be heavenly, but right now a damp cloth would suffice.
He let out a flustered-sounding sigh. “This way.”
“Thank you,” she said, not meaning it. Well, she did mean it but didn’t want to be thankful for anything about him. He’d been rude and obstinate since she and Ruby had walked through the door. Why Anna had ever agreed to visit his ranch was beyond understanding, except that Anna had been keen on going west, on seeing new things, meeting new people. She’d done it, too. Just as she’d said she would.
Janette held her breath at the pang that stabbed her heart, knowing the rest of Anna’s dreams had all been cut short. As she had the past few weeks, she forced herself to think of Ruby and how wonderful it would be to take care of her. Love her. Just as Anna had wanted.
Silently, Gabe led her through the foyer that hosted the large beveled glass front door and then down a long wallpapered hallway. A few of the doors along the way were open, but she didn’t glance one way or the other. Her neck was on fire, and the burning was moving upward, into her ears and chin. Even her cheeks were starting to tingle.
He pushed open a door and pointed across the room. “Over there.”
Spying the room he’d indicated on the far side of the kitchen, she hurried but stopped at the table where Ruby sat. She already cherished her niece, had since the moment she’d been born. Kneeling down, Janette gestured toward a plate of cookies. “Did you have a cookie?”
Ruby nodded and grinned. “Two.”
Her heart skipped a beat every time she saw that smile and those miniature pearl-white teeth. “Good. You aren’t scared, are you?”
Ruby shook her head.
“Wonderful. There’s no need to be.” Patting the child’s knee, she said, “I’ll be right back.” She’d been telling Ruby there was no need to be scared since arriving in Texas and finding her at Mrs. Potter’s house. Telling herself, too. There was nothing to be afraid of. Absolutely nothing. Not even Gabe Callaway.
The kitchen was as big and as finely furnished as the rest of the house. So was the washroom. Besides a large bathing tub, it held a washing station complete with a porcelain washbasin, a rack holding clean towels and several other essentials, including a large mirror hanging on the wall.
A gasp escaped at the sight of her reflection, and she jolted forward, staring harder while unbuttoning her collar. Not only was her neck red, it was covered with blotches of white. The redness and swollen blotches spread beyond her neck. Upward, covering the bottom halves of her cheeks, her chin and... She leaned closer.
“What on earth?”
Her earlobes were twice the size they should be.
She unpinned her hat and set it aside. Using the dipper, she filled the basin and soaked a small towel. Wringing it out, she pressed the cloth to her neck. The cool dampness was heavenly, but it didn’t last. In fact, it seemed to increase the burning.
It had to help. Had to. She couldn’t walk around looking like this.
She dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and pressed it to her neck a second time.
Once again the relief was short-lived, and a touch of panic raced over her as she moved the cloth around her neck, pressing it against each section.
“Here’s your bag.”
She turned at the thud of her bag landing on a chair just inside the door.
Gabe stood in the doorway, frowning. “You might want to get rid of that lace.”
“I’ve worn this dress many times.” She had. It was one of her favorites. The fitted waist-length jacket was the reason, as well as the yards of delicate lace that encircled the collar and trimmed the hem. Pulling the cloth away in order to dip it in the water again, she stated, “The lace has never bothered me before.”
The room had seemed large, until he stepped into it. Her heart drummed against her breastbone, and she took a step back as he came closer.
“Hold still, I just want to look at that.”
Considering his size and harsh attitude, his touch was gentle as he used one finger and thumb to grasp her chin. He tilted her head one way, then the other and then upward while using his other hand to pull aside the lace collar of her dress as he examined her neck. His expression softened as his examination continued, which made her gulp at how concerned he appeared to be.
“I’ve never—”
“How’d you get here again?” he interrupted.
“I told you. We took a stagecoach from—”
“Once the stage dropped you off.”
“One of your hired hands picked us up.” Telling herself not to think about him, his closeness, his touch, she kept her eyes averted as he continued to examine her neck. The ceiling was high and painted white, as were the walls. It was a fine house. But it wasn’t holding her attention. He was pushing at her chin again, making her twist her neck one way and then the other.
“I probably wasn’t listening real close,” he said. “Which hired hand?”
She should remember the man’s name, but at the moment it eluded her. “I don’t know. Why?”
“What was he driving?”
“A wagon full of hay,” she answered, tugging her collar back in place when he let it loose.
He released her chin and stepped back. “You ever have poison ivy before?”
She let out the breath that had gotten stuck in her lungs. “Poi—No, never.”
“You do now.”
“That’s impossible.” She hurried back to the mirror and examined her neck more thoroughly. It was as red as before, worse maybe, as were the raised white blotches.
“Do you know what it looks like?”
“No,” she admitted while dipping the cloth in the water again, “but I wasn’t near any plants.” Pressing the cool cloth against her neck, she continued, “We were on the stage for nearly a week.”
“It grows wild around here, especially down by Beaver Creek. That’s where Dusty was cutting hay today,” he said.
That’s right. Dusty. Dusty Martin had been the man driving the wagon. “I didn’t touch the hay,” she said. “I sat on the seat with Ruby on my lap.”
“Don’t need to touch it.” He pointed toward the tub. “You need to get out of that dress and take a bath. Scrub with soap and water. Rosalie will bring you some baking soda and vinegar.”
An odd tingling started in her lips, and she tested the numbing sensation by nibbling on the bottom one before asking, “What for?”
“To put on your neck. The itching won’t stop until you do. And from the looks of your face, you best hurry.” He turned about and left the room, addressing the housekeeper as he walked over the
