She lifted her head. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m sorry.” She wanted to blurt out so much more—to tell him how terrified she’d been, how seeing him in danger had opened her eyes to so many things that even now she found difficult to admit. That she was beginning to care about him … no, care for him … in a way that scared her, clear to the tips of her toes. She couldn’t allow herself to care, couldn’t become vulnerable to a man who might run off and abandon her.
This time it was Steven’s turn to stare. At last he said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so blunt. This is your ranch, and you have the right to run it however you see fit.”
“But I don’t have the right to be rude or disrespectful to anyone, whether or not they live or work here. If you don’t mind my asking, what did you mean about being raised on a farm and pushing a plow? You mentioned that before you moved here. If you grew up on a farm, what made you leave?”
Leah waited, but Steven didn’t reply. “You don’t have to tell me.” She got up. “I’ll leave you and Rusty alone now. I’m sorry I bothered you, but I do hope you’ll forgive me and consider staying.”
Steven rose, making the rocker creak just as her boot hit the bottom step of his porch. “Please wait. You caught me off guard, but I’d like to answer your question.”
Leah swiveled. Did he mean what he’d said, or was it simply his innate courtesy coming to the fore? “You’re sure?”
He nodded. “Want to sit again?”
“Thanks.” She made her way back to the rocker. This man unsettled her, made her question herself in too many ways. All this time she’d seen herself as a woman who could take the reins from her father and run things better than he did. Then along came Steven Harding—who one minute drew her like a hummingbird to nectar and the next minute left her bristling like a porcupine threatened by a bear—and she found herself stumbling over her feet and making repeated mistakes.
He leaned forward and propped his hands on his knees. The dog advanced and licked Steven’s fingers.
Leah smiled, touched by the picture. “He’s not typically so friendly except toward family.” She’d often heard that dogs didn’t give their affection to someone who couldn’t be trusted, but was that really true? A tiny part of her felt irritated that Rusty had gone so readily to Steven, rather than to her, but another part rejoiced that the dog had accepted the man so completely.
“I’ve always loved dogs. So how’s your father today?”
Her mind spun with the change of topic. She wanted to learn more about Steven, not talk about her father. “He’s resting. After the . . . numbness wore off, he’s in worse pain than I expected, but the doctor gave him laudanum.”
His eyes mirrored warmth. “I’m glad it was only a broken arm. It could have been so much worse.”
“That’s what I told him, but Pa seems to be hard of hearing when it comes to his actions lately.” She bit her lip to keep from blurting out something she’d regret. From the look in Steven’s eyes she knew he’d understood the cause of her father’s accident. He scarcely could have missed the strong odor of alcohol on Pa.
“Maybe you’re being too hard on him.”
A lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed. What business did he have making a statement like that when he had no idea what her life had been like since her mother’s death? “I thought you were going to tell me about being raised on a farm, not pass judgment on me.”
His hand that had been stroking Rusty’s head stilled. Then he slowly nodded. “You’re right. It isn’t my business, of course. I simply thought that, if anything specific caused your father’s behavior, perhaps there might be a remedy.”
She pushed to her feet, fighting angry tears. Why was she always the one who needed to understand Pa or make allowances? “You know nothing about my circumstances or what I’ve had to put up with for years. Pa drinks because he’s still grieving my mother’s death. What he doesn’t recognize is that I lost both parents when she passed, not to mention my little brother, who left home three years later.
“Pa wallows in his grief and buries it in drink, while I’m supposed to remain strong and keep things running on the ranch—a ranch I’ll probably never own. And, all the while, I should understand his behavior and ‘not be so hard on him.’”
Leah stomped off the porch, then pivoted back. “Come on, Rusty, let’s go to the house. I need to check on Pa.”
She leveled a steady gaze on Steven. “You might want to get some sleep. We start branding tomorrow, and I’ll need you all day.” She spun and headed toward the house, hoping Steven’s time spent living on a farm had given him better skills with cattle than what he had with women.
Chapter Fourteen
April 26, 1881
Frances hobbled around the front of her buggy and tied the mare to the hitching rail. Two days ago at church she’d talked to Millie, Leah’s housekeeper, and inquired as to Leah’s absence. The good woman had informed her Mr. Pape had met with an accident and broken his arm.
Poor Millie had too much in her lap, caring for that irascible creature while Leah and Millie’s husband, Buddy, were left with most of the work outdoors. Frances wondered if the man had been drinking while trying to ride his horse. It wouldn’t surprise her at all.
She grimaced as she eased onto the first step leading up to the porch. Why did her ankles have to bother her at the most inopportune times? If only this gout would disappear once and for all, but it seemed she was destined to be plagued the rest of her days, unless the good Lord saw fit to remove it.
She raised her eyes toward heaven. “Well, what do You say, Lord? I would not mind a little help with my old joints, if You can spare the time.” She grimaced. “I realize You have other things to keep You busy, like that stubborn old coot laid up with a broken arm.”
She flicked her fingers toward the Pape ranch house. “Why You bother with that man, I am not sure. Of course, why I bother with him is a bigger mystery.”
As she climbed up the steps to the porch, she clutched the railing, wondering yet again if this trip was a mistake. The last time she’d seen Charlie Pape, he’d burst from a saloon and nearly fallen on his face at her feet. Why she cared what happened to him mystified her still. But she did for Leah’s sake, and that was the honest-to-goodness truth.
It was doubtful the old rascal was worth saving, but Frances had to try or she couldn’t live with herself. It was her Christian duty to set the man’s feet on the right road, before his drinking ways led him down a slick path straight to perdition.
She lifted her arm to rap on the door, but it opened before her knuckles met wood.
Millie stood in the doorway, a shawl around her shoulders, hat perched on her head, and handbag looped over her wrist. “Oh my! Pardon me, Mrs. Cooper. I didn’t hear you knock.”
“There is no need to apologize. I had not done so yet.” Frances smiled. “I see you are on your way out. Would you be going to market?”
Millie bobbed her head. “Yes, ma’am. Were you here to see Miss Leah? She should be home anytime. I think she’s out in the pasture checkin’ on calves that were born last night.”
Frances shifted her weight from one sore foot to the other. “I had hoped to see Leah, but I am calling on Mr. Pape to see how his arm is faring.”
Millie’s brows rose and touched the wisps of hair feathering her forehead. “You came to see Charlie? My word, I do declare.” Her lips parted, and she stared, then shook herself as though waking from a startling dream.
Frances crossed her arms over her chest. “And why is that so disturbing, my good woman? I am here to do my Christian duty, nothing more. I heard he was injured and came to pay my respects, as well as have a word with Leah.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cooper. I didn’t mean no disrespect. Forgive my poor manners.” She swept open the door and ushered Frances inside. “I’ll take my hat and shawl off and
fix you a cup of coffee or tea.” She plucked her straw hat from her gray curls and carefully hung it on a peg behind the door. “The coffeepot is on the stove and warm, and I can put a pot of tea to steep in a jiffy if you’d prefer.”
Frances waved in dismissal. “Nonsense. Get along to your shopping. I do not require refreshment. A glass of water will suffice.”
A pained look crossed Millie’s face, and she wrung her hands. “But, Mrs. Cooper, what would people say if I left you and Charlie alone together before Miss Leah gets home? You don’t want tongues to wag, do you?”
Frances stared at her, unable to decide if she should laugh at the woman or scold her for being so foolish. She would only offend the poor lady by uttering harsh or critical words, so she said instead, “I am not in the least worried about tongues wagging. How will anyone know Mr. Pape and I are alone until Leah returns unless you tell them? And I am sure you do not plan to do so. I am a mature matron, and Mr. Pape is an invalid, so there is nothing to be concerned about, in any event.”
She plucked Millie’s hat off the hook and held it out. “Please, go on to town. If you would let Mr. Pape know I have come to call before you leave, I would be most appreciative.” She tilted her head. “I assume he is up to seeing callers by now?”
Millie accepted the hat with a hesitant look toward the stairs. “He came down for dinner at noon but went to take a nap. I can go see if he’s up to receivin’ you. But I don’t mind stayin’ till Miss Leah returns, truly I don’t.”
“Piffle. That is not necessary. I do not care to be responsible for you not getting your supplies before the stores close.” She pulled off her gloves and placed them on a table beside the door.
Millie cast a wary glance at Frances, then sidled to the stairs. “All right. Give me a minute, and I’ll tell Charlie you’re here.” She scurried away, her heavy shoes clomping on the wood steps.
Frances heaved a sigh. This was the right decision and hopefully would be a help to Leah, but would Charles Pape agree? Then again, did it matter what the man thought? It was apparent from what Leah had shared in the past that he didn’t seem to care about his daughter’s feelings or how his actions might embarrass her.
She gave a half shrug. It was not her concern whether he appreciated her visit or not. She would do what she believed to be best, and Mr. Pape would simply need to deal with it.
The tread of even heavier feet thudded down the hall upstairs. “Millie, you don’t make a bit of sense.” The crotchety voice of Charles Pape drifted downstairs. “If there’s some church woman comin’ to call, you should have sent her packin’. You know I don’t cater to the likes of those women beggin’ for handouts for their preacher or the folks who don’t want to work.”
“No, Charlie, she ain’t a church lady. I mean, of course she attends church, but she’s not here to ask for money.” Millie’s irritated words could be heard all the way to the first floor. “Suit yourself. Storm on down there and see what you get for your trouble. I’m goin’ to town.” Millie swept down the stairwell, her eyes stormy.
She paused at the bottom and smirked. “He’s not in a good humor, ma’am, but I’m guessin’ you’re more than a match for him, even on his best day. I reckon Leah will be rescuin’ him when she gets back, if I got my facts straight.”
She gathered her shawl around her shoulders and refastened it with a large broach at the neck. “If he gives you too much trouble, speak your mind and don’t back down.”
Frances smiled. “I always do, Millie.” She stared up the staircase at Charles Pape, whose face twisted into a fierce glower. “Are you going to stand up there all day grumbling, Mr. Pape, or come down here and greet me as you ought to? After all, you are the one who invited me to come to your ranch. Show some hospitality, for heaven’s sake!”
Charles gaped, his mind unable to focus until he heard the click of the front door as Millie disappeared. Why had his faithful employee abandoned him to the wiles of this woman? And where was Leah when he needed her? “Leah!” He swiveled his head and stepped close to the banister, peering down to the first floor below.
Frances shook her head. “She is working, Mr. Pape, so there is no need to shout.”
“I ain’t shoutin’, woman. If I wanted to shout, you’d know it, and that’s a fact.” He gripped the rail and leaned against it. “What are you doin’ here, anyway, and why do you want to stay if Leah’s not home?”
Frances planted her hands on her hips and huffed. “You sorry old galoot, I came to check on you. But I suppose that is hard to believe. I heard you were injured and thought to pay my respects. Now, are you coming downstairs, or do I need to get two mugs of coffee from the kitchen and take them up there?”
Shock galvanized Charlie into action, and he scooted down the stairs, still keeping a firm grip on the banister. No sense in taking another fall and breaking the other arm, or this woman might decide she’d need to plague him again. “No call to do that, Mrs. Cooper.”
He halted on the landing at the bottom and scowled. “That is your name? I seem to remember meetin’ you in town not long ago.”
A pleased smile dawned, then vanished as quickly as it had come, making Charlie wonder if he’d seen it at all.
“So you do remember our earlier encounter.” She gave a brisk nod. “Very good. I was hoping you were not so impaired that day to completely forget. As I recollect, you invited me to pay you a call. I would not have done so at all had you not had the misfortune to break your arm.”
Charlie shuffled his feet, suddenly uncomfortable at the memory of the rash words he’d spilled that day. Impaired, she called it. Well, she was being polite, and he admired her for that, anyway. “I suppose I should thank you for your kindness, ma’am, but there was no call for you to drive clear out here. I’m gettin’ along tolerable well, although my arm’s painin’ me some.”
Compassion flooded her face, and her body relaxed from her stiff stance. “I am sorry to hear that. Would you care to sit in the parlor while I bring you a cup of coffee? Millie informed me she left a pot simmering on the back of the stove. I also brought a bottle of liniment for your arm. It will not heal a broken bone, but I know from experience that it can help when it aches badly.”
For a moment, he considered her request. Once they’d finished, he could beg off any more talking and tell her he needed to rest. In fact, he’d probably want another nap by then, if this blamed arm kept throbbing. “Much obliged for the liniment, if I do say so. All right, then. Coffee don’t sound half bad.”
A brief smile softened her features, making her quite pretty. “Why, Mr. Pape, I see you are not entirely without manners.” She clucked her tongue and gestured toward the parlor. “Now, go have a seat and rest that arm. I will be back straightaway.”
He sank into the divan and tugged a pillow under his arm, heaving a sigh of relief, then leaned his head against the cushion and closed his eyes. He could go to sleep right here, if that woman hadn’t invaded his home. Remorse tickled his thoughts as he remembered her smile and her offer to help. Maybe she wasn’t as bossy as he’d thought at first meeting. Then again, that meeting was still a bit hazy, so he might not have been fair to the woman.
She swept back into the room, her full skirt swishing around her ankles, her hands clutching a tray with two steaming mugs. “I was not certain if you take yours black, but I did not know if you have milk or cream in the house. I do hope this will be suitable, Mr. Pape.”
He reached for a mug as she brought the tray down in front of him. “It’s fine, thank you. I always take it black.” Charlie searched around in his head for something to say next but came up empty. Other than Leah and Millie, he had no experience talking to women—not since Mary. He took a sip and scowled at the memory.
Mrs. Cooper settled into a wingback chair and watched him. “Too hot or too strong?”
“No, it’s fine. Guess my arm gave me a twinge there fo
r a minute.” The half-truth slipped out before he could stop it. His arm hadn’t stopped hurting and throbbing since he’d come downstairs, but that wasn’t what had caused his unease.
“What happened?” Frances leaned back and leveled him with a look.
Charlie squirmed, certain she must be reading his thoughts somehow about Mary, but maybe he’d better be sure before he blurted out something he couldn’t undo. “I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ about. Maybe you’d best explain.”
She motioned toward his arm. “How did it happen? Or is that another delicate subject?”
He reared back against the divan and spluttered, “Another? What are you implyin’, woman?”
“My name is Mrs. Cooper, not ‘woman,’” she replied in a feisty tone. “The last time we spoke I suggested you stop drinking, if for no other reason than it would be a mercy for your daughter, not to mention your own well-being. I assumed that was a delicate subject for you, as you did not care to continue the conversation. I am not a person who beats around the bush or plays parlor games like a child.”
Charlie’s head now pounded to the same rhythm as his arm, and he wondered if it might split wide open. He blinked. “I have no idea what you are talking about, wom—” He winced. “Mrs. Cooper. If you got a question, spit it out. Don’t dance around like a man with hot coals down his britches.”
Her lips formed an O. “Why would a man have … never mind. Did your unfortunate injury come about because you were drinking again, or did you meet with some other kind of accident?”
He rubbed his forehead, wishing the pounding would stop. “I’ll have you know I didn’t have a drop—”
He raised his eyes to meet hers and winced again, but this time at the disbelief and disappointment shining so clearly. “All right. The truth, then. I was angry about an incident from the past that I still ain’t over. It was eatin’ at me somethin’ fierce, and I took to drinkin’, hopin’ to forget. I guess I wandered out into the field and left the gate open, not thinkin’ about the bull bein’ there, and he treed me. It was hard to hold on to the branch, and I fell out and busted my arm. There. You happy now?”
Dreaming on Daisies: A Novel (Love Blossoms in Oregon Series Book 3) Page 12