Chasing Clovers (3 page)

But now that she was here, he could tell she
was hiding something more from him. He could see it in the way her green eyes darted warily away from his. And when he touched her, she went stiff as a board and her pretty face lost all color. She was afraid of him and that only meant one thing.

Some
one had mistreated her.

He
made his way toward the house, his eyes drawn to the oak tree where Becky rested. He'd never love another the way he'd loved her. Regret settled deep inside his soul.

Was he betraying Becky
? Would she understand why he'd sent for Livy?

He dug his hand into his pocket and found the heart-shaped locket. He
'd given it to Becky on their first anniversary. He carried it with him after she died. It was the only thing he had left of her, and he kept it as close to his heart as possible.

Once inside the house,
Livy let the satchel fall with a thump to the wooden floor.

This just won
't work.

He
had already caught her in one lie and he was bound to catch her in all the others she'd told him. Then what? Where would she go then?

She
released a frustrated sigh. She was desperate. Worst of all, she was tired of being alone. Tired of always looking over her shoulder. Tired of the nightmares.

She plopped down on the bench by the door
.

She didn
't belong here.

She
shook her head. "I don't belong anywhere."

She had nowhere to go and little money saved. If she left the ranch, she'd be back to singing for money, a thought that sent shivers up her spine. She couldn't go back to that life. Her stomach knotted as she clasped her hands together. No, she would make it work here. She'd clean, cook―or at least try to―and she'd be kind.

A loud sniffle
pulled her from her thoughts.

In the hallway, a young
girl clutched a tattered white blanket. She stared at Livy with wide, tearful blue eyes. She was about two or three years old, with thin, stringy blonde hair. She wore a dusty-rose pinafore smeared with dirt.

Livy blinked
. "Emma?"

Raw emotions rolled through her, paralyzing her. A piercing, knee-buckling pain zigzagged across her chest. She couldn't catch her breath.

Breathe! In. Out.

Emma
's face was there. Her smell. Her blonde, frizzy hair.

Livy
covered her face and rocked back and forth on the bench.

Emma…my
baby…my darling little girl.

Something touched
her knee. Through tear-filled eyes, she saw a small, dimpled hand, so sweet and perfect.

But not her Emma
's.

She had to put some space between her and this child, so she ran to the door, flung it open and slammed right into a wall.

Someone gripped her shoulders
.

Blinded by
grief, she struggled to get free. Misery overwhelmed her, causing her insides to churn. She needed to get away. Fast. She gathered enough strength to shove the barrier out of her way and ran to the railing on the deck. She leaned over and emptied her stomach on the bushes below.

"
No tears, Livy,"
she mumbled. "No tears.
The past is that, gone forever
."

But it didn
't feel that way to her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She would give her life if she could hold her little girl one more time. To smell her hair, kiss her soft ch
eeks. A sob escaped as tears streamed down her face.

You are starting over. You have to
.

She was still bent over the railing when a cool hand touched the nape of her neck. A cup of water was placed in front of her.

"
Drink," John said.

Her
heart raced. How long had he been there? Had he heard her? Afraid to look at him, she kept her eyes down and picked up the glass. She took a sip, hoping it wouldn't come back up.

"
Motion sickness," she lied to him again. "I…I get motion sickness."

"
Uh huh."

He didn't believe her?

She glanced up at him, her hair free from the braid hanging in her eyes.

"
It
is
a bumpy ride." He smoothed a loose strand behind her ear. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready to come in."

When he disappeared inside the house, relief washed over her
. She leaned against the wall and sipped the water. She hadn't expected John's daughter to affect her like that.

"
What did you expect?" she muttered.

If she were
to live here, she had to find a way to be comfortable around the girl.

She
took a few deep breaths, patted her hair into place and strode toward the door.

If she were
lucky, she wouldn't see the child again for a while.

CHAPTER TWO

She
found John seated at the kitchen table. Well over six feet tall, with wide shoulders and a muscled chest, he made the spacious room seem smaller. She pulled her gaze from his body, and did a quick scan for his daughter. She couldn't help the sigh that escaped when the child was nowhere to be seen.

"
I poured you a cup of coffee."He slid the tin cup in her direction. "Can't say that it's hot, but I'm used to that."

H
e shrugged and his mouth tilted upwards in a half smile.

His eyes followed her as she placed the cup she
'd been holding on the side counter. Hands shaking, she pulled the chair back to take a seat across from him.

"
Thank you," she said softly, and cradled the mug of coffee between her hands.

He was right. It wasn
't hot, but it was warm and she squeezed the cup a little harder. She couldn't keep her eyes from wandering about the neat and tidy kitchen, so unlike the saloon kitchens where she worked.

The window above the wash basin was open to allow the hot breeze to flow through, and the white lace curtains added a woman
's touch. It was a small window, but it let the sun in to brighten the room.

The long wooden table they were seated at was in t
he middle of the room and appeared to be made by hand, John's no doubt. A cook stove stood against one wall and an icebox occupied part of the opposite wall. She took a deep breath and could smell a mixture of lilacs, coffee, and man.

This was to be her new home.
A new life, and even if she didn't want to be here, even if she wanted to bolt for the front door and run far up into the mountains she saw earlier, she couldn't. She had to stay. She had to be kind. She had to smile. Livy hadn't smiled―really smiled―since before Emma died. Her stomach pitched, and she took a deep, shaky breath
.

Breathe, in, out. You can do this
.

She didn
't have a choice. It was either this, or go back to the saloons and the dirty cowboys, the memories, and the fear.

"
I didn't mean to …" John began in an apologetic voice.

"
I think we should start over," she interrupted.

He smiled, easing the tension between them as well as her frayed nerves. "Good idea."

The chair groaned as he
stood up. "Your bedroom is upstairs, first door on the left. Mine is across from yours. Ben and Emily's are at the end of the hall. And the outhouse is out back past the garden."

"
Okay."

He took his hat off to wipe the sweat from his forehead
.

"
Alice will be leaving today. She was watching the children for me while I was in town. She can show you where everything is, you'll find her out back in the garden with Emily."

"
I will find her when we're done talking."

"
The evening meal is at six, and you only have to worry about me and the kids. The men take their meals in the cookhouse."

She had to cook today? Heaven help her
—could this day get any worse? She chewed on her bottom lip as her mind raced through the short list of things she knew how to make.

I
'll make sandwiches and some canned fruit. That can't be too hard.

"
The meal will be ready at six."

John remained a moment longer
. Livy, sensing he had more to say, waited patiently for him to continue. Instead, he pulled his hat down onto his head and placed the mug in the wash basin on the counter.

"
I've got work to do. See you at supper," he mumbled before he walked out the back door.

She listened as his boots stomp down the steps, and slowly faded away.
S
he sighed.

"
Alone at last."

Leaving h
er cup on the table, she strode out of the kitchen into what seemed like a sitting room. On the far wall stood a shelf full of books. She examined the colorful bindings lined up neatly on each ledge. She'd never seen so many books in her life, and wondered if John had read them all. She ran her hand along the tall and short bindings while surveying the room. A fireplace protruded from the corner. Around the opening sat jagged pieces of brown, grey and rust-colored stone. A sofa and chair on either side. Closing her eyes, she imagined sitting here warm and cozy, a book in hand as the snow fell outside.

"
You must be Olivia."

Caught day dreaming,
she spun around and saw a short elderly woman standing in the doorway of the room, holding the little girl's hand. Livy's heart skipped and her hands grew clammy. She tried not to look at the child. "Yes, I am."

"
I'm Alice." A friendly smile on her wrinkled face, she glanced down at the girl, and tugged gently on her hair. "And this here is Miss Emily."

"
Hello," she said, her voice shaking. The child made her uncomfortable, and she could feel her chest grow tight.

She
was glad that Alice didn't seem to notice her resistance to the girl. It was better to keep her insecurities, and the way the girl affected her, to herself. If Alice suspected anything, she was sure to ask questions. And Livy had told enough lies for one day.

"
Benjamin will be in right away. He's a fine lad too." The woman patted Emily's head.

Livy could see that Alice was very fond of the children. She tried to smile back, but only made it half way. "I'm told I have to cook dinner tonight."

"
Yes, six o'clock." Alice motioned to the kitchen. "I started a stew on the stove for you. All you have to do is add the vegetables Emily and I dug out of the garden."

She
sighed with relief. She wasn't keen on sandwiches and was sure John would want more than that for his evening meal.

"
That was very kind of you," she said.

With no idea how to cook, she was sure she would make a mess of things tonight on her first try. She
'd already decided to stay up half the night reading her new cook book, in the hope of finding a few easy recipes. With luck, she wouldn't kill any of them.

"
How about a cup of tea?" Alice suggested.

She
was hesitant, but the more time she spent with the older woman, the more comfortable she became. Besides, it would be nice to have another woman to talk with.

I
n the kitchen, she noticed there was a steaming pot of tea on the stove, and once again was relieved. She had no clue where anything was and didn't have the energy to search through all the cupboards for their tea.

Alice took care of everything. She put two cups on the table and carefully poured hot water into them. The child never left her side, but peeked around the woman
's skirt.

Seated once again at the kitche
n table, she inhaled a deep, calming breath. She wished the girl would go outside and play. It was difficult to be around John's little girl—to look at her.

"
Tell me, where did you come from?" Alice asked politely from across the table.

She'd come from everywhere.

"
Well, I was living in Fort McLeod."

She lived in the dirty trading post town for six months when she spotted John
's ad in the local paper. Before that she'd been in Great Falls Montana, but she planned on keeping that part secret.

"
Fort McLeod," Alice said, raising her eyebrows. "I've heard tales of how rough and scary it can be there. With Fort Whoop Up a few miles north, it isn't any wonder."