Love Inspired Historical June 2014 Bundle: Lone Star Heiress\The Lawman's Oklahoma Sweetheart\The Gentleman's Bride Search\Family on the Range (16 page)

She swiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then took the dipper from him. After gulping down a nice long drink, she stood. “All right. I could stand to enjoy a patch of shade for a few minutes.”

Instead of going to the house as he'd expected, Ivy headed for the oak tree and sat down on the swing, but didn't set it in motion.

He followed and leaned back against the trunk of the tree.

“I wonder what Nana Dovie is doing right now,” she said dreamily.

“She's probably wondering the same about you.”

“Probably.” She absently scratched Rufus's ear. “She's having to take care of all the chores herself while I'm gone.”

He could hear the worry in her voice and he wanted to comfort her. But he dare not risk a repeat of what had happened yesterday.

“If things work out with this inheritance,” she mused, “I'll be able to do some things to make our life easier. Rebuild the barn and purchase a wagon. Get a new milk cow. Maybe even get a newfangled washing machine.”

“Those are all good investments. But isn't there something you want for yourself? Maybe buy some nice clothes or take a trip?”

She looked affronted. “Are you saying my dresses aren't nice?”

Had he insulted her? “No, no, not at all,” he said hastily. “I only meant—”

She laughed. “I was just teasing, I know what you meant. My clothes are just fine for the life I live. And I wouldn't want to go off traveling without Nana Dovie, and she's not one for leaving the farm.”

“You mentioned that once before.” He left it at that, not wanting to press.

“It's the strangest thing. She's always been something of a homebody. But when I was younger she also enjoyed her weekly trips to the mercantile and going to church. And she was always the first one to visit a family who was in need of comfort. But lately...”

Her voice trailed off and she set the swing in a lazy, dragging motion before she continued.

“Lately she hasn't been able to leave our place. She's tried—even went so far as to climb up in the wagon once or twice. It's not that she doesn't want to leave, it's that she can't seem to make herself leave. She's even stopped going to church.”

So that meant Ivy was tethered to the farm, as well. As anxious as she was about returning, perhaps this time away was good for her.

The soft vulnerability of her demeanor had him once more longing to comfort her. This time it was harder to push away thoughts of yesterday's embrace. But a heartbeat later her mood had shifted as she suddenly popped up off the swing, startling Rufus into a surprised yelp.

Mitch straightened immediately. The stricken look on her face had him taking a half step in her direction.

“Oh, my goodness. I forgot to get lunch started.”

Mitch relaxed. “Is that all?”

“Is that all?” She waved a hand in dismay. “It's the job you hired me for, isn't it?”

“There's nothing that says you have to cook something to prepare a meal. Many's the day I've had a cold lunch. Some cheese and fruit will be adequate. I told you, I'm a man of simple tastes.”

She sniffed disdainfully. “It may be too late to cook a proper lunch, but I think I can do better than
that.
”

“Be that as it may, what I'm paying you for is to do some work around here. And you've definitely earned your wages this morning,” he assured her.

She nodded, then halted. “That reminds me of something I wanted to do.”

He watched as she turned and headed toward the back of his lot, Rufus trotting at her heels. What was she up to?

She walked all the way to the fence where the weeds had taken over. To his surprise, she started picking wildflowers. When she had an armful, she headed back. “Aren't these beautiful?”

He looked over her bounty of posies dubiously. It was a mismatched lot that seemed composed mostly of weeds. But she had such a pleased look on her face that he found himself nodding. “What do you plan to do with them?”

“Why, brighten up your house, of course.” She hefted her burden of blooms. “I suppose it's too much to hope you have a vase or two?”

When he shook his head she merely smiled. “That's okay. I can use a glass or jar. Won't it be nice to have such a happy splash of color in the house?

“Very nice indeed.” But the splashes of color he was thinking about were the sparkling green of her eyes, the pink in her freckled cheeks and the soft auburn of her hair.

Being trapped on that farm was a hardship for her, that much had been obvious in her demeanor when she spoke of it. Surely there was something he could do to free her?

The fact that by doing so it might free her to live here in Turnabout was merely an incidental benefit.

* * *

By the next morning, Mitch was certain he was better prepared to keep an appropriate distance between himself and Ivy. She arrived right on schedule and went about preparing breakfast while he sat at the table with his newspaper, and the conversation was appropriately inconsequential.

He escaped to his study right after breakfast, channeling his edgy feelings into his sketching for a few hours. He was still there when he heard a knock at the front door.

“I'll get it,” he called back to Ivy.

Who in the world could that be? Had Reggie decided to send additional cuttings? He'd had no visitors except deliverymen in the two years he'd been here, and now two visitors in two days? It seemed his life was changing in more ways than he'd imagined as a result of letting Ivy into it.

His smile faded as soon as he opened the door.

Hilda Swenson stood on his front porch, along with her three boys.

What in the world was she doing here?

Chapter Sixteen

“M
ay I come in?”

Mitch opened the screen door wider, though in fact that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Of course.”

His visitor turned to her sons. “Peter, keep an eye on your brothers. I won't be long.”

“Yes, Momma.”

As she stepped inside, she sighed dramatically. “They're good boys, but it is
so
hard on them not having a father in their lives.”

Mitch ignored her very obvious hint and ushered her into his parlor. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Swenson?”

“Oh please, how many times must I ask you to call me Hilda?” Her gaze scanned the room, seeming to miss nothing. “I hope you don't think it forward of me to come calling, but now that you have a
housekeeper,
” she said, with a note of false enthusiasm in her voice, “I decided there could be no hint of impropriety. And it was something that could not wait.”

“And what might that be?”

“My oldest son, Peter, will move up to your class next year. And I'm afraid his mathematical skills are not at the level they should be. Miss Whitman suggested I have him work with a tutor this summer.”

Janell Whitman was Turnabout's other schoolteacher. She worked with the younger students and Mitch with the older ones. He considered her a good teacher—by the time students moved from her classroom to his they were well prepared.

“If Miss Whitman suggested it, then I'm confident that is what you should do. Would you like me to provide the names of some of my students who would make good tutors? There are several excellent candidates.”

“Actually, I was hoping you would take the job.”

Mitch stilled. Was she using her children to get to him?

But Mrs. Swenson seemed not to have noted his reaction. “Peter will respond much better to an adult than to a young person. I would help him myself, but I'm afraid I have no head for numbers,” she said as if it were something to be proud of. “My talents are much more feminine and domestic.”

Mitch tried to maintain an impassive demeanor. “Surely there is someone else in town—”

She didn't let him finish. “My boy deserves to have the very best. And who better than a schoolmaster? Since Miss Whitman will be out of town most of the summer, that leaves you.”

She sat without invitation, obviously planning to stay awhile. “Besides,” she added coyly, “this will give the two of you an opportunity to get to know each other before school starts. You'll find Peter is a very attentive student, eager to learn.”

So why had he fallen behind? But Mitch refrained from asking that aloud. “This is what I'll do. I'll give Peter a set of problems to work on at home. I'll look over his work when he's done and assess what kind of help he needs.”

She flashed a bright smile. “That sounds more than fair. Peter will benefit from the extra attention, I'm sure of it.”

Mitch stood. “If you'll excuse me, I'll write down the problems for him.”

“Of course. Take your time—I don't mind waiting.”

Trying to ignore the victory in her voice, Mitch headed to his study. As he pulled out a piece of paper, he heard voices coming from the yard. Glancing out the window, he spotted Ivy and Rufus entertaining the three boys. He watched, enjoying the uninhibited abandon with which she joined in their play.

It was several minutes before he remembered what he'd stepped into his study to do. Turning back to his desk, he carefully wrote out the arithmetic problems. As he worked, the sound of laughter and horseplay drifted in through the window. He'd heard that same sound many a time from his classroom.

But he'd never before been as tempted to join the participants as he was today.

Mitch finally leaned back and studied the list of problems. Satisfied that it was complete, he returned to the parlor only to find his guest examining his things. Strange—when Ivy had done that, it hadn't really bothered him. But the widow's actions struck him as intrusive.

When she looked up and spotted him, she smiled as if there was nothing to be embarrassed about. “Your home could certainly use a woman's touch.”

“I like to keep things simple.”

She laughed and it was a very soft, feminine sound. Nothing like the boisterous joy of Ivy's laugh.

“Isn't that just like a man?” she said archly. “But if a woman ever puts her mark in here—softer curtains, flowers, a few delicate bits of bric-a-brac—you'd wonder why you ever resisted.”

What would she think of the wildflowers Ivy had added to his kitchen and study?

He handed her the papers he'd brought with him. “Ask Peter to work on these and bring them back to me tomorrow.” Then he remembered tomorrow was Ivy's day off. And he'd rather not be alone when the woman returned. “Make that the day after. And I would caution you not to help him.”

She placed a hand over her heart. “I wouldn't dream of it.” Then she fluttered her lashes. “Besides, as I said, I have no head for numbers.”

Did she honestly think that made her more attractive to him? “Then I'll see you on Thursday.”

Her nose wrinkled. “What's that smell?” Then her eyes widened in alarm. “My goodness, is something burning?”

Mitch sniffed the air, then turned abruptly and raced for the kitchen. He knew what had happened even before he pushed open the door. Ivy must have been distracted by the children and left something on the stove for too long.

Sure enough, when he entered the kitchen, smoke billowed from the stove grates. Grabbing a cloth, he opened the oven door and pulled out the now blackened lump of what had undoubtedly been a loaf of bread. Wanting to get the still-smoking mess out of the house, he headed for the back door, pushing it open with his hip.

Ivy glanced up as soon as he stepped outside. The expression on her face would have been comical if she hadn't looked so stricken.

He tossed the blackened mass from the pan toward the fence. Rufus rushed over to check it out, but after one good sniff, he gave a violent sneeze and bounded away again.

Ivy approached the porch like a student caught passing notes. “I am
so
sorry—I lost track of time.”

“Nothing to get distressed over. I've eaten meals without bread before—it won't hurt me to do so again.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth “Oh, my goodness, the stew!” She gathered her skirts and rushed to the back door. “I hope I haven't ruined that, as well.”

Mitch barely managed to get the door open for her before she raced inside. Then she halted abruptly.

Following close behind, he caught sight of what had stopped her in her tracks.

Hilda stood at the stove, stirring the contents of the pot, looking for all the world as if she were the lady of the house.

“Hello, dear.” Both her tone and smile were condescending. “I hope you don't mind. I added some water to the pot to keep it from burning.” She tapped the spoon on the rim of the pot before setting it on the spoon rest. “I think I got to it just in time. And I hope you don't mind but I also added a pinch of salt and rosemary to it. It was rather bland, and a worldly man like Mr. Parker surely likes flavor in his food.”

“Thank you,” Ivy said evenly, “but I'll take over now.”

“Of course. I was just trying to help.” Her smile took on a feline quality. “You seem to have been otherwise occupied.”

Mitch sensed Ivy's stiffening and quickly stepped forward. “I'll see you and Peter on Thursday, then.”

Mrs. Swenson turned to Ivy. “I'm sorry if my boys distracted you, my dear. When you're a mother yourself someday, you'll learn how to manage both a home and children.”

Mitch took the woman's elbow and ushered her from the room before Ivy could respond. “Allow me to escort you to the door. I'm certain your sons are eager to reclaim your attention.”

By the time Mitch returned, Ivy stood at the sink, scrubbing the blackened bread pan with great determination. She paused a moment to glance his way. “I'm truly sorry.”

“You don't have to keep apologizing. As I said, it's really nothing to concern yourself over. I've burned more than one meal myself.” He tried to shift the focus to something more positive. “You seemed to enjoy entertaining those boys.”

Her expression softened. “I did. They came to the kitchen door and asked if it was okay to play with Rufus. I told them yes, but then Davey, the youngest, seemed a little afraid, so I went out to put them at ease. I'd only meant to be a minute, but then Davey asked me to push him on the swing.

“They're good boys,” she continued as she returned to her scrubbing. “A little too quiet for young'uns, but they relaxed after a bit. Andy, the middle boy, really took to Rufus. They don't have a dog of their own, but it sure sounded as if they'd like to have one.”

She'd make a good mother someday, he decided. A sudden image of her with a babe in her arms and a toddler at her feet flashed through his mind with the clarity of one of his sketches. The sweet tenderness of it nearly took his breath away.

“I'm not off to a very good start, am I?”

It took him a minute to focus on her meaning. “I wouldn't say that.”

“You're kind, but yesterday I fed you a cold lunch and today I burned the bread to a charred lump.”

He didn't like the defeat in her eyes. “Look at it this way—it hasn't been boring.” He'd meant that as a bit of levity, but he realized it was true. His life had been turned upside down since she entered it, but he hadn't felt so alive in a very long time.

“I hope my negligence didn't spoil your visit with Mrs. Swenson.”

There was a note in her voice he couldn't quite read. “It wasn't a social call. Her oldest son needs some tutoring.”

“Peter? He seems to be a very serious youngster. Maybe a mite
too
serious.”

“You could tell that from a few minutes of play?”

She shrugged. “I could see how dutifully he watched over his brothers, and how he didn't let himself relax and just have fun.”

“That's typical of the oldest child in a family. I see it in my students.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “You said you're the oldest.”

Was she trying to draw comparisons? “Yes. And I did keep an eye on my sisters. But Peter has the added burden of being the man of the house now that his father is gone.”

“How long ago did his father pass?”

“About a year and a half ago.”

She dried her hands on her apron and moved to the stove. “Those poor boys. It must be hard on them not having a father in their lives.”

“They'll manage, as others have. And there are good men in this community to serve as role models for the boys until she marries again.”

She smiled. “Good men, like a certain schoolteacher I happen to know.”

Mitch paused, unsure how to respond as feelings he couldn't quite identify washed over him.

She considered him a
good man?

* * *

Ivy had been doing her best not to dwell on the poor showing she'd made in front of Mrs. Swenson.

She did have her pride, after all. But more than that, she couldn't bear the idea of letting Mitch down. And right now he looked slightly dazed. What was he thinking? She wished he would say something. But he just continued to stare at her in that unnerving way.

Trying to cover the silence, she said the first thing that came to mind, “Do you plan to help him? Peter, I mean.”

He finally relaxed his gaze and rubbed his chin. “I'll help, yes, but I haven't yet decided quite how. I gave his mother a test for him that will let me know the extent of his need. Once I look over the results, I'll decide.”

Relieved that their discussion was back on safer ground, Ivy nodded. “I suppose that means she'll be returning here. Do you know when?” She was eager to snatch at this chance for domestic redemption. “I want to be prepared with refreshments next time.”

“That's not nec—”

“It's
absolutely
necessary. When you have visitors in this home, it's my job to help you be prepared to welcome them properly.”

And that woman would not find her lacking again. She refrained from examining too closely why Mrs. Swenson in particular could get her back up this way.

“Then yes, I expect her to return on Thursday, but we didn't discuss a time.”

Ivy waved that minor obstacle aside. “No matter. I'll just prepare something that keeps well.”

“If it's important to you, then by all means do so.”

Ivy hesitated a moment, then decided to say what was on her mind. “Mrs. Swenson seems quite smitten with you.”

Mitch frowned uncomfortably. “I believe
smitten
is too strong a word.”

Ivy didn't agree. But perhaps he was still mourning his late wife too much to see anyone else in that light. “You must have loved her very much.”

His surprised look brought heat to her cheeks. She hadn't intended to say that aloud. “Your wife, I mean,” she added hastily. “Not Mrs. Swenson.”

“Gretchen was a sweet, gentle woman who deserved better than me.”

“I doubt she thought so.”

“Nevertheless,” he said, his tone relentlessly firm, “that was it for me. I don't plan to ever marry again.”

Ivy felt as if she'd been slapped. She'd always known, of course, that any kind of permanent relationship with Mitch was out of the question, that after her case with Carter was settled she'd likely never see him again.

But just because her head knew that didn't mean her heart had accepted it.

“You shouldn't slam the door on the possibility. I mean, you never know wh—”

“That may be true for others, but my situation is different. I stand by my statement, and now I'd prefer we move on to another topic.”