Morrow Creek Runaway. Lisa Plumley

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ prayers...and she couldn’t trust him one whit.

      “Maybe you’ve had too much ‘tea’ this morning, and that explains that addlepated look of yours?” Miles guessed, his eyes sparkling at her with all the boyish audacity she remembered. “I understand your Miss Yates makes a mean brew.”

      Unwaveringly, Rosamond straightened. “If I look—” love-struck “—funny, it’s only because I don’t approve of trespassing. I usually don’t entertain visitors at this hour of the morning.”

      Pointedly, Miles looked at Dylan. Her visitor.

      “Except if they’re employees,” Rosamond amended.

      How did Miles set her akilter so easily? Drat him!

      “I see. Well, it turns out that we both had the same idea today.” Miles easily sized up Dylan. He nodded at him in instant affability, then switched his attention back to Rosamond. “You wanted more security, so you hired another ‘protector.’”

      Rosamond didn’t like that Miles had guessed her motives so easily. She didn’t want him to know that his presence had shaken her hard-won security so thoroughly. “How do you know Mr. Coyle isn’t a proud member of the Morrow Creek Mutual Society?”

      “I doubt the members of your society have arms like tree trunks, belligerent attitudes and a complete disinterest in the alluring way your bustle sways when you walk. Coyle does.”

      Rosamond felt her mouth drop open. She didn’t know whether to be impressed by Miles’s accurate assessment of her newest security man or appalled that she cared that Miles apparently did have an interest in what went on with her bustled backside. Otherwise, he couldn’t have made that observation, could he?

      Before she could collect herself, Miles went on.

      “I wanted you to have more security myself, after I saw how feeble yours was yesterday,” he was saying, “so I went with the most reliable and fearsome protector I could get for you.”

      Triumphantly, Miles lifted the thing in his arms.

      It wriggled. Then it gave a tiny yip. A puppy.

      The children went wild. “We want to play with it again!” Agatha cried out. “Please let us play with it again!”

      “Can we name it?” Tommy pleaded. “I have a good name!”

      “In a minute, you can play with it again,” Miles assured them all, his voice a rumble of promise and possibility. “And no, Tommy, you can’t. I’m afraid Mrs. Dancy has naming rights on this little rascal.”

      Rosamond stared. “You brought me a puppy?”

      Miles blinked. “Oh. Is that what this is? I wasn’t sure.”

      At his mischievous tone, the children guffawed. Tobe Larkin elbowed Miles in the ribs. They were obviously chums now.

      “Aw, come on, Callaway. You knew what it was!” he said.

      The bunch of them stared hopefully at Rosamond, awaiting her response. She swallowed hard, wholly unable to muster one.

      This was a serious aberration from her typical morning.

      If she turned away a puppy, the children would be crestfallen. Miles Callaway was devious, indeed. The only thing more irresistible than one of his smiles was this maneuver.

      “She’s not an Irish setter, like you’ve always wanted,” Miles explained into the gap that fell, his voice as intimate as any long-lost friend’s, “but the man I got her from last night promised me she’d be a good guard dog once she grew a little.”

      That didn’t help. “An Irish setter? I’ve always wanted—”

      An Irish setter. Rosamond broke off, her dreamy, innocent past colliding with her practical, safeguarded present. At one time, she’d thought her future would turn out so differently from this. She’d thought she could be safe and happy.

      She’d also thought Miles hadn’t paid much attention to the daydreams she’d shared with him. Evidently, he’d remembered.

      She cleared her throat. “I do not need a puppy.”

      Miles appeared undaunted. “Everyone needs a puppy.”

      Having come closer now, Dylan agreed. He petted the creature’s muzzle with his big, former-Pinkerton-man’s hand. “She’s a beauty, all right. Just look at those paws! Once she grows up, she’s going to be a sizable dog.” Dylan laughed as the critter nuzzled his palm. “Maybe not too fearsome, though.”

      “If I wanted a guard dog,” Rosamond went on tightly, hoping to regain control of this situation, “which I don’t, wouldn’t I want a male dog? Male dogs are stronger. More aggressive.”

      “The right female can be just as ferocious,” Miles argued.

      Rosamond scoffed. “Until a bigger, meaner dog comes along.”

      “When it does, that’s when we’ll see how scrappy she is.”

      “Mmm-hmm.” Dubiously, Rosamond watched the puppy as it wriggled in Miles’s arms. Its tiny tongue lolled. Its small feet scrabbled for purchase against Miles’s muscular, coat-covered forearm. The puppy yawned, then flopped onto its belly, gazing up at Miles through shiny brown eyes. It was so helpless, so adorable...so trusting. “I don’t think she stands a chance.”

      “She stands every chance in the world,” Miles disagreed. “I’m betting on the underdog. All she needs is time and a little help. All those bigger, meaner dogs will be no match for her.”

      His meaning-laden tone referred to far more than the puppy and her care. Evidently, now Miles wanted her to believe he was there to help her. The irony of that was too much for Rosamond.

      Before she could offer a rebuttal, Agatha piped up.

      “He’s right! She just needs you to take care of her!” The girl eagerly pointed at the puppy. Impatiently, she pushed up her wire spectacles. “Just like you take care of all of us.”

      Expectantly, they all regarded her, children and men alike. Even Judah had wandered over, arms crossed, to look at the puppy. He grinned, then scratched beneath its fuzzy chin. It was ludicrous to see such an intimidating man brought to his knees by a puppy. After all, it wasn’t even an Irish setter puppy.

      “I don’t know how to take care of a puppy,” Rosamond protested, feeling backed into a corner. Judging by Miles’s still-sparkling eyes, he’d known this would happen. “I don’t.”

      “You’ll master it eventually,” Tommy chimed. “You will!”

      It was her catchphrase: I’ll master this eventually.

      Just like that, Rosamond’s fate was sealed.

      How could she go against her own oft-repeated motto? The children were counting on her. She had to set a good example.

      She straightened. “Fine. The puppy’s name will be Riley.”

      Tobe СКАЧАТЬ