The Bachelor Tax Read online

  From behind her, Tanner’s footsteps crossed the floor. “I’ll expect supper on the table in two hours, Miss Gibson. There’ll be six hands and myself.”

  “Do I get to eat, too?” She couldn’t resist. His words begged for rebuttal, and to her dismay, her sharp tongue offered it without pause.

  “You’d better make plenty, or there might not be any left for you, ma’am. You’re cookin’ for hungry men.”

  That was an understatement, Rosemary decided later, watching as the seven men devoured her efforts. In less than ten minutes they had plowed through two platters of beef steak she’d breaded and fried, then placed in the oven to bake. A big bowl of pale gravy was poured without prejudice over their plates, covering potatoes, biscuits and meat, the spoon she had provided even now staining the tablecloth she’d used.

  Two quart jars of green beans had disappeared, and the dried apples she’d made up into a dessert, with sugar and cinnamon and sweet dough on top, were but a memory.

  It was as if a horde of locusts had descended and devoured every scrap of available food, she decided, watching with wide eyes as one of the men wiped the gravy bowl clean with a piece of biscuit, then stuffed the dripping bite into his mouth.

  “Sure is good grub, ma’am,” he announced, shoving his chair back from the table as he gained his feet. “Pert near as good as Mama Pearl’s.”

  The glow ignited by his offhand compliment faded as Rosemary registered his final words. “What does Mama Pearl cook for you?” she asked hastily as the men clustered at the doorway, filing out onto the porch.

  Tanner sat at the other end of the long table and leaned back in his chair. “You’ll get a chance to ask her tomorrow. It’s her day to show up here.”

  He eyed the empty bowls and his grin was unrepentant. “Doesn’t look like they left you much, Miss Gibson. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  She nodded. “That’s true.”

  Tanner rose from his chair, nodding at her as he pushed it beneath the table’s edge. His fingers raised in a half salute as he strolled from the kitchen. “I might as well start on the study, ma’am. There may be part of a loaf of bread left in the pantry if you’re hungry.”

  “I took you at your word, Mr. Tanner,” she said beneath her breath.

  He paused at the doorway. “Oh? How’s that?”

  She turned, opening the oven and, with a heavy pot holder, drew forth a plate upon which she had placed a generous portion of the meal she had prepared.

  “I got mine first. Just in case.” With a flourish, she sat down at the table, spreading a dish towel across her lap. Folding her hands before her, she closed her eyes, her mind searching for words of thanksgiving.

  For the first time in her life, she met a blank wall. The presence of the Almighty seemed not to occupy this room, and the simple prayer she was accustomed to speaking before her meals was somehow gone from her mind.

  She compromised, closing her eyes, whispering a few words of thanks for her food, and asking only for safe refuge in this place. The image of Gabe Tanner’s face flashed before her closed eyes, his lips curved in a smug grin, his gaze flashing a challenge.

  Her eyes opened and she gritted her teeth. The man was determined to be an aggravation. With fingers that trembled, she picked up her knife and fork and sawed at a piece of steak, reconsidering her quick petition to the Almighty.

  Perhaps, she thought, she should have asked instead for patience.

  Chapter Five

  The rain began during the night, blowing through the window, sending a fresh breeze into Rosemary’s bedroom. She awoke with a start, only a sheet covering her, the residue of a dream fogging her mind. Rising quickly, she moved toward the window, where filmy curtains billowed in the wind, the fabric soaking up the dampness. Beneath her feet raindrops spattered the floor, and she shivered as chills vibrated through her body.

  Arms circling like those of a windmill, her legs wobbling beneath her, she slid in an awkward dance across the wet, bare wooden floor. With a loud thump, her left hand banged against the wall, and she cried aloud as she fell, her bottom landing with bruising force. The fabric of her nightgown soaked up the puddle she sat in, and between the throbbing of her hand and the chill of the soggy material wrapped around her, she was beyond discomfort.

  Outside the open window the rain increased, and she winced as the lightning flashed, a loud clap of thunder following on its heels, battering her eardrums. It was not, she decided, an auspicious beginning for this, her first night in this house.

  “Miss Gibson? Rosemary?” From the doorway, Tanner’s booming voice filled the room. He stepped quickly to the bed as if he sought her there, and then moved around it to where she sprawled inelegantly on the floor in front of the open window.

  “If you want to take a bath, there’s easier ways to go about it, ma’am.” He reached past her to close the window, before squatting beside her. Bathed in another flash of light, he leaned toward her, bare chested, his smile raffish. It was too much to bear—this man with his sarcasm, the rain drenching her, a wet curtain draped across her head, and the knowledge that she wore her only clean nightgown.

  She drew up her legs, her arms circling her knees, and then lowered her forehead to rest there. If only Tanner would go away she could get up and find something to wear.

  And so her words were grumpier than she’d have liked as she responded to his jest. “Why don’t you just go back to bed, Mr. Tanner? I’m fine, really.”

  “Are you?” His voice had changed, become softer, as if he rued the mocking words he’d tossed at her so glibly just moments past. Against her chilled skin, the warmth of his hands on her shoulders penetrated the wet fabric of her nightgown, and she lifted her head to meet his gaze in the dim light. His frown was evident as he brushed the wet curtain from her head.

  “You’re really cold, aren’t you?” With ease, he rose and stepped to the bed, retrieving a quilt and opening it between his outstretched arms. “Let’s wrap you in this. You need to get warmed up.”

  She nodded, attempting to rise. He was there, one hand gripping hers, then moving to encircle her waist as he helped her stand. The quilt was withheld for a moment as he scanned her pale form in the shadows.

  “You need to take off that nightgown first, I think. There’s no sense in wrapping you up in a dry quilt, when you’re soaked through.” He glanced at the corner of the room where a four-part screen allowed privacy for washing and use of the chamber pot.

  The lightning flashed again and Rosemary’s head turned quickly toward the window, her long braid whipping through the air. As if she were caught in the light of a lantern, she covered her eyes with one hand.

  “Go strip off that wet thing. I’ll hand you the quilt.” His breath was warm against her cheek, his voice ragged, as if he fought to force the words between his lips.

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Tanner. Why don’t you just go back to your room, and I’ll find some clothes to put on instead.”

  “Whatever you say.” His movement was abrupt as he turned from her, tossing the quilt to the bed as he made his way to the doorway. Before she could phrase a reply, the door closed and he was gone. And yet his presence remained, his lingering scent that reminded her of hay and horses and fresh air. She tested it again, her nostrils flaring.

  For the first time in her life, she had been alone in her bedroom with a man. Gabe Tanner had viewed her in her nightgown. In near darkness, to be sure. But even as she considered the idea, another flash of lightning exposed her for a moment, and she was aghast as she looked down at the sight of her feminine form with the garment plastered to every curve and hollow.

  Rosemary staggered to the dresser where she’d stored her pitiful supply of underwear and found a pair of drawers and a camisole. The petticoat could wait until morning, she decided. Right now, she needed to be warm and decently covered.

  Draping the gown over the back of a chair, she dried off quickly with a towel, then slid into her underwear. With
haste she made her way into bed, pulling the quilt up over her shoulder, rolling within its folds.

  “Rosemary?” From outside her door, Tanner’s voice was firm, as if he would not be denied a reply.

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly, sitting up in the middle of the bed. “I’m getting warm.”

  She heard his footsteps moving down the hallway and she flopped back on the pillow. Her left hand hurt like the very dickens. She peered at it, holding it before her eyes, as if she could discern the degree of injury. It felt swollen, and she shook her head at the thought of putting together breakfast with one hand.

  Mama Pearl would be here, Tanner had said. At least for one day she would have help.

  Outside her bedroom door, Tanner stood listening to her movements inside. The scrape of wood on wood announced the opening of her dresser drawer, and in a few moments the creaking of the bedstead told him she had crawled between the sheets.

  “Rosemary?” He wanted to open the door. In the very worst way he wanted to see for himself that she was dry and warm, and his hand hovered over the doorknob.

  “I’m fine,” she announced. “I’m getting warm.”

  His eyes closed as he envisioned the glimpses he’d had of her, her nightgown clinging like the paper on the wall. She was slender, but nicely rounded, and he almost groaned aloud as he recalled the curving lines the wet gown had so neatly exposed.

  There was no excuse to linger. She’d as much as told him to be on his way. He trudged to his bedroom and rolled across the wide mattress, pulling the quilt over him. He’d pulled some boners in his life, but getting talked into taking Rosemary Gibson on as a cook was about the dumbest thing he’d ever done.

  He’d thought her a drab little thing, all done up in her black straw hat and dowdy dress. But once she opened that sassy mouth and flashed those blue eyes in his direction, he’d seen her in a new light.

  Damn, if he was anywhere near interested in getting hitched, she’d be a likely candidate.

  He’d wager she could hold her own in an argument. That stubborn chin came with a guarantee. The preacher’s daughter wasn’t nearly the brown wren he’d thought her to be. In fact, the form he’d seen in the flashes of lightning just minutes past held enough clout to keep him awake for a while.

  The woman was big, her smile wide, white teeth gleaming as she greeted Rosemary. Mama Pearl turned from the stove with a large spoon in one hand. Over a high forehead, curly black hair peeked from beneath a scarf. Her body was encased in a sparkling white apron that almost totally covered the brightly printed dress beneath it.

  “You’re Mama Pearl?”

  “And who else would I be, child?” The spoon bore bits of sausage and gravy, and the woman turned back to the stove to rest it in the huge skillet she’d been tending. “Heard tell Tanner had himself a new cook. Sure hope you don’t mind me takin’ over your kitchen this way, but these fellas look for my biscuits and gravy once a week. I hate to disappoint ’em, honey.”

  “Certainly not,” Rosemary said with relief. “I didn’t realize it was so late until Mr. Tanner knocked on my door a few minutes ago.”

  “Well, you might want to throw some plates on the table, honey. Those men are ’bout done with the early chores, and they’ll be plowin’ in the door any minute now, all hungry and ready for a plateful.” Mama Pearl opened the big oven door and pulled out two pans of biscuits. With deft movements they were dumped into a huge crockery bowl and placed in the middle of the long table.

  “Better get hoppin’, missy,” Mama Pearl said, nudging Rosemary into action.

  Opening the door of the buffet, Rosemary counted out seven plates and carried them to the table. Her left hand was of more use than she had expected, the fingers loosening as she flexed them carefully. The plates were in place, the silverware nudging them from either side, and heavy, thick china mugs were filled with coffee as the men entered from the porch.

  “Good mornin’,” Mama Pearl sang out. “Sit down and get your share, boys.” Placing a ladle in the bowl of gravy, she settled it at one end of the table and stepped back. Another bowl containing scrambled eggs sat in the warming oven, and accompanying it was a black skillet mounded with fried potatoes.

  “Y’all better save some for Tanner,” Mama Pearl warned quickly as the sixth man scooped his share from the skillet.

  “You ought to take lessons from the new cook,” Tanner said from the kitchen doorway. “She puts hers aside first.” His grin teased Rosemary and then his gaze washed over her, as if he searched for damage.

  “You all right?” he asked, his words spoken softly as he halted before her.

  She nodded and met his gaze. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Tanner. I don’t believe I even thanked you for coming to my rescue.”

  “You better get your grub, boss,” Mama Pearl said with a laugh. “These men are puttin’ it away like they been starvin’ for a week.”

  “Well, they didn’t suffer any at suppertime last night,” Tanner said.

  Rosemary felt a flush climb her cheeks at the faint praise he doled out so readily, watching as he seated himself at the table. He scraped the remaining eggs and potatoes onto his plate, then broke open two biscuits and covered them with the gravy. He peered into the bowl, fishing for bits of sausage, then glared at the men who watched him.

  “You could have saved me a little meat,” he said, picking up his fork and plunging it into the pile of potatoes.

  “I put some aside. I knew these fellas’d be like vultures on fresh kill come six in the morning.” Mama Pearl laughed at Rosemary’s look of distaste, scooping two sausage patties from a small plate on the back of the stove. She deposited the meat on Tanner’s biscuits and received his grin of thanks.

  “You just be sure to always take good care of the boss, Miss Rosemary.” The coffeepot made the rounds again, then Mama Pearl lowered it onto the stove with a bang before she set the skillets to soak in the sink.

  “Anybody got washing for me to do better have it up here in an hour,” she announced to the men. “I’m gonna set up the scrub board, and I don’t plan on workin’ past noon on your dirty duds. You’re just lucky the rain blew over this mornin’. I’ll be able to hang ’em out for you.”

  The men nodded hastily, swallowing their coffee and scooting their chairs from the table as Mama Pearl spoke.

  Rosemary’s eyes widened in disbelief. That they could have put away all that food in so short a time was beyond her comprehension. Yet they had. By dint of shoveling it in without pause, they had finished their meal in not much more than five minutes.

  They had a lot to learn about manners, it seemed. Table talk was an unknown here, as was the common courtesy of thanking the woman who had prepared their meal.

  Tanner leaned back in his chair. “Any more coffee in that pot?” He held up his mug and Rosemary hastened to bring the big coffeepot to the table, holding the lid in place with her left hand as she poured.

  “Whoa. Let me see that hand.” His tone of voice left her no leeway, and she rested the pot on the wooden table as he inspected her injury.

  Rosemary looked down at the purpling bruise she had acquired during the night and slipped her hand from his grip, sweeping the evidence behind her back. “I’m fine. It hit the wall when I fell, but it hardly hurts now.”

  His eyes narrowed as he wiggled his fingers in her direction. “Your hand, Rosemary.”

  With a sigh, she placed it in his, watching as he turned it one way, then the other. “Why didn’t you tell me last night you’d hurt it? I could have gotten a cold cloth, or put some witch hazel on it.”

  “It felt cold enough already,” she said with a laugh, pulling at his grip. Her gaze fluttered to where Mama Pearl walked across the floor, hands full of plates and silverware.

  “Don’t abuse it today,” he said. “You’ll have the place to yourself tomorrow. Time enough then to find out how badly you’ve damaged it.”

  “Let me see, child.” Mama Pearl scooped Rosemary’
s hand into her own and clucked her tongue. “How’d you manage to do that, girl?”

  “She fell getting up to close her window during the night,” Tanner supplied.

  “And where were you while all this was goin’ on?” Mama Pearl asked, her eyes sharp on Tanner’s face. “You got no business in this girl’s bedroom.”

  “I heard her fall, and I went to see if she was all right. I didn’t do one damn thing to damage her virtue.” His face was hard, his jaw tight, as he spoke his piece and Rosemary shivered, remembering the sight of herself in the flare of lightning.

  Tanner’s eyes were dark as he met her gaze, his mouth taut. “You want to assure Mama Pearl that I didn’t assault you, Miss Gibson?”

  “He didn’t. Truly, he was a gentleman,” she said quickly, feeling a flush rise to color her cheeks as she sang his praises.

  Mama Pearl nodded, apparently accepting Rosemary’s word. “Well, I guess we both know that floor needs a rug ’longside of the bed. I’ll see to it today.”

  Rosemary tugged her hand free from the other woman’s grip. “It hardly hurts any more. And if you’ll direct me, I wouldn’t mind locating a rug to keep my feet dry.”

  Tanner nodded. “There’s a whole pile of stuff in the attic. I’ll warrant you can find what you need right at the top of the stairs. Everything’s pretty much covered up with sheets, but you can poke around and find somethin’ that’ll do.”

  He’d noticeably relaxed, his frown replaced with a grin as he left the kitchen. “Good breakfast,” he called back, the screen door slamming behind him.

  “Well, we got rid of all the menfolk. Now to set some water heatin’ for the wash,” Pearl told Rosemary.

  “You do the laundry for all those men?”

  “Sure enough. Just scrub ’em out and hang ’em over the line. They come and pick out their own at supper time. I don’t iron or fold, exceptin’ for Tanner’s things. And they just mostly get a lick and a promise.”

  She poured a cup of coffee for herself and lifted an eyebrow in Rosemary’s direction. “You want some? It’s pretty strong, but you can add some hot water to thin it down if you like.”