LITMIR.BIZ

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ate at a rapid pace, as if racing to a finish line.

      Indeed, Rachel had barely begun eating when chairs were shoved back and the crew took their leave. Cord watched her assessingly from the other end of the table, his own meal half-consumed.

      “It seems you’ve got a job, Miss Rachel,” he said with satisfaction. “Old Sam said he hadn’t had such good food in a month of Sundays.”

      Rachel’s spoon halted midway to her mouth. “I don’t know how you could hear him, with all the noise. Did he take your brother any coffee? I think he went on out with the rest of the men.”

      Cord grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Why don’t you trot on down the hallway, and find out for yourself. Jake’s in the library, last room on the right. Makes it handy, with the wheelchair.”

      “I don’t think so,” Rachel said quickly. “My last encounter with your brother Jake didn’t give me a taste for a second helping.”

      Cord’s smile faded and he allowed his chair to settle on all four legs. “He’s a handful to deal with, Rachel. We all know that In fact, it’s almost too much for Sam these days.”

      “And you want me to stick my nose into that room and get it cut off?”

      “He’s probably cooled down by now. The piano playing was what set him off.”

      Rachel’s brow furrowed. “He doesn’t like music?”

      “That would be a mercy. Music was his life, before the war. He’d trained in New York City to be a concert pianist, and then when the war broke out, he felt compelled to join the army.”

      He laughed, a mirthless sound. “We were all so worried about his hands. Instead, he lost his legs. One above the knee, the other below.”

      Rachel nodded, shaking her head as she acknowledged the loss. “He can’t play because he can’t use the pedals.”

      “Exactly.” Cord rose from his chair and walked to the door, looking through the screen to where Henry and Jay hung over the corral fence. “He wanted to have the piano burned at first. Then, when he’d thought better of it, he decided to give it to the church.”

      “Why didn’t you?” Rachel asked.

      “It wouldn’t go in the door. We measured every which way and it wouldn’t make it.”

      “And so it sits and gathers dust. What a loss.”

      Cord turned to face her. “I hear from Sam that you play well.”

      She shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose. I certainly worked hard enough at it. We had to sell my piano when my folks decided to come West”

      “It must have broken your heart.”

      Rachel shook her head. “No, it broke my heart when I buried my mother and father two months ago. Selling the piano was small potatoes compared to that”

      “They died two months ago? On the trail?”

      She nodded. “Pa collapsed one day after we crossed a river. The horses were in trouble and Pa was done in when he finally got them up the bank. His chest began hurting and then he collapsed. We buried him there. The doctor in the next town said it was probably his heart.”

      “What about your mother?” Cord asked.

      Rachel’s voice was thick with the unshed tears she hoarded within herself as she whispered the tragic words she still found hard to believe as the truth. “Mama wandered off the next night while we were sleeping in the wagon and got bitten by a rattler. The scout found her the next morning.”

      “My God, Rachel. How did you bear up under it?” Cord asked in a strained voice. He shook his head, as if he groped for words.

      “I can see where the loss of your piano wasn’t nearly so important anymore,” he said finally.

      “I wish I had it now,” Rachel whispered. “Music soothes the soul.”

      “Maybe…” Cord hesitated, then gestured at the coffeepot. “Give it another try, Rachel. I’d be willing to bet Jake enjoyed his dinner. Pour a cup and take it in to him.” His lips curved as he tried on a grin for her benefit.

      “If he throws something at you, duck. Chances are he’ll just grouse for a few seconds. Jake enjoys nothing in this world more than a cup of coffee.”

      Her chin jutted as Rachel listened unbelievingly to his instructions. She glared at him, her mind torn from the sorrow she’d been reminded of for a few moments. “You owe me, Cord McPherson. I didn’t bargain for catering to an invalid, but I’ve a notion that’s exactly where I’ll be heading, once Sam Bostwick sees me waiting on Jake.”

      Cord lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “Maybe you can deal with him, Rachel. God knows no one else gets anywhere.”

      “I’m not taking him on, Cord.” Her mouth set in a determined line as she plunged both hands into her apron pockets. “I’m your cook, and I’ll wash your duds, but ducking every time I open your brother’s door is out.”

      “Not even once, Rachel? Just one cup of coffee?” The teasing grin was gone.

      The vision of the unkempt man who’d so rudely interrupted her few moments of joy burst inside Rachel’s mind, and she shook her head. “I doubt he’d welcome me, even with a cup of coffee in hand.”

      Cord’s mouth twisted in a wry grin. “Can’t blame me for trying, Rachel.” He reached for a heavy cup from the cupboard and filled it from the blue-speckled pot “I’ll deliver it myself. Send in the troops if I don’t come back in five minutes.”

      

      Breakfast was barely devoured the next morning when Cord stepped back into the kitchen, hat in hand. “Rachel, I’m going to town to the emporium. Anything we need for the house?”

      She turned from the dishpan, wiping her hands on a towel. “Do you think I could go along? The boys need some boots if they’re going to be working in the barn, and I thought I could get them each a pair.”

      “I can pay you for your first week here, if you need the money,” Cord said.

      She shook her head. “No, I have enough, so long as I know I’ll be earning some right along. Shamus wants me to do up his laundry every week, and Buck and Jamie asked if I’d iron them each a shirt on Saturdays.”

      He laughed. “That’s so they’ll look pretty when they go into town Saturday nights.” He shook his head. “You won’t make much cold hard cash ironing two shirts, Rachel. Better charge them a pretty penny.” He turned back to the door. “Come on ahead, then, if you’re riding along.”

      She untied her apron and hung it on the hook in the pantry, running back to the stove quickly to check the black kettle where a stewing hen was simmering. With a practiced eye she gauged the bubbling liquid and slid the pot toward the back burner, clutching the handle with a heavy flannel pad.

      “I’m ready,” she announced, her hands quickly smoothing back her hair. “I just have to run up and get my money.”

      “Five minutes,” Cord said, heading out the door.

      Jay and Henry were kicking their heels on the back of the wagon when Rachel crossed the porch, her bonnet strings trailing from her fingers.

      “Mr. Cord said we could go along,” Jay piped up.

      “He said you were gettin’ us some new boots.” Henry’s voice rose at the end of his sentence, as if he questioned the validity of such an idea.

      Rachel nodded, her heart lifting as her brothers poked at each other with delight. She could even spare them each a couple of pennies for candy again, she thought, imagining their delight.

      “Can we get high tops, Rae?” Henry asked wistfully.

      “We’ll see,” she answered

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