by Anna Zogg
“Just do your work. And keep your big bazoo shut.” He turned, then swiveled back around. “Another thing—don’t be gettin’ all cozy with the boss or his niece. You mind your place.” He emphasized his words with a finger jabbing the air. “Or someday you’ll wake up and find your head lying next to you.”
Though Rhett remained silent, he made a point to not break eye contact. He kept his shoulders relaxed and arms loose at his side, not giving the foreman a reason to see him as a threat.
Bartow’s lip curled as he apparently made up his mind about something. “Humph.” He turned and strode away.
After the foreman reached the yard, two men immediately came alongside him—like they were his personal guards. With interest, Rhett studied them.
One had a predominantly crooked nose. The other had a white streak in his hair, visible under a worn hat. From the shady interior of the building, Rhett took note of their features, determined to steer clear of all three of them. However, he reminded himself not to jump to conclusions about the Double M Ranch no matter how he felt, especially about the foreman.
Rhett glanced around at his quarters. The space appeared to have housed hay at one time. Above, some boards rested on beams. Up there, he might find a safer and more comfortable place to sleep. He climbed up and settled his bedroll. Later he would add some straw. This arrangement would suit him just fine.
Sitting in the cramped space with his head brushing the rafters, he contemplated his new life. Suspicion, he was used to. For years, he and his mother had wandered from town to town—always viewed as strangers. He’d grown accustomed to feeling like an outsider. But something about Bartow went beyond that. His earlier display of friendliness had been a show, obviously to impress Ellie.
Instinct told Rhett to leave. However, concern for his new friend gained the upper hand. Guy Bartow’s pointed attention toward her seemed almost sinister. The foreman wasn’t merely seeking to curry favor.
Raising his face, Rhett crossed his legs. “What would you have me do, Father God?”
He already knew the answer. Stay. If nothing else, he needed to discharge his promise to Ellie.
No, he admitted to himself, this went much further than merely keeping a promise.
He considered. In the rough west, she appeared a rare flower amid a tangle of weeds—one that must be sheltered. Protected. Rhett could not rid himself of the feeling that he needed to watch over her.
For so many years, he’d felt directionless. He took whatever work he could find, but he had no home, no real purpose. Until now. Watching over Ellie felt like what he was meant to do.
In the meantime, he would do nothing to embarrass her. After all, she had put herself out when she vouched for him. Because of that, Rhett vowed to labor harder than any other worker on the ranch to win over William Marshall.
And, perhaps, to win over Ellie?
Chapter Five
Ellie stood in the middle of the bedroom and surveyed her trunks and bags, neatly stacked beside one wall. They would have to wait to be unpacked. She ached to crawl onto the fluffy bed with a colorful patchwork quilt of blues, greens and yellows. However, she didn’t want to take time to rest. Not just yet.
Assuming I would sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, images and sounds from the stagecoach accident tormented her. Even now, her heart thumped uncomfortably. She shook off the feeling. Perhaps the horrid memories would fade in time.
When Ellie emerged from her room, she found only the housekeeper inside the great room, setting the long table. More than a dozen tin plates lined the surface while the smell of food permeated the house.
“Mrs. Johnson, is my uncle around?”
“On the porch.” Continuing to work, she indicated the door with a tilt of her head. The woman seemed wholly intent on her task.
Ellie watched a moment longer before going outside.
“Ah, there you are.” Her uncle arose from the log bench, arms spread to hug her. Then he peered down at her. “Did you find everything to your liking?”
“Yes. The bedroom is beautiful. And so spacious.” She took a seat on the bench.
Her uncle had filled the space with keepsakes from a bygone era. A second, connected room boasted of a bathing area with a potbelly stove. She didn’t tell him both the bathtub and washstand were archaic compared to what she was used to. The comparison would merely distress him. Long before she’d traveled to the wilds of Wyoming Territory, Ellie had determined to be content with the lanterns and fireplaces as well as the lack of other modern conveniences she was used to. Those weren’t as important as being with her uncle and having the chance to begin a new life.
He patted her hand. “How do you like the bathing room?”
“It’s amazing.”
“Glad you like it.”
“I didn’t see another bedroom in the house—just a doorway to the kitchen area. Where do you sleep?”
“That’s my place.” He pointed to a small cabin a short distance away. “On the other side of the house are cabins for the Johnsons and Guy. The rest of the men sleep in the bunkhouse. We’ve got barns, stables, outbuildings. We only gather at the main house for meals, otherwise it’s all yours.”
“Really?” Then a sneaking suspicion came to her. “Did you move out for me?”
“Nah, did that a long time ago.” He scratched his chin with his thumbnail. “Guess maybe I’ve been hoping you’d settle here someday.”
Settle? Her heart soared to hear him say that. In their many correspondences over the last five months, Ellie had not been certain if her uncle wanted her to remain on the ranch. But would he change his mind when he learned what she wanted to occupy her time while she lived here? She intended to use her medical skills, to be a help to Uncle Will and neighboring ranchers.
But perhaps that subject was best left for another time. He might need to warm up to the idea.
Turning away, he coughed before again focusing his attention on her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for my brother’s funeral. How was it?”
“Very beautiful. So many people came to pay their respects.” Ellie couldn’t help shivering at the memory of the closed casket. “And, I’ll say it again, you wouldn’t have arrived in time. Father’s accident made it imperative we bury him immediately.”
Though she’d not seen his mangled corpse, the report alone gave her nightmares. One significant detail had been missing—how intoxicated her father likely had been when he had stepped in front of the heavy-laden wagon.
“And your father’s estate?” Uncle Will’s gentle voice drew her back. “All settled now?”
Estate? A sound of derision escaped her.
After the creditors had taken their share, not much remained. Although not penniless, she could not have afforded to keep the grand Chicago house, even if she’d wanted to. For several years, Father had managed to hide his true financial condition by closing down part of the house, letting staff go and borrowing money. Upon his death, all had been revealed. Once upon a time, Ellie believed he wanted her to work alongside him in his medical practice because he appreciated her. Eventually she understood he desired her help because he didn’t have to pay her a wage.
She managed to speak in an even tone. “It’s done. I have nothing—and no one—in Chicago.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. “That means you’re stuck with me.”
His eyes appeared to glitter more brightly. “I’m more than happy to be stuck with you.”
“We’ll see.” Ellie straightened. “Because the first thing I need to know is who tended to your ankle.”
“Cookie patched me up.”
Cookie? Her uncle must be referring to the elderly man who had stood with Mrs. Johnson when she’d arrived. “But he’s the cook, isn’t he? Not a qualified medical practitioner.”
Uncle Will laughed out loud. “I know they us
e those highfalutin words in Chicago, but you don’t need them out here.”
“I’d like to take a look.”
“Nah.” He stretched his leg out before him. “Though I appreciate the offer.”
Before she could insist, the sound of a man clearing his throat interrupted. Mr. Bartow stood at the bottom of the porch, sweeping off his hat and nodding at them. “Boss. Miss Elinor.”
“Call her Ellie,” her uncle said before she could respond. “You don’t mind, do you, Sunshine?”
A little. But she gave him a tight smile. “If that’s what you want Mr. Bartow to call me.”
“And you should definitely call him Guy.” Her uncle rose. “If the men heard you say ‘Mr. Bartow’ they might get ideas about you two.”
Flames scorched her cheeks, especially when Guy guffawed.
Her uncle gripped the column of the porch. “Whatcha need, Guy?”
“I jes’ came by to tell you the new hire is settled. Got him a nice, cozy place.”
“Good. Good.” Her uncle gave one stiff jerk of a nod. “You go over the rules with him?”
“Yessir. We’ll keep him in line.”
Ellie studied the two men, disliking the shift in tone.
When Guy caught her look, he straightened, expression softening. “Have no fear, Ellie. I’ll make sure he feels right at home.”
She managed a small smile, then jumped when a loud clanging sounded nearby.
Guy laughed. “Jes’ the supper bell.” He leaped up the stairs and held out his arm. “May I?”
Ellie slipped her hand through her uncle’s arm. “I already have an escort, thank you.”
Hazel eyes twinkling, Uncle Will beamed at her. “Sorry, Guy. Maybe next time.”
She tried not to stiffen at the implication of next time. Instead, she squeezed her uncle’s arm. “With you as my partner, no other man has a chance.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You learn that line from one of those Chicago dandies?”
“Mmm-hmm. From the very best.” Ellie didn’t add that they were a worthless lot. Many of them seemed more worried about their boots than her. Not like...
She caught her breath at the memory of sky-blue eyes, watching her from across a bonfire. Rhett had known she was afraid—and he forfeited his sleep to watch over her and the Rushtons all night. What kind of person would do that for a friend, much less a stranger? Not only that, but he had endangered himself by securing the gelding because she had asked.
Rhett is like no other man I’ve ever met.
“Ellie?” Uncle Will ducked his head.
She shook herself. “Yes?”
“I asked if you were ready to go in.”
“Of course.”
As her uncle led her into the house, her thoughts again strayed to Rhett. She couldn’t help but be thrilled that he’d accepted the job offer, despite her uncle’s unfriendliness. She hoped Rhett would soon settle in and prove what a fine man he was. In no time, her uncle’s attitude toward him would soften.
And with Rhett nearby, she would see him on a regular basis.
Strangely, her heart thumped in anticipation.
* * *
“And most important,” Uncle Will announced as they finished supper, “this is my niece, Ellie, from Chicago. Treat her with respect. The Marshall blood runs through her veins, so watch out or she’ll put you in your place.”
Though several men chuckled, Ellie detected the cautious look many threw her direction. She returned their smiles but remained uncertain if her uncle’s comment contained more warning than jest.
Uncle Will held up one hand, recapturing everyone’s attention as he sat at the head of the table. “And to celebrate her arrival, the Johnsons prepared a special treat.”
That announcement elicited applause and whistles as the housekeeper carried in gargantuan servings of cake. Fighting a growing weariness, Ellie merely nibbled at her dessert. The day had been overly long and her body protested many hours of travel—not to mention the bumps and bruises from the stagecoach accident. Her head began to pound at the relentless, raucous laughter and loud voices.
Perhaps the fact that Rhett wasn’t there further unsettled her. Since their arrival a couple hours ago, she’d not seen him. He hadn’t made an appearance for supper. Where was he?
She pressed her fingers to her uncle’s arm. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to unpack a little before it gets much later. Please excuse me.”
“Of course.” He rose when she did, pulling out her chair so she could move away from the table.
All of a sudden, the sound of scraping chairs and benches filled the room as men shot to their feet. Ellie pressed her lips together at the complete bewilderment on some of their faces as they followed their boss’s example.
She gave a little nod as she spoke to the assembly. “Thank you for your warm welcome. I look forward to getting to know you better in the future.”
“I know I speak for all the men,” Guy was quick to reply as he hooked a thumb in his belt, “when I say we’re pleased to have ya here. And we look forward to getting to know you too.”
His tone seemed to contain only sincerity, so why did her cheeks burn? Perhaps it had something to do with the crook in one eyebrow and smug smile.
Or was it because her uncle’s eyes gleamed as he glanced between the two of them?
* * *
Stomach cramping with hunger, Rhett peered around the shed’s opening as a number of men left the main house. In the distance, he caught the sounds of a harmonica, men talking, the clink of money. Inside the bunkhouse, the lights of lanterns glowed while shadows moved behind curtained windows. He turned his attention back to the house in time to see the ranch owner and foreman. They walked across the yard, Marshall limping as they talked in low voices. An older, wiry man shut a side door to the house. Cookie? He wandered to a small building between the large ranch house and bunkhouse.
Where was Ellie? Earlier Rhett had heard men chatting as they ate their meal. Occasionally the sound of her laughter had caressed his ears. Now the building lay quiet. Lights sprang up inside but after a while, he perceived no noise coming from the interior. He headed to the nearby pump and washed up.
With caution, he mounted the porch steps and peered inside through the open door. Only an elderly woman remained in the room, clearing dishes from a sideboard. Even though he’d made no sound, some instinct caused her to look up.
“There you are.” She pointed to a lone dish loaded with food. “Eat.”
“Thanks.” He grabbed the tin plate and prepared to head back out.
“No, ya don’t,” she scolded. “Eat in here. I don’t wanna hafta chase down that plate.”
Grinning, he slid onto the long bench. After a silent prayer of thanks, he dove into the generous portions of meat and beans with a slice of bread. He washed down the food with a cup of lukewarm coffee that was so thick a spoon might stand up in it. Although the woman continued to clean up, he was aware of the several glances she shot his way.
He pushed the empty plate away and stretched his back.
“More?” The woman pointed to a doorway, leading to the lean-to. “We’ve plenty.”
“Please. Everything’s delicious.”
She dished another plateful of meat and beans. When she returned with a hunk of bread and then refilled his cup, she added, “Nice to serve someone with manners.”
“Thanks” and “please” were all he needed to say to be considered mannerly? Hiding his smile, he ducked his head as he ate.
The woman continued to watch him. “I’ve heard about you. From some folks ’round here.”
Focusing on the food, he grunted in acknowledgment. The less he said, the better.
“Cookie—he’s my man—says you go by Rhett?”
He nodded as he kept eating.
“Hu
h.” Her eyes narrowed. “I once knowed a man by the name of Everett. Kinda looked like you. Funny that your names are similar.”
Pretending ignorance, he shrugged.
Had she really known his father? The woman’s age proved she would have been an adult when the Walker Gang was most active. However, wisdom said to keep his mouth shut.
“Same jawline. Same blue eyes. I never forget a face.” She paused before adding, “You related?”
Plate empty, Rhett reached for the piece of bread, willing his hand to remain steady.
“No matter.” Leaning a hand on the table, she whispered, “I know who you really are.”
Rhett drew in a slow breath. If true, what was she going to do with her knowledge?
Before he could speak, the door across the room swung open. The old woman drew back, then picked up the empty plate.
“Rhett!” Ellie stood in the open doorway.
A frothy white dress, edged with fine lace, had replaced her dark violet traveling attire. Her loose hair flowed over delicate shoulders. Once again, the picture of a rare flower blossomed in his mind.
She drew closer, a smile lighting her face. “I was just unpacking. Where’ve you been?”
Trying not to stare, he finished his coffee. “Getting settled.”
“Oh.” Confusion flitted across her features. Doubtless, she was trying to understand how putting away a bedroll and saddle could take so much of his time. “You missed a wonderful supper.”
“I ate just now. Thanks.”
Her gaze shot to the woman across the room. “Mrs. Johnson, is there any cake left?”
The housekeeper shook her head.
“That’s too bad.” Ellie slid onto a seat across from him. “I wish I’d saved you my piece.”
She rested her forearms on the table, gaze again sidling to the older woman. Was Ellie uncomfortable speaking to him in front of someone else?