Rancher To The Rescue. Barbara Phinney

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      Truer words were never spoken, Clare thought with dismay. Oh, she didn’t mind doing laundry, all the sorting and siphoning off the soft rainwater, not to mention the boiling and wringing, were necessary and mindless tasks, done all day once a month if everyone stayed clean. But it was what all that represented. All of her principles, her beliefs that women should be treated as more than indentured servants, would be washed away like the mud on Leo’s pants. She was a person, and should have the same rights as men, and at that moment, the laundry chore Noah had just mentioned in passing was proof she would never see that dream in her own life.

      She balled the handkerchief up in her palm. With a swallow, she said, “I won’t cry on our wedding day. I promise you that much.”

      “Thank you. In the meantime, Mr. Pooley will be here soon, so I suggest you dry your eyes. Of course, he already knows of your loss, so tears are bound to be expected.”

      She pulled herself together. Tears might be expected, and yes, she’d done her share of crying yesterday, but she wouldn’t give anyone here in this Recording Office reason to think she was a wilting woman unsuitable for the workplace.

      They stared at each other, Clare hardening herself and Noah looking like a lead actor who’d forgotten his lines at the climax of a play. After glancing awkwardly around, he asked almost vaguely, “Did you want me to propose properly? On my knee?”

      Clare shook her head violently. “No! No, thank you. It’s all right. It’s not like we’re...in love.”

      She cleared her throat and straightened further. “I’m not some silly woman who needs all that foolish romance and fuss. Our marriage is just an agreement to assist me at a difficult financial time.” Her tone became frostier. “As much as I am grateful to you for it, Mr. Livingstone, I just need to say that I value my freedom. Don’t get me wrong. I won’t sully your reputation or that of this office, but if college has taught me one thing, it’s that I should be deciding my own life.”

      “Of course.” The soft words were slow. It was clear he had no idea what she was talking about.

      “So if you think you will be making every decision for me,” Clare continued to explain, “I’m here to tell you that that won’t be happening.” There, she’d said her piece.

      For now.

      The one corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. Good grief, was that a sparkle in his eye? “You’re welcome.”

      Flushing, Clare stood and brushed past him to exit his office, her skirt swishing with disapproval as she walked. Why on earth had she blurted out that awful diatribe? Noah had done nothing to warrant her icy speech. She stopped and returned to his office, where he still stood watching her march around the desks like a tin soldier.

      “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

      Oh, dear. She didn’t sound very regretful, either. What a way to start an engagement. Sure that she would be apologizing her entire married life, she straightened her shoulders. “I truly appreciate all you’re doing for the boys and me. I won’t make you ashamed of me or regret this decision, but you’ll have to be patient, Mr. Livingstone.”

      She paused. The whole time she’d been working at the Recording Office, she’d been focused on land deeds, first transcribing damaged ones then recording new information as it came forth. “I mean, I have to admit I’m not sure what paperwork needs to be completed.”

      “I’ll take care of the license. They expect me to do it anyway.”

      Clare fought another bubble of irritation. Applying for a marriage license shouldn’t be confined to the man. Still, Noah was hardly lording it over her. “Thank you, Mr. Livingstone.”

      “Perhaps we can start by calling each other by our Christian names?”

      Clare blinked at him. “Of course. But what about here?” As if to add to the question, the door opened and in walked Joe Pooley, the young clerk Noah had hired just before he’d taken the chance with her last fall. They both nodded stiffly to him.

      Noah glanced around the office. “We should maintain a certain formality here, I think. I know some people keep that formality even at home, but do you think that’s necessary?”

      “No, but I hadn’t thought I would ever marry, either.”

      Quirking a brow, he asked with a hint of surprise, “You never harbored those girlish dreams of finding true love?”

      She sniffed. “I did when I was much younger, yes, but college taught me otherwise. My mentor, Miss Worth, often said it did women the world over a disservice simply to hand over our freedom to our husbands, and I witnessed it firsthand with several of my friends. They were the perfect blushing brides, but then I saw them a few months later, asking their husbands for advice, for money, or to be taken places. Those women had reveled in their freedom at college. We answered to no man. My married friends lost all of that elemental freedom.”

      “Surely they realized that beforehand. I mean, if you wish to call marriage a loss of basic freedom.”

      “Most realized it was gone. And they missed it. They aren’t even allowed to get a job anymore, something my mentor thought was important. That’s what chasing true love has done for them. All I wanted was to decide my own life.”

      She stopped it there, expecting amusement at the notion, or a blunt contradiction. Instead, Noah merely stared at her. Gone from his blue eyes was the wariness, now replaced by something she couldn’t explain. Was it sympathy? She hated that she couldn’t identify it. “I was going to own my own business someday, and not just some small enterprise like a sewing room or laundry service or an extension of my husband’s business like the general store here. My career was going to be big, like owning a warehouse that brought goods from overseas, or a string of haberdasheries up and down the Rockies with my name on each of the marquees.”

      Noah looked perplexed. “Then why come back to Proud Bend and take a minor job here?”

      “Mother needed my help.” She felt a pang of hurt deep inside. “There were days she could barely get out of bed. I knew I needed to learn administration beyond what I took in college, and there aren’t too many places where I could learn it while still helping to care for my mother. I came home on faith that I would find something that could start me on a career path. My father got me this job.”

      “Your training got you your job. Your father just arranged for it,” Noah reminded her. “He said something about putting your education to good use.” After a short pause, when Clare said nothing, he added with a shrug, “Allow me to sort out what’s needed for our, um, wedding. Is there a preferred date? Pastor Wyseman will want a few days to publish bans. He is a bit old-fashioned that way.”

      Noah’s crisp tone sounded like he was arranging for a tailoring session, or a bank appointment, Clare thought with a sinking heart. His self-sacrificing proposal was a noble gesture, but she felt, well, begrudging. She hated that his stellar behavior made her feel petty and ungracious.

      She cleared her throat. “Anytime is fine. It’s just a business arrangement, anyway.” Then, head held high, she strode from the office.

      * * *

      Noah watched her leave. He’d had a way out of the situation that had been similar to the one that had forced his hand back home. But what had he done? СКАЧАТЬ