Hill Country Courtship

Then she felt a pang of guilt, remembering that Juana had been the one who had been nursing this baby, despite her grief over her own lost child and husband. “But what about you?” she asked Juana. “Don’t you want to—” The infant in her arms gave a little squeak, and Maude realized her arms had tightened around her too much, in instinctive fear that the little one might be taken away from her. She relaxed them immediately, and Hannah resumed slumbering.

“I love that little dear one,” Juana said, nodding toward Hannah in Maude’s arms. “She has given me a purpose and kept me from despair after losing my Tomás and my little Tulio.” It was the first time she had mentioned her dead baby’s name, or her husband’s, since she’d arrived, though Maude often heard her weeping at night through the their common wall. “But she is an Anglo baby, sí? I love her, too, and I will stay with her as long as she needs me, but if I raised her as her mother, she might not be accepted in either the Anglo world or the Tejano one, do you see?”

Maude stared at her as the simple, stark truth sank in. However good relations were in Simpson Creek between the Tejanos and the Texans—or Anglos as the Tejanos called them—outside of it there was much anti-Mexican prejudice on the part of the whites, and resentment on the part of the Tejanos, who had settled this land first. A child caught between the two worlds would face the worst of both communities’ prejudices. Juana was right—it wouldn’t be fair to do that to Hannah—and it was all the more reason for Maude to keep her.

But if Maude kept Hannah and raised her—assuming Renz never returned to claim his daughter—she would need Juana’s help, and Juana couldn’t stay here at the boardinghouse indefinitely. Maude knew Mrs. Meyer well enough to know that as fond of Hannah as she was, the old woman was already fretting about the loss of rent from the room Juana was using. She’d had to turn away one customer already. And several of the men had lost no time in complaining about the noise of the baby’s crying.

Maude would have shared her own room with Juana gladly, but the room was tiny and the bed too narrow for two. Her funds wouldn’t stretch to the rent for two rooms. And that still wouldn’t resolve the problem of Hannah’s crying disturbing the other boarders. Even if Maude tried to arrange some deal with Mrs. Meyer to rent the two rooms, Maude doubted the woman would agree if having the baby on the premises drove away any of her other customers.

Juana’s mother lived in town, and the girl had mentioned that she wanted her daughter to come home now that she was widowed, but if Juana took Hannah there, the child wouldn’t know Maude by the time she was weaned. And Juana was young and attractive. Men might not wait long to come calling. And if Juana remarried, she might move away and Maude would lose track of Hannah forever.

She thought of the little cottage on the grounds of Gilmore House, the sumptuous mansion where the mayor and his wife lived. They would have let Maude and Juana use it for nothing, and it would have been perfect for the purpose. But Ella and her new husband would be occupying the cottage until Nate could build their house behind the café, which might not be for months unless the winter was very mild.

What to do? Please, Lord, show me the way...

Just then a knock sounded at the front entrance below. She tensed, thinking she might need to answer it, but then she heard Mrs. Meyer’s steady, measured steps heading for the door. It was too soon to expect the undertaker, in all likelihood. Would Mrs. Meyer have to turn away another customer? Was there any chance it was Felix Renz? Had someone found him already?

Maude rose and pushed open the door of Juana’s room about halfway, so they could hear who it was. She saw the swift look of understanding in Juana’s eyes.

“Yes, sir. What may I do for you?”

“My name is Jonas MacLaren, ma’am,” Maude heard the newcomer say. “I’m here to see Miss Harkey, if I may?”

Maude’s felt her heartbeat lurch into a gallop. Could the Lord be answering her prayer already, just a moment after she had prayed it?

“You have a gentleman caller?” Juana asked, a small smile playing about her lips. “An amante—a sweetheart?”

“No, nothing like that,” Maude said. “Juana, do you want to go home and live with your mother?”

Juana Benavides’s reaction was quick and unmistakeable. “No, I do not. I love mi madre, of course, but her house is diminuto, tiny. And full. My abuela, my grandmother, lives there, and my brother Luis, and my younger sisters...I have been a wife, Maude. I do not want to go back and live like an unmarried daughter.” Her eyes were wistful and sad.

“How would you feel about living on a ranch, at least for a while, until Hannah is weaned?”

Juana’s lovely forehead furrowed with confusion. “You have a ranch? Then why do you live here?”

“No, I don’t own a ranch. But I have an idea. I’ll explain everything after I talk to the gentleman downstairs—if he’s agreeable.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_0a3ff005-bc0a-52ad-88d0-f796eca2da2f)

Jonas watched her descend the stairs, regal as a queen, despite the fact that the dress she wore was everyday calico and the stair treads she set foot on were threadbare.

He stepped forward to greet her and she stopped on the last step, so they were at eye level. “Good morning, Mr. MacLaren. How nice of you to come calling.” Her blue eyes assessed him, as if daring him to admit right now that the reason for his visit wasn’t in the nature of a simple social call.

He’d take that dare, he decided. He didn’t have time to dance delicately around the matter.

“Good morning, Miss Harkey...” He hesitated, as one of the male boarders loomed suddenly over the railing, staring down at him curiously. Jonas’s gaze darted around the hallway. “Is there somewhere we could talk privately?”

Maude’s smile was serene. “I believe the parlor is free at the moment,” she said, leading the way and gesturing for him to follow her.

He chose a straight-backed, cane-bottomed chair, leaving her the more comfortable horsehair-stuffed sofa next to it.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. She just sat there waiting expectantly, while he searched for the right words, the right expression, that would ensure she gave him the answer that he wanted. He could brook no more delays in finding a companion for his mother, and he knew down to his bones that Maude Harkey was the right woman for the job. But could he make her see that?

He cleared his throat, which had become thick with apprehension. “Miss Harkey, when we met Saturday, you will recall that I asked you to consider a position as companion to my mother. At the time, you declined to consider it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod.

Why was he speaking so formally? She knew as well as he did what had transpired in their conversation that day. Why did he feel he had to restate the case, as if he were some starchy-collared lawyer?

He cleared his throat again. Should he just come right out and ask her once more if she would be willing to take the job she had seemed so opposed to before, as if he just assumed that she would have reconsidered and decided to take him up on it? As if by coming here today, he was merely sparing her the trip out to Five Mile Hill Ranch to ask him if the job was still open?

No. It might be too easy for her to take offense if he took that approach. Better to be honest, to lay all his cards out on the table, so she would feel as if she was the one doing him the favor. Which she would be, of course. He’d make that clear, too. She deserved to know what she was in for if she accepted the position.

He turned to face her. “Miss Harkey, I beg you to reconsider. We need you—my mother needs you—very much. If I don’t return with at least a promise that you will come and help us, our housekeeper will quit. I have a ranch to run, ma’am, and all I’m getting done is pacifying Senora Morales so that she will stay one more hour, one more day.”

Miserably, he let his gaze drop to his hands once again. Maude Harkey was going to refuse once more, he was certain of it. He would have to retreat to his fallback position, which was pleading with her to introduce him to one of her friends who might be willing to take on the job she would not accept.

“Actually, Mr. MacLaren,” Maude said, “my...um, circumstances have changed since the barbecue in such a way that I would be willing to take the position you have offered.”

It was a moment before his mind caught up with the fact that she was accepting, not rejecting his offer. He was so surprised that a heartfelt thank You, God almost escaped his lips. Almost. It was bad enough he’d used the word beg. His pride was a bruised and battered thing now, after everything that had happened to him, but he clung to it all the same, as any Scotsman would. Stooping to begging grated on him, as necessary as it had been. It would have been disastrous if he’d actually thanked the Lord aloud, as if he’d been drowning and she’d been the one to throw him a rope. He had to remember that he would be her employer, and as such would need to get and keep the upper hand from the first.

“Thank you.” He was pleased to note that he sounded completely normal. “How soon would you—”

She held up a hand. “But I have conditions upon which my acceptance must be based, before we can be in total agreement, Mr. MacLaren.”

Now who sounded like a starchy-collared lawyer? “Conditions?” he echoed, suddenly wary.

“Yes, conditions. After the barbecue, a young girl presented herself here at the boardinghouse in the middle of the night, soaked to the skin, and—forgive me for being plainspoken, Mr. MacLaren—in an advanced stage of labor. She sought the father of the baby, a traveling merchant who often stays here on his rounds, but her timing was unfortunate. He had left Simpson Creek just that morning and has not returned since. That night, she gave birth to a baby girl, and all seemed to be well.”

He stared at her, trying to make sense of her story. Why was she telling him this?

“What does this have to do with me, Miss Harkey, and the job I have offered you?” he asked.

She turned very blue eyes on him. “Unfortunately the baby’s mother died of childbed fever, Mr. MacLaren, just a little while ago—leaving baby Hannah, for all intents and purposes, an orphan. I am resolved to keep her and raise her as my own, assuming the father doesn’t turn up and want to take responsibility, which I highly doubt will happen. My acceptance of the position you offer is contingent on being allowed to keep baby Hannah with me at your ranch—and to bring Juana Benavides, a young widow, with me to nurse the child. Senora Benavides’s baby was stillborn the same day she lost her husband, the same night that Hannah was born—you see, so she is able to feed the child.”

Now that he was beginning to grasp the enormity of what Maude Harkey was asking him, he marveled at her audacity. And it didn’t help just then that said infant chose this moment to start squalling from upstairs, loud enough to wake the dead.

“You’re expecting me to let you bring a wailing baby to the ranch house—and a Mexican woman to feed her?”

Those blue eyes narrowed. “Senora Benavides is as Texan as you are—actually more so, since as you told me you come from Scotland and her forebears lived here long before Anglo colonists came. Juana is a Tejana, Mr. MacLaren, not a Mexican.”

Her attempt to shame him—or at least that was what he thought had motivated her last words—sparked irritation in him. “You can call her anything you want, Miss Harkey—”

She went on as if he had not spoken. “And it’s not as if Juana would do nothing more than nurse the baby, Mr. MacLaren. She is quite willing to help your housekeeper with her duties, whenever she is not caring for little Hannah.”

“Miss Harkey, I did not come here prepared to hire two servants,” he informed her, determined to regain control of the situation. “Or to invite the presence of a screaming infant in my house. I’m looking for more peace and quiet, not less.”

Above them, the baby’s wailing suddenly ceased.