The Nanny Solution (17 page)

Chapter Twenty

V
ictoria closed the door and turned to face the sheriff. It had been only this morning that she'd first seen the man in church and she was glad he was still in his office this late in the day. He stood, and she realized then how tall and stern he appeared.

Smoothing her dress, Victoria walked up to the man's desk. “Has Mitchell MacLeod been in yet?”

“No, ma'am. Is there a problem?”

Victoria glanced back at the door. Had something happened to Mitchell? Perhaps she should have gone to the doctor's house first and sent the man to Proud Ranch as a precaution. After all, she'd left Mitchell to deal with a herd of anxious cattle.

Or was another rancher a better choice?

“Ma'am?”

She looked back at the sheriff and the desk behind which he stood. The small placard said Alexander Zane Robinson. “Sheriff Robinson, there was a fire up at one of his pastures.”

“I know. I sent a deputy to investigate. He isn't back yet.”

Lost for words, Victoria wet her lips. The sheriff stared at her. Oh, she must look a fright! At Jake's home a short while ago, Mrs. Turcot, his mother, after learning Victoria was headed here, had helped Victoria smooth her hair and fix her dress. She'd handed Victoria a warm shawl to fight the cool, clear night that was falling fast. But none of that could erase the fearful afternoon she'd had, and she was sure Sheriff Robinson could see it clearly on her face. Just as she was about to open her mouth, the door swung open. Into the sheriff's office walked a young, thin man, who held the door open for—

Mitchell! Praise the Lord!

She took a step forward, but stopped when Mitchell's scowl intensified. He moved the battered hat he'd found from one hand to the other. “Didn't I tell you to go home?” he growled.

“Yes, but you need me here.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I can help with that hat.” She pointed to his left hand. “You didn't even know what kind of hat that was. Well, I can tell you exactly when it was bought. My mother purchased two of those hats two years ago as gifts. One was for my stepfather and one for my uncle. Unless you know of some other wealthy man in Proud Bend who shops at that particular milliner in New York City?” She lifted her chin.

His expression darkened. “All the more reason for you to go home.”

“To the house of an arsonist?”

“Yes. The less he connects you with me, the safer you'll be.” He worked his jaw. “He's not going to hurt you. He wants you safe and sound at his house because he wants to marry you off to his business partner, remember?”

Victoria's mouth fell open. That last part spewed from his mouth as if it was that vile coffee train depots sell to only the most desperate of travelers.

So why say it? Did he not want to save her from that terrible fate? Had he somehow decided to placate Uncle Walter? Give in to his demands? She searched his face but couldn't find the answer. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “You said I was unsuitable for ranch life and I shouldn't be helping you. Now you're saying I'm to be preserved to placate my uncle. Well, you may be ready to accept those excuses, but not me. I'm here to prove both of them wrong.”

* * *

Mitch clamped shut his mouth. Then finally, as he passed her, he muttered, “This isn't the place for that discussion, Victoria.”

“But I have an idea that will help!”

Tearing his gaze from her, Mitch thrust the hat at the sheriff. “This was found near where the fire was started. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to have a word with Miss Templeton.” He caught Victoria's arm and steered her toward the door. With a surprised expression, the deputy hastily opened it for them.

Outside, no moon hung in the clear sky of early evening. The only decent light came from the outside lamp that the sheriff had lit. Mitch led Victoria around the corner into a sheltered nook between the sheriff's office and the jail. Good. It was dark here. She could no more see his hesitant expression than he could see the hurt in her eyes.

“Victoria, you have to go home.”

“But I have an idea!” She grabbed him as he shook his head. “Listen, Mitchell. We both know that my uncle wants your mineral rights. If he can stop you from making your mortgage payment, you'll be in default and be forced to sell those rights. When do you have to make that payment?”

Just over a full day. “By midnight tomorrow.”

“You have the money from the sale of the heifers. You can do it.”

The heifers. Oh, yes, the ones she sneakily sold for him. “Besides that being the subject of another discussion,” Mitch said, “I can't give that money to the bank. I don't have the heifers to give to the men who bought them.”

“All your heifers are gone?”

“No, but the ones they looked at and agreed to purchase have been injured or killed. Even if they bought my stock, the cows could lose their young because of the stress, and I promised that they would calve at the end of the coming winter.” He pulled in a deep breath and continued. “And I won't put those men into financial hardship just so I can pay one of my own bills. So if you think about it, Victoria, that money isn't mine.” He shook his head. “You don't understand about financial hardships.”

“Excuse me?”

Mitch didn't need a lantern to tell him she was glaring at him.

Her spine as straight as a lodgepole pine, Victoria snapped. “I climbed aboard that train in Boston with less than a dollar to my name. I couldn't even afford the food we brought back from the general store. Ninety-two cents! That was all the money I had in the world. After tipping the porter, I had less. There isn't one red cent coming after it's gone. And I don't have any way to earn more.”

“I still owe you your salary.”

“I don't want it. You said yourself that I foisted my role of caretaker onto a strange woman. What was the word you used?
Reneged?
”

“Is that why you came to my house? Were you feeling guilty that you hadn't properly earned your salary?”

“I came to help you out, Mitchell. Your children were sick. You said yourself that ranch life is hard work, and you can't be a mother and father to those children and a rancher at the same time.” She folded her arms. “Besides, by your logic, if I was feeling guilty about taking a salary, then I am honest and trustworthy, so therefore you should be listening to my idea of how to trap Uncle Walter.”

He rubbed his face. He'd been tired first thing this morning after a night up with the children. He felt worse now. When Jake had offered to take care of them so he could go to church, Mitch had jumped at the offer. Then, sitting in that pew, surrounded by warm, quiet bodies, he'd very nearly fallen asleep. The afternoon had turned wild and dangerous, and riding hard out to the fire, back again with the herd and then here had thoroughly drained him.

He didn't need this confrontation with Victoria, especially after she'd hauled him down for a kiss before he'd ridden off toward the fire, a kiss that he remembered clearly. What he needed was for her to go home. He could handle it from here. That's what his kind did. They shouldn't have to worry about women like Victoria who seemed oblivious to the danger around them.

But he couldn't blame her, not after his talk with his pastor about how she'd never learned how to care for children. Here, she'd never had to deal with this life before, so how could she be as wary as she should be?

What she also didn't realize was that the longer she hung around him, the more his children became attached to her. When she finally left—and she would leave—it would break their hearts. First their mother, then Victoria?
No, thank you very much.

But he was having a hard time finding a decent woman to look after them.

What about Victoria? You want her around.

No
, he told himself sternly. And he wasn't going to tell her again how unsuitable she was. He'd already hurt her feelings, he was sure, and the last time he'd sent her packing, she'd returned, armed with a notebook on how to do things and an attitude he hadn't felt like battling.

What had she been saying? Oh, yes, something about trapping her uncle. “I won't have my words twisted around, Victoria. It's unfair. You wouldn't like that to happen to you.” What he needed to do was to somehow get Victoria to think staying away from him was her own good idea. She'd more likely do it that way.

“Where do you think you should be?” he asked her.

“Helping you.”

“Because if something happened to me, you can help with the children, correct?”

“Absolutely.”

“So your safety is as important as mine. Maybe more so because you're my backup plan, right?”

There was a pause, and Mitch held his breath. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could make out her slight frown. He could see she didn't know how to answer, so he gently filled in the right words. “You need to go home and be prepared to help me at a moment's notice.”

She looked dubious.

“Perhaps you can study that map you obviously consulted in order to find my ranch.” He tried to keep his words gentle. “You will need to know the area better.”

Victoria's shoulders stiffened. She opened her mouth, but shut it again.

A sharp, deep voice answered instead of her. “And I need to know the facts about this fire, if you two don't mind tearing yourselves away from each other.”

Mitch turned to the source. The sheriff stood akimbo at the corner, his right side bathed in the thin light that glowed from his office's outside lamp. He would not be intimidated by this man. He'd do exactly as he was supposed to do. He might not completely trust the way things worked in Proud Bend, especially where Walter Smith was concerned, but he did trust his Savior. The Lord was with him. Teaching him.

Teaching him what?

Never mind, he told himself. “Are you prepared to hear my complaint?” Mitch asked the man.

“Of course. But not out here in the dark,” the sheriff answered.

As Mitch took Victoria's arm, she held back. “We're not here just to complain about an arson attempt,” she said. “I came here because I have an idea.”

“We will listen to it inside,” Mitch said, feeling confident that his suggestions to her were sinking into that beautiful head of hers.

Inside, they found that the deputy had lit several large lamps. Gaslight might be the choice of lighting out east, but here, the oil lamps filled the rooms with warm, oil-scented light.

Victoria immediately turned to Mitch. “You say I should go home, but first listen to my idea. I should go home and tell Uncle Walter that your herd is safe and sound and closer to the house, and that you are going to be able to deliver the heifers to the men who purchased them.”

“But the herd isn't completely safe. I managed to get the injured ones back to the barn after you left, but I wouldn't call them safe. I don't want you lying.”

Victoria shook her head. “I won't argue with you on what constitutes a lie, but really, Mitchell, the herd
is
safe from the fire but right now it's in a
tinder-dry
barn. That should be enough to spark an idea in Uncle Walter's head, if you'll excuse the unintended pun.”

She looked hopefully at Mitch, ignoring the two other men in the room. Her eyes, wide and innocent, yet knowing, spoke so much. He looked her up and down. She'd cleaned up at some point, and again, he was struck by her beauty. The woman could wear a feed sack and a pound of dust and still look stunning, he was sure.

Mitchell shoved the attraction away. Her suggestion would put his herd at too much risk. It would put everything he owned at too much risk. Not to mention his family. If he was alone, he might consider it, but not now that he had five children.

“Mitchell, we both know Uncle Walter is responsible for all that has happened.” She pointed across the room to where the dusty, sooty hat lay on a desk. “That hat belongs to him, a gift from my mother. It would be up in the pasture only if he was there lighting that fire.”

“He's not the sort to get his hands dirty.”

“But I heard him arguing before church this morning with that man you called Donner, who said he won't do my uncle's dirty work anymore. Donner said something that didn't make any sense to me at the time, but it makes perfect sense now. He said that whatever my uncle wanted him to do would jeopardize his land and herd. Uncle Walter must have wanted him to set your pasture alight, but Donner knew he'd be risking his own land, as well. My uncle said something sinister sounding, about how Donner would regret not doing as he was told.”

“You're suggesting that next Walter Smith will try to burn down my barn and kill my cattle?”

Victoria nodded vigorously. “Yes. It's brutal and horrible, but in his mind, he needs to stop you from making that bank payment. With one wildfire already started, it's not a stretch to think another may start close to your herd. He's probably thinking that could be his defense.”

The sheriff spoke. “Or he'll break in and steal the money.”

“He has to know where it is in order to steal it,” Mitch answered absently. Thinking of the hiding spot he was sure even Walter Smith would not find, Mitch felt his mouth thin.

Victoria stepped closer to him. Mitch wanted to back off, for surely he smelled of horseflesh and smoke and sweat. But she didn't seem to care. Her face was slightly smudged, a small spot that her hasty grooming this evening had missed. He flexed his arm to prevent himself from reaching up and brushing it away.

“My idea will work, Mitchell. You'll see. Uncle Walter will not want to sit idle, knowing his plan has failed. He's already told Donner he will do it all himself. Nighttime is the best time to finish off what he started, and you, along with the sheriff here, can catch him in the act. My uncle won't take a chance that you will be able to make your mortgage payment.”