Hope smiled broadly.
Clint finished loading the wagon and then dug under the bench for the blanket that he kept there. He laid it behind the seat and then put both the girls on top of it. His gaze moved to the house. What was taking her so long? Clint moved the bags and the boxes of purchases he’d made while in town to form a line to block the girls in between the bags and the back of the seat.
Then, Clint untied his horse from the back of the wagon and swung into the saddle. Laura Lee had said she was capable of driving the wagon to the ranch. He leaned against the saddle horn and waited.
His gaze moved to the boardinghouse. So far, everything was going well. Laura seemed to be the perfect nanny for Grace, and he could finally get back to work with no worries about Grace’s care or his housekeeper leaving.
A few hours later, Clint topped the hill that looked down on his home. For a brief moment, he stopped and enjoyed the view. The house was about a quarter mile from the river that ran across his property. The river supplied water for the fields, livestock and the family. A well had been built a few years earlier, closer to the house so that the women didn’t have to go to the river every day.
Large fruit trees stood in the orchard at the back of the house. He grinned as his gaze moved to the front yard where he’d rigged up a small swing in the oak tree for Grace.
Laura’s soft, stern voice drew his attention. “Grace, you need to sit down. We’re not quite there yet.”
With a frown, Grace did as she was told. She was two and a handful. After being cooped up in the wagon all morning, Grace was ready to get out and play. Hope lay curled in a ball beside her, sound asleep.
He led the way down the hill and home. A few minutes later, Laura pulled the wagon up in front of his ranch home. Clint had come to realize that unlike Grace, Laura wasn’t a big talker. She’d spoken softly to the girls during the trip and was very observant of her surroundings but didn’t force a conversation between them.
What did the schoolteacher think of his home? He turned to look at her. She stared at the house but didn’t say anything. Grace stood once more and began babbling with excitement.
Her gaze broke from the house. “Hold on, Grace. I know you want out of the wagon.” She looked down at Hope.
Clint tried to envision his home from her perspective. The house was built in the typical farmhouse style. Long with windows positioned to catch the most sunlight during the day. He and his hired man, Richard, had whitewashed it a few weeks ago, so it looked fresh and clean.
The vegetable garden was off to the right, the barn and chicken coop to the left. A wide front porch offered shade in the afternoons along with the tall apple tree that grew a few yards away.
He expected that most women would be gushing and telling him what a beautiful home he had, but not Mrs. Lee. She simply tended to the little girls. Clint frowned. What did it matter what she thought? Laura Lee would only be here a few weeks, and then she’d be returning to her schoolhouse and town. Clint told himself it didn’t matter, but for some odd reason, it did.
He leaped from his horse and tied it to the rail in front of the porch. Then he hurried to the wagon where he kissed the top of Grace’s head before continuing around the wagon to help Laura down. “I hope you are happy here during your stay.” Clint took her hand in his to help her down. The warmth and softness sent a spark of awareness up his arm.
Once her feet were securely on the ground, Laura gently pulled her hand from his. “I’m sure I will be.” She turned to the wagon.
Grace jabbered excitedly as she waited for him to lift her out. Her impatience pulled Clint from the wonder of Laura’s eyes and touch. He scooped his sweet daughter up and set her on the ground. She toddled toward the house, babbling happily.
Laura gently woke Hope and then helped her from the wagon. She hugged the little girl close and then sat her on the ground. A smile brightened Laura’s face as she watched the little girl waddle after her new friend.
Grace stopped and waited for Hope. She took Hope’s small hand in her own and then continued to the porch. Neither adult understood a word Grace said, but Hope nodded sleepily with a grin.
Laura turned to him. “They are so sweet together.”
Clint gathered several of the bags from the wagon and followed the girls. His mind was on the connection he’d briefly felt while holding Laura’s hand. Had she felt it, too? If she had, she hadn’t shown it. Was he making too much of it? He hadn’t felt that kind of connection since his wife. Clint swallowed hard.
He would ignore the feeling. His heart couldn’t take another breaking like the one he’d felt the day Grace’s mother had died. Clint silently vowed never to feel such pain again. Never.
* * *
Laura waited until Clint continued to the house. She released the pent-up breath in her lungs. Had he felt the electrical current between them? Or was she just being hypersensitive? So much had happened since the previous morning, Laura didn’t know what to think of this newfound feeling.
She turned at the sound of Grace’s excited squeal. “MumMum!”
A middle-aged woman with red hair and sparkling green eyes stepped through the front door. She smiled sweetly at Grace, who had grabbed her skirt and was hugging her legs. “Well, hello, wee one.” She leaned over to hug the child close.
Hope stood beside Grace looking confused. She glanced back at Laura until Grace grabbed her hand and jerked her forward.
Grace babbled up at the redheaded woman and pointed at Hope.
She nodded. “I see. We have another wee one underfoot.” A sprig of red hair mixed with gray at her temples escaped the thick braid that ran down her back. Her sharp green gaze seemed to pierce Clint Shepard.
Laura straightened her shoulders, scooped up two of her bags and walked to the porch. She sat her luggage down on the edge of the wood.
Before she could introduce herself and Hope, Clint said, “Mrs. Murphy, this is Laura Lee. She’s Grace’s new nanny.”
Clint walked back to the wagon.
Mrs. Murphy’s gaze moved over her, studying her, evaluating her. “Is the wee one yours?” She looked down at Hope, who had plopped down on the porch and was now trying to pick up a small insect.
Laura shook her head. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Murphy. Please feel free to call me Laura.”
“Mrs. Lee, if the wee one isn’t yours, whose is she?” Confusion pulled at the skin between Mrs. Murphy’s eyes.
Laura was very aware that Mrs. Murphy wasn’t pleased with Clint’s choice of nanny. The sharpness in her tone and the way her gaze moved over Laura as if evaluating her spoke volumes of her displeasure. What had the older woman expected?
“Mrs. Murphy, don’t you think that is a bit personal?” Clint asked, walking back to them. He carried another bag and what appeared to be a box of kitchen supplies.
She huffed.
