What
?" Golda dropped the spoon with a clatter. "
You
got a marriage proposal?"
"The second one today." Garnet nodded, clearly amused. "I have never received the slightest interest from a man in the first twenty-six years of my life. And now I've received two offers in the same day. It's astounding."
"It's shocking, that's what it is." Golda's plump little mouth tightened in an unattractive sneer. "You are too old for such attention. Those awful men are just trying to use you, Garnet. They are simply hungry for a woman's companionship and there are no other women around. They are giving you false hope."
"Oh." Garnet's step faltered.
Wyatt watched the bright gleam in her eyes dim and the smile fade from her soft mouth. For a brief moment she had looked young and so beautiful, a glimpse of her real self beneath all the burdens and responsibilities she took on so seriously and so bravely.
Wyatt's throat tightened and he stepped forward to chastise the girl, but already Garnet was talking in her typical no-nonsense fashion.
"I'm sure you're right." Garnet's step was heavier than before. "I'm sure those men are poor, misguided souls lacking a woman's helpful influence. They are so lonely that even I look appealing."
As if it didn't matter, as if her feelings weren't hurt, Garnet grabbed up a scrap of his old shirt to check the oven. Wyatt watched, his heart strung taught as a rope, not sure if it would hold or break. Garnet bent from her tiny waist and lowered the oven's lid. He watched the spare fabric of her skirt tighten across her behind.
Too much trouble, too bossy, too opinionated for the likes of him. And far too fine, courageous, and loyal.
Wyatt told himself it didn't matter that there was another knock at the door, another man eager to ask "Miss Garnet" to do his laundry. But it did.
Chapter Eight
It wasn't fair, that's what it was. Golda stood up from the washtub set beneath a tall tree's shade and stretched her stiff, aching back. She'd been working most of the evening, ever since Garnet insisted she help wash the supper dishes. Her back ached from bending over the wash-tubs. Her arms hurt from scrubbing men's dirty shirts against the washboard. Her knees hurt from kneeling in the dirt. Her normally soft, smooth hands might never recover from the harsh lye soap.
Golda left Elmer's shirts in the washwater and strolled the short distance in the shade to the creek. Her wet hands, red and wrinkled, dripped as she walked, leaving tiny droplets of mud in the ever-present dust. At least, if they earned enough money doing this awful work, they wouldn't have to stay here with Mr. Tanner. Maybe she could even talk Garnet into moving into town, so she would be closer to Lance.
She sat down on a rather large boulder and stared down at the lazy little creek. Fallen leaves floated down-stream with the current, leaves from trees that were already changing colors.
Oh, how wonderful it was to have visited with Lance the other day, despite the circumstance. Sure, that frightening Mr. Tanner had watched and listened nearly the entire time, but oh, just to see Lance's dear face. How handsome he was! Already she loved his boyish kindness, those friendly warm eyes and that charming smile.
Golda was so happy, she felt certain her heart might float up like one of those fluffy white clouds and set itself free in the sunset.
"I fear I'm a bit jealous," Lance had confessed in his tent while that nasty Mr. Tanner had stood just outside the open flap. "I used ta be the only man that knew you was here in town. I had you all to myself. But now everyone can see you, and see how downright beautiful ya are, and I fear you'll be smitten with a more dapper fella."
"Oh, no," she had been quick to assure him. She had swelled up with pride because Lance thought she was beautiful. Could a girl ask for anything more? "I'm not allowed to talk to any other men. Garnet has granted me permission to speak with you just this once."
"Yer sister's a bit . . . well, bossy, ain't she?" Lance had asked diplomatically.
"Oh," Golda had giggled; she couldn't help it. "She has been particularly unbearable lately. She spends entirely too much time with that Mr. Tanner."
Lance's eyes widened. "She ain't bein' neglectful to you, is she?"
Golda bit her lip. "She does intend to make me work like a slave."
"I've made up my mind, dearest," Lance said after great thought. "Wait for me outside Mr. Tanner's cabin in the evening."
"Oh, Lance." His name rolled off her tongue like the sweetest of candies. "I'll be waiting. But we mustn't let Garnet know."
Now, after several evenings had passed without one single sign of darling Lance, Golda felt sorely disappointed. She returned to her work, scrubbing diligently at the clothes that took a second washing to come clean. Then she heard the footsteps behind her and spun around expectantly, her heart in her throat.
It was only Garnet. "Did you remember to change the rinse water?"
"No. I've been too exhausted scrubbing these horrid shirts."
"Those horrid shirts are going to make us enough money to get home before snow flies," Garnet said in her superior way.
Golda hadn't quite noticed it before, but her sister's know-it-all attitude was really beginning to annoy her. Not that she didn't love Garnet or feel grateful. Garnet had been a mother to her, for heaven's sake. But now she was always harping on about how hard life was and how important it was to shoulder responsibilities. How dangerous men were and how worthless Pa was.
Well, Golda had never believed that about Pa, even now after he'd left them stranded here. She knew there had been a darn good reason why he had taken their money. And if their life's savings was something he needed that badly, then Golda was glad he helped himself to Garnet's reticule.
Garnet now glanced at the stack of unwashed clothes and eyed the line on which hung row after row of shirts. Her thin lips pressed together in a disagreeable frown.
"Golda, I'm sure you've done your best today, but you are going to have to work faster. We have a stack of laundry to get through, and when it's dry there's the ironing, don't forget."
Golda sighed. The task seemed unending, and she was certain Garnet was determined to kill her off with this awful, back-breaking drudgery.
"We'll work together on this tomorrow morning. Right now I want you to go inside and fry up the salt pork. Look, someone else has ridden up. I hope that's another new customer."
"Right." Golda held back the sneer until her sister was out of sight. She saw how eager Garnet was to find more shirts for her to scrub.
"
Psst
."
Golda turned toward the trees. She recognized the handsome face peering out at her through the undergrowth. Her whole heart leapt with immeasurable joy, as endless as the sky overhead, as bright as all the stars wandering through the night.
"Is she gone?" Lance asked, cautiously gazing out at the yard.
"She's gone for
now
." Golda sighed. "Oh, Lance, it's
good
to see you."
"I have to know, darling Golda." Lance stepped out of the foliage and reached gallantly for her hand. "All the men in town can't stop talkin' about you and your sister. You are such a vision. Such a beautiful princess. I know I'm not good enough for such a fine lady."
"Why, don't put yourself down, Lance–Mr. Lowell," she said, charmed beyond the capacity to think. "You're a fine man. A man any lady would be proud to know."
"But am I good enough to be your husband?" he asked anxiously. There was no mistaking the love burning in his eyes. "Would ya marry me, Golda?"
* * *
Garnet eyed the freshly shaven man as he dismounted from his bay gelding. He looked neat and tidy, and he wore such nice shoes. He wasn't a prospector, like so many of the men in this territory, but probably a shop owner. She did spy a rucksack slung over the back of his saddle and excitement thrummed in her chest. More business! Goodness, in a month, if this kept up, she would have hopes of having enough money to head home.
"Good day, ma'am," the man politely tipped his hat. "The word in town is that you are starting a laundry business."
"Yes, sir. I'm also cleaning a few of the businesses in town. Mr. Carson's store and Mr. Busby's saloon and boardinghouse." The prostitute who'd tried to help her that frightening first night in town had approached her, too, asking to hire her. Garnet didn't think she ought to list a brothel as one of her jobs, especially when she only cleaned the living quarters for the girls and the parlor.
"I'm Gus Adams and I own the Lucky Day Gambling Hall. I could use someone with your talents. I pay my bartender to clean up, but he isn't so good at it. Would you be interested in cleaning for me?"
"Very much. I do have room in my schedule." Garnet was used to teaching school during the day and coming home to do the farm work. Such stamina would serve her well now.
"Good, then I would like to hire you." Gus had dark eyes that sparkled when he smiled. "I see you're stuck out here in Wyatt's cabin. He's not the most agreeable man in these parts."
"No, but he has been the perfect gentleman," Garnet confessed, not sure if Gus intended to slight Wyatt or compliment him. "He has offered us use of his cabin, although it's a terrible inconvenience to him."
"Yes, and so far from town." Gus's mouth twisted as he thought. "I have a cabin I normally rent, but the prospector left town a few weeks ago."
"You mean, it's vacant?" Hope sizzled in her heart. Not that she wanted to leave Wyatt, but if she had her own home, a place she paid for herself, why, she would be truly independent again. And no burden to the man she was beginning to care for way too much.
"Indeed." Gus's smile deepened. "In fact, I could offer the place in trade. It's a fine cabin, with a wood floor. For say, a weekly scrubbing of my gambling hall."
"No." Garnet's blood heated at the thrill of a negotiation. "How about two free weekly scrubbings? I guarantee you'll be pleased with my work. I'll need to view the cabin first, before I decide for certain."
"Of course. Stop by any time."
Goodness, this was going much better than she'd ever hoped. She then began negotiating a fair wage for laundry services.
* * *
Garnet pushed open the stable door with a great amount of trepidation in her heart. Her negotiations with Gus Adams had proven successful, but now she needed to ask Wyatt to take her to town. He'd made her swear she wouldn't head off alone, not after the incident the other night.
How would he act? Her chest squeezed. What if he were glad to be rid of them? That's how he would probably feel, and she wasn't certain if her heart could take the disappointment of not being wanted.
"Got yourself another client, huh?" Wyatt looked up from his mare's stall. The animal was grazing outside in the dappled twilight.
"You've made yourself a cozy place here." She saw the straw pallet he'd made himself, clean blankets heaped in a corner. A barrel of molasses served as a table, and a newspaper lay open on top of it, alongside an empty tin cup. A cut log served as a chair. "I bet you'd rather have your cabin back."
"What? Are you inviting me to move in with you?" Teasing humor flickered in his eyes, more alluring and attractive than Gus's pleasant sparkles, Garnet noted. Her stomach fluttered.
"No, I just thought maybe I should move to town. Maybe it would be better for my reputation and for your peace of mind to have us gone."
"
Gone
?" Wyatt bellowed with as much fury as if she had asked for his permission to set him on fire. "What gave you that harebrained idea?"
Garnet cringed, not expecting his anger. "You want us out of your cabin."
"No, I don't."
"You never wanted us to stay, Wyatt."
"Well, that was just . . . shock, that's all. The shock of having two women thrust into my life like that." He snatched up the pitchfork, gripping it between powerful hands. Obviously in a foul mood, he paraded over to the single stall and began disturbing the straw.
"You didn't seem shocked to me. And you were very angry when I washed your blankets and all your clothes."
"I was on the verge of losing my temper. You can't hold a man to his word at a time like that." Wyatt worked the soiled straw loose and began to stack it near the door. There was no mistaking the ripple of muscle beneath his cotton shirt.
Garnet tried to look somewhere else, but her gaze wandered back to watch his shirt stretch over his chest and shoulders with each movement. My, she was growing warm. Very warm.
But Wyatt seemed unaware of her physical state and simply continued mucking out the stall. He worked steadily without glancing up, as if looking at her would only ignite his temper more thoroughly. "Don't get me wrong I want you out of my place, off my land, out of my life. With all these men coming around, ruining my peace, having you leave this very second wouldn't be soon enough for me."
"Then why don't you want me to go?" Garnet asked, truly confused.
"Because . . ." He straightened from his work pitching straw. "Your bullet wound is not fully healed. And the fact that you're penniless. Both are my fault."
"Your fault?" He amazed her, he simply amazed her. All brawn and good looks, but he was more than that. He had a heart better than any man she had ever known. "I cannot see how Pa running off with my money is your fault."
