Page 22 of Montana Groom of Convenience
Sawyer had still not moved.
“Let’s take some of these things out to the woodshed.” She gathered up a bundle of old clothes and stepped past Sawyer, making her way to the small building at the side of the house. She didn’t bother looking to see what he did. The man had agreed to marry her. That was all she expected of him. But she was mildly pleased when he followed, his arms holding the rest of the clothing.
He traipsed on her heels into the shed. She looked about. “If I put shelves along the top of the wall, I can store all this stuff on them.” She lowered her armload to the nearby bench.
Sawyer did the same.
She headed for the door, intent on getting to the barn. Her skirts tangled around her ankles. The first thing she would do was trade these cumbersome skirts for her customary trousers. She’d only worn a dress to town because of some vague hope she would find a man willing to wed her.
A smile tugged at her mouth. It hadn’t been so much hope that she’d find a man that desperate. Truth be told, she would have married almost anyone to save the ranch even if she’d had to drag him from the gutter. She shuddered as a couple of men came to mind. Thankfully, she had found a man in Miss Daisy’s Eatery rather than the gutter.
Sawyer followed on her heels. “I’ll help you.”
“I can do it. But got something to attend to first.” She hurried to her room and closed the door firmly after her. The pesky buttons on the bodice of her dress took forever to undo but she’d learned the folly of hurrying. It took even more time to sew buttons back on. Sheslipped the dress and petticoats off and donned her baggy shirt and fitted trousers, stuck her feet into her pair of well-worn cowboy boots, and returned to the main room.
Jill sat on a chair opposite Father, giving him solemn study. She turned as Carly left her room. Carly knew she tried to hide any expression—having learned it from an expert—but her eyes rounded. Her mouth gaped, and then she blinked and turned deadpan.
Carly didn’t care what Sawyer thought of her attire and yet she looked in his direction. Would he see the warning in her eyes to keep his opinion to himself?
“Lassie.” Father sighed heavily. “Is it too much to hope ye’d be content to be the woman of the house?”
Carly snorted, her attention still directed toward Sawyer. Would he be as disapproving as Father? He might as well learn right now that she didn’t intend to be the sort of woman Father meant.
Sawyer’s gazeran down the length of the woman he’d married. Brown trousers with worn creases informed him she made a habit of dressing like this. He tried to decide what he thought about it and realized he didn’t have an opinion. Why should he? Who she was and what she did had little importance to him. He’d agreed to do the ranch work in return for a home for Jill. He expected nothing more, nothing less, from either of them.
Jill looked at him. Something about her expressionsent tension up his spine. What was his little sister scheming now?
“I’m going to make shelves.” Carly marched past him, the challenge in her voice unmistakable.
He saw no point in telling her she had no need to feel threatened and followed her to the barn.
She grabbed a board, a handful of nails, and a hammer. The long board teetered in her grasp, and he caught it.
“I’ll take this.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Fine.”
He had long ago learned to hide his feelings, to deny them; until now, he hardly even had any feelings he could identify, but Carly did not have the same skill. Her annoyance was as evident as the golden sun in the blue sky. He couldn’t imagine why she was upset.
“Did I do something to offend you?”
Halfway out the door, she stopped and slowly came about to face him. Her brown eyes narrowed as she studied him. He got the feeling she wanted something from him, but he had no idea what it might be, so he stood motionless and waited.
“I hope I’ve made myself clear that I don’t need a man.”
“Seems your father has a differing opinion.”
“My father is a stubborn Scotsman.”
“I believe you’ve said that before. No need to remind me.”
Her shoulders sank, and her expression cleared. “Guess I should apologize for getting upset. It’s just that—” She didn’t finish. “I need to get this shelf made.”
He followed her across the yard. Just what? he wanted to ask. But if she wanted to tell him, she would.Until then, he was content to simply follow her back to the shed.
Jill stepped from the woodshed as they approached. She wore too-big trousers, rolled up at the ankles, and a baggy shirt. A length of rope held her pants in place. She crossed her arms and scowled at Sawyer.
“Where’d you get the clothes?”
