The Bachelor Tax. Carolyn Davidson

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СКАЧАТЬ will I be staying?” she asked Tanner, who had supervised the move from the top of the stairs.

      “Either in the dining room or one of the other rooms up here, ma’am,” he announced, his words not giving a hint as to his druthers.

      “The dining room?” Rosemary stepped to the wide doorway that led into that dimly lit area, the furniture shrouded as if mourning were the order of the day.

      “There is no door for privacy,” she said quietly, her eyes seeking him as he watched her from the head of the stairs.

      “Your choice, ma’am. There are two other rooms up here, and both of ’em have doors…and locks.”

      The two young men dropped her belongings to the floor and looked at each other, one with a sly grin that bespoke his thoughts.

      It was too much. To start out with such an attitude was unforgivable. “How about the study, Mr. Tanner?”

      His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. “You were in my father’s study?”

      Rosemary scented anger. She’d hit a sore spot, sure enough. “I took the liberty of looking into all the rooms, Mr. Tanner. I didn’t know that any of them were out of bounds to me.”

      “It’s full of my father’s things.” His words were abrupt.

      “Your father?” If the man was here, Rosemary surely hadn’t seen any sign of him.

      “I had a father, Miss Gibson. Like yours, he is no longer with us.”

      She flinched from his words, recognizing his intention to cause pain. The man had a cruel streak. “Then he will no longer be needing the room, will he?” she asked quietly.

      Tanner’s mouth twisted and his nostrils flared briefly, as his boots clattered against the stairs. Reaching the bottom, he halted before her.

      “Now that you mention it, I don’t suppose he will.” His chest rose and fell as he hesitated.

      “If it’s too much trouble, I can…” she began, wishing she had not begun this battle.

      “You’ll have to put up with one of the rooms upstairs, until I can sort his things out. Shouldn’t take me more than a couple of evenings.”

      She cast a look at the dim interior of the dining room. “Why not use…”

      “I’ll take care of it.” His tone ended the discussion and Rosemary pinched her lips together as Tanner looked at the duet of husky men, jerking his thumb up the stairs in the direction of the bedrooms there. In less than a minute, her belongings had been carried up and deposited in the first bedroom, Tanner directing the move.

      Bates spoke from the porch, his voice carrying through the kitchen. “You boys about ready? Supper’s gonna be late, and your ma don’t like keepin’ food hot, Sonny.”

      “All right, Pa,” the largest of the two young men answered, grinning quickly at Rosemary as he passed.

      They were gone. Just that quickly, they climbed aboard the big wagon and Bates disappeared from view.

      Rosemary walked into the kitchen, halting in front of the big bureau that held an assortment of crocks and utensils.

      From behind her, Tanner’s footsteps crossed the floor. “I’ll expect supper on the table in two hours, Miss Gibson. There’ll be six hands and myself.”

      “Do I get to eat, too?” She couldn’t resist. His words begged for rebuttal, and to her dismay, her sharp tongue offered it without pause.

      “You’d better make plenty, or there might not be any left for you, ma’am. You’re cookin’ for hungry men.”

      That was an understatement, Rosemary decided later, watching as the seven men devoured her efforts. In less than ten minutes they had plowed through two platters of beef steak she’d breaded and fried, then placed in the oven to bake. A big bowl of pale gravy was poured without prejudice over their plates, covering potatoes, biscuits and meat, the spoon she had provided even now staining the tablecloth she’d used.

      Two quart jars of green beans had disappeared, and the dried apples she’d made up into a dessert, with sugar and cinnamon and sweet dough on top, were but a memory.

      It was as if a horde of locusts had descended and devoured every scrap of available food, she decided, watching with wide eyes as one of the men wiped the gravy bowl clean with a piece of biscuit, then stuffed the dripping bite into his mouth.

      “Sure is good grub, ma’am,” he announced, shoving his chair back from the table as he gained his feet. “Pert near as good as Mama Pearl’s.”

      The glow ignited by his offhand compliment faded as Rosemary registered his final words. “What does Mama Pearl cook for you?” she asked hastily as the men clustered at the doorway, filing out onto the porch.

      Tanner sat at the other end of the long table and leaned back in his chair. “You’ll get a chance to ask her tomorrow. It’s her day to show up here.”

      He eyed the empty bowls and his grin was unrepentant. “Doesn’t look like they left you much, Miss Gibson. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

      She nodded. “That’s true.”

      Tanner rose from his chair, nodding at her as he pushed it beneath the table’s edge. His fingers raised in a half salute as he strolled from the kitchen. “I might as well start on the study, ma’am. There may be part of a loaf of bread left in the pantry if you’re hungry.”

      “I took you at your word, Mr. Tanner,” she said beneath her breath.

      He paused at the doorway. “Oh? How’s that?”

      She turned, opening the oven and, with a heavy pot holder, drew forth a plate upon which she had placed a generous portion of the meal she had prepared.

      “I got mine first. Just in case.” With a flourish, she sat down at the table, spreading a dish towel across her lap. Folding her hands before her, she closed her eyes, her mind searching for words of thanksgiving.

      For the first time in her life, she met a blank wall. The presence of the Almighty seemed not to occupy this room, and the simple prayer she was accustomed to speaking before her meals was somehow gone from her mind.

      She compromised, closing her eyes, whispering a few words of thanks for her food, and asking only for safe refuge in this place. The image of Gabe Tanner’s face flashed before her closed eyes, his lips curved in a smug grin, his gaze flashing a challenge.

      Her eyes opened and she gritted her teeth. The man was determined to be an aggravation. With fingers that trembled, she picked up her knife and fork and sawed at a piece of steak, reconsidering her quick petition to the Almighty.

      Perhaps, she thought, she should have asked instead for patience.

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