The Nanny

He looked at her long and hard. “I asked you what’s going on here.”

Cassie buried her face in Annie’s neck, holding on tighter. Ginny and Drew squeezed closer.

Certainly the man should know what his children had been up to. Shooting a person with a slingshot deserved punishment of some sort. But with the children cowering around her, Annie simply couldn’t bring herself to tell him what they’d done.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Mr. Ingalls,” Annie said.

His eyes narrowed. He knew she was lying.

“I objected to their behavior,” she said. “I told them so.”

Josh’s brows went up. “And?”

Annie gazed right back at him. “You needn’t worry yourself with the details, Mr. Ingalls. I handled the situation.” She dropped Cassie to the ground and urged the children away. “Run along, now.”

For an instant they stood there, glancing at their father, then at Annie. She gave Ginny a little push. “It’s all right. Go play.”

Ginny grabbed her sister’s hand and the three of them raced away.

Annie watched them go, feeling the relief she’d seen in their little faces. Feeling, also, the heat of Josh’s gaze on her back.

She took a breath and turned to him. He didn’t seem to notice her as he watched the children disappear into the corn rows. “Damn…for what I pay a nanny, you’d think I could keep one here.”

Josh stared after the children a while longer, then looked down at Annie. “Come up to the house. Now.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, just touched his heels to the horse’s sides and galloped away.

A numb silence hung in his wake. Not even leaves dared to rustle in the trees overhead. Annie stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.

He was going to fire her.

Only a short while ago, everything had—finally—started to look up for her. She had a job she liked. She could help provide for her family.

She could save her little sister.

Annie’s stomach twisted into a knot. Of all the things that troubled her, that one was the worst.

Now, like everything else in her future, it was all gone. Simply because she couldn’t mind her own business.

Josh Ingalls would fire her. She was sure of it. And why shouldn’t he? After the way she’d spoken to him, the way she’d taken it upon herself to discipline his children.

It was none of her business. None at all.

With a heavy sigh, Annie headed toward the house. As she passed the garden, three little faces peeked out through the cornstalks.

“You’re gonna get it,” Drew predicted grimly.

“Get it good,” Ginny agreed solemnly.

Cassie nodded wisely.

Annie drew in a breath, shaking off the fear humming in her veins. “I’m sure your father simply wants to discuss something with me.”

The three children shared a skeptical look and shook their heads gravely.

Annie squared her shoulders and marched on toward the house.

“Wait!” Ginny ran after her and tugged her sleeve. “Are you going to tell Papa what we did? With the slingshot?”

Gazing down at the three frightened faces, Annie still couldn’t bring herself to tell their papa what they’d done.

“What happened is between us,” she told the children. “It’s our business. No one else’s.”

“That means you ain’t gonna tell?” Drew asked.

Annie smiled. “That’s exactly what it means.”

His eyes widened. “Truly? You ain’t gonna tell on us?”

“Truly,” Annie said.

Instead of a thank-you, or even a smile, Drew stuck out his tongue at her. Ginny grabbed little Cassie’s hand and they all ran away.

For a moment, Annie considered running after them. Escape. It certainly seemed preferable to what lay ahead of her at Mr. Ingalls’s house.

Annie trudged on. The house came into view. She imagined Josh Ingalls inside at this very moment, telling his foreman to find someone else to tend the gardens.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that Josh Ingalls was also looking for a nanny.

Her footsteps slowed as her mind spun. Annie had seen the last nanny leave two days ago. What was it Josh had said in the meadow just now? Something about how much he paid his nanny?

Money. Annie’s heart beat faster. She needed money for her family. If a nanny earned more than a farm worker, maybe she could—

At the rain barrel at the corner of the cookhouse, Annie pushed her straw hat off, letting it dangle against her back, and washed her face and hands. She did her best to brush the dust and dirt from her clothes.

Gracious, she hardly looked fit to enter such a fine home, especially now when she desperately needed to make a good impression. Now, with this great idea bubbling in her mind.

Annie hurried up the back steps. A woman blocked the door—tall, thin, with her dark hair streaked with gray and drawn back in a severe bun. She wore a black dress and a frown.

Mrs. Flanders, surely. Annie had never met the woman, but the other field workers she’d talked to here at the Ingalls farm had spoken of her. She ran the house.

“Miss Martin?” she asked, looking her up and down.

Annie managed a nod, feeling all the more out of place in her plain clothing.

“Follow me,” Mrs. Flanders instructed.

Trailing her through the house, Annie found her heart thumping in her chest. Thick carpets with intricate designs lay on the floors. Graceful furniture with carved arms and legs filled the rooms, along with framed paintings, delicate lanterns and figurines. Everything was elegant and pristine.