Rancher To The Rescue. Barbara Phinney
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pricked her eyes as a difficult realization dawned on her. She was to be their mother and father now.
She’d always been honest with her brothers. Even when she was a mere teenager and was impatient with them, she’d never been anything but truthful toward them. Keeping this terrible news from them felt like a lie to her. No doubt, they would ask again about Mother and Father. It seemed pointless to avoid the inevitable.
They’d always challenged authority, more out of curiosity and love of life than impudence. She would have to tailor that trait now, tell them they were strong enough to handle the loss.
“Don’t tell your brothers anything yet,” Noah repeated quietly, leaning down and tipping his head to interrupt her thoughts. “Let this news sink in first.”
She shot him a fast look. “Wrong choice of words.”
A wry but sad smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He nodded. “You’re right. I apologize. But think about it first. Their ship is only two weeks late. Anything could have happened.”
Her shoulders ached they were so tight. “My brothers deserve to know.”
“Yes, but not necessarily today,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Give yourself time to think about what you’re going to say. In fact, go on home.”
Clare took the moment to study him. Crystal blue eyes, framed by tanned skin and the tiniest of smile lines, more likely from the sun than any jocularity. Despite the reason for his proximity to her, she wanted that moment to last.
“Why should I go home?” she asked softly.
“You should take whatever time you need to get strong enough to tell them.”
Immediately, she bristled. Wasn’t she strong enough now? Again, her gaze fell on the bank’s letter on her desk. It lay there, wide-open for any and all to read, asking her to make an appointment to discuss the overdue payment.
Something clutched at her. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough. Maybe being a guardian to her brothers these past few weeks had drained her of the strength she would need to take on the role of parent. Tim and Leo were active and needed strong supervision and she would need to be at her best to handle them after they learned about their parents. What if Noah had seen that need where she hadn’t?
She snapped her eyes from the bank’s letter, hating how it reminded her of her troubles. But to lean forward and rip it from the desk as though it was a burning pot on a hot stove would call attention to the fact that the bank needed to see her, that its errand boy had hand-delivered the letter. No doubt, those around her would realize that her father had left her nothing with which to pay his bills.
And yet, Clare thought with a sigh, that news certainly didn’t surprise her. Her mother had often mentioned how her father tended to be flippant about money. Yes, he’d been busy with his work until Mother’s illness worsened so badly that he’d fussed over her incessantly. Her father had been more focused on her health than earning enough to cover their expenses. Late last year, he’d even let it slip that he’d started dipping into their savings.
Clare rubbed her forehead.
“Go home,” Noah told her, the words themselves firm though his tone stayed soft and gentle. “Do you need someone to go with you? I can send for the pastor’s wife. Or would you prefer I walk you home?”
Head still down, Clare stared at Noah’s boots. As usual, they shone. She knew he’d ridden in on his horse and had changed from his cowboy boots to these fine shiny ones. He had such attention to detail. His house was probably immaculate, too.
“Thank you, but no,” Clare answered with a brisk shake of her head. This morning, in her haste to round up her unruly brothers and send them off to school, she’d left their house looking as though a windstorm had barreled through it.
College hadn’t fully prepared her for the life she now faced. She’d taken good housekeeping courses, as all women at that college were required to take, but her studies had mostly focused on moral philosophy, English and geography, and as such, her marks reflected her interests. Good housekeeping hadn’t been her best subject.
Clare lifted her chin and leveled a stare at Noah Livingstone. If he felt she shouldn’t tell her brothers about their parents yet, then she certainly didn’t need to go home to wallow in the terrible news, either. “Nothing can be achieved at home.” Except cleaning it. “I wish to stay here and work.” She paused. “I need my salary.”
With a single long-legged stride, Noah reached the small swinging gate and opened it. His face was a mask of concern. “No, Miss Walsh. Clare. This has been a shock to you. Take the rest of the day off. In fact, if you need another, or even the whole week, it’s all right. We’ll manage.”
Clare swallowed. Today was Monday. What would she possibly do for an entire week? Brood and worry?
Still, the offer tempted her. No! If her parents were not coming home and the bank needed its mortgage payment, then taking time off work would be the worst decision. Again, she looked down at the letter on her desk. She should have tucked it away immediately after reading it. How could she be so foolish as to leave it open for all to glance upon?
The bank deserved its payments, though. They also deserved to know what had happened to her parents. She could stop by on the way home, perhaps make that appointment the manager had strongly suggested.
All right, she finally acquiesced. A few hours off but not the whole week. She could ill-afford that. But Noah was right to say that she needed time alone right now. Her gaze bounced from Noah back to the letter. She’d wanted so badly to be that model employee every office had. A tall order for a woman some might say, but she’d wanted only to prove it was time for everyone to see that women could do so much more than stay at home and have babies, or work the land until their fingers bled and their backs ached, while men took the jobs that required an education. She wanted to say honestly to Miss Worth the next time she wrote her that she was indeed the strong woman her mentor had demanded of her.
After digging her purse out of the bottom drawer, Clare grabbed the letter that lay open on her desk. She shoved it so hard into her purse, she was afraid she’d poked a hole in the bottom. Then she marched past Noah, careful to ensure that she appeared as strong and resolute as any man might.
“I’ll be back this afternoon.” Holding her breath lest she release a quivery sigh, she strode out of the office.
* * *
As Noah stood at the front door of Clare’s family home, he could hear the grandfather clock deep within the Walsh house ring quarter after two. Not fifteen minutes ago, he’d closed the office for the day, sending Mr. Pooley home. It hadn’t been busy and Noah had a decent justification if anyone should complain or if Clare wanted to keep her somber news private for the time being. He’d reassured himself with the internal promise that he would check on her and that was exactly what he was doing.
Her bad news had cut into him nearly as much as it had her. Nobody had expected this and to see her hover on the verge of tears drew a lump into his throat and his own tears to spring into his eyes.
But what could he have done to comfort her? Helplessness weighed on him and he prayed hastily for some guiding words.
Anything that would help her.
He shivered. Initially, the day had promised a bit of warmth, but the sky had clouded and the wind had turned, now bearing down from the north and chilling Proud Bend.
He knocked, grimacing at the harsh sound. Then he waited. And waited. Finally, Clare opened the door.
She was wearing a frilly, spotless apron over her work clothes and had pushed up her long sleeves almost to her elbows. Whatever she was doing, she’d either just started it, or it was a clean task. He noticed, however, that her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and a crumpled handkerchief bulged out the apron’s dainty pocket. Her task had been punctuated with tears.
All he wanted at that moment was to draw her into his arms