Mike bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his wife’s pale cheek. “Thank you, Charlotte.” He blinked suspiciously bright eyes. “I’ve hired a new housekeeper.” Megan and Mike exchanged an unspoken communication of raised eyebrows and grimaces at his declaration. Before Charlotte could query about this housekeeper, Mike plowed on. “I don’t mean to put you to work. If you could keep Megan company, I would be grateful. She hates staying in bed.”
“That I do, for certain sure. It’s only a little while longer and the bairn will be joining us.” She heaved a sigh. “Your company will be such a help.” A tear ran in a single trail down her cheek.
“None of that,” Charlotte scolded her. She wiped the tear from her friend’s face.
Megan looked into the field and then at her husband. “Don’t you have a ball game to win?”
He laughed. “Ethan, take your horse to the barn and come help me whup the other team. They’re getting mighty big for their britches.” He leaned over for one last kiss before jumping from the porch to the ground.
She would stay to help Megan with the birth. By then she would have the information she needed, and she would move on. Her father would come looking for her. As sure as the sun rose in the morning. As sure as the sky was blue. As sure as not one of those children could catch the ball that sailed in a long arc over their heads.
He would come.
Chapter 2
Charlotte
The sun sank below the horizon in a blazing ball of orange.
The last family-filled wagon had creaked on down the road. The final wail of the violin had vibrated through the Texas air. The concluding dance step had been called.
“You should head for town soon, Ethan.” Megan’s voice held nagging worry.
Ethan chuckled. “I appreciate your concern, but Charlie and I can find our way home in the dark.”
He turned toward Charlotte. “You said you don’t know how to ride. A body needs to know how to ride out here on the range. I’d be happy to teach you. If you’d like to learn, that is.” He rubbed his hand up and down on the side of his pants.
“He’s right, Charlotte.” Megan’s head popped up from her husband’s shoulder. “Riding would give you more freedom, too. You don’t want to be…”
Mike and Ethan straightened their spines and cast disapproving looks at Megan. “Megan, Charlotte will not be allowed out of sight of the house for some time. Not until she can both ride and shoot. You remember the rules. This is a dangerous country for a woman,” Mike scolded.
Megan nodded and dropped her head back to its former resting place. “Men here are a mite protective and a little bossy,” she said, and yawned. “But he’s right.”
“I don’t want to cause any trouble, but I would like to learn to ride. And shoot, I suppose.” Charlotte looked at Ethan. “Thank you for the offer. I accept.”
“I’ll come by tomorrow about four, and we’ll have our first lesson. I have a deputy now, and he can work alone until the saloon heats up late in the night.” Ethan stood and turned his hat around in his hands. “That was a mighty fine party. Thank you.”
“Stay for dinner after your ride tomorrow, Ethan. There’s always a chair at our table for you,” Mike said. He settled Megan in the swing before joining the sheriff. “Come on. I’ll help you saddle up.” The darkness swallowed the two men until only the faint sound of their voices floated back on the still air.
“Let me help you up to bed.” Charlotte pulled Megan to her feet and placed her arm around her back. “Outhouse, first?”
Megan frowned. “Michael insists I use the chamber pot, but since I’m already up and downstairs, I don’t see how it can hurt.” Charlotte held Megan close as she lumbered down the stairs and around to the back of the house. She admired the Texas night as she waited for her friend. A sky of twinkling stars set against a deep velvet sky stretched miles and miles and miles overhead. So clear. So bright. So sharp. Boston was a city of mist and clouds and foghorns. A city of ships slipping in and out of the fog like ghosts on the prowl. She never imagined being anywhere else. Her father was in Boston, after all, and she never imagined a life away from him.
“Is Megan in there?” Mike appeared beside her and motioned at the little building.
“She is. She didn’t think you’d mind,” Charlotte said, defending her friend’s decision.
“It’s fine. I’ll help her from here.” He glanced at the closed door. “Ethan’s bringing your bag with him tomorrow. Are you settled into Skip’s room?”
“I am. Thank you. Who’s Skip?” Charlotte asked.
Mike’s laugh was low and rough. “My cousin. He married and left here about eight years ago, but we still call it Skip’s room.” He paused. “But when we have more children, we’ll need it. He’s never coming back anyway.” His voice held concern and a sprinkle of sadness. “Megan decorated my old room for our first little cowboy.”
“Or cowgirl,” Charlotte added.
“Right. Or cowgirl.” He tapped on the door. “I’m right here, darlin’. No hurry.”
“Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.” Charlotte turned to leave.
Mike’s voice called her back. “I’m out with the sunrise, so I’ll be gone when you girls wake up. The new housekeeper should arrive mid-morning. Can you rustle up some breakfast for the two of you?”
“I can. Thank you.” Charlotte made her way into the house and up the stairs to what she now thought of as Skip’s room. The plaid blanket and plain furnishings spoke clearly of a boy’s tastes.
Lupe had laid a soft shirt of Mike’s on the bed for her to use as a nightgown. She was far too large for Megan’s things. Stripped down to her heavily boned corset, she surveyed her clothes. They were too fancy, too frilled, too stuffy, too stiff. What did a lady wear to ride a horse? Whatever it was, she was certain she didn’t own it.
Slow footsteps and low voices floated up the stairs as Mike helped Megan to bed. She was happy for her friend. She deserved this life and her confident, handsome husband.
She slipped beneath Skip’s plaid blanket and fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. Streams of bright morning light aimed through her window put an end to the best night’s rest she’d had since she fled her father’s home. Throwing her feet over the edge of the bed, she rose and went to check on her friend.
Megan lay in bed. Her head rested on a plump pillow. Her feet formed a little bump at the bottom of the bed. In between, a mountain of blanket rose to majestic heights over a pregnant belly of impressive proportions.
“Good morning, Megan.” Charlotte moved to the head of the bed. She couldn’t see Megan’s face over that tremendous mound.
“Can you help me up? I need to use the chamber pot.” A thin arm emerged from beneath the covers.
“Of course.” Charlotte pulled her to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Jaysus, Mary and Joseph,” Megan spoke with fervent fever. “If I get any bigger, Michael can harpoon me for a whale.” She gave a mirthless laugh. Charlotte helped her to the chamber pot and turned her back while Megan attended to her business.
“Thank you, Charlotte. Could you prop a few pillows behind my back? I’d like to sit up, so we can talk proper-like.” The two women tugged and shifted until Megan heaved a sigh. “I think that’s the best we can do. I don’t mind telling you, I will be glad once this child is born.”
“What would you like for breakfast?” Charlotte asked.
“Toast and tea would do me.” Megan frowned. “Well, Michael will think that’s not enough. Maybe an egg, too. That man’s always after me to eat more.”
“You are eating for two.” Charlotte patted her hand. “I’ll dress and be back with some food.”
Charlotte returned with a breakfast tray. “Here’s your tea with a little sugar just the way you like it. I put marmalade on the toast and scrambled some eggs.” The two women ate in companionable silence until Charlotte told Megan, “Lupe and Manuel have left. Their wagon is gone.”
Megan nodded. “I knew they would leave early.” She blinked back a tear. “Lupe has been such a good friend to me. She taught me to cook some of Michael’s favorite foods and helped me understand the men who live out here in the west. This is a tough country, and a good man wants to keep his family safe.” Megan took her friend’s hand. “Before Lupe, you were my only friend. Now I have two. A lucky girl I am for certain sure.”
“What does a woman wear to ride a horse?” asked Charlotte. The question had nagged at her mind all morning.
Megan took a close look at her friend’s clothes. “These clothes will never do. They are confining and heavy. It will stay hot here for two or three more months, and you will roast alive in those clothes. To ride, you will need a split skirt. It looks like a skirt from the front and back, but it has legs like pants.”
“Can I get clothes at the Mercantile?”
“Yes, and we have a dressmaker. But Michael bought me a sewing machine that works with a treadle. The stitches appear like magic. It’s such fun, and I have a trunk of fabric. We can make some clothes and buy some in town, too. It will give me something to think about besides when the baby will come.” She pointed at a chest beneath the window. “Go look and see if you like any of the fabric.”
Charlotte pulled out the pieces of material. She finally found a dark green corduroy, perfect for riding. There was a yellow muslin with white polka dots for a shirt, black cotton for a vest and a pale purple for a skirt.
“Merciful heavens,” Charlotte exclaimed. “It’s nearly time for dinner. Was your housekeeper coming this morning? If she’s late, I can fix something. Will Michael come in for dinner?”
“He will,” Megan paused. “I think I should warn you about the housekeeper.”
“Warn me?” Charlotte’s eyebrows rose in question.
“It’s a bit of a long story.” She patted the side of the bed and Charlotte lowered herself to the mattress beside Megan. “Let me start with the brothers. Michael has four brothers working for him. The Taylor brothers. Nice boys they are, too, even if we did get off to a rough start with them.”
“A rough start?”
“Well, they were rustling cattle, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. You see, Michael’s uncle who used to own this ranch, the Circle M, was a greedy old bastard. Those are Michael’s words, not mine, so take that frown off your face.” Megan swatted her friend on the arm and laughed. “He drove folks off their land and was none too gentle about it. The Taylor family was one of those he scared off. When their parents died, the boys decided it was only fair for them to take back the same number of cattle that Mike’s Uncle Ray had taken from their father. They started reclaiming, as they called it, these cattle. Now, the law would have called it rustling pure and simple. To make a long story short, Michael told them to bring his cattle back and leave or they could work at half pay for two years. At the end of that time, they would own the cattle.”
“That was very generous,” Charlotte conceded.
“It was. He didn’t want them to hang. But there’s more. He said he would also give them back the one hundred sixty acres his uncle had stolen from them.” Megan nodded in vigorous approval, then finished telling Charlotte the story. “The boys have worked hard at rebuilding the house and barn on their old property. Mike’s right proud of them, he is. In about four months they’ll have earned their cattle and will go work their own ranch. It’s called the Bar T, and the boys have the sign and branding iron ready to go.”
“That’s a lovely story, but what does it have to do with the housekeeper?” Confusion was writ plain on Charlotte’s lovely face.
“Yes, well. There’s a girl in town by the name of Sally Ann Murphy, Sally Ann Taylor now. When I arrived, she was mad at me and green with jealousy. It seems she had her heart set on being the mistress of this ranch. Michael didn’t think she really cared for him, and he didn’t have feelings for her, but she was angry as a wet hen when I appeared out of nowhere and married Michael. She even knocked me down at a dance one night, but it all got sorted.” Megan stopped to consider that long-ago night. “She and the brothers had been friends before the Taylor family were run off, and they got reacquainted when the boys settled down and began working for Michael.” Her cheeks blushed pink. “Well, she and Bill, that’s the oldest brother, got more than a little friendly. They married last week.” Megan lowered her voice to a whisper. “She’s in the family way.”
Charlotte’s hand flew to her throat. “They anticipated their vows?”
A deep voice rumbled from the door, “Out here we’re more likely to say Bill put the horse before the cart or tried to close the barn door after the horse was loose, or Sally Ann’s daddy had a shotgun and a shell with Bill’s name on it.” He slapped his hand on the side of his jeans. “You two were so tied up talking you didn’t hear me climb the stairs.” Mike strode over to the bed. “How are you, darlin’?”
“Good. I’m good. It’s a pure pleasure to have Charlotte to talk to.” She exchanged a light kiss with her husband.
Mike continued the story. “With Lupe and Manuel headed for Mexico, Megan and I offered Bill and Sally Ann the use of their house. In exchange, Sally Ann would cook dinner and supper, do our laundry, and keep the house tidy. I’ll eat breakfast with the hands in the bunkhouse, and Ben, the cowboy’s cook, will pack dinners when we can’t come in. It’s far less than Lupe did, but it seemed fair for an inexperienced new bride. When the four months are up, and the Taylor brothers move to the Bar T, we’ll find a new housekeeper.” He brushed his knuckles over his wife’s freckled cheek. “But Sally Ann is a handful—prideful and stubborn. I hope we don’t regret our offer. I guess it depends on if Bill can take her in hand.”
“Take her in hand?” Charlotte queried.
“I’ll explain another time,” Megan replied. Michael raised an eyebrow.
“I’m hoping for the best, but she was supposed to be here in time to make our dinner. We’re not off to a good start.” Michael did not look happy. His mouth was one long line of disappointment.
Charlotte stood up and brushed her skirts until they swirled flat and smooth. “Why don’t you keep Megan company. I’ll go make some sandwiches.” She left the room in a swish of heavy taffeta and returned bearing a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of tea.
Mike took his sandwich and headed out the door. “I’ll talk to Bill and find out when to expect Sally Ann.” He looked at Charlotte. His face flushed red with embarrassed chagrin. “I hate to ask you this, but if Sally Ann isn’t here by later today, can you rustle up an easy supper?”
“Of course. It’s not a problem.” Charlotte said, and smiled at the disgruntled man.
He paused at the threshold. “What are you ladies up to this afternoon?”
Megan pointed at the pile of fabric lying on the top of the chest. “I want to help Charlotte make some lighter clothes. She’ll do the sewing, but I can measure and do a little handwork while I’m in bed. It will make the time pass much more quickly.”
Mike hesitated before saying, “You know what doc and Marcie told us. You need to stay in bed except to use the chamber pot.” Megan flinched at the mention of that hated pot. “But if you can help Charlotte and stay in bed, I wish you luck.” He turned to leave again when he stopped and fixed his wife with a stare to make grown men tremble. “Don’t forget to take your nap. Doctor’s orders, wife.” He waited until Megan nodded her understanding before taking his final departure.
Megan and Charlotte measured and cut and basted the afternoon away. When Megan’s eyes began to droop and her head nestled into her pillows, she lay down for the prescribed nap.
“You sleep now. I’ll see what I can put together for supper.” Charlotte tiptoed out of the room and closed the door with a quiet click. Once in the kitchen, she considered the larder. She had spent a fair amount of time in the kitchen of her father’s house. Besides Megan, Cook had been her only friend.
Ethan was coming at four to begin riding lessons, so she would ne
ed to make a quick supper when they finished. She assembled slices of ham, chopped potatoes and onions to fry and brought in bright red, ripe tomatoes from the garden next to the house. Supper wouldn’t be fancy, but she would make sure there was plenty. The men would be hungry after working hard all day.
If she were home, her father and the men she saw returning from her lofty window after a day at work would look as crisp and clean as they had when they’d trooped past in the morning. Sitting behind desks all day was easy work, at least physically. She knew that in other parts of Boston, factories spewed black smoke into the air and workers, even women and children, slaved long hours. Her father and his friends scorned these people: the ones who used their bodies in industry. She had been told, and told, and told, how lucky she was. Well-fed and cared for as she was in her ivory tower.
She admired Mike who rose at sunrise every day to build a ranch and provide for all the people dependent upon him. And Ethan who spent each day protecting the people of the town and the surrounding ranches, risking his own safety in the effort. They were worthy of admiration and not the disrespect of men who only valued efforts that left one clean, comfortable, and wealthy at end of day. Besides, that lovely second floor room with its view of lush Boston greenery had not been intended for protection. She hadn’t known, but it had been her own private prison. She wiped at the moisture gathered in her eyes.
The truth hurt.
It surely did.
Chapter 3
Ethan
Ethan pulled his horse to a stop, swung his long legs to the ground in one easy sweep, and wrapped the reins around the porch rail. He’d looked forward to this moment all day. The moment when he could rest his eyes on the girl with mahogany hair and a figure as lush as his mama’s strawberry patch. He wiped his hands on the side of his pants and removed his hat.
Treasured: Lonestar Love, Book Two Page 2