The Nanny Solution. Barbara Phinney

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СКАЧАТЬ his gut tightened and bitterness blossomed on his tongue. A gust of wind delivered the foul smell of oily smoke to him, at the same time fluttering Victoria’s telegram. He quickly shoved it into his jacket pocket. “I’ll explain what’s happening in a few minutes. But it’s nothing serious, Ralph. We just need to send a telegram.”

      “So you’re not mad at Miss Templeton?”

      Mitch couldn’t miss the concern in his children’s eyes. They didn’t want him mad at Victoria, probably because they were afraid she’d leave them like their mother had done. Mitchell blew out a sigh. They were getting far too attached to her. “Miss Templeton surprised me, that’s all.”

      Matthew, being old enough to pick up on what his father was now attempting, grabbed his brother. “It’s nothing, Ralph. The train tracks are blocked with trees and Papa knows Miss Templeton’s uncle. Don’t you listen?”

      “I do listen! I’m a good boy!”

      Matthew pushed his brother. “You weren’t when Momma died. You threw a tantrum!”

      “Enough, both of you!” Mitch raised his hand, palm out. “Mary, go help Miss Templeton. Matthew, keep an eye on John for a minute. I won’t be long.” Taking his youngest by the hand in an effort to thwart a fight, Mitch made a straight line for the telegraph office.

      But at the entrance to the office, Mitch stopped, holding open the door as a middle-aged couple and a young, attractive woman exited. The depot bustled, a beehive of activity. Inside the ticket office an argumentative man voiced his opinion loudly, and the line in the telegraph office coiled around like the back end of a snake. This delay would be costly.

      Mitch turned, wanting to make sure his children were mindful of his instructions. Mary was climbing aboard the sleeper car, hauling herself up the steep steps as the young porter who’d helped Victoria offered his hand. Below, Matthew and John were kicking a small rock back and forth underneath the first set of windows.

      Beside them, the middle-aged couple who’d exited the telegraph office paused a moment, the man holding the older woman’s hand as she fussed with her shoe. Having fixed whatever it was, she smiled her gratitude up to her man, and in that moment, he leaned forward to steal a kiss. Playfully, she batted him lightly, while the young woman laughed.

      The intimate moment clenched his stomach, stalling him briefly. The love that couple shared glowed like a fine mountain sunset. How had their love survived the turbulent times, he wondered. What did they know that he didn’t?

      He caught a glimpse of Mary skipping through the train car, stopping halfway when she reached Victoria. Victoria was bending over the seat. She turned her head when Mary approached, then, a moment later, as she lifted the tiny Emily up into her arms, she looked out the window.

      Again, their gazes crashed together like rams in season. Her gaze was wide, curious, and cautious. He knew then why he couldn’t share a love like the one he’d seen in that middle-aged couple. Because he had chosen poorly, both in wife and in occupation.

      All he’d wanted was to build a life for his family. He’d left them in Boston, his wife’s hometown, so they wouldn’t have to deal with the hardships of ranch life without even a roof over their heads for the first little while.

      It had taken time to build a house. Even now, Proud Ranch wasn’t finished. He was gone long hours, sometimes days, fixing the fence that his neighbor had objected to. And if there was one thing he’d learned, it was that separation wasn’t good for a marriage.

      He couldn’t do a thing about his family, except what was right, and he couldn’t do a thing about his occupation, either.

      But he could prevent more personal humiliation.

      Mitch ground his heel into the gravel beneath his feet as he spun away from the train and deeper into the telegraph office, putting his back to Victoria and her soft, beguiling eyes.

      No more humiliation.

      * * *

      Victoria watched Mitchell stride into the telegraph office. It wasn’t hard to see the man was upset. He’d taken one look at her uncle’s name on the telegram and had gone from frustrated by the sudden delay in the train’s schedule to just plain angry. But why?

      Her shoulders drooped. She knew so little about her uncle that she couldn’t even begin to speculate. He owned the bank in Proud Bend, a large one, according to her mother. Victoria had secretly assumed Abigail was exaggerating the size. How big could anything be out West?

      Not for the first time, Victoria grated against her mother’s belief that women should avoid all financial matters. Thanks to that silly notion, Victoria’s business sense was limited to her basic math. Yes, she’d listened in on several marital arrangements and the exchange of money that invariably accompanied them, but that was the extent of her experience. Mercy. No wonder Mitchell seemed surprised that she believed she could find employment.

      In her arms, the baby fussed. “Can I hold her, Miss Templeton?”

      Victoria smiled down at Mary. “Of course, but just for a moment. She will need to be fed as soon as the other baby is finished.”

      She glanced over at the young mother across the aisle. Victoria had honestly believed she’d done what was right by securing this arrangement, but Mitchell believed otherwise.

      Mary sat down on the seat and Victoria set the baby in her arms. “Support her head, dear. She isn’t as strong as you.”

      “Her grip sure is strong. She got ahold of Ralph’s curls once and wouldn’t let go.”

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