Farmer's Daughter Romance Collection : Five Historical Romances Homegrown in the American Heartland (9781630586164)

by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May

  “It’ll never work.” Rosalind flopped down in the barn’s fresh, fragrant hayloft. Isaac had walked Marlene over. The two girls had finagled permission to snatch some leisure time, since they saw each other far less often now.

  “Sure it will!” Marlene settled in next to her. “It feels as though we’ve hardly even seen each other in the past fortnight! Both our families have watched us with eagle eyes since the railroad men started lurking around.”

  “Wi’ good reason. Some seem like good men, but others give me an uneasy feeling,” Rosalind admitted. “Besides, it won’t last forever. The railroad will hae to keep steaming along eventually.”

  “Do you really want it to take all the eligible young men away with it?” Marlene sat up straight. “Our very first opportunity to make new friends and meet men who aren’t our neighbors, and it’s all but snatched from us!”

  “I’m not going to do it.” Rosalind sifted a few smaller pieces of hay between her fingers. “I won’t say I’m going to meet wi’ you while you say you’ll meet wi’ me and we both hie off to find adventure. No matter how you try to justify it, ’tis dishonest and unsafe.”

  “You’re right. Besides,” Marlene huffed as she settled back into the hay, “we’d be found out before long, even if I could actually tell an untruth like it was nothing.”

  “If nothing worse happened,” Rosalind reminded her best friend, glad to see her letting go of the rash idea. Usually they saw eye to eye despite their three-year age difference, but occasionally, Marlene’s youthful exuberance got the better of her. “Although, I’ve had a few thoughts of my own….”

  “Do tell!”

  “There is one way I can think of that will allow us to be useful, see each other regularly, and spend a bit of time with the railroad men in a protected setting.” Rosalind paused until her friend nudged her arm.

  “Out with it, Rose. You can’t keep me waiting up here forever, and we need to work out the entire plan!”

  “Our fathers wouldn’t argue if we took in laundry and mending to earn some money. We’re of the age where we’ll be setting up our own homes soon.” Rosalind shared a conspiratorial glance with Marlene. “Or if that idea doesn’t tickle your fancy, I should think we could talk a few of our family men into making some rough picnic tables for us to run an outdoor café. We could use the summer oven and an open fire to make home-cooked meals for all those bachelors.”

  “That,” Marlene sighed, “is surely the most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard you say, Rosalind MacLean. No one could possibly object to such a worthwhile—and profitable—endeavor!”

  “And I prefer almost any chore over laundry,” Rosalind added.

  “Me, too. I love the feel of clean clothes and sheets, but it’s such monotonous, long, hot work, no matter what the season. Soap making is almost as bad.” Marlene grimaced, then seemed to realize she’d gotten away from the important topic. “We’ll have to convince our parents that we’ll finish our own chores. How do we manage that?”

  “We’ll still milk the cows, gather the eggs, and help wi’ breakfast in the morning. If we suggest that everyone eat the dinner we make, our mothers won’t have to make any.” Rosalind spoke the thoughts aloud as they came into her head. “We’ll still help wi’ supper and do our sewing in the evenings at the hearth. I suppose that leaves doing the weekly laundry on Saturday as the big problem. We could close down that day and the Lord’s day—and only run the outdoor diner five days a week.”

  “Five days a week sounds good to me.” Marlene gave a sly smile. “The men we’re interested in will come to Sunday meeting anyway.”

  “Exactly.” Rosalind let Marlene think she was simply bored and boy-crazy. No one needs to know that I’ll be saving the money I earn so I can travel on that railroad someday.

  “Let’s go talk to Aunt Kaitlin now!” Marlene scrambled down the ladder in record time, looking up at Rosalind expectantly.

  “You can’t seem overly excited,” Rosalind cautioned as she descended the ladder. “If you’re too eager, they’ll think it a whim and shut us down before we even open. We hae to present it in just the right way—thoughtfully and reasonably. Show them we’re aware of the responsibility we’ll be taking on and we’re ready for it.”

  “When did you get so wise, Rose?” Marlene smiled and linked arms with her. “First, we convince your mother, then my mother. With them on our side, our fathers will surely consent!”

  “That’s the plan.” Rosalind smoothed her hair back. “Men are the heads of the household, but women are the hearts, and every sensible person on earth knows which of the two is stronger.”

  Chapter 5

  Hae they gone daft?” Ewan rubbed his eyes but found no relief. “Do you see that? Tables and benches they’ve set up o’er near a summer kitchen?”

  “I see it.” Johnny didn’t sound as though he disliked the sight at all.

  “They’re not planning on selling dinner. Surely they know better.” Ewan thumped a moonstruck Johnny on the upper arm. Johnny’s eyes still followed the little blond’s every movement.

  “I’m afraid not.” Arthur’s voice, heavy with misgiving, sounded behind them.

  “I aim to be first in line,” Johnny planned aloud, receiving glares for his enthusiastic support of the womenfolk.

  “How did this come t’ be?” Ewan struggled to maintain a calm demeanor. Did I not speak wi’ the man scarce three days past about keepin’ the townswomen clear o’ the workmen? This’ll set the cats about the pigeons before I can so much as blink!

  “ ’Tis the honest truth, I’m not all too certain.” Arthur’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “I came home to find my favorite meal on the table, and Rosey talking about how she wanted to contribute to the growth of the community, and my sweet Kaitlin sayin’ as how ’twas a good opportunity for the girls to learn the value of hard work in a business setting.”

  “And you said ’twas a foolish idea?” Ewan felt a sort of sinking in the region of his stomach at the older man’s sheepish look.

  “I said I’d hae to think on the matter, and the next thing I knew, Kaitlin left the table and came back with a fresh rhubarb pie and the sweetest smile you ever did see.” He gave a rueful grin. “The next thing I know, I’m making benches.”

  “Good man,” Johnny approved over Ewan’s groan. “If I could say so, sir, I think you made a very wise choice. Excellent.”

  “We’ll see.” Ewan tried to think positively. Lord, is there any possibility You could make the men so distracted by good, homemade food that they’ll ignore any other…attractions? He glanced over to where Rosalind and—what was her name? Arleen?—spoke animatedly, creamy cheeks flushed with excitement and effort.

  Lord, I can see I’m coming to the right place for help. ’Tis gonna take nothing short of a miracle.

  Refusing to dwell on it, Ewan worked so single-mindedly that the morning all but flew by. He’d just set down a pair of tongs when Johnny yanked his arm and practically dragged him over to the table nearest the makeshift kitchen. Left without a choice, Ewan plunked down.

  The rich, hickory smell of that pot of pork and beans doesn’t tempt me in the slightest. Those steaming trays of sweet golden corn bread aren’t enticing in the least. I’m here only because ’twould be rude to leave.

  Ewan kept a litany of protective statements running through his mind, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t pleased as punch to be the first man sitting at the table, with Rosalind smiling at him and ladling out a hearty serving of beans.

  “Smells wonderful,” he praised. “Such a clever idea to set up an outdoor diner where you’ll have customers in droves.” Fool. And to think, I thought less of Arthur for giving his blessing. At least the man had a wife and daughter trying to convince him, and he made it all the way to dessert! I haven’t even taken my first bite.

  Determined to stop himself before he said anything else, Ewan filled his mouth with pork and beans. Mmm. Meaty, filling, slightly sweet, and perfectly
cooked. He closed his eyes and took another bite before he realized Rosalind and the other girl were watching him and Johnny expectantly.

  “Good,” Johnny grunted, making short work of his bowl and slathering a piece of corn bread with butter. “Best thing I’ve tasted in months.”

  The girls’ faces lit up at the verdict before they turned to hear Ewan’s opinion.

  “Best pork ’n beans I’ve ever had,” he admitted. Rosalind practically beamed at his compliment, and Ewan accepted the truth. When Rosalind MacLean set her mind to something, whether it be her father’s permission, a thriving business, or his own grudging approval, she found a way to get it. If he wasn’t so busy savoring his piece of corn bread, Ewan just might have to think about how disturbing that was. He took a second piece, just for good measure.

  “Well then, I think we’re ready to open.” With that, the blond girl rang the dinner bell loud and clear. Hungry workers came sniffing around in hopes of some good food. They were delighted to find it in plentiful supply. Word spread quickly, and soon the benches at the table creaked with the weight of satisfied customers.

  Ewan’s good mood evaporated as he took stock of the hungry eyes following the girls’ progress around the tables. A few watched the saucy sway of Rosalind’s skirt with more interest than they showed the food she placed before them. The only thing that helped Ewan’s uneasiness was the knowledge that the girls’ fathers were keeping close guard on the situation.

  When the men finished clearing every morsel, they exited en masse, leaving soiled tables full of dirty dishes and corn bread crumbs in their wake. Even the girls’ families left without offering to pitch in. Ewan frowned to see the amount of work the girls had before them. They looked anything but upset.

  “We did it!” The girls chorused as they hugged.

  “We might even need to make more tomorrow, just in case the men tell a few of their friends,” Rosalind added.

  “Word will spread,” Johnny broke in. “Tomorrow will be a mad rush to get a spot at one of your tables. You’ll be turning customers away in droves before you know it.”

  “It’d be a good idea to have your fathers and brothers—men you trust—overseeing a table each to make sure no fights break out.” If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. “Things could get ugly if you’re not careful.”

  “We hadn’t thought of that.” The blond—Marlene, Johnny had told him—showed signs of worry on her pretty young face.

  “Dustin, Da, Isaac…I don’t think Brent is formidable enough to control a group of grown men, and Luke certainly can’t. That’s only three, and we have five tables.” Rosalind bit her lower lip. She looked so delicate. Ewan knew he was sunk when she turned her brilliant blue eyes toward him with a speculative gleam. “Would you and Johnny consider helping us out in return for your dinner five times a week?”

  “Absolutely!” Johnny grinned at Marlene. “Anything we can do to help, you just let us know. We’ll take care of it.”

  “I’d be glad to pitch in.” Ewan looked down at Rosalind. “And I’d still be more than willing to pay for your cooking. ’Tis worth far more than the asking price as is.”

  “You’ll not pay for a meal at these tables, Mr. Gailbraith,” Rosalind declared, unknowingly giving him a reminder that he had no right to be thinking of her as “Rosalind.” She was Miss MacLean to him, and that was how things should be.

  “I’ll not argue the point, Miss MacLean.” He gave her a polite smile. “At the moment, my stomach is far too full for me to gainsay you.”

  “Perfect.” She clasped her hands together and turned to her friend. “Marlene, we did it. Everything worked out!”

  As Ewan and Johnny walked back toward the forge, the afternoon’s work stretching ahead of them, Ewan couldn’t hold back one last doubt. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.

  “I never thought I’d see the day when I saw the use of your mother’s o’erpacking, Marlene.” Rosalind set aside another clean plate. “Wi’out all these dishes, we’d be in a pickle.”

  “Be sure you tell her that last part.” Marlene swished another one through the clean water. “It’ll make her feel even better about helping convince Father to agree to this venture.”

  “I did fear Da might take back his agreement when he saw that bunch of hungry men swarming all around our new benches.” Rosalind massaged the small of her back for a leisurely moment before returning to the task at hand. “Praise the Lord all went well today. Had the slightest thing gone wrong, that would hae been the end of it.”

  “Well, it’s only the beginning”—Marlene scrubbed a particularly stubborn splotch of dried food—“which means we have plans to make and supplies to purchase before long.”

  “Aye. We should start by deciding what we’ll be cooking for the rest of the week.” Rosalind paused to consider what would be simplest to make in vast quantities. “Maybe shepherd’s pie?”

  “Agreed. Why don’t we make it a policy to have some kind of soup or stew as the main dish every other day?” Marlene pushed back a few straggling locks of her golden hair. “With enough variety, the men won’t complain. It’s the simplest thing to make for so many…and hearty enough for working men.”

  “Let me think a moment.” Rosalind ticked off types of stew and soup. “There’s Irish, corn, and beef stew, and potato, parsnip, and split pea soup…. If we add a pork bone to Scotch broth, that will serve. Along wi’ pork ’n beans, Welsh rarebit, and biscuits with gravy, we’ll hae enough simple recipes to see us through.”

  “Exactly.” Marlene rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “We’ll need to stock up on all the vegetables we can buy and see about having the men slaughter another hog to keep us in provisions. We’ll need cornmeal for johnnycake, flour for biscuits and bread…. How soon do you think we can persuade one of the menfolk to take us to the general store?”

  “Soon, I hope, though we’ve already asked for their help at the tables every dinner. ’Tis glad I am to have enlisted the aid of Mr. Gailbraith and his friend. They’ll help smooth things along.”

  “Johnny,” Marlene murmured absently, dreamily swirling her finger in the sandy pebbles lining the brook.

  “What?” Rosalind turned a gimlet eye on her friend. “When did you become familiar enough wi’ the man to call him by his Christian name? Surely you hae not given him leave to address you so.”

  “I should say not.” Marlene snapped back to attention. “He calls me Miss Freimont as is right and proper, but he invited me to call him Johnny. I haven’t done so to his face,” she added hastily at the warning glint in Rosalind’s eyes.

  “See that you don’t. Mam says a young miss can’t be too careful around strange men, no matter how affable they appear. Using each others’ first name signifies a familiarity inappropriate between the two of you.” Her warning delivered, Rosalind sank back on her heels and admitted, “Though I’ve had to remind myself of the same thing when I think on Mr. Gailbraith.”

  “Ooh!” Marlene squealed and abandoned the dishes altogether. “I knew it. I just knew it! You haven’t so much as cast an interested glance at any other railroad worker.”

  “That’s simply untrue.” Rosalind grinned. “I gave that one man an interested glance when he claimed he owned the entire railroad.”

  “That’s not the type of interest I’m meaning, and you know it, Rose.” Marlene shook her head. “I meant the kind of interest that makes a woman’s eyes widen and her knees go weak.”

  “Sounds to me as though such a hapless woman wouldn’t withstand a terrible fright.”

  “You know what I mean.” Marlene shot her friend an exasperated glance. “The type of feeling that makes you want to call Mr. Gailbraith by his first name.”

  “Rubbish.” Rosalind waved the notion aside. “ ’Tis only that ‘Ewan’ seems to suit him far better than his surname.”

  “And you’re in a position to know such things since when? Best come out with it, Rose. You’ve seen the handsome blacksmith quite often
since he began working near your father. Don’t pretend you haven’t looked forward to seeing him around and perhaps exchanging a friendly greeting.”

  “I—” The intended denial stuck fast in Rose’s throat. If I were to be honest, I do look forward to Ewan’s—Mr. Gailbrath’s—warm smile and cheery wave. Could his resemblance to Da while working over the forge be the only reason, or had a different sort of fondness crept into her heart over the past week?

  “Aha!”

  Rosalind realized her awkward pause had not escaped her friend’s notice.

  “I thought as much,” Marlene crowed, sobering quickly when Luke popped into sight. “Luke’s coming.” She welcomed Luke brightly. “Come to lend a hand, have you? Well, we’ve plenty enough dishes to tote back and pack inside the crates.” She leaned back toward Rosalind to give a whisper. “Don’t think that this conversation is over, Rose!”

  I was afraid of that.

  Chapter 6

  Ewan strove mightily to attend to his work, focusing on the iron he’d heated to a glowing red and now manipulated into the proper shape. Trouble was, he couldn’t help but notice Rosalind MacLean, along with Luke and their blond friend whom Johnny seemed to have taken a shine to, riding past his forge in a buckboard and then heading into the small mercantile.

  ’Tis early in the morning. You’ve no call to be letting your mind wander from your work, Ewan Gailbraith. He sternly forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand and finished reshaping the implement before cooling it in the tempering bath.

  A fine job, if I do say so myself. He gave a mighty stretch and glanced toward the general store. ’Tis no quick trip for a peppermint whim. The lasses hae been in there a goodly amount of time. Perhaps they’re browsing as women are apt to do.

  He looked to his next task. ’Twould take the better part of the morning to repair the broken wheel. Montana Central needed an official wheelwright to repair the wagons that carried loads of supplies away from the train cars and to the more remote areas where workers cleared the land and made ways through forest and rock. As it was, the work fell on his shoulders. He found it useful to know many skills, but he’d learned an unpleasant truth. The more kinds of work a railroad man was able to do, the more he’d be called upon to do. Whether he’d been hired on to do the task wasn’t a big part of the equation.