The Cowboy's Surprise Bride

“Good boy. Now climb up to the table and let’s see what Linette can find to feed us.”

Grady edged around Eddie and sat as far away as the small space would allow.

Linette hadn’t moved from the window. She stared at Eddie, her eyes wide.

Had he done something wrong? Did she think he was out of place telling Grady to stop crying? Or—he stifled a groan—had he offended her by calling her by her Christian name? “I’m sorry. I meant Miss Edwards.”

“No, Linette is fine. Much more comfortable.”

Were her words rushed and airy? He jerked his gaze away in self-disgust. Less than twenty-four hours with two women and a child in his little cabin and he was already getting fanciful. He needed the company of some cows and cowboys.

But first, breakfast.

Linette again pulled the bowl of potatoes toward her and turned the slab of bacon over and over.

Eddie grabbed the butcher knife. “I’ll slice us off some pieces. You can fry them up.”

“Thank you.” She avoided meeting his eyes.

“I take it you’ve never seen bacon before.”

“I’m unfamiliar with the term and the format.”

He chuckled. She had a unique way of admitting she didn’t have a clue. “It’s the same as rashers in England.”

Understanding lightened her eyes. “You mean—” She pointed to the chunk of meat and watched with keen interest as he carved off thin slices. “That’s what rashers look like before they’re all crispy?”

He dropped the pieces into the hot fry pan. “They’ll soon be something you recognize.”

She stared at the sizzling pan. A heavy sigh left her lungs. “I told you I wasn’t a good cook, but I assure you I won’t have to be shown twice. In no time at all I’ll be creating culinary delights to warm your heart.”

A man needed a good feed, especially after working out in the cold. “I could continue to take my meals over at the cookhouse.”

Linette’s brow furrowed. “Are you suggesting I can’t manage? I’ll learn. You’ll see. Just give me a chance.” She sucked in air and opened her mouth to start again.

“Okay. Okay.” He held up his palm toward her to stop any further argument. “I’ll see how things go.” Besides, he could well imagine Cookie’s protests if he left the ladies alone and sought his meals with the rest of the crew. No, sir, he didn’t need to get a tongue-lashing from that direction. “Maybe Cookie will help you.”

Her shoulders sank several inches in relief and she let out a noisy gust. “Thank you. You won’t be sorry.”

He kept any contrary opinion to himself, but he’d been nothing but sorry since she’d landed on his ranch. He expected he’d be sorry until the day she left.

As he waited for her to prepare breakfast he went to the window and scratched a peephole in the frost. Slim and Roper hustled toward the cookhouse. They slid their attention toward the cabin, saw him peeking through the foggy glass and nodded as if they only wanted to say good-morning when he knew they burned up with curiosity.

“Um.” Linette sounded mildly worried. “Is it supposed to smoke like this?”

He spun around. The fry pan smoked like a smoldering fire. “It’s too hot. Pull it to the side.”

She reached for it without any protection on her hands.

“Wait. Don’t touch it.”

But her palm touched the hot handle and she jerked back with a gasp.

At that moment the pan caught fire.

Cassie jerked to her feet and pulled Grady after her as she retreated to the far corner, casting desperate looks at the door—their only escape route.

Linette danced about. “What do I do?” She grabbed a towel and flapped it.

“Stop. You’re only making it worse. Get out of the way.” He crossed the room in three strides, grabbed a nearby lid and clamped it over the pan. He snatched the towel from her hands, clutched the hot fry pan and dashed for the door. He jerked it open and tossed the sizzling pan into the snowbank. It melted down a good eight inches.

He tossed the towel to the table and grabbed her wrist. “Let me see that.” He turned her palm upward. The base of her fingers was red and already forming blisters. “Put snow on it.”

She seemed incapable of moving, so he pulled her to the door, grabbed a handful of snow and plastered the burnt area.

“Oh, that feels good.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Are you trying to burn the place down?”

She glowered back. “You could have told me this might happen.”

“Told you?” He sputtered and slowed his breathing. “You said you were prepared to be a pioneer housewife. But you can’t even fry bacon.”

“I most certainly can and will.” She marched past him and back to the house, grabbed the hunk of bacon and whacked off pieces, unmindful of the pain the burns surely gave.

Grady whimpered. Cassie pulled him close. “Shush, child.”

Linette gave the boy a tight smile. “Everything is fine, Grady. Don’t worry.”

Eddie watched her butcher the meat. “You’ll have a great time trying to fry those.”

“I’ll fry them.” Whack. Whack.

“Three days from now perhaps.”

She paused. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re cutting them too thick.”

“Fine.” She slowed down and methodically sliced narrow strips.

He went to retrieve the fry pan, scrubbing as much of the charcoal from it as he could with snow. “Practically ruined a perfectly good pot,” he muttered.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“Not a blame thing.” He took the burnt pot inside and poured boiling water into it then set to scrubbing it clean.

“I can do that,” she protested.

Somehow he doubted she was a fraction as capable as she tried to make him believe.

“I will make a great pioneer wife.” She spit the words out like hot pebbles.

“I’ve yet to see any evidence supporting that claim.” He held up his hand to silence her arguments. “It’s a moot point. I don’t need or want a pioneer wife.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“And yet I don’t seem to mind.” He again returned to the window and stared out. Spring was a distant promise. If the sun came out and stayed. If a Chinook took away the snow. If the stagecoach headed back to Fort Benton or even Edendale, Miss Edwards and her entourage would be on it.

But the snow continued to fall, shutting him in the tiny cabin with Miss Edwards and her entourage.

A few minutes later, she announced breakfast was ready.

Acrid smoke still clung to the air, drowning out any enticing aroma, but still she served up a passable meal. He’d had worse. A lot worse. Some from his own hands.

Afterward, Cassie favored him with a defiant look as she helped Linette clean up.

Life had gone from simple to challenging since Linette thrust herself into his home. He shifted his chair toward the stove and pulled out a newspaper that had come in yesterday’s package of mail. Linette and Cassie worked in silence and Grady huddled at the corner of the table, darting regular glances toward Eddie. The skin on the back of Eddie’s neck itched. He refused to scratch it, but like the presence of the others in the room, it would not go away. The walls of the cabin pushed at his thoughts. “I’m going to check on the stock.”

Grady nudged Linette and indicated he wanted to whisper in her ear.

She bent to hear his words. Her gaze slipped toward Eddie as she answered the boy. “Not yet.”

She straightened and returned her attention to the dishes.

Whatever Grady said had something to do with him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Linette replied.

He waited. He would not be ignored or dismissed in his own house.

Linette lifted one shoulder. “He wanted to know if you were taking him to see the horses.” She smiled down at Grady. “It’s still snowing heavily.”

Eddie studied the boy. The air around him vibrated with expectation—whether in anticipation of seeing the horses or fear of being told no, Eddie couldn’t be sure. Seemed the boy had every reason to expect rejection. “Grady, as soon as it’s decent out I’ll take you to the barn and you can visit the horses. It’s a deal.” He held out his hand. Perhaps the boy would trust him enough to shake, but Grady shrank back against Linette.

Eddie lowered his hand. “Well, then.” He grabbed his coat and ventured out into the cold. It would take time. Trust didn’t happen all at once.

The heavy wet snow reached his ankles. It would be even deeper farther up the mountains. If the men hadn’t been able to hold the herd... He refused to think of a disaster. Yet how many stories had he heard of cows driven by the wind, trapped in a box canyon, found dead in the spring?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.