The Wedding Promise (Harlequin Historical) Read online

  He lasted three days.

  Thoughts of her filled his waking hours. Dreams of that womanly body haunted his sleep, and the pure imaginings of his mind were the impetus that sent him on his way early on Monday morning.

  Surely he hadn’t been so long without the companionship of a female that he couldn’t control his own needs.

  Certainly he was capable of running his ranch, tending to his stock and overseeing the men working for him without allowing the memory of a slender woman to take precedence over the operation he was heading.

  Derisively, Cord shook his head at his own folly. The slim creature he’d been obsessed with for three days would be merely an ordinary woman when he saw her again. No more and no less than any other he’d run across in his life.

  Once he set eyes on her again, he’d be able to vanquish the assortment of urges he’d been fighting for three days.

  The miles were long beneath the reaching strides of his gelding. The far corners of his ranch had never seemed so distant before. Maybe he shouldn’t have left her alone out here. What if someone had come upon the small family and taken advantage of their pitiful situation?

  His heels dug into the sides of his mount and he searched the horizon for the line of trees that rimmed the uppermost ridge of the small valley he sought.

  The best approach would be to offer her a job. Not just a couple of days a week, as he’d suggested the other day, but a full-time, everyday job that would necessitate moving her and her brothers, bag and baggage, to his place.

  And then there would really be fireworks to deal with, once Jake had his routine disturbed.

  He’d have to depend on Sam Bostwick to keep Jake in line and away from Rachel. No sense in scaring her off first thing. The thought of his brother brought a frown and a deep-felt sigh.

  Jake wouldn’t take well to a female around the place.

  The Circle M employed five ranch hands, none of whom was capable of putting a decent meal on the table, as far as Cord was concerned. Finding help had become almost a farce in the past year. The gold strike was a thing of the distant past, but there were always the hopeful ones making their way west

  The fact was, getting decent ranch hands here in Kansas, and keeping them, depended in good part upon the food you put in their bellies.

  The gradual rise before him was a sea of wildflowers, topped by a ridge of trees. The sun was brilliant against the horizon. A hawk skimmed the treetops, a silent hunter against the cloudless sky.

  And there, kneeling beneath the freshly born leaves of a maple sapling was the slender woman who’d occupied his thoughts for the past three days.

  She lifted her head, her eyes wide as she watched him approach. As his horse came to a halt just feet away, she stood. Her dress showed the effects of many wash days, its color nondescript, with faint images of flowers against a faded pink background.

  It was too short, even though the hem had been let down, and he felt a quick surge of gladness at that fact, his gaze pausing on the slim ankles and bare feet she made no attempt to conceal.

  “Mr. McPherson.”

  It was a greeting of sorts, accompanied by a slow nod of her head, her eyes wary as he slid from his horse to stand before her.

  “Miss Sinclair.” He stopped abruptly. Then, as if his senses had deserted him, his tongue refused to speak.

  She was watching him in a grave, sober fashion that was not encouraging to his proposal. What he wanted to say would be insulting to a lady, and she deserved that designation.

  How could he ask her to gather up her family and come home with him? He could offer no chaperon, no other woman to protect her name while she occupied his home. And yet the desire to be in her company had not eased with the passing of time. His best bet was to put it on a business basis, he decided.

  She’d thought about him for three days. And now he was here, appearing at the crest of the long slope, atop his big horse, making his way to where she stood.

  “I came out to see if you were needing anything, ma’am.”

  Rachel considered the man standing before her. He’d been studying her with a penetrating eye, all the way up the hill, as if he could somehow see beneath the wash dress she wore. And then he’d offered a neighborly suggestion.

  Did she need anything? Here she stood, fresh from praying upon the highest spot available in the valley, as if the height of the small hill could somehow make her more noticeable to heaven’s eye. She’d just asked God’s help in stretching her pitiful supply of money. There was about enough left to feed her brothers for another week or so, but not much longer.

  With the oatmeal about done for and the flour gone weevily when she made biscuits this morning, she’d had to face the facts. She’d shuddered as she sifted the small brown bugs from her measuring cup, and cast them out the door of the shack. She’d manage to feed the boys a while longer, but even after the trip to town, the end of her supplies was in sight.

  And so was the bottom of her small cache of coins.

  Now here, as if he bore a message from the Almighty, came the man who’d not been far from her thoughts since Thursday, when he’d announced his ownership of the very spot they’d taken over as their own.

  “Do we need anything?” She repeated his words and her voice was alive with wry incredulity. “I suppose I should be polite and tell you that my brothers and I have everything under control, Mr. McPherson.”

  Vainly, she tried to smile, but the worry of the long night hours had left her without a trace of good humor.

  Cord McPherson swept his wide-brimmed hat from his head and slapped it against his thigh. “I’m not looking for niceties from you, ma’am. I’d take the truth over a polite denial any day of the week.”

  “We can survive for a while,” she said finally, her breath escaping in a sigh. “We had enough food to last a month or so, when we got here, with fresh meat and fish to fill in. But we’ve about reached the bottom of the barrel, and I don’t know how many more trips to the store in Green Rapids we can afford.”

  “Green Rapids? You’ve been there?”

  She nodded. “I wasn’t sure I could find the way back there, to tell the truth, but we made it.”

  He nodded. “Any problems in town?”

  “No.” She smiled, remembering the welcome they’d received. “The shopkeeper was pleasant. He gave me a tin of tea as a gift.”

  His brow lifted in disbelief. “Conrad?”

  “He seemed very nice,” she said primly, her eyes lowered, her cheeks flushing, unable to meet his gaze.

  “I’ll just bet he did.” His words were gruff, and he settled his hands against his hips.

  “I didn’t expect you back,” she said finally.

  “I told you I’d come.”

  Her shrug was answer enough, he decided. She’d probably hoped he wouldn’t show up, if he knew anything about it.

  “Anybody give you any trouble here?” He looked beyond her to where the shack huddled in the small valley, the two horses tethered on the other side of the stream, the empty wagon under a tree.

  “No.” She shook her head. “A man rode up yesterday and looked things over. But he left after a few minutes.”

  “Probably Moses havin’ a look-see. I told him if he got a chance, to check on you.”

  “Moses?” She rolled the name on her tongue, her quick mind nudging her dormant sense of humor. “Do you suppose he thought he’d discovered the promised land?” The wave of her slender hand encompassed the shack and its surroundings.

  His chuckle warmed her. “And here I thought you didn’t have a lick of jocularity to your name.”

  She caught a glimpse of white teeth beneath his dark mustache when he smiled. She’d had little to brighten her days lately, other than meeting Conrad Carson. And even that small bit of pleasure had not been enough to lift her spirits for long.

  In fact, until this very minute, she’d about decided life had reached rock bottom.

  The small valley had seemed an E
den of sorts for a while. Only when the store of supplies began running out had she faced facts. Eden would soon pale once the cornmeal and sugar sacks were emptied.

  “You asked me to come to your place and do your washing, Mr. McPherson. Does the offer still hold?” Unbidden, the words rushed from her lips and she hesitated, her cheeks flushing with her own temerity as she waited his reply.

  His fingers gripped the dented top of his hat and he swept it from his head. “Matter of fact, that’s the very reason I came out here this morning,” he said politely.

  Her heart skipped a beat and she felt a rush of warmth flow through her veins. That her prayer should be answered so quickly was surely a sign.

  “You want me to go back with you and work on your laundry?” she asked, her mind already speeding ahead to the preparations she must make, were that the case.

  His mouth quirked at one corner, and she wondered if he were mocking her eagerness. And then he grinned outright, a smile that carried a welcome message. “More than that, I want you to take on some cooking chores, if you will.”

  “If there’s any great amount of washing to do, it may take the rest of the day,” she countered. “I might not have much time left over to spend cooking a big meal for you.”

  He ran long fingers through his hair, scratching a spot at the crown, as if he pondered her words. Then the big hat went back in place over his dark hair and he set his jaw, as if he had reached a decision and would not be swayed.

  “I’d thought you might be persuaded to take on the ranch kitchen. Just to see if you could handle it. It’s probably too much of a job for a girl like you to cope with, but—”

  “I’m far from a young girl, Mr. McPherson,” she said sharply, interrupting him. “I’ve been cooking and scrubbing out the washing on a board for several months now. I’m sure I can handle cooking for a man and doing his clothes without much effort at all.”

  Her mouth set primly, she awaited his reply, her pride the issue now. If he thought for one minute she was too puny to be of any use, he could just…Just what? Find someone else for the job? When she so desperately needed the security of cash money in her hand and food for the table?

  “Well…” He seemed to hesitate, and she urged him silently, her mouth firm, her eyes intent on his, her breath stored tightly in her lungs, as if she feared to release it before he made up his mind.

  “It’s not just for me,” he told her. “There’s my brother, too. Plus four ranch hands and Sam. He’s been cookin’ for us, but I doubt he’ll ever be able to put a decent meal together to save his soul. That’s seven men to cook for. The washing is just for me and my brother, but if you wanted to earn more money, I’m sure the men would be happy to get their duds scrubbed out on a regular basis. They like clean clothes come Saturday night, usually.”

  Seven men! The image was daunting, but Rachel swallowed her urge to spew the words aloud. She caught her breath, her mind in a whirl. If the ranch house was farther than an hour away, she’d spend much of the day driving the wagon back and forth and never have time to do her own work here.

  And then there was the question of the boys.

  “Can I bring my brothers along for the day?” she asked, her heart beating rapidly as she bargained.

  His shrug was casual. “Don’t know why not They can give you a hand, maybe. Or just pitch in with the barn work.”

  She glanced at the shack, where Jay had just appeared in the doorway. “They’ll need to eat, too. If I’m cooking for you, it will be for nine, not just seven.”

  “Ten,” he corrected her. “I’ll expect you to share the table with us, Miss Sinclair.” His eyes lit with a glow of triumph and she noted it uneasily.

  “How far from here is the house?”

  “Better than an hour in a wagon,” he told her. “Little less on horseback.”

  “It’ll take me a few minutes to get the boys ready and set things to rights here.” She brushed her hands against the front of her skirt. “I probably should change my clothes too.”

  He cleared his throat, looking past her to where Jay stood near the shack. “Why don’t you just plan to stay on at the house, long as you’re going to be working there anyway?”

  She blinked, attempting to digest his suggestion. “You want all of us to move to your house?” The thought was beyond her comprehension.

  His nod of agreement stunned her. “Reckon that’s what I had in mind, ma’am. Thought you might load up your wagon and follow me back. I’ll give you a hand with your things.”

  “Rae, what’cha doin’ up there?” From the shack, Jay’s reedy voice lifted on the still air.

  Rachel’s head turned and she looked down at her small brother, dressed in too-short pants and a shirt he hadn’t grown into yet. His dark, stubborn hair stuck up at the crown, ignoring his efforts at the stream to plaster it against his scalp, and one bare foot rubbed against the other as he watched her.

  “I’m talking to Mr. McPherson, Jay. I’ll be right there. Go get your brother out of bed.” Her words carried easily to where the child stood and he nodded agreeably as he turned back to the shack.

  “You’ll go with me?” Cord asked, and she cast him a knowing glance.

  “Look around you, Mr. McPherson. If you were trying to tend two boys and keep them fed and clean and had to worry about where you were going to land once you set out from here, would you turn down an offer like the one you just made me?”

  He nodded, his lips parting in a smile of approval. “I see what you mean. I think you’re a smart lady, to tell the truth. Workin’ for me will give you time to figure out what you want to do next.” He grasped his horse’s reins and walked ahead of her, down the rise and across the grassy clearing.

  Rachel followed in his wake. He sure as the world had it all figured out, didn’t he? Her feet dragged as she considered the man striding down the shallow slope before her.

  He was taking an awful lot for granted, organizing their lives this way. Pa’s vision of claiming land farther west was still alive in her soul and if she agreed to stop here, the boys would never see the West their father had dreamed of.

  “Mr. McPherson, why don’t we make this a sort of temporary thing, me working for you? Just in case I’m not satisfactory for the job.” She’d managed to halt his progress with that one, and a small sense of triumph buzzed within her as he paused in front of her.

  He hesitated, just for a moment, then swung to face her, his eyes alight with an emotion akin to amusement. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll work out just fine, Miss Sinclair. I’ll give you time to learn the ropes, get your feet wet, so to speak.”

  He waved expansively at the clearing ahead of them. “If you can make a home here, with nothin’ to do it with, I’ll warrant you can run rings around the help I’ve got in my kitchen now.”

  The web he was weaving wrapped around her, its elusive threads beguiling her, and she made one last valiant effort to establish her ground.

  “I need money, Mr. McPherson. Not just a place to stay. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll need a stake to get us where we’re going.”

  He nodded slowly. “I guess that’s only fair. Why don’t we give it a year’s trial?”

  “A year!” Her voice lifted, the words a squeal, and the hard-won dignity she’d managed to don like a Sunday dress fell about her feet, leaving her exposed to his dark gaze.

  His nod was emphatic. “A year. You can’t head west in the autumn. Even if there were any supply trains at that time of year, it would be suicide. And any shorter time than that wouldn’t be a fair trial, would it?”

  The words sounded reasonable, the way he put it, and she cleared her throat, her mind boggling at the idea of spending a year in the company of this man.

  Enough that he was tall and well muscled, his shirt fitting him as if it were tailor-made to cover those broad shoulders. Add to that the very masculine presence he exuded, all tanned and well-put-together, with those dark eyes gleaming as if they knew secrets beyond her co
mprehension.

  He almost frightened her, this benefactor who had given her the choice of eking out an existence on the edge of his property or following him to his home. He seemed kindly enough, but there was about him a power she didn’t understand, as if a magnetic field surrounded him and she was being drawn into its depths.

  Now he watched her, with a patience she wouldn’t have credited him with, as if allowing her to choose. When in reality there was no choice. Behind her was Green Rapids and the sufferance of strangers. Ahead, only the uncertainty of the unknown.

  And smack in the middle was Cord McPherson.

  “All right, but not quite a year. Come spring, March or April, I’ll decide, soon as the first chance to go west comes in sight. I’ll have to have enough money on hand to buy a pair of oxen.”

  Tom Clemons had been right, she admitted to herself. Horses weren’t sturdy enough for the rigors of the trail.

  She bit at her lip, determined to give the man an honest bargain. “And if it doesn’t work out before then, if you find that I’m not suitable for the job, you’ll let me know,” she offered.

  His eyes made a quick survey of her, his broad hands spread wide against his hipbones, the reins trailing from between his fingers as his horse waited patiently.

  “All right.” He nodded finally, his gaze dark, his eyes holding a subdued excitement. “If you can’t make the grade, I’ll let you know.” His mouth twisted into a shadow of a grin, as if he would not allow any levity to dilute the serious aspects of their agreement.

  Rachel wiped her palm against her skirt and offered it in his direction. “Do we have a deal, Mr. McPherson?” she asked firmly, her breath catching in her throat as she realized the enormity of this undertaking.

  His lean, callused fingers grasped hers and he held them firmly. “We have a deal, Rachel.”

  It took less than an hour to load their pitiful belongings into the wagon, close up the shack and be on their way. Cord harnessed the horses, admiring their plump, sleek lines, due probably to the lush grasses of his valley, he surmised with a subdued grin.