She Was Sitting Alone at the Auction, the Cowboy Said, “She’s Coming Home With Me”
Chapter 4
Rose woke before dawn to the bustle of the bunkhouse. A plump, gray-haired woman was pulling a shawl over her dress, and when she noticed Rose’s eyes open, her face broke into a cheerful smile. “Good morning, dear. You must be Miss Hartley. I’m Beulah Crane, cook for this hungry lot.” She gestured to another bed, where a young woman with blonde hair sat up, yawning. “That’s Minnie.”
“Please call me Rose.”
“Well, Rose,” Mrs. Crane said, “breakfast is in thirty minutes in the main house. The men eat in the cookhouse next door, but the Wainwrights and us women take our meals in the kitchen.”
Rose washed and dressed quickly, choosing her best remaining dress — a simple blue cotton with a white collar — and pinning her hair in a neat bun. Minnie, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, fell into step beside her as they crossed the yard.
“Miss Mabel says you’re good with horses,” Minnie said by way of greeting.
“I’ve worked with them most of my life.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m terrified of them myself.” Minnie shuddered dramatically. “Those big teeth, and the heavy hooves. But Mr. Wainwright’s horses are the pride of the county. Everyone says so.”
The kitchen was fragrant with coffee and bacon when they entered. Mabel was already seated beside a weathered, gray-haired man Rose hadn’t met. “Good morning, Rose. This is Silas Quinn, our foreman. Silas, this is Miss Rose Hartley.”
Silas acknowledged her with a respectful nod. “Madam. Welcome to Meadowlark.”
As they began to serve themselves, Elias entered, already dressed for the day in worn denim and a cotton shirt, his hair damp from washing. His eyes met Rose’s briefly. “Sleep well, Miss Hartley?”
“Very well, thank you.” She was startled to feel heat rise to her cheeks under his direct gaze.
“I was just about to tell Rose about the work schedule,” Mabel said, passing the biscuits to her brother. “Silas needs help breaking those new colts that came in last week, and I thought Rose might—”
“Miss Hartley will be helping Mrs. Crane and Minnie with household duties for now,” Elias interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “At least until she’s had time to settle in.”
Rose set down her fork carefully. “Mr. Wainwright, while I appreciate your concern, I’m quite capable of working with horses. It’s what I know best.”
Elias met her gaze steadily. “The colts we’re breaking are half-wild mustangs, Miss Hartley. Even experienced hands have been thrown.”
“Elias,” Mabel said, with a note of exasperation, “Rose deserves the chance to prove her abilities. You can’t keep her penned up in the house out of some misplaced sense of protection.”
The table went silent. Everyone watched the siblings square off like two bulls over a fence line.
Finally, Elias sighed. “We’ll compromise. Miss Hartley can assist with the gentle stock for now — the mares and the riding horses that need exercise. If that goes well, we can discuss the colts.”
Rose nodded, satisfied. “That’s reasonable. Thank you.”
After breakfast, Silas gave her a tour of the stables, introducing her to the various horses in Elias’s extensive stock. Her heart lifted when she spotted Clover in a comfortable stall, contentedly munching fresh hay. “She settled in nicely,” Silas commented, noticing her smile. “The boss made sure she had the best stall we could offer.”
“That was kind of him.”
Silas leaned against the stall door. “Mr. Wainwright doesn’t do things halfway, miss. If he takes something on — a horse, a plot of land, a person — he commits fully.”
Rose considered that as she ran her hands down Clover’s legs, checking for any strain from the journey. “He seems to run a good operation here.”
“Best in the territory,” Silas confirmed proudly. “Started from nothing, he did. Now we supply horses to the army, the stage companies, and private buyers all over Nevada and California. Every nail and board in this place was put here according to his specifications.”
“And his sister?” Rose asked, curious about the dynamic she’d witnessed at breakfast. “Has she always been involved?”
Silas chuckled. “Miss Mabel’s been the boss’s right hand since they came west. Smart as a whip, that one. Manages the books, helps with breeding decisions, keeps the house running smooth. Between the two of them, there’s not much they can’t handle.”
That morning, Rose was assigned to exercise several of the gentle riding horses. She saddled a docile mare named Butternut and led her to the smaller of the two corrals, away from where Elias and the hands were working the wild mustangs. Despite her efforts to focus on her own task, she couldn’t help stealing glances at him.
He moved with a confidence and precision she’d only ever seen in her father. He communicated with the half-wild horses through subtle shifts of his body and quiet, patient commands. A magnificent bay stallion snorted and pranced nervously, and then, gradually, began to respond to his guidance.
“He has a way with them, doesn’t he?”
Rose turned to find Mabel watching her from the fence. “Yes,” she admitted. “My father was good with horses, but Mr. Wainwright seems to speak their language.”
“Our father was a cavalry officer,” Mabel said. “Elias learned horsemanship practically before he could walk.” She nodded toward Butternut. “How are you finding our stock?”
“Well-trained and cared for. Butternut has a particularly sweet nature.”
“She’s one of our most reliable mounts. Perfect for a lady’s pleasure riding.”
Rose swung into the saddle with practiced ease. “I prefer a bit more spirit, actually. Clover has always been spirited without being difficult.”
Mabel’s eyes sparkled. “Is that so? Perhaps tomorrow you might try Storm — the gray gelding in the end stall. He’s well-mannered, but he has more energy than most of our ladies’ mounts.”
“I’d like that very much.”
As Rose guided Butternut around the corral, walking, then trotting, she was acutely aware of Elias’s gaze occasionally falling on her. Once, when she executed a particularly smooth transition from trot to canter, she glanced up to find him watching her with undisguised interest from the adjoining corral.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. After exercising three horses, she helped Silas with grooming and feeding, and in the evening she assisted Mrs. Crane with dinner before joining the household for the meal.
“How did you find your first day at Meadowlark, Miss Hartley?” Elias asked as they sat around the table.
“Fulfilling,” she answered truthfully. “Your horses are magnificent, Mr. Wainwright.”
A hint of pride crossed his features. “Thank you. I understand you handled Butternut, Dandelion, and Oliver today.”
“Yes. Miss Wainwright suggested I might try Storm tomorrow.”
Elias’s eyebrows rose slightly as he glanced at his sister. “Storm requires a firm hand. He can be headstrong.”
“Like someone else I know,” Mabel muttered into her coffee cup.
Rose suppressed a smile. “I’m confident in my abilities, Mr. Wainwright.”
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. But I’d like to be present the first time you ride him, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Rose agreed, secretly pleased at the prospect of demonstrating her skill before him.
That night, Minnie perched on the edge of her own bed, eager to chat. “I saw you riding today. You sit a horse like you were born in the saddle.”
“My mother used to say the same thing,” Rose said with a fond smile as she brushed out her long auburn hair.
“And Mr. Wainwright was watching you,” Minnie added with a knowing grin. “He doesn’t usually pay such close attention to new workers.”
Rose felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m sure he was simply making sure I didn’t mishandle his horses.”
Minnie giggled. “If you say so. But I’ve been here two years, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you today.”
“Minnie,” Mrs. Crane admonished from her bed. “Don’t go putting ideas in Miss Hartley’s head. Mr. Wainwright is our employer, and that’s all there is to it.”
But as Rose slipped beneath her covers and blew out her candle, she couldn’t help remembering the intensity in those storm-gray eyes across the corral — and she couldn’t decide whether what she’d seen in them was judgment, approval, or something far more dangerous. Tomorrow, she thought, she would find out.