A Cowboy Christmas. Janette Kenny
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that the damper was closed, which prevented the smoke from escaping.” Hubert glanced down at the soot on his waistcoat and grimaced. “If I’m not needed, sir—”
Reid excused the fussy butler with a nod and turned to Moss, well aware Miss Cade had ventured into the kitchen at last. “You got anything to add?”
Moss stroked his cottony beard and snorted. “Your new cook smoked the place up but nothing’s burnt ’cept what was in the oven. Appears to have been a pie of sorts.”
“It was a molasses pie,” she said. “My grandmother taught me how to make it.”
“Did she teach you to open the damper on the cook stove before you fired it up?” Moss asked in a belligerent tone that nudged Reid to jump to Miss Cade’s defense.
But before he could utter a word, she jutted her chin out and said, “Of course she did.”
Moss slid her a steely-eyed look that brought fresh color to her face. “If what you claim is true, then why the hell was the damper closed?”
“It was open,” she said, squaring off against the old chuck cook as if she’d done so many times before. “If the damper had been closed, the kitchen would have filled with smoke in a matter of minutes.”
“Maybe you shut it right before I hauled supper in for you,” Moss said.
Ellie reeled back, a look of abject hurt clouding her big eyes and slamming Reid back to the here and now. Somebody had closed that damper. Hubert would’ve needed a chair or ladder to reach it. But then so would Moss. And, hell, the ranch cook was just doing a good turn by bringing a pail of stew up for supper.
That left Ellie Jo Cade. She was the stranger, and the most likely one to have caused this stir.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked Moss, her voice suddenly small and trembling.
Moss’s bushy white eyebrows slammed together. “Reckon you’d best look in a mirror and ask that question.” He turned to Reid. “If you was smart, you’d haul this gal back to Maverick before she burns the house down.”
“How dare you suggest such a thing,” Ellie said.
Moss didn’t even acknowledge her with a look. “I can throw a meal on the table any time, boss. You holler if you need me.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Reid said.
That earned him a curt nod from the old ranch cook before he turned and tramped down the hall. Cold gusted in, then the door slammed shut and silence roared in the kitchen.
Reid rubbed his forehead where a headache pounded. First Kincaid steals his stallion, and now Miss Cade sets fire to the kitchen. Or did she?
He crossed his arms over his chest and faced Miss Ellie Jo Cade. “You got anything more to say?”
“I didn’t close the damper.” She looked Reid square in the eyes and he saw the truth there as plain as day. “Please, give me another chance.”
He fully intended to, because there was no way in hell he was hauling Mrs. Leach’s friend back to Maverick in this weather. Never mind the chances of him finding a decent cook in town on short notice.
She looked disheveled, yet oddly alluring. But it was those eyes sparking with anger that made him pause.
“Who do you think closed it then? Moss or Hubert?”
The wiry butler sputtered to attention. “Not I, sir.”
“I think Mr. Moss closed it when he left the pail of stew on the stove,” she said, and seemed close to stricken by the very idea of him committing the deed.
“Why would he do that, Miss Cade?”
Her chin came up. “It’s clear he doesn’t want me on the ranch.”
He had a feeling she was right, but there was more to it than jealousy. When they were arguing, he’d noted a familiarity between them. He sensed their quarrel went way back.
It was no secret that Mrs. Leach and Moss had been bed-partners at one time. Reid suspected that romance began while she was still in the business of pleasuring men for a living. But how did Miss Cade tie in with those two old-timers?
“What’s to say you didn’t close the damper to make Moss look bad?” he asked.
“I daresay that’s because it was open then.” Hubert wiped most of the soot off his waistcoat and grimaced.
“How long have you known Gabby Moss?” he asked Ellie.
“I don’t know that man at all.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and that told him she was lying. Yep, there was something between the old cook and Miss Cade. But what?
“Yep, Moss made no secret that he wants you gone from here,” Reid said.
She pinched her eyes shut for a heartbeat. “None at all.”
“But you don’t know why,” he said.
She shook her head, looking defeated, when he suspected she wasn’t one to give in without a fight. “Perhaps Mr. Moss is angry that I was chosen to replace Mrs. Leach.”
He wasn’t convinced yet that she could boil water, but he saw no sense in arguing the point. What was done was done. If Moss was trying to railroad Miss Cade, then keeping him out of the kitchen would forestall any more episodes like this.
“You might be right.” Reid nodded at the porcelain pail sitting on the range. “That stew hot yet?”
Miss Cade turned to the stove and lifted the lid. “Nearly so. Would you like biscuits with supper?”
“I surely would.”
He fished his pocket watch from his vest pocket and ran his thumb over the stag and forest design before he thumbed open the lid. Time always stood still for a breath or two, for he clearly remembered the Christmas that Kirby Morris gave him this watch.
It marked his right of passage as a man. The head honcho for this ranch.
And he’d failed miserably.
He snapped it shut and slid it back in his vest. “How long before it’s ready?”
Her smile took his breath away. “I’ll have supper on the table in twenty minutes.”
“Fine. I got ranch business to tend to.”
That was a damned lie, for he had nothing better to do than stand here and watch her. But doing what he wanted would leave him hungering for something he couldn’t have.
Ellie concentrated on following the recipe to the letter for two reasons. Her biscuits had to be edible. And keeping her mind on the job at hand kept her from dwelling on what her pa had done to her.
Though his betrayal hurt her feelings, she wasn’t going to give up on him yet. He must have had good reason to do what he’d done. The way she figured it, she had two weeks to get her pa alone and talk to him at length.
In the meantime, she’d do her best to prepare meals that met with Reid Barclay’s approval. She surely couldn’t or wouldn’t continue accepting her pa’s handouts, for it was clear he wasn’t happy to see her here.
She filled the tureen with stew and carried it into the dining room. Reid sat at the head of the long table looking incredibly handsome and unbelievably lonely.
“Would there be anything else you want?” she asked.
An intense heat flared in his eyes before they tempered to a molten blue, but the message was clear and bold and should have offended her. Instead, her body flushed as if she’d been stroked with fire.
“I’ll take coffee after my meal,” he said at last.
It was her cue to leave the room, but she couldn’t seem