Courting Miss Callie

He coughed, shot the pile of debris he’d swept up out into the barn area and hurried out the door to catch a breath of dust-free air. Callie Conner was an enigma. Every other woman he knew would have taken advantage of that moment. And the moment later on, too, when he’d caught her to keep her from burning herself on the stove. He’d been so tempted by her.

The women he knew would have encouraged him to kiss them. Of course, they knew he was wealthy. It was so good to not have that problem. To not have to wonder if it was you or your money a person was interested in. Not that Callie had shown any interest.

He dunked a grooming cloth into the watering trough and strode back into the equipment room. A few quick swipes and moonlight streamed through the small window to mix with the lantern’s glow. He ran the cloth over the dusty chest, shoved it back against the wall and did the same to the tin cupboard.

Perhaps that’s why Callie hadn’t encouraged him. Perhaps she thought he was just a poor, itinerant worker with nothing to offer her. She had certainly seemed friendly toward that well-dressed man he’d seen her with on the porch. She hadn’t smiled at him like that. Until later on. After their near accident in the shay. He’d been sorely tempted to kiss her then, too, with their faces so close, and her holding on to his arm. If she had shown any encouragement at all he’d have given in and pulled her into his arms. But she had slipped away from him to her side of the seat.

Perhaps she hadn’t encouraged him to kiss her because she was promised to someone.

An odd mixture of anger, helplessness and frustration struck him at that thought. He threw the wet rag over a nail in the wall, grabbed up the tonsorial case and put it beside the lantern sitting on a thick plank shelf that had held old horseshoes. He manhandled a short, thick log into the room, upended it beneath the shelf, plunked a bucket on top and felt some better after the physical exertion. Another cloth draped over the bucket’s handle completed his personal grooming area.

Or maybe Callie was exactly what she seemed—a woman totally unaffected by her beauty, and free of guile.

The way she’d been with those children today. And the sight of her cuddling that tiny infant...

The frustration swarmed back. He pivoted on his heel, strode to the cot and carried it back into the cleaned equipment room. One thing was certain, he was not going to leave the Sheffield house until he found out the truth about Callie and his growing attraction to her. And now, thanks to Sophia Sheffield, he would be able to maintain his disguise as a laborer. She had given him the perfect excuse to stay.

* * *

It was useless. The longing in her heart wouldn’t let her sleep. She never should have held Charlotte Deering’s tiny newborn. But she’d been unable to resist. Callie tossed back the covers, grabbed her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. She needed something warm and comforting—like the strong arms of a husband who loved her. But she’d have to settle for a cup of tea.

She shrugged into the dressing gown, fastened the ties and walked out into the kitchen. Moonlight streamed in the windows, made a dark shadow of the open doorway to Sophia’s private quarters. She tiptoed over and pulled her aunt’s door closed, stopping before the latch clicked into place and woke her. She was too vulnerable to hide her feelings in a chatty conversation.

A twist of the damper in the pipe and another to open the bottom draft brought the embers in the stove to life. She grabbed the lifter, quietly set aside the front plate, then reached for some wood. There were only a few pieces in the bottom of the box.

The image of Ezra standing in the kitchen with his arms full of stove wood snapped into her mind. Would he bring more in the morning? Or would he decide to move on in spite of her aunt’s offer of steady work? Who knew what to expect of Ezra Ryder, except for good manners?

She added three small sticks of wood to the glowing embers, ladled water into the iron teakettle and set it over the fire. Caring for the Deering children today had awakened the longing in her heart for a family of her own. And holding that tiny newborn... Tears flooded her eyes. It was going to be a long night.

The silk of her dressing gown whispered softly in the silence as she placed the china teapot on the worktable and crossed to the shelves on the wall. She reached for the tin of tea, paused and stepped closer to the window. A small square of yellow lantern light glowed through the silver of the moonlit night. The equipment room window. Ezra was awake. What was he doing at this late hour?

She frowned, took down the tea and walked back to spoon some into the teapot. He’d worked hard today. Whatever else Ezra was lying about, there was no gainsaying the fact that he knew what was needed on a farm. She’d caught glimpses of him out the window, tossing hay to the cows and carrying buckets out to the pigpen. And then he’d found a hen’s nest...

She put down the spoon and rested her hands on the table, remembering the way he’d come to the house and lifted Lily into his arms, took little Asa by the hand and went back out to show them the baby chicks. And the way he’d coaxed them into eating supper by telling them silly stories about animals until they forgot to be upset about their mama not getting out of bed.

Did Ezra have children of his own? Is that why he’d been so relaxed and natural with the Deering children? The men she knew were uncomfortable around two- and three-year-old toddlers. She placed the lid on the tea tin, carried it back to the shelf and peered out the window. The barn loomed in the darkness, the moonlight casting an argent sheen on the gambrel roof. There was no lantern light glowing in the small window. He’d gone to bed. Did he have a wife somewhere wishing he was home with her?

The thought sickened her. She didn’t want to believe it. But it was certain the man was hiding something. Why not a family? Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity to kiss her this morning. Or in the shay.

It was the first time in her life she’d wanted a man to kiss her...

Oh, how foolish was she, letting a liar reach her heart. She knew better than that. And it would stop right now. The silk dressing gown billowed out around her as she turned from the window and went to pour the water for her tea.

Chapter Six

Knuckles beat a sharp tattoo against wood.

Callie jumped, the knife in her hand slicing through the smoked ham to strike the bone.

“Gracious! Who would that be at this early hour?” Sophia put a towel-wrapped loaf of bread into the basket they were readying and hurried to the door.

“Why, Casper Karcher! You about startled the life out of us. What brings you knocking on my door? Come in.” Sophia stepped back and opened the door wide.

Callie smiled as her aunt’s old friend stepped across the threshold. “I’ve fresh coffee brewing, Mr. Karcher. Would you care for a cup?”

The lanky man looked her way and shook his head. “It smells good, Callie, but I’ve no time for socializing. I’ve got a wagonload of grain to get to Olville.” He turned back to her aunt. “I stopped to tell you there’s no more call for you to concern yourself with Charley’s family. Joanna heard about the baby being early and all, so I took Agnes over. She’ll stay and do for Charlotte and the little ones until there’s no more need. And Seth will see to the chores.”

“How kind of your children. Thank you for stopping to let me know, Casper.”

“Didn’t want Callie going out there for naught.” The man’s homely face was transformed by a smile. “Sorry about the scare, Sophie.” His smile widened into a grin. “Hiding behind that bush in the schoolyard and jumping out at you always made you scream. Guess you haven’t changed much.”

“Apparently, neither have you, Casper.”

He chuckled at her aunt’s rejoinder and turned away.

“Remember me to Joanna!” Sophia shut the door and looked over at her. “Well, that’s good news. Agnes is a very competent young woman. She will take good care of Charlotte and the children.”

“Yes.” She looked down at the sliced ham she’d intended for Lily and Asa’s lunch and fought to push back the cloud of disappointment settling over her. That’s what she got for allowing herself to pretend. To dream. But, she’d thought she’d have another few days.

“Is there something wrong, dear?”

She tensed as Sophia came close. She couldn’t deny it outright, her aunt was far too discerning for that. “Not really. It’s only that I enjoyed Charlotte’s children yesterday.” She forced a smile. “I seldom see children, and I was looking forward to being with them again today.”

Sophia looked at her.

Oh, dear. She shouldn’t have said that.

“You have no friends with children?”

“A few. But they employ wet nurses and nannies.” It wouldn’t do for them to miss their teas and parties and soirees. Her stomach clenched in a painful spasm. That would be her life if she married into that elite circle as her mother and father wished.

“Hmm.” Sophia removed the bread from the basket.

Please let that satisfy her. She tightened her grip on the knife she held and sliced ham to avoid Sophia’s gaze.

“Mr. Anderson and Mr. Gerben left yesterday afternoon. I’ve only three guests at present.”

What? She glanced up. “I beg your pardon?”

Sophia’s head dipped toward the table. “That seems like quite a bit of ham.”

She looked down at the pile of slices she’d amassed. Another mistake. There was far too much to fry for breakfast. “What I don’t use this morning, I will combine with potatoes and onions to bake for supper.”

“Hmm. The guests should enjoy that. Perhaps some slaw, also.” Her aunt set the emptied basket on the floor at the end of the fireplace. “Have we any cabbages?”

So casual. So...disarming. “Yes. Mr. Hoffman brought us three large ones when he delivered the milk and cheese.” She rubbed her palms against her apron and moved toward the door. “I need to get eggs for breakfast.” And get outside before you continue questioning me about that slip of the tongue. She reached for her cape.

“You should have your own.”