Hill Country Courtship (Brides of Simpson Creek Book 8) Read online

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Meyer. I hope you still think the place would be in good hands if I managed it someday—and we all hope that’s a very long time from now,” she assured the boardinghouse proprietress. “No one’s saying I will be living at Five Mile Hill Ranch for the rest of my life. I’m going to go try it. If I don’t like it, I’ll be back.”

  ‘“Like it’?” Mrs. Meyer responded with a laugh that edged on hysteria. “What is there to like? What sane woman would like living clear out there with that tyrant and his harridan of a mother? What could have induced you to make such an insane deal, girl?”

  Just then Hannah set up a thin wail above them. After Maude went and got her, she returned to finish the conversation, picking it up just where they had left off. “This—little Hannah—induced me to take Mr. MacLaren’s offer,” she said, cuddling the sweet-smelling baby closer. “I want to give her a home, Mrs. Meyer, a home with me as her mother. It wouldn’t be fair to you or the boarders to make that home here, not when she’s up crying several times a night. And you wouldn’t have let Juana stay indefinitely to nurse her, would you? She can’t afford to pay rent.”

  Mrs. Meyer was too honest a woman to dodge the truth. “No, I haven’t survived this long running a boardinghouse with butter for a heart, Maude. Nothing can be free forever, not if I’m to make a living. And you’re right that the lodgers haven’t been best pleased about the baby’s cries during the night since she’s been born. I should have realized you’d seek that baby’s good over your own. But have you thought about what you’re doing to your good name, taking on the raising of that child?”

  Something in the older woman’s tone made Maude bristle. “What do you mean, Mrs. Meyer?”

  The other woman shrugged. “Well, what will men think of you? Will they be interested in courting a girl that has a child with no apparent father? You should have a care to your reputation, Maude.”

  A sharp bark of bitter laughter erupted before Maude could stifle it. “You mean, the hordes of men who hang around outside every night, just hoping for a kind word from Maude Harkey, will be discouraged and stop serenading me? Pardon me, but unless I’m mistaken, they stopped coming years ago, which is why I’m the president of a dwindling Spinsters’ Club and still unmarried, years after most of my friends have achieved their happily-ever-afters.

  “I believe thinking of how my non-existent suitors will react is what’s known as a ‘forlorn hope,’ so yes, I’m not exactly worried about my reputation. I’m twenty-five years old, Mrs. Meyer, and I want to be a mother to this innocent baby here, who at this moment has no one in the world to care for her but Juana and myself. And anyone who wants to question her parentage can deal with me on that issue.” She heard her defensive tone, but knew a foolish questioner would have a very poor time of it indeed.

  “I—I am sorry, dear,” Mrs. Meyer said. “You know, I only want what’s best for you. If that big oaf of a Scotchman doesn’t treat you right, you just come right back here. I’ll hold your room open till we’re sure it’s going to work out for you to stay on the ranch.”

  It was no light promise. Mrs. Meyer usually had a waiting list of folks wanting to board with her. “Thank you,” she murmured. It made Maude feel a little less fearful about being “collected” the next day to know that she had a place to come back to, if she needed it. But it didn’t make it any easier to think of leaving the place that had been her home for so long now.

  It was even harder to take her leave of Ella, who had been her best friend through all that time. “But if you’re leaving tomorrow, you’ll miss the wedding this weekend!” she wailed. “You were going to stand up with me! Can’t you ask him to wait till Sunday to come for you?”

  Hating that she had to say no, she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, really I am, Ella, but I need this new job in order to keep little Hannah,” she said, nodding toward the infant whom she’d brought with her. “He wasn’t pleased that I asked even for another day in town, to see to April Mae’s funeral. I was afraid he’d change his mind about hiring me altogether if I asked him to wait any longer. From what I understood, they desperately need the help out at Five Mile Hill Ranch as soon as they can get it.”

  Ella nodded with a sad but accepting smile. “I understand, Maude. I just wish you weren’t going so far away...” She took the contented baby onto her lap and smiled down at Hannah’s happy face. “But looking down at this little one, I really do think the change you’re going to be making will be worth it. This precious child deserves a mother as wonderful as you, and the ranch is certainly the best place for the two of you. I just wish Jonas MacLaren’s mother wasn’t notorious for being a shrew!”

  Maude chuckled. “It’ll be a challenge, I imagine, but that’s why the job is available. If she were sweet-tempered, they’d have already hired someone.”

  “It’ll be good for your character,” her friend said, tucking a red curl that had fallen out of Maude’s chignon back behind her friend’s ear. It had always been a joke between them that Maude had a true redhead’s temperament, just as Juana had said.

  “It will,” Maude agreed. “You’ll see—I’ll learn to hold my tongue and keep my temper. I’ll give Mrs. MacLaren no reason to complain of me, no matter how shrewishly she behaves.”

  “Hmm,” Ella said, noncommittally. Maude bristled.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing of consequence,” Ella said, mischief twinkling in her eyes. She focused her attention down on little Hannah. “You’ll like it at the ranch, won’t you, sweetheart? Yes, you will! You’ll have lots of fun! Because watching your mama learn to hold her tongue and keep her temper should be quite a show, indeed.”

  Chapter Five

  By one o’clock, MacLaren’s man had still not made his appearance. “Shall we eat dinner? Once we depart, we will not have the chance to eat again for many hours. Yet what if he appears right in the middle of the meal and expects us to take off that minute?” Juana fretted.

  “Never pass up food when it’s available. It’s a long ride out to Five Mile Hill Ranch, and if he arrives while we’re eating we’ll just invite him to sit down with us. Men never pass up a chance to eat.”

  Mrs. Meyer gestured them toward a table filled with steaming bowls of chili and bread still hot from the oven.

  “I’m going to miss your chili, Mrs. Meyer,” Maude told her.

  “I’ve taught you how to make it, girl. Anytime you have a hankering for it, just stir up some. Remember to use good stewed beef and lots of chili pepper, and don’t be shy with the jalapeños. If it doesn’t bite you when you lay a spoonful on your tongue—”

  “It’s not Mrs. Meyer’s chili,” the two finished in perfect unison, then giggled.

  Juana had still not taken her seat. “There he is, just as we figured,” she said, staring out the window to where a cloud of dust heralded a wagon coming toward them.

  A middle-aged man with thinning black hair and a dusty bandana slung low around his neck jumped down from the wagon with a lumbering grace, knocked hesitantly on the front door of the boardinghouse, then straightened and blinked in surprise as Juana went forward and opened the door to him.

  “Buenas tardes,” she said in lilting, melodious Spanish, and Maude was glad of all the Spanish words her father had made her learn so long ago. “I am Juana Benavides. You have come to take Miss Harkey, the baby and me out to Five Mile Hill Ranch, no? We were just having dinner. Won’t you sit down and have some chili with us before we go?”

  “Mucho gusto, senorita,” the man murmured, and Maude could see that he was much taken with the sight of the pretty Juana. “I would be happy to join you for your meal, of course. I am Hector Gonsalvo, Senor MacLaren’s segundo—his right-hand man,” he added in English, for Maude and Mrs. Meyer’s sake. “I did not know I would have the honor of two ladies’ company today.”

  Th
e man might as well have thumped his chest like a gorilla, he was so obviously impressed with his own importance.

  Maude sniffed. MacLaren better not think he could renege on the terms of the agreement, at this late stage. But perhaps he had just forgotten to tell Gonsalvo that he was hiring Juana, too. From the way the man was staring at Juana, it was clear that she was someone he would not quickly forget.

  He’d better not think he was going to start up a flirtation with her friend right under her very nose the first afternoon they met, Maude thought, intercepting an approving look from Gonsalvo with a glare. She wasn’t taking Juana Benavides away from all that was familiar to her to endanger her honor.

  “My friend Mrs. Benavides will be caring for baby Hannah,” Maude said tartly, nodding toward the cradle in which the baby lay dozing a few feet away. “She lost her husband and baby only a few days ago.”

  Gonsalvo blinked and looked at her, reminding her of a puppy who had just been scolded too harshly. “I can see the color she wears, senorita,” he said, nodding toward the unbroken black of Juana’s dress and the lace mantilla that covered her luxuriant mass of hair. “You need not doubt for a moment that I will treat her with utmost respect. I am a widower myself. I lost my Maria a year ago, but it seems like it was yesterday.”

  She shouldn’t have said anything, Maude knew now. She felt very small just now, while she assessed the world of sorrow behind the man’s dark eyes. When would she learn not to voice every suspicion she had in her head as soon as it bloomed there? Why didn’t she give people a chance to prove themselves before she made judgments about their intentions and motivations? Judge not, lest ye be judged...

  “I’m sorry for overreacting, Senor Gonsalvo. And I am sorry, as well, for your loss.” She saw a quick forgiveness in the dark eyes in his weathered face, and was relieved to think she had not made an instant enemy. Life on the ranch would be isolated in the extreme—she needed every friend she could get.

  “It’s all right, senorita,” he said. “It’s wise for a young lady not to be too trusting.”

  Are you warning me about your boss now? she wondered, then realized she was speculating on his motivation again.

  Stop it, Maude!

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Gonsalvo signaled he was done with his meal when he pushed his empty bowl away and wiped his mouth with the rough homespun napkin. After complimenting Mrs. Meyer on the food, he asked, “Was the burial of the unfortunate young mother of the baby accomplished this morning?”

  Maude nodded solemnly. It had been a lonely affair, attended by just her, Mrs. Meyer and Juana. While Mrs. Detwiler had brought some of her late roses to beautify the grave and Reverend Chapman had been especially eloquent about how not even a sparrow falls without the Lord knowing it, it was hard to think of pretty April Mae Horvath lying alone under the cold sod.

  “She has been laid to rest, yes,” she said.

  “The poor girl,” he murmured, then eyed Hannah, who was drowsing in Maude’s arms. “The poor orphan baby, as well...” The tall grandfather clock chose this moment to strike two, and Gonsalvo glanced meaningfully at it. “We must make preparations to depart very soon. It is a long way to Five Mile Hill Ranch, and there are some thunderheads brewing to the north that I don’t like the look of.”

  They were loaded onto MacLaren’s buckboard within the hour and said their last goodbyes to Mrs. Meyer and the others in the boardinghouse. Maude was touched by the solicitude Gonsalvo showed in making sure Juana and the baby were comfortably ensconced in a padded seat in the corner of the wagon bed with a canvas canopy over them, before MacLaren’s foreman clucked to the horses. They set off at a spanking trot eastward out of Simpson Creek. Several people she knew—Mrs. Patterson of the mercantile, Mr. Wallace at the post office, Mr. Amos at the bank—waved at her as they went past. How long would it be before she saw any of them again?

  They had not even begun the climb for which Five Mile Hill Ranch was named when the thunderhead let loose its burden, sending Juana whimpering as she dove farther under the makeshift canvas cover and clutched Hannah to her, while Maude held her parasol over the baby in an attempt to keep some of the icy November rain away from the quickly-sodden blanket. Gonsalvo tossed Maude his sombrero as a further shield for the baby, a gallant gesture, since it left the man’s head at the mercy of the elements, but other than that, there was nothing he could do to help them other than flick the whip over the horses’ shoulders to keep up their pace. There was nowhere for them to take shelter until they reached the ranch, which was still quite a distance away.

  Hannah didn’t approve of her dampness and let them know her displeasure in no uncertain terms. Time dragged at a snail’s pace as they tried, in vain, to soothe her. But finally, the seemingly endless hours of the journey came to an end before the ornate wrought-iron gates of the ranch. Gonsalvo pulled up on the horses, bringing them to a halt. Seemingly shocked by the sudden end of the movement that had rattled her around for so long, Hannah’s sobs cut off abruptly.

  Dusk had closed them around them like a damp, foggy shroud, making the foreman specter-like as he faced them in the gloom.

  “We are finally here,” he said, pointing to an imposing fieldstone house. “Inside, the MacLarens will have a warm fire and dry clothes, as well as food for us. No doubt little Hannah will rest well once she is no longer cold and her stomach is full.”

  If she got the chance to lie down, she might never find the strength to rise again, Maude thought, dazed at the sudden cessation of motion and outraged wailing that had accompanied her past several hours of existence.

  “Come in the house, all of you,” called a woman who appeared to those in the courtyard only as a wavering shadow, backlit by the flickering of the fire inside. “Umberto is coming to care for the beasts, Hector. We’ve been looking for you these past two hours—Senora Coira’s angry at the lateness, I warn you.”

  “The road’s awash in several places between here and Simpson Creek, Senora Morales. Even their William Wallace couldn’t have made better time.”

  So this was the housekeeper who’d been threatening to quit, Maude thought.

  “Be careful of playing fast and loose with the name of their hero,” the woman warned darkly.

  Maude wondered where Jonas MacLaren was. So far he’d ruined his chance to give them a proper welcome, but she supposed the master of such a great estate didn’t go wetting his precious head for just anyone. Besides, he couldn’t have known exactly when to expect them, and likely had many duties that kept him occupied all over the ranch. But now, as Hector assisted first Juana and Hannah, and then herself, to descend the slippery sides of the wagon safely, she saw a tall, elegant figure emerge from the shadows at the massive carved-wood doorway.

  “Welcome to Five Mile Hill, Miss Harkey. I trust you’re none the worse for wear after your journey? Unfortunate weather you had, to be sure,” he said, his rolled Rs swirling around her like a velvet cloak warmed at the fire. “I imagine you’re soaked to the skin.”

  “Thank you for the welcome, Mr. MacLaren. There’s nothing wrong with me that dry clothes, a hot drink and a good night’s sleep won’t put right, I expect,” she said, assuming a cheerfulness she was far from feeling. She had so hoped to make a good impression on his mother, but how was that to happen when her careful twist of hair had long ago devolved into a soggy wet mass that dripped a goose-bump-raising chill down the neck of her dress?

  He made an attempt at a smile. “That’s the spirit, lass. Food and dry clothing are to be had in abundance inside,” he said, gesturing that she was to hurry. “I trust the little one made the journey all right?” His eyes seemed to search the occupants of the buckboard, who were now all milling about under the shelter of the ranch house’s eaves.

  Maude found his mentioning Hannah without being prompted—for the babe had not resumed her wailing as yet—
encouraging. “Well enough, though she’s in sore need of the same creature comforts we all are.”

  “Come in, come in!” screeched a tall, thin woman swathed in a colorful length of plaid from the doorway. “No one’s waiting for an engraved invitation, are ye? You’ll only be getting wetter while you tarry there. Step lively, now—unless you like being cold and hungry!”

  That must be the famous Coira MacLaren, Maude thought, as she swept forward with Juana and the baby and Jonas MacLaren toward the glowing maw of the door. Who else would suggest they wanted to linger outside in the cold and wet?

  Maude felt the warmth of the house close around her like a well-fitting glove as she peered at the spare woman with the fading ginger hair and thin, bony neck. “Thank you, Mrs. MacLaren,” she said, determined not to be a mouse in front of this formidable woman. “I’m Maude Harkey, and I thank you for being willing to have us come.”

  Cold blue eyes assessed her, then shifted on as if they’d seen enough. “And where’s this squalling bairn of whom I’ve heard so much?” she asked.

  Maude saw Juana grow rigid at the woman’s labeling of the baby they had both come to love so dearly. Though she sympathized with her friend’s sense of outrage, she still hoped Juana would let the remark pass. Woman, you have no idea what you’re missing, she thought, then had to struggle not to smile. Her ears were still savoring the lack of strident noise. Juana straightened, and with grave dignity, presented the now quiet, alert child for the older woman’s perusal. Maude gave thanks that the child had stopped the eldritch screeching that she’d been doing for the past few hours.

  “Pretty little thing. Too bad about her parents,” Coira MacLaren said with a sniff, after a quick examination. “Though it’s still to be supposed, I’m informed, that the father will turn up?”