When she reached home, she left the buggy in her father’s hands and went directly to the kitchen. Sadie had always been good to her, even if she did sometimes cross the line between employee and employer. Why would she let Mara make such a fool of herself?
“Sadie!” Mara called long before she reached the kitchen. The heat of emotion had brought the flush of perspiration to her skin, making her even more upset. She burst through the kitchen door where Sadie was preparing their dinner.
“What is it, Mara?” the woman asked with infuriating calm.
“What is it? I’ll tell you what it is, Sadie Marshall! You let me go over there and make a complete ninny of myself—that’s what! You knew I’d set my cap for Clay Stedman, and you made the pie. Don’t tell me you didn’t know!”
“Mara, I don’t know what you’re—”
“He’s married and has a child to boot! Do you know how much time I wasted on my efforts today?” Mara paused to gather herself, realizing how unladylike she appeared. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.
“Clay Stedman’s not married, Mara. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
For the first time she wondered if she had it wrong. Maybe his wife was dead. “But the little girl—”
“Beth is his sister, Honey. Their folks passed on awhile back, and he’s taking care of her.”
Elation bubbled inside Mara, followed by the awkward feeling that she’d had a fit over nothing. She shrugged away the feeling. “She’s his sister? He’s not married? Are you sure?”
Sadie laughed. “Just as sure as shootin’, Mara. Clay’s come to take over the ranch now that his uncle’s gone. He’s not spoken for, and that’s the truth of it.”
Warmth flooded her limbs at her relief. She didn’t know why she felt so drawn to the man—yes, she did. Who wouldn’t be drawn to that tall, handsome, strong-looking man? He exuded confidence and power. She’d seen it in the way he handled the men around him at the dance. People were drawn to him, and he wasn’t afraid to lead.
“I see that look in your eyes,” Sadie said. “Don’t you be out to hurt him now. He’s a God-fearin’ man with a good heart, and I don’t want to see. . .”
Sadie continued, but Mara’s attention turned to her first words. God-fearing men went to church. God-fearing men wanted a God-fearing woman. Her lips curled into a smile. Tomorrow was Sunday, and suddenly she had the worst hankering for the gospel message.
Three
Mara suppressed a yawn. Why didn’t they open a window in here? The heat held the air stagnant as the preacher droned on for what seemed like hours. She had arrived early, taking care to find an empty pew in case Clay wanted to sit with her. But old Mr. and Mrs. Furly took the seats to her left, and Sara McClain plopped down on her other side! Sara with a squirming two year old who had put her slobber-covered hands all over Mara’s sleeve.
She straightened in the pew, trying to distance herself from the child. She didn’t know why Sara had been so friendly lately. Indeed she had no reason to be, the way Mara had tried to come between her and Nathan when Sara had come to town. But who could have blamed Mara for the disappointment she’d felt upon losing her beau to a lowly mail-order bride?
The preacher was going on about a vine. Bittersweet was the name of it. Though Mara hadn’t heard of it before, she could recognize from his description a vine she’d seen before. It was known for its beauty, with purple and white flowers and berries that turned bright red in late summer. The vine was beguiling but dangerous, the preacher said. Left unchecked it would take over a tree and strangle it.
When the preacher compared that attractive but deadly vine to sin in people’s lives, Mara squirmed in her seat and distracted herself by toying with her parasol.
The preacher caught her attention when he asked them to rise for a word of prayer. Finally! Her back ached from the impossibly hard pew. Hadn’t these people heard of upholstery?
She hoped to have an opportunity to speak with Clay afterward. He had come in with his sister and his aunt just before the service, leaving Mara with little choice but to wait.
“Amen.”
The final word sent a shot of relief through her. Why in the world anyone would sit through this misery every week—
“Would you like to join us up at the spring for dinner, Mara?” Sara asked.
Mara looked at her and felt a momentary pang of envy at her petite beauty. “No, thank you. Maybe some other time.” Like when it snows in July.
“Well, have a lovely afternoon.” Sara turned and began gathering her belongings while Mara cast a quick glance around the back of the room. He was going to leave, and she was stuck between people who seemed in no hurry to leave!
She had turned toward the Furlys, hoping they would acquire a sense of urgency, when she heard his voice behind her. She froze. Had he come to talk to her? But, no, he was speaking with Sara. Mara opened her reticule and pretended to rifle through it while she listened.
“And we really need someone to cook for the hands and look after Beth for the two months she’ll be gone,” Clay was saying.
“Your aunt mentioned it a couple of weeks back,” Sara said. “I’d be glad to pitch in, even keep Beth at our place while you’re working, but I’m afraid I can’t be away from our house right now. Hetty’s back went out on her, and she needs constant care.”
“I understand, Mrs. McClain. I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m still hoping to find someone to stay with Beth at our place. Can you think of anyone else I might ask?”
Me, me! Mara’s mind screamed.
“I can’t think of anyone right off hand, but let me give it some thought.”
Irritation flared like fireflies in her belly. Why didn’t Sara recommend her? She was standing right next to her.
“So I’ll see you in about an hour,” Sara was saying. “Don’t worry about bringing anything.”
He was going with them to the spring! This was her chance to spend time with him. Ideas danced about in her head. She would do more than spend time with him today. She would convince him to give her the job. She could figure out how to care for a little girl—after all, she used to be one. And as for the cooking, well, she would simply get Sadie to do it.
Sara’s family was leaving the pew, and Mara reached over to lay her hand on Sara. “I think I’ll join your family at the spring, after all.” She tried for a friendly smile.
Sara’s eyes widened. “Why, that would be wonderful, Mara. You don’t need to bring anything. I’ve cooked enough for an army.”
Cooking—another chance to impress Clay. “Nonsense. I’ll bring something—I insist.”
She made her farewells and dashed back to her house.
“Sadie!” Mara called out as she hurried toward the kitchen. She hoped the cook would be in the middle of fixing lunch.
Mara flung open the kitchen door to find Sadie setting a pot of green beans on the stove.
“How was the service?”
“Long and boring. Sadie, I need a dish to take on a picnic.” She browsed the array of foods being prepared and noted the sweet potatoes boiling on the stove top.
“You’re going on a picnic?”
Mara ignored the skeptical tone. It was true she wasn’t fond of the outdoors, what with the bugs and heat, but a woman had to make exceptions. She gestured to the potatoes. “Are those for your sweet potato casserole?”
“Well, yes, that’s what—”
“Splendid! That would be just the thing.” Everything Sadie made was wonderful, but that particular dish was a real treat. “When will it be ready?”
The taters will need to boil awhile yet, then I’ll add in all the fixin’s. I’d say forty-five minutes or so.”
“Perfect.” Mara turned to go.
“Why don’t you come back in a bit, and you can help make them? I’ll show you my secret ingredients.” She winked.
“Oh, I haven’t time. I need to change my gown.”
She hastened from the kitche
n and its heat before her hair wilted. Sadie wouldn’t have time to fuss with it, and Mara knew she couldn’t arrange it as Sadie did. She wondered what she should wear. Something stunning, yet not so hampering that she couldn’t play with the children. Especially Beth. Why, by the time Clay tasted the casserole and saw how good she was with the girl, he’d be begging her to take the job. And if he didn’t ask, she would simply offer.
Nearly an hour later Mara walked past the church and up the hill to the spring, her arms full. In one hand was the basket in which Sadie had placed the dish and, in the other, a dainty parasol. By the time she had climbed to the top of the hill, a fine sheen of perspiration filmed her skin. She stopped for a moment to rest. A part of her dreaded being in the company of Sara and Nathan McClain. It was awkward, what with their history, but Sara had been acting friendly lately, so she must not have hard feelings. Besides, it was Mara who had cause to be upset, the way Sara had come to town and snatched up the town’s most eligible bachelor.
She picked up the basket and set off again, placing Sara firmly in the back of her mind. That was in the past, and today she needed to concentrate on impressing Clay. She wondered if he’d tasted the pie yet.
She heard the squeals of the children long before she cleared the cedars and saw the group. Clay and Nathan stood talking by the water while Sara and Beth set out the food on two quilts.
Mara neared the picnic area. “Yoo-hoo!” She waved as the friends turned to welcome her.
“I’m so glad you could come, Mara. It was nice having you in church this morning.”
Mara retrieved the casserole from the basket and set it with the other food. A familiar-looking apple pie lay off to the side.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Sara said. “I declare, between you and Clay, we have enough food to last a week. He told me you made the pie. It looks scrumptious.”
So it was her pie. Well, no matter. She settled on the blanket, holding her parasol carefully over her head. Clay and Nathan approached, and Mara realized her mistake. She shouldn’t be sitting idle; she must show Clay what a hard worker she could be. She quickly turned and helped Sara set out the food.
Moments later they sat down to eat, and Mara nearly made another error when she lifted her fork before the prayer. Glancing around, she saw no one had noticed.
After the prayer the men ate the meal with relish while Sara cut up food for her little girl. She watched Beth gulp down her food and made a mental note to teach the child table manners.
“Oh, Mara, these sweet potatoes are delicious!” Sara said.
Mara felt a surge of satisfaction. “Thank you.” She attempted a humble smile while the men seconded Sara’s opinion.
Mara asked Clay about his hometown while everyone finished eating. He seemed more relaxed today than he had the evening before. Maybe he was succumbing to her charms.
Sara cut the pie, and Mara helped serve. She watched Clay take his first bite.
“Mmm, this is right tasty, Miss Lawton.”
She felt a warm flush spread over her cheeks. “Thank you. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” Mara’s grandmother, Sadie’s grandmother—what difference did it make?
“I had no idea you were such an accomplished cook,” Sara said. “What gives the pie that nice tangy flavor?”
Mara’s fork paused on her plate. She took her time chewing the bite, stalling for an answer. Then she remembered seeing Sadie make the pie once. “I squeezed a bit of lemon juice over the pie before I laid the lattice crust.”
Mara knew Sara was aware they had a cook. She wondered if Sara was suspicious. A glance at her face revealed nothing but friendliness.
When they finished eating, Mara helped Sara put away the leftovers while the men discussed roundups and birthing calves. Mara shuddered at the thought. When she’d finished her work, she was sorely tempted to stay and work her charms on Clay. But just then Beth announced she was going to look for tadpoles, and Mara stood. “I’ll go with you.” She tried for an eager tone.
Taking her parasol, Mara traipsed behind Beth along the bank of the water in silence. Beth removed her shoes and stockings. What did one talk about with a young girl?
“How old are you, Beth?”
“Almost nine.”
“How do you like Cedar Springs?”
“There’s one!” Beth waded into the shallow water, soaking her skirts up to her knees. She reached into the water with both hands, but the tadpole flitted away.
They moved on down the shore, making conversation as they went. The girl was rather sweet, even if she did behave in an unladylike manner. Mara could fix that in two months easily.
She kept Beth company while the girl frolicked in the water, keeping an eye on Clay as they rounded the spring to the other side. Between the food she had supposedly made and her efforts with the girl, Clay was sure to be impressed. Even though he sometimes seemed taken by her beauty, she sensed a certain aloofness in his manner. She wasn’t sure why he was, but she hoped she could get beyond that cool façade.
By the time the two had made their way back to the group, Beth had taken Mara’s hand, a sweet gesture that only helped Mara’s cause.
Later, after lingering near Clay, Mara realized it hadn’t occurred to him to offer her the job. No matter. She would simply volunteer to help as soon as she found the right time.
Her opportunity came moments later when Clay led his horse to the spring for a drink. She followed him, her face warming with the excitement of the challenge. From behind, his broad shoulders and narrow waist set her heart racing. When he turned, the sun silhouetted his profile, and his dark skin and hair reminded her of an Indian. She thrilled at the wild thought. Despite her mother’s hatred of Indians, Mara had always found their wild, primitive ways fascinating.
Her parasol held high above her head, she waded through the tall grass toward him. Clay was everything a woman wanted in a man. Strong, handsome, confident. She would get this job and convince him she was the answer to his prayers, in every sense of the word.
Four
Clay led Barnus to the water and turned to stroke his brown coat. He hadn’t known when he had accepted Sara’s invitation that Mara would be coming—he probably wouldn’t be here if he had. She was comely—there was no doubt about that—but he couldn’t let loose of the idea that she was just like Victoria. The way she used a parasol, the way she batted her long lashes—even the way she held her little finger out when she took a bite of bread.
That’s why he was so surprised to see her take an interest in Beth. Pampered women like Victoria didn’t cotton much to kids. They were only out for themselves. Why had it taken so long for him to see that?
“That’s a fine-looking horse you have there.”
He turned as Mara approached, her fancy dress caught up in one hand. “He gets me where I need to go.”
“Your sister is a sweet little thing. I so enjoyed her company today.”
He met her gaze, skepticism rising up in him. He was good at reading people—always had been. Either she was a good liar, or she meant what she’d said. “She’s had a hard time of it, but she’s coming around.”
Out of the corner of his eye he watched her smooth out her gown. Lands’ sake! It must be hotter’n anything under all those layers. Maybe having all that skin exposed at the neckline made up for it. Not that he’d noticed.
“I couldn’t help but overhear when you were speaking with Sara earlier.”
She paused as if waiting for him to nudge her on, but he remained silent. That was another little trait of Victoria’s that had irritated him.
“It so happens I’m available for the next two months, and I’d be ever so happy to help out.”
He looked at her then. Was she joshing? An overindulged lady like her looking out for a child? Cooking for fourteen men? Scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees? A picture formed in his head, and he tried to hold back the laughter that bubbled in his chest. It came out sounding like a snort, and he t
ried to keep the mirth from his lips.
Her perfect little mouth fell open, and she sucked in her breath. “You’re laughing at me.” Her back straightened, and her tiny chin tilted up.
He tried to collect himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just—” Another picture flashed in his mind—of Mara trying to run wet clothes through a wringer and hold her parasol too. Laughter barreled through his chest and out his mouth. This time there was no stopping it.
“Well!”
“I’m sorry—I don’t mean—” He couldn’t seem to get a full sentence out around his laughter. He tried to imagine Victoria doing the day-to-day chores his aunt did. Why, he’d guess Mara didn’t own one practical dress, much less—
“Would you like to explain what you find so funny?” Her voice quivered with anger. She turned to see if the others heard his laughter. She lowered her voice. “I was offering to help. How dare you mock me.” Her eyes flashed with indignation, and her perfect lips had begun to form a not-so-attractive pout.
He sobered then. Regardless of his opinion of Mara he was not behaving as a Christian. He cleared his throat, letting his laughter die. “I’m sorry. You’re right. But I don’t think you know what you’d be getting into. You’d need to cook, not just for us, but for fourteen hands.”
“I can cook just fine, Mr. Stedman. Why, you’ve tasted two samples of my culinary abilities already.”
He had forgotten about that. The pie and sweet potato dish were pretty tasty. Still, there was the matter of caring for Beth and doing the house chores. He couldn’t see it happening.
“Miss Lawton, come look!” Beth called from the side of the spring.
Clay watched Mara’s face soften. “Just a minute—I’ll be right there.” She watched Beth play, the indignation falling from her face.
Clay wondered if he’d misjudged Mara after all. He was sure Victoria wouldn’t have set foot in the kitchen, much less been able to turn out mouth-watering dishes. And she had never taken an interest in Beth or any other child. In fact, she’d often remarked about the inconvenience of having children underfoot.
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