“If you have it,” the little girl answered politely.
“I do. I’ll be right back.” Rebecca went out to the well and pulled on a long rope. The evening before, she’d tied a mason jar filled with milk to one end of the rope and lowered it into the cold water below.
She returned a few minutes later to find both Grace and Seth munching on the muffins.
“These are very good.” Seth indicated the muffin in his hand and then sipped his coffee.
Rebecca smiled. “Thank you. I never think they taste as good as when Mother made them.” She poured the milk for Grace and set the glass down beside her.
“Thanks, Miss Rebecca.” She picked it up and gulped it down. “Oh, it’s so cold!”
“That’s because it just came out of the well.” Rebecca sat down and picked up one of the muffins. She bit into the sweetness and sighed. They were good, but like she’d said earlier, not as good as her mother’s. The brown sugar and oatmeal topping didn’t taste as sweet.
“May I have another one, Miss Rebecca?” Grace was already reaching toward the bowl.
“Of course you can.” Rebecca licked the sugary sweetness from her lips. She looked up to see Seth watching her. Tingling heat filled her face.
He pushed his chair back. “If you ladies will excuse me, I need to get to work.”
Rebecca followed him to the door. “Is there anything special you want me to do today?” she asked as he stepped out onto the porch.
“Just do what I’m paying you to do, and don’t expect anything more from me.” He stomped off around the house. Rebecca knew the barn was behind the house and figured he was going after his horse.
Grace came to stand beside her. “What did he mean by that?”
Rebecca shook her head. “I have no idea.” The man seemed as skittish as a mother deer with a new fawn, another good reason to stay away from him. She knew opening her heart to a man like him would only lead to heartbreak.
Chapter Six
The sound of the school bell had both Rebecca and Grace hurrying back inside. Grace to get her book and lunch pail, Rebecca to get the breakfast and the previous night’s dinner dishes washed. She’d noticed earlier that Seth had piled his dinner dishes into the new dishpan.
“See you after school, Miss Rebecca!” Grace yelled as she raced back out the front door, the sound of the slamming door a sure sign of her departure.
Rebecca grabbed the water bucket and walked out the kitchen door to the well. What had Seth meant by “don’t expect any more from me”? Did he think she’d expected him to give her this job? Surely not. He’d been the one to suggest it and had even seemed angry when he’d realized she’d been out seeking employment elsewhere. She carried the water to the stove to heat.
Then she made her way to the bedrooms. The guest room looked the same as when she’d left it the day before. Seth’s bed looked as if he’d wrestled a bear during the night. Rebecca stripped the sheets and quilts off it and then remade the bed.
Next she returned to the kitchen and poured the hot water into the dishpan. After the dishes were washed, Rebecca swept and mopped the kitchen floor. While it dried, she stepped outside and looked at the backyard. To the left someone had hung a clothesline between two boards and to the right an overgrown garden spot had been fenced off. At the back of the lot stood a big red barn.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?”
Rebecca turned toward the sound of the male voice. The speaker stood beside the corner of the house, under a large Cottonwood tree. He looked to be about her age. A hat covered his dark hair and hid his eyes. “Yes, it is.”
He pressed away from the tree and moved closer to her. “I haven’t seen you around here before.” His voice dripped of sweetness.
Unease warned her not to allow him to get too close. She took a step back.
The stranger bent down and plucked a piece of grass, he chewed the end of it. His gaze never left her.
“I’m new to Cottonwood Springs.” She walked backward toward the door. “If you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
He stood and started toward her again. “Aw, why don’t you stay outside for a bit? We could get to know each other.” A crooked-toothed grin inched across his face.
The hair on the back of Rebecca’s neck prickled. She continued walking backward. “I don’t even know your name, sir. Now if you will excuse me.” Rebecca turned and opened the door.
“Hello! Is anyone home?” The voice came from the other side of the house.
Rebecca looked to find a short man with a mustache and thinning light brown hair walking around the corner of the house. Where were these men coming from? Were they together? Panic crept up her spine. Rebecca’s head spun back to where the other stranger had been, but he was gone. Where had he gone?
She jerked her head back in the direction of the shorter man. He’d come a short distance in a fairly fast time. He extended his hand out as he walked toward her. “Miss Ramsey? I’m Reverend Griffin, the circuit-riding preacher for this area. I don’t believe we’ve met. I hope you don’t mind my stopping by this morning.”
She grabbed his hand within hers and pulled him inside. “I am so glad to see you. There was a man here. He frightened me,” Rebecca explained once they were both within the kitchen.
“What man?” Reverend Griffin looked back out the door.
“I don’t know who he was. He didn’t give me his name, but everything about him made me nervous.” Rebecca placed her hand over her pounding heart.
“I’ll go see if he’s still hanging around.” Reverend Griffin barged out the door like a mama bear after her wayward cub. The look in his eye said he was in a no-nonsense sort of mood.
Rebecca stood up and poured herself and the reverend cups of coffee. She waited at the table for him to return. Sipping the rich beverage, Rebecca allowed her mind to go over the events of the past few minutes. Maybe she had overreacted. By the time the preacher returned, her heart rate had slowed its terrified rhythm and her hands had ceased shaking.
The reverend stopped in the open doorway. “I’m sorry, Miss Ramsey. He’s gone.”
“Please come in and sit down, Reverend. I’m glad he’s gone.” She took a drink of her coffee and then continued, “I might have been a bit excessive in my reaction to him.”
He entered the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. “Never underestimate your first gut reaction to a person, Miss Ramsey. It’s better to be cautious than to be sorry.” He picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. “You make very good coffee, young lady.”
“Thank you. Would you like a muffin?” She took the cloth off the basket of muffins she’d made that morning.
He waved a hand. “No, thank
