The Hired Man

by Lynna Banning

  He tightened his hands on the reins. After the apple harvest drew to a close and he moved on to California...

  Oh, hell. He wasn’t ready for it to come to a close, not yet. He urged the horse to pick up its pace. Chances were he wouldn’t reach Smoke River until three or four in the morning, but he wanted to be there, not here on this endless road.

  It grew black—dark, with no moon. He passed a stand of Douglas firs and thought about reining up for a few hours of sleep, then decided against it. He blinked hard and kept going.

  Danny, you’re coming with me on the next trip to Gillette Springs. His ma wouldn’t like it, but so what? The kid was almost ten years old; it was time for him to take on more responsibility, especially since Cord planned to leave as soon as... Well, soon. Besides, Danny’s chatter would help keep him awake.

  * * *

  Eleanor finished drying the last supper plate and stacked it in the china cabinet. She could hear Molly and Danny arguing about something on the porch; their voices rose and then faded away as they raced off toward the barn.

  She hung the damp dish towel by the stove, slipped her garden shears into her apron pocket and walked out through the screen door and down the steps. She headed out past the maple trees to her flower garden, where she intended to pick more black-eyed Susans for the kitchen table and a fresh bouquet of fragrant alyssum and pinks for her bedroom.

  When the sun went down, the heavenly sweet scent of the white nicotiana filled the evening air. Each time she passed the gravestone at the far end of the garden plot she said a brief prayer for little Amanda Martin. She bent to snip a handful of blooms, then thought she heard a horse. Surely Cord couldn’t be back so soon? She stepped through the maple trees and her entire body went cold.

  A horse she didn’t recognize was tied to the porch rail, and a man was tramping up her front steps. He wore a high-crowned hat and his spurs jingled at each step. She didn’t recognize the horse, or the man, and she suddenly realized that this stranger stood between her and the revolver she kept above the front door.

  The man peered through the screen and rapped on the wood, then turned toward her.

  “H’lo, Ellie.”

  Her breath choked off. “Tom!” Then her vision went gray and her knees threatened to buckle. “Tom, what are you doing here?”

  He barked out a harsh laugh. “I live here, remember?”

  She would never have recognized him in a hundred years. His skin was sun-leathered, and the shadow of a beard darkened his chin. She worked to steady her voice. “You’ve been gone over seven years! Where have you been?”

  He sent her a sidelong look. “Didja miss me?”

  Eleanor bit her lip. “The War ended and months and months went by, and then years passed with no word. Not one word came from anyone with news that you’d been killed or captured or... You didn’t desert, did you?”

  He worked the toe of one boot into the dirt. “Nah, I didn’t desert. Sure wanted to, though.”

  “Why didn’t you write? You could at least have let me know you were alive. Why didn’t you?”

  He started down the porch steps. “Aw, c’mon, Ellie. I’m home now. Aren’tcha glad to see me?”

  “I—It’s been so long I don’t even know you.”

  “Ellie...”

  “Don’t come near me!”

  “Can I at least put my horse in the barn?”

  “No, you cannot. You ride on back to town and leave me alone.” Some instinct told her she didn’t want him to know she and the children were alone out here. “Go on, get on your horse and ride out.”

  He swore, strode over to his horse and swung into the saddle. Instantly she dashed up the porch steps and made a beeline for the revolver over the door. Then she called the children into the house, locked the front door and sent them up to bed.

  When she heard their bedroom door shut, she began to shake uncontrollably. The rest of the night she sat rigid on the settee in the parlor, positioned so she could see out the front window.

  And she kept the loaded revolver in her lap.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cord guided the wagon in through the gate and walked the gray gelding into the barn. It must be almost dawn and he was so tired he couldn’t see straight. He unhitched the wagon, rubbed down the mare and fed her some oats, then climbed up to his pallet in the loft. In an instant he was asleep.

  Late the next morning the sun streamed in through the small loft window and he sat up, rubbed his unshaven chin and pushed Mama Cat and her three kittens off his chest into the straw. He’d better hurry or he’d miss breakfast.

  Just as he stepped out the barn door, an unfamiliar horse turned in at the gate. The rider’s face was hidden by a new-looking wide-brimmed black hat, but Cord couldn’t help noticing the man’s fancy tooled boots and the jinglebobs on his spurs. The saddle looked Spanish.

  The stranger dismounted, tied his horse to the fence rail and tramped up onto the porch. He didn’t stop to knock, just pushed on through the screen door. The hair on the back of Cord’s neck prickled.

  He followed the man through the door, noting that his hat had been carelessly tossed onto the settee in the parlor. Cord moved on into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks.

  Eleanor stood at the stove, cracking eggs into a ceramic bowl, and the stranger was seated in Cord’s chair at the kitchen table.

  He cleared his throat and Eleanor spun toward him. “Oh, Cord, you’re back! I—I’m glad.”

  Her face looked anything but glad. She looked exhausted, like she’d been awake all night, and her eyes looked funny. Uneasy. “Eleanor? What’s going on?”

  She waved a fluttery hand at the man sitting at the table. “Cord, this is my... This is Tom Malloy.”

  He stared hard at the man for so long he stopped fiddling with his fork and looked up. “Cordell Winterman,” Cord said at last. He didn’t offer to shake hands.

  “Um... Tom has just returned from...?” Eleanor sent her husband a questioning look. “From...?”

  “Mexico.”

  Cord lifted his eyebrows at Eleanor. She turned back to the bowl of half-beaten eggs and at that moment the kids thumped down the staircase.

  “Cord!” Danny yelped. “You’re back!”

  Molly clasped his trouser leg and lifted her arms to him. He bent to pick her up, took the chair across from Malloy and settled the girl on his lap. He noticed that a fifth chair had been drawn up to the breakfast table.

  “Danny,” Eleanor began. “Do you remember your...” She tipped her head toward the stranger. “Your father?”

  Danny’s face went white and he studied the man. “You’re my pa?” he said in a doubtful voice. “Ma says I was only two when you went away, so I guess I don’t recognize you.”

  “And who’s this?” Malloy boomed, looking at the girl Cord held on his lap.

  “This is your daughter, Tom. Molly. She was born nine months after you left.”

  Malloy said nothing. Molly snuggled closer to Cord, and he patted her bony spine. Eleanor gave a final vicious frothing of the eggs with her fork and turned toward the stove.

  “I don’t believe you’re my pa,” Danny muttered. “Prove it.”

  Malloy raised his hand as if to slap the boy. “Tom!” Eleanor shouted. “Don’t you dare touch my son!”

  “Aw, c’mon, Ellie. A little discipline never hurt a kid.”

  Cord set Molly on her feet, stood up and shoved her and Danny behind him. “You heard her, Malloy. You lay a hand on either of these kids and you’ll answer to me.”

  “Oh, yeah? Just who do you think you are, mister?”

  “I’m the hired man.”

  “Well, Mr. Hired Man, this is my farm. I’m home now, and I don’t need any hired man.”

  Eleanor moved
to face her husband. “This is my farm, Tom. The deed is in my name.”

  “Huh! You’re still my wife, Ellie. And I’m still your husband. What I say is the law around here, and I say your hired man rides out of here before the sun goes down.”

  Cord clenched his jaw. “I’m not riding anywhere, Malloy. Eleanor hired me and I’ll go when she fires me.”

  Eleanor poured the beaten eggs into the skillet and stood at the stove, poking at them and biting her lip. She guessed it was a standoff, but she knew things weren’t finished between her hired man and her husband. Or between Tom and herself. It left her with a hard knot in the pit of her stomach.

  With a shaking hand she dumped the scrambled eggs onto a platter and lifted a dozen slices of crisp toast from the oven rack. “Sit down and eat, Cord. Molly, Daniel, have you washed your hands?”

  Both children nodded and scrambled back onto their chairs. She poured coffee for Cord and her husband and took a seat between them, putting Molly and Danny on either side of her. Neither child, she noticed, spared a glance at Tom. On impulse she folded her hands and bent her head.

  “Dear Lord...” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cord send her a puzzled look. In all the months he’d been here, she had never once said grace. She gave him what she hoped was a significant look and went on.

  “We thank You for the food we are about to eat and for our many blessings, for the hens that lay our eggs, for the apple trees that provide our income, for the good health of Molly and Daniel.” She paused and swallowed. “And we thank you for Cord Winterman, my hired man. Without him, this farm would not have survived these past months. Amen.”

  “How come you didn’t mention me in your blessing, Ellie?” Tom growled.

  “Because,” she said calmly, “I don’t know whether you are a blessing or not. You’ve been gone so long I hardly know you. You’re like a stranger.”

  “We’ll get to know each other soon enough, Ellie. Tonight, maybe.”

  She stiffened. “No, we will not, Tom. You will be sleeping in the barn.”

  “The barn!” He reached for the platter of scrambled eggs and she rapped her fork sharply on his knuckles. “In this house, the children eat first.” She spooned eggs onto Molly and Danny’s plates, then passed the platter to Cord.

  “The hell I’m gonna sleep in the barn,” Tom muttered. “A man has his rights.”

  Cord shoved the platter of scrambled eggs in front of him. “She said you’re sleeping in the barn, Malloy. If I was you I’d take that as a polite request.”

  “Well, you’re not me, hired man. I’ll sleep where I damn well please.”

  Eleanor clanked her fork onto the table. “You will sleep in the barn, Tom. Or you will sleep in town.”

  “Huh!” He eyed Cord. “I wonder where your hired man sleeps.”

  “In the attic,” Cord said quickly, with a questioning look at her.

  She swallowed. “Yes, Cord sleeps in the attic.”

  A long, awkward silence fell. Finally Cord picked up his spoon and began stirring some milk from Molly’s glass into his coffee. Eleanor shot him a puzzled glance; Cord always drank his coffee black.

  “I’m going to be picking apples today,” he announced. “Later I’ll load them into the wagon to take into town. Anybody want to help?”

  “I will!” Danny sang out.

  Molly looked at her mother. “I wanna play with my dollies. Can I?”

  Eleanor smiled at her. “Yes, honey. Your dollies need you to dress them up nice. I will be helping Cord in the orchard.” She pushed a bite of scrambled egg into her mouth and forced herself to swallow it down. It tasted like shoe leather.

  Tom pursed his lips. “Me, I’m gonna mosey on into town. Got some catching up to do.”

  Nobody said a word.

  * * *

  Cord heaved the bushel basket into the back of the wagon, grabbed an empty one and handed it down to Danny. “Take this to your ma, over behind that ladder.” He picked up another and followed the boy to where Eleanor sat on the bottom rung, one hand over her eyes.

  “Getting tired?” he asked.

  “No. What I’m getting is worried.”

  He pointed to where he wanted Danny to drop the empty basket, and the boy moved away. “Worried about what? Looks like it’s gonna be a real good apple harvest.”

  “I’m not worried about apples, Cord. I’m worried about Tom.”

  He went down on one knee in front of her. “What about Tom?”

  “There’s something odd about him. Something I can’t put my finger on.”

  Cord nodded. He wouldn’t describe Tom Malloy as odd, exactly. More like obnoxious. Maybe even violent.

  “Could be he’s just throwing his weight around. You know, testing the waters.”

  “The waters have been tested. He thinks he owns everything he sees, including me. I’m afraid of him, Cord.”

  “Eleanor, he doesn’t own you. And if I remember right, he doesn’t own this farm.”

  “Just think,” she said quietly, staring at the ground. “I am afraid of my own husband.”

  He waited, saying nothing.

  “Cord, I do want you to sleep in the attic. It’s probably dusty up there and full of cobwebs, but I’ll clean it up before tonight.”

  “I’m not worried about a few cobwebs. To be frank, I’m more concerned about Tom, even if he is sleeping in the barn.”

  She knew she was frowning, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Never in all the years she had known Tom Malloy had she felt this uneasy.

  “Eleanor, does your back door lock?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never locked it before, or the front door, either, until last night. I guess you were right when you said I should.”

  “I’ll pick up a lock set in town this afternoon.”

  She lifted her head and stared out into the orchard, then turned toward the soft thudding sound of Danny’s tossing apples into the bushel basket. “This basket’s full, Cord,” Danny yelled. “I need another empty one.”

  Eleanor stood up and smoothed out her blue denim work apron. “I need to keep busy.” She moved to the wagon and grabbed an empty basket, then tramped back toward Danny while Cord lugged the full bushel of apples to the wagon and set it in the bed.

  He liked the idea of sleeping in the attic. But he couldn’t help wondering how Tom was going to like sleeping in the barn loft with Mama Cat and a passel of kittens. Not much, he figured. Probably not at all. Good.

  He also liked the idea of locking both front and back doors at night. But if he was honest with himself, what he liked best was the idea of sleeping just a few steps away from Eleanor.

  * * *

  Eleanor pushed open the door to the attic and peered into the gloom. She hadn’t been up here for so many years she’d all but forgotten the tiny room that housed unused trunks and old books and the children’s outgrown cradle. A narrow bed stood under the small window, with a worn mattress that no doubt needed turning. The windowpanes were so covered with dust and spiderwebs that precious little sunlight filtered through.

  She studied the task ahead of her, then went back down the stairs to fetch her broom, cleaning rags and a bucket of hot water. When she had lugged it all back upstairs, she sat down to rest, then made a point of dusting off not only the window but the trunks and all the books, which she stacked on one oak-paneled trunk that served as a night table. Then she scrubbed the windowpanes until they shone and made up the bed with clean sheets and an unused quilt from her own bed, fluffed up the feather pillow she’d found in the linen closet and heaved a tired sigh.

  Three hours later she dumped the filthy water on the pink rose by the back porch and collapsed on the settee in the front parlor. She was too exhausted to even brew a cup of tea. Doc Dougherty was right; recovery was two s
teps forward and one step back. Right now she felt like “one step back.”

  But the little attic room at the top of the stairs was as clean and dust-free as she could make it. Now that she had brushed all the spiderwebs off the window, there was even enough light to read by. Did her hired man read? she wondered. All at once she realized she actually knew very little about Cord.

  But she was certain of one thing: she felt safe when Cord was near. Now that he would be sleeping just a few feet away from her at night, she felt even more protected.

  It was strange that Tom’s presence had stirred up such uneasiness. There was something different about him, something she had never seen before. It was a kind of sly look she glimpsed at odd times, and he now walked with an unmistakable swagger. She had never seen arrogance in Tom before, and she wondered at it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next afternoon, after skipping their usual noon dinner and devouring hurry-up sandwiches of bacon and ripe tomatoes from Eleanor’s vegetable garden, Cord set off for town with Danny and a wagonload of apples for Carl Ness at the mercantile. Tom had disappeared right after breakfast.

  They had barely cleared the front gate when Danny started in with the questions.

  “Cord, if that man’s my pa, how come I don’t like him?”

  “Maybe because you haven’t seen him for seven years. Your ma hasn’t seen him, either.”

  “But I never even laid eyes on you before you came to work here for Ma, and I like you. Don’t make sense.”

  “Some things in life don’t make sense, Dan.”

  “I don’t think Ma likes him, either,” the boy blurted out. “D’you think she does?”