The Nanny Solution (13 page)

Chapter Sixteen

M
itch watched Victoria blush the deepest red he'd ever seen. And worse, she did not back up.

Whoa.
He
stepped back. She had no idea what she was doing and he would not allow her into his family's lives, into his
life
, only to have her realize how hard it could be here. She hadn't even experienced a winter in Colorado.

Speaking of which, it was getting late in the afternoon, and the sun would soon dip down behind the mountains, plunging everything from his ranch to the far side of Proud Bend into a chilly twilight. It wouldn't be safe for her to be out riding at that time, and with Jake still up in the north pasture—he'd taken the dog Growler with him to help keep the herd back while he fixed a portion of fencing—Mitch could not leave here to escort her home.

He tightened his jaw. Victoria wanted to stay, and if Mitch was truly honest with himself, he wanted her there, as well. But his wants had to be ignored. The family would suffer and he didn't feel like being betrayed again. Yeah, he was unwilling to admit that his pride had been hurt when she asked about Emily. A moot point now, he told himself. Victoria knew Emily wasn't his child.

With straight shoulders and a gruff tone, he added, “Go home, Victoria. It's going to be dark soon and when the sun goes down, it gets a whole lot colder than you have ever experienced in Boston. It's not safe after dark, either.”

Victoria's eyes strayed to a spot behind him, and Mitch turned. His heart plummeted. John and Ralph had roused from their sickbeds to peer around the corner at them. “Back to bed, both of you.”

“I'm thirsty,” Ralph whined. “I want Miss Templeton to give me a drink of water.”

“
I
can do that in a minute. Now, go lie down.”

Thankfully, both boys returned to their beds. Mitch watched them with a heavy heart. When he heard a slight sobbing noise, he turned back to Victoria.

Her hand to her mouth, she was fleeing out of the door. By the time he got himself in gear and rushed toward her, she was already at her mount, a beautiful piebald mare slightly smaller than average and with a dainty, English sidesaddle.

He stopped and gripped the jamb as he watched in fascination. With one single, flowing movement, she unclipped her apron skirt, revealing fine linen breeches the same color as her skirt and tall black boots. Within seconds, she'd mounted astride. Then, the obedient mare lowered her head, allowing Victoria to swing her right leg over to the left to fit into the sidesaddle pommel. She was remarkably agile, a testament to her good training, for he'd never before seen a woman mount sidesaddle without assistance.

Victoria then whipped the apron skirt back over her lap and fastened it quickly in place at her right hip. She gently tapped the pony's off side to lead the well-trained piebald to a gentle trot.

And she was gone, tearstained face and all.

Mitch sagged. It was for the best, he told himself. All of them, Victoria, too, would have been hurt if she'd stayed. She was magnificent, not only in her beauty, but in her ability to adapt, but this would be too much to adapt to.

Mary was suddenly at his side. She was the one who'd fought this flu the fastest, and he'd sent her outside for fresh air. She didn't need to breathe in the sick air all day. Although she still looked pale and hadn't moved more than a few bored steps around the house, she tugged his hand. “Papa, why did you send her away? To get a doctor?”

“No. She can't help, that's all.”

“What if John and Ralph and Matthew get sicker? What if they die?”

Mitch's heart hitched and he pulled his daughter into his arms and held her tight. “No one is going to die, Sweetpea,” he crooned, using the little pet name he'd called her when she was just a toddler. “We'll all be fine in a day or two. Come on in and help me with the broth for your brothers.”

“Can I feed Emily? Jake milked that momma sheep and Emily likes it. Can I feed her, please?”

Mitch hadn't wanted to leave the baby in Mary's youthful care, but he didn't want Mary working around the stove ladling hot broth, either. He would just have to keep an eye on her as he made the meal. Decision made, he nodded.

He'd no sooner found the milk Jake had set in the well when pounding hooves drew his attention away. Victoria? His disloyal heart leaped, but he crushed the expectation and looked up.

Jake rode straight into the barn. Across his lap lay Growler, the dog limp and bouncing with the horse's gait. Mitch rushed over. “What's wrong?”

“Trouble.” Jake dismounted quickly and laid the dog on the nearby hay. “Those half-breed mongrels of Donner's got into the north pasture. Five of them took down the donkey before Growler got at 'em.”

Mitch bent down. Growler lifted his head and licked his hand. Blood matted his fur in several spots that were obvious puncture wounds.

Jake busied himself with his horse, calming the animal who was clearly spooked. “Growler will be fine. I'll clean his wounds in a minute. But the herd isn't so good. They stampeded out to the west into that pasture that leads to Blue Gulch. That's all I can say right now. But I got the fencing pulled closed, so they can't move.” He looked over his shoulder with a grim expression. “We've lost a few of the heifers you sold. They fell into the gulch. I hadn't even delivered 'em, yet. Those men are gonna want their money back, Mitch.” He sighed. “You aren't going to make that bank payment.”

Mitch's gut twisted. Jake had been fixing the fence with the barbed wire Mitch had ordered in from out east. He was thankful Jake wasn't hurt in the stampede, and that he'd had the presence of mind to close up the pasture. Noting Jake's shredded shirt, he knew his ranch hand had torn strips off his clothing to tie onto the wire to warn the cattle away.

Mitch had only just started to fence in his herd. Most ranchers allowed their cattle to wander the foothills and the fields around their ranches, only corralling and sorting the herds in the fall. Mitch owned his land and wanted his herd to stay put. The grass was plentiful, the water source fresh, and he could keep an eye on them that way. Donner, his neighbor, never liked that. But to punish Mitch by allowing his dogs to harass Mitch's herd and therefore ruin his ability to meet his mortgage payment? Could Donner do that? Mitch didn't want to speculate.

“At first light, we'll have to move the rest of them out of there. I used the fencing that was supposed to go along the side that touches Donner's land.” Jake peered at Mitch. “You need to get over to Donner and tell him to tie up those mutts. This isn't the first time they've roamed in a pack and killed. I heard they ran up to the Westwind Ranch this spring and took down some calves.”

Mitch had heard that the Westwind Ranch had financial hardships. The deaths of their calves had no doubt added to those hardships. They were still operating, but how, Mitch didn't know.

He would confront Edgar Donner, all right, but it wasn't a task he relished. Donner was well-known to be one of Walter Smith's cronies. He was argumentative and cared little for his herd. Mitch had secretly wondered where the man got all his money. He never sold any of his stock but rather allowed them to wander the various upper pastures, expecting the other ranchers to deliver them at the end of the summer.

Jake's question intruded on his thoughts. “I saw someone galloping down the lane as I was coming in. Looked like a woman, what with the long skirt.”

“It was Victoria.”

“Why was she here?”

Mitch tightened his jaw. “She came to apologize.”

Finished with the quick grooming of his horse, Jake led the animal into its stall. “For what?”

“Never mind,” Mitch growled. “She's gone. And for good.”

“Too bad she didn't offer to help around here. We both should get up to the pasture in the morning.”

“She did offer. I sent her packing.”

Jake snapped his head around. “She offered to help and you refused her? What's wrong with you?”

Mitch didn't want to hear he'd made a mistake, especially from his ranch hand. “Don't you start. It would never have worked out.”

“How do you know?”

“I know, all right? Now, give it a rest.”

With a shake of his head, Jake went to tend to the dog.

“Is Growler going to be all right, Papa?”

Mitch jerked around. Mary stood there, holding a whining Emily in her arms.

His foolish pride had sent Victoria packing.

When pride cometh, then cometh shame.

His pastor's words echoing in his head, Mitch strode over and scooped up both Mary and the baby. There was nothing he could do until he hired a decent housekeeper. The day after tomorrow was Sunday and by then, the children should be healthy enough to attend church. He'd ask his pastor again. It would all work out, he told himself fiercely. He'd done the right thing, sending Victoria away.

So why did it not feel that way?

* * *

Victoria rapped lightly on Rachel's door. It was still early, not yet suppertime, so she might be able to catch her cousin before the woman left for the evening. Victoria refused to ponder where the woman went. Her activities, however disconcerting they were, were none of her business.

Allowing her hand to drop, Victoria cringed. She'd ridden home at a brisk pace. Her riding outfit and corset were both rigid, forcing her to lean back uncomfortably. Her legs ached, too, for she hadn't ridden in such a long time.

Mitchell had been correct when he said it turned cool at night. She managed to reach the stables just as the sun dipped down behind the mountains. By then her feet had been frozen, and even now, standing before Rachel's door, she found herself still shivering.

She'd shed more than a few tears, too. Mitchell would sooner let his family suffer than take her help, but now, in retrospect, she understood. She would have only made things worse. He'd been right and it hurt so much, she'd cried most of the way home.

But it was Mitchell's soft plea for her to leave that had really flustered her. It was as though a part of him wanted her to stay. Did he not trust himself? Her heart hitched. Had he really wanted to kiss her?

How did she feel about it? A few weeks ago, she'd never have entertained the thought that a rancher, a man who worked with his hands, would try to woo her. Nor had any man ever stated so bluntly that he wanted to kiss her.

It was a dangerous desire.

She fought back the heat that flooded into her face just as the door opened. Rachel stood there, her outfit simple and modest, but warm. A lovely, fashionable hat perched on her head and Victoria's trained eye spied a discreet pearl pin holding it secure. Obviously, Rachel was preparing to leave.

“I know you plan to go out, and I won't take a moment, but I need to ask a favor.”

“Come in,” Rachel said briskly as she backed away from the door.

Once inside with the door closed firmly behind them, Victoria began. “I need your help, but I'm not sure you can even help me. I don't want to ask Aunt Louise or Uncle Walter. They may not approve.”

Brows raised, Rachel walked over to her dressing table and began to put small notebooks into her purse. “I'm intrigued. But saying my parents may not approve doesn't mean much. Father misbehaves more than anyone I know. I can't imagine what he wouldn't approve of.”

Victoria blushed. Rachel was nothing if she wasn't candid. And what were those small sheets of paper she was tucking away? They looked like tiny newspapers. Or Bible tracts.

“So,” Rachel said as she pulled on the drawstrings of her purse. “What is it?”

“I want to learn how to run a household. More specifically, how to run an ordinary household.”

“Mother could teach you that.”

“I'm not sure. Can Aunt Louise build a fire and make porridge and do laundry?”

Rachel laughed. “That kind of household! I can see why you are reluctant to ask her. I don't think she's ever done laundry in her life. And since Father wants to marry you off to Clyde, I would say he wouldn't approve of your request, either. By the way, I should warn you. Today is Friday and Friday evenings are when Clyde makes his appearances. And why I choose to avoid supper and leave early.”

Victoria swallowed. She didn't have the luxury of being born the daughter in this household. Or have the boldness that Rachel wore with the ease of last season's fashions. Could Victoria merely refuse to see Clyde? She'd met him at the train station and that had been enough for her. Even now, the memory of his assessing look made her shiver.

But if she stood up to Uncle Walter, what would happen to her? Would she be tossed out onto the street?

Before dealing with Clyde Abernathy, she had another problem to address.

“Rachel, I don't have any idea how to do even the simplest household tasks. My mother was adamant that we maintain the appearance of wealth, but you and I both know what happened to my money. That's why I'm here.”

“And my mother was probably quick to remind you of that?”

“Not really.” Victoria didn't want to add that she thought her aunt was a gossip.

“How odd. Mother married Father for his money, and he married her for the prestige of a good Boston family. It was an arrangement that suited both parties. Did you know the real money is here out West? Father promised her the lifestyle she was used to, but don't be fooled by her decorum. Father isn't maintaining the high standards Mother was born into, so she prefers to walk around with blinders on. In other words, Mother believes that if she can't see Father's less than stellar behavior, it therefore doesn't exist.”

What a scathing assessment of her parents, Victoria thought. And while Victoria hadn't sensed that behavior in her aunt, it did give her pause. Had her own perception of her life in Boston been like her aunt's here? Had she been deluding herself into thinking she had been living in an idyllic world?