Promise me tomorrow (13 page)

Chase nodded and smiled. She really was a remarkably sweet person, but it was also funny.

"Why do I feel as if I'm being laughed at?" Rusty asked, her chin rising slightly in the air.

"You're not. I just wonder if you ever take time off."

"Meaning?"

"You feel a need to take care of everyone, and I wondered if you ever take a day off. It must be exhausting work."

Rusty's mouth dropped open for a moment, but then she closed it with a snap and tried not to smile at Chase's still-amused face. With one more little tilt to her chin, she set her napkin on the table and stood.

"Would you please tell me, Mr. McCandles, who made this lovely meal? I would like to thank her."

Out of propriety, Chase stood, but even as he looked down on Rusty—he was over a foot taller than her small frame—he wanted to laugh. She met his gaze unflinchingly and did not allow the smile in her eyes to go any farther.

"The hallway to the kitchen is through there," he said, indicating the door behind him. "I'm sure Rick or Mrs. Whitley will be on hand to thank."

"Thank you," she replied with a gracious, if not queenlike, nod of her head before she went on her way.

Chase turned to watch her, but Rusty never looked back. He shook his head very slowly, wondering all the while if he'd ever met anyone quite like her.

14

Several hours had passed when Chase found Rusty on the veranda, a book open in her lap. Her eyes were on the window and the greenery outside when she heard his footsteps.

"Why did I think you would be taking a nap just about now?" Chase commented as soon as he had taken a chair opposite her.

"That's a good question. Why
would
you think that?"

"You were pretty sick yesterday," he needlessly reminded her.

Rusty's brows rose. "Now who's taking care of whom, Mr. McCandles?"

Chase laughed at being caught out, but he still speared her with his eyes. "I still think it's a good idea." His voice was very firm. "You don't quite have all of your color back."

"You do know, don't you, that you like having your own way?"

Chase blinked in surprise, his mouth opening a little.

"I guess you're right," he said, his tone telling Rusty he'd never even thought of it.

Rusty looked amused as she watched him open his mouth to say more, perhaps defend himself, but Mrs. Whitley came to the door just then.

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's a man to see you. He says it's about the crop land you had listed to rent."

"Thank you, Mrs. Whitley. Tell him I'll be right along.

"Very well, sir."

Chase stood and excused himself, but Rusty kept her seat. She wasn't tired enough for a nap, although she did feel a bit lazy. The breeze ruffled the pages of the book in her lap, and she went back to her reading.
A little later,
she told herself,
I'll take a walk around Briarly. That will shake out the webs.

***

Chase saw his guest out the door and returned to the foyer to find his housekeeper passing through. She had the book in her hand, the one Rusty had been reading. He asked about her.

"I assume Miss Taggart is lying down."

"No, sir, I don't believe so. She had a glass of cider and then went out the kitchen door. I told her it was chilly, but she declined a wrap."

Chase's brows rose, but he said only, "Thank you.

Mrs. Whitley was not at all surprised to see him turn and stride toward the kitchen. She kept her place, and just seconds later heard the opening and closing of the back door. Only then did she make her way upstairs with an armful of linens, a full smile on her face.

***

Chase exited the house through the kitchen door and took the long drive toward the stable. He didn't think Rusty had gone inside, so his eyes moved over the smooth acres of grass until he spotted her at the edge of the woods. It was chilly out, so he removed his jacket as he went in order to give it to Rusty. Not wanting to startle her, Chase cleared his throat as he neared, but she didn't turn until he spoke.

"Here," he said quietly as he came up behind her. "Take my coat. "

"Now you'll be cold," she commented even as she pulled it around her.

"That's true. Why don't we go into the barn? At least we'll escape the wind in there."

Rusty started to remove the coat to hand it to him, but Chase shifted it back onto her shoulders and guided her with a hand to her back.

"You know you're doing it again, don't you?" Her voice was light.

"What's that?"

"Having your way."

Chase smiled but didn't deny it. Once they stepped into the warm confines of the barn, he asked, "Are you always so stubborn about things that are clearly for your own good?"

"Meaning?" She stood looking up at him.

"Meaning that after we spoke on the veranda, I thought you would take a nap, and now I offer you my coat because it's cold, and you don't want it."

"That's all very simply explained, Mr. McCandles, I assure you," Rusty said, her look tolerant. "I was saving
you
from the cold by not wanting to take your jacket, and as for the nap, I simply didn't need one."

She looked so matter-of-fact that Chase wanted to laugh again. He watched her eyes narrow and knew that he would be in trouble if he did.

"You must be eager to be home," he said suddenly and with great kindness. He thought she still looked a little pale. It made him uncertain about having asked her to work tomorrow. "It's so hard to be sick when you're away from home."

For no apparent reason tears rushed to Rusty's eyes. Seeing them, Chase felt his heart break. He watched as one spilled over and rolled down her cheek. He had to stop himself from taking her in his arms.

"I'm sorry I made you cry," he said quietly.

"You didn't—I mean, not really. But suddenly it seems as though I haven't seen them in years."

Chase nodded. "I think I understand, Katherine. Maybe we should head to Boulder tomorrow so you can see them that much sooner. I can make other arrangements for Quintin."

Rusty shook her head and wiped her cheeks. "I'm looking forward to being with your little boy. Friday is still fine."

Chase stared at her for a moment. She was an amazing person. One minute she was staring at him with huge eyes, wondering if she'd acted inappropriately with Rick. The next minute she was standing up to his teasing, her chin in the air. Now, with tears in her eyes, she was agreeing to remain an extra day and take care of his son. Chase found himself aching to hug her or slip an arm around her but knew that wasn't fair; she was just getting herself back under control. Instead of a hug, the back of Chase's fingers came out and brushed ever so softly against her cheek.

"You missed a tear," he explained and was gratified to see that she didn't recoil or seem offended. "Would you like to see my stable?"

"Yes, please," Rusty said, grateful for the chance to do something else. "Do you have many horses?"

"Six, but just three are for riding. They're all fine animals; I'm rather pleased with them."

Chase led the way between the stalls, and as they went, he let out a low whistle. As if by magic three heads appeared from two stalls. Intelligent eyes watched them approach, and the two in the same box nearly jockeyed for position.

"Oh," Rusty said in delight as they stopped before the first box. "He's beautiful."

Chase slapped the neck of a huge black gelding and caught his nose when he began to root around for sugar.

"This is Shelby." Obvious pleasure filled Chase's voice. "He's on the large side, but he's very gentle."

Rusty put her hand to the soft: fuzziness of his muzzle. "He's gorgeous. Have you had him from birth?"

"No, just a few years. I bought him from the Cameron brothers in Wisconsin. Their stables are some of the finest in the Midwest. And these girls, twins actually"—he led the way one box over—"are Rain and Snow. They are wonderful for riding but a little too used to being together. I bought them locally and had them trained for gentleness." The mares rooted at the front of his vest as well.

"And as you can see, I spoil them all with sugar. Now they take me for granted."

Rusty smiled. The mares were as lovely as Shelby, both dark roans with splashes of white under their forelocks.

"How often do you ride?"

"I try to get out at least once a week, but if I'm traveling that's impossible. I have a man who gives them a workout when I can't, so they don't go neglected."

Rusty stood back while he fed them sugar. Chase went on to show her the other horses, first a fat cart pony by the name of Dobbins, and then a matched set of bays, Marley and Flynn, Briarly's carriage horses. Rusty enjoyed seeing them, but Quintin had come to mind, and she was now ready to go back to the house. Chase seemed sensitive to this and suggested they return.

"I haven't seen Quintin around much," Rusty commented. "I hope he isn't ill."

"No, but this is "Wednesday, and he and Mrs. Harding go to the reading room on Wednesday afternoons."

Rusty nodded but didn't speak. She was dying to ask her host what day of the week he took his son. They continued back to the house, and once inside parted company.

Chase was not around when dinner was served, and Rusty never did run into Quintin, although she assumed he had returned from the library. She ate a solitary meal and then went to her room early, ready for sleep. It was a large house, beautifully decorated, but it didn't feel like a home to her. Someone had started a fire in the fireplace in her room, and it was with great pleasure that she curled up in bed and stared at the bright embers.

In 48 hours I'll be home,
she told the Lord when her
eyes
grew too tired to read.
I'll see my papa and get to hug Mother.
Thinking of the way that hug would feel, Rusty pushed the thought aside, reminding herself that she had already cried that day. She turned the lantern down just minutes later. Sleep claimed her almost immediately.

15

Rusty was on her way back to her room from the bathing chamber when she spotted her young charge. He was headed down the stairs, not having seen her, but he stopped when she softly called to him.

"Good morning, Quintin James McCandles."

"Good morning."

Rusty beckoned to him with one finger. He came directly to her. She loved the navy blue shorts he was wearing, and this time he had a small matching jacket over his pale blue shirt.

"Did you know," she whispered, bending just enough to make it seem like a conspiracy, "that we are going to spend the day together?"

Quintin nodded, his eyes on her face. "Mrs. Harding told me. "

"Well, did you also know that we are going to have
so
much fun?"

Quintin bit his lip and smiled, his little feet moving with excitement.

"Were you going somewhere just now?"

"Mrs. Harding told me to go eat breakfast."

"Well, I won't keep you. I'll come down just as soon as I'm ready."

"To eat breakfast?"

"Yes."

He smiled at her again, and Rusty brushed a hand over his hair. She saw the adoration in his eyes and fell just a little more in love with him.

He was so sweet, and his skin was like fresh cream. Rusty was on the verge of telling him he could head down when his little stomach growled. She watched in surprise as he looked upset, almost frightened.

"Well, now." Rusty brushed right past it, laughter in her voice. "You must be starving."

Quintin didn't know what to think of her. Mrs. Harding was very strict about noises, even ones you couldn't control. Rusty saw very swiftly that he did not Find the situation funny. She put her hand back on his soft hair.

"Go ahead, Quintin, and eat your breakfast," she urged him gently. "I'll be right behind you."

"All right," he said, giving her a tentative smile. Rusty beamed at him and watched his little shoulders relax as he went on his way. Turning to her room, she shut the door and leaned against it, wondering silently what in the world this day would bring.

***

The breakfast room looked as it always did at this time of the day, except that Mrs. Harding was not present. Only about half the size of the formal dining room, it was cozier, with windows on two walls and four corner cabinets that held lovely dishes and holloware. Like almost all the other rooms she had been in, there was also a small stone fireplace. Under the front windows was a sideboard, and at the moment it was filled with delectable breakfast foods.

Chase, who sat at the table, a newspaper in his hand, came to his feet and greeted Rusty as soon as she entered. Rusty returned the greeting but then made a beeline for Quintin, who already sat with a full plate in front of him.

"This looks so good," she said as she leaned over his plate.

"Do you want a bite?" His face was alight with excitement.

"Yes!" she declared, and took a bite of the long strip of bacon he held for her. "Oh, my," she said dramatically, not even bothering to wait until she swallowed. "That
is
delicious. I need to get some of my own."

"I'll help you."

"You will? Thank you."

Quintin came to his feet and took Rusty's hand. The sideboard laden with food was just five steps away, but she allowed herself to be led. Quintin was on the verge of showing Rusty where the plates were stacked when he glanced back at the table. He stopped when he saw his father's face.

Chase had not taken his seat again. He stood, the now-forgotten newspaper still dangling from his fingertips, and stared at his son. Seeing a look so foreign, Quintin swiftly left the sideboard and slipped back into his chair.

"May I please be excused, sir, for a little time?"

His voice seemed to snap Chase from his trance.

"Of course, Quintin—that will be fine."

Rusty worked hard to keep the emotion from her face. Quintin returned to her side, but his look was subdued. He showed her the plates and then the covered silver dish that held the bacon.