The Wedding Promise

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 comprehension.

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.

He worked rapidly, leading the team to the cabin door, where Rachel waited beside an assortment of crates and boxes. In moments, he had the wagon in place, the reins tied to a low branch of the nearest tree, lest the horses take it in their heads to return to the rich pastureland on the other side of the stream.

“How long you been here?” he asked, satisfied finally that the team was secure.

“A few weeks.” She lifted a box he deemed beyond her strength and he took it from her, their hands brushing as he eased it from her arms.

“I can get it!” Her pride glittered from blue eyes that scorned his aid.

He nodded. “I imagine you can, but there’s no need.”

She turned away, bending to lift one end of a trunk the boys were struggling to shove through the doorway. And then as she stood erect, he was there once more, close behind her.

His big hands gripped her waist and he spoke gruffly against the dark braid she’d coiled on top of her head.

“Stand back, Rachel. I’ll tend to this. The boys can help me.”

She shivered in his grasp and he heard her indrawn breath. “I’m stronger than you think,” she told him, her voice containing a faint breathlessness. And then she lowered the trunk, stepping away to retreat toward the waiting wagon.

“I’ve not underestimated you, Rachel,” he said, lifting one end of the trunk with ease. He waited till her brothers passed the doorway, then, lifting the bulk of the weight, he helped them ease their burden into the wagon.

She watched him warily and her hesitant air amused him. He had her on the run, off balance and acquiescent. Just as he’d hoped, she was going along with his plan. Now if he could keep her moving, he’d have the thing accomplished before she caught her breath.

“This won’t take long.” With a hand on each of their heads, Cord turned the two boys back toward the shack.

Willingly, they followed his lead and in minutes, the motley assortment of boxes and crates had been loaded. Her mother’s rocker and feather ticks, along with her hand-carved dresser, topped the load. Their faces alight with admiration, Jay and Henry watched as the pile was secured with a rope taken from Cord’s saddle.

“That didn’t take any time, did it, Rae?” Jay’s enthusiasm was evident, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he launched himself over the tailgate.

She shook her head, scraping up a smile for the small boy’s benefit. “No, you were a big help, Jay.”

“You want to take a look in the shack, make sure you haven’t forgotten anything?” Cord’s husky voice prompted her and Rachel nodded, hurrying toward the doorway.

It was cool inside, only a trace of sunlight slanting across the floor from the single window. She looked around, taking in the dilapidated furnishings, the dirt floor and the dust motes that filtered down from the rafters. Already, the place held a deserted air.

Another few days and the last trace of crumbs on the floor would be eaten by stray critters, the wind would whistle through the broken door at night, and it would be as if they had never been there.