Montana Mail-Order Wife - Charlotte Douglas

Скачать книгу

      Wade pivoted and headed back to his truck. “I’d better see if they need help.”

      “You got more important work—” Ursula jerked her thumb toward the house “—upstairs.”

      Wade turned. “Jordan? Is he hurt?”

      Rachel registered a shock of empathy at the fear and concern on Wade’s face.

      “No,” Ursula said, “but he’s in his room, crying his eyes out, afraid you’ll tan his hide good this time.”

      “You know I’ve never laid a hand on…” He glanced toward the smoking pines. “Jordan started the fire?”

      Feeling like an intruder, Rachel retreated into the shade of the porch, but she couldn’t avoid the argument between Wade and his housekeeper.

      “Don’t be too hard on the boy,” Ursula said. “He was just trying to please you.”

      “By burning down my best timber? I’ll—”

      “Wade Garrett!” Ursula drilled him with a scowl. “For the past twenty years, you’ve been like a son to me, but if you don’t start giving that boy what he needs, I swear, I’ll disown you.”

      Wade yanked off his hat, slapped it against his thigh and pointed at Rachel. “I’ve brought him what he needs. A mother.”

      Rachel flinched as the full impact of mail-order bride status hit her. Wade had treated her with no more respect than some fourth-class package.

      Ursula stepped toward Wade and shook her finger at him. “Sometimes I think you couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel—”

      “Tell Jordan I’ll talk to him at supper.” Wade crushed his hat back on and strode to the truck. With a ferocious grinding of gears, he peeled off in a flurry of dust.

      Ursula climbed the porch steps as if her arthritis pained her, and approached Rachel. “Thank God, you’re here, girl. Don’t mind Wade’s rough ways. He’s all heart underneath his bluster. But both Wade and Jordan, they need you more than you could ever imagine.”

      Rachel watched the haze of dust that marked Wade’s progress toward the fire. She didn’t doubt his love for Jordan. In the surprising outburst from the man who had impressed her with his even-tempered nature, she had recognized his frustration over Jordan’s mischief.

      Most telling of all, Wade obviously believed all his boy needed to cure his troubles was a mother.

      Rachel wasn’t so sure. After all, she wasn’t the boy’s mother, but a total stranger. Not the woman his father loved, only someone who had responded to a personal ad. And any skills or experience she might once have used to benefit a troubled boy lay buried deep in her damaged psyche.

      With a sinking sensation that she’d stumbled into more than she could handle, Rachel followed Ursula into the house.

      Chapter Four

      Rachel accompanied Ursula through the broad central hall of the house. Doors to adjoining rooms opened on either side, and a wide staircase rose to the second floor, but she paid little attention to her surroundings, beyond the walls’ chinked-log construction, polished hardwood floors, spaciousness created by high ceilings, and the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon in the air.

      Ursula stepped through a door at the end of the hall and preceded Rachel into a bright, oversize kitchen. Cheery yellow-checkered curtains flanked the ample windows, and a monstrous, black wood-burning stove with logs stacked beside it dominated one end of the room.

      The logs reminded Rachel of Wade’s timber. “The forest fire—did it do much damage?”

      From a hook behind the door, Ursula removed a gingham apron, a twin to the one she wore, and handed it to Rachel. Her pleasant features darkened. “Enough to take a bite out of Wade’s timber profits this year.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      Rachel recalled the agony on Wade’s face when he realized the blaze was on his land. After the kindness he had shown her, losing his timber didn’t seem fair.

      The housekeeper gave her a peeler and indicated a small mountain of potatoes on the well-scrubbed wooden table. “Wade planned to use the money from that timber to buy more land this year.”

      “Can’t he use the income from his cattle?” As Rachel hefted a potato and fumbled with the unfamiliar feel of the peeler, the rudeness of her question struck her. “Sorry, it’s really none of my—”

      “Course it’s your business. You’re going to be his partner, aren’t you?”

      “Maybe.” She glanced at her hands to conceal her blushing and avoid the housekeeper’s probing look.

      “Cattle business ain’t what it used to be,” Ursula grumbled as she filled a pot the size of a washtub with water and set it on the massive stove, “but Wade’s better at raising beef than anyone else in this part of the state.”

      If Rachel entertained the slightest inclination toward accepting Wade’s strange proposal, she’d need all the information she could gather. Encouraged by Ursula’s openness, she posed another question. “Doesn’t it take a lot of money to operate a huge ranch like this?”

      Ursula picked up a paring knife and attacked the skin of a potato. “Wade’s a good manager. When cattle prices are up, he sets something aside for leaner years. His timber’s always been icing on the cake. Investing the money from those sales has made him the wealthiest man in the valley.”

      Ursula had already peeled two potatoes to Rachel’s one, assaulting the spuds as if they were enemies. Rachel marveled at the swiftness of the weathered hands, misshapen by arthritis. If Wade expected her to replace this paragon of domesticity, she had a lot to learn.

      “This year’s timber’s gone,” Ursula said, “but because of Wade’s investments, he won’t ever have to break the promise he made his daddy.”

      “What promise was that?” Rachel wiped the finger she’d nicked with the peeler on her apron.

      “Never to sell off part of Longhorn Valley Ranch. A real estate agent from Great Falls has been hovering around here like a buzzard, offering to buy the land along the river for an outrageous price.”

      “If the ranch’s profits are variable, why would someone else offer outrageous money for just a strip of it?”

      “The Realtor wants to subdivide it into ‘estates’ for all them wealthy folks moving from California to escape crime.” Ursula spoke as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

      Rachel shrugged. “If the land’s standing empty, why doesn’t Wade sell and invest the profit?”

      “You got a lot to learn about Wade Garrett, girl. He never breaks a promise.” Ursula laughed with sardonic humor. “You got a lot to learn about working a ranch, too. If he sold that land, he’d lose his water rights.”

      Rachel glanced at the faucets on the sink. “But you have water.”

      “Without the river, Wade couldn’t water his cattle or the tree seedlings he’ll be planting soon. So without the river frontage, he might as well sell the whole kit and caboodle.”

      “Is Dad gonna sell the ranch?” a high, thin voice behind Ursula asked. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

      Ursula swiveled in her chair, allowing Rachel a view of a small boy standing in the doorway, his eyes red and swollen and his sooty cheeks tracked with tears. Even if she hadn’t known who he was, she would have recognized Jordan as a startling miniature of his father, less muscular and self-assured, but with the same heart-stopping good looks that would one day drive women wild.

      For now, he was a very frightened and unhappy little boy. Despite her act of bravado over her lost memory,

Скачать книгу