. Someday she hoped he would find a nice woman to marry. She tilted her head, wondering why that thought pinched her soul.

  “Leah, are you listening?” Mother asked from only inches behind Leah.

  Leah whirled and blinked. “Sorry, Mother. I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

  “I said, are you going to stand there gawking at Jake all day or get that milk taken care of?”

  “I wasn’t gawking at Jake,” she murmured under her breath after she brushed past her mother. She snatched up the pails of milk and headed to the creamery room. The heavy buckets weighed her arms down as she trekked through the pantry and into the room farthest away from the heat of the kitchen. Inside the cool room, she continued to murmur. “Sweet twinkling stars above. First Michael and now Mother. Can’t a woman admire a man without everyone assuming they’re a couple? Or that they’re in love? Jake and I have fun together. So what?” She thought about their playful encounter. Jake had such a playful side to him and was so much fun. Too bad Michael had to show up and ruin it.

  Leah set the buckets down and tugged at her lower lip, pondering over what Michael could possibly want to talk to Jake about that she couldn’t hear. Something about that bothered her.

  She quickly finished taking care of the milk, set the table and helped her mother finish dicing the ham and onions. Thankfully this time they wouldn’t be adding any bacon or eggs to the pyttipanna or it would take them even longer to finish. Leah could hardly stand it now. She couldn’t wait to head into town.

  “Those babies are so cute,” Abby said, bursting through the kitchen door. She flopped down into one of the chairs with her legs sprawled in front of her and her arms draped at her sides. “I can’t wait until I become a mother.”

  Leah couldn’t picture her baby sister a mother, although Abby was growing up fast and becoming a beautiful, outgoing woman. When had that happened?

  “That’s the last of the chopping.” Mother stood. “Shall we put this up and get ready to head into town?”

  “Yes.” Leah jumped up and loaded her arms with bowls of chopped food. “Abbs, would you go down to the barn and see if Jake is still there? If he is, would you ask him to get the phaeton that seats four people ready, not the buckboard one?”

  “Sure.” Abby breezed out the door as fast as she’d breezed in.

  That night, after a long day of shopping, Leah wrote about the events of the day in her Mr. Darcy diary. She read the new letters she’d received in response to her post. Not one of them intrigued her like Mr. Barrington’s had. She slid them in the drawer and readied herself for bed, praying the nightmares wouldn’t come. She needed sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day of preparations to meet Mr. Barrington.

  Chapter Eleven

  The day before had gone by in a blur of activities, including attending church. Today Mr. Barrington would arrive.

  Leah studied her reflection in the mirror.

  “You look beautiful, Leah.” Mother stepped up behind her.

  Leah glanced in the looking glass at her mother’s reflection. “Thank you, Mother. And thank you for helping me finish this gown. It’s beautiful.” Leah turned her attention to the soft-pink satin gown.

  The gathered, short sleeves and swooped neckline made her cameo necklace stand out against her sleek neck. She and mother had made a sash that hung below her waist and swept around to form a bustle in the back with a row of pink roses holding it together on the sides. Underneath the sash in front were layers and layers of delicate white ruffled lace that ended about a foot from the bottom hem of the dress. Directly underneath the lacy ruffles they’d sewn a four-inch-wide piece of pink lace all the way around the dress and bustle, leaving the last foot of the gown to match the top. Long, white gloves finished the ensemble.

  Earlier, Mother had helped her sweep her hair back, leaving Leah’s long curls flowing down in the back. She had even woven beaded ribbons through her blond tresses.

  “I haven’t lost my touch,” Mother whispered.

  “What do you mean?” Leah peeled her eyes off of her reflection and onto her mother’s.

  “Back in New York, we used to dress like this all the time. There was always a grand ball somewhere. Or someone was hosting a party. You remember going to them, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” She turned to face her mother. “Do you ever miss it? I mean New York and the balls?”

  “Sometimes yes. Most times no.”

  “What do you miss about it?”

  “I miss being able to wear beautiful dresses once in a while. Not the corsets, though.” They laughed. “I especially miss feeling feminine and pretty.”

  “But you are pretty, Mother.”

  “That’s what Charles, I mean, Mr. Barker, says.” At the mention of his name, especially his first name, Leah stiffened. “If he and I do marry, I’ll be able to wear more gowns again. You know how elite his establishment is. Almost everyone who goes there dresses up,” Mother continued, oblivious to Leah’s discomfort. She was trying to be happy for her mother, she really was, but she couldn’t help but wonder if anyone even cared about her father anymore except for her.

  “Well, enough of that. You need to go or you’ll be late meeting...” She paused. “What was his name again?”

  “Fitzwilliam. Mr. Fitzwilliam Barrington.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Well, run along now. I’ll be praying for you.”

  “I’ll need it. My insides are shaking so badly. I just hope I don’t faint.”

  “You won’t. Just remember to breathe.”

  “Who can breathe with one of these things on?” Leah squirmed in the uncomfortable corset that Rainee had loaned her, saying she didn’t care if she ever got it back. She’d only worn the thing two or three times before. No wonder Rainee refused to wear them. Corsets really were the
most uncomfortable contraptions ever made.

  Mother walked her downstairs and out the door. Standing on the porch, she pulled Leah into a hug and then let her go with a smile and an unshed tear.

  With the grace of a lady, Leah stepped down the porch stairs. At the grass, she turned and waved at her mother, then she raised the pink parasol that matched her dress and glided toward the barn, feeling prettier than she’d ever felt before.

  Her heart skipped when her eyes landed on Jake, standing near the phaeton with the fringed parasol top, dressed in the same suit he had worn to Phoebe’s wedding and looking every bit as handsome as he had that evening.

  She strolled over to him, and he removed his black cowboy hat, pressed it over his midsection and, with a slight bow, he made a sweeping gesture toward the carriage. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”

  She laughed at his antics, then cocked her head and eyed him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m your driver.”

  “My driver?”

  “Yep. You don’t think your brothers were going to let you meet this man without a chaperone, do you?”

  “Well, no. We discussed it the other day, so I knew that someone was going with me. I just didn’t know who. I figured it would be one of them.”

  “Well, Michael asked if I would take you. I told him I’d be happy to.”

  Truth be known, she was happy he was taking her, too.

  “By the way. You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” The compliment meant a lot coming from him.

  “Shall we?” He stood at the backseat of the carriage and offered her his hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Can’t have you sitting up front with the chauffeur, now can we?”

  “You’re not my chauffeur, Jake. You’re my friend.” She snapped her parasol shut, brushed past him, stopped at the front seat and perched her gloved hand toward him. “Now, I’ll take that offered hand up if you don’t mind, kind sir.”

  His smile of approval caused her heart to flip.

  He reached for her gloved hand and steadied her as she rested her foot on the step and climbed aboard. She gathered her skirt inside and placed her parasol next to her.