Whirlwind Baby. Debra Cowan
stayed as much as possible since Sheriff Holt’s arrival shortly after supper. He and Jake had remained outside until the sun had set.
Georgia had offered to help Emma clean up, but she’d waved off the older woman’s assistance. So, Georgia had kept Ike and Molly company in the front room until the older two had brought Emma the baby and gone up to bed a few moments ago. Jake’s uncle and cousin seemed to really like the little girl. Everyone did, except Jake.
Emma sang softly to Molly as she swayed back and forth, putting the little girl to sleep. The buttery scent of corn bread and savory meat still lingered in the room. She waited until she could no longer hear the retreating hoof-beats of the sheriff’s horse before she stepped out of the kitchen. With Molly asleep on her shoulder, she scanned the spacious living area for any sign of Jake or his brother.
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced over, toward her room. Jake stood in the doorway, his wide shoulders filling the space.
Emma started in surprise. She hadn’t heard him come in, let alone make his way to her room.
He looked startled, too, as if he were surprised to see her.
“Oh. There you are,” he said gruffly as he moved to the dining table, staying on the opposite side. “I just wanted to let you know that Davis Lee didn’t find anything to help us with that thief, but we’ll keep looking. Not just for your, uh—” His gaze skipped away. “You know.”
She realized he was trying not to look at her chest. Her corsetless chest. Oh, lands.
“Okay,” she said in a half whisper, her own gaze dropping. Heat moved up her neck and into her cheeks. She needed to think of a way to make do until she could get another corset. Maybe two chemises? That sounded miserable in this hot weather.
Hugging the baby close, she moved over to the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace and gently laid down the little girl. The mingled scents of man and horse and outdoors drifted from her boss. When Emma straightened, she saw Jake’s big hands curl over the back of a heavy dining-room chair, his knuckles white against the dark bronze of his hands. As if he was trying to keep himself from moving.
And he was, she realized. He was trying to keep some space between them. Again, regret rolled through her. She wanted to apologize for reacting the way she had after the accident, but it was better this way, wasn’t it? The less comfortable she became with him—with his family—the easier it would be when she had to leave.
“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get your clothes back,” he said tautly.
She nodded, returning to the table as she adjusted her spectacles. They’d gotten scratched when she’d flown out of the wagon and Jake had picked them up. Which was good, because Emma had forgotten she was supposed to wear them.
Releasing the chair, he stepped away as he gestured at her. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said quietly. Her jaw was sore and scratched and the cut above her left eyebrow stung, but it could’ve been worse. The baby could’ve been hurt, too. Georgia had tended Emma, saying the wound wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. Thank goodness.
“I’m glad you’re all right.” The lantern light behind him stretched his shadow across the ceiling and far wall. His dark gaze burned into hers, causing a quiver in her belly. “It never should’ve happened.”
She managed a small smile, her body humming with a low vibration she didn’t understand. And a heightened awareness that she and Jake were the only two down here.
The front door opened and they both turned toward the sound. Bram came in, pulling off his dirty cowboy hat and hanging it on the rack behind the door. Red dust floated from his dark hair and rugged work clothes to the floor as he backed into the wall, toeing off one boot then the other.
Jake took a step toward the other man. “Any luck?”
Bram nodded, his gaze going to Emma. “Hi, Miz York.”
“Hello. I was just fixing a plate for you. I’ll get it.”
“Thanks.” His voice was gritty with fatigue. “I’m so hungry I could eat my saddle blanket.”
She walked the few steps into the kitchen, able to hear their low murmurs and catch a few words. She appreciated that they were keeping their voices down so as not to wake the baby.
Jake had told her earlier that Bram had gone out today with a group of ranchers, all riding fence to check on their cattle. In the last two weeks, the Circle R had lost four prime steers to a rustler. Jake had mentioned that a neighboring spread, the Rocking H, and the nearby Triple B ranch had also lost some prime beef. The Rocking H belonged to Sheriff Holt’s brother, Riley, but Emma couldn’t remember the name of the other owner. She knew they were both friends of the Ross family.
“We found an old camp and three ash piles.” Bram’s voice was scratchy with fatigue. “Riley and I figure it’s from the fire they used to heat their own brands and change ours.”
“A running iron?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re modifying our brand, Holt’s, the Baldwins.”
“Yeah, and right now we don’t know what mark they’re using. Could be a bar, a circle. We just don’t know.”
“You got a brand book?” Jake asked.
“The last one issued by the livestock association and a copy of The Prairie Caller for double-checkin’. There may be some new brands in the paper’s latest edition.”
Emma knew The Prairie Caller was the newspaper in Whirlwind. The newspaper in which Jake had run an ad hoping to get a family for Molly.
“At least the book will show us what’s legitimate,” Jake said. “Maybe help us figure out the brands that aren’t.”
The men’s voices dropped so low that Emma couldn’t hear any more. She uncovered the plate of corn bread and ham she’d put aside for Bram. After removing a cloth from the earthen pitcher of buttermilk, she filled a real glass, then carried it with the plate to the dining-room table. She set down the food, glancing toward the brothers.
Jake’s gaze flickered over her, his jaw locking, his eyes flashing. Apprehension had her going still. Why was he looking at her like that? What were they talking about?
“Well?” Bram leveled a look at his brother.
Jake turned away and started for the stairs. Over his shoulder, he said, “Good night, Miz York.”
“Good night.”
Bram gave a derisive snort and came to the table. Emma looked from him to Jake, who was already halfway up the stairs. What was going on?
Bram slid into his chair. “This looks really good, ma’am. You’re a good cook.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ross.”
“You’d better call me Bram.” His blue eyes twinkled. “You’ll talk yourself dizzy calling all three of us Mr. Ross.”
“All right.” She turned for the kitchen. “I’ll be in here, finishing up. If you need anything, let me know.”
He nodded, already digging in. Giving one last look to make sure Molly still slept, Emma went back into the kitchen and pumped water into the deep sink. Back in Topeka, her mother’s house had boasted an indoor pump and a bathing tub. Emma had been pleasantly surprised to find those conveniences here, too. There was even an oblong bathing tub in her room. Jake Ross and his family must do very well with their ranch.
She washed the bread pans, the griddle, the egg beater and the good china Georgia said had been her mother’s, setting everything on the wide counter to the side to hand-dry when she finished rinsing.
As she worked, her mind went again to the wagon accident. Once they’d arrived home, Jake