Hill Country Courtship (Brides of Simpson Creek Book 8) Page 5

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod.

  Why was he speaking so formally? She knew as well as he did what had transpired in their conversation that day. Why did he feel he had to restate the case, as if he were some starchy-collared lawyer?

  He cleared his throat again. Should he just come right out and ask her once more if she would be willing to take the job she had seemed so opposed to before, as if he just assumed that she would have reconsidered and decided to take him up on it? As if by coming here today, he was merely sparing her the trip out to Five Mile Hill Ranch to ask him if the job was still open?

  No. It might be too easy for her to take offense if he took that approach. Better to be honest, to lay all his cards out on the table, so she would feel as if she was the one doing him the favor. Which she would be, of course. He’d make that clear, too. She deserved to know what she was in for if she accepted the position.

  He turned to face her. “Miss Harkey, I beg you to reconsider. We need you—my mother needs you—very much. If I don’t return with at least a promise that you will come and help us, our housekeeper will quit. I have a ranch to run, ma’am, and all I’m getting done is pacifying Senora Morales so that she will stay one more hour, one more day.”

  Miserably, he let his gaze drop to his hands once again. Maude Harkey was going to refuse once more, he was certain of it. He would have to retreat to his fallback position, which was pleading with her to introduce him to one of her friends who might be willing to take on the job she would not accept.

  “Actually, Mr. MacLaren,” Maude said, “my...um, circumstances have changed since the barbecue in such a way that I would be willing to take the position you have offered.”

  It was a moment before his mind caught up with the fact that she was accepting, not rejecting his offer. He was so surprised that a heartfelt thank You, God almost escaped his lips. Almost. It was bad enough he’d used the word beg. His pride was a bruised and battered thing now, after everything that had happened to him, but he clung to it all the same, as any Scotsman would. Stooping to begging grated on him, as necessary as it had been. It would have been disastrous if he’d actually thanked the Lord aloud, as if he’d been drowning and she’d been the one to throw him a rope. He had to remember that he would be her employer, and as such would need to get and keep the upper hand from the first.

  “Thank you.” He was pleased to note that he sounded completely normal. “How soon would you—”

  She held up a hand. “But I have conditions upon which my acceptance must be based, before we can be in total agreement, Mr. MacLaren.”

  Now who sounded like a starchy-collared lawyer? “Conditions?” he echoed, suddenly wary.

  “Yes, conditions. After the barbecue, a young girl presented herself here at the boardinghouse in the middle of the night, soaked to the skin, and—forgive me for being plainspoken, Mr. MacLaren—in an advanced stage of labor. She sought the father of the baby, a traveling merchant who often stays here on his rounds, but her timing was unfortunate. He had left Simpson Creek just that morning and has not returned since. That night, she gave birth to a baby girl, and all seemed to be well.”

  He stared at her, trying to make sense of her story. Why was she telling him this?

  “What does this have to do with me, Miss Harkey, and the job I have offered you?” he asked.

  She turned very blue eyes on him. “Unfortunately the baby’s mother died of childbed fever, Mr. MacLaren, just a little while ago—leaving baby Hannah, for all intents and purposes, an orphan. I am resolved to keep her and raise her as my own, assuming the father doesn’t turn up and want to take responsibility, which I highly doubt will happen. My acceptance of the position you offer is contingent on being allowed to keep baby Hannah with me at your ranch—and to bring Juana Benavides, a young widow, with me to nurse the child. Senora Benavides’s baby was stillborn the same day she lost her husband, the same night that Hannah was born—you see, so she is able to feed the child.”

  Now that he was beginning to grasp the enormity of what Maude Harkey was asking him, he marveled at her audacity. And it didn’t help just then that said infant chose this moment to start squalling from upstairs, loud enough to wake the dead.

  “You’re expecting me to let you bring a wailing baby to the ranch house—and a Mexican woman to feed her?”

  Those blue eyes narrowed. “Senora Benavides is as Texan as you are—actually more so, since as you told me you come from Scotland and her forebears lived here long before Anglo colonists came. Juana is a Tejana, Mr. MacLaren, not a Mexican.”

  Her attempt to shame him—or at least that was what he thought had motivated her last words—sparked irritation in him. “You can call her anything you want, Miss Harkey—”

  She went on as if he had not spoken. “And it’s not as if Juana would do nothing more than nurse the baby, Mr. MacLaren. She is quite willing to help your housekeeper with her duties, whenever she is not caring for little Hannah.”

  “Miss Harkey, I did not come here prepared to hire two servants,” he informed her, determined to regain control of the situation. “Or to invite the presence of a screaming infant in my house. I’m looking for more peace and quiet, not less.”

  Above them, the baby’s wailing suddenly ceased.

  Maude Harkey smiled. “There, you see? She was probably just hungry. Babies’ wants are simple, Mr. MacLaren, and once satisfied, they stop crying. I will pay Senora Benavides out of my wages for the first week, until you see what a good worker she is.”

  “It’s out of the question, Miss Harkey.” He could only imagine the explosion of temper from his mother if he returned with not only the promised companion for her, but a noisy infant and her wet nurse.

  Maude stood, her posture as stiff as any general about to order a charge. Her blue eyes blazed icy fire at him. “Then my coming to be your mother’s companion is out of the question, as well, Mr. MacLaren,” she said. “Good day to you.”

  He recognized defeat when he saw it. Worse than his mother’s wrath at the compromise he was being forced to make would be the consequences of returning to Five Mile Hill Ranch empty-handed. Not only would it enrage his mother, it would also signal the exodus of Senora Morales. He certainly couldn’t stay inside and take over that woman’s duties. Perhaps if he portrayed the deal as getting two servants for the price of one? The housekeeper, he knew, could use the help. She was no longer a young woman, and keeping the house clean and getting meals on the table three times a day was no small task.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “You may bring the infant and her w—that is, her foster mother,” he said, feeling himself redden at almost saying the phrase “wet nurse” to a lady.

  Apparently she didn’t like “foster mother” either, judging by the way she lifted her chin.

  “I will be little Hannah’s mother,” she said. “The only mother she will ever know.”

  Jonas thought he glimpsed a longing deep within those blue eyes, but he ignored it. He didn’t want to think too much about Maude’s softer qualities. Forcing an all-business tone to his voice, he said, “Very well, Miss Harkey. But being a mother to this baby must not interfere with your duties as my mother’s companion.”

  She nodded, gracious in victory. “It won’t.”

  “How soon can you be ready to leave?” he asked, hoping she would be that uncommon female who could pack quickly. If she was able to ready herself within the next hour, then with any luck, they might even reach Five Mile Hill Ranch before full dark, and he wouldn’t have to make another trip.

  “We will have to remain here in town for Hannah’s mother’s burial,” she told him. “I haven’t spoken to the undertaker yet, but the earliest that could possibly take place would be tomorrow morning. So we could possibly return with you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Possibly? Miss Harkey, I think I’ve mor
e than met you halfway by agreeing to accept the baby and her—Mrs. Benavides,” he snapped. “My mother’s need for a companion is urgent and cannot brook any delay. I fail to see why it’s necessary for you to remain for the burial of a girl you barely knew rather than coming to the ranch to begin work immediately.”

  “Because April Mae Horvath—that’s the name of the girl who died—has no one, Mr. MacLaren,” she said. “That’s why. Her parents disowned her when they learned she was in the family way, and her sweetheart abandoned her. Those of us who spent the past few days caring for her...we were strangers, but we were all she had. And someday, I must be able to look my daughter in the eye and tell her that her birth mother wasn’t put in the ground with no one present but the preacher and the grave digger.”

  There was a steely resolve in her tone that brooked no argument. He rose. “Very well, Miss Harkey. I’ll send a wagon and one of my men to collect you, the others and your effects tomorrow afternoon. You and Mrs. Benavides should be ready to go. Good day to you.” He nodded to her, then found his way to the door, feeling her gaze on him until it closed behind him.

  Maude Harkey was a troublesome, headstrong female and no mistake. He felt as if battle had just been joined and he had not come out the victor. At best, they had fought to a draw and then postponed further hostilities for another day. He had to admire her ethics, though. Not many women would consider it their moral duty to attend the burial of a girl they’d only known for a few days, especially one who’d been foolish enough to believe a man’s empty promises and end up with child.

  He considered taking a room in the hotel and waiting for her in town, but knew instinctively that spending some twenty-four hours cooling his heels in a rented room would make him restless as a caged wolf. The thought of paying good money for a lumpy, strange bed didn’t appeal to him, either, and he wasn’t the sort to while away the hours drinking whiskey and gambling in a saloon.

  Going back to the ranch and sending Hector with the buckboard the following day would be better. Jonas would have time to prepare his mother for the arrival of not only her new companion, but two unexpected additional people. Maybe this way Coira MacLaren would have a chance to vent the worst of her spleen before her new companion’s arrival.

  There was the added benefit that Jonas wouldn’t have to force himself to make conversation with Maude Harkey on the long drive to Five Mile Hill Ranch. There was something about the woman that got under his skin—and that was a dangerous symptom. He had no intention of letting a woman muddle his head ever again.

  Excepting, of course, his irritable, irrepressible, unignorable mother, whose endless litany of complaints echoed through his mind night and day.

  Did Maude Harkey wonder why he put up with his mother’s difficult behavior, or did she just assume he paid as much attention to the Fifth Commandment—to honor one’s parents—as much as the others? She’d wonder more after she met the woman, that was sure.

  As his mother’s only child, it fell to him to care for Coira MacLaren. He was indebted to her for his existence—in more ways than one. His debt to his mother was too great to leave her to fend for herself. He was a man grown and then some, but he’d never forget he owed the woman his very survival. He’d keep her secret—their secret—forever.

  He would not shirk his duty to ensure her well-being in return, even if the weight of the load sometimes felt like more than he could bear. He had no choice but to carry it alone. He had no siblings living to help him, and there was not—would never be—a wife to share his life, to halve his burdens and double his joys.

  What had happened in the past had kept him from marriage, both before the war and since. He wouldn’t subject a wife to the kind of man he was likely to become as his father’s son.

  * * *

  Juana found Maude beating the kitchen rug, which she’d hung on the line, as if she meant to smash it into clumps of thread. Particles of dust flew from the abused rug at the ferocity of her blows.

  “Maude, what are you doing? I expected you to come back upstairs and tell me what the man said. Instead I find you trying to murder a rug, no?”

  Maude turned to the young widow, realizing she was out of breath and that her right shoulder ached with the exertion. Perhaps she had been beating the rug just a hair too vigorously. “N-no,” she panted, but couldn’t smother a chuckle at the thought of murdering a rug.

  “Oh, Juana, h-he just makes me so angry! Not only did he expect us to drop everything and leave with him this very day, but after I explained that out of decency I needed to attend April Mae’s burial first, he said he’d send a wagon to come and collect us tomorrow afternoon—as if we were sacks of flour! Honestly, if I didn’t need to provide a home for little Hannah, I’d tell him he could take his wagon and drive right off a cliff!”

  She wasn’t about to tell Juana how MacLaren had bridled at the idea of taking her and baby Hannah, too. Juana might well refuse to go if she felt that she would not be welcomed at the ranch—and who could blame her? Then the whole plan would fall apart. A home for Hannah would do no good if there was no way to see to the child’s needs at the ranch.

  Juana studied her, worry furrowing her brow. “Mi amiga, you have the temper of a true pelirroja, a redhead. And you are overheated,” she said, reaching out to brush a red curl that had escaped from Maude’s coiffure away from her damp forehead. “Come sit down on the porch for a moment and I will fetch us some lemonade. Then you can tell me all about the man and what he said. I would like to know more about where we will be going tomorrow. Remember, you only told me we might be going to live on a ranch.”

  Maude felt her fury slipping away like an ebbing tide in the face of Juana’s calm. She did owe her new friend an explanation. With a guilty start, she realized she had not even asked Juana if she would mind the additional duties, on top of Hannah’s care, before offering her assistance to the housekeeper. “Is Hannah asleep?”

  Juana nodded. “Mrs. Meyer said she would listen for her. I will fetch the lemonade and then you will tell me all, yes?”

  “Yes,” Maude agreed. “And thank you, lemonade sounds lovely.”

  And it was lovely, indeed, when Juana returned with the two glasses moments later. After a few refreshing sips to restore her calm, Maude began her tale.

  “He sounds proud as a Spanish grandee,” Juana said sometime later, when Maude had told her the full story, from their meeting at the Spinsters’ Club barbecue to MacLaren’s final words about sending a man with a wagon to “collect” them.

  “And yet he tolerates his mother behaving like a tyrant, apparently.”

  Juana shrugged. “She is his mother. He respects her.” It seemed to be explanation enough for her.

  “I wonder if that’s the only reason? And why is he so high-handed about everything?”

  Juana muttered something in Spanish. “That is our equivalent of your Anglo saying, ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’ If his mother likes to give orders, then perhaps that is why he does, as well. What he needs is a wife to keep him in line. I wonder why such a handsome man is not married? I peeked from the window upstairs when he was leaving,” she admitted with a chuckle. “He is so tall...and his bearing—like a king!”

  “Who’d marry such an arrogant man?” Maude retorted, though she had to admit to herself that Juana was right about MacLaren’s appearance. It was a pity his personality wasn’t as pleasing as his looks. “Even if some woman has considered it, his mother probably scared her off.”

  Juana laughed, and Maude let herself laugh with her. She felt her earlier tension dissolving.

  “Maude, don’t worry. It will be all right. You will learn to deal with his mother, and little Hannah will have a place to grow up with you. And who knows? We may even come to like it there.”

  Maude blinked at the other woman’s unquestioning acceptance. “You don’t min
d that I told him you would help the housekeeper? I’m sorry that I didn’t even ask you first.” She had taken so much for granted.

  Juana shrugged. “I was busy from dawn to dusk running our household when Tomás was alive. I don’t think I would enjoy being idle. I will be happy to help Senora Morales, when the little niña doesn’t need me. And now, if you don’t mind, I had better go tell my mother what I will be doing and take my leave of the family. I will take little Hannah with me. Mama will be so busy admiring her that she won’t think to object to my going so far away, I hope,” Juana added with a wink.

  “And I had better tell Mrs. Meyer what we’ll be doing, then check with Reverend Chadwick to make sure he can do the funeral service in the morning,” Maude said.

  Perhaps the preacher would have some wise counsel on how to deal with people such as the MacLarens, mother and son. What had she been thinking, to take on such a challenge? Was she at all suited to be a companion, much less to a woman of strong temper who would need soothing? She wasn’t the sweet and agreeable type full of soft answers that turned away wrath. She could be as fiery as her red hair and as full of opinions as a cactus was of stickers. But she had to make a success of this, or she would have no place to live with little Hannah.

  Lord, help me! I’m taking on the impossible!

  She shook away the thought. She had to remember that with the Lord, all things were possible.

  Even putting up with Jonas MacLaren.

  * * *

  Mrs. Meyer was predictably dismayed when she learned of Maude’s plans. “Maude, I was planning on you inheritin’ the boardinghouse when I die, since my children don’t want to move back here and take it on. I thought of us as partners here. Was that nothing to you? Now you’re going to go somewhere else, leaving me behind?”

  She saw hurt and insecurity lining the woman’s red-rimmed eyes, and felt a moment of regret at causing her pain. Truly, the woman had been kind and generous to her from the start. And the boardinghouse was a good, honest business. It just wasn’t the right business for Maude—not right now, with the responsibility for Hannah’s care resting on her shoulders.