Prairie Cowboy. Linda Ford

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ what?

      God would have to provide the answer.

      The next day, Conor surprised her by bringing Rachael to school. Rachael ran to Virnie. “Pa wants to talk to you.”

      She wondered at the excitement in Rachael’s voice. But her main concern when she crossed the yard to where Conor waited was controlling the sudden roll of her heart that left her breathless.

      “You wanted to speak to me?” She kept her voice admirably calm despite the way her insides vibrated at speaking to this man who had inadvertently opened up an unwelcome door in her heart. She didn’t know what lay past that open door and didn’t intend to find out. She had her life plans laid out firmly. She would be a dedicated teacher such as Miss Price had trained her to be. And because it was what she wanted.

      Conor seemed very interested in the reins draped across his palm. “Umm. I have to go to Gabe’s farm and help him with his harvest.”

      She nodded. “Does that mean yours is done?”

      “Yes, and a fair harvest, too.”

      “Good. I’m glad for you.” Though she wondered what it had to do with her and why he continued to twist the reins.

      “Rae can’t go with me.”

      “Of course not. She has to attend school.”

      “And do the chores at home.”

      She nodded. “You’ll miss her, I suppose.” She had to see his response, assure herself he did care, that Rachael being a girl wasn’t reason enough to resent her.

      Conor’s gaze rested on Rachael standing near the school watching them. Then he turned to look hard at Virnie.

      She saw his stark feelings about his daughter. He loved her so much it seemed to almost hurt him.

      “I will miss her.” His voice was low, edged with roughness. “But out here we do what has to be done without complaining.”

      She nodded, not understanding the warning note in his voice.

      He sucked in air and jerked his gaze away as if aware of the tension lacing the air between them. “She needs someone to stay with her.”

      “Certainly she does.”

      He shifted back to look at her. “Would you?”

      His gaze was so intent, so demanding, she found it difficult to think. “Would I what?”

      “Would you stay with her?”

      Her mouth fell open. She forced it shut and swallowed hard. Was this God’s answer for a way to spend more time with Rachael? He’d certainly found a unique way of doing it.

      Conor took her hesitation for regret. “I wouldn’t be there. Be gone for a week or two.”

      “Why I’d love to stay with her. On one condition.”

      His eyes narrowed. “Tell me before I agree.”

      “You allow me to teach her a few skills around the house.”

      Darkness filled his eyes. “Don’t need fancy stuff.”

      “Seems to me from the little I saw that you would benefit from someone knowing a few basics like washing dishes and tidying up.”

      They did silent battle with their eyes and then he nodded. “So long as you don’t teach her to be a silly, weak female.”

      She laughed, despite feeling like her past had slapped her full-on. “Female doesn’t necessarily equate weak and silly.” She’d tried to prove it to her father. Unfortunately, she had failed so miserably he had sent her away and never again contacted her. She pushed the hurt of her former life back into the shadows. This was not about her. It was about Rachael.

      Conor only quirked his eyebrows at her quick defense. “I have to leave immediately. Take good care of her.” He waved Rachael over.

      Rachael raced to his side, darting cautious glances at Virnie. “She’s going to do it?”

      Conor nodded.

      Virnie thought he looked like he regretted it already. She left them to say goodbye. But as she walked away she overhead him say, “Don’t expect her to stay when things get hard.”

      Virnie grinned. If he thought she’d turn tail and run at the first challenge she encountered, he didn’t know the things she’d faced in the past.

      Chapter Four

      Virnie found lots of work to do in the house and enlisted Rachael’s help, hoping to teach her a few coping skills. Her first task was to wash dishes. It was a standard kind of job that occurred in every house across the nation every day. Only this was Conor’s kitchen and as she scraped the dirty dishes she got glimpses of what he ate, the meager sort of meals he endured and wondered how either he or Rachael survived. She felt his presence in every corner of the room. She wondered how he spent his evenings. Did he read? She saw little evidence of it though she didn’t venture into his room. She tried not to think of him sitting over a cup of tea, wanting to share his day with someone.

      She pushed aside an increasingly familiar awareness of the empty areas of her life. It would be nice to share stories of her day with someone. She scoffed at her silliness. If she wanted to share she had only to sit down and pen a letter to Miss Price. But it wasn’t the same.

      When Rachael complained they didn’t need to wash all the dishes, only what they needed, Virnie chuckled. “Sounds like something your pa says.”

      “Yup.” Then thinking Virnie might expect better English from her, corrected herself. “Yes. ‘No need to waste time on needless chores,’ he says.”

      Virnie tried to think of a way to show Rachael that house chores were as necessary as farm chores. “Why does your pa insist the pens are cleaned every day?”

      “Easier to move a little manure than a lot.”

      “Same with dishes. It’s easier to wash what you use every day than face the dirty stack when you run out.”

      Rachael looked startled.

      “So we’ll wash all these dishes and put them away and then every day you wash the ones you use. That way you don’t have to try and find something clean when you’re hungry.”

      They finished the stack. Virnie scrubbed the cupboard and put everything away. “Doesn’t that look nice?” The tabletop was clean and scrubbed, the stove shiny black.

      Rachael giggled. “Pa wouldn’t know it was the same place.”

      They tackled the rest of the room. Virnie discovered beautiful wood floors that gleamed once she’d scrubbed and polished them. She saw Conor’s handwork in the hand-hewn window ledges and his craftsmanship in every detail of the house. The house revealed a pride that belied its current condition. There must have been a time he valued a nice home.

      As СКАЧАТЬ