The Rancher's Wife

At once it disappeared. Elizabeth wasn’t used to compliments. She stepped out of the spring house and started across the gentle slope to the house.

“Did I upset you? I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You look upset.”

“Well, I’m not.” She refused to look at him, even when he held the back door open for her.

“Come upstairs. I’ll show you to your room and Mary Kate’s.” He picked up her bundle from where he had left it in the kitchen and led her through the house and up the stairs.

Elizabeth was glad to follow him. This way she could look at him without being seen. His compliment had left her feeling uncomfortable. He was newly widowed. He had no business complimenting a woman. He was still in deep mourning, even if he wasn’t wearing black. And for that matter, why wasn’t he? In Elizabeth’s opinion, no recently bereaved man should be able to smile, let alone to smile in a way that made her world rock. She had been alone too much. That had to be it.

Brice indicated the first door in the upstairs hall. “This is my room. If you ever need me in the middle of the night, all you have to do is call out.”

“Why would I need you in the middle of the night?” she asked suspiciously.

“In case the baby gets sick.”

“Of course.” She felt her cheeks warming and hoped he didn’t notice.

“Your room is here.” He opened the door to the bedroom that adjoined his own. “In the summer you can leave the veranda door open and the room will be cooler. There’s always a breeze here in the summer. We share the veranda, but you can trust me to respect your privacy. As you’ll notice the door between the rooms has been blocked shut by Celia’s armoire.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He looked around at the room as if he were deep in thought “This was Celia’s room. During her pregnancy she was ill quite often and preferred to sleep alone. But even before that she had taken this room for her own. It was the way she wanted it.”

Elizabeth gazed around the room. That explained why the wallpaper was sprigged with roses and violets and why the curtains were lace. Not one item in the room was masculine.

“This is rather delicate, but I don’t know of any other way to say it,” he began awkwardly. “Celia’s clothes are still here. I didn’t know what to do with them, and they didn’t fit Consuela. If you’d like them, you’re welcome to them. I think you’re about the same size. Otherwise, I guess I’ll have to burn them.”

“It would be a waste to burn clothing!” Elizabeth exclaimed. All the years of her marriage, she had seldom owned more than two extra dresses. The thought of burning a garment was unacceptable. Cloth was too difficult to acquire. Dresses weren’t simple to make. “I can make them over if they don’t fit. But won’t they be unpleasant reminders to you? I don’t want to offend you.”

“No, I would rather someone get some use out of them. She had some she never even wore.” He stepped back into the hall. “You can have anything in the room.” He went across the hall to a room painted in a shade of pale rose. “This is Mary Kate’s nursery.”

There was no need for him to have pointed that out. It was obvious that someone had spent hours making baby blankets, gowns and bonnets. Crib-sized quilts lay folded at the end of the baby’s bed. It didn’t escape Elizabeth that pink was the predominant color. If Mary Kate had been a boy, several baby things Celia had made would have been too feminine for his use.

As if Brice were following her thoughts, he said, “Celia’s mother sent all these things. As you can see, she was determined that the baby would be a girl. I don’t think she has much use for males. Celia came from a house full of sisters and two maiden aunts, in addition to her parents. The absence of women out here was very disturbing to her.”

“I see.”

“I had hoped she would become friends with you.”

“I hoped so, too.”

“You can change anything you like in the nursery or your room. All I ask is that you leave mine alone.”

“I’ll only go in there to clean.”

Their eyes met, and Elizabeth was aware of the intimacy of their surroundings. She stood there holding his child and speaking of his bedroom in the most ordinary of tones. She had to look away. She wasn’t entirely sure she could trust him not to take advantage of her.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asked.

“No,” she said a bit too quickly. “Why would you wonder such a thing?”

“Maybe it’s because you make me nervous as hell.” He turned and left the room without further explanation.

She stared after him.

Chapter Three

Brice tugged at the leather strap he was threading into the buggy harness. The air in the barn was still and colder than the air outside but he didn’t mind. He could use some cooling off.

Elizabeth had been at the house only half a day, and just knowing she was there was driving him to distraction.

“Damn!” he muttered as he yanked on the strap. It twisted and lodged firmly behind the concho. He frowned at it.

“Want me to do that?” Cal asked from the nearby stall. He was grooming a mare that was due to foal soon. Cal was much better with animals than with humans.

“No, I can do it.”

Cal turned back to the horse. The rhythmic sound of his brushing picked up again After a while, he left the stall and passed Brice on the way to the tack room. Brice could hear the man’s unspoken oomment They had worked together so many hours that words were seldom necessary.

“That bright bay can draw the buggy,” Brice responded. “She’s a smart trotter and she’ll look good in harness.”

“Yep.”

“It’ll be good for Mary Kate to get out in the fresh air. Children need sunshine, too.”

Cal only glanced at him and tossed the horse brush into the box by the tack door. He reached through the doorway and got a lead rope.

“I’m doing it for Mary Kate, not Elizabeth.”

Cal took a long time looping the lead neatly in his left hand. “I thought her name was Mrs. Parkins.”

“That’s what I said. Mrs. Parkins.”

One of Cal’s rare grins spread across his wrinkled, weathered face as he sauntered back to the stall.

Brice tugged the strap through the concho and this time it threaded straight. “You talk too much, Cal I’ve noticed that about you before.” He grinned at the man.

Cal only granted. He snapped the lead. onto the pregnant mare’s halter and led her out of the barn to the feedlot to graze on hay he’d spread there earlier.

Brice picked up the other end of the strap and started working it through the other side of the harness. He heard footsteps behind him and said without turning, “She’s pretty. Did you notice that, Cal?”

“Who is?” Elizabeth asked as she looked around. “Are you talking to me?”

Brice jerked his head around. “I thought you were Cal.” Politely he got to his feet and nodded a greeting.