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DECEMBER 5, 1891
If for no better reason than to satisfy her own curiosity to see the Hartmann Ranch, Clara accepted Mrs. Hartmann’s invitation to visit. So far, she’d only heard about their grand experiment to open a guest ranch for eastern visitors. Mrs. Reynolds’ descriptions of the house had intrigued her. As to the work she described, well, Clara felt completely unqualified to offer advice on decorating. Still, it could be fun, so she’d told Mrs. Hartmann she’d come and see what was involved.
As soon as Mrs. Hartmann had left the shop, Clara turned to Maddie and asked, “You’re certain you can spare me from the shop? This is a busy time of year.” Clara took off her gloves and lay them on the bookshop counter while studying her employer’s demeanor to assess her sincerity.
“Absolutely! What you would be doing for Mrs. Hartmann is important. I love that dear woman and you will too. Anyway, you won’t be there all day. You’ll be back in time for dinner with us.”
Besides employment, Mrs. Reynolds had been gracious to provide lodging in her home. Her employer’s requirements for applicants had been explicit, including advanced education and impeccable references. The letter of acceptance had delighted Clara, but the additional offer of lodging came as a welcome surprise. It had all seemed too good to be true, and the respectability of living under the same roof as the town’s physician left Clara’s mother little reason to object to her daughter’s request to leave her parents’ home. Of course, the fact that her father’s good friend was an attorney in town had also helped her win her case.
“And before you bring up the obvious issue of the need for transportation to the ranch, we’ve a perfect solution.” Mrs. Reynolds gave her a confident smile. “Lena has arranged for Mr. Kincaid to pick you up in the afternoon and bring you back home. You can work in the shop through the busiest portion of the day. Wednesdays are always slow because of the ladies’ church activities, so you might even spend an entire day. That should give you and Lena time to finish the room before Evan returns with Rebecca.” She folded her hands and gave Clara a look of supreme satisfaction, as though she’d just finished wrapping a gift complete with a ribbon to bind it. “Isn’t that perfect?”
Clara swallowed. She opened her mouth while her head sorted through a rapid succession of responses before closing it with her teeth pressing into her lower lip. A horrible image came to her of herself caught in a rabbit trap. But it was obvious that Mrs. Reynolds had meant the question as rhetorical.
“Now, didn’t you say you needed some illustrations to use as a reference?” Mrs. Reynolds started for the children’s section as though the issue was settled.
Clara imagined herself clawing at the rabbit cage when she said, “Mrs. Reynolds, I’m quite capable of driving myself to the ranch. If you would loan me the buggy. . .”
“Oh, I think not. Dr. Reynolds never knows when he might need to attend to a patient outside of town. The Hartmanns have one, and besides, it’s all arranged.”
“But Mr. Kincaid—”
“Mr. Kincaid is a fine man. Clara, you surely will not allow a silly difference of opinion to keep you from assisting Mrs. Hartmann. I would expect a more mature response from you.”
“But his dog . . . my Daisy.” Clara couldn’t bring herself to mention what offense his dog had committed. It was just too awful.
Mrs. Reynolds folded her arms at her waist and leveled a stern look of disappointment at Clara. “That can’t be the reason for your objection.” Her tone did not convey a question concerning her objection.
“Um . . .” She could see the rabbit cage being lowered into a burlap sack with her inside.
“Could I allow you to return from the ranch after dark? Dr. Reynolds would never approve. There are all manner of wild beasts and bad-mannered men that might accost you. No, I could not allow that risk to your person. Besides, Mr. Kincaid has already agreed.”
The string cinched tight on the burlap sack.
“I’m not sure I can agree to this arrangement, Mrs. Hartmann.” Graham lowered his fork, gravy dripping from the beef he’d just speared. “Miss Webster can scarcely bring herself to look me in the eye.” He leaned back in his chair. Considering what he knew of Miss Webster, he thought she’d not want any part of the ‘arrangement’ either. Maybe all he had to do was agree and let the young woman decline and appear as shallow as he knew her to be. He certainly had better things to do with his time. But how did he turn down a request by his employer’s wife?
“It should only be for two weeks or so. And Mr. Long already agreed to give you the time from your normal ranch chores to help us,” Mrs. Hartmann added.
Bart Long shrugged. “Sorry, old boy, couldn’t disappoint Mrs. Hartmann and say no.”
Graham knew when he’d been outmaneuvered. Leaning forward, he picked up his fork again. He should have known there was a hidden reason behind the dinner invitation. Normally, he’d be having his meal with the other ranch hands. But dinner in the main house with Mrs. Long’s cooking, he hadn’t been able to turn it down. Now, it looked like he’d be paying a mighty high price for roast beef and potatoes.
He sighed and shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Glad I can be of help.” A small lie for a small favor. If anyone would lay odds, he’d put down a wager of a month’s pay on the young lady’s refusal.