Hill Country Courtship

His mother’s health wasn’t robust, but there was nothing wrong with her memory, unfortunately. Her mind was sharp as a dirk and her tongue just as cutting. He’d learned to cope by pretending nothing she said affected him, or sometimes, when his temper was truly frayed, by responding in kind, but it didn’t make him feel better to do so.

“There were, but I thought the one I spoke to was the best candidate.” He couldn’t say why he thought so, other than the air of competence Maude Harkey wore like a shield—and the firmness of her resolve that made him believe she might be a match for even his mother’s cantankerousness. It certainly wasn’t that he was attracted to her for his own sake. No, he was done with all that.

“Did you think to be a miser and offer her less than the thirty dollars a month we agreed upon?” his mother asked, suspicion threaded through her voice like the tightest-woven wool tartan.

It was ironic that she accused him of miserliness—normally it was his mother who took Scottish frugality to the extreme.

“No.” He hadn’t even gotten to the subject of wages, as he recalled. As soon as Maude Harkey learned what he was asking, she’d refused to consider his proposition outright. Now he wished he had gone ahead and taken the time to meet some of the other young ladies at the barbecue. He shouldn’t have let the redheaded Miss Harkey blind him to the possible suitability of the others. As he’d said, it wasn’t as if he was seeking a wife.

“Well, you’d best be searching for some way to convince a woman to come out here,” his mother continued. “I’ve no time for your nonsense or your dillydallying.”

Jonas gritted his teeth and forced himself not to respond. After all, his mother wasn’t entirely wrong. He did need to find her a companion as soon as possible. He resolved that he would make another trip into town, as soon as he could find the time to get away from the ranch.

And this time, he wouldn’t leave until he’d found a woman who’d say yes.

Chapter Three (#ulink_6f7e5863-e6dc-58ac-a66f-e1d4138df19d)

After their middle-of-the-night ordeal, Maude slept right through Sunday breakfast. When she finally awoke, she felt a pleasant sense of accomplishment. Despite April Mae’s sudden and entirely unexpected appearance on their doorstep, they had helped her deliver a beautiful, healthy baby. Maude’s father would have been proud.

She couldn’t help grinning. There was a baby in the boardinghouse, a pink innocent creature all fresh and new, with that incomparable baby smell. Soon they’d have to do what they could to track down tiny Hannah’s errant father and insist he do right by April Mae and their child, but for now, Maude could enjoy the presence of an infant in her dreary life for her to care for.

Excited about the prospect of holding tiny Hannah, Maude dressed, washed her hands with water from the ewer, dried them on a towel and left her room. She’d go to church, then on to Ella’s café and help her friend there for awhile, but she couldn’t resist taking a few minutes to cuddle the baby first and see if the new mother was resting all right.

She found Mrs. Meyer had beaten her to it. The old woman was sitting in the rocking chair in April Mae’s room, humming, little Hannah in her arms. An old wooden cradle sat on the floor between the bed and the rocking chair. Mrs. Meyer must have brought it down from the attic, Maude thought. Had it been from that long-ago time when the proprietress had been a young mother? How nice that it was getting used again.

April Mae’s eyes were closed, but she opened them at the creaking of the opening door. Her gaze darted first to the infant, then, satisfied, to Maude.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Sore...but ain’t she purty?” April Mae said, smiling at her child, her eyes bright with pride.

Mrs. Meyer rose and handed Maude the baby. “I’d better go start workin’ on dinner—noon’ll be here before we know it,” she said, and left.

“She’s perfect,” Maude agreed, even as she took note of the purple shadows under April Mae’s eyes. Her face was slightly swollen from the exertion she’d gone through the night before, but Maude told herself not to jump to conclusions that anything was amiss. All women looked like that after delivering a baby, more or less. “Is she nursing all right?”

“She’s getting the hang of it,” April Mae said, still smiling, but her eyelids flickered drowsily.

“It’s all right to go back to sleep,” Maude assured her. “You need to rest up after the wonderful job you did last night, bringing Hannah into the world. I’ll just sit and hold her for a few minutes, then put her in the cradle when I have to leave. Will you be able to get her if she wakes?”

“Mmm-hmm...”

Within seconds, her soft snores told Maude the girl slept. Now she had time to think about how April Mae and the baby’s coming was likely to change life here at the boardinghouse—and how that was likely to affect her.

But the image of Jonas MacLaren and his job offer, delivered in that delicious accent, kept intruding on her mind.

* * *

Reining in his horse on the knoll overlooking the flock, Jonas MacLaren doffed his wide-brimmed hat and took a moment to rub both temples with his thumb and fingers.

“What’s wrong, patrón?” Hector asked, bringing his mount alongside Jonas’s. “You got dolor de cabeza? A headache?”

Jonas gave his segundo a sideways glance. “I’m all right.”

“With respect, senor, you do not look it,” his Tejano foreman said in his forthright manner. “I think you are hungry. Why not go back to the big house and have something to eat? You been out with me since dawn, and I’m thinking you did not break your fast before you left the house, sí? The flocks will still be here when you return.”

Jonas stared down at the peacefully grazing cluster of merinos that dotted the slope below like so many little clouds of creamy white, though some of the “clouds” had long, curling horns. They were but a small portion of his flock, which numbered about two thousand. Scattered among these were Angora goats, similarly colored, that produced prized mohair.

“Maybe I’ll see what’s in the pot in the bunkhouse,” Jonas muttered. “It’s not real peaceful in the big house at the moment.”

Hector’s dark eyes took on a gleam of understanding. “Ah. Senora MacLaren, she is on the warpath again?”

Jonas couldn’t suppress a rueful smile at his mother being compared to a rampaging wild Indian. Between all the Spanish and “Texanisms” he was picking up since he’d bought the ranch and moved himself and his mother to the Hill Country of Texas, he’d added considerably to his vocabulary.

“Yes, she is. This morning she threw a dish of huevos rancheros at Senora Morales, saying respectable scrambled eggs didn’t need heathenish peppers in them.”

“Ay yi yi,” Hector said, but his attempt to look concerned was utterly defeated by the grin he couldn’t quite stop. The senora’s tantrums were legendary, and on the ranch they had become a source of great amusement...to those who didn’t have to experience them firsthand.

“You smile, but Senora Morales told me if I didn’t find a companion for the senora within the week, she would leave and go back to her sister’s in San Antonio.”

“Do not worry, patrón. She doesn’t mean it.”

Jonas raked a hand through his hair. “This time, I think she just might,” he insisted.

“If she left, I could ask my sister, the one who lives in Refugio to come and be your cook,” Hector offered. “It would take her a while to travel so far, though.”

Jonas shook his head. “You already told me how sweet-tempered she is. I’d hate to inflict my mother on someone like that. And it really is too much work, to handle the cooking and cleaning, and care for my mother on top of that. No, she needs a dedicated companion. And to fill that role, I’m starting to think what my mother needs is someone as strong willed as she is.”

Unbidden, the image of Maude Harkey came to mind once again. He resolutely banished it. Miss Harkey had already said no, and that was the end of it.

Hector shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“Meanwhile, I’m heading for the bunkhouse. Tamales eaten in peace are better than risking my ears in the ranch house right now.” Maybe he’d get an inspiration while he ate for where he could find the right lady.

He had missed his chance to speak to several ladies at once by not taking full advantage of the Spinsters’ Club barbecue. It was unlikely he’d find so many potential candidates in one place again. But he wouldn’t let that obstacle stop him. If he knew anything, it was that no man in the world was more tenacious than a Scotsman. He would find the right woman to see to his mother’s needs.

But in the meantime he’d enjoy a quiet meal, and he might just grab a siesta afterward on one of the empty bunks. He would find a companion soon, but not tonight. And in the absence of someone to abate her tantrums, he knew he’d need his rest before he had to face his mother again.

* * *

“You go ahead, Maude,” Ella Justiss said that evening, when the last customer had left the little café that Maude helped her run. “I’m just going to wash these few remaining dishes. Would you want Nate to walk you home? By the time he did that and came back, I’d be ready to go.” She nodded toward Nate Bohannan, her fiancé, who was sitting at one of the tables, having just finished a helping of Ella’s fried chicken. “I know you want to go check on little Hannah.”

“I’d be happy to walk with you, Miss Maude,” Nate confirmed.

“There’s no need, but thank you, Nate. I’ll be fine. You two have wedding plans to discuss.” She had no fear at the prospect of walking back to the boardinghouse by herself. Simpson Creek was a safe little town, even at night. Untying her apron, she hung it up on a peg by the door and removed her shawl from another peg.

“I’ll light a lantern for you, at least,” Nate said. “Then you can be on your way.”

Maude couldn’t deny that she was eager to see that tiny little bundle of perfection, with her rosebud mouth and the thick thatch of downy black hair, so she walked quickly across the bridge over the creek and down darkened Main Street, taking a shortcut via the alley between the mercantile and the hotel to reach the boardinghouse on Travis Street.