West Winds of Wyoming (22 page)

“I guess I do.” He shooed away the crazy notions trotting around his head about how pretty she looked in her disheveled state and asked, “So then why don’t you tell me why all the furniture is outside. I can’t imagine. Did a snake crawl in the kitchen door and you’re on the hunt to chase him out?”

An embarrassed flush rose up in her normally creamy cheeks. She lifted a shoulder. “I got the urge to clean the house.”

He stifled his compulsion to scoff. “By taking everything outside? That must have been one big urge.” He glanced about. “How on earth did you get the large rug out the door?”

“Persistence.”

“And a lot of elbow grease.” The already dim kitchen darkened even more. Time was short before the summer storm let go several inches of desperately needed rain. “You do know a rainstorm is moving in?”

Nell started for the door. “When I began this crazy notion there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I best get everything back inside so the—”

“Not before we get the place the way you want it.” He grabbed a scrub brush from the drain board and tossed her a cloth. “I’ll start in here on the countertops, then sweep the floor. You can take the living room and do the windows.”

Her face lit up. “You’ll help?”

“I’m your hired hand, aren’t I?”

“For ranching. Not housekeeping.”

“Job’s a job.”

She wrinkled her face. “It’s Sunday.”

“Yeah, that’s what I keep hearing, but that hasn’t stopped me yet.” He gave her a little push. “Let’s go.”

She hurried toward the other room. “Thanks, Charlie Rose.”

“You’re welcome, Nell. Get moving. I don’t know how long we have before the rain hits.”

The weather held for a good hour. When he had the kitchen as clean as he could get it, he swept the stairs, the back rooms, and then ventured into the living room where Nell still toiled.

“The wind’s picking up.” He looked out the front door. “We need to get the furniture inside if you want to have anything left.”

Georgia still stood at the front hitching post. She pawed impatiently and her tail and mane whipped around in the wind. Nell and Charlie lumbered back and forth, bringing the furniture back inside. Just as he took the mare’s reins, a few large splashes of water landed on his head.

“I’ll get that rug as soon as I get back. Don’t do it without me,” he called over his shoulder as Georgia trotted at his heels. “I’ll feed the horses as well.”

Charlie dashed inside the barn. The worries he’d suppressed for the last hour rose up full force. Who was Nell’s stranger on the hill? What did he want with the Cotton Ranch? Or was the man really after Tristan Axelrose? Had Galante hired a gunman to track and kill him? Would he hurt anyone—man, woman, or child—who got in his way?

A loud boom of thunder snapped Charlie out of his musing. He unsaddled Georgia and put her in her stall. Once in the loft he went to the loft door. Rain spattered onto his face as he took a good look around. Nothing unusual out there except the storm. The windmill twirled violently in the wind. He’d feel better if Seth were home already.

Who’d been watching Nell? The question badgered his mind. If anything happened to her because of him, he’d never forgive himself. He could see her as she paced up and back on the front porch, waiting on his return. All of a sudden the Cotton Ranch felt miles too far from any civilization.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

N
ell marched up and down the now cleared porch, wondering what was taking Charlie so dang long in the barn. She wrung her hands in an attempt to still her nerves. The instant she’d noticed the rider, her irrational fear had come rushing in. She’d held back today from Charlie, just as she had with Seth. Why was it so hard to share? Since the stranger’s visit, she’d slept with her gun at her side. She didn’t like it, or appreciate it. Her independence was important to her and she didn’t want anyone taking that from her, ever.

And where was Seth, anyway? The wind had turned cold, which would surely worsen his cough. As she paced she told herself not to let her imagination run off. Seth was fine, probably at the Logans’ until the storm passed. Wyoming was known for fast-changing weather, especially in the summer and fall.

She glanced down all the way to their sign and the road that led to Logan Meadows. Dark, low-hanging clouds made seeing anything difficult.

“All right, let’s get this done,” Charlie said, taking the steps two at a time.

Nell whirled around. “What took you so long?”

“The barn was too drafty to light a match, so I had to move a little slower in the dark. Didn’t want to fall from the loft and break my neck.” He motioned to the rug where it hung over the porch rail. “Did you get a chance to beat it yet, or should I do that now?”

“That’s what I was doing when I spotted you coming—although I didn’t know it was you.”
And my squirrely heart sent me scampering for cover.
She winced, not liking what she’d turned into. “It’s as clean as it’s gonna get.”

Charlie grasped one end and waved Nell away when she went to take the other end. “I can get this.” He pulled a portion off the porch rail, rolled it, and repeated the process until he could hoist the whole thing to his shoulder, frustrating Nell even more. As strong as she was, she still couldn’t hold a candle to Charlie.

As he started for the door, Nell ducked under his arms and preceded him. She guided the front of the rug away from glass lantern chimneys and the mantel clock. Once on the narrow side of the rectangular room, Charlie bent over and dropped the heavy roll with a
woomph
on the old but now-clean hardwood floor.

Charlie moved back. With a push from his boot, he unrolled the rug.

The colors, though worn, brought life to the place. Spots of interest to brighten the drab off-white walls. The black cast-iron clock that sat on the fire mantel picked up the dark hues, while the greens and maroon just added appeal, something the room was dearly lacking.

“I’ll light the lamps,” he said. “We still need to arrange the furniture.” In their hurry to get everything in before the rain, they’d just brought the items in and set them anywhere.

She nodded. “While you do that, I’ll light a fire in the kitchen stove and get some supper going.”

She turned around to find Charlie watching her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” She admired their work. “Actually, the house looks pretty darn good already, even with everything out of place. I like it clean.”

“You’re welcome. Now, what about that supper? I have a powerful hunger. Anything hot sounds good.”

In the shadowy room it was impossible to see his eyes, much less anything else about him. Regardless, she was darn happy he’d returned when he did, and helped her with the house.
And calmed my runaway fears.

She went into the kitchen while he lit the three oil lamps in the living room. Before she knew it, Charlie was finished and stood in the doorway.

“One last thing,” he said. “Do you have a hammer and some nails in the house?”

“Why?” She cocked her head.

“You’ll see” was all he said, and Nell went into the hallway and returned with what he’d asked for. “What’re you doing?”

“May as well finish what we started. Where’d you put that hat rack that used to be in the corner? I’ll hang it up.”

Nell couldn’t stop her smile. She hurried to the back porch, where she’d stored the rustic rectangle of wood after bringing everything in from the front yard. Back in the kitchen, she handed it to Charlie, who positioned the contraption on the wall.

“Is this where you want it?”

“Absolutely.”

Nell held it in place and Charlie sank the nails with ease. The chore that never seemed to get done was finished in two minutes. From the sideboard he picked up her hat first, and then his, and hung them side by side. He turned. “Supper?”

Nell went to her pantry shelf and retrieved the two large cans of pork and beans Maude had given to her to try. Something quick and easy. She worked the can opener around the lid and dumped the contents into a pot, scraping every bean from the can with a knife. She repeated the process with the second can, then placed the pot on the stove. Hurrying down to the root cellar for the smoked flank steak she had stored away, her mouth watered thinking about the food. After returning to the kitchen, she cut the beef up into small pieces, then added them to the pork and beans.
This should be interesting.

With the supper simmering on the stove, Nell went up to her bedroom, stripped off her dirty clothes, and dropped them into her hamper. At her washstand, she filled her porcelain bowl as far as the crack in the side allowed and splashed her face several times, soaped it, scrubbed for several moments, rinsed, and dried. Taking her jar of Pond’s Extract she’d purchased on her trip to Cheyenne, she dabbed on two dollops and worked it around her face. She’d originally bought the extravagant luxury for days she’d stayed too long in the sun, but after finding how soft it made her skin, she started using it often, though sparingly.

Next she bathed the rest of her body, then donned a clean corset, chemise, and soft, white blouse. She didn’t know why but she felt compelled to wear a pretty blue skirt Ben had purchased for her from a small band of traveling
comancheros
. Finished dressing, she unbraided her hair and brushed her soft curls, examining her reflection. She was taller than most women, slender, her face browned by the sun. What did Charlie see when he looked at her? Another cowhand? A silly bother? Or, a desirable woman yearning to be kissed?

Yearning to be kissed!
Where had that notion come from?

Agitated, Nell withdrew from her room, closing the door with a soft click, but she stopped on the hallway runner. She listened to the patter of rain on the roof and wondered what Charlie was doing downstairs. Her heart stilled. A rumble of thunder far off made her wish Seth were already home.

Reentering her bedroom, she picked up Ben’s old guitar and a bottle of red wine she’d been saving for a special occasion. If she weren’t careful, her whole life would go by without any day feeling special. Now was as good as time as any to appreciate a roof over her head and a friend who made her smile.

She found Charlie in the front room. He’d arranged the furniture pieces back where they belonged and had started the fire in the fireplace. Relaxed in Seth’s chair, his feet were propped on the ottoman as he stared into the flames. When she entered he glanced up. His eyes widened and he stood.

“Thank you for starting a fire.” She set the guitar on the sofa and went back into the kitchen where she’d left the bottle. Once she found the corkscrew in the back of a cabinet drawer, she opened the bottle and poured two glasses of the dark-red wine into the best glasses she could find, then walked back into the living room.

She handed a glass to Charlie without asking, seeing he’d picked up the guitar.

“Thank you. It’s been some time since I’ve had a glass of wine.”

She backed up to the fire and took a sip, letting the liquid ease down her throat.

“Me, too. The old owner of this place left two dozen crates in the root cellar when he died. Can you imagine? Why would anyone want that much?” She drank again, liking the taste. “We didn’t find it for a while because the small door leading to the chamber was hidden by several broken crates and a stack of halved barrels.” Sipping again, the wine hit her empty stomach with a weighty goodness. “I’m no expert, but I think it’s good. It came all the way from France.”

He nodded, then drank from his glass.

“Besides this one, Seth and I’ve only consumed two bottles in all the years we’ve been here.” She felt a bit lightheaded from the wine, the fire crackling behind her and the sight of Charlie sitting on the couch holding the guitar. “One bottle in a rash moment of celebration on the day we found them, and the second on the day Seth and I buried Ben.”

She walked over to the window and stared into the night. “The guests had gone and the house was quiet. So Seth and I gathered three glasses and walked down to the river where Ben is buried on the bank by a large oak tree. The grass had just sprouted and was soft. I remember how it tickled my toes when I took off my boots and I laughed until I cried. Seth cried, too. We poured a glass for Ben and set it on his grave. We knew he’d like that.”

She turned around and smiled. “Ben Page was a good person, Charlie. You would’ve liked him. Always looking on the bright side of things. Always looking out for me.” She took another sip and held the savory liquid in her mouth, enjoying the richness of flavor. “I sure miss that man. And the little one we never had.” She was probably making him feel uncomfortable but once she opened up it was hard to stop. “I’d love to have a child of my own, Charlie. How about you?”

He shifted, and glanced away. “Sure. Who wouldn’t.”

She nodded. “As it is, I don’t feel complete. It’s like I’m missing a great big piece of my heart and the pain never quite goes away no matter what I do.” A low rumble of thunder drew her attention back outside to the storm, then a flash of light. As powerful as the tempest roared, the storm couldn’t compare to the razor-sharp feelings flashing around inside her.