man, who lives in Drury Lane? Oh, yes, I know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man. Yes, I know the muffin man who lives in Drury Lane.”
The men all clapped as she finished her little tune, which had been sung with a pitch-perfect cadence and a hint of an Irish accent that had put smiles on everyone’s faces.
She curtsied. “Thank you. To answer your question, they are called muffins, and are my sister’s favorite. A woman in Pennsylvania taught me how to make them several years ago.”
It couldn’t have been that many years ago. She wasn’t that old. That thought brought upon another and Steve asked, “Pennsylvania? I thought you lived in Ohio.”
“We did,” she answered. “But we also lived in Pennsylvania.”
“Well you can make those Pennsylvania muffins any time you want,” Jess said.
Her giggle tickled something inside Steve. Or maybe it was the way she was smiling at Jess.
“They are called iron muffins because you grill them on top of the stove, like flapjacks,” she said.
“We all like flapjacks,” Jess said. His gaze then settled on Walter. “When made right.”
“Perhaps I’ll make some for breakfast then,” she said while opening the door.
“Where are you going?” Steve asked.
“To get the clothes hanging on the line out back while you all finish eating.”
Steve glanced at the table that didn’t hold enough food to satisfy a ground squirrel. He would have told her that, but she’d already slipped out the door. He pushed his chair away from the table and grabbed his hat on the way out the door. However, once he found her at the clothesline, he had no idea why he’d followed.
“Did you need something, Mr. Putnam?” she asked while plucking off the pins with one hand and gathering the dried laundry with the other. “Was the meal not satisfactory?”
“The meal was fine.” Still trying to come up with a reason to have followed her, he asked, “When did you live in Pennsylvania?”
Without looking his way, she asked, “Why?”
“Because—because I like to know a bit about the people who work for me.” That was true. He usually interviewed any person he hired. Asked about their past, such as where they used to live.
“Actually, I lived in Pennsylvania several times. My father was a traveling man. Ohio just happened to be where he died.”
“How? When?”
“Last winter. He was run over by an out-of-control stage.”
The sadness of her tone had him wanting to touch her, to comfort her in some way. He settled for saying, “I’m sorry.”
Sincerity filled her eyes as she said, “Thank you, but you didn’t have anything to do with it.” She dropped the handful of clothes into the basket near her feet. “However, this seems like the perfect time to mention something.”
A shiver rippled over his shoulders. “What?”
“Rex.” She started taking more clothes off the line. “I’m wondering if he should see the doctor again. When I changed his bandage today, there was still blood in it. I understand it’s a deep wound, but would have thought it should be done bleeding by now.”
Guilt shot up inside him. Once again he hadn’t checked on Rex upon entering the house. That wasn’t like him. He’d always prided himself on taking care of the men in his employ. “I’ll send one of the men to town.”
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