“I brushed down my pa’s horses,” Henry said quietly, unwilling to be relegated to tending the hens.
Cord’s eyes narrowed as he took in the boy’s stance, shoulders back and chin uptilted. “Take care of the hens today, and I’ll let you give a hand tomorrow morning with the yearling colts.”
Henry’s eyes brightened with excitement and he nodded quickly. “Yessir, that’ll be just fine. Me and Jay can sure learn how to feed chickens in a hurry.”
Jay nodded his agreement, standing almost behind his brother. “Yessir, we can do that.”
Cord jerked at the brim of his hat, forcing it firmly against his forehead. “Don’t get into trouble, now.”
Two small heads swung in unison. “Oh, no sir, we won’t,” Jay warbled, poking at his big brother. “Did you hear, Henry?” he asked in his clear treble voice. “We get to be in the barn tomorrow.”
Cord’s stallion moved out quickly, and he watched as the two boys scampered toward the barn door, Henry calling for Shamus as they went.
Across the yard, Rachel stood on the back porch, shaking the dust a dozen feet had deposited before breakfast on the small braided rug she held. Her hair gleaming in the morning sunshine, she watched as he rode past the corral, meeting his gaze across the grassy expanse.
“Probably ought to take time now to talk to her about Jake,” Cord muttered to himself, regretful that he hadn’t said something last night.
From beyond the barns, a shout caught his attention and he swung in that direction, where a cloud of dust bespoke activity. A spiral of smoke from a fire caught the breeze and he sniffed at the scent of burning wood. The men were setting up shop without him, it seemed.
With a nudge of his heel, the horse beneath him turned in the direction of the holding pen, and within minutes Cord was enmeshed in the branding of his calves.
Setting a pot of beef to simmer on the back of the stove, Rachel surveyed her kitchen. Though it belonged to Cord McPherson, it had become hers the moment she donned an apron yesterday afternoon.
Already, she had rearranged the pantry shelves to her liking, adding her own meager stores to the bountiful supply of tins and sacks gracing the shelves. That any one household should be so blessed by an abundance of foodstuffs was almost beyond belief.
A thrill of anticipation brightened her eyes and lightened her steps as she gathered the ingredients for the beef stew she planned for the noon meal. The meat was cut up and browned right after breakfast, with several onions adding a tangy scent. She’d found a sack of sprouting potatoes and upended them in the sink, sorting and scraping at the lot.
Somewhere outdoors, she decided, there must be a cellar where the garden produce had been stored for the winter.
The pantry held cans of peaches and she determined to make a cobbler, with sweet biscuits crusting it. Then she’d discovered the jars of home-canned applesauce and her eyes had widened at the sight of such luxury. Traveling from Pennsylvania had inured her to the prospect of dried and unpalatable fruit, not to mention the absence of fresh meat, except for the rabbits her father had managed to shoot along the way.
Her heart sang with the pleasure of putting roses in the cheeks of Jay and Henry once more, too long fed with oatmeal and cornbread, a handful of greens and an occasional fish. Henry had brought down a few rabbits, but she’d had a hard time cleaning the small specimens he’d managed to bring home.
Her mind wandered as she peeled potatoes, setting them aside in a pan of water to wait for the stew to be ready, her mouth shaping the words of a song as she sang beneath her breath.
The memory of a piano she’d spied in the front parlor yesterday afternoon entered her mind, and she thought with longing of the music hidden in those black and white keys.
Cord McPherson had walked her past those open double doors guarding the formal room at one side of the house, affording her but a glimpse of the beautiful instrument. Perhaps she could just take another look, maybe even open the other doors on that long hallway.
A house of this size was a wonderment. That Cord McPherson was a man of means had been a given. After all, he owned the ranch. That his home should be so fine was a pleasure beyond her imagining.
Wiping her hands on the dish towel she’d tucked into her apron, Rachel looked around the kitchen. Midmorning sunshine splashed across the pine floor, too strong to be stopped by the streaked windows.
She’d do well to get out a keg of vinegar and wash them, instead of considering poking her nose into the nooks and crannies of Cord McPherson’s home, she thought virtuously. And then with a twirl of skirts and a girlish laugh stifled with her open palm, she left her apron behind and set off down the hallway.
The parlor was magnificent, with a plush sofa much like the one that had graced their own parlor in Pennsylvania. The library desk beneath the window held an assortment of pictures and small ornaments that beckoned her invitingly.
She paused beside the mantelpiece, admiring the brass figures and marble pieces gathered there for display, then hesitated in the middle of the room to turn in a full circle. Coming to a halt, Rachel faced the piano, her mouth opening, a soft, yearning sound passing her lips.
Her feet moved soundlessly across the carpet in the center of the wooden floor, her soft-soled shoes a whisper. With reverent fingers, she lifted the lid that covered the keys and eased it to its open position. One finger touched white ivory, and she tilted her head as she heard the clear tone of hammer striking string within the instrument.
“Ohhhh…!” It was more than a whispered exclamation of delight From the depths of her soul, the yearning of her hungry heart expressed itself.
Music. The gift that eased the longings of her spirit, that fed her, nourishing her with beauty beyond bearing.
The temptation was more than she could resist. Rachel slid onto the bench, yielding to the attraction of the sounds held captive within the depths of the instrument before her. Lifting her hands, she placed them on the keys.
A melody flowed with liquid beauty from beneath her right hand, the fingers of the left adding a counterpoint of chords and running trills. Her eyes closed with the sheer ecstasy of it and she bent her head, her ear attuned to each note.
From the hallway a roar of disbelief sounded, a bellow of rage that halted her hands in their melodious pursuit. She spun on the bench, one leg half-bent beneath her as she looked over her shoulder.
Framed in the wide doorway was a man, sitting in an invalid’s chair. Empty pant legs hung lankly to the foot rest, only one knee curved over the seat. His hair hung to his shoulders in dark disarray. Bearded and hunched, looking like a beast set on ravishing the cause of his anger, he leaned in Rachel’s direction.
“I’m so sorry I disturbed you.” It was barely more than a whisper, spoken from between trembling lips. Her hands were clenched between her breasts, her heart beating a rapid cadence beneath her fists.
But he paid her apology no attention, his whole being seemingly bound by the furious rage that impelled him. His hands gripped the wheels and he spun them, sending his vehicle surging in her direction. Dark eyes, narrowed and blazing with an unholy anger, stopped her breath in her throat as she met his gaze with dismay.
And then he halted, midway across the room, and snarled a curse that fell on her ears and caused her to draw an unbelieving breath. He spun the wheels once more and the chair bumped against the piano bench, jarring her from her frozen pose of horror.
One hand reached toward him, as if to fend off his attack, and he cast the trembling fingers a look of such scorn as to cause them to fall back in her lap.
“I beg your pardon, sir…” The words were stronger this time as her mind raced, seeking an answer to the appearance of this creature before her.
And then he spoke, the words spaced as if uttered