like everything else in her future, it was all gone. Simply because she couldn’t mind her own business.
Josh Ingalls would fire her. She was sure of it. And why shouldn’t he? After the way she’d spoken to him, the way she’d taken it upon herself to discipline his children.
It was none of her business. None at all.
With a heavy sigh, Annie headed toward the house. As she passed the garden, three little faces peeked out through the cornstalks.
“You’re gonna get it,” Drew predicted grimly.
“Get it good,” Ginny agreed solemnly.
Cassie nodded wisely.
Annie drew in a breath, shaking off the fear humming in her veins. “I’m sure your father simply wants to discuss something with me.”
The three children shared a skeptical look and shook their heads gravely.
Annie squared her shoulders and marched on toward the house.
“Wait!” Ginny ran after her and tugged her sleeve. “Are you going to tell Papa what we did? With the slingshot?”
Gazing down at the three frightened faces, Annie still couldn’t bring herself to tell their papa what they’d done.
“What happened is between us,” she told the children. “It’s our business. No one else’s.”
“That means you ain’t gonna tell?” Drew asked.
Annie smiled. “That’s exactly what it means.”
His eyes widened. “Truly? You ain’t gonna tell on us?”
“Truly,” Annie said.
Instead of a thank-you, or even a smile, Drew stuck out his tongue at her. Ginny grabbed little Cassie’s hand and they all ran away.
For a moment, Annie considered running after them. Escape. It certainly seemed preferable to what lay ahead of her at Mr. Ingalls’s house.
Annie trudged on. The house came into view. She imagined Josh Ingalls inside at this very moment, telling his foreman to find someone else to tend the gardens.
Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that Josh Ingalls was also looking for a nanny.
Her footsteps slowed as her mind spun. Annie had seen the last nanny leave two days ago. What was it Josh had said in the meadow just now? Something about how much he paid his nanny?
Money. Annie’s heart beat faster. She needed money for her family. If a nanny earned more than a farm worker, maybe she could—
At the rain barrel at the corner of the cookhouse, Annie pushed her straw hat off, letting it dangle against her back, and washed her face and hands. She did her best to brush the dust and dirt from her clothes.
Gracious, she hardly looked fit to enter such a fine home, especially now when she desperately needed to make a good impression. Now, with this great idea bubbling in her mind.
Annie hurried up the back steps. A woman blocked the door—tall, thin, with her dark hair streaked with gray and drawn back in a severe bun. She wore a black dress and a frown.
Mrs. Flanders, surely. Annie had never met the woman, but the other field workers she’d talked to here at the Ingalls farm had spoken of her. She ran the house.
“Miss Martin?” she asked, looking her up and down.
Annie managed a nod, feeling all the more out of place in her plain clothing.
“Follow me,” Mrs. Flanders instructed.
Trailing her through the house, Annie found her heart thumping in her chest. Thick carpets with intricate designs lay on the floors. Graceful furniture with carved arms and legs filled the rooms, along with framed paintings, delicate lanterns and figurines. Everything was elegant and pristine.
Except for Annie. She glanced behind her, fearful she’d tracked dirt on the floor.
At the end of a long hallway, Mrs. Flanders motioned for her to stop, stuck her head inside double doors, then turned to Annie once more.
“You may go in,” she said, her lips curling downward in a disapproving scowl. “Don’t touch anything.”
Anger sparked in Annie as the woman disappeared down the hall. Certainly, her clothing was soiled. But that was because she’d been working in the garden, doing the job she was hired to do. And, yes, she was a plain and simple young woman. But that made her no less a good person. Regardless of how the housekeeper looked down on her.
Regardless of what the gossips said.
“Miss Martin?” Josh Ingalls’s voice boomed from inside the room.
Annie’s shoulders straightened. The man could fire her if he chose. But she wouldn’t run away like a whipped dog. She’d have the satisfaction of speaking her mind. And maybe, just maybe, she’d come away with a better job.
Annie stepped into the room. Dark carpets covered the floor. Leather-bound books filled one wall. A moose head with antlers hung above the fireplace. A gigantic desk dominated the center of the room. Josh Ingalls sat behind it.
“Come in,” he said impatiently, shuffling papers on the desk.
He’d taken off his hat, and Annie saw that his hair was thick and dark, the same color as the children’s. For once, it seemed, the rumors were true. Josh Ingalls was a handsome man, with a strong jaw, straight nose and clear brown eyes. He looked even bigger seated behind his desk than he had atop his horse.
His white shirt was open at the collar, revealing a slice of deeply tanned skin—like his face—and black, curling chest hair. Even after being in the fields all morning, he looked clean and crisp.
Annie glanced down at her fingernails, then curled her hands behind her.
He made a spinning motion with his hand, urging her closer to his desk as he opened drawers, searching for something.
“When I ask a question, Miss Martin, I expect an answer. A complete answer, not simply what you choose to tell me,” Josh said. “So I’ll ask one last time. What went on out there with those children?”
“Your children, do you mean?” she asked, and stopped in front of his desk.
His gaze came up and he ceased rifling through the drawers. “Yes. My…children.”
“I don’t know what type of nanny you’re used to, Mr. Ingalls, but when I see a situation that needs addressing, I handle it. That’s what happened with your children,” Annie told him. “If I overstepped my boundaries, I apologize. But I see no need for you to concern yourself further. Surely you have more important matters to attend to.”
He blinked at her, taken aback by what she’d said. Apparently, Josh Ingalls wasn’t used to being spoken to in that manner. Annie held her breath.
He
