“Thank you,” he nodded. “I’ll take it to the kitchen.”
“It was Flory’s idea,” she said quickly before he could move. “She said we needed to make you something special to thank you for letting us stay here.” The girl tilted her head to look at him. “We can stay, even though you won’t marry her?” Jonathan was shocked. Before he could respond, Gloria continued. “Flory wouldn’t say anything, but I heard you two talking.” She traced her foot in invisible circles on the porch. “You know, Mr. McRaney, even if you didn’t put that in the newspaper, there’s a reason it’s there. Maybe God wanted it to happen so my sister could see it and you could save us. If God didn’t want that, he wouldn’t have had that happen.”
Jonathan watched as Gloria turned on her heel and skipped down the steps back towards the wagon. He then went inside the house and sat the basket down on the kitchen table.
“A thank you gift, I presume?” Harriett questioned, making him jump in surprise.
He knew she was there, so why had she been able to startle him? Perhaps it was because he had been deep in thought and for one moment, had forgotten everything except what just happened.
“What?” He blinked and nodded. “Yes, a thank you gift.”
“Gloria?” Harriet asked.
“What?” Jonathan said. He needed to get his thoughts together.
“The little one is Gloria?” Jonathan nodded. “Would you like those for dessert tonight?” she asked, pointing to the basket.
Jonathan nodded and pushed the basket towards Harriet.
“Yeah, dessert,” he mumbled, shaking his head as he walked out the door. “Thank you, Harriet,” he called over his shoulder but didn’t stop as he made his way back to the trunk, he’d left discarded.
As he stepped out the door, he saw Thomas give Flory a quick hug, their words muted to him as the distance was too great for him to hear. Ignoring the laughter coming from them, Jonathan turned his attention to Gloria who was racing along the fence that divided the yard from the pasture.
He watched for a few minutes, not noticing when Flory had walked up the porch until she cleared her throat. Thomas gave a wave and left Flory and Jonathan alone on the porch.
“Your room is upstairs to the left,” he motioned into the house, stepping aside for her to enter the house with her bags.
She called to Gloria over her shoulder and the girl started skipping back to the house.
“She’s really good with animals.”
“Who?”
“Gloria. She always wanted a dog, but we couldn’t have one in Philadelphia.”
“Hmmm.” He watched her retreat inside the house.
He picked up the smaller trunk and carried it up the stairs. Dropping it with a loud thud, he leaned against the door, staring into the room that Harriet had gotten ready the night before so there wouldn’t be any running around or trying to hurry and do things at the last minute.
The bed had been made where before, it had been stripped bare while the room was empty. The room had been cleaned of the dust that had accumulated as well. For nearly a decade, it was only Jonathan and his foreman living at the house. When Hank Jackson married Harriet, they moved to a small house on the property, so then Jonathan was alone once more.
It was a rather large house. He didn’t know why he had built it so big. Perhaps he was thinking … he ran his hand down his face. He didn’t know what he was thinking.
It made perfect sense for Flory and Gloria to stay with him. He had plenty of room and the house was large enough that they could stay out of each other’s way.
One thing was for sure, and that was that he had told Flory the truth. He had never sent in that ad, but as the days were progressing and the whispering became more prominent, he was pretty sure he was getting an inkling of an idea who had done it.
Just finding out if he knew it for sure was going to be the next challenge. How did you confront someone when you suspected them of doing something so strange with no idea why?
“Is this our room?”
Gloria’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“It is absolutely lovely,” Flory said coming up to stand next to her sister. “Thank you, Mr. McRaney.”
“Might as well call me Jonathan since you are living here now.”
He pushed the trunk inside the room and looked around the room.
It was simple in décor – a large bed sat in the middle, with small tables on either side. There was a blanket trunk, as his mother called it, at the foot of the bed and a small wardrobe against one wall. A stand with a basin and pitcher stood in an opposite corner and a galvanized tub was attached to the wall with a nail. Above the bed was a small window letting light in through sewn curtains made from an old tablecloth.
“As soon as I told Harriet you were coming, she put the room together.”
“Harriet?” Flory asked.
“Yes. Harriet Jackson. She’s my cook, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it.”
“If you already have a housekeeper, why did you ask me if I know how to do all those things?”
“Because she is married to my foreman, and I’m sure that she would like to tend to her own home, instead of mine.”
Flory opened her mouth in an O, but nothing came out. Instead she went and sat on the bed dropping her bags on the floor next to a nightstand.
She sat on the bed and patted the blanket. “Isn’t this exciting, Bug? We have our own room and bed together!”
Gloria looked at her sister and wrinkled her nose. “You have cold feet,” she said. Flory laughed. The sound went straight through Jonathan. It sounded like a hundred church bells ringing.
“I’ll wear stockings then,” Flory said rising to put her arm around Gloria.
Jonathan swallowed. He didn’t like where his thoughts were going. Already he was regretting this decision. He was sure that he was going to spend most of the winter out in the barn with the animals and ranch hands.
“Uhm, how about I show you the rest of the house and the ranch?”
“Oh yes!” Gloria jumped up and down. “Can I see the horses?”
Jonathan nodded, smiling at the young girl. “I don’t see why not.”
He turned on his heel without waiting for the two to follow him. He needed air. There was just something about Flory that got under his skin.
He had never reacted to a woman that way. Never. Why, exactly he couldn’t tell.
It bugged him that they were on his mind constantly for the last almost three days. Even though it wasn’t his ad, this woman showed up out of nowhere pleading for him to marry her. Pleading for him.
Then there was the town. It appeared she was going to be pushed from place to place until either she found someone to marry her or gave up and went back home.
Jonathan rubbed his chest.
It must be indigestion.
He was doing the right thing. Flory and Gloria needed a place to stay until the stage returned and could take them to the train station. The least he could do was give her a place to stay until after the holidays. Right?
It felt right in his heart anyways. He could give her a place in exchange for her helping Mrs. Jackson and then they would be on their way after the holidays. It was that simple.
So, why didn’t it feel simple? Something about it still sort of bugged him really. Not everything seemed that easy.
He walked to the kitchen where Harriet was preparing a pot of coffee. She spied him and, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was there, she beckoned him over.
“Jonathan, are you sure about this?” Harriet whispered. She was older than him, but had a sweet countenance, especially for dealing with a group of hungry and sometimes grouchy cowboys.
She took a tray of cookies from the oven and placed them on the table next to the basket to cool. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. He swiped a cookie stuffing the treat in his mouth. “I really don’t know. But we’ll find out.”
“You ought to be careful,” she sai
d slowly. “The heart is a fickle thing to mess with. If you aren’t careful, you could fall in love.”
Jonathan let out a grunt, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. This time, he didn’t look at her as he spoke. “I will not fall in love, Harriett. I am just being kind, that’s all. I am a confirmed bachelor.”
She laughed softly. “Oh, Jonathan. You really have no idea how the heart works, do you?”
He looked at her quizzically, but before he could say anything Gloria came bounding into the kitchen. She grabbed Jonathan’s hand. “Let’s go. You promised me you would show me everything.”
Chapter 7
The days flowed into one another. Flory cooked and cleaned as promised and taught Gloria to mend Jonathan’s clothes. It was a slow progression, it took twice the time for Gloria for repair a shirt, than it did for Flory.
Harriet was kind enough to find some old clothes and gave them to Gloria so she could practice her stitching. Flory continued Gloria’s lessons in the evening, teaching the young girl reading and mathematics.
It was hard to believe she had been at the ranch for a week. She didn’t see much of Jonathan. He spent most of his time in the barn. When he did come in the house, he would look at her with a peculiar stare before disappearing into his room.
On the rare night where he did sit with them in front of the fire, he was either whittling or reading. He didn’t say much, and that was fine with Flory. She had a difficult time keeping up with Gloria’s chatter.
They hadn’t left the ranch since they arrived. There was no need. Jonathan had a well-stocked home and Flory wanted to save what little bit of money she had left.
Christmas was a week away. Flory was sitting on the bed counting out her coins when she heard Gloria call her name.
“Upstairs, Bug,” she answered. She fingered the coins before wrapping them back in a handkerchief. She had enough to get Gloria a small gift and a bar of chocolate from the mercantile. The rest she would keep in case they needed to leave after the holidays. The thought hurt her heart.
She went to stand but her legs felt weak, so she fell back on the bed. The weakness had been a constant the past few days. Flory thought it must have been from all the sitting she did on the train.
She looked out the window above the bed. She had moved the curtains aside so she could look out the window at the snow-covered mountains. She could spend the rest of her life looking at that view.
Gloria’s footsteps could be heard running up the stairs. Her sister rushed into the room and fell onto the bed to catch her breath.
“What are you doing?” Gloria asked in between gulps of air.
“I was just thinking about Christmas. What are you doing?”
“Christmas? Are we going to have Christmas?”
Flory nodded. “I’m hoping Father Christmas will find us here.” Flory opened the drawer in the nightstand and placed the wrapped coins under her stockings.
Gloria leaned up on her elbows, her feet swinging at the edge of the bed.
“I hope so too. I hope he remembers to bring chocolate.”
Flory brushed the hair from Gloria’s face. It was forever falling from its pins. “Did you finish your lessons?” Gloria was copying the words from the Standard Primer. Granted it was rudimentary, but it was the only primer that Flory had.
“Can you teach me to knit, Flory?”
“Where did that come from?”
“I saw Mrs. Jackson knitting. She’s making a scarf for Mr. Jackson. I’d like to make one for Jonathan.”
“Why’s that, Bug?”
“Because he’s been so kind to us. I want to do something for him. I’ll give it to him at Christmas.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Before her sister could bounce off the bed, Flory reached out and grabbed her sister’s hand. “Did you finish reading the book I gave you?” Flory loved to read, and she hoped that she would be able to instill that in her sister.
Gloria shook her head. “It was boring. I wanted to go see the horses, but it is raining. Harriet doesn’t like mud in the house.”
“Nor do I,” Flory said, tapping Gloria on the nose. “Remember we are guests here. We need to respect the house and not make a mess.”
Gloria sighed. “I know, you’ve said that all week.” She pushed up so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. “When will we go to town and see Grandma Minnie and Mrs. Brown again?”
“When it isn’t so cold and wet,” Flory said. She recalled Jonathan saying that it was an unusual winter. Normally there were already feet of snow on the ground. Instead, there had been a lot of rain. “How about I go make us a cup of tea and you gather the knitting bag? We’ll go sit by the fire and I’ll teach you to knit.”
Gloria leaned over to give her sister a hug. “Thank you. Maybe we can bake brownies later?”
“Maybe. I don’t know if Harriet has any cocoa.”
“Well we can ask her.” While Gloria got up and walked over to the trunk and started rummaging inside it, Flory headed downstairs to heat water for tea.
Flory shook her head thinking of the joy in Gloria’s face. Her sister was showing more joy in life than she’d had in months and it made her heart feel whole to see that. She knew Gloria wanted to stay, but she didn’t know if that would be possible.
Harriet had shown her where all the supplies were kept. Flory put the iron kettle on the stove and stoked the fire with the pieces of tinder next to the door. She then pulled down the tin where Harriet kept the tea.
She wished this was her stove. Her kitchen. She had made some meals this week, but Harriet still did the bulk of the cooking. She imagined cooking for her family. Images of baked chicken, steak, stews and beans floated through her mind. She needed to remember to ask Harriet how to make the cornbread that Jonathan liked so much.
“I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” a voice said behind her. Flory nearly dropped the tin as she turned around to see the man she was daydreaming about.
He had just come inside; the bottoms of his pants were wet. He didn’t have shoes on, and he wiggled his stocking feet as she glanced down.
“My goodness, Jonathan, you scared me.” She placed the tin down on the table.
“Were you making coffee?”
“No. Tea. Would you like a cup?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Is there any coffee left from breakfast?”
Flory reached over and touched the pot. It was stone cold. “I’ll make a fresh pot.” She looked at the puddles following Jonathan as he walked through the kitchen. “Harriet will be after you for that mud.”
Jonathan laughed. “Yes, she will. I’ll get changed and then help clean it up.”
“I can do it. There isn’t much,” she said.
“Why do you call her bug?” Jonathan asked.
“Who? Gloria?” Jonathan nodded. “Her birthday is in June. My father called her June Bug and I guess it stuck.” Flory picked up the coffee pot and added water to it from the bucket next to the sink before setting it on the burner next to the kettle.
“It suits her,” Jonathan said, moving closer to the stove.
Flory fiddled with the cameo at her throat. She could smell the scent of rain and earth as he moved closer to her.
“Do you have a nickname, Flory?” His voice was husky as it reached her ears.
Flory gave a nervous laugh and grabbed the tin with the coffee in it, scooping several spoons full of grounds into the coffee pot. “Flory is my nickname.”
“It is?”
Flory nodded, replacing the canister above the stove. “It is short for Florence.”
“Florence.” She could hear the word roll off Jonathan’s tongue. She closed her eyes as she felt him move closer. “It’s a beautiful name. But I think Flory suits you,” he whispered.
“Flory…ew! You’re all wet, Jonathan,” Gloria said running into the kitchen.
“I know. It is muddy out there.”
“You have a funny look on your face.” Gloria stopped in f
ront of him. “Are you feeling poorly?”
Jonathan laughed. “I’m alright. Just a bit cold.”
“Flory’s getting sick.”
Jonathan’s eyes flew up to hers. “You are?”
Flory shook her head. “I’m just tired.”
“I can tell she’s getting sick because she snores when she sleeps. Momma said that was how she knew Poppa was getting sick.” Gloria sat down at the table.
“Do you need a doctor?” Jonathan asked, his voice laced with concern.
“No, I’m alright. I think with arriving in town and the excitement of the past week I’ve just not had a chance to properly rest.”
“Maybe you should go to bed early tonight,” Jonathan offered softly.
“I’ll see how late it is when I get everything done.”
“You don’t have to…”
Flory held up her hand. “No. We agreed that I would cook and clean. I’m going to keep my end of our agreement.”
“Flory, Harriet can come…”
“No,” she replied harsher than intended. “Go do whatever it was you were going to do.” She waved Jonathan towards the door. “I’ll get the floors cleaned since it is my responsibility.”
A frown appeared on Jonathan’s face. He gave a glance to Gloria. “I’m going to get into some dry clothes and then I’ll be back for coffee.” Flory watched him disappear from the room.
“Gloria,” she admonished, turning her attention to the young girl. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Like what?” Gloria asked, picking up a fork from the table and twirling it in her fingers.
“That I’m sick. That Jonathan looks funny.”
“Why not?” Gloria looked at Flory and blinked. “It is true.”
“We don’t want to give him a reason for asking us to leave, that’s all.”
“He wouldn’t do that. I like him.”
“Me too, Bug. Me too.” The water was boiling so Flory poured it into the teapot and swirled the leaves around. She looked at Gloria. “Where’s the knitting bag?”
“Oh, that is what I wanted to say,” Gloria said. “I can’t find it.”
A Cowboy for Christmas (Spinster Mail Order Brides Book 11) Page 4