The Convict and the Cattleman (12 page)

Bridgit frowned. “I wasn’t aware she had a daughter. Did she say Martha is feeling poorly?”

He shrugged and speared a slice of ham. “One can never tell with Martha. Millicent is a fair cook. Unless Martha finds someone to marry the poor girl, Millicent will end up employed here.”

“Are you angry, Jonah?”

At the sound of his name, he looked up, giving her his full attention. “Angry?”

“Aye. You seem tense.”

A faint smile flitted across his face. “Martha has long tried to persuade me to marry Millicent. I expect this is a ploy to put the girl in my good graces.”

“You don’t fancy her?”

His gaze ran over her. “You’ll understand when you meet her.”

“I’m sure she’s a beautiful person on the inside.” A man with an empire at his fingertips could afford to be picky when it came to his bride, but people without the benefit of good looks deserved the same chances as everyone else.

“That’s not quite what I mean. She’s only slightly better tempered than her mother. God rest her father’s soul. The man was a saint for putting up with Martha for thirty years.”

Taking advantage of the moment, she sat across from him. “I enjoyed your company last night.”

He choked, coughing until he’d cleared his windpipe. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he stared at her. “Not my usual breakfast conversation.”

She wasn’t chastised by his tone, but smiled innocently. “Forgive me.”

He caught her hand. “You’ve no qualms about being my lover?”

Excitement raced through her body. She couldn’t speak. Wetting her lips, she shook her head.

“Every move you make seems earnest, unplanned, but each of them makes me think of the way you writhed beneath me last night. I want to take you upstairs this second and undo each of those buttons.” His free hand lighted on the bottom most one, tracing the outer edge of it. Beneath her dress, her flesh pebbled with anticipation of his touch.

“I have chores,” she whispered, nearly breathless.

He raised her hand and kissed the back of it. “I won’t keep you.”

He’d called her his lover, not a whore or harlot.

She struggled to hold back her excitement. “It’s still Olivia first, mind you. What happens between us can’t interfere with my duties.”

“You are her nurse. What goes on between us won’t interfere with her.”

She smiled, dizzy with the prospect of making love with Jonah again. “Then I have a goat to milk and no time to tarry with my lover.”

* * * *

The nanny goat, a large specimen borrowed from Natty and Bess, wasn’t like any Bridgit had ever seen. Brown and black with large, droopy ears and a spectacular set of horns perched on her head, she bossed around the other animals. Even Rupert’s dog, Old Nell, wouldn’t approach the creature.

This morning Nanny grazed beside one of Jonah’s colts. The nanny came and went as she pleased, slipping through the paddock rails with ease. The horse didn’t appear distressed by its presence, but Bridgit would’ve preferred the goat be anywhere except around the horses. Her knowledge of farm animals went as far as seeing them laid out in the butcher’s shop or sold at auctions. Farjana made catching and milking the creature look easy.

“Come along, Nanny. We’ve got to get you milked and then you’re free to wander about as usual.”

A bleat left its throat and the tail flipped a few times, but it otherwise ignored her. The horse's tail swished in vain at the circling flies.

A week of this nonsense and she was tired of the game. Every step that brought her closer, the goat took four more away. Merry bleating filled the air. Nanny stared at her through odd rectangle pupils and curled its upper lip.

The naughty animal was laughing at her. Flummoxed, Bridgit stared. The goat trotted around the enclosure, stopped near the horse and chewed a leaf.

The horse took notice of the chase. His ears perked up and head bobbed as if he approved of the goat’s escape methods.

Hands on her hips, Bridgit glared at the pair.

“Olivia is hungry. That’s enough of this silliness. I suggest you come here at once before I...” Talking to a goat. All she needed was for one of the jackaroos to hear.

Determined not to be made a fool of by a four-legged animal, she took slow steps, hoping to corner it. Nanny edged closer to the horse. The colt laid his ears back.

“I know, Nanny makes me angry too,” she whispered.

The goat, which likely outweighed her, didn’t compare to the size of the horse. The colt didn’t appear to care for either of them. Or maybe he was taking the nanny’s side.

“I just need to grab her rope and I’ll be on my–” Bridgit shrieked as the horse charged at her.

Her boot caught the hem of her skirt. Arms flailing, she struggled to regain her balance, but landed in a tangle of skirts. Covering her head with her hands, she waited for the angry horse to strike.

Nothing happened. An insect buzzed near her ear, and the goat bleated again. Except for the distant chatter of jackaroos, the air was still.

“What are you about, miss?”

At the voice, she raised her head. One of the jackaroos stood outside the fence, looking baffled. Mortified, she risked a glance at the two animals that caused her folly. Both stood on the far side of the pen, peering at her innocently.

“That wicked goat told the horse to attack me.” The words sounded absurd, but it was too late to call them back.

He climbed through the fence and helped her up. She saw him fighting a smile. How dare he laugh when she might’ve been killed? But the annoyance was more at herself than him. He wouldn’t have reason to laugh if she’d been more careful.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better.”

“I wouldn’t recommend upsettin’ the colt. He’s due to race next week. Jonah’ll be more than a mite angry if somethin’ happens to him.”

“Of course. With no thought about his convict woman.” Even the animals on the station held higher ranks than she.

“I didn’t mean...” He looked sheepish. “I’ll catch her for you. Devilish thing, that nanny.”

Raising her chin, she glared at the goat. “I don’t need help.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, miss, I’d say you do. It won’t take a blink.”

She studied him as he cornered the nanny. Not as tall as Jonah, but built every bit as solid, he moved with ease over the ground. A hint of gray started in his dark blond hair. With face tanned and lined from the sun, he appeared a few years older than her employer.

He snatched the goat’s rope like a dog after a bone. The nanny trotted after him, meek as a lamb. The colt never batted an eye.

A smile lit his face and eyes. Gray eyes, like the haze hanging over the Blue Mountains. “Here she is. I’ve seen you strugglin’ with her before. I’ll catch her anytime you want.”

She took the rope and tugged the goat closer. “Thank you. I’m sorry for being snappish.”

“Anyone would be, given the temperament of that goat. I’ll be glad when Bess leads it home. Right about the time I fall asleep at night, she rubs those horns against the bunkhouse. Causes an awful racket.” He offered his hand. “Phillip Banner, miss.”

She accepted. His hand was callused, rough against her own. The grip was firm, but not too tight. “Bridgit.”

“At your service. Any time, day or night.” He winked and walked away.

No wonder Jonah had warned her away from the bunkhouse. If all the jackaroos were so helpful and handsome, they’d set her heart aflutter. Though if the two stood side by side, she felt certain she’d have eyes for only Jonah.

Nanny bleated and pranced, her heavy udders swaying.

“Rascal of goat.”

By his wink, if she hadn’t known better, she’d guess the goat and the jackaroo planned the whole thing.

11

Millicent’s twin dimples appeared as she smiled. “I’m looking forward to next week. Will you need help with the cooking and setting up again this year?”

Jonah shifted. He hadn’t thought much about the annual party held at Laurie Lark. A tradition started by his parents to celebrate the oncoming summer and their marriage, it involved three days worth of activities. A casual supper on the first night welcomed the guests, horse races were held the second day, a dance after, and a formal supper the third night. Charlotte had planned the event with gusto. The most he’d ever done was set up tables and slaughter a steer. Was a week too late to back out of the party? It didn’t seem like there was much to celebrate this year.

“It’s likely I will. Without Charlotte supervising the kitchen, I need someone who knows what she’s doing.”

Millicent flushed with apparent pleasure. “Your parties are always such fun. My favorite part is the dancing. I’ll save one for you, if you don’t think you’ll be busy overseeing everything.”

Uncomfortable with her less than subtle hints, he struggled for an excuse. Nothing came to mind. “Right. I suppose it depends on how everything goes.”

The flirtatious smile turned serious. “Have you found a nurse for Olivia yet? Mother said the convict you hired can’t be trusted.”

He frowned at her. It shouldn’t surprise him that Martha had poisoned her daughter against Bridgit.

“I haven’t seen any evidence she’s untrustworthy. I’m pleased with her work ethic. Thomas hasn’t sent me any word about a nurse. I may hear something by next week, though.”

Millicent made a sour face as she digested his words. “That’s not what Mother says. I can’t tell a thing has been done. Are you sure she works while you’re out?”

“It isn’t your business, Millicent. Bridgit is a convict, but she’s proven her worth. She deserves the same courtesy as anyone on the station.”

Her stony glare made it hard for him to focus on his breakfast. Her expression changed and she smiled again.

“Niles thinks he’s found a brilliant colt to beat yours this year. I don’t believe him. If ladies could gamble, I’d put my whole savings on you, Jonah.”

Heaven help him. “Your brother has an excellent eye for horseflesh. I wouldn’t count on my winning this year.”

A loud cry upstairs caught his attention. Olivia, demanding breakfast. Relief coursed through him. “Pardon me, Millicent. I’ve–Olivia’s crying. Bridgit’s doing the milking, I should...” He gestured at the ceiling.

“I thought the baby was
her
duty.”

“She is, but as Olivia’s uncle, I can...comfort her.”

Neither Martha nor her daughter approved of Olivia’s presence. He felt certain if Millicent announced she was having a baby outside the bonds of marriage, Martha would toss the girl out. It pained him to remember the things they’d said behind Charlotte’s back. Another reason he’d rather skip the party this year. If he hadn’t shoved it into the back of his mind, he might’ve gotten away with canceling it.

Avoiding Millicent’s eyes, he ducked out of the room.

The staircase seemed a mile long. By the time he reached the landing, he was sweating. For the most part, he left Olivia's care to others. What he knew about children didn’t amount to a pile of horse apples. He considered slipping out the front door to the sanctuary of the barn. Beneath his hand, the smooth banister turned slick.

“You look a bit lost.”

He spun at Bridgit’s voice. She stood at the foot the stairs, a pail of milk at her side. Dirt smudged her face and the front of her dress.

“I was going... She’s crying.”

A warm smile lit Bridgit’s face. “I hear. Such a loud voice for a little one.”

Guilt gripped his insides. He didn’t dare tell her he was avoiding Millicent. “What happened?”

Bridgit’s smile turned rueful. “The goat and I had a to-do. I may have bruises on my knees, but I suspect I’ll live.”

He wanted to see, kiss the spots and any other aches. “Since you’re here, I’ll take my leave. Nothing I can do now.”

“No, go on and quiet her. She’ll be glad for any comfort. I’ll be along with her bottle.”

He’d rather face a rogue bovine than his screaming niece. “The jackaroos are waiting. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be.”