This time she caught a hint of mischief flickering in her pa’s blue eyes. Good heavens, surely he didn’t intend to steal another horse? Surely he realized he was playing a dangerous game by passing himself off as a chuck cook while he was rustling horses.
“Reckon the weather will slow him—” Her pa broke off, scowling and sniffing the air. “What in tarnation’s on fire?”
She drew in the smell of burnt sugar and scorched crust at the same time Hubert muttered a curse and hobbled toward the kitchen.
“My pie!” she said as black smoke billowed into the hall.
Chapter 4
Reid smelled the smoke before he saw the black cloud stringing across the dusky snow sky. He drew in a deep breath. Not wood smoke. No, this smelled sweet, like burned sugar.
What the hell?
A thousand improbable things went through his mind as he trudged toward the house. He caught sight of Ellie standing in the open door, fanning a towel and looking ready to cry. Smoke escaped the back door in puffs.
“What the hell happened?” Reid asked as he stomped to her, giving her a head-to-toe perusal that had her flushing red. “You start a grease fire?”
“No, I didn’t do any such thing,” she said and coughed.
He peered past her into the hall and noted the worst of the smoke had dissipated. All she was doing now was letting frigid air inside, but she seemed to be unaware.
He moved her back into the house and yanked the door shut. His eyes immediately watered from the lingering smoke.
“What was burning?” he asked.
Her narrow shoulders slumped. “My pie, I fear.”
That didn’t say much about her culinary talents. Just what had Mrs. Leach been thinking to recommend Ellie Jo Cade for the job of housekeeper and cook?
“Where’s Hubert?” he asked, his patience shot to hell now.
Ellie pointed a shaky finger into the kitchen. “He’s in there with my—with Mr. Moss.”
He headed straight there, hoping he’d get answers out of one of them. “Well?” he asked the two older men standing before the stove.
“It appears that the damper was closed, which prevented the smoke from escaping.” Hubert glanced down at the soot on his waistcoat and grimaced. “If I’m not needed, sir—”
Reid excused the fussy butler with a nod and turned to Moss, well aware Miss Cade had ventured into the kitchen at last. “You got anything to add?”
Moss stroked his cottony beard and snorted. “Your new cook smoked the place up but nothing’s burnt ’cept what was in the oven. Appears to have been a pie of sorts.”
“It was a molasses pie,” she said. “My grandmother taught me how to make it.”
“Did she teach you to open the damper on the cook stove before you fired it up?” Moss asked in a belligerent tone that nudged Reid to jump to Miss Cade’s defense.
But before he could utter a word, she jutted her chin out and said, “Of course she did.”
Moss slid her a steely-eyed look that brought fresh color to her face. “If what you claim is true, then why the hell was the damper closed?”
“It was open,” she said, squaring off against the old chuck cook as if she’d done so many times before. “If the damper had been closed, the kitchen would have filled with smoke in a matter of minutes.”
“Maybe you shut it right before I hauled supper in for you,” Moss said.
Ellie reeled back, a look of abject hurt clouding her big eyes and slamming Reid back to the here and now. Somebody had closed that damper. Hubert would’ve needed a chair or ladder to reach it. But then so would Moss. And, hell, the ranch cook was just doing a good turn by bringing a pail of stew up for supper.
That left Ellie Jo Cade. She was the stranger, and the most likely one to have caused this stir.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked Moss, her voice suddenly small and trembling.
Moss’s bushy white eyebrows slammed together. “Reckon you’d best look in a mirror and ask that question.” He turned to Reid. “If you was smart, you’d haul this gal back to Maverick before she burns the house down.”
“How dare you suggest such a thing,” Ellie said.
Moss didn’t even acknowledge her with a look. “I can throw a meal on the table any time, boss. You holler if you need me.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Reid said.
That earned him a curt nod from the old ranch cook before he turned and tramped down the hall. Cold gusted in, then the door slammed shut and silence roared in the kitchen.
Reid rubbed his forehead where a headache pounded. First Kincaid steals his stallion, and now Miss Cade sets fire to the kitchen. Or did she?
He crossed his arms over his chest and faced Miss Ellie Jo Cade. “You got anything more to say?”
“I didn’t close the damper.” She looked Reid square in the eyes and he saw the truth there as plain as day. “Please, give me another chance.”
He fully intended to, because there was no way in hell he was hauling Mrs. Leach’s friend back to Maverick in this weather. Never mind the chances of him finding a decent cook in town on short notice.
She looked disheveled, yet oddly alluring. But it was those eyes sparking with anger that made him pause.
“Who do you think closed it then? Moss or Hubert?”
The wiry butler sputtered to attention. “Not I, sir.”
“I think Mr. Moss closed it when he left the pail of stew on the stove,” she said, and seemed close to stricken by the very idea of him committing the deed.
“Why would he do that, Miss Cade?”
Her chin came up. “It’s clear he doesn’t want me on the ranch.”
He had a feeling she was right, but there was more to it than jealousy. When they were arguing, he’d noted a familiarity between them. He sensed their quarrel went way back.
It was no secret that Mrs. Leach and Moss had been bed-partners at one time. Reid suspected that romance began while she was still in the business of pleasuring men for a living. But how did Miss Cade tie in with those two old-timers?
“What’s to say you didn’t close the damper to make Moss look bad?” he asked.
“I daresay that’s because it was open then.” Hubert wiped most of the soot off his waistcoat and grimaced.
“How long have you known Gabby Moss?”
