Shannon rolled up her sleeves and turned to Toby and Molly who were standing near the door, their arms folded belligerently over their skinny chests, ready to escape if an opportunity presented itself. “The one thing I canna abide is filthy lads and lassies. A little dirt isn't a problem, but the two o’ ye go far beyond that. Toby, ye go over tae that tub behind the screen, strip down and climb into the tub.”
“I don't want to,” Toby declared, slumping to the floor with his arms crossed over his chest.
Shannon raised her brow at the stubborn child, knowing his sister would follow suit. Quickly, she strode over to both doors and locked them, putting the keys in her pocket.
“Hey, whatcha doing?” Molly demanded, alarm evident in her tone.
“We're not leavin' this room until yer skin is scrubbed clean and pink. Now --” Shannon took a deep, controlled breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “Ye can bathe while the water is hot or ye can wait until it turns cold. Makes no difference tae me. Either way, yer takin’ a bath.”
Neither of the children moved.
Undaunted, Shannon smiled slowly at them. They didn’t realize just how stubborn she could be, too, and she’d had many years of practice. “Perhaps, I need tae be helpin’ ye take yer clothes off,” she said airily, directing her attention towards Toby. “I thought ye'd be old enough tae undress by yerselves,” she said, shrugging. “But I see yer still babies that need my help.”
Toby scrunched his face, narrowing his eyes, and glared at her. “I ain't no baby,” he stated stubbornly. However, he did grudgingly scramble to his feet, then stomped off behind the screen.
“He is too a baby,” Molly declared, sticking her tongue out in Toby’s direction. But she too had begun to undress.
“I’m not,” Toby shouted back.
“Are too! 'Cause I'm the oldest.”
Shannon grabbed an apron that was draped over a chair and slipped it over her head. Wonderful. They were communicating even if it was in the form of shouting.
The Saints above must be testing me. Shannon couldn’t help thinking.
She tied the generous, white apron in the back and prepared to supervise. “Ye know, bein’ the oldest carries many responsibilities,” she told Molly matter-of-factly.
Molly had just finished removing her underclothes. Next she stepped up on the small stool and slid down into the warm water that covered her to her chin.
Shannon knelt beside the tub and prepared to scrub. She smiled as she noted how the child appeared so small in the huge vessel of water. She picked up a washrag and a bar of soap and lathered it up to show Molly how to do it. “With ye bein’ the oldest, yer younger brother will always look up tae ye fer advice.” She dipped the washrag up and down in the water to rinse out the excess suds. “Shut yer eyes,” Shannon instructed, then she soaped the rag again and scrubbed the child’s face, watching with keen interest as layer after layer of dirt slid off. Molly spit out the soap in protest as Shannon poured water over her head. “My, my, there is a bonny lass under all that dirt.”
“A bonny lass?”
“In my country, a girl is called a lass and a lad is a boy. And bonny means pretty.”
“Uh huh,” Molly said as if she heard the explanation every day, then she went on with what was important to her and whispered, “I like telling Toby what to do.”
“I imagine ye do.” Shannon smiled. “’Tis an advantage o’ bein’ older. Ye get tae experience everythin’ first.”
“I can hear you talking about me,” Toby shouted from the other side of the partition. “I’m clean.”
“I doubt that,” Shannon replied.
“Well, I’m tired of sitting in here.”
Shannon couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll get tae ye as soon as I wash yer sister’s hair.”
“Molly, I'm going tae huv a time gettin’ these tangles out of yer hair. I’ll try not tae pull yer hair, but with these knots, it’ll be a job not tae hurt ye some.” After several minutes, the dirty blonde hair hung loose and smooth over the girl’s shoulders.
Shannon reached for the grubby ribbons that had fallen from Molly’s hair and were floating in the water. The child turned and snatched the ribbons from Shannon's hand. “They’re mine!”
Shannon studied the rebellious child with a raised brow. “Ye huv the manners of a pig.” She sighed deeply. She was going to have a lot of work ahead of her. “Yes, they are yers,” she acknowledged calmly. “But the next time, ask first before jerkin’ anything out o’ my hand, ye ken?”
When Molly didn't answer, Shannon repeated, “Ye ken?”
“My mother gave them to me,” Molly said in a softer voice.
Shannon offered her a forgiving smile. “Then they must be verra special tae ye,” she said solemnly. “But I think yer mother would be verra disappointed in yer manners,” Shannon told her. It was obvious that the child was trying hard not to cry by the way her small, lower lip wobbled. “Why don't ye wash these lovely ribbons with soap while I wash yer brother. That way they wull be pretty and fresh fer tomorrow.”
“I'm tired of waiting,” Toby called out impatiently. “I’m all clean.”
Shannon laughed at that. It would take more than a quick soak for the many layers of dirt to come off that lad. “As dirty as ye were, a good soakin’ will do ye good,” she shouted over the partition. “Why don’t' ye be thinkin' of a good story for bedtime.”
“You know how to tell stories?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Oh boy,” Toby said.
As Shannon finished with Molly’s hair, she thought Toby might be easier to win over than Molly. The girl was older and, therefore, more cautious, and there was no doubt that she had stronger memories of her mother. It was going to take a great deal of work with both of them. Shannon prayed her patience held.
Once she had Molly bundled in a bath sheet, Shannon said, “Go to yer room and get dressed in yer clean clothes while I take care o’ this dirty lad. I’ll come and help ye dry yer hair when I’m finished.”
Shannon was surprised when Molly nodded instead of arguing. ’Twas good that she’d done that much, and Shannon would accept any small step as progress.
One down, one to go, she told herself, then turned her attention to Toby. He looked a lot like his father -- the same stubborn chin and green eyes -- albeit a lot dirtier. But Toby was young, so there might be time to instill some redeeming qualities into the lad before he turned into another version of his father.
To preserve his modesty, Shannon allowed Toby to wash himself. Under her supervision, of course. However, he neglected his face altogether, and she had to take over and finish the job. There was a cute little boy under all that dirt. He even had freckles.
After she sent Toby to his room to dress, Shannon checked on Molly. Shannon stood at the door and watched the child who was placing her ribbons with tender care on the windowsill to dry. A lump formed in Shannon’s throat. The child must really miss her mother, and she knew all too well how that felt. The hurt never stopped.
Molly had dressed in a lovely pink gingham dress which transformed her from the street urchin she’d first seen. “Ye look quite lovely, Miss Molly,” Shannon said.
Molly flashed an appreciative smile.
Shannon found a stool in the corner and placed it in front of the overstuffed chair, then settled on the dark rose-colored cushion. “Ahh,” she sighed heavily, not realizing until this moment how tired she was now that she had finally slowed down. Her back ached as did her legs, and her eyes wanted nothing more than to close. Nevertheless, the children still required her attention. “Come,” she said, patting the seat of the stool. “Sit here and I’ll dry yer hair.”
Molly obeyed, quickly settling on the footstool. Shannon picked up the discarded towel from the floor and towel-dried the child’s soft blonde hair while she hummed a tune that her own mother had always sung to her when she was a child.
Reaching for the brush, Shannon said. “Ye huv such lovely hair.
I’ll wager ‘tis like yer mother’s.”
“Mama had pretty hair,” Molly said. “It was very long.”
“Would ye like tae huv some curls in yer hair?”
Molly jerked away from Shannon, giving her a peculiar glare before she spat, “You’re not my mother!”
Shannon took a deep, calming breath. Evidently, the child had felt her guard slipping away and didn’t know how to handle the fact that she could accept kindness from another woman. Remembering she had done the same in her youth, Shannon let Molly’s outburst slide this once, feeling her heart lurch toward the sad, defiant little girl who desperately needed someone to love her.
“Nay, I’m not yer mother,” she said patiently, pulling Molly back so she could finish her hair. Shannon parted the blonde hair down the middle, then continued pulling the brush through the silky strands. “No one can ever take the place of yer mother, Molly. And I wouldna even try, but I hope that one day we might be friends.”
Molly didn’t respond, and Shannon didn’t push. She could understand the child’s confusion and resistance, but the sad fact was Molly’s mother wasn’t coming back, no matter how badly she wanted her to.
Shannon finished pulling Molly’s hair up into pigtails. Brushing her hands off on her apron, Shannon got up and looked Molly over. “Ye are all done. And ye look verra pretty, I might add.”
With a long sigh, Shannon placed her hands in the small of her back and stretched. She noticed that Molly didn’t thank her, but Shannon was too weary to deal with anything other than bathing the children right now. Etiquette lessons could wait until tomorrow after she had a good night’s sleep.
Her long journey weighed heavy on her shoulders, and she grew more fatigued with each passing moment. “I think I’m goin’ tae lie down fer a wee bit before dinner,” she said to no one in particular. “It has been a verra long day.”
Molly, who had been looking at herself in the mirror, spun around. “I’ll take you to your room,” she volunteered, which surprised Shannon. Then again, perhaps, the child was bending just a little.
Shannon nodded and followed Molly out into the hallway, practically running over Toby in the process.
“Where you goin’?” Toby demanded.
“I’m taking Miss Shannon to her room in the other wing,” Molly said.
“But --” Toby started, until his sister cut him off.
“Why don’t you get Miss Shannon’s carpetbag so she won’t have to carry it.”
“Sure,” Toby agreed with a grin, then darted off toward the parlor.
“That’s nice of Toby,” Shannon murmured, covering a yawn with her hand as she walked beside Molly across the main room. “There’s my carpetbag. I’m sure yer father wull have someone deliver my trunks.”
They hurried into the other wing. Something about the children’s eagerness bothered Shannon, but she was so tired she couldn’t think clearly. It was as if the stress of the entire journey had come pounding down upon her all at once.
When they reached the end of the second hall, Molly opened the door to a magnificent room much like her own room back home in England. However, there were no feminine accents anywhere to be seen. Of course, why should there be in a house run by a man?
“I thought my room would be much smaller,” Shannon said. She yawned, placing a hand over her mouth. “Are ye sure ‘tis mine?”
“Un huh. All the bedrooms are this big,” Molly assured her. “The grownups stay in this wing.”
“Here’s your bag,” Toby said, huffing and puffing as he dragged the carpetbag behind him. “Don’t know what you got in there, but the dang thing’s heavy.”
Shannon laughed as she took the bag. “’Tis a wee bit heavy,” she agreed. “But my trunks are worse. I’ll get them after my nap,” she said barely stifling another yawn. She dug down in her bag and retrieved two books. “Here are two storybooks that ye can look over.” She placed her bag back on the floor. “I wull see ye children at dinner. Mind ye stay clean sae yer father can see how fine his children look.”
“We will,” they said, darting from the room and slamming the door behind them.
She’d have to work on instilling in them how to properly close the door later along with quite a few other things. The list seemed to be growing longer and longer by the hour. Still she smiled, thinking of the children as she set her bag in a nearby chair. The bath was probably shock enough. Better not overwork them on the first day, then they would run from her.
Shannon wished she could give the children back their mother, but since that wasn’t possible, perhaps she could bring a little joy, along with discipline, to their lives. And if she were really lucky, perhaps, she could bring them closer to their father as well.
Their father.
Shannon hadn’t had time to think much about him since she’d arrived. Understanding Luke Griffin was a matter that would have to wait until she had a clearer mind. She found her brush tucked away in her carpetbag and placed it on the dresser. She removed the remaining hairpins and brushed out her hair.
Now to get out of these clothes, she thought as she unfastened the buttons on her blouse. She glanced around the room. ‘Twas quite lovely, in spite of its lack of feminine touches. A large four poster bed was the main focus of the room, and that bed was calling her name.
It would be heavenly to have a bath, and she longed for a nice soak in a hot tub, but her legs felt like jelly and she wasn’t sure how much longer they would hold her up.
So for now, she would strip down to her chemise until she could get a nightgown from one of her trunks. Leaving her hair loose and flowing around her shoulders the way she liked it, she climbed up on the large bed, moaning with relief as she sank into the feather comforter.
After a long day, this is pure heaven.
Spotting an afghan at the end of the bed, she reached down and pulled it up over her. Then she bunched up the pillow under her head and closed her eyes.
Well, I am here, Shannon thought as she drifted off to sleep –in a strange land with people I barely know. Perhaps she should be afraid, but she wasn’t. She felt as if she’d been sent here for a real purpose -- something other than just being nanny to two wild children -- though that made no sense to her at all. Her goal, for now, was to stay and make these strangers into a family. Hopefully she’d found her cowboy, even if he was a wee bit reluctant at the moment.
Shannon knew all too well what it was like not having a father’s love, and she wanted something different for these children. No child should have to endure what she had growing up. Still, they seemed somewhat better off than she had been. Their father might be remote, but he wasn’t cruel as hers had been.
Just what would the next month bring? She wondered as her eyelids drifted downward. Unfortunately, she lacked an answer for that question. Her heavy eyelids slowly closed, and she was asleep before she could finish her thought.
Chapter 5
The sky had turned a dusk-colored orange as Luke finished cooling down his mare and turning her into her stall. He ambled across the yard toward the back of the house, tired and hungry. The day had been too damn long and trying on his patience. The untimely appearance of yet another greenhorn eager to prove himself a fast draw had ended with the youngster losing his life in a gunfight.
Then there was the arrival of his newest nanny. What good was that slip of a girl going to do against his two hellions was beyond him. He wasn’t sure which was worse: the gunfight or the nanny.
No wonder his head hurt like hell.
Then again, Wilson needling him most of the afternoon could be the reason for his ailment. While they worked side-by-side digging postholes and splitting rails for the new fence on the north range, Wilson had commented that Luke was acting as if redheaded demons were after him. And then the fool had had the nerve to grin after his comment. His ranch hand knew Shannon would weigh heavily on his mind. He’d been there when Luke had written the missive for a nanny and knew the requirements and attributes Luke wa
nted for a prospective candidate to fulfill. If Luke had had the energy, he'd have wiped the smirk off his foreman's ornery face.
As Luke entered the kitchen to wash up, his scowl faded when he caught a whiff of roast beef on the air. “Smells good,” he called as he went to the dry sink by the back door. A contraption Maria had insisted upon when he’d hired her. She kept her kitchen spotless, and a bucket of water and towels beside the sink to ensure the room remained to her standards.
As he splashed the cool, reviving water onto his face and hands, his thoughts went back to Wilson.
Perhaps Wilson had been right after all.
Luke did feel as if a demon were after him, and she had a Scottish accent and flaming, red hair. Wilson sure had that right. But Miss McKinley would soon learn that he meant what he said. She could only stay until the next stage. He didn’t need any more problems to ride herd on.
That being said, he craned his neck toward the mouth-watering aroma. A good meal could make any man feel better as far as he was concerned. He shook the excess water from his arms and dried himself on the towel that lay next to the water bucket. Then he snagged a clean shirt from the peg and shrugged into the cool cotton.
“Good evening,” Luke greeted Maria and the two maids who kept each wing of the house spotless, Ada and Carmen. “Do we still have a nanny?” he asked as he buttoned his cuffs.
They nodded in unison. “Sí, señor,” one of them said.
“I assume everyone has placed their bets?”
“Sí,” Maria said as she placed a large roast on a white platter. “The pot is mucho big. Have you made your wager?”
Luke peered over her shoulder at the roast. “I give her thirty days. How long did you give her?”
Maria smiled. “Six months.”
“Why so long?”
“This one is different, señor. I like her.”
“Really?” Luke said, not hiding his surprise. “She isn't what I wanted or advertised for.”
Maria glanced up from slicing the roast. “Sí, but the ones who met your requirements only lasted a month. If Señorita Shannon can do the job more the better.”
Western Seduction (The Seduction Series Book 2) Page 5