Page 29 of Montana Groom of Convenience
She tossed her head, making her wheat-blonde braid flip back and forth. “You’ll have to be the judge of that. Now, if we aren’t all going to starve to death, I bestgo make supper, though I can’t say how close to starving you’ll feel after you eat my meal.”
He followed her from the barn. Jill shinnied down the ladder and fell in behind them. “Are you warning me again that your cooking might not be real good?” he asked.
“You’ll have to see for yourself.” She laughed, a merry sound that held more than a note of teasing...or was it warning?
“It can’t be worse than my cooking.” He couldn’t keep resignation from his voice.
“Or could it?” She laughed again.
He glanced back at Jill and saw the concern in her face, though she masked it as soon as she realized he looked her way. “We’ll survive, won’t we, Jill?”
She answered with a scowl.
They reached the house, and Carly hurried into the pantry, returned with a basin and gave him instruction to bring potatoes from the root cellar. Jill followed him.
Jill sank to the ground by the entranceway. “I might not like this place.”
He couldn’t say if she meant the root cellar or the Morrison Ranch, but he decided it was the latter. He filled the basin with last year’s potatoes, still firm from good storage. “Doesn’t appear either of them is mean. That’s a good thing.” He considered all he’d observed. “Carly likes to laugh a lot.”
“Her pa is funny.”
“But nice.”
“I guess.”
They returned to the house with the potatoes. He sniffed. Something smelledmighty good, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up. Though, he was mightily tempted to open the oven and see what it held.
Carly took the potatoes and soon had them peeled and boiling. “It will be a few minutes. Why don’t you two bring in your things and get settled?”
He eyed her for a moment. Was she trying to get rid of them? But for what reason? With a start, he realized he’d immediately jumped to thinking of long-term leave-taking. But hadn’t they agreed she needed him, and Jill needed her?
Jill only? A little voice questioned.
He refused to dignify it with an answer.
Carly smiled and nodded, tipped her head toward the door to encourage his cooperation.
There seemed little reason to disagree. “All right.” He and Jill tromped to the barn and he got his saddlebags and the carpetbag that held her few belongings. He’d thought about buying her more clothes but had decided her cousin was better suited for the task.
Which brought to mind her present outfit. He had to try and convince her to dress like a young lady and he faced her. “Jill, I don’t think your ma would want you to dress like a boy.”
Jill stuck out her bottom lip and glowered at him. “Ma’s dead, so she don’t care.”
“Don’t you want to do what would please her?”
“I don’t care anymore. Besides, Carly dresses like a man. And you married her.”
“True.” But she’d worn a dress when he married her.
“Just ’cause she wears pants, you don’t like her?”
Well, put that way, it did seem a little unreasonable. “I guess I don’t care what she wears.” Her mode of dresshad not been part of their agreement. Of course, he’d had no idea at the time.
“Then you can’t care what I wear.”
He sighed deeply and with a great deal of frustration. Were all females so argumentative? So adept at twisting what a fellow said? But rather than be upset at the notion, he realized he felt like smiling. Having someone other than Jill challenge him might be amusing.
They returned to the house. Carly stood at the stove, her back to the room. If he wasn’t mistaken, she grinned rather widely and hummed a little tune.
