He rode right up to the back door of the house and tied his horse to the limb of a tree nearby.
Opening the back door, he ran into the kitchen where he heard voices. There he found his baby daughter sitting in a high chair, babbling away and banging her fist on the tray.
“Just a minute, sweetie,” Debra called over her shoulder. She set a plate of scrambled eggs on the table in front of Andy and gave Betsy a bottle.
Andy leaned forward and whispered something John couldn’t hear, but he gathered the little boy mentioned his presence because Debra’s gaze flew to him. “John? Is something wrong?”
As if hearing his name alerted Betsy, she began cooing and waving her arms. “I think your daughter is trying to say hello.”
John crossed to the high chair. “Hello, Betsy. Did you miss Daddy?” He picked her up and kissed her cheek.
“Um, she hasn’t had her bath yet, so she may not smell too good. I thought it best to bathe her after breakfast.”
“That’s fine. But she didn’t wake me up at 4:00 a.m. as usual. I was afraid something was wrong.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I told you. Solid food stays with the baby longer and helps her to sleep through the night.”
“That’s really all it took? I didn’t believe—What did you feed her?”
“Last night I fed her some whipped potatoes.”
“She might’ve choked on that!” John exclaimed.
“The spoonfuls were very small, John. I’ve fed a baby before.”
“Yeah, but—”
“If you want me to wait until I take her to the doctor, I will. It’s your choice.”
“No, I guess—When are you going to the grocery store?”
“After breakfast and Betsy’s bath. I didn’t think he’d open before eight o’clock.”
“Her baby seat is in the car. Make sure you strap her in.” He settled his daughter in her high chair again. “Be careful. Don’t drive too fast.”
“No, I won’t.”
He stared at her. “Am I acting like an idiot?”
“Just a little bit,” Debra said with a smile. His obvious love for his child was very attractive and made it easy to forgive his difficult behavior toward her.
“Fine. Just—just get her home safely.”
“I will, I promise.”
John remounted and joined his crew, but his worries continued to dominate his thoughts. It was the first time someone else had taken Betsy anywhere.
Debra was unusually nervous when she drove the Cadillac Escalade to Westlake’s general store. She’d never been in such an expensive vehicle. It seemed foolish to Debra to pay for such a costly truck just to be sure Betsy was safe.
It appeared the store owner agreed with her. “I couldn’t believe when John ordered this here car for his wife,” Charlie said. “Man, these things cost a fortune.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard. But I guess it’s water under the bridge.”
“I don’t know about that. He could sure sell it and pay off some debts.”
“Would he get a lot for it?”
“Sure. He’s hardly driven it since his wife died.”
“Maybe he’ll decide to do that. Thanks for your help with the groceries.”
“Glad to do it. You’ve got your hands full with two little ones. Did you get everything you need?”
“I think so. Whatever Mrs. Richey did, she certainly organized and stocked the kitchen well.”
“Shoot, that wasn’t Mrs. Richey. John had a house keeper after he got married. Mrs. Richey insisted. But she left just before Mrs. Richey died. The lady of the house was unhappy with her work and fired her. Just as well. John couldn’t afford her salary with all the debt he’d incurred, anyway.”
“I hope she found another job.”
“Sure she did. A good cook can always find a job.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Thanks again for your help.”
Debra had a lot to think about as she drove home. Why hadn’t John sold the Escalade? His wife wasn’t here to use it. She certainly didn’t need it. She could drive John’s or Bill’s truck whenever she needed to go to town.
This trip to town was certainly productive, she thought as she eyed the big box in the back. John wouldn’t be upset that she’d bought Betsy a playpen, would he? After all, the baby could already pull herself up and would learn to walk if she had a safe place to try.
She could crawl around on the rug in the family room if someone was in there with her, but if Debra was to complete all her chores, she couldn’t watch the baby every minute. And Andy was too young for that responsibility. But he could watch Sesame Street and keep Betsy company if she was in the playpen.
As soon as they got home, Debra sat on the floor, with Betsy right beside her, and put together the playpen. Andy thought he was helping when he handed his mother the screws. It may have slowed down the process a little, but she believed in building a child’s self-esteem, even if it took a little lie now and then.
Soon she had Betsy in the new playpen and Andy on the sofa watching the television. She did chores until it was time to fix lunch, which reminded her that John hadn’t taken a sandwich like the other men. He would be starving. She planned her evening menu accordingly.
Both kids went down for a nap in the afternoon and she cleaned the big, beautiful house. Then she did some baking after they woke up. Andy loved baking cookies with her. Truth be told, she probably enjoyed it more than he did. Even Betsy was enthusiastic, joining in their laughter. While the cookies baked, Debra sat and spoke to the baby, helping her make sounds and try to make words.
The easiest one was Da-da. Debra wasn’t sure the baby knew she was naming her father, but she thought it would be fun for John. She could clearly remember the first time Andy called her Ma-ma.
Andy sat down for a cookie as soon as it cooled, the chocolate chips soft and gooey. She enjoyed a cookie, too, but more than that she relished this precious time with her son. If she’d been back in Kansas City, she’d just be getting home from the diner and no doubt be exhausted and looking forward to bed.
“Why can’t Betsy have a cookie, Mommy?” Andy asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Because chocolate isn’t good for babies, Andy. She’ll have to grow more teeth before she can eat chips, anyway.”
“But I like them!” Andy said.
“I know, honey. Betsy will, too, when she gets a little older. Oh, I need to feed the two of you so you can have your bath and go to bed before the men come in.”
“Why don’t I get to stay up and see the cowboys?”
“You will, honey, but right now they’re getting in late, too late for you to eat your dinner. After calving season, you’ll see a lot of them.”
“What’s calving season?”
“That’s when the mama cows have their babies.” When her son opened his mouth to ask more questions, she hurriedly said, “No, no more questions. I have too much to do right now.”
Once the children were in bed, she began preparing dinner, trying to fix dishes she thought John would like. Which was hard to do since she didn’t know any of his likes or dislikes.
Why did she keep thinking about the man?
He was driving her crazy.
She couldn’t possibly be attracted to him, could she? Well, she was sympathetic. She understood the anger he felt toward his first wife. She’d felt some anger toward her first husband, such as he was. But she wasn’t going to be hurt now. She was going to concentrate on her job and the children.
And one angry man.
CHAPTER THREE
“BETSY’S upstairs asleep, again?” John demanded fiercely when he came in for dinner that evening.
“Yes,” Debra said and followed him out of the kitchen. “John, I thought a regular schedule would be beneficial both for Andy and—”
“I’m not talking about Andy! I care about Betsy. I want to see her when I get home at night!”
Debra stopped short in the hall. “W
ell,” she said, her tone terse, “I guess that’s just another lie.” She turned back toward the kitchen.
“What are you talking about?”
“Uncle Bill said you’d be a daddy for Andy.”
Damn. Even he wouldn’t be mean to a kid. Didn’t she know that about him, at least? He was just in a snit—at Debra, mostly—and disappointed that even though the ranch work was getting done now, he was seeing less and less of his daughter. From the look on Debra’s face, he knew her feelings had gotten hurt. He knew he needed to apologize. Shoot, he was never any good at saying sorry. Often enough he’d had to eat crow when Elizabeth was upset—whether it was his fault or not. But it was not a skill he’d ever really acquired. He was about to give it a try when Debra shot him a narrowed glance as sharp as a new blade and walked away.
He’d apologize later. Seeing Betsy was important now.
Upstairs, John found his baby sleeping peacefully. He touched her downy hair and patted her back, but after several minutes, he realized she wasn’t going to awaken. Satisfying himself with a kiss on her cheek, he went back downstairs and showered. Everyone was already eating.
“Sorry, John,” Bill told him, a worried look on his face. “Debra told us to go ahead and eat.”
“No problem. I just wanted to check on Betsy.” The other two men welcomed him, but he noticed Debra said nothing as she passed the food to him. She’d get over her anger when he apologized later, not in front of the men, of course.
He waited until after they’d all finished eating, including the apple pie she put on the table. He’d never tasted better. But he thought his men had praised her enough.
Trying to wait out his men, he sat at the table, not moving as she stacked the dishes.
“Did you need something else, Mr. Richey?”
Her formality surprised him. “Why are you calling me that?”
“Is that not your name?” she asked coolly.
He ignored her question. “I was going to apologize—”
“Not necessary. You made everything clear.” She began loading the dishwasher.
Why did women make it so hard to say sorry? he thought to himself.
“Debra, stop! I want to apologize to you.”
“I’m sorry, but I have a lot of chores and I’m tired.”
“You’re not some damned Cinderella, Debra.”
“No, of course not. I’m your housekeeper.”
“You’re my wife!”
“You and I both know that isn’t true. If you’ll excuse me, I need to start a load of clothes.” She left the dishes and walked out of the room.
He followed her. “I’ll be able to hire a housekeeper in the fall.”
She whirled around and glared at him. When she started back down to the laundry room, John didn’t follow.
What did he say? He’d tried apologizing, he’d tried giving her a break—and whatever he’d said only made her angrier. Why would she be unhappy about him hiring a housekeeper? Elizabeth had insisted on it.
And why did she call him Mr. Richey? They were married. He may have been slow warming up to it but he’d still stood in front of the reverend and exchanged vows, hadn’t he? Didn’t that count for anything?
John went back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. She’d unsettled him so much he figured on being up half the night, anyway. One thing he was certain of—Debra may make him crazy, but neither she nor her so-called schedule was going to keep him from seeing his daughter.
Tomorrow he’d come in early.
Debra stopped her uncle before he could leave. “May I talk to you a minute, Uncle Bill?”
“Look, honey, I know he’s not being a good husband right now, but he’ll get better.”
She put up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to discuss John with you, at least not as my husband. I drove the Escalade to the general store today. Charlie said John could make a lot of money if he sold it. I wondered why he hadn’t. Surely the money would be helpful for the ranch. He could even hire another cowboy to help out.”
Bill stared at her. “You mean that?”
“Mean what?”
“You’re not asking for something for yourself? You would understand if he spent it on the ranch?”
“The car doesn’t belong to me. And I can as easily drive your truck into town if I need to, can’t I?”
“You sure can. This is great, Debra. I can’t wait to tell John what you said.”
“No! You are not to mention me at all. You had this idea on your own.”
“But, Debra—”
“No, Uncle Bill. You owe me that much.” If John decided to hire the housekeeper now instead of in the fall, well, that was life. She and Andy would find some where to go. After all, hadn’t Charlie said a good cook could always find a job? She felt her stomach clench at the thought. But she couldn’t possibly have already built an attachment to the ranch…or the man…. Could she?
Guilt had overcome Bill. He put an arm around her. “Yeah, honey, I do owe you. Okay, I won’t say anything about you, but he should know you thought up the idea and didn’t want to profit from it.”
“No. It won’t matter.”
Bill tried to argue with her, but Debra held up her hand. “I’m tired, and I’m going up to bed.”
“Okay, honey. Thanks again.”
After she had left the mudroom, Bill stood there, trying to figure out what to do. He decided to tell John he came up with the idea overnight. John would be too suspicious if he went back in to tell him now. And he’d promised Debra.
He felt like a dummy for not making that suggestion himself. John and he had both been in a fog after Elizabeth’s betrayal and death. He guessed they hadn’t been thinking too clearly. He only hoped John would agree with the decision.
When John came to breakfast the next morning, he was surprised to find his baby daughter in her high chair. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he said immediately.
Mikey and Jess were already at the table. Mikey said, “Aw, you don’t have to sweet talk Debra. She’s already cooked breakfast.”
Debra said nothing and kept her back to him.
“I was talking to Betsy,” John hurriedly said. “She hasn’t been joining us for breakfast since, uh, since Debra came.”
Debra turned around and hurriedly put a plate of scrambled eggs on the table. “You should feed Betsy her cereal. Just be sure to give her small spoonfuls.”
Then she turned back to the kitchen counter.
“Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed, Debra?” Mikey asked. “Oh, maybe I should ask John that question,” he added with a chuckle.
Debra turned on the water at the sink, ignoring them.
Bill came rushing in. “Sorry I’m late.” No one even looked at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothing,” Mikey said. Then he bent over and whispered, “I think they had a fight.”
Bill looked at John. He leaned closer to him. “Did you and Debra have a fight?”
“No. Why—” Betsy chose that moment to grab the spoon and dump its contents on her tray and herself. “Betsy, no!”
“Perhaps I should feed her while you eat your break fast,” Debra said quietly.
“No, I’ll feed my daughter.”
Without saying anything, Debra moved away. The lunches were on the cabinet and as the other men filed out, Debra handed them each a bag. They thanked her warmly.
She stood there watching John trying to get some cereal down his daughter. But she didn’t bother offering to feed Betsy again. After several minutes, John looked up. “I can’t seem to get much in her mouth.”
“I’ll finish feeding her, if you want.”
“Thanks.”
He grabbed his hat and hurried out without adding that he wanted to see his daughter at dinner that evening. During his sleepless night he’d come to realize that long a day might be difficult for Betsy. But he was glad Debra had realized what he wanted, seeing his daughter at breakfast.
Maybe th
ings would work out, after all.
Betsy protested as her daddy left the room. Debra hurried over to console the baby and help her drink her milk. It was in a Tommy Tippie cup rather than a bottle. “It’s okay, Betsy. He’ll get better with practice. Now, let me feed you some cereal before it gets cold.”
After she’d fed Betsy and changed her diaper, she woke up Andy and fed him breakfast. Then she put in a load of clothes while the dishwasher went through its cycles.
She was surprised when the phone rang midmorning.
Hesitantly, she lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello? Is this the housekeeper?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure you still worked there. It’s Adele from Westlake Auxiliary. We’re having our annual fair again this year. It’s an opportunity to sell things you don’t want or things you’ve made to sell, like jam, quilts, things like that. I hope you’ll be able to bring something. Ten percent of whatever you sell goes to the Auxiliary. We’re trying to buy a new fire truck, you know.”
Debra didn’t know.
“When is it, Adele?”
“In a month, April 12. I know I shouldn’t ask, but I hope your boss will let you bring some of Elizabeth’s things. I wasn’t a big fan of hers, but she had fabulous taste.”
“I’ll certainly ask.”
“Oh, good. Just report to Mrs. Jones before eight o’clock.”
“I don’t know Mrs. Jones,” Debra said quickly before the woman could hang up.
“Just ask around. Everyone knows her.” Click. The line went dead.
But it left Debra with a lot of questions and a few plans. First, she went into the master bedroom and found the lady’s closet. Why had John kept the clothes in the closet? Was it the same reason he had kept the car? Was he too depressed or too busy to make changes? Or did he still care for his first wife in spite of how she’d treated him?
Debra knew enough to recognize some designer names among the clothes that filled the closet. She figured John could make an attractive sum of money by selling his wife’s belongings. But she knew instinctively he wouldn’t do that. He was too proud.
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