If the Prospect Pleases Page 7

  “And I, you. Take care of that sweet little angel.” Watching her new friend walk away, Annora felt greatly comforted just knowing that at least one familiar face lived in this wild, unknown territory. But she wasn’t completely at ease after Hope strolled off. She was all on her own, now—and hadn’t the slightest idea where to go.

  Well, she affirmed silently, I can start with the clerk at the ticket window. “Excuse me, sir,” she said, nearing him.

  The short, small-featured man standing inside the cutout window of the station peered at her between the brim of his visor and a pair of spectacles perched halfway down his nose.

  “I was wondering if you might be able to tell me where Mr. Lucas Brent lives or how I might contact him.”

  “Brent,” he repeated, squinting his eyes in thought. “His place is half a dozen miles or so outside of town. But—” he pointed to someone loading a pair of barrels onto a wagon— “I reckon that young fellow over yonder should be able to take you right to the man’s door. That’s where he’s goin’.”

  “Splendid!” Annora exclaimed, wondering over yet another miracle. Her parents had instilled in her long ago the fact that God cares for His own, and she was finding that to be very true. Had He arranged for this individual to be here at the very moment she needed transportation? She dared not consider what she’d do if he happened to refuse. Hope had reported that people in the territory were quite helpful and friendly, especially to newcomers, common as they were. Praying that was the case, Annora made her way to the young man’s rig, glancing over his muscular frame and sable hair as she got closer. “I beg your pardon?”

  Blue eyes glanced in her direction as he straightened. “Talking to me, miss?”

  “Yes. I–I’m trying to get to Mr. Lucas Brent’s place. Do you know where it is?” She nibbled her lip hopefully.

  He eyed her boldly, a smile twitching a corner of his mouth. “Matter of fact, I do. You have business with him?”

  “Yes. Well, no. That is. . .I’m hoping the position he advertised is still open. I’ve come to apply for it. I wrote him a letter—” Afraid to confess it had been barely two weeks past, Annora cut the explanation short. “I’d be willing to pay for a ride, if you see fit to take me there.”

  “You don’t say.” A spark of humor shone in his eyes as he appeared to consider the request, and for some reason it prickled Annora. “Have any luggage?”

  “One trunk, plus a small valise.”

  “That’s it?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, point me to them, miss. Looks like I’m your man.”

  Within moments, she found herself aboard the wagon seat, her baggage loaded into the bed of the rig. From this perspective she had an opportunity to get a closer look at the town she expected would be her new home.

  Cheyenne did offer some respectability—at least for a span of two or three blocks—with neat brick buildings, an attractive show of shop windows, and even a three-story hotel. But beyond that it relapsed into a bold disregard of architectural style. Almost every ten paces along the dusty streets sat a saloon or barroom offering games of chance.

  Annora was greatly relieved to count a few churches and a decent schoolhouse in passing as the driver guided the team out of town, heading westward. “I’m Annora Nolan,” she finally remembered to say, her voice wavering as the wheels lurched over the uneven ruts.

  “Just call me Noah.”

  “That would be somewhat forward, I dare say.”

  He shrugged. “Not in these parts, it ain’t.”

  Not entirely certain he wasn’t toying with her, Annora felt a little ill at ease and shifted on the seat. But the smile he turned on her didn’t seem particularly threatening, only—peculiar. She tried to relax, taking in the openness of the landscape in comparison to Pennsylvania’s thickly forested hills. A liberal sprinkling of sagebrush and other strange-looking scrubby bushes dotted the parched grassland for miles. “Do you know Mr. Brent personally?” she asked after a short silence.

  “You might say that.”

  “Oh, I suppose everyone knows everyone else around here.”

  He merely grinned.

  Really! Annora thought. I’m simply trying to make polite conversation. Releasing a small sigh, she crossed her ankles and hands and straightened her spine. She directed her attention to the scenery again, wondering exactly how much farther it was to Mr. Brent’s.

  After an interminable amount of time, the wagon pulled off the main road and onto a lane. Once they had crested a small knoll, a group of farm buildings came into view. There was a rather dismal frame house with a porch across its front, a fairly large barn, and several outbuildings.

  A wide section of land beyond had been plowed and planted with what appeared to have been corn, recently harvested. The leftover shocks had been cut and stacked about the field. Rows of other crops were also visible. The varied greens contrasted sharply to the surrounding arid land. “Is–is that—”

  “Yep.”

  Annora waited for additional information, but none followed. She tamped down nervous flutterings in the pit of her stomach, wishing she had thought to prepare a speech during the oppressively silent drive from town. Only a few moments now remained to come up with one. She frowned in concentration. Good day, Mr. Brent. I’ve come in answer to your notice. At that inadequate try, she cringed. Why, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brent. I do hope you received my letter. She rolled her eyes, finally settling on a frantic silent prayer instead.

  The petition was interrupted by girlish squeals. “Noah! Noah’s coming!”

  Annora followed the sound of the voices to two little urchins jumping up and down on the porch. And the nearer the rig drew to the place, the greater Annora’s disquiet. The poor things were so thin. Thin and filthy, their little dresses soiled and torn.

  As the children spied her, they turned silent and stood still, the older one sliding an arm around the younger. Even as the assurance flowed through Annora that the position must still be open, doubts about her foolhardiness drained it away. Perhaps Mr. Brent was riffraff, the ungodly sort, impossible to work for. He might have even driven three or four applicants away already. And who knows what his temperament would be like? Her hands began to tremble.

  Noah stopped the wagon near the edge of the yard and hopped down. Still staring at the unkempt children, Annora suddenly realized he was waiting to assist her. She gathered her courage and stood, then leaned into his upraised hands.

  He set her on her feet. Then without a word, he went to unload her things before climbing aboard the rig and driving it toward the barn, whistling as he went.

  Assuming that was where the goods from town needed to go, Annora smiled at the girls, who scarcely moved a muscle as they stared mutely at her. She shifted from one foot to the other, keenly aware that in all likelihood, she didn’t look so good herself. “I’ve come to see your father,” she finally said in what she hoped was a pleasant tone. “Is he here?”

  The two exchanged wary glances, then the older one nodded.

  “Would you please go and get him for me?”

  After a split-second’s hesitation, the pair took one another’s hands and jumped off the porch, running past the barn.

  ❧

  “Pa! Pa!”

  Discerning an unusual note of alarm in his older daughter’s voice, Lucas paused in replacing the chicken wire and turned so he could scoop the two children up in his arms the minute they reached him. He’d heard the wagon rumbling over the lane and concluded that Noah must have finally arrived with the supplies. But what could be upsetting the girls?

  Melinda got to him first, and he wrapped one arm around her and the other around Amy, a step behind. “It’s a lady, Pa. Come to see you.”

  A lady? The only one of those he knew was Rosemary, and the youngsters would surely recognize her. He scratched the few days’ growth of stubble on his face. Must be someone else from town. With a shrug and a cheery grin at his daughters, he took e
ach by the hand and allowed them to lead him to the house, wishing he could clean up a bit for company.

  Coming within sight of the visitor waiting just shy of the porch, he stopped short. She was turned away slightly, her petite form as slim as a quill. Lucas had no idea what someone so young could want with him. Especially someone whose appearance was that of one who’d been traveling for a long time. He squeezed his daughters’ hands and smiled down at them. “How about checking for any new eggs while I tend to the lady?”

  “Yes, Pa.” They skipped happily off, and Lucas continued up the path to the yard.

  She swung to look at him as he approached.

  Lucas had never seen eyes such a light green before—or did they just seem so?—set above fine, high cheekbones in that guileless face and crowned with slender tapered brows. He gave himself a mental shake. “My daughters said you were asking for me? I’m Lucas Brent. What can I do for you, miss?”

  A tentative smile curved her rosy lips at the edges, and she extended a gloved hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Annora Nolan.”

  She’d said it like an announcement, but her name meant absolutely nothing to Lucas. He maintained a blank stare and watched her confidence fall a few notches.

  “I–I wrote you a letter. Hasn’t it arrived yet?”

  “You mean—”

  “Yes!” she gasped in relief, obviously assuming he knew what she was talking about. “I’ve come to apply for the position you advertised.”

  With a quick glance that took her in from head to toe, Lucas fought the urge to laugh in derision. A fragile, refined gal like her wasn’t even old enough to have developed any of the qualifications a more mature woman would have arrived with. She was no more a housekeeper than he was a sawbones! And worse yet, even with that red hair of hers twisted into the semblance of a knot beneath that prim bonnet, she was hardly more than a baby herself! He needed help, sure—but this little filly would be just one more little girl to look after! The whole idea was absurd. He opened his mouth to tell her just that.

  Noah chose just that moment to stroll up from the barn. “See you’ve met our new housekeeper,” he said, grinning like a barn cat by a pail of spilled milk.

  Lucas branded his kid brother with a sizzling glare. “And just what part did you play in this?”

  Shoulders and brows rose as one in supreme innocence. “She asked me to drive her here. That’s as much as I know.”

  Returning his attention to the visitor, Lucas saw shock tinged with mortification paint two rosy circles on her fair cheeks. Lips pressed into a thin line, she gaped from Noah to him, then back, looking from all appearances as if she was on the verge of bolting and running the whole seven miles back to town.

  He held up a calming hand. “All right. Let’s stop this whole thing here and now. I need to get a few little details straight. First of all, Miss—Nolan, did you say?”

  She nodded, a frown still crinkling her brows.

  “I take it you’ve met my brother, Noah.”

  Her eyes hardened. “He only gave his first name. I assumed he was a delivery man.”

  Noah averted his gaze and tried to appear guiltless, even with his tongue teasing his cheek.

  “Figures,” Lucas grated in disgust. He switched back to the redhead. “And you say you wrote me a letter.”

  She swallowed. “Yes. From Philadelphia. I saw your notice on the public board at my church and applied for the position some weeks ago.”

  Noah drew a crumpled blue-gray envelope from the inside pocket of his vest. “Postmaster gave this to me today. Says he found it wedged between the wall and his desk. Didn’t know how long it’d been there.”

  At the sight of the stationery she had found in Mrs. Baxter’s old lap desk, Annora realized he had never even gotten it! She wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. And die.

  Lucas kneaded his jaw. Reaching for the missive, he opened it and scanned through the single page she had written. Then he released a whoosh of breath. He’d been stupid enough to think every unimaginable thing that could possibly happen to a man had already come his way. But now this!

  He turned to his brother. “Hitch the wagon back up,” he ordered sternly, avoiding the girl’s widening green eyes. “Miss Nolan needs a ride to town.”

  nine

  “No!” Realizing she had actually stomped her foot, Annora felt her face turn a vivid shade of crimson as Noah halted in his tracks and turned.

  Both men’s astonished blue eyes leveled straight on her.

  Annora centered on the most penetrating ones, those in dark-haired Lucas Brent’s unsmiling face, and spoke much more softly to regain her composure. “I can’t go back. Please, don’t send me away.”

  The brothers swapped incredulous glances, and the elder of the two shook his head. “Look, miss, I’m sure you meant well by taking it upon yourself to come here unannounced—”

  “I sent a letter,” Annora reiterated slowly, distinctly.

  He turned his gaze skyward and shrugged, palms up.

  Annora had no choice but to plead her case. “The notice said ‘In desperate need.’ Has that changed? Has anyone else come to help out? Or even offered?”

  “No,” Mr. Brent admitted.

  “Then, give me a chance. That’s all I ask. I’ve come all this way, and—”

  “She’s right.” Noah, who had only watched the exchange up until this point, finally spoke up.

  The farmer cut him a glower. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Switching his attention to Annora once more, he shifted his stance and raised a callused hand as if he was about to shake a finger in her face. But with an exasperated huff, he lowered his arm instead. “Miss Nolan.”

  She bristled at his placating tone.

  “I appreciate your generous offer,” he went on. “I really do. But as you can see, I already have two little girls to look after. I do not—I repeat, not—need a third. If you really want to help me out, go back home. I’m sure your parents are worried about you.”

  Annora hiked her chin. “My parents are dead. I have no home.”

  “About figures,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Spying the children heading toward them, the egg basket looped over the older one’s arm, Annora moved a little farther out on the limb. “And it appears to me your daughters could stand a little more ‘looking after.’ ”

  Noah snickered.

  Lucas Brent’s head drooped, and he rubbed at his temples. He did not say a word.

  “A month.” Annora urged in her most businesslike manner. “Give me a month’s trial. Let me prove I can cook, clean, and care for your daughters. Then if you feel I’m not doing a good job, or if another woman comes along whom you feel is better qualified, you. . .you can ask me to leave.”

  “Sounds fair enough,” Noah piped in.

  His older brother opened his mouth to reply, but one of the children sidled up to him, shyly taking stock of the stranger. “I’m hungry, Pa. When’s supper?”

  Annora thought she discerned an easing of the man’s determination, a slight resignation in the sag of one broad shoulder. He gazed down at his girls, then up at her. “You say you can cook?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, then, there’s the house. Let’s see what you can do.” He turned on his heel and strode back in the direction from which he’d come.

  A fraction of Annora’s fear subsided. He was giving her a chance!

  “Whoo-eee!” Noah smacked one knee with his open palm and sauntered to the barn.

  The girls, peering hesitantly after both of them, lifted their dirty faces to Annora. “What’s your name, lady?”

  ❧

  Annora’s spirit had hit rock bottom at her first disheartening glimpse of the chaos greeting her inside the dwelling. But after unearthing some dried fruit for the girls to nibble on while they went back outside to play, she slipped off the jacket of Lesley’s once-spotless suit, rolled up her sleeves, and filled a big kettle with water to heat on
the cookstove. She turned and faced the disaster behind her and took a deep breath. She would set the living quarters to rights or die trying. . .and for the first time ever, she thanked her Heavenly Father for all those months she’d been forced into drudgery at the Baxters’.

  Melinda and Amy had shown her to the smokehouse, so Annora put some meat on to stew while she labored with broom, scrub brush, and dust cloth. Before long the hidden charm of the little house began to make its appearance. Annora tried to envision a young wife and mother bustling about, tidying up, rubbing oil into the mantel, shining the glass chimneys of the lamps. . .typical duties that maintained a proper home. And there were a few inexpensive pieces of bric-a-brac and framed embroidered samplers on the walls, niceties that a woman takes pleasure in displaying. She wondered what sort of woman the late mistress of the house had been.

  Then Annora’s thoughts drifted to the tall, lean-faced man who at present was her employer. She estimated he was at least ten years her senior. His bluish-gray eyes were shaded by straight brows the identical black-brown of his hair. . .and held more than a trace of sadness. But it wasn’t hard to imagine that tanned face without its set jaw, without the creases the obvious intense pain of bereavement had wrought.

  In fact, she decided, he could actually be considered quite. . . handsome, under all that stubble. She had caught tiny glimpses of his softer side when he looked at his daughters. Surely even someone as gruff as he could not be all bad. But considering how intimidated she had felt in his presence, Annora blushed at the shameless way she had stood up to him. She had even surprised herself, if the truth were told—but she chalked it up to desperation bringing previously unknown qualities to the fore.

  Chopping fresh vegetables and adding them to the stew, she inhaled the rich broth simmering on the stove and concluded it would turn out as tasty as Mrs. Henderson’s. The woman had been a wonderful teacher. Now, to stir up some biscuits.

  It was dusk by the time Annora finished the living room and kitchen. Way past the normal supper hour. But stepping out onto the porch to ring the dinner bell, she knew it could have been much worse. She willed aside the aching of her entire body and clanged the iron rod against the triangle, fighting an impulse to laugh as a veritable stampede of feet followed immediately.