Baby On Her Doorstep. Rhonda GibsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
anymore and that I could borrow them. I know they are too big, but it will be much easier to ride on the horse and I’ll be able to play with the girls in the water without fear of my skirts weighing me down when they get wet.”
Her words came out faster than he’d ever heard her speak. Even Grace looked up at her with wide, amazed eyes. Laura’s cheeks were pink when she finally raised her gaze to look at him. Was she embarrassed to be wearing men’s pants? Or did she think he’d be angry at her for doing so? His wife, Martha, would have fainted if anyone had even suggested she wear pants.
He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. Clint walked about her and clicked his tongue. “Seems to me, while you’re making the girls pants, you might oughta take those up a mite, too. They are falling right off of you.”
Laura released Hope’s little hand. “There’s no chance of that happening.” She held up the end of her shirt just enough for him to see the dark brown drapery cord that held the pants up around her waist. Laura’s smile and her look of triumph caused the breath to quicken in his throat. She really was quite a woman.
Hope toddled over to him and clutched his leg. He bent down and asked, “Want to ride with me? Or—?” Clint was at a loss for words. He’d never heard what Laura called herself to the little girl. His gaze searched hers.
“Laura,” she answered softly.
His gaze returned to the little girls. “Or Laura?”
The softest of whispers answered, “Ewwww.”
He swung Hope up into the air and was rewarded with a sweet giggle. Clint looked to Laura and Grace. “You don’t mind riding with Laura, do you, Gracie?”
The little girl tugged Laura’s hand and tried to walk toward the mare Clint had saddled for her earlier. Her little voice chattered as she tugged.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He chuckled.
“Hold up, Grace. I need to get our bag from the porch.”
Grace dropped Laura’s hand and started walking to the porch. While they retrieved the bag, Clint put Hope on his shoulders.
Laura returned with the bag and Grace. She tied the bag to her saddle horn and then swung into the saddle as if it were an everyday occurrence. Her lips twitched as she looked down at him and said, “Would you mind handing Grace up to me?”
Clint balanced Hope on his shoulders and scooped Grace up. He handed the child to Laura and grinned. “Why, Mrs. Lee, I believe you have some explaining to do. I’ve never met a prim and proper schoolteacher who can swing into a saddle like you just did.”
Laura adjusted Grace in front of her. “It’s been a while, but I’ll be honest. It felt good.”
Once Hope was off his shoulders and sitting in front of him, Clint urged his horse toward the west pasture. “Do you mind if I ask where you learned to mount a horse like that?”
She guided the little mare he’d chosen for her up beside him. “Not at all. I grew up on a small farm. Daddy only had me and my younger sister to help out. We learned to ride at a young age.” Her blue eyes met his. “If you need help with the fence line, I can do that, too.” She raised her head high. “I’m not ashamed that I can ride and work a farm, Mr. Shepard.”
“You shouldn’t be, Mrs. Lee.” He pressed Hope’s back closer to his stomach as the little girl seemed to want to slide to the left. “I’m hoping Gracie will want to ride and fix fences someday, too.”
“I never said I wanted to fix fences.” She wrinkled her nose at him.
He laughed. “I’m not sure anyone wants to fix fences. I know that I usually take on that job. My men would rather be herding cattle or feeding. Can’t blame them for that. It’s a hot job.”
The little girls babbled to each other as they rode along. Laura nodded her head. Her floppy hat had fallen to her back, held by the string that she’d tied under her chin. The sun caught the reddish highlights in her hair.
“It gets pretty cold during the winter, too. I remember one year the snow was up to our horses’ bellies. We had an old bull that had kicked through the fence and headed to the barn. Pa and I spent half a day just fixing it enough to keep the other cows in, but come spring we had to fix it proper.” She shuddered. “I don’t believe I had ever been that cold before.”
“You grew up here in Texas?” Clint heard the sound of running water ahead.
The horses heard it, too, and picked up the pace.
“No, I grew up in Kansas.” Laura gave her horse its head, and it galloped across the pasture where the stream, grass and trees awaited.
Clint followed at a slower pace. The sound of Grace’s squeals of happiness touched a part of his heart that had lain dormant for the past couple of years. Grace was his pride and joy, but very seldom had he heard the child laugh with such abandon.
It seemed Laura brought out the joy in the little girl. She’d had that effect on him earlier, too. Was it because she was a woman? Or was it because she belonged on the Shepard Ranch? The unbidden question entered his mind. Was it possible she belonged with them?
He squished the thought of her belonging on the ranch and with them. Clint mentally reminded himself that Laura was only going to be with them a few months and that he had no business thinking of her staying any longer.
* * *
Laura tucked the children into their beds. It had been a fun afternoon with the girls. They’d giggled and splashed in the water while Clint worked on the fence. She’d watched him and wondered why he’d suddenly gone from chatty to quiet. It didn’t matter. For a few moments she’d allowed herself to become too friendly with her boss. Thanks to his response to her being from Kansas—at least that’s what she figured had turned him into a quiet cattleman—she’d come to her senses and become the nanny she was supposed to be and focused on the girls.
Still, she couldn’t help but think of Clint’s change in behavior. He’d gone from teasing and laughing to quiet, almost somber. Laura shook her head. If she went to bed thinking like this she’d never get any sleep. She walked to the kitchen to make a warm glass of milk. Warm milk always helped her to sleep better.
Clint was still out in the barn. He hadn’t come in for dinner. Mrs. Murphy had sent plates out to the barn for him and Richard. They had a cow out there that seemed to be having difficulty birthing her calf. Laura made a mental note to check on Grace again before heading to bed.
Camelia sat at the kitchen table sorting brown beans. She looked up when Laura entered. “Can’t sleep?”
Laura smiled. “I haven’t tried, yet. Thought I’d have a little warm milk before bed.”
She nodded. “I wouldn’t mind having a mug of warm milk, too. If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Laura pulled out a pot to heat the milk.
“Any word on how Bessy is doing?”
“Bessy?” Camelia frowned.
“The cow.” Laura poured the milk into the pan and looked over her shoulder at the older woman with a grin.
“You named the cow?”
Laura shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
The other woman chuckled. “Bessy—” she paused in her bean sorting “—is still laboring away.”
Stirring the milk with a wooden spoon, Laura sympathized with the cow. “Poor thing.”
“Having three children myself, I feel her pain.” Camelia slid the remaining beans into her pot and stood.
“You have three children?”
Camelia laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. I had a life before we moved here, ya know.”
“I