it was past midnight and she stood in the kitchen over the stove. Soft amber light from the lone kerosene lamp behind her pooled on the floor. Molly had been fussy since supper and nothing Emma did had helped. She had finally decided the little girl’s stomach hurt and come to the kitchen to make the onion tea that her mother had sworn was the best remedy for upset tummies or a mixed-up sleeping schedule.
As she added another pinch of finely chopped onion to the heating water, Emma couldn’t help recalling the look on Jake Ross’s face this morning when he’d picked up her sister. It hadn’t been disgust or blatant dislike, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it had been. Did he dislike the baby? Everyone in his family had given him odd looks, but she hadn’t been able to decipher those, either.
Had she made a mistake by choosing him, by coming here? The rest of his family seemed to like the little girl just fine, but Emma wouldn’t leave her sister in a household where she wasn’t welcome by everyone. Still, Emma had no money to take her sister and go farther west. Until she did, she would have to stay here and try to help the Ross family become attached to Molly.
When the onion-and-water mixture began to boil, Emma turned to take a folded cloth from the long counter to her right. And gasped. Jake Ross stood in the doorway, wrapped in shadows. In the shift of gray light, she could see he was shirtless. His denims were unbuttoned and he held a gun. How long had he been standing there?
“Shh.” He put a finger to his lips, lamplight slanting across the strong angle of his jaw. “I heard something outside.”
She swallowed hard, nodding to let him know she’d keep quiet.
“I’m going to check. Don’t go anywhere.”
She couldn’t have moved, anyway. Her legs felt like water. He walked past her and silently opened the door on the opposite wall that led outside.
Emma’s heart thundered. He’d startled her, but that wasn’t why her pulse spiked. Gracious, the man was…impressive. His shoulders and chest were hard, solid muscle, only a shade lighter than his face and arms, making it obvious that he worked outside frequently without a shirt. Dark hair on his chest narrowed to a thin line below his navel.
As he went out the door, Emma stared. She couldn’t help it. She’d never seen a man’s bare back. Or bare chest. Or bare anything. One time, she’d seen her stepfather in shirtsleeves, but she’d never laid eyes on a half-naked man.
A funny feeling clenched her stomach. He looked so huge. Intimidating.
She wasn’t sure how long she waited. Realizing she was without her spectacles, Emma slipped them from the pocket of her wrapper and slid them on. Very carefully so as not to make any noise, she reached again for the cloth and lifted the boiling pot from the stove, setting it on the long counter.
After several minutes, the kitchen door opened and Jake moved back inside. He shook his head as he quietly closed the door. “Someone’s been out there, but they’re long gone. Found footprints, but no other sign.”
Though she cautioned herself not to jump to conclusions, Emma’s shoulders tensed up. There was no reason to think that whoever had been out there had been looking for her, but she couldn’t help it. There was no doubt her stepfather would’ve already assigned one of his men, probably Sharpton, to start searching for her and Molly. Orson wouldn’t risk hiring a reputable detective agency like the Pinkertons because he’d be afraid Emma would tell the lawmen about his violent behavior. And she would, if she had the chance. No, Orson had to be discreet and that meant sending one of his own men to find her and the baby.
She’d been so careful. He couldn’t have found them yet. Please, not yet.
“What do you think they wanted?” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake still at the outside door, his gaze riveted on her. Her hair. Could he tell that this nut-brown wasn’t her natural color? That it was a dye made from walnut leaves and husks?
It hit her then that her hair was down, plaited into a braid that lay over her shoulder and against her breast. That all she had on was her night rail and wrapper. That all he had on were…denims. His trousers were unbuttoned enough that she could tell the skin below his waistband was lighter than his chest, like the color of an acorn.
The night pulsed around them and Emma realized she was staring, too. She wrapped her arms around her waist. A muscle clenched in Jake’s jaw and he jerkily barred the door then moved past her, heading toward the dining room. The scent of man and soap and the outdoors teased her.
“There’s no telling what they wanted.” He turned in the doorway. “All the livestock we put up in the barn were there and I didn’t hear any cattle bawling like they would be if someone had stirred them up.”
She heard his words, tried to pay attention to what he said. But what she was thinking was what beautiful eyes he had and how, in the softer light, his mouth didn’t seem harsh at all.
“Could’ve just been someone passing through, but I doubt it,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take another look in the morning when it’s light out.”
She nodded, fighting the urge to bite her nails. There was a fluttery sensation in her stomach that she didn’t understand. All because of him? She forced herself to look away from his chest, but she could feel his gaze traveling slowly down her body from her breasts to her bare toes peeking out from under her nightdress.
He cleared his throat. “What are you doing up? Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes. I’m making onion tea.” She eagerly latched on to the question. “The baby’s been fussy and I think she has a stomachache. My mother used to make onion tea for that.”
At the mention of her mother, unexpected tears burned Emma’s throat and she swallowed hard.
Something unreadable and raw flared in Jake’s dark eyes and she was swept with the sudden ridiculous urge to go to him.
He seemed to sense her upset or perhaps he could see it on her face. “You’re gonna give a baby tea made from an onion?”
The look of distaste on his face had her smiling. “I’ll add sugar. She’ll think it tastes good.”
“Will it really settle her stomach?”
She nodded. “Sometimes it’s also used to help babies with their sleeping schedule so they aren’t awake while everyone else is trying to sleep.”
“Sounds like you know your stuff.” He backed up a step. “No one’s out there so you don’t need to worry. But, if you need to use the privy in the middle of the night, you should take the rifle. It’s—”
“Behind the door, I know.” She smiled in an effort to reassure him, to get him to leave.
But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. “Yeah, behind the door,” he repeated in a raspy voice.
Something passed between them, something Emma had never felt for a man and it scared her. Hands shaking, she turned away and reached above the counter for a cup sitting on the shelf.
“Good night, then.”
“Good night.” She felt him leave, listened hard for the near-silent pad of his feet across the floor of the front room, then the slight creak of the stairs as he went up.
