Ruth glanced up from her vigorous scrubbing of a tin pot. “Don’t be silly. You’ll eat with the rest of us, like always. We’ll set all the food on the table beforehand so everybody can help themselves.”
“What about sweets?” Jane tried to disguise the pleading tone in her voice. “Tea and coffee?”
“We can both fetch those from the kitchen when the time comes. Now I don’t want to hear another word about you not eating with the rest of the family. You and Dr. Gray will have plenty to talk about. He’s from back East, too.”
The tumbler Jane was drying slipped out of her hands and crashed to the floor.
“I’m sorry! What a butterfingers. I should have been paying more attention to what I was doing. I’ll get the broom.”
“Don’t fret about it.” Ruth grabbed the dustpan and held it while Jane swept up the broken glass. “As I was saying, Dr. Gray is from back East. Saint Louis, I think Caleb said.”
Jane let out a quivering breath. Saint Louis was a long way from Boston. In fact, Mrs. Endicott would have called it “out West.” Even if this doctor had been from the Atlantic coast, that didn’t mean he’d necessarily be acquainted with her former employer. There must have been a few physicians between Portland, Maine, and Charleston, South Carolina, who Mrs. Endicott hadn’t consulted about her various aches and pains.
“I have a notion to heat some water for a bath,” said Ruth when the last of the dishes were put away without further breakage. “Might as well wash our hair while we’re about it. I brew a rinse of vinegar and herbs that’ll make your hair shine like a mink’s pelt.”
Jane replied with a halfhearted smile. It was good of Ruth to fuss over her like this, especially since she wouldn’t be staying around much longer. She couldn’t enjoy it, though. The thought of entertaining company tonight left her vaguely bilious. The men would probably take a glass of whiskey before dinner. Perhaps more than one. She remembered all too vividly the effect of strong drink upon men’s manners and tempers.
Undaunted by Jane’s lack of enthusiasm, Ruth Kincaid nudged her through preparations for the evening, while Zeke kept the baby amused. The two women oiled and buffed the dining table. Ruth seared the roast and put it in the oven, while Jane peeled potatoes and set them to soak. Together they baked plum puffs for dessert. All the while, Ruth sang the praises of Dr. Winslow Gray.
When all the work had been done to Ruth’s satisfaction, she contrived that Jane should bathe first.
“What do you think of this?” Ruth asked when Jane emerged from her bath with hair cleaner and more fragrant than she could ever remember.
Staring at the swath of taffeta in Ruth’s arms, Jane gnawed on her lower lip. How had Ruth guessed that this dress, the color of daffodils in warm spring sunshine, was her favorite of all the beautiful gowns in Marie Kincaid’s trunk?
Not to mention the most impossible to wear outside the privacy of her bedroom.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit too fancy just for dinner?”
“Where else are you going to wear it?” Ruth held the gown up in front of Jane and nodded her approval. “No matter what the sign outside Big Mike’s saloon says, Whitehorn doesn’t have a proper opera house like they’ve got in Denver. Caleb tells me Marie used to dress up like this all the time. I say it’s too pretty not to wear.”
“Do you think it’ll be warm enough? The nights are still rather chilly and I’m prone to the cold.”
“It will leave your shoulders bare,” Ruth agreed.
Though Jane didn’t dare admit it, that was what made this dress so unsuitable. The wounds Emery’s nails had gouged were finally healing, but they had left scars on her flesh that might never disappear. A physician would be sure to recognize what they represented. That she was a woman who’d merited a beating at the hands of a man she’d cared for.
Just framing the notion in her mind left Jane nauseous with shame.
“I’ve got it!” Ruth thrust the dress into Jane’s arms and charged up the stairs.
She returned a moment later bearing a cream-colored shawl of the finest brushed wool. “This will keep you from catching cold. Just pull it around your shoulders if you feel a draft. Besides, catching cold will be in a good cause if you can catch a—”
“Catch what?”
“Catch…a chance…” sputtered Ruth, “to enjoy some fresh company. You must be getting so tired of seeing nobody but Caleb and me and the children. And John, of course.”
Jane shook her head. “I could never get tired of any of you. You’ve all been so kind to me after I showed up here, out of the blue and by my own silly mistake. I love this place. It’s so solid and safe.”
“You wouldn’t have said that a few years back when the winters were so bad. Plenty of folks from the East think this country is full of danger. I’m not sure there’s anyplace a body’s safe from all harm. Even if there was, you might be bored to death.”
“I’d take my chances.” Jane hoped her reply sounded lighthearted.
Matchmaking must be in the air, John decided ruefully, as he rode back to the ranch from Sweetgrass.
He’d first suspected something was afoot when Walks on Ice had introduced him to a distant cousin who’d come to visit from her reservation farther north.
“This is Moon Raven. Her grannie is my cousin. She’s a good worker, like all the women in our family. Smart and respectful. Pretty, too, isn’t she, Night Horse?”
John couldn’t deny it. The girl was attractive, with hair the color of her namesake bird and eyes the hue of ripe wild plums.
“Welcome to Sweetgrass, Moon Raven. I hope you’ll have a good visit.”
To Walks on Ice he asked, “How are the children? Have any more come down with the fever?”
The old woman shook her head. “Not since Ruth put all the sick ones together, away from the rest. Two are still weak, but the others are better. Moon Raven was a great help to Ruth.”
“I’m sure she was. Thank you, Moon Raven.”
“Your sister is a skillful healer. I was honored to work with her and learn from her.”
Walks on Ice beamed. “I like a girl with a mannerly tongue in her mouth. You can tell she’s been well brought up—no black robe schools to fill her head with foolishness. How old are you, Night Horse?”
“Have you forgotten how to count, Auntie? Your hands brought me into this world. You should know it was thirty years ago.”
“As many as that?” The old woman shook her head dolefully. “And still no children. My Lame Elk is younger than you, yet he has four fine sons and a new little daughter who is the joy of his eyes.”
John didn’t need to be told. He had noted the arrival of each new addition to Lame Elk’s family with joy. And envy.
“Lame Elk is a lucky man. Well, I must go talk to Bearspeaker. Goodbye.” Before Walks on Ice could get another word out, John strode away.
If he thought he’d left Moon Raven behind, he was wrong.
“So you met our pretty visitor, Night Horse?” Bearspeaker eyed John slyly. “What did you think of her?”
“A fine girl. How’s the hunting been? Do you need any supplies from town?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте