Instant Frontier Family Page 8

  “Oh, Michael always found things for us to do,” Ciara said, helping her lay the dresses out on the quilt. “He read us tales of adventure from books in the ship’s library. We tried to learn to play the piano, until some lady passengers ordered us out of the salon.”

  Maddie hid a smile at that. She could imagine even Michael’s good looks and kind words hadn’t been enough to prevail over children banging on a piano.

  “We helped the sailors pick tar out of the ropes,” Ciara continued, fingers grazing the torn hem at the bottom of a skirt, “and they taught us how to navigate by the stars. We watched for whales and flying fish. I never even knew fish could fly!”

  The glow in her eyes reminded Maddie of the sister she’d left behind, leaving an answering glow inside her. “It sounds like a fine time.”

  “It was.” Ciara sighed. “And then we came here.”

  Guilt tugged at Maddie. She hadn’t meant to make her sister’s life more difficult. Perhaps she should ask Michael for suggestions on how to entertain the children now. But no, she’d told him Ciara and Aiden were hers to care for. Asking his advice was admitting she was out of her depth.

  Which she very much feared she was.

  “I’ve a book from Mrs. Howard’s lending library,” Maddie offered Ciara. “You can read that for a time.”

  Ciara cocked her head. “What’s it about?”

  “A family of sisters in England,” Maddie said, remembering. “And the mother is keen to marry one of them off to a cousin, but the eldest will have none of it. And there’s a handsome rich fellow who treats her poorly, but I think he has eyes for her and is just fighting his feelings.”

  Ciara’s eyes widened. “It sounds wonderful!”

  “Top shelf of the sideboard,” Maddie said. “Don’t lose my place.”

  “I won’t,” Ciara promised, dashing out of her room.

  Maddie smiled. At least she and Ciara shared a love of books. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see Aiden enthralled over a romantic novel. Chores might have to suffice. Perhaps she could involve both of them in her baking. She didn’t want them close to the harsh soap and hot water of the laundry.

  She quickly counted the dresses and noted their ragged condition, then went to Aiden’s room to check his clothes. She found her brother under his bed pretending to be a mountain lion in a cave.

  “And Amelia Batterby is my kitten,” he announced, one arm around the gray-haired cat.

  Amelia Batterby’s golden eyes glared at Maddie as if her imprisonment was all Maddie’s fault.

  Maddie was simply glad that her brother’s short pants and shirts would do. Ciara’s hems, on the other hand, were rising with her height. Maddie resolved to take the clothing to her friend Nora Underhill, another of Mercer’s Belles, who was a talented seamstress.

  But thinking of the clothes reminded her that she should check to see how Michael was doing with the laundry.

  She opened the door to the yard in time to see rain sheeting down, her chickens rushing to the shelter of the coop. Michael was snatching the clothes from the line. Maddie ran to help.

  “Take these,” he said, handing her the damp flannel. “I’ll get the bundles before they’re soaked.”

  Hugging the material to her, Maddie ran for the door.

  Michael was right behind. He dropped his armful of dirty clothes on the kitchen floor. Blowing out a breath, he shook raindrops off his dark hair.

  “Thanks,” he said. “You got there just in the nick of time.”

  “I was busy with Ciara and Aiden,” Maddie explained, “or I would have come sooner.” She piled the flannels on a clean spot on the worktable and went for the rope she used when drying clothes indoors. “Here,” she said, handing him a looped end. “Hook that over the nail by the window.”

  As he went to do as she bid, she looped her own end over a nail by the larder, stretching the line from one side of the room to the other. Michael ducked under it to retrieve a flannel and set about draping the wet material over the line. Maddie started from her end with another of the clammy shirts.

  “That’s very likely all the laundry that can be done today,” she told him, fingers working. “As I’ve no need for other help, you can go look for a job if you like.”

  “Good.” He finished the last flannel and bumped her shoulder as they met in the middle of the line. He was solid enough that the movement set her to wavering on her feet. His hand shot out to steady her.

  “If you’re sure you don’t need me,” he murmured, gaze on hers.

  She must have put too much wood in the firebox, for it was suddenly entirely too warm in the kitchen. His look was warmer as he studied her face. What was he looking for? What did he see?

  Why did she care?

  Maddie stepped back. “I’m certain I’ve no need for you, Mr. Haggerty. Off with you, now.”

  He looked almost disappointed, but nodded before turning and heading out the door. Some of the warmth went with him.

  Maddie sagged against the table. What was she thinking? She was more than twice Ciara’s age, and she’d never been one for fawning infatuation. She had work to do, debts to pay, dreams to realize. No more mooning over Michael Haggerty!

  She had three-quarters of an hour before the dough would be ready to bake. Time enough to visit Nora. She collected Ciara and Aiden, and hurried down the hill.

  Her friend was happy to lengthen some of Ciara’s gowns and remake one of Maddie’s for the girl.

  “And, someday I hope to make your wedding gown,” she told Maddie as she accepted the clothing.

  Of all people, Maddie would not have expected Nora to harp on that note. Though she was a plain woman with rosy cheeks, coarse black hair and wise gray eyes, Nora had received no less than six proposals of marriage since arriving in Seattle and had turned them all down.

  “Perhaps you should be making a wedding dress for yourself instead,” Maddie said, eying the bolt of creamy silk propped up against the rough wood wall. Nora’s skill with a needle had made her popular with the ladies as well as the gentlemen. She’d been content to serve her customers from the back of one of the mercantiles, which profited from the sale of its fabric and notions.

  While Aiden poked around the shop, Ciara leaned on a pile of fabric. “Maddie might need a wedding gown soon. She’s going to marry Michael Haggerty.”

  Nora raised her brows as she took her measuring tape from the pocket of her neat gray gown. Maddie hurried to stop any rumors from flying. “Mr. Haggerty was kind enough to escort Ciara and Aiden out to me,” she explained to her friend. “We will not be marrying.”

  Ciara made a face as she straightened. “You better watch out. You’ll end up an old maid.”

  “And who would be caring?” Maddie told her.

  Nora nodded, then bent to run her tape up Ciara’s frame. “Who indeed? Nothing says you must marry the first man who asks. Or the first six.” She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled.

  The sound buoyed Maddie as well. “No indeed, me darling girl,” she assured her friend. “As well as your work is going, you needn’t marry at all if you like.”

  Ciara looked appalled. “You’d be all alone.”

  Living alone didn’t sound so bad to Maddie, some days. No siblings to worry about. No strapping handsome lad standing in the doorway as if waiting to steal a kiss. Just her and her baking.

  What a hollow existence, all work.

  She shook off the inner warning. “You’re never alone so long as you have friends beside you,” Maddie told Ciara with a brisk nod.

  “And the Lord,” Nora agreed, straightening. “I’ll have one of the dresses ready by tomorrow. You can pick it up after services. And if you leave your jacket, Ciara, I’ll add red cording to it. That color will bring out the roses in your cheeks.”

 
Ciara stammered her thanks, and Maddie added her own. Yet as they all walked back to the bakery, Maddie couldn’t help thinking about what her friend had said. How odd to consider the Lord as close as a friend, a source of comfort and companionship. Her father and the ministers at the churches they had attended had always acted as if God was someone majestic and magnificent, seated high on a throne and busy directing kings and governments, seasons and oceans. What made Nora think He even cared about someone as insignificant in the grand scheme of things as herself and Maddie?

  Ciara obviously had other matters on her mind.

  “I still think you should marry Michael,” she declared as they reached the bakery. “It would be terrible to be the last one of Mercer’s Belles to be a bride.”

  “Why?” Aiden asked, following her through the door. “Is it a race?”

  “No,” Maddie said. “And there are opportunities here an unmarried lady never had in New York.”

  Ciara gave her an arched look. “There’s an opportunity right here, if you’d just open your eyes.” She started up the stairs.

  Aiden hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want to marry Michael?” he asked, face turned up to hers.

  “Certain sure,” Maddie promised him, but even she could hear the doubt in her voice.

  * * *

  Later in the afternoon, Michael trudged back up the hill from Yesler’s Mill. The job Deputy McCormick had mentioned earlier had already been filled by another fellow who had come on the boat with Michael. The foreman had promised to let Michael know if anything else opened up.

  He’d tried at the harbor as well but had found things in disarray. Seattle had only one pier, owned by Mr. Yesler, and no paid group of longshoremen for offloading. The crews from the ships generally did much of the work, along with two or three men with wagons. Occasional help from shore was solicited for pennies a task. He couldn’t live on pennies, much less pay Maddie back what he owed her. He’d have to look elsewhere.

  “You’re welcome to join my crew,” one of the mates had told him as the fellow stacked crates on the pier. “Every time we reach Seattle, we lose a half dozen or more seeking land of their own.”

  He might have accepted the offer if it had been made in New York shortly after Katie’s cruelty. Escape had been welcome then. Now he wanted to remain in Seattle long enough to make sure Ciara and Aiden were settled.

  A shame he couldn’t just stake his claim on a strip of land. He simply couldn’t see that as a good idea. He was city born and bred—what did he know about farming or logging? He’d likely starve the first winter!

  Yet he couldn’t help wondering why he’d landed in Seattle. He’d thought it the Lord’s providence when the ticket had arrived just as the Dead Rabbits were planning to make good on their threats. He’d refused their invitation to help them. That made him the enemy in their books. And no enemy of the gang lived for long.

  If it had been only himself at risk, he might have fought through. But he thought of Sylvie as his mother, her children as his little brothers and sisters. How could he take the chance that the gang might lash out at him and strike them instead?

  So, here I am Lord. Just what is it You want me to do now?

  He sensed no answer. Funny—Seattle was claimed by some to be the end of the earth, but he still expected God to be present.

  He was nearly to Maddie’s bakery when he saw the crowd. She must not have opened yet for the afternoon, for men waited six deep by the front door, scrambling over each other to be first inside. He detoured around the back.

  The rain had stopped for the moment, so he wasn’t surprised to find Ciara and Aiden outside in the rear yard. What did surprise him was their behavior. They were scurrying about, chasing the chickens, and he was certain Maddie would have heard the cackling cries if she hadn’t been so busy preparing to be besieged by her customers.

  Michael caught Aiden as he dashed past. “Easy, now. What’s this about?”

  Ciara stopped in front of him. Her face was red from her exertions, and some of her hair had come undone and hung in steamers down her cheeks. “Maddie’s busy in the bakery, so it’s up to us to figure out how to have fun around here.”

  “It was my idea,” Aiden declared, wiggling in Michael’s grip.

  Michael released him. “Your idea to do what?”

  Aiden’s eyes shone. “Hold chicken races.”

  Michael frowned. “Chicken races?”

  From inside came a clang and a cry. Had they broken down the door and overwhelmed Maddie? Backing away from the boy, Michael shook his head. “Bad idea. Stay here. We’ll figure out something better when I’m done inside.” Turning, he ran for the kitchen.

  He found Maddie down on her knees, picking up cookies from the floor. He could hear the voices rising in demand from beyond the shop.

  “What happened?” he asked, crossing to help her.

  “I turned too fast taking them out of the oven and tangled with a flannel,” she said, face flushed and fingers flying. “Blow the dust off them now. Maybe my customers won’t notice.”

  He thought her customers would be too busy looking at her to notice any dirt on the cookies. But she was evidently concerned, for she cupped a set of the ginger morsels in her hand and blew, pink lips pursed as if for a kiss. Michael found himself leaning closer, then jerked upright.

  Cookies. He was supposed to be rescuing cookies.

  A few minutes later, they had all the gingersnaps lined up with the loaves of bread on the counter. Taking her place behind the display, Maddie nodded to Michael to open the door. He let in the ravenous hordes.

  It was a repeat of the morning’s performance, every fellow shoving coins at her for a cookie or a loaf of bread, so long as the sweets came with a smile from Maddie. Even Mr. Horton battled his way to the counter for the cookies Maddie had promised him yesterday. Within a half hour, nothing was left but crumbs.

  Maddie counted the silver. “Enough to buy more ingredients.”

  Michael stared at her. “Surely at those prices you made a profit.”

  She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling as if using it as a slate to calculate the right amount. “Two dollars and fifty cents, give or take.”

  Michael shook his head. “That can’t be right.”

  She lowered her gaze to meet his. “I wouldn’t be judging where I have no knowledge, Mr. Haggerty. Flour and sugar come at a premium here on the frontier. Every ingredient is hard-won. But if I make two dollars of profit a day, six days a week, that will be enough to support my family and begin to pay Clay Howard what I owe.” She clutched the money close and headed for the kitchen. A moment later, he heard the clanking as she must have dropped the coins into her canister.

  Michael shook his head again. Maddie O’Rourke had a grand vision—a successful bakery, a family for her siblings. But he didn’t see how she could sustain this relentless pace and still give Ciara and Aiden the time and attention they needed. They were all heading for heartache, unless he could find a way to stop it. And that would mean breaking his promise to Maddie and interfering.

  Chapter Eight

  Ah, Sunday! Maddie heaved a deep sigh as she woke the next day. Sunday was the one day she didn’t have to bake in the morning or do laundry. It was the one day she had all to herself.

  Well, not to herself anymore. Now she had Ciara and Aiden to think about as well. And Michael.

  He was asleep on his pallet as she came out of her room dressed for the day. She woke so early the other days of the week, it was difficult to sleep past dawn on Sunday, so light was just glimmering through the curtains. He seemed to be an early riser as well, for he stirred at the squeak of a board under her boots. His dark hair was plastered to one side of his face, and stubble peppered his chin.

  “Good morning to you,” she murmured as he looked her way. �
��I’ll be making tea and frying eggs. Would you like some?”

  Those blue eyes blinked as they focused on her face, and she felt warm despite the cool morning air.

  “Thanks,” he murmured before gathering himself to rise.

  She’d gone downstairs before him the other morning, so she hadn’t realized he was sleeping in his clothes. Now his rumpled shirt and trousers reminded her of the flannels hanging on the line downstairs. Perhaps she would have to do a little laundry today, at least to fold what was dry.

  As he rolled up his blanket, she busied herself with taking down the teakettle from the top shelf above the sideboard. “We’ll start no loads of laundry today,” she told him. She reached for the cast-iron fry pan as well, only to realize it wasn’t hanging from its usual hook. Glancing around, she spied the handle sticking out of a lower shelf.

  “Good,” he said, straightening. “I know it’s only been one day, but I won’t miss it. I don’t know how you do it, Maddie. That’s backbreaking work.” As if to prove it, he pressed a hand to his lower back.

  She set the fry pan on top of the potbellied stove and frowned as the iron wobbled. Lifting the pan, she saw that the bottom was dented and scraped.

  “Something wrong?” Michael asked as if he’d noticed her look.

  She set the pan down again and watched it rock back and forth on its uneven bottom. “Something happened to my pan.”

  “Let me see what I can do,” Michael said, reaching for it. His arm came around her like an embrace, making her all too aware of his strong body behind her. Maddie stepped carefully away from him.

  “And stoke up the fire, if you’ve a mind,” she said. “I’ll go gather the eggs.” She snatched up her basket and fled.

  She didn’t catch her breath until she had reached the kitchen. She’d flirted with half the unmarried men in Seattle and never felt so flustered. Why was Michael any different? Certainly he had hair that begged to be stroked back from his face, shoulders a girl could lean on. And that smile!

  Enough of that now! She was a businesswoman, with plans for her future that did not include a partnership of any kind. She squared her shoulders and marched herself out into the rear yard.