Bride of the Wolf. Susan Krinard
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The lady sat up, and Joey caught a quick glimpse of the bundle lying beside her, pinched the brim of his hat and stood up as straight as he knew how.
“Howdy, ma’am,” he said in his deepest voice. “Name’s Joey Ackerman. I work with Mr. Renshaw. He asked me to check in on you.”
Clear brown eyes met his. “How do you do, Mr. Ackerman,” she said very seriously. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Joey tucked his hands behind his back. “You’re Jed’s wife.”
Her eyes seemed to get darker somehow, like a storm cloud brewing on the horizon. “Yes. I am Mrs. McCarrick.” She was quiet for a while, and Joey had a chance to study her. She wasn’t exactly pretty, and she was thin, like she hadn’t had quite enough to eat. Joey knew what that felt like. The way she was sitting, like she was going to pop right up any moment, reminded Joey of a filly he’d seen once, looking calm but just about shaking with the need to run as fast as her feet would carry her.
He shifted his gaze to the bunch of blankets. “You, uh, need anything, Mrs. McCarrick?”
“I have all I need for the time being, Mr. Ackerman. Would you like to see the baby?”
Joey didn’t need another invitation. He moved to the side of the bed and peered into the screwed-up little face. Its eyes were closed, and its lashes were very long and very delicate.
“It looks right young,” he murmured. “Did Holden really bring him?”
Mrs. McCarrick stroked the baby’s silky hair. Joey watched the caress with a sort of hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“So it would seem, Mr. Ackerman,” Mrs. McCarrick said.
“Joey, ma’am. No one calls me Mr. Ackerman.”
“Of course. Tell me, Joey. Have you known Mr. Renshaw long?”
Joey swelled up with pride. “Since he came to Dog Creek, ‘bout three years ago.”
“I can see that you think well of him.”
“Sure. I been here since I was eleven, and he’s the best foreman we ever had. No one can work cattle or ride and break horses like he does. It’s like he has some magic power over ‘em.” He shuffled his feet. “You shouldn’t judge him by how he acts sometimes, ma’am. He ain’t as mean as he looks.”
She tilted her head, considering his words as if they were important. “And Jedediah?” she said. “Are he and Holden good friends?”
It was a mighty strange question to ask, he thought, ‘specially since she was Jed’s wife and should know things like that. “Jed never trusted nobody like he trusts Holden.” He rubbed at the fringe of hair above his upper lip. “You didn’t know much about Dog Creek before you came, did you, ma’am?”
“Only from Mr. McCarrick’s description. He and I married in Ohio.”
“Guess this is quite a change for you, ma’am.”
She shifted around, tight as rawhide drying in the sun. “Have you been to Ohio, Joey?”
“Me? No, ma’am. I like it here just fine.” He searched her eyes. “Hope you like it here, too, Mrs. McCarrick.”
“My name is Rachel, Joey.”
Rachel. It was about the prettiest name Joey had ever heard. “You must be tuckered, ma’am. Rachel,” he said. “I’m goin’ to talk to Maurice, but I’ll be around case you need anything. Just whistle.”
She smiled, and Joey thought that smile changed her face completely. “I’ll do that, Joey. Thank you.”
His feet hardly touched the floorboards as he left the house. Now that he’d seen her, he didn’t understand why Holden didn’t like her. She was a right proper lady, and he could see she liked the baby, even if she’d never seen it before today.
Maybe she’d like him, too.
Joey nearly ran to the bunkhouse. Holden was wrong about Rachel. She was going to make Dog Creek a better place.
As soon as Jed was home, everything was going to be just fine.
Chapter Four
“MERCI, MAURICE.”
The big Frenchman beamed, his round face reddened from the sun and his eyes twinkling with effusive good humor. Rachel had liked the cook, who turned out to also be the blacksmith and launderer, from the moment he’d entered the house with offerings from his own stores in the ranch cookhouse. Like Joey, he seemed delighted to meet her and eager to see her well settled.
“It is nothing, madame,” he said. “I am honored to assist the wife of Monsieur McCarrick.”
She returned his smile. “I hope I will be able to lighten your load at Dog Creek,” she said. “I can certainly assume the washing duties.”
“Mais non, madame. It is not necessary.”
“I came here expecting to work hard, and that is what I intend to do. I may, however, require your advice as to what my husband prefers to eat.”
“Ah, the talent of cooking is wasted here, madame,” he said with an exaggerated shrug. “Beef, beans and biscuits. Biscuits, beans and beef.”
She laughed. “Then it shall not be so difficult, n’est-ce pas?”
With a great sigh, Maurice shook his head, bowed and left the house.
Rachel’s heart was almost light as she laid the loaf of bread on the table and took up the knife Maurice had brought. Between him and Joey—and perhaps Jedediah’s nephew, whom she wanted very much to trust—she was beginning to feel she might have friends at Dog Creek.
Joey had been perfectly charming. He was every bit the boy trying to be a man, earnest and serious. But he hadn’t been able to conceal his fascination with the baby. Or his natural friendliness and willingness to help.
In that respect he was very little like the man he so obviously admired.
Rachel’s smile faded as she cut a slice of smoked salt pork. It felt strange to be alone in this house now that the sun had set. The first night noises had brought her to an uneasy alert: coyotes howling, ominous scratchings from behind the walls, the keening of the wind. She was just frightened enough to be angry. Angry that Renshaw hadn’t come back to visit the baby. That his brief show of solicitude before he had left had been worth so little.
But of course he had no concern for her at all.
Checking the lantern to make sure it was still burning well, she listened for the baby in the bedroom. He was still asleep, oblivious to the loneliness that lay so unexpectedly heavy on her own shoulders. She had thought she was accustomed to such loneliness; she’d had so few people to rely upon during her years of struggle. It was ridiculous that she should feel bereft when she was soon to have companionship and a true purpose.
The bitter thought she could never quite conquer rose to mock her hope. What would they think if they knew my shame? If they guessed how thoroughly I have deceived them?
Even Jedediah knew nothing of it. How much more would Holden Renshaw despise her if he was aware of her deepest secret?
Why was his opinion of any concern to her at all?
He will never know. No one here will ever know.
Someone rapped on the door. Her heart fluttered treacherously. Had Holden Renshaw finally returned?
But it was not the foreman. Sean McCarrick tipped his hat and smiled in that same very charming way when they’d first met.
“Mrs. McCarrick,” he said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not