Back in her room, she closed the door firmly and leaned against it. Then, remembering the perforated rain barrel and the mangled weather vane, she tugged the chair over to the door and propped it underneath the doorknob. Moving over to the window, she folded her arms and leaned on the sill.
Flying cows? She raised the window all the way to the top of the frame. Talk of levitating livestock was enough to make people question Martha’s sanity, but the ranch woman seemed convinced an intruder had been skulking about.
Had someone really been lurking outside? Resting her arms on the sill, Lucy held her breath, listening for any hint of stealthy movement. All she heard was the creak of the windmill and the soft lowing of cattle.
Climbing back into her rumpled bed, she curled up under the sheet. Martha might be looking forward to untroubled slumber, but Lucy fully expected a long, wakeful night. She rolled onto her side and punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape.
At least the night’s episode had removed one worry. There was no longer any question of telling Andrew his aunt’s mind was clear. Martha undeniably needed someone to keep an eye on her, so Lucy’s place at the Diamond S was assured.
But with cows jumping over the moon and Martha unleashing shotgun blasts at invisible marauders in the middle of the night, the question now was whether Lucy could survive her stay there.
Chapter 5
Andrew waved good-bye to Harvey Duncan and slapped the reins against the horses’ rumps, setting the buckboard back toward North Fork at a good clip. Half an hour later, he pulled back on the reins when he came to a fork in the dusty road. The Diamond S lay only a few miles out of his way. He might as well make a slight detour and see how Aunt Martha and her new companion were getting along. He guided the horses to the right and headed for the ranch.
He’d seen the look of panic on Lucy Benson’s face when he announced his departure three days before. That, coupled with Aunt Martha’s irritation at having unwanted company foisted upon her, made him feel guilty about leaving so abruptly.
Maybe he hadn’t made things as clear as he should have . . . to either of them. He’d honestly thought he and Aunt Martha had come to an agreement about the need for someone to stay there with her—but she obviously hadn’t seen it that way. Hopefully, three days spent in each other’s company had given the women a chance to work things out.
He checked the position of the sun and shook the reins. If he hurried a bit, he could make it to the ranch house in time for dinner. With any luck, Aunt Martha might have made one of her mouthwatering peach pies.
Andrew noted Carson Murphy’s dun gelding tied to the hitching rail when he pulled up in front of the house. Wrapping the reins around the brake handle, he hopped down and trotted up the front steps.
Lucy answered his knock, wearing a faded calico apron over her pale blue dress. Her hair, pulled into a loose coil at the back of her neck, bore little resemblance to the fussy style she’d worn the day she arrived. With her sleeves rolled up halfway to her elbows and her forearms streaked with traces of flour, she looked the very picture of domestic life. The notion sent an unexpected surge of warmth through him.
A flush tinted her cheeks when she saw him. “Won’t you come in?” She stepped aside so he could hang his hat on the peg near the door. “It seems today is our day for visitors. Mr. Murphy stopped by a little while ago.”
Andrew followed along as she led the way into the parlor, where Aunt Martha and the neighboring rancher were getting to their feet.
Aunt Martha looked toward the doorway when he approached. “You always did have a good sense of timing. We just invited Carson to stay for dinner. From the way you’re grinning, I expect we ought to set another place.” She nodded at Lucy, who scurried off toward the kitchen while the rest of them made their way to the oak dining table.
Andrew watched Lucy carry another place setting to the table. He held her chair for her and smiled at her as he took his seat. “Did you do the cooking today?”
A muffled snort came from Aunt Martha’s direction. He shot her a puzzled glance, then looked back at Lucy, whose cheeks had turned pink again.
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook . . . yet. But your aunt says she’s going to teach me.”
Aunt Martha threw back her head and laughed aloud. “‘Not much’ is right. Would you believe she managed to burn the tea the first night she was here?”
Murphy snickered and smothered a grin.
“Burned the . . .” Andrew glanced back at Lucy, whose face had gone from pink to brick red, and decided not to pursue the matter.
“But she’s a quick learner,” Aunt Martha added. “I’m sure she’ll get the hang of things before long.”
“I will,” Lucy said with a determined tilt to her chin that Andrew found utterly endearing.
They loaded their plates with roast beef, mashed potatoes, and creamed peas. Andrew forked in a mouthful of the beef and closed his eyes. “Mmm. Delicious as always, Aunt Martha. Nobody makes a pot roast like you.”
Aunt Martha beamed. “What brings you out this way, Andrew?”
“Harvey Duncan’s windmill needed a new part, so I took it out and put it on for him. Since I was out this way already, I thought I’d swing over here on my way back to town and see how the two of you are getting along.”
Aunt Martha laid down her fork. “I hate to admit it, but it’s been right pleasant having company around. Lucy fits in just fine, and everything’s going smoothly . . . except for that little set-to we had the other night.”
Andrew choked on his potatoes. “What happened?”
“Another one of those floatin’ cows on the night of the full moon. This time I heard somebody skulking around over by the barn. There must’ve been two of ’em, because I heard someone else scrambling around on the roof.”
The succulent pot roast felt like a lead weight in Andrew’s stomach. “What did you do?”
His aunt shrugged as if she were discussing nothing more exciting than her recipe for peach pie. “I let off a couple of blasts from my shotgun. Haven’t had a lick of trouble since.”
Andrew’s fork slipped from his fingers and clanked against his plate. He stared back and forth between the two women.
Lucy focused on her plate, apparently absorbed in slicing her pot roast into small bites.
Andrew cleared his throat to catch her attention. “Did you see any sign of these intruders, Lucy?”
She took her time swallowing, dabbing her mouth with her napkin before meeting his eyes. “I was upstairs. I only came down after I heard the shouting . . . and the shooting.” Her gaze slid away. “There wasn’t anyone around by the time I joined your aunt.”
Andrew glanced back at Murphy, who shook his head and offered a sympathetic smile.
Aunt Martha looked up as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “Carson stopped by to talk about fencing off several areas of the ranch into big pastures. That way he can rotate the grazing. He’s already done it on his place with good results, so I told him I’m willing to give it a try.”
Murphy began describing the project to Andrew, and talk continued along those lines until Lucy went to the kitchen and brought out a peach pie for dessert. Andrew’s mouth watered. As he raised the first bite to his lips, a knock sounded on the front door.
Lucy set her napkin down and went to answer it. She returned almost at once with two cowboys in tow. “These gentlemen say they’ve come to see Mr. Murphy.”
“Jasper!” Andrew got to his feet and shook hands with the wiry cowpuncher who had ridden for the Diamond S during Andrew’s growing-up years, then went to work at Murphy’s Two Bar M after Aunt Martha sold the cattle. He gave a nod to Jasper’s companion, Curly, another of Murphy’s riders.
Jasper wrung his hand. “Good to see you, Andrew. I’ve been hearin’ good things about those windmills of yours.”
“Glad to hear it,” Andrew said, feeling a glow of pride. He gestured toward Lucy. “This is Lucy Benson. She’s co
me to stay with Aunt Martha. Lucy, these are Jasper and Curly, two of Murphy’s cowboys.”
Jasper beamed. “Glad to hear you’ll be stayin’ around, miss. You sure do brighten up the scenery.” Turning to Murphy, he said, “We checked out that draw over to the west. Looks like we’re gonna need more fencing than we thought. Maybe as much as a wagonload.”
“That sounds like my cue to head for town and pick up more supplies.” Murphy thanked Aunt Martha and Lucy for dinner, nodded to Andrew, and went on his way.
The cowboys lingered. Jasper hooked his thumbs in his belt and assumed a feigned innocence that wouldn’t have fooled a child. “Is that peach pie I smell?”
Martha smirked. “You know good and well it is. You also know I always make extra, in case someone drops by. Go help yourselves.”
A few minutes later, Lucy looked out the window and laughed. “Look at those two! They’re out there with huge slabs of pie, and there’s a cow nosing at Jasper’s slice.”
“A red cow with a big white splotch across her shoulders?” Aunt Martha chuckled. “That’s Maybelle. You’ll see her around here a lot. Her mama died when Maybelle was born, so we brought her indoors and fed her from a bottle. She’s more like a pet dog than a cow.”
She yawned and pushed her chair away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go upstairs and lie down for a spell.”
Lucy rose and began collecting their dishes. Andrew stood and cleared his place, earning himself a grateful look. Taking his cue, he picked up Murphy’s plate, as well, and followed her to the kitchen.
Lucy stacked the plates on the counter, then lifted the kettle from the back burner and poured steaming water into the wash pan. She shaved a few pieces of soap into the water and began scrubbing the plates.
Andrew spotted an apron hanging over the back of a nearby chair and tied it around his waist, bringing a giggle from Lucy. He poured hot water into the rinse pan and accepted the clean plate she handed him.
“It sounds like your business is doing well,” she said.
“It is.” He dipped the plate in the rinse water and polished it with a dish towel. “Even better than I dared to hope. If word keeps getting around about the improvements a steady source of water can bring, I’ll have more business than I can handle.”
Lucy’s blue eyes sparkled as she passed him another plate. “So progress comes to west Texas?”
“It does indeed. And more than just windmills are in our future. Have you heard about Edison’s electrical wonders at the exposition in Chicago this summer? Before long, there will be electric lights in every home across the country. A new century is right around the corner, and the possibilities are nearly endless! I can’t wait to be a part of it all.”
Catching himself, he gave a sheepish laugh. “Forgive me. I get a little wound up when I think about what the future holds.”
“No, I think it’s wonderful! Listening to you, I could easily get caught up in it myself.”
With an effort, Andrew tore his gaze away from her shining face and cleared his throat. “Changes are coming fast. That’s for sure.” He glanced up toward the second floor. “Speaking of changes, I can’t remember Aunt Martha ever sleeping in the middle of the day before.”
“She’s been tired lately. I expect that’s the result of sitting up half the night to watch for intruders.” Her voice trailed off and she fell silent.
“You really didn’t hear anything?”
Lucy handed him a saucer without meeting his eyes. “What I heard was that shotgun. It scared me to death! At first I thought somebody was attacking the house.”
“But now?”
“I can’t say they weren’t here, but I didn’t see anyone.” Lucy ducked her head and scoured away at a serving bowl. “I want to believe her—I know she believes someone was there. I really like her, you know. Underneath that gruff exterior, she’s a very caring person.”
Andrew’s stomach knotted. Despite his decision to bring in a companion for his aunt, he had hoped he’d been wrong in his assessment of her mental state. “When she first told me about these ‘cows,’ she said it was just like the nursery rhyme, where the cow jumped over the moon. I assumed it was some sort of hallucination—I never thought she’d let off that shotgun with you around. If this is going to escalate, I don’t want to put you at risk. Do you feel like you’re in any danger?”
“Maybe a little that first night.” Lucy offered a weak laugh. “But since then, we’ve gotten along fine.”
“I’ll make it a point to stop by more often.” He only hoped that would be enough to assuage his conscience. “I do feel a lot better knowing she has someone out here keeping an eye on her.”
“There’s only been that one incident since I’ve been here,” Lucy said. “Maybe all she needed was someone to talk to and get her mind off these imaginary intruders. And I enjoy her company, too. I’m glad I came.” She handed the serving bowl to Andrew. When he reached out to take it from her, their fingers touched. The tingle he felt could have powered one of Edison’s electrical gadgets.
Lucy’s eyes widened, and Andrew felt like he could stare into those pools of cornflower blue forever. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I am, too.”
Yes indeed. He would definitely be stopping by more often.
Chapter 6
Lucy set a recently laid egg in the basket she held over her arm and reached back into the nest, probing for more. While she checked the other nests, her thoughts went back to her conversation with Andrew the week before. There had been no further instances of mysterious goings-on in the night. Maybe they’d been right in their conclusion that Martha was lonely and needed a bit of company to set her mind at ease.
She put one last egg in her basket and looked down at the chickens, pecking away at the cracked corn she’d spread out for them. A swell of pride swept through her. Two weeks ago, who would have guessed that she, Lucy Benson, could feed chickens or gather eggs? On top of that, Martha had shown her how to bake a pie, pluck a chicken, and clean the ranch house. She was feeling more domestic by the day.
Andrew rode into the ranch yard just before noon. Lucy went out to meet him, marveling that the already sunny morning seemed to have brightened even more.
She grinned at him as he swung down from the saddle. “You’re early. Dinner won’t be ready for another hour or so.”
“Good. I was hoping for a chance to talk to you.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and Lucy caught her breath. “Have you gotten to see anything of the ranch yet, besides the house and outbuildings?”
“Not really. I’ve been so focused on learning things in the kitchen, I haven’t had a chance to go exploring. Why?”
Andrew pointed toward the top of the nearest hill. “You can see one of my favorite views from right over there. Care to take a look?”
Lucy calculated for a moment. Dinner was in the oven, and she didn’t really need to do a thing for the next half hour. She looked up at him and smiled. “Why not?”
A light breeze fanned her face as they walked up the hill side, matching strides. At the top of the rise, Andrew turned toward the northeast and swept out his arm. “Look at that. Those plains just seem to go on forever . . . rolling along like a vast ocean.”
Lucy’s lips parted as she stared at the majestic sight.
“Over there,” he continued, pointing off to their left. “Do you see that rock wall sparkling in the sunlight? Just below that is a ravine with a creek running through it. The dark line of trees beyond it shows where the creek meanders out across the prairie.”
Lucy heard the warmth in his voice and caught the emotion behind it.
“There are miles of country like this in west Texas,” he went on. “Imagine what it could be like with water enough to support more grazing. With enough windmills out here, we could triple—maybe quadruple—the number of cattle the ranches could sustain.”
His excitement was contagious, and Lucy’s heart quickened. “I can se
e why you love it. And why your aunt has enjoyed living here so long. Speaking of your aunt . . . there have been no further incidents, and we’ve been getting along splendidly. I’ve already learned a lot from her. In fact, the meal you’ll be eating today is one I cooked myself.” She slanted a teasing look at him. “Assuming you’ll still want to stay and eat after hearing that.”
A grin tugged at Andrew’s lips. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
This time it wasn’t talk of windmills that made Lucy’s heart beat faster. When he turned to look out over the vast expanse again, she took advantage of the opportunity to study his strong profile.
“You couldn’t learn cooking from a better—” The words died on his lips when he swung back around and caught her staring. He held her gaze, his eyes darkening.
Lucy couldn’t move. Her heart tripled its pace, and she felt her throat go dry.
Andrew raised his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch of his fingers sent a shiver of excitement through her, and her knees threatened to buckle.
With an effort, she looked away and cleared her throat. “We’d better get back down to the house. I need to check on dinner.”
A week later, Lucy settled into her rocking chair with a grateful sigh and poured cups of chamomile tea for herself and Martha. It felt good to get off her feet after such a busy day. But it had been a rewarding one, as well. She smiled to herself at the memory of the way Andrew had praised her pot roast after he’d “just happened” to stop by for dinner . . . again. After he left she’d put the kitchen to rights while Martha went upstairs for a brief nap, then the rest of the afternoon had been spent with Martha giving Lucy a lesson in bread making.
By the time the loaves came out of the oven, it was time for evening chores, followed by a cup of tea on the porch as the stars came out.
“You’re a quick learner,” Martha said. “I have to admit when I first saw you standing on the porch in that prissy dress, I didn’t think there was any way you’d be such a help around here.”
A Match Made in Texas Page 20