The Hired Man. Lynna Banning
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He caught Eleanor’s eye. “You got a tape measure handy?”
“It’s upstairs in my bedroom. But—”
“I’ll get it,” Cord said. Eleanor had looked peaked all afternoon and during supper she’d seemed short of breath. “Where is it, exactly?”
“It’s in my top dresser drawer. Molly can show you, but she’s too short to reach it.”
Cord followed the girl as she scampered up the stairs. He’d been in Eleanor’s bedroom only once, the day she’d almost fainted and he’d carried her upstairs.
Molly banged the door open and streaked toward the walnut chest standing against the far wall. “Up there.” She pointed to the top drawer.
Something about being here made him nervous. Too private, maybe? Too...female?
Carefully he pulled the drawer open. Her possessions were all neatly arranged, lacy handkerchiefs, a red knit hat and two blue silky-looking scarves. No jewelry, he noted. He wanted in the worst way to open the second drawer. Maybe he’d find some of her smallclothes, drawers or chemises, or a sheer nightgown. Nah. Eleanor wouldn’t wear a sheer nightgown.
Or would she?
Concentrate on the tape measure, man.
He gingerly laid one finger on the tumble of scarves and pushed one aside, looking for the tape. But what he uncovered instead was a framed daguerreotype. A man and a woman, apparently on their wedding day. A long veil fell below her slim shoulders. She was not smiling.
His gut clenched. What made a woman not smile on her wedding day? He wished he hadn’t seen it.
Molly danced at his side. “Didja find it?”
He pushed the photograph to one side and there underneath it lay a neatly coiled measuring tape. “Got it.” Reluctantly he pushed the drawer shut.
Molly darted out the door and down the stairs. “Measure me! Measure me!”
While Eleanor and Danny washed up the supper dishes, Cord lined Molly up against the door frame and made a pencil mark for her height. “You’re thirty-two inches tall,” he announced.
“Now do me,” Danny insisted. He dried his hands on the dish towel, marched to the back door and stood at attention. Cord dutifully marked his height and turned to Eleanor.
“How tall are you, Miz Malloy?”
“Why, I have no idea.”
“Shall I measure you?”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Aw, come on, Ma, do it!” Danny ordered.
Obediently Eleanor moved to the back door and straightened her spine against the frame. She sent him a self-conscious look and closed her eyes.
Closed her eyes? Why in hell would she close her eyes?
He snapped the length of measuring tape in his two hands, moved toward her and stopped. He couldn’t lay the tape against Eleanor’s body. He didn’t trust his hands anywhere near her. They were already shaking and he wasn’t anywhere close to her.
“You’d better hurry up, Cord,” she said. “You and Molly have to dry the dishes.”
He swallowed. “Right. Open your eyes and turn around, Eleanor. Face the door and put your nose right up against the wood.”
She obeyed, and he ran the tape from the back of her work boot, over the curve of her hip and along her upper spine to the top of her head. “Okay, now step away.”
She ducked under his hand and moved back a step while he made a pencil mark on the door frame. Next to it he inscribed her initials. E.M.
“Now you!” Danny insisted.
Before he could refuse, Eleanor snatched the tape measure out of his hand. “Stand up against the door,” she ordered.
“Front or back?” he asked. Wait a minute. The thought of her touching him anywhere near his groin was unnerving. He turned toward the door and put his back to her.
He felt her touch his ankle, felt the tape slide along the back of his jeans and then over his butt. He stopped breathing.
Then her hand skimmed up his spine to his neck, and he couldn’t help the shiver that shook him.
Suddenly she stopped. “The tape measure’s not long enough,” she announced.
Cord said a silent prayer of thanks. Her every touch was arousing. Actually, he didn’t dare turn around just yet because his groin was engorged and...well...active.
“How tall is Cord?” Molly asked.
“Over six feet,” Eleanor said.
“Golly,” Danny breathed. “Do you think I’ll be that tall when I’m all growed up?”
Eleanor wound the tape into a tight coil and slipped it into her apron pocket. “I don’t think so, Danny. Your father was...” She stopped abruptly. “Shorter than Cord,” she continued. “So chances are you will be—”
“Tall enough,” Cord interrupted. “Tall enough to be a really good rider.”
The boy’s gray-blue eyes widened. “Really honest?”
“Yeah, really honest.” He caught Eleanor’s gaze. She was shaking her head no.
“I don’t want Danny riding a horse yet. There’s been no one to teach him, and besides, he’s too young.”
Cord stepped away from the doorway and surreptitiously adjusted his jeans. “He’s not too young, Eleanor. I’ve been riding since I was five years old.”
She bit her lip. “I still don’t think—”
“Please, Ma?” Danny yelped. “I’ll do all the dishes every night for a month, I promise.”
Cord laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. Then he turned to Molly.
“Come on, Molly. I guess it’s up to us to dry the supper dishes.”
“You ever think you’d like to eat pie for breakfast?” Cord asked the next morning.
“Yes!” Molly and Daniel shouted in unison.
“No,” Eleanor said decisively.
Cord shrugged and watched her crack eggs into the skillet. “Apple pie is not a proper breakfast for growing children,” she pronounced in a no-nonsense tone.
“Aw, Ma,” Danny moaned. “I’m sick of eggs.”
“Eggs,” their mother said with an edge in her voice, “are what civilized people eat for breakfast.”
Both children dawdled through the meal of fried eggs and bacon, and suddenly Cord realized why they were eating so slowly. It was Monday, a school day for Danny.
An hour later the grumbling boy hoisted his satchel over his shoulder and plodded out the front door. Molly moped around the yard petting the chickens until her brother trudged back through the gate late that afternoon.
“Danny, you know maybe you could ride my bay mare to school,” Cord remarked casually. “I could teach you to ride.”
“Nah. Ma won’t let me. You heard her. She says a horse is dangerous. Besides, you said it was too much horse for me.”
“It is dangerous if you don’t know how to handle a horse. You ever been on a horse?”
Danny shook his head.
“How long does it take you to walk to school?”