Blackstone's Bride

by Teresa Southwick

  “Everyone in town knows it’s true. You’re better than the Hollister Gazette for spreading news.”

  Henrietta sniffed scornfully. “It’s nothing more than idle conversation. What am I supposed to do with my customers? A body’s got to make ‘em feel welcome. Gotta chat some.”

  “I’m merely saying you should think before you speak.”

  “All right. I promise. Now what are you up to?”

  Bea smiled. “Jarrod Blackstone’s children want Abby to be the housekeeper. I’m giving them a helping hand.”

  “You know as well as I do that Abby has bigger fish to fry.”

  “That’s what she thinks. I think she shouldn’t spit in the eye of fate.”

  Henrietta traced the handle on her cup. “Are we talkin’ about something besides a new job for Abby? Somethin’ to take her mind off that foolish notion she’s got about goin’ t’find her pa and live with him?”

  “Could be.”

  “You shouldn’t meddle in things, Bea. They have a way of comin’ back on a body.”

  “People who live in log houses should be careful with fire, Hen. You’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

  “That’s not true,” Hen grumbled. “I can’t enjoy it as much as you because you won’t tell me exactly what’s goin’ on.”

  Bea knew she looked like the cat licking cream from her whiskers. But she had worked too hard to ruin things now by giving Hen too much information. “You just do as I told you tomorrow, and you’ll see what I’ve got in mind.”

  Jarrod stared across the boardinghouse hallway that separated him from Abby. It was dim where they stood. The only light came from lanterns mounted on the walls at either end. Their rooms were in the center of the hall.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind having Lily and Katie with you tonight?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “The boys wanted to stay with you. And neither room is big enough for all of them. Seems splitting up for the night is best.”

  “I hate to impose—”

  “Forget it. I love having them. Besides, you paid for dinner. The least I can do is keep the girls.”

  She ran her tongue over her full bottom lip, reminding Jarrod how sweet it had felt to kiss her. His heart quickened, sending blood to points south. He’d tried to fight his involuntary reaction. But try as he might, the sight, sound, smell, and touch of her seemed to bring him alive again. He had thought he was dead inside. He wanted to be; it was easier to feel nothing.

  Unfortunately, the steady throbbing between his legs reminded him painfully that parts of him were still living. The undeniable fact was he wanted to kiss her again.

  “If you need anything during the night …” he said, letting the sentence hang.

  She lifted her gaze to his and her eyes widened as she studied him. She took a step back, pressing herself against her door.

  Stupid bastard, Jarrod thought. She saw what he was thinking and didn’t want any part of him. He had to learn to hide his feelings better. He had gotten good at it with Dulcy. Now he was out of practice. Soon it wouldn’t matter. When he had his housekeeper, he wouldn’t see Abby Miller, at least not like this.

  He sighed and glanced down the hall at the light, then back to her. “If Katie bothers you and you want me to sit with her, just let me know.”

  “I’m sure she won’t. Just get some rest. So you can find your temper,” she said, smiling.

  “Yeah. I guess I’ve got to make it up to them.”

  “No. Just be honest. You were worried. You got angry. Because you care.”

  “You think they’ll understand that?”

  She lifted her brows in thought. “Probably. If not, buy them a licorice whip.”

  He grinned. “So you do think I have something to make up to them.”

  “No. I just think the way to their hearts is through candy.”

  “What about the way to your heart?”

  She looked down and took a big breath. “I already told you I’m not looking for that.”

  “I thought every woman was looking for that.”

  “Not this one.” She met his gaze then. “I think it’s time we said good night.”

  He nodded. “‘Night, Abby. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

  “Jarrod,” she said, turning the knob. She glanced back at him. “Whatever you do, don’t say that to Oliver.”

  He grinned. “I usually only make a mistake once.”

  She went into her room and he stared at the closed door.

  If he let her, Abby Miller could tempt him to make another mistake. He wouldn’t let her.

  The following morning, Abby got the girls ready and Jarrod did the same with the boys. Right after breakfast, Henrietta Schafer herded them into her cramped parlor. A gold brocade sofa and two matching wing-back chairs stood in the center of the room with various oak tables and accent pieces scattered throughout. She had been a good customer to the freight company.

  In front of the window that looked out on Main Street, all four of the children stood next to Abby, boys on her right, girls on her left. The two youngest each clung to her legs on their respective side. Jarrod was beside Tom, with his hand on the youngster’s shoulder. They all watched the young woman Henrietta had arranged for them to meet. Abby thought they seemed nervous, which was surprising. They had gone through this procedure enough times that she would expect it to be easy for them.

  The small woman made introductions. “Children, Abby, Jarrod, this is Nita Gibson. She’s Annie Shemanski’s cousin, here from Kansas to visit.”

  Jarrod nodded politely. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Likewise.”

  Abby guessed that Nita Gibson was in her early twenties. She was slim, blond, had big brown eyes, and was strikingly pretty. At least Abby thought so. She glanced at Jarrod and wanted to wipe the appreciative male smile off his face.

  She turned her gaze on the newcomer and saw her taking Jarrod’s measure as she batted the longest eyelashes Abby had ever seen on a body, man or woman. Apparently, Kansas ladies were susceptible to the Blackstone charm too.

  Nita Gibson was most definitely a lady, with her full dark green linen skirt, crisp white blouse trimmed with lace at neck and wrists, and a fashionable matching hat that dipped low on her smooth forehead, making her eyes look huge. She was a stunner, and Abby felt ill-dressed, plain, and dowdy by comparison.

  “So, Mr. Blackstone, I understand you’re looking for a housekeeper?” Nita asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. My sister passed away and I have her four youngsters to care for.”

  “I find it hard to believe a man like you isn’t married,” she said.

  “I was.”

  Nita’s gloved hand fluttered between them for a moment, then she place it on her chest, flustered. “Your wife passed away. I’m sorry. No one told me. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

  Jarrod shook his head. “No, ma’am. She’s still alive, far as I know. Things just didn’t work out.”

  “I’ve got chores to do in the kitchen,” Henrietta said. “Why don’t you folks sit down and visit awhile. Take all the time you need.”

  “Thanks, Hettie,” Jarrod said. “Appreciate you introducing us to Miss Gibson.”

  “Call me Nita, please.”

  Abby called after the smaller woman, “I’ll see you later, Henrietta.”

  Jarrod sat beside the woman on the sofa. “So, Nita, how long are you planning to stay in Hollister?”

  “Permanently. If I can find work.”

  Or a husband, Abby silently added.

  Lily cleared her throat. “It must be a lot different than Kansas.”

  Nita laughed. “Indeed it is.”

  “Are you sure you’ll like it enough to stay on?” Abby asked. “After all, it wouldn’t be good for the children to get used to you, then have you up and leave.”

  The blond toyed with the wisp of hair near her cheek as she looked at Jarrod. “I’d never do that to them. Children
need stability, especially after their loss. My condolences to you, Mr. Blackstone.”

  “Call me Jarrod.”

  “Thank you, Jarrod,” she answered shyly.

  Abby snapped a look at him. She had known him for years before he got that friendly with her. He’d just met this woman, and invited her to use his given name. He’d done the same with Bea. Only that hadn’t bothered her. She didn’t want to look too closely at why it did with Miss Nita Gibson.

  Abby released a big sigh. “Miss Gibson—”

  “Please call me Nita. And if I may call you Abby?”

  Abby nodded grudgingly. “The ranch is pretty far from town.”

  The woman laughed, a sweet, musical sound that grated on Abby’s nerves. “I’m a farm girl. Where I come from, the nearest town is several hours away. That’s nothing new for me.”

  “That’s good,” Jarrod said, standing. “Why don’t you spend a little time getting acquainted with the children?”

  “I’d like that. How about you?” she asked, looking at the four youngsters.

  They all nodded.

  Jarrod took Abby’s elbow. “C’mon with me to the mercantile. I’ll buy you a licorice whip.”

  They walked out onto the boardwalk, and the spring sunshine warmed Abby’s shoulders. Too bad it couldn’t reach the part inside her that was chilled, she thought. She pulled her hat down to shade her eyes. Beside her, Jarrod stared thoughtfully at the building where the children were.

  “What did you think of her?” he asked.

  “She seems like a lovely woman.” As much as Abby wanted to say otherwise, she couldn’t.

  “I thought so too. Wonder if she can read and write,” he mused.

  “When you grow up on a farm that far from town, it’s not likely there was a teacher anyplace nearby.”

  “Hmm. From the way she talks, she seems genteel and I’d guess she’s had some book learning. If not, I could always do some lessons with the kids in the evenings.”

  Abby’s eyes narrowed on him. “What about all the work you have on the ranch?”

  “Can’t do it after dark anyway.”

  “I thought you were too tired. All of a sudden you’ve got the time and the energy?”

  “If I don’t have to get up with Katie during the night, I’ll have plenty of energy.”

  Abby wanted to ask him plenty of energy for what, but held her tongue. “Katie slept straight through last night,” she said defensively.

  “Good. Maybe she’s beginning to get more comfortable here.”

  “At least with me.” Abby folded her arms over her chest and looked at him.

  A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he studied her. “Something eating you, Abby?”

  “‘Course not,” she said, a little too quickly.

  “I thought you said you liked Nita.”

  “For all I know of her, I do.”

  “You don’t seem very enthusiastic about her.”

  Abby shrugged. “You’re excited enough for the both of us.”

  With a knuckle, he pushed his hat back and stared down at her, hands on his hips. His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’ll be damned,” he said, shaking his head.

  “What? Why?”

  “You’re jealous.”

  She snorted. “You’re crazy.”

  “Nope. You’re jealous of Nita Gibson. I’m flattered.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

  “Then what’s bothering you, Abby? There’s not one good reason I can see not to hire her. Here and now,” he said.

  She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Can’t you tell when a female has something on her mind besides a job?”

  “You think she’s dishonest?” he asked. But Abby saw the look in his eyes and knew he was baiting her. She was jealous, and the fact that he knew it irritated her.

  “No, I don’t think she’s dishonest,” she snapped. “And why in the world you’d think I care whether or not the two of you make cow eyes at each other is beyond me.”

  “Then you have some doubts about her. I’d like to hear them. Not that you’ve ever been shy before about telling me what you think.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the boardinghouse behind them. Abby couldn’t help wishing that the kids had liked Bea Peters and she was already working for him. “Nita just seemed too prim and prissy to take care of four children. Even if she did grow up on a farm.”

  “How do you think the kids took to her?”

  Probably the way Jarrod had, like ducks to water, Abby thought. But she said, “I couldn’t really tell. They were pretty quiet. You never said what you thought of her.”

  “She seemed all right to me,” he said. A typical male understatement, given the way his eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see how the kids feel.”

  8

  Henrietta shot a glare at Bea Peters as they shared a piece of fresh corn bread in the boardinghouse kitchen. “Nita Gibson is a smart, sweet, lovely girl. How did you know those kids wouldn’t take to her?”

  Bea smiled that know-it-all look that made Henrietta so mad she could spit. “They have already decided to reject anyone but Abby. I saw that right away when I went out to the ranch.”

  “So why put Nita through that?”

  Bea laughed. “She knew all about it ahead of time and was delighted to play along.”

  “How come you didn’t see fit to tell me?” Henrietta was truly affronted now. Bea could tell a total stranger what was going on, but not her?

  “You and Jarrod are thick as thieves. I know you, Hen. You’re susceptible to his, shall we say, exceptional good looks.”

  “And you’re not?” the smaller woman shot back, not bothering to deny it.

  “I can’t imagine a woman still able to draw a breath not being susceptible. But since I’m old enough to be his”—she hesitated a moment—”very attractive older sister, I suppose I’m no exception.”

  Henrietta put her chin in her palm as she picked at the corn bread on her plate. “I’ve always thought if I were a foot taller—”

  “And twenty years younger—”

  “That too.” She heaved a big sigh. “My Clyde’s been gone ten years now. That’s a long time to warm a bed by yourself.”

  “Neither one of us is suitable marriage material for Jarrod Blackstone. We are straying from the topic, Hen,” Bea said in her best teacher’s voice.

  “You’re right. So the kids have decided ahead of time not to like anyone they meet?”

  “Precisely.”

  “How are they gonna convince Jarrod to hire Abby?”

  “Just about now, Lily is going to suggest it to him.”

  “And how is he gonna convince Abby to take the job?”

  Bea smiled. “I’ve put the word out. No one in Hollister will take that job. Desperation gives a man a silver tongue.”

  “I hope you’re right, Bea.” Henrietta shook her head. “Abby Miller is as stubborn as they come.”

  Jarrod stared at the four children sitting on the sofa in Hettie’s parlor. “What did you do to make her turn down the job?”

  “She didn’t take it?” Lily asked eagerly. Then she demurely folded her hands in her lap. “We didn’t do anything to her. Maybe she doesn’t like boys.”

  “How can you know that?” he asked.

  “Ask Tom and Oliver. They’re the ones who said it.”

  Jarrod turned his gaze on his nephews. “Well?”

  Tom glanced at Oliver and rolled his eyes when his younger brother popped his thumb in his mouth. He concluded that made him the spokesman for both of them.

  “It’s hard t’explain, Uncle Jarrod,” Tom said, squirming as he put his hands between his knees.

  “Try,” Jarrod said through gritted teeth.

  “It’s more of a feelin’ me ‘n’ Oliver got.”

  “What kind of feeling?”

  “The way she was dressed ‘
n’ all, so fine and ladylike. We just sorta think she don’t have any use for boys. Bet she doesn’t know nothin’ about horses.”

  “She could learn,” Jarrod said. “Horses and boys aren’t so different. I could talk to her again and try to change her mind. Girls? What about you? Do you think you’d feel comfortable with her?” he asked, looking at Katie.

  Her forehead wrinkled thoughtfully before she shook her head.

  “What do you think is wrong with her?”

  “She snorts when she laughs.”

  Jarrod let out a long steadying breath. He was trying real hard not to lose his temper again. “I thought she had a very nice laugh.”

  “You weren’t here the whole time.” Katie stuck her bottom lip out. She hadn’t missed the exasperation in his tone.

  He ran his hand through his hair. “You have met three very suitable ladies. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

  “There’s no problem, Uncle Jarrod.” Lily looked at him calmly. “At least nothing that Abby couldn’t handle.”

  Jarrod walked into the Hollister Freight office and looked around. Earl Whittemore sat behind a paper-cluttered desk in the corner of the room. Barrels, wooden crates, and odds and ends were scattered around the rest of the space.

  “Earl?”

  The company owner, a big man with a belly hanging over the waistband of his pants, looked up. “Well I’ll be. Jarrod Blackstone. What brings you in here? Don’t recollect an order for you.”

  Jarrod shook his head. “I’m not expecting anything. I came to see Abby. Is she here?”

  The other man gestured toward the rear of the building. “Out back. She took it into her head that the storage shed needed straightening. I never argue with Abby when she makes up her mind about somethin’.”

  “Is there ever a good time to argue with Abby?”

  Earl laughed and his belly shook like hotcake batter slapped on the griddle. With his thumb and forefinger he smoothed his thick mustache over his lip and down the sides of his mouth. “Got a point there, Jarrod. Still, I can’t hardly complain. Abby’s the best worker I ever had.”

  “She’s conscientious and stubborn. I’ll give her that.”

  “What’d you want to see her about?”