Big Sky Rancher (11 page)

Jennifer sat and held the baby against her breast. “I didn't have a lot of choice then. I suppose I thought if Lucas were really well-to-do, I'd be able to send for Susan, and Kyle might be satisfied with sending her to me if I paid him well enough.” She stood. “Now, where shall we put her? And how do we go about getting her cleaned up a little? Kyle must not have known what to do with a baby girl.”

“Might as well stick her in the bedroom Lucas occupied for part of the night once. That'll keep
him
where he belongs. As to washing that little one, we can wash up her clothes, too. What there are of them. We'll get her clean in a jiffy and then keep her that way.”

In the bedroom Lucas occupied for part of the night once
. Jennifer felt a blush cover her cheeks as she picked a phrase from Ida's words, and she buried her face in Susan's dark hair. “In the room Lucas slept in? I didn't know you heard him.”

“I don't miss much.” Ida's eyes held a wealth of mirth as she took cheesecloth from a drawer and wrapped the rounds of butter in square pieces of the loosely woven fabric. “You want to sell some of this in town? They're always in the market for some at the general store. Using a churn is a thing of the past for those women in town. I think they forgot how to use a dasher, about the same time most of them lost their knack of milking a cow.”

“You mean, I could actually get paid for working? For making butter and whatever else I can do to earn money?” Somehow the duties of cooking and cleaning assumed new meaning to her as Jennifer thought of using her newfound talents to her own advantage.

“Lots of ladies do pretty well with butter and egg money.”

“And they get to keep it? For themselves?”

“Why not?” Ida asked. “They're the ones who've earned it. Just like Sally Jo at the barbershop. She runs a good business there, and does pretty well at it. Women are starting to fend for themselves more and more these days.”

“Don't the people in town have farm animals of their own? Or isn't there room in the lots thereabouts for cows to be kept? I'd have thought some of those pieces of property are big enough for animals to be penned in.”

“Lots of folks have chickens, and a few of them raise a young bullock every year for butchering, but most of the ladies buy their milk and butter at the store. A couple of farmers take big five gallon containers of milk to town every couple of days. Some of them even sell it from the backs of their wagons.”

“Well, if I lived in town, I'd have a cow and chickens, too,” Jennifer said. “It's too expensive to buy everything you need at the store. Makes sense to me to provide your own.”

From the porch, she heard a hoot of laughter and then Lucas was in the door. “You'll make a farmer's wife yet, sweetheart. Next thing I know, you'll be doing all the chores.”

“Not on your life, Lucas O'Reilly. If I ever do all the chores, it'll be for myself. Not for some man's benefit.”

His hands went to his hips and he faced her with a frown. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“If I lived in town, I'd be sure I was still self-sufficient. I wouldn't be dependent on a man to provide for me.”

“Like you are now?” His smile was taunting.

“You don't think I could do it?” Her hair flew as she tossed her head.

“I think you'd give it a good shot. But a woman on her own doesn't stand much of a chance.” He sounded a bit arrogant, she thought, more than a little pompous, and anger began to seize her.

“We'll just see about that.” Recalling her conversation with Ida, she stated a fact that was fast becoming foremost in her mind. “I happen to know that Sally Jo runs her own establishment and has made a success of it.”

“She provides a service to the men of this area,” Lucas said, as if explaining facts to a child. “Hers is the only barbershop around, and the men need a place to go where they can clean up and get presentable after a hard week of working their claims.”

“And you don't think I'm capable of making a success of anything, do you?” She felt a pang of disappointment as he grinned at her.

“You're just beginning to make a success of being a wife, Jen. Don't push yourself beyond that.”

She bent her head, the flare of anger growing instead of
abating. She'd thought to simmer down and call it a draw, but his words tugged at her, challenged her, and she began to ponder on an idea that had lain dormant for several weeks.

If she could run this house, then a larger establishment would not be beyond her capabilities. Maybe a boardinghouse with paying tenants. And if she had help, someone like Mrs. Bronson to lend a hand and direct things, it might be a positive way to show Lucas that his wife was a capable woman, not a child to be scolded and talked down to.

They ate silently, Lucas apparently in a fit of pique, with Jennifer as its target. She was no better, having difficulty in keeping the pout from her lips, as she considered his high-handedness. The man needed taking down a bit. He was haughty, arrogant and several other things she couldn't put a name to right off.

The dishes were washed, dried and put away, Jennifer tending to the chore while Ida rocked Susan in a chair brought from the parlor for the purpose. She'd put it in front of the window and had been searching her memory for old hymns. Jennifer realized she'd missed being in church on Sundays, and vowed to rectify that situation forthwith.

Her hand was stinging from the hot dishwater, but she refused to pamper herself and so ignored the twinges of pain. Until Lucas came in the door, his chores finished, the animals brought in from pasture to the barn. He frowned, watching her as she stacked the plates in the kitchen dresser.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Taking my goldfish for a walk.” Her lips pressed together as he glared at her. “What does it look like I'm doing?”

“Let me see your hand.” As a request, it left a bit to be desired, she thought. And she was in no mood to take orders.

“My hand is fine. I'm busy right now, Lucas. Go tend to your horses, or something.”

“My chores are finished. Now I want to see how your hand is healing.”

“It's my hand. I'll see to it.”

He looked at Mrs. Bronson and found no help there. The lady ignored him, singing beneath her breath to the child she held.

A large kettle of water boiled on the stove and he shifted his attention there. “What are you going to do with the hot water?”

“Wash diapers. Susan uses a lot of them.”

“Tonight?”

“Actually, they should have been washed earlier, but since we didn't get to it, tonight will have to do, Lucas.”

“You can't do that. You'll open the sores on your hand.”

She narrowed her gaze as she looked daggers in his direction. “Don't tell me what I can or can't do, or you'll be in for a big surprise.”

He laughed harshly. “Not much you can do would surprise me, Jennifer.”

She dropped her eyes and placed the silverware in the drawer. “We'll see.”

The simple statement seemed to wave a red flag in front of him, and Jennifer likened him to a bull, raging and ready to attack. She wasn't too far off.

He stood behind her and his fingers clutched her shoulders. Her hands ceased their movement, her breath seemed captured in her lungs and she felt a resurgence of the panic that had gripped her when Kyle had seized her in much the same way.

“Don't.” The single word was whispered, the message clear, for it was accompanied by a shuddering chill that ran
the length of her spine and then manifested itself in a series of shivers.

His hands fell to his sides and he inhaled. “I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“You didn't. But not because there was no intent on your part,” she said. “You meant to frighten me, intimidate me, perhaps. It won't work, Lucas.” She went to Ida and took Susan from her. The baby's eyes were almost closed as she neared slumber.

The stairs were long as she climbed them, and the room she carried Susan into was barren of anything smacking of femininity, with no fripperies or frills to be seen.

“This will do for now,” she whispered to the baby, settling her on the bed. She sat beside her, stripped off her clothing and sorted through the small bundle Lucas had brought from town. “I'll get you some clothes tomorrow,” she said, soothing the child with soft tones and gentle touches as she changed a wet diaper and then bundled her up in a gown that hung well below her feet.

Padding the sheet so as not to allow a wet diaper to stain the mattress, she covered the little girl and lay down beside her. “Time to sleep, sweetie,” she murmured, waiting till Susan turned on to her stomach and began to relax. With one hand Jennifer patted gently at the narrow back, and she sang a song of nonsense beneath her breath.

 

T
HE MAN AT THE DOOR
watched silently, his mind focused on the woman in front of him. Would she stay the night with the baby or would she come to their bed later? Maybe she'd be going back downstairs to wash the diapers before bedtime, as she'd planned. Either way, she didn't stand a chance of getting out of his sight.

He retraced his steps to the kitchen, just in time to catch Ida lifting the heavy kettle of water from the stove. “I'll get that,” he told her. “Where do you want it?”

“Pour about half into this tub,” she instructed him. Using a saucepan, she added cold water from the pump and then gathered together the soiled diapers and clothing the child had worn throughout the day. Soap was added and Ida bent over the tub, sloshing the items in the hot water, and then lifting them, one piece at a time, to scrub them out on a small board she'd found in the pantry.

One by one she cleaned them, wrang them out and laid them aside. “Dump it please, Luc,” she said simply, and waited till he carted the tub out the door and splashed the water over the flowers that bloomed at the end of the porch.

“You need this again?” He carried it back in and, at her nod, carried the kettle of hot water back to dump in a goodly amount.

“Thanks.” It seemed she wasn't in a mood for small talk, and that was all right with him. He'd had all the talk he could handle for one night. If Jennifer didn't shape up and get the chip off her shoulder, he'd have to do something about it.

The sound of her footsteps coming down the stairs alerted him and he retrieved a length of clothesline from the pantry, wanting to appear busy. “You want this strung?” he asked Ida. She nodded and waved, her index finger pointing to three nails driven into the walls where he could hang the line. He did as she bade him, then sat to watch.

“Here, girl. Hang these while I finish rinsing, will you?” Her instructions to Jennifer were short and sweet, but the
girl
seemed to have no problem with taking orders from Ida. Apparently it was only her husband she defied with such an
abundance of insolence.
Insolent.
That was a good word, he decided.

When the baby's laundry was done and the tub dumped once more, Jennifer murmured a good-night to Mrs. Bronson and headed up the stairs, Lucas fast on her heels. He followed her into their bedroom and watched as she withdrew her nightgown from beneath her pillow. She shook it out, apparently deemed it wearable for another night and headed for the door.

He stood in front of it. “Where do you think you're going?” As if he didn't know.

“To sleep with Susan.”

“I don't think so.” It was an ultimatum. The woman could take it or leave it. If she defied him, he'd keep her in their own bed any way he had to. The bed in the other room held a baby girl, and unless she was sick or fussing as babies sometimes did, she'd sleep alone.

“Don't try to stop me.” Jennifer held the gown in front of herself as a shield and Lucas grinned.

“You're sleeping in my bed.” Leaving her no room to bicker, he frowned.

“I don't want to sleep with you. Besides, Susan needs me.”

“Susan is fine, sound asleep in fact. The one who needs you is me.”

“I don't want you to touch me.”

“Is that supposed to be something out of the ordinary?” he asked. “It seems you never change your tune, Jen. It's like you're a statue in a museum. Look but don't touch. And I'll tell you, lady, I'm tired of it.”

“Too bad.” She turned her back and unbuttoned her dress, then allowed it to drop to the floor, her petticoat fast behind it. The nightgown went over her head and he watched as she
maneuvered beneath its folds, removing the rest of her clothing. After picking up the bits and pieces and folding them neatly, she went to the bed and pulled back the sheet and quilt.

“I'm sleeping here, Lucas, but only because I don't want to air my anger in front of Ida. I'll figure something else out tomorrow.”

“I think maybe you ought to figure it out tonight,” he said, tossing his shirt aside, then beginning on his shoes and stockings. In moments, he'd stripped and occupied his half of the bed.

Jennifer blew out the candle beside the bed and covered herself. “Are you threatening me?”

“If you want to call it that. I'm just telling you that I'm tired of being the bottom man on the totem pole around here.”

“You're the
only
man around here.” She smiled as she spoke and he rolled to lie half atop her. Her smile disappeared and she caught her breath.

“Don't push me.” As a warning, it sounded pretty ominous, he thought. Anyone else would have taken heed. But not Jennifer.

She sat up, catching him off guard, and pushing him aside as she turned her head to face him. “I'd like to go to sleep, Lucas. I've had a long day and tomorrow isn't looking to be any better. Please just let me alone for now.”

He relented, not because he felt sorry for her, but because he recognized the truth in her statement. Antagonizing Jennifer wouldn't do his cause any good. She was already fit to be tied and he didn't want to push her any further.