Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

" Y ou have a visitor, Miss Evie," Ana, who'd come back to the ranch after staying with her folks for more than a week, stated as she stopped at the riding ring's fence. "A Mr. Ambrose. He's waiting in the parlor. He says he's here in regard to the letter he received."

Another one of Lucy's mail-order husbands. At least she was prepared this time. She knew what to expect and what to do. She'd be honest and forthright, but kind when she sent him on his way. "I'll be right in, Ana. Would you please bring us some coffee?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She watched the young woman go back in the house, and let out another sigh, then hopped down from the fence where she'd been perched, watching Jake with Cinnamon. He'd done well, considering he'd never done this before. He was a natural, despite his initial statement revealing he was uncomfortable with horses, but then, his only experience had been years ago, and with a horse who probably didn't like anyone except for Father O'Malley.

Yesterday, they had put the bridle in the horse's mouth. Cinnamon hadn't liked it much, but Jake managed to handle her just fine. Today, they'd put a saddle on the filly for the first time. Cinnamon hadn't been happy about that, either, but Jake had managed to calm her down…and keep her calm, talking to her. The horse seemed to understand..

"Jake? Will you be all right out here with Cinnamon alone?"

"Cinnamon and I will be fine. She likes me." He stopped and stroked the horse's neck, the reins held loosely in his hands like he'd been doing this all his life.

She was amused and touched by his obvious affection for the filly, as well as his growing confidence. "Yes, she certainly seems to. Take her around the ring a couple more times then let her into the paddock with the other horses. When I come back, we can continue your riding lessons."

He touched the brim of his hat, then smiled at her in such a way that her pulse quickened and flooded her with warmth. "Yes, ma'am."

Evie walked across the barnyard and garden and entered the house. Hilde, Ana, and Felicity were in the kitchen, obviously waiting for her, expectation and humor on their faces.

"Not one word," she warned them, as she gave them each a look, then pushed through the swinging door and walked down the hall. She peeled off her gloves and removed her hat, leaving them on the table beside the parlor door. Pasting a smile on her face, she stopped in the parlor doorway, the greeting on her lips dying.

The tallest, thinnest man—emaciated might have been a better word—she'd ever seen wasn't sitting in one of the chairs waiting for her. No, he was busy rearranging all the photographs on the table in front of one of the windows, using his pristine white handkerchief to wipe the dust from both the surface and frame before placing each picture precisely so. He stepped back and admired his handiwork, adjusted one of the photographs and let out a sigh. She could have sworn she heard him mutter "perfect" before he bent low and picked up a wooden block with the letter A on it from the floor. He started to put the toy on the table among the photographs, seemed to shudder as if doing so would offend his sense of order, then stuffed the block into the pocket of his loose black suit, followed by his handkerchief.

Who does that? Who comes into a complete stranger's home and begins cleaning it?

Granted, she didn't have the cleanest home in the valley. Who would with so many people living in one space, not to mention the children, who were prone to leaving their toys wherever they happened to be playing with them?

He hadn't seen her yet. Maybe she could just slip away and have Ana say she wasn't available, but that wasn't her way. She pasted a smile on her face and walked into the room. "Hello. May I help you?"

He turned quickly and Evie took an involuntary step back. She'd never seen a person so pale before, as if he'd lived in the shadows and never walked in the sunlight. Or perhaps, he'd been ill for a long time…a very long time. The blackness of his suit didn't help at all. The color only served to make his skin even whiter by comparison.

Twin spots of color flared on his high cheekbones, as if he'd taken rouge and drawn red circles on his face. His prominent Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Miss Miller?" His voice was just as reedy as the rest of him, like it was an effort for him to speak.

"Yes." She couldn't judge how old he was. Certainly older than her, but by how much, she couldn't tell. There wasn't a wrinkle on his gaunt, clean-shaven face, not even smile lines around his mouth. His hair, a dirty dishwater gray, was slicked back with much too much pomade, the comb marks clearly visible…and perfect somehow.

"Barnaby Ambrose." He moved toward her and extended a skeletal hand, his fingers long and bony, the nails surprisingly manicured. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her hand, but he grasped hers instead, his grip weak and so very dry. "A pleasure to meet you in person after our exchange of letters," he said as he pumped her hand up and down, precisely twice then released her. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the chance you would be home this afternoon. I just arrived in Serenity yesterday and I would have liked to have visited you then, but the journey, quite frankly, exhausted me."

Yes, she could believe that. Just the short walk from the window to where she stood had left him breathless and wheezing.

His pale gray eyes swept over her face, then came to rest on her cheek. A small shudder rippled through him as that white handkerchief came out of his pocket once more. "If I may? You have something on your face." His lips pressed together as he raised his hand. "I believe it's…I'm not sure what it is."

Was he going to touch her? She resisted the urge to recoil from the possibility, but she did take a step back and grab the handkerchief from him. "Oh, I was out by the corral. It must be dirt."

"Dirt?" His eyebrows lowered, forming a perfect furrow and his lips pressed together even more, making his cheeks sink in a little. What was that? Disgust? Distaste? Intolerance? A ranch would be the last place he should be if that were the case. Instead of being offended, as he seemed to be, Evie was amused. Monta?a del Trueno was not the place for him.

"Well, yes, this is a working ranch. There is dirt and dust everywhere," she said, as she strode to the small mirror beside the door. She inspected her face and noticed a small splotch of dirt on her cheek, hardly enough to be noticeable, and yet he had noticed. She resisted the urge to giggle as she wiped it away and turned away from the mirror and walked across the room. She held out his handkerchief. "Thank you." Mr. Ambrose hesitated before he took it with just forefinger and thumb with an expression of pure horror. Evie stifled the urge to laugh and gestured to one of the chairs. "Please have a seat. Ana is bringing coffee."

He used the handkerchief again, despite the fact that it was now a little dirty, to swipe at the chair before he sat then made a huge production of straightening the crease in his trouser leg and flicking some imaginary lint from the black material. When he finished, his gaze flew to her boots. She followed his line of sight. Her boots were covered in dust, as one would expect them to be, while his shoes were buffed to a high polish. Again, those thin eyebrows furrowed on his pale forehead, and it took everything she had not to laugh out loud. Oh yes, a ranch, especially one with young children, was the wrong place for this man to be. One couldn't walk through the barnyard without kicking up dust.

She got right to the point. "Mr. Ambrose, there has been a misunderstanding. I did not write the advertisement you responded to, nor did I write the letter asking you to come here to meet. It was my niece, doing so on my behalf…without my knowledge I might add, but I must ask—given your obvious… distaste for all things dirty and dusty, why would you come here? Surely, you must have expected such, considering that this is a working ranch."

He cleared his throat and those twin spots of color on his cheeks seemed to get brighter. "My doctor suggested a climate drier than Atlanta. For my lungs. And then, I saw your advertisement and I thought, New Mexico has a dry climate. I considered it serendipitous."

So, in reality, he wasn't truly looking to get married, he was just looking for a dry place to live. If a wife came with the location, so much the better.

Ana chose that moment to bring in the coffee service. Given the expression the young woman wore, it was clear that she'd never seen a man such as Mr. Barnaby Ambrose. She bit her lip, but her chocolate-brown eyes twinkled with amusement. She placed the tray on the table between them, nudging the photograph of Miguel out of the way.

"Thank you, Ana."

She dipped a slight curtsey then exited the room as fast as her feet could carry her. Evie was certain she heard a bubble of muffled laughter as she slipped through the door. She could just imagine that Hilde and Felicity were trying to steal peeks at him, too. By supper, the news that another one of Lucy's potential husbands had visited would be all over the ranch—if it took that long—and she could just imagine the description they'd give of this man.

Evie turned her attention back to Mr. Ambrose…and wished she hadn't. He was staring at her in the most peculiar way, his dull gray eyes wide in his gaunt face. She concentrated on keeping any emotion from showing on her face, but there was no way on earth she was willing to contemplate any sort of future with this man.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Tell me a little about yourself, Mr. Ambrose," she encouraged while she poured Hilde's fine coffee into thin china cups and offered one to him. "What do you do?"

He accepted it, using the handkerchief so he wouldn't have to touch the saucer. He took a sip of the coffee and made a face, as if the beverage was too strong. "I was a schoolteacher before I became ill."

"I see. How long did you teach?"

"Ten years, first in New York, then Atlanta. It was enjoyable…for the most part. Children, when taught well, are our finest gifts and our best future. I will admit that I am a bit of a taskmaster. When I give an assignment I expect it to be done." His gaze roamed her face. "I believe all children should be well-behaved and speak only when spoken to."

She didn't quite know what to say to that. She didn't believe that philosophy for a moment. Children, in her experience, did better when they were able to express their thoughts.

She happened to look out the window and saw Lucy ride up to the front of the house. How appropriate. Now, not only could she tell her niece what she thought of the men she'd chosen, but she could show her as well and put a stop to this nonsense once and for all.

"As I said, Mr. Ambrose, I did not write either the advertisement or the subsequent letter in response to your reply. Quite frankly, I am not interest in getting married."

"My dear Miss Miller, that is simply not acceptable." He heaved in a breath—a wheezing breath—and let it out slowly, the bright spots of color on his cheeks beginning to dull, but not very much. "I have come a long way, with the express purpose of marrying you."

"I am sorry, Mr. Ambrose, but I believe the letter my niece wrote suggested we meet and get to know each other. There was no promise of marriage, unless, of course, we happen to get along and both agree."

He stared at her and then the corner of his mouth lifted upward in what she assumed was a smile, but it didn't quite meet the definition. "Then I would like the opportunity to do so. Get to know each other, that is."

Just the thought of getting to know this man made her stomach knot, but still, he had come a long way. "You may stay here at Monta?a del Trueno if you wish. I can offer you a position as a ranch hand, considering the circumstances. The position includes a bed in the bunkhouse and meals, plus a dollar a day."

If possible, his face paled even more, except for the color on his cheeks, which seemed to be permanent. "Miss Miller, I can assure you that I am no ranch hand." The tone of his voice clearly conveyed his displeasure. Indeed, he seemed offended that she should make such an offer. He put his cup and saucer back on the tray, none too gently. "I do not ride. Nor do I keep company with cattle, filthy beasts that they are."

Evie bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from smiling. Her plan, such as it was, seemed to be working. "There are other things to be done on a ranch, Mr. Ambrose. One does not need to know how to ride."

That sparked his interest. "Other things? Such as?"

"Well, the barn needs to be mucked out daily, chickens need to be fed, pigs slopped, wood chopped. Things of that nature."

He flinched with every task she mentioned then took a deep, wheezing breath, his thin chest moving with the effort. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he managed to ask, "Are you suggesting that I…clean up…after filthy animals?"

"It's not a suggestion, Mr. Ambrose. It's all part of living and working on a ranch. These are the things that need to be done."

He stood abruptly and stalked across the room, retrieving his hat from the chair beside the table where he'd been rearranging her photographs, and placed it on his head precisely so. "Miss Miller, your proposal is—" Indeed, her offer seemed to be so offensive to him that he couldn't even express it in words, though he did shudder. "Hardly necessary. I have secured a position teaching here and purchased a small house." He glared at her as if she'd done something wrong, which she hadn't. "On further consideration, I would like to rescind my request that we get to know each other better. Good day." He gave a slight nod and left the room in such a hurry, she was afraid he'd collapse, necessitating a stay here, where, she was certain, he expected to be waited on hand and foot.

"Excuse me, miss," she heard him say to someone in the hallway just moments before the front door slammed.

"Who was that?" Lucy entered the parlor, her brow wrinkled.

"That, mi corazón , was Mr. Barnaby Ambrose." Evie rose from her seat and walked to the window. "The latest in your mail-order husbands."

Lucy joined her at the window as she watched him climb into the buggy he had rented from the livery in Serenity—she recognized it as well as saw the name emblazoned on the side—and shake the reins. In moments, he was gone, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. The sense of relief rushing through her made her shiver.

She turned toward her niece. "Do you see what I have been dealing with?"

"Oh, Tia Evie, I am sorry." She laughed. "I had no idea."

"It isn't funny, Lucy. I thought I told you I wanted this to stop. I don't want any more potential husbands showing up, expecting…whatever it is they're expecting." .

"I sent the letters like you asked me to, Tia, but I think it was too late."

She studied her niece. "Then I suggest you send a telegraph to whoever hasn't shown yet and tell them not to come."

"Yes, Tia . I am sorry. Truly. I should never have embarked on trying to find you a husband." Her smile dimmed. "I have learned my lesson."

"Have you?"

Lucy backed up a step, and her eyes widened in shock, already beginning to well with tears. "You're still upset with me."

"I am."

"I don't like it when you're upset with me."

"I know, but Lucy, you have to think of the consequences before you do something." Evie raised her hand and reached out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. "But I still love you and I will forgive you. Eventually." She dropped her hand. It was the truth. She would forgive her. "I know you did what you thought was…helpful, but Lucy, it really wasn't. We have been lucky that everyone who has come here has been decent, even sweet, if a little strange."

"I know that. Now." Her voice was low and hoarse.

Evie simply stared, unmoved by the sparkle of tears in her eyes. "I hope you do. All this could have turned out so badly."

Lucy walked to the chair recently vacated by Mr. Ambrose and flopped into it. She swiped at her eyes then took a deep breath. Evie could feel her gaze on her back and it grew quiet in the room. The silence didn't last long. "I understand you're going for a drive with Mr. Parrish tomorrow."

"Yes, I am." She stayed at the window, making sure Mr. Ambrose wasn't coming back, then turned back to her niece, utterly frustrated. "Did you not understand what I just said?"

"I did, but you've already met Mr. Parrish. He enjoyed his visit with you."

"Lucy, just stop." She raised her voice. "You are the most stubborn…" She paused, realizing she was describing herself as well, then relented a bit and answered the question. "I have no romantic interest in him."

"Why not? He's a handsome man." Lucy grabbed one of the cookies from the platter and took a bite.

"Ah, Lucy, there's more to it than being handsome, as we've discussed before. Someone could be the handsomest man or the most beautiful woman in the world, but if their heart isn't kind, then it's only half the story. Looks fade. A good heart does not." Evie shook her head and stepped away from the window. "Mr. Parrish seems to be a very nice person and he does seem to have a good heart, but he's still in love with his late wife, which is obvious if you talk to him for more than a moment."

She joined her niece but didn't sit. Instead, she grabbed her coffee, though it had gone cold, and took a sip. "He's not looking for a replacement, as if any woman could ever replace his Fanny. He's just looking for companionship, and I wouldn't mind that at all. Don't make it more than it is."

"Yes, ma'am." Lucy rose from her seat and grabbed the tray with the coffee service. "I should work on the payroll. I'll take the coffee with me."

"I'll bring you a clean cup." She removed the cup Mr. Ambrose had been using and followed her niece from the parlor. They parted ways in the hall, Lucy heading for the study, Evie heading toward the kitchen.

"Is he gone?" Hilde asked, as Evie entered the kitchen.

"Yes, he's gone." She dumped the contents of both cups in the sink then grabbed a clean one from the cabinet for Lucy.

"I'm glad, liebchen . He wasn't for you." She shook her head and went back to kneading dough. "Never saw a man so pale in my life. Or so skinny. Like someone took the stuffing out of him and just left skin and bones."

"He's not coming back. Too much dirt." She laughed as she left the kitchen and headed down the hall, Lucy's cup in her hand.

Before she left Lucy, she said, "Come out to the riding ring when you're done with the books."

"Why?"

"I'm teaching Jake Hannigan how to ride."

"On Clementine?"

"Of course, on Clementine. She helped all of you learn how to ride. I wouldn't trust that job to another horse." She paused then added, "For a man who said he didn't know how to ride, he's doing remarkably well. He's learning to train, too."

Lucy smiled. "You like him."

Already feeling the heat rising to her face, Evie gave a slight nod, then escaped the room before her niece could ask more questions, but the thought remained in her head. Yes, she did like him. Very much so. He, at least, seemed to be honest in his intentions, without any other motives such as marrying her to own this ranch or so she could be his workhorse. That in itself was refreshing.