walked the few steps into the kitchen, able to hear their low murmurs and catch a few words. She appreciated that they were keeping their voices down so as not to wake the baby.
Jake had told her earlier that Bram had gone out today with a group of ranchers, all riding fence to check on their cattle. In the last two weeks, the Circle R had lost four prime steers to a rustler. Jake had mentioned that a neighboring spread, the Rocking H, and the nearby Triple B ranch had also lost some prime beef. The Rocking H belonged to Sheriff Holt’s brother, Riley, but Emma couldn’t remember the name of the other owner. She knew they were both friends of the Ross family.
“We found an old camp and three ash piles.” Bram’s voice was scratchy with fatigue. “Riley and I figure it’s from the fire they used to heat their own brands and change ours.”
“A running iron?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re modifying our brand, Holt’s, the Baldwins.”
“Yeah, and right now we don’t know what mark they’re using. Could be a bar, a circle. We just don’t know.”
“You got a brand book?” Jake asked.
“The last one issued by the livestock association and a copy of The Prairie Caller for double-checkin’. There may be some new brands in the paper’s latest edition.”
Emma knew The Prairie Caller was the newspaper in Whirlwind. The newspaper in which Jake had run an ad hoping to get a family for Molly.
“At least the book will show us what’s legitimate,” Jake said. “Maybe help us figure out the brands that aren’t.”
The men’s voices dropped so low that Emma couldn’t hear any more. She uncovered the plate of corn bread and ham she’d put aside for Bram. After removing a cloth from the earthen pitcher of buttermilk, she filled a real glass, then carried it with the plate to the dining-room table. She set down the food, glancing toward the brothers.
Jake’s gaze flickered over her, his jaw locking, his eyes flashing. Apprehension had her going still. Why was he looking at her like that? What were they talking about?
“Well?” Bram leveled a look at his brother.
Jake turned away and started for the stairs. Over his shoulder, he said, “Good night, Miz York.”
“Good night.”
Bram gave a derisive snort and came to the table. Emma looked from him to Jake, who was already halfway up the stairs. What was going on?
Bram slid into his chair. “This looks really good, ma’am. You’re a good cook.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ross.”
“You’d better call me Bram.” His blue eyes twinkled. “You’ll talk yourself dizzy calling all three of us Mr. Ross.”
“All right.” She turned for the kitchen. “I’ll be in here, finishing up. If you need anything, let me know.”
He nodded, already digging in. Giving one last look to make sure Molly still slept, Emma went back into the kitchen and pumped water into the deep sink. Back in Topeka, her mother’s house had boasted an indoor pump and a bathing tub. Emma had been pleasantly surprised to find those conveniences here, too. There was even an oblong bathing tub in her room. Jake Ross and his family must do very well with their ranch.
She washed the bread pans, the griddle, the egg beater and the good china Georgia said had been her mother’s, setting everything on the wide counter to the side to hand-dry when she finished rinsing.
As she worked, her mind went again to the wagon accident. Once they’d arrived home, Jake had gotten her and Molly into the house. His jaw had been set, his features cold and intimidating, but he hadn’t yelled or punched or threatened the way Emma’s stepfather did when he was angry. He had simply said, in a voice vibrating with quiet fury, that he was going back for that busted wheel then would be in the barn fixing it.
Georgia had told her a ranch hand named Waylon was the one who had neglected to fix the wheel when Jake had told him to do so, and he’d been fired. There were enough dangers on a ranch without making their own by being remiss.
“That hit the spot, Miz York,” Bram said as he walked into the kitchen.
Jerked out of her thoughts, she smiled over her shoulder at him. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“The baby’s sleeping real good. I just checked.”
“Thank you.” She turned and took his plate, their fingers brushing. Emma thought back to when her fingers had touched Jake’s yesterday morning at breakfast. His touch had sent heat streaking up her arm and into other places of her body. But she felt nothing like that at his brother’s touch.
Bram moved to her other side, snagging a clean dish towel from the rack on the wall beside the sink. “I’ll help you dry.”
“Oh, no! That’s not—”
“Do I smell too much like dirt and cattle?”
He did smell of those things, but Emma didn’t find it unpleasant. She was more worried that someone—Jake—might think she wasn’t doing her job if everyone kept helping her all the time. With the back of her hand, she pushed her eyeglasses up. “You look worn out.”
“No offense, but so do you. If we work together, we can both turn in sooner.”
“Wouldn’t you rather eat the last of the apple pie?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “I thought I might sneak that upstairs.”
She laughed as he picked up the skillet and began drying. He glanced over at her. “Jake told me there was a wagon accident today.”
She tensed, wondering if his brother had told him why they’d been in the wagon to start with. It was bad enough that Jake knew she wasn’t wearing a corset; she would be mortified if he’d told his brother about the theft.
But the other man acted as if he had no idea about her missing undergarment. “It’s good the baby’s okay, but Jake said you got banged up a bit.”
“Just a scrape or two.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”
“Me, too.”
“A busted wheel can be dangerous. Scary.”
“Yes. And loud.” She smiled at him, relieved to think that Jake had told his brother only about the wagon accident.
“Did he see anyone in town besides Hoot—”
He broke off abruptly and her gaze swung to his. So, he knew Jake had asked the newspaper man, Mr. Eckert, about the ad regarding Molly.
Bram chewed the inside of his cheek, looking as if he wished he hadn’t said that. After a long pause, he continued, “Did he talk to anyone named Quentin?”
“No, only the
