A Hopeful Heart (16 page)

“No desk in there,” Sallie chirped and turned toward the second door.

Tressa bolted forward and closed her hand over the doorknob. “Sallie, we shouldn’t go into these rooms until Mr. Samms has given us permission to do so. Would we want someone barging into our room at Mrs. Wyatt’s house and rummaging through our things?”

Sallie bit down on her lower lip, her brow furrowed with indecision. Finally, she sighed. “All right, Tressa, I suppose you’re right. I’d not be pleased to have someone diggin’ in my bureau drawers without me knowin’.”

Tressa’s breath whooshed out in relief.

“So we’ll wait for the men to come in for lunch, an’ we’ll find out then what duties Mr. Samms would have us be performin’.”

“Good.” Tressa gave Sallie a gentle push in the direction of the kitchen. “Go stir that stew. I’m going to put the horses in the corral. When I get back, I’ll set the table for lunch.”

Tressa led the horses, one at a time, to the corral and released them to spend the day lazing in the sun. Then she hurried back to the house. When she entered, she found Sallie standing in the middle of the main room with a secretive smile on her face.

“Tressa, you’ll never guess what I found.”

Trepidation formed a stone in Tressa’s stomach when she saw the second door standing wide open. “Sallie, did you—”

“Yes, I did. An’ look!” She thrust out her hand and unfolded her fingers to reveal a delicate gold frame.

The tiny, filigreed frame drew Tressa like a magnet. She leaned close. A beautiful woman peered up at Tressa from an amazingly detailed portrait.

“Ain’t she a pretty one?” Sallie rubbed her thumb along the edge of the frame. “Makes me wonder who she is, an’ if she’s the reason Mr. Samms is so standoffish.”

Jolting upright, Tressa glared at Sallie. “Shame on you! You shouldn’t have gone rummaging through his things. This might very well be a portrait of his mother. Put it back, Sallie, at once!”

Sallie closed her fist over the picture and put her nose in the air. “Well, ye needn’t turn so high-an’-mighty. Ye enjoyed lookin’ at it, too.” She flounced through the doorway. Tressa remained rooted in the middle of the floor, deliberately avoiding so much as a glance into the bedroom. A moment later Sallie emerged and closed the door behind her. “There now, it’s safely back in the top drawer of his highboy.”

Tressa gawked at Sallie in dismay. “You opened his highboy?” Tressa remembered her father keeping his most intimate items in the highest drawer of his own highboy.

“I wanted paper.” Sallie placed her fingertips against her bodice in a gesture of innocence. Then an impish grin creased her face, and she grabbed Tressa’s wrist. “Aren’t ye curious now who she is?”

“Let’s get lunch ready.” Tressa stomped toward the kitchen. Although she refused to respond to Sallie, her traitorous heart mulled the question all afternoon, and her inability to set the image aside provided the answer. The curiosity nearly turned her inside out. Who was the lovely woman in the little frame?

16

The aroma of cinnamon and apples greeted Abel’s nose when he stepped into the house Friday evening. In response, his stomach turned a flip of desire. A glance around the living area showed throw rugs neatly placed, all wood surfaces gleaming with a fresh polish, and the pillows on the parlor set fluffed and ready for a man to sit down and relax. A feeling of satisfaction wrapped itself around him. What a difference a woman made in a house—she turned a dwelling into a
home
.

He then gave himself a mental kick, dislodging the thought. He and the men had gotten along well enough before the women came; they’d manage just fine without them again, too.

Ethan stopped beside Cole, lifted his chin, and sniffed. A smile broke across his square face. “Mmm, betcha the gals made apple pie for dessert. Smells just like Ma’s used to.” Suddenly his cheerful countenance crumbled. “But this’s the last day Miss Tressa an’ Miss Sallie’ll be comin’, ain’t it?”

An unexpected knot of regret formed in Abel’s throat. He swallowed hard and offered a brusque nod. “ ’Fraid so. Our arrangement was for one week.”

Ethan shook his head, sending a sorrowful look over his shoulder at Cole and Vince. “Sure will miss ’em. Been real good havin’ a hot meal waitin’ every mornin’, noon, an’ evenin’.”

“An’ laundry done up an’ folded at the foot of my bed,” Cole added.

Vince gave Ethan’s shoulder a slap. “Now, son, you knew this was a temporary setup meant to give them gals a little practice at housekeepin’. They never intended to
stay
.”

“But, Pa, don’t you wish they could?” Ethan’s youthful voice belied his age. He turned a pleading look at Abel. “Don’t you, Abel?”

Abel chewed the inside of his lip. Truthfully, the past week had been the most peaceful in months. Not one head of cattle had disappeared. Having all four of the men working the grounds had apparently kept the thieves at bay. He also had come to appreciate the ready meals, the fresh laundry, and the spit-shined house. Not so much as a speck of dust lurked in the corners of the rooms, and the kitchen hadn’t been so clean since Ma was alive. No one could deny that Aunt Hattie had trained the girls well. Even the fancy one masquerading in commoner’s clothing had pulled her weight. But he wouldn’t admit all that to his men.

“As Vince said, they only planned to be here for a week. No point in wishin’ for what can’t be.” He maintained a terse tone that went against his inner feelings.

“Wouldn’t hafta be only one week if one of us was to—”

Abel talked over the end of Ethan’s comment. “So let’s just enjoy this last meal tonight, an’ next week we’ll get back to our old routine.”

Ethan and Cole exchanged disgruntled looks but sauntered to the neatly set table with no further protests. Just as Abel and Vince pulled out their chairs, Miss Sallie bustled around the corner with a bowl of steaming mashed squash in her hands. She swept a quick glance across the men.

“Did ye get your hands good an’ clean at the wash bucket?”

Cole groaned. “Aw, Miss Sallie, we been workin’ hard an’ we’re hungry. We’ll wash after we eat.”

Miss Sallie shook her head, dislodging several corkscrews of red hair from her bun. “No, sir, ye wash an’
then
ye eat. Won’t be havin’ dirty hands at me table.”

Abel raised one eyebrow. Since when had his ma’s dining room table become Sallie’s?

“Miss Tressa’s got the full bucket, soap, an’ clean towels waitin’ on the back stoop. Just march yourselves out there an’ clean up good. Then we’ll be puttin’ your supper on the table.”

Grumbling, Cole and Ethan clumped through the kitchen doorway. Vince held up his palms to Sallie. “Already did my washin’ in the barn ’fore I come in.”

Sallie placed the bowl on the table and flashed a quick grin at the old cowboy. “Ye’re a good man, Mr. Rylin.” Sallie turned to Abel. “An’ did ye wash in the barn, too, Mr. Samms?”

Abel stared at her in surprise. “Why, no—no, I didn’t.”

“Then take yourself out an’ wash,” she chided. Grabbing her skirts, she whirled toward the kitchen doorway. “By the time ye’re finished, Tressa an’ me’ll have the food on the table.” She shot a grin over her shoulder. “Tressa made apple dumplin’s for dessert—ye won’t be –wantin’ to miss out on them, now.” She disappeared around the corner.

Vince chuckled. “That Miss Sallie—she’s a spirited one. Life’d never be dull with
her
around.”

Abel nodded slowly in reply, but his thoughts skipped past Vince’s comment to his strange reaction to Sallie’s mention of Tressa’s name. A bolt of lightning had fired from his scalp to his toes.

Over the past week, he’d done his best to keep his distance from the women working in his house. He’d succeeded, too, except for two encounters. Once he’d come in to retrieve a fresh pair of pants after being bumped into a mud puddle by his ornery horse, and he’d caught Tressa stripping the sheets from his bed. She’d gone scuttling out the door with her face all pink, but seeing her in the room where he slept was enough to send her drifting through his dreams for the next two nights.

Then yesterday he’d come around the barn to find her nose-to-nose with the Appaloosa she rode. He feared the image—her hands cupping the beast’s jaws, her cheek resting against the horse’s muzzle—would be burned into his memory forever. He couldn’t help but compare Tressa’s obvious ease with the big animal to a recollection of Amanda squealing and ducking from his horse’s friendly snuffle on her neck.

As much as he wanted to continue thinking of Tressa as an upper-class girl—too sophisticated and spoiled to survive on the plains—the encounter by the barn had forced him to look at her in a different light.

“So, you think you might consider askin’ that Miss Sallie to . . . stay around?”

Abel gave a start at Vince’s voice. “No.” The denial came out too loudly. Vince smirked. But before Abel could say anything else, Ethan and Cole charged into the room, followed by Sallie, who carried a platter of fried steaks. She scowled across the table at him.

“Haven’t ye gone to wash your hands yet, Mr. Samms? Ye best be hurryin’—Tressa’s dishin’ up the stewed tomatoes, an’ then it’ll be time to eat.”

Although the water bucket waited outside the back door, Abel decided to leave through the front door. That way he wouldn’t have to pass through the kitchen and risk seeing Tressa at his ma’s stove, looking as though she belonged. He didn’t need any more pictures to carry in his head.

“Tressa, might I be makin’ a confession?”

Tressa shifted her gaze from a hawk circling high overhead to Sallie. Since leaving the Lazy S, they’d ridden in silence, the whispering wind, distant lowing of cattle, and call of birds providing the only intrusions. At Sallie’s serious question, Tressa crinkled her brow. “What is it, Sallie?”

“I’m feelin’ rather sad.” Sallie puckered her lips, her eyes downcast. “I wasn’t ready to be done at the Lazy S.”

Tressa offered a sympathetic nod. Although she wouldn’t admit it to Sallie, her heart felt heavy, too. The week of seeing to the needs of Abel Samms and his ranch hands hadn’t been unpleasant. Despite her earlier misgivings, she’d found the men appreciative of all the women provided, and she’d discovered an element of contentment in seeing to their needs.

Thinking back to her years living with Aunt Gretchen and Uncle Leo, she couldn’t recall the household servants behaving as though they enjoyed serving. In fact, she’d frequently heard them grumble about their endless responsibilities. Yet essentially she and Sallie had acted as servants in Abel Samms’ home. So why had the experience been rewarding rather than a burden?

“Know what I’m goin’ to miss the most?” Sallie’s pensive voice cut into Tressa’s thoughts again. “Seein’ Cole dig into his plate while smilin’ so big his whole face lit up.” She chuckled, the sound affectionate. “He’s a man who enjoys eatin’ for sure.”

Tressa smiled. Yes, Cole wasn’t bashful about his enjoyment of their cooking. None of the men had voiced a single complaint about anything placed on the table and were especially fond of the pastries Mrs. Wyatt had taught Tressa to bake.

“An’ ye know, I’m thinkin’ he might be missin’ me, too.” Sallie flitted a sidelong glance at Tressa before looking forward. Her cheeks streaked with pink, masking the spattering of copper-colored freckles. “Him an’ me . . . we had a couple of moments alone, an’ . . .”

Tressa spun on the saddle, nearly upsetting her seat. She clutched the saddle horn as the horse shifted nervously beneath her. Mrs. Wyatt had cautioned them about spending time alone with any of the men. The day Abel had walked in while she was removing the sheets from his bed, she’d nearly tripped over herself trying to escape, lest she give Sallie the mistaken idea she’d intended to steal a moment of time with him.

“Sallie, you spent time
alone
with Cole?”

Sallie nodded, her blush increasing to a fiery red that matched her flame-colored hair. “Yes. An’ once in the barn, when I was puttin’ away the horses, Cole . . . he kissed me.” She whispered the last words. “An’ I didn’t go runnin’ in fear.” Her eyes widened in wonder as she faced Tressa. “I never thought I’d be able to—” She clamped her mouth closed and looked down at her thumbs, which twitched on the horse’s reins. “It was a precious moment to me, Tressa, for many reasons.”

Tressa carefully processed Sallie’s words. Her heart pounded as she realized the hidden meaning behind the whispered admission. Perhaps living with Aunt Gretchen and Uncle Leo wasn’t the worst plight that could befall a person.

Giving the horse’s reins a gentle tug to slow his pace, Tressa looked at Sallie. “So if Cole were to ask Mrs. Wyatt for permission to court you, would you be agreeable?”

Sallie offered a shy smile. “I would be agreeable.” Then she sighed, shaking her head. “But he won’t be askin’. Not that he doesn’t like me—he already told me he does—but he’s not a rancher, just a ranch hand. He has no place of his own. He shares a bunkhouse with Mr. Rylin an’ his son. Where would he keep a wife?” Another heavy sigh told of Sallie’s disappointment. “It’s best we aren’t at the Samms’ place anymore. Bein’ around Cole, knowin’ we can’t ever be together, would be too hard. For him . . . an’ for me.”

Tressa pondered the unfairness of the situation as she and Sallie continued plodding toward the Flying W. If a person genuinely cared for another, then something so simple as a dwelling place shouldn’t stand in the way. Tressa dared to offer a promise. “Tonight, when the others have gone on to bed, I’ll talk with Mrs. Wyatt. Surely she can find a way for things to work out between you and Cole.” After all the difficulties Sallie had faced prior to coming to Kansas, she deserved the chance to capture happiness with Cole, if she so desired.

“Aw, I’d thank ye, Tressa, if you’d be doin’ that for me.” A grin twitched her cheek. “An’ what of ye, Tressa? Will ye be missin’ Mr. Samms or the young Mr. Rylin?”

Tressa turned a frown on Sallie. “And why, pray tell, should I miss them?”

Sallie clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Oh, you’re not foolin’ me with that monstrous scowl. Do ye think I’ve not got eyes in me head?” She tapped her forehead. “I saw the way the men watched ye, an’ I saw how careful ye were to avoid lookin’ at ’em.”

Tressa jerked her face forward, refusing to meet Sallie’s teasing expression. Sallie’s assessment wasn’t incorrect—she had kept her focus on working rather than fraternizing. It had proved amazingly simple with Mr. Samms, as he seemed as determined as she to avoid contact. But Ethan Rylin had openly sought snatches of time with her, moseying by the garden when she was picking vegetables or appearing in the barn when she was preparing to saddle her horse. She had recognized his ploys and managed to remain kind but cool in the face of his attentiveness, accepting his assistance without encouraging him to pamper her.

Raising her chin, she offered a tart rejoinder. “I merely attempted to remain committed to the tasks at hand rather than allowing one of the men to distract me from my duties.”

To Tressa’s aggravation, Sallie burst out laughing. “Ah, Tressa, ye’re such a funny one, drawin’ on that fancy talk when ye’re rattled. It’s a sure giveaway that I’ve struck a sore spot.”

Tressa drew in a sharp breath. Would she ever learn to speak like a working-class girl? The last time she’d spouted in such a manner, she had sent Abel Samms ducking for cover as if she’d hurled rotten apples at him. Her heart ached, remembering how his tender attention had changed to apprehensive avoidance. If she wasn’t careful, she would lose her friendship with Sallie.

Tressa offered Sallie a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Sallie. I didn’t mean to be haughty. Will you forgive me?”

Sallie waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh now, don’t be apologizin’. I provoked ye, for sure, an’ deserved the sharp side of your tongue. I was just hopin’ that maybe ye
would
be missin’ one of them.”

“Why?”

Sallie’s grin turned mischievous. “Well, if ye were to take up with Ethan Rylin an’ I took up with Cole Jacobs, then we could keep workin’ together at the ranch. It’s a mite easier to share the cookin’ an’ cleanin’ chores rather than handlin’ it all alone, y’know.”