LITMIR.BIZ

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beneath his dark mustache when he smiled. She’d had little to brighten her days lately, other than meeting Conrad Carson. And even that small bit of pleasure had not been enough to lift her spirits for long.

      In fact, until this very minute, she’d about decided life had reached rock bottom.

      The small valley had seemed an Eden of sorts for a while. Only when the store of supplies began running out had she faced facts. Eden would soon pale once the cornmeal and sugar sacks were emptied.

      “You asked me to come to your place and do your washing, Mr. McPherson. Does the offer still hold?” Unbidden, the words rushed from her lips and she hesitated, her cheeks flushing with her own temerity as she waited his reply.

      His fingers gripped the dented top of his hat and he swept it from his head. “Matter of fact, that’s the very reason I came out here this morning,” he said politely.

      Her heart skipped a beat and she felt a rush of warmth flow through her veins. That her prayer should be answered so quickly was surely a sign.

      “You want me to go back with you and work on your laundry?” she asked, her mind already speeding ahead to the preparations she must make, were that the case.

      His mouth quirked at one corner, and she wondered if he were mocking her eagerness. And then he grinned outright, a smile that carried a welcome message. “More than that, I want you to take on some cooking chores, if you will.”

      “If there’s any great amount of washing to do, it may take the rest of the day,” she countered. “I might not have much time left over to spend cooking a big meal for you.”

      He ran long fingers through his hair, scratching a spot at the crown, as if he pondered her words. Then the big hat went back in place over his dark hair and he set his jaw, as if he had reached a decision and would not be swayed.

      “I’d thought you might be persuaded to take on the ranch kitchen. Just to see if you could handle it. It’s probably too much of a job for a girl like you to cope with, but—”

      “I’m far from a young girl, Mr. McPherson,” she said sharply, interrupting him. “I’ve been cooking and scrubbing out the washing on a board for several months now. I’m sure I can handle cooking for a man and doing his clothes without much effort at all.”

      Her mouth set primly, she awaited his reply, her pride the issue now. If he thought for one minute she was too puny to be of any use, he could just…Just what? Find someone else for the job? When she so desperately needed the security of cash money in her hand and food for the table?

      “Well…” He seemed to hesitate, and she urged him silently, her mouth firm, her eyes intent on his, her breath stored tightly in her lungs, as if she feared to release it before he made up his mind.

      “It’s not just for me,” he told her. “There’s my brother, too. Plus four ranch hands and Sam. He’s been cookin’ for us, but I doubt he’ll ever be able to put a decent meal together to save his soul. That’s seven men to cook for. The washing is just for me and my brother, but if you wanted to earn more money, I’m sure the men would be happy to get their duds scrubbed out on a regular basis. They like clean clothes come Saturday night, usually.”

      Seven men! The image was daunting, but Rachel swallowed her urge to spew the words aloud. She caught her breath, her mind in a whirl. If the ranch house was farther than an hour away, she’d spend much of the day driving the wagon back and forth and never have time to do her own work here.

      And then there was the question of the boys.

      “Can I bring my brothers along for the day?” she asked, her heart beating rapidly as she bargained.

      His shrug was casual. “Don’t know why not They can give you a hand, maybe. Or just pitch in with the barn work.”

      She glanced at the shack, where Jay had just appeared in the doorway. “They’ll need to eat, too. If I’m cooking for you, it will be for nine, not just seven.”

      “Ten,” he corrected her. “I’ll expect you to share the table with us, Miss Sinclair.” His eyes lit with a glow of triumph and she noted it uneasily.

      “How far from here is the house?”

      “Better than an hour in a wagon,” he told her. “Little less on horseback.”

      “It’ll take me a few minutes to get the boys ready and set things to rights here.” She brushed her hands against the front of her skirt. “I probably should change my clothes too.”

      He cleared his throat, looking past her to where Jay stood near the shack. “Why don’t you just plan to stay on at the house, long as you’re going to be working there anyway?”

      She blinked, attempting to digest his suggestion. “You want all of us to move to your house?” The thought was beyond her comprehension.

      His nod of agreement stunned her. “Reckon that’s what I had in mind, ma’am. Thought you might load up your wagon and follow me back. I’ll give you a hand with your things.”

      “Rae, what’cha doin’ up there?” From the shack, Jay’s reedy voice lifted on the still air.

      Rachel’s head turned and she looked down at her small brother, dressed in too-short pants and a shirt he hadn’t grown into yet. His dark, stubborn hair stuck up at the crown, ignoring his efforts at the stream to plaster it against his scalp, and one bare foot rubbed against the other as he watched her.

      “I’m talking to Mr. McPherson, Jay. I’ll be right there. Go get your brother out of bed.” Her words carried easily to where the child stood and he nodded agreeably as he turned back to the shack.

      “You’ll go with me?” Cord asked, and she cast him a knowing glance.

      “Look around you, Mr. McPherson. If you were trying to tend two boys and keep them fed and clean and had to worry about where you were going to land once you set out from here, would you turn down an offer like the one you just made me?”

      He nodded, his lips parting in a smile of approval. “I see what you mean. I think you’re a smart lady, to tell the truth. Workin’ for me will give you time to figure out what you want to do next.” He grasped his horse’s reins and walked ahead of her, down the rise and across the grassy clearing.

      Rachel followed in his wake. He sure as the world had it all figured out, didn’t he? Her feet dragged as she considered the man striding down the shallow slope before her.

      He was taking an awful lot for granted, organizing their lives this way. Pa’s vision of claiming land farther west was still alive in her soul and if she agreed to stop here, the boys would never see the West their father had dreamed of.

      “Mr. McPherson, why don’t we make this a sort of temporary thing, me working for you? Just in case I’m not satisfactory for the job.” She’d managed to halt his progress with that one, and a small sense of triumph buzzed within her as he paused in front of her.

      He hesitated, just for a moment, then swung to face her, his eyes alight with an emotion akin to amusement. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll work out just fine, Miss Sinclair. I’ll give you time to learn the ropes, get your feet wet, so to speak.”

      He waved expansively at the clearing ahead of them. “If you can make a home here, with nothin’ to do it with, I’ll warrant you can run rings around the help I’ve got in my kitchen now.”

      The web he was weaving wrapped around her, its elusive threads beguiling her, and she made one last valiant effort to establish her ground.

      “I need money, Mr. McPherson. Not just a place to stay. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll need a stake to get us where we’re going.”

      He nodded slowly. “I guess that’s only fair. Why don’t we give it a year’s trial?”

      “A year!” Her voice lifted, the words a squeal, and the hard-won dignity she’d managed to don like

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